Graduation

I've had an odd relationship with the Year Two kids. I came in more than halfway through their time at Bina Hill, so it seemed harder to get to know them, and they me. It took longer to learn their names, longer to get most of them to talk to me, and even then only a handful seemed to ever really get comfortable around me. One or two never even got to more than "yes, Miss" or "no, Miss" until the last month before they graduated.

Nevertheless, I was excessively proud as thirty-four of them graduated on the 19th of July. It was the largest class yet to graduate, and they'd worked so hard for it. The biggest issue I've had holding my tongue has been when other adults-- highly respected people-- come in to give "motivational" speeches, and instead denigrate the students: telling them that they have failed, they need to work harder, that they are stupid. I've walked out on more than one of these. These kids have worked hard. In two years here, they've planted hundreds of fruit trees that they won't get to see produce. They've planted and replanted the gardens every time the weather or the cattle destroyed things due to inadequate fencing. They've fundraised at every opportunity even though the funds go "missing." They've kept the grounds beautiful; raking every morning, cleaning up the garbage the donkeys knock over every night, even whitewashing rocks and trees (which was just bizarre to me). They've learned wood sculpting and weaving, and are told the value of those things, but never their own value. Some of them worked harder in classes than most students back in the U.S. It's true that some did not, and it's also true that some still fell through the cracks in the system, but I did not meet one single "stupid" kid there. I wish the teachers or the Minister of Indigenous Peoples' Affairs or any of the other speakers could have told them that.

Okay, rant aside, graduation did not go smoothly. The caps and gowns were ordered late, and then the administration mishandled the funds for decorations. The students made do with what they had, and frantically decorated at the last minute. There were no caps, and a good number of the graduates didn't have gowns either. Almost every high-profile invitee backed out at the last minute, so those who were supposed to speak or hand out awards had to be replaced by whoever happened to be on-hand at the time. Now you know why it was a Peace Corps Volunteer handing out the diplomas. The students were subjected to a congratulatory speech by one of the few officials who DID show up, but it was a speech that never once said "congratulations" and instead focused mainly on how the students were to blame for their bus being wrecked (not the case. If you look at my previous entry, you'll see they had nothing to do with it.) and how they hoped the future students wouldn't waste their time here like these ones supposedly had. Oops, I said I was done ranting. Sorry, it just slipped out.

Even so, they graduated with smiles, and are off on their various adventures now. Hopefully some of them will keep in touch and let us know how they are doing. Congratulations!

The most expensive lawn ornament

As part of an initiative to help students continue their education after primary school in hinterland areas, the government donated several buses to areas surrounding secondary schools. The secondary school near us received one, as did our Institute. Frustratingly, we couldn't actually use it until the official hand-off by the President of Guyana, a visit which was delayed so many times we all began to doubt it would ever happen. For months, the bus sat gleaming, untouched by the red road dirt that covers everything else in the Rupununi. It sat there so long we all nearly forgot about it. The only ones getting any use out of it were the cats, which had kittens in the shade under it.

Finally the President actually came. The practice sessions for the students' welcome for him had interrupted classes repeatedly before every rumored visit, but they finally came in handy. He was feted in true Amerindian style, and gave the most up-beat speech I've ever heard from a politician or official here. Instead of champagne, he christened the bus with coconut water, and finally we had a usable bus.

We used it twice. Both times to take students and spectators to watch football matches. Then, just the day after the finals (the one Paiwomak lost in St. Ignatius), a teacher at the Institute fell asleep at the wheel and crashed the bus into a swamp. It took less than a minute, but the bus is a crumpled mess. The front and side are smashed, and since it tipped completely sideways, water flooded in through windows and made sure the interior wasn't left unscathed either. With the extent of the damage and the fact that seatbelts are almost never worn in Guyana, it's amazing no one was killed. In fact, no one was even injured worse than a few bruises, to everyone's great relief.

The bus, however, is once again, relegated to the status of lawn ornament, although no longer gleaming and hopeful.The estimated damage is half a million GYD.

Paiwomak Warriors

I brought a nice fancy camera with me to Guyana, and I have always loved watching football (soccer, for those of you who are silly enough to watch that other "football" nonsense). Those may seem unrelated, but it isn't. It turns out Region Nine has a few very talented teams, and I started tagging along with the one nearest me, the Paiwomak Warriors, when they saw some of the photos I'd taken of games. I was happy enough to become a sort of unofficial photographer for them towards the end of the season, which worked out great for me because it meant I always got to go play spectator. The Paiwomak Warriors included two coworkers, my host dad, and two of my students, so I would have been cheering for them anyways. They made it as far as the finals, where they finally lost their first game of the whole season, after three of their players were carried off the field on stretchers within the first twenty minutes of play. Despite that, they seemed in good spirits at the after party, and all along the trip home all along the flooded road. Watching wobbly and injured players straggling through mud and knee deep water while tossing good-natured ribbing back and forth was even more amusing than the game had been. Here are a few of their photos from two of the games this past season, and let's hope they do even better this season. Wish them luck!

