One Year Older

Somewhere between an orange and maroon colored fall and a tropical blue summertime, my life has done another revolution. But it didn’t end up at the same place. It is as if the revolution grew in size, bulging with new tastes and sounds. Pushing at the limits, pockets padded with faces and secret spaces that I alone now have. And I see, without a doubt that this is a sacred life.

This new world that I am in, it keeps showing me how downright blessed I am to just take another unlabored breath.

Because around me.

I have seen death and despair.

My friends have been raped and my heart has been broken here.

There have been days when I fought to stay right in this world of vulnerability where my only option is to have the most profound faith that we. All ahh we can absolutely be doing much better. That soon others will open their eyes and see that the only thing we need more of in the world. Is. Love. Unconditional love.

And as the world opens its eyes there will be a great uprising of peace and friendship. We will be raised up; embracing the soul within; those beautiful creatures that our destiny lies within.

So as I sit here about to start a new day. I can only look up to a God that has once again given me the opportunity to start a new revolution of the mind and I can only pray that it continues to grow in size. That all that I live in the coming year strengthens my conviction that humanity can come together and turn it around. And in unity we will build something beautiful.

My most sincere gratitude goes to the people who have made this year so grand most especially…

Those who visited, those who befriended me, those who wrote, those who read, those who brought change, those who contributed financially, those who schooled me, those who loved me, those who hosted me, those who held me, those who listened, those who counseled, those who explored the world with me, those who sent care packages, those who donated books and school supplies, those who fed me, those who encouraged me, those who were brave in moments of fear, those who called, those who laughed and those who danced.

I am so truly grateful for the many angels of mercy that have restored my faith and brought with your presence the hope of a new day.

Life without internet.

It turns out is just life without internet.

Try it. Turn off your internet for a month and all of the sudden your life will slow down. You will start to notice catepillars climbing the pink flowers on the tree across the street. The hum of music purchased from a local disk jockey will float through the air as you take a deep breath and realize that life had been getting awfully loud.

Well, maybe your story would be different. But that is what happened when the internet shut down in Layou. I read an article about how new research indicates that the sudden disconnection from technology can cause a severe depression among individuals in their 20's (not a direct fact but that was the jist of the article) and I believe it. The idea of not being able to call my friends via Google Chat, skype with my dog or see whether or not the world had exploded while I was sitting on one of the smallest islands in the world was unapproachable. In fact, for the first few weeks, I tried to ignore it. I "stole" internet from the church across the street, shamelessly caught up during lunch at the school tech lab and spent entirely too much of my volunteer allowance on trips to town for late evening computer time in the Peace Corps office. Eventually, I had to admit it to myself, the internet was off and it did not have good prospects for being turned on anytime soon.

Four months later, as the internet light blinked to on, I found myself resistant. I had been enjoying the easy going sway that my life had as it swaggered towards the inevitable future. There is something so peaceful in not knowing. And as I sit here, coming to the end of my first year on Smithers Island, I realize that this is how I feel about the whole Peace Corps experience. There are so many days that I wish I could turn it off, go back to my life before when I didn't have the intimate knowledge of the things that this experience has taught me about. Knowledge is power, right? But sometimes it feels like understanding all of this new knowledge is impossible. Making sense of how the world has come to the place that it is right now can be overwhelming. Like the internet, life's little mysteries are now before me, begging to be explored, experienced and embraced.

I think this year, I won't seek to be understood but rather to understand; not to change others but to focus on changing myself. Yes, I think this year, I won't try to explain how this experience is hard even though I have the internet (and water and electricity), I will just share. I am so utterly grateful that I have the chance to live another year in this new world; this tiny little island that I now call home. And that I have such wonderful friends to share it with.

I BELIEVE IN LOVE LETTERS

And not just those that are written to me!

In April, I wrote about a run in that I had with a man in my town. It was a bit crazy for a gyal (girl) who has lived most of her life without anyone ever putting their hands on her or calling her mean names. Some would say I was lucky. I might add that I had been ignorant of the experience of violence. Regardless, I came to the conclusion that the only option for me was to write Mr. Morris a letter that explained that I cared about him and had hope even though he had hurt me. After doing it, I realized that I seemed a bit crazy, even the police came by my house twice to see if I wanted them to give him a warning but I figured he had enough trouble in his life without me adding to it. Nothing really came of it until I had a group of volunteers from Western Carolina University in Layou and then that little thing called karma showed her beautiful face to me.

In May, as I was rushing from my house to the school after one of the group participant's had an accident, I came across a van. Since I was in need of any way to get to the school faster, I peaked my head into the van and found Mr. Morris sitting behind the wheel. After a quick assessment of sobriety, I asked for a ride and he agreed. As soon as I got in the van, I felt nervous. I had never heard from him again after that night and had flown under the radar in terms of seeing him on the streets or at a rum shop. As I put my seat belt on and he started to drive, he looked over and said, "What's your name?" It occurred to me that he had NO idea who I was and my nervousness increased. "I'm Sarah. I'm the Peace Corps volunteer that works with the school."

I could see the light bulb go off. All of the sudden, Mr. Morris was explaining to me how that was the nicest letter that he had ever received and that he was sorry. Over and over again, he explained how the rum had gotten the best of him that night and that he could not forgive himself. He said he had been wondering when he would run into me (of course not knowing what he was looking for was proving to be a challenge). Well, I have to admit, I am person of faith but when actions of love and compassion lead to a ride when you need it the most, it has a way of bolstering your beliefs in the goodness of humanity. In a way, he said and did everything I would ever have hoped for in terms of 'repairing' the heartache of that night.

Now I see Mr. Morris on a pretty regular basis. Sometimes he is two sheets to the wind so I just wave and keep walking. Other times, he is more coherent so I join him for a coke and he tells me stories of when he first moved to England, how his farm is doing or how sad he is that his wife does not want to come back to St. Vincent. Sometimes he will tell the guys around us that I called him a drunkard which I have to remind him is not at all the case but most of all he tells them about how he got the letter. Sometimes he'll even go to his van, which is always parked near by, and get it so others can read. When I leave him, I always remind him to be safe (aka please don't drive!) and that I meant what I said in the letter.

Now, I am an advocate for love letters.

Especially those written to the people who have caused us heartache.

Write one today.

You just never know.

Love is the one thing.

**Blog about the incident, http://smithersisland.blogspot.com/2011/04/please-read-but-only-when-sober.html**

Poor Who?

I have been thinking a lot about the important role that language plays in defining the reality that we, as humans, feel that we exist in. I find this especially challenging working for a development organization where I am constantly navigating the daily experience of living in a country that has significantly different opportunities and resources than my own. When I joined Peace Corps, I used words like “third world, underdeveloped and the ‘right’ way.” The more time that I spend in St. Vincent, the more I feel that these words are subtle judgments that insinuate that there really is a perfect existence that we can create and dwell in, a first (and best) world. Recently, when I saw 15 minutes of CNN while waiting to pay my water bill, I realized that the concept of development has changed for me. The fact that we (the ‘developed’ world) are killing others in the name of democracy and religion or that we are on the edge of another recession with many people carrying excessively more debt than they will ever be able to repay or that our political leaders are not using the most basic common sense and there is more coverage over a man’s internet escapades than the huge challenges that face creation at this point in time seems downright primitive (to me).

I believe that we can only be what we tell ourselves to be so if, as CNN would report, we are a world of violence and politics, then it could be assumed that we can only create a future world with more inhumanity and divide. I often wonder if we started to tell ourselves a different story about what is happening in the world or maybe just a more balanced story, would it be possible to change the world. I am not trying to advocate for ignorance but rather a less judgmental and fear-inspiring language that might possibly be able to give birth to hope. And in that hope, we might be able to work to create a world where humanity is truly developed. All of us could be fully developed into mature, loving individuals that embrace differences and work every day to ensure that every person has enough to make it through their years on earth without unnecessary pain and suffering. Surely this task alone would keep all of us very busy. I guess, regardless of what I think or hope, I do not have much sway in the world and probably will never be able to convince CNN to change their business model to one that inspires more compassion than fear. Since, I can only stand within my own power, I will share a story of a friend of mine in Layou. I hope that maybe, by sharing my story, it will inspire others to share theirs. I know, without a doubt, that there are things happening in the world that serve as reminders that we are all a part of this great human race and despite colors and language and dress and religion, at our most primitive level, we just want to connect and feel loved. Maybe if we could realize that on a more regular basis, we would stop all of the nonsense and come together because there are those who are hurting among us and everyone could use another friend.

There is a man in Layou who moves things. Poor Me is his name. He will come and get your gas tank when it runs out. He brings beer to the rum shops and soda to the grocery store. He walks faster than anyone I know and is always pushing around a large load. He cannot possibly weigh more than 100 pounds. He is always friendly and wearing a smile with his oversized clothes.