My students are John (front row, second from left) and Norieson (second row, fifth from left)

My host dad, Zico, one of the toughest defenders you'll see

Norieson

John

I'm ALLLLIIIIIIIIIIVVVVVEEE

Alright, so I've been pulled from my site (temporarily) due to some safety/security issues (don't worry, Mom; I'm fine) so I'm back on the coast with AC and internet until further notice. Be prepared: you are about to be inundated with all of the posts I've been unable to do, because as a Region Nine volunteer, I am determined to enjoy every moment of this internet until the lack of sleep literally kills me.
So let the flood begin!
Speaking of floods, that's also happening out in Region Nine. The whole savanna has become a swamp. The road out of my site is a mess. Either the road is completely under water, or the "dry" portions are so muddy and torn up, you can't get through. I've got a few pictures taken by a Peace Corps staff member, Flavio, but have none of my own. Why, you ask? Because the last few times I went, the buses couldn't even get through.

One of the "dry" sections

Yes, this is still the "road"

Most of that is water

At one point, the bus got stuck and nearly went over sideways, so we all clambered out like rats abandoning a sinking ship, and tried to push the bus out. I was knee deep in mud, hip deep in water, just hoping the bus wouldn't fall over on me. The next time, the bus didn't even attempt to cross: all the passengers just got out and waded through the worst of the flood until a bus on the other side could come get us. I know I should have taken pictures, but... I kind of had my hands full. Next time, maybe. If the photos aren't enough, here's a news link: http://demerarawaves.com/2017/07/02/rupununi-flood-hit-residents-to-be-evacuated-thousands-others-affected/

But no, the flooding wasn't enough to take the volunteers out of the region. We were left wherever we happened to be when the worst of the flooding happened, which generally was either in our sites or Lethem. Things have kind of eased up a bit, although the road is still a disaster. I was lucky enough that when I checked in at the airport for my flight to the coast, they asked if I'd like to take the earlier flight. Of course I said yes, and then it turned out I was THE ONLY PASSENGER ON THAT FLIGHT. I literally had the plane to myself. I am rocking this flying thing. Maybe I should go to flight school while I'm here...

At any rate, let me take this (rare) opportunity to post a million pictures, and show you what my house looks like. First of all, it's amazing. It may be only one room, but I love it. It turns out I don't really need much more than a bedroom/kitchen, porch, shower, and bathroom. For one person, it's the perfect size. Especially with how dirty everything gets here, if I had much more space, I'd never have time to do anything but clean. Every single night there is some sort of insect apocalypse, and I wake up to a house that looks like it has not been swept, or even inhabited, in a hundred years.
Let's start the tour!

My front door, featuring Archimedes

Bedroom, kitchen, livingroom

Dresser and bed (with two nets, because I'm not messing around)

Running water! And a water filter

My chronically messy desk

The shower, which is outside just off the porch

Back porch, hammock, and laundry

Posts coming in the next few days: Bina Hill graduation, the BHI first year students, the garden project in Kumu, the President's visit, the bus crash, my host family, the Paiwomak Warriors football team, and of course all the stunning Region Nine Volunteers without whom I would surely already have died. Stay tuned!

The fan was a lie

I can only get internet access in Lethem, which is generally only a once-a-month trip. I get a few hours in town (Peace Corps does not spring for an overnight trip, even though the drive there is usually about six hours round-trip, barring any problems). In these few hours, I have to hit the bank, do all my shopping for the month, visit any other volunteers that are there at the same time, and use what wifi I can find, usually at a little bar. Bad luck has struck ever since the Country Director's visit. Since then, the wifi town-wide has been out every time I go to Lethem. The two times I had to go to Georgetown, it's been down in the hotel there too. No internet. Since Easter. For those of you at home right now, surfing for memes while you watch Netflix, download some more music, and read this at the same time, just imagine that. No internet. At all.

So, what's been happening since then? The Rodeo was a mixed bag. About nineteen volunteers total came up to the region to see it, so we had more company than we're used to having. ALL of the Region Nine volunteers were there, which is a rare occurrence. Usually we miss each other by a matter of days, so only two or three of us will be in town at any point. There was lots to see, with bucking broncos and bull riding, and barrel racing, and every other event a rodeo should have. The downside was that there was a stabbing, where some guy ran up to one of the female riders after the barrel race and stabbed her in front of the entire crowd. She was taken to the hospital, along with another cowgirl who had taken a nasty spill off a horse and not gotten back up, and a few cowboys who were stepped on, kicked, or slightly gored. I'd love to tell you how they're all doing, but since I don't know them, I have no way of knowing. At least one horse was killed, too, which was the worst of it for me. One of the bucking bronco was lassoed after he threw his rider, but he reared and fell hard, breaking one of his forelegs so badly that it just dangled. He had to be shot. I, being right up against the fence, had a front-row view, and burst into tears.

In good news, a visiting research assistant who had been studying frogs at Kaieteur Falls for the last month, came and couch-surfed with me for a few days, and we took some of the students out searching for frogs. The students had a great time catching frogs and toads. I'm counting this as a win, because most people here are afraid of frogs, and I had them not only touching them, but catching them. Several students even turned out to be particularly adept amphibian-catchers.

Another day, my host-sister Ryiela, showed up in my house after lunch with a big rice sack. She handed it to me, but when I went to open it, said "you should probably hold onto it, or it will escape." Inside was a mid-sized iguana! I had some issue getting it out of the sack, but I had great fun showing it around. The students were convinced that iguanas are dangerous, because they'll whip you with their tails, or bite off your fingers. Despite some minor scratches from his tree-climbing claws, this iguana was remarkably well behaved, and even submitted to tentative petting by some of the braver students.

Even better, another Giant Anteater made an appearance. I was in the shower, of course, because I have excellent timing. A few students came by to tell me they'd seen one, so I jumped out, dressed as quickly as possible, and we ran out into the savanna after it. Marlos, one of the first-year students, took off running faster than the rest of us, and actually chased it closer so I could get some really good photos.

Lethem

So much to catch up on!
My host family's mare had a baby, so there is the cutest little filly running around the savanna right now. I don't know if you're aware how adorable baby horses are, but it's right up there with puppies, kittens, and baby bunnies. I do not have a picture, because they've wandered way out somewhere again, and only come by the house when I don't have my camera on me. I've been insisting that the horses need names, so although I suspect my host parents are rolling their eyes at me, my host dad has indulged me by naming her "First Lady" since she's the first female born there. Okay, not terribly imaginative, but definitely apt.
Finals week has come and gone at the Institute where I work. All the first year students passed both of the classes I'm assisting with, which is great. The second year students struggled a little, but still got through it. Easter break has started, and most of the students are headed home to fly some kites.
KITE FLYING IS A THING AT EASTER! America, jump on this bandwagon. Kite flying is awesome, and people do not do it often enough back home. Of course, the downside is there's no dyed eggs or chocolate bunnies or peeps, or (my personal favorite) chocolate Reeses eggs. But still, kites!
I've been summoned to Lethem to meet the new Peace Corps Country Director. The upside is that all the Region Nine kids get to hang out together for a day or so, and get a bit of Wi-Fi and AC. The downside is I'm caked in red dust and have to sit through a meeting. Lethem is made entirely of red dust. It covers every inch of you, outside and in. I'm pretty sure I have a hard-core case of Red Dust Lung which will kill me faster than any of the mosquito-born illnesses. After a day walking around, it looks like you've painted your feet, and you leave tracks everywhere. It gets in your hair so much that when the wind blows, the dust stiffens it, and you get this fantastic Einstein style going on (I look hot, I know). My shower looks like a murder scene.
I've got a lot of traveling for meetings this month. I'm here to meet the CD, then off to Georgetown as part of the Volunteer Advisory Committee, then shepherding students to an agriculture meeting/training/I'm not sure what, and then there's Rodeo!
The Rupununi has a rodeo every year, and it's huge, and apparently awesome. Peace Corps staff has been reminding me I'm not allowed to ride in it, but since falling off a bucking horse isn't really my thing anyways, that's not much of a damper. I am a bit ridiculously excited for this. I've been looking forward to it for months. It will be a bit nerve-wracking, just because there will be so many people around, and I stick out in any crowd here, but be prepared for a full update on that in a few weeks. If horses aren't your thing, maybe skip out on April's posts, because Rodeo will be the most exciting thing this whole month, and I will probably be gushing about it for ages.
My last visit to Lethem was a trip (pun fully intended, so feel free to groan). Getting to Lethem is a hassle at best. Usually I call one of four drivers from surrounding villages to see if any of them are planning to come down and able to pick up another passenger. If I'm lucky, the answer is yes and someone comes by to pick me up at some point between five AM and eight AM, depending on when they wake up, how well their vehicle is running, how easily distracted they are, and what the roads are like. This time, none of them were sure if they were going. I got a call from one at five AM THAT MORNING saying yes, they'd come get me. At seven-thirty, when they were still a no-show, I found out they'd decided not to go, but asked another driver to come get me. The other driver decided he wasn't going either. So I got a ride out to the road where the Georgetown buses go, to see if I could catch one of them. Both blew right past, all full. I caught another ride further down, and finally managed to squeeze in on a bus. (Big thanks to the two people who gave me rides to try to catch the buses.) This is what it's like to live in Region Nine. You have to kind of roll with the punches, and sometimes accept help from strangers with the hope you don't get murdered in the process. I suppose that's true most places.
Anyways, when I got to Lethem, Essie (the PC Response Volunteer, who did her Peace Corps service in Malawi) and Gabrielle had done a whole birthday thing for me (the oldest PCV in my cohort) and Thomas (the youngest) whose birthday was a few days before mine. They made guacamole that I could have eaten by the shovel-full if it was socially acceptable, and a bunch of other delicious food, and a GIGANTIC chocolate cake. I cannot even describe to you how amazing that cake was. I still dream about it.
Also excellent: I was given a fan! I'm living a life of luxury, you guys.