There is a man in Layou who moved me. Samuel is his name. The first time I got to know him was when my gas ran out. He came to my house and quickly exchanged an old tank for a new one. The second time he came to my house, he taught me how to put the top on the gas canister. Then he made me do it by myself, twice, just to ensure that I really understood. He made me smile and helped me to feel like I could do something that I had never tried before. He always says “Hi.” Last week, he borrowed $20 from me because he said he had gotten in bad with someone and they were chasing him down. Sometimes I see him sitting on the curb with his head low, telling me that his heart went with the Sunset (brand of strong rum). Every day he is my friend and reminds me how I have so much more to learn in the world. Every day he reminds me to teach better and work hard so that children will have more opportunities in the future.

There is a man in Layou. I asked him once if I could take his picture. He said, “sure” and looked beautiful for my camera. I told him that I wanted to tell the world how he had helped me. I had the picture printed. Tears rolled down his face when I gave him the picture, it was the first one of himself that he had ever had. I put one up on my wall next to a picture of my family so everyone knows how important he is. I asked him if I could stop calling him Po’ Me and stick to Samuel since I could not see a poor thing about him. In fact he is rich in all of the worldly treasures that I have been searching for; humility, graciousness and kindness. There is a man in my community and he is my teacher. We’ve mastered the gas tank, now we’re moving to bigger things.

The Next

When I look into the eyes of our children

I see a wide world of opportunity

Others may tell me that they are dotish* or lazy

but I refuse to tell myself that the future of mankind is anything short of sweet infinity

and that God, surely, does not place darkness in the heart of us all

but rather

gives us a birth of imperfect brilliance

So I look into their eyes and mutter to myself,

"Dear Universe,

Please tell. Does it happen like I hope? Where they each move forward in the world in a one step at a time kind of way, just basking in the glory of you. Sweet Destiny."

So I turn back to my class and say,

"Heaven, my children, it is knocking on our door. Who would like to go for it?"

And I believe

If we just told them how very important they truly are

God, yes God, would come knocking for us all.

Let us take precious care of our children.

For they are God's promise that heaven lies in the future of the next.

*dotish: dialect word meaning ignorant, foolish, stupid (or a combination of the three)*

Typically Untypical Day

I was asked to write a "Typical Day" piece for incoming volunteers. I am not sure that Peace Corps will actually use it because let's be honest, they might be looking for something a little more straightforward and I have found my life is a twisting, wonderful, often confusing ride these days. Anyways, I enjoyed reading over it and thought it would be worth sharing.

I would also like to extend my sincerest gratitude for everyone's love and compassion the past few months. It is through others that I continue to find myself. It is in that universal love that I continue to find hope.

My typical day, well that’s funny to say because since I arrived, every waking moment has brought anything but what can be called typical. So instead of trying in any way to suggest that my experience is par for the course of a Peace Corps volunteer or that I am doing it “right” because I was asked to write this; I have decided to write about what a typical untypical day in the life me, just a regular person who also happens to be a Peace Corps volunteer, is like living on the small island of St. Vincent and the Grenadines.

Good days begin early in the morning. If my eyes open at 6am, I have enough time to do laundry by hand, prepare my lessons for school and to listen to all of the latest island tunes. I walk down to school, passing new friends along the way. There are more and more to talk to every day. At school, I take a deep breath and try to help kids believe in themselves. I let them be goofy. I give them hugs. I smile and let them know the world is their oyster. And plenty of days, this simple task seems monumental for that you will quickly see: poverty, injustice, abuse and oppression have created such a grave situation that to even begin to think about turning it around can often times be overwhelming. But don’t worry because despite there being a large task ahead of us, the volunteers, the rest of my day is always filled with more “hellos,” hugs and moments that make you realize how sweet Vincy life is.

If I could do it all over again, that is to say if I could have known something prior to arriving on the island, I wish that I had spent time thinking about how I can stand within my own power as a female on this island. The culture can be tough. You will be told that you are sexy and sweet more times than you thought possible. You will be challenged by the school environment and the speed of the vans. The heat can be overwhelming as well as the wash. You will see many familiar things in the stores but will be limited by your living allowance. All of the sudden, the things you took for granted will no longer be available or they will come at a high price. Music here can be loud. Life here can be loud. But amongst all of that noise, I know that if you try, you will find a special kind of peace, one that can only be found when you are forced to join others in community to make existence more bearable. So please, also, prepare yourself to have the time of your life. We are so excited for your arrival. Get ready for the whole experience, it is beautiful. That is the only thing I know for certain. Your next two years as a Peace Corps volunteer can be downright gorgeous if you do it your own way! Please pack all of the things you are good at; there is a place for your skill to be shared on this island.

Update from the Group

By Jay Hinton

While waiting for Autumn to wake from a nap, I am looking out our window towards a back street of Layou. My view consists of a few homes on a tropical hillside