Green beer, snakes, and birthdays

It's weird to say it, but this is the last you'll hear from me in my twenties. I turn thirty on Tuesday. The youngest member of our cohort turned twenty-three yesterday, so this weekend we've run off to Lethem to celebrate, so of  course, I'm starting the party by... writing on my blog. Oh god I feel old.

In other news, following Reconnect, the place I work canceled classes for two more weeks. No classes while I was away for training, then no classes because there was a one-day holiday (so they celebrated all week) called Mashramani ("to celebrate hard work" I'm told), and then another week to "clean up the gardens." I've started stealing back students. The next week, they wanted to pull all the boys for a meeting. I told the head-honcho-in-charge-of-whatever that he couldn't have them until the break, and then herded all the students back to class. The next day, the principal took them for an extra singing practice. I went down and took them back. Then, during a test, someone came to have them mill about in the background of a documentary. I insisted they wait until the students were finished. Yesterday, I think my class was the only one that actually ran. Now, the administration is complaining that the students haven't learned enough to have their end-of-term exams, and they can't understand why. Go figure. 

I had my first up-close-and-personal interaction with a snake! All the power was out in the compound for about a week, and I came home one night with my comically dim flashlight, opened my back door to go out to the bathroom, and a foot-long snake fell, inches from my face, to land at my feet. I had just enough time to think "Oh crap, a snake! Please go away" before it slithered into my house, under my bookcase. Now, back home, I could just catch it and put it back outside where it belongs. (Don't get me wrong, I like snakes, I just like them better when they're not in my house.) Here, that would be a bad idea. I couldn't see the colors on it well enough to identify it, but I'm assured it was almost definitely a rattlesnake. On the slim chance it wasn't, I'm told it would have been a "house labaria" which I've never heard of, and can't find in any ID book, but don't worry, because it's even more venomous than a rattlesnake. Oh goody. Lucky for me, I can't find it under my bookcase anymore. Maybe it left? If not, then the reason you won't hear from me again in my twenties won't be because I turned thirty, it'll be because a tiny snake has been hiding in my house for days, waiting for the most ironic moment.

People who are away from home for a long time start to crave the strangest things. Lately, for me, it's been hula hoops. I CANNOT FIND HULA HOOPS ANYWHERE. You don't even understand what a distressing thing that is. You never appreciate things until they're not around anymore, so, for me, go find a hula hoop and appreciate how fortunate you are.

Steven, the closest PCV to me, has gone back to the States for a visit. He'll be away from Region Nine for a month. I feel a bit like someone just lopped off my arm and said "don't worry, I'll bring it back in a month." Maybe I'm overreacting a little, but there are a lot of days where I'm pretty sure that he's a real Peace Corps Volunteer, and he's just nicely helping me pretend to be one too. Also, my candy stash is dwindling, so maybe it's just a crisis of confidence based on a lack of sleep and sugar-withdrawal. 

One fun idea to liven up your day: Try explaining St. Patrick's Day celebrations to someone who has never heard of it. Holy crap are we super weird with our holidays. 

On that note, it's party time. Wish me luck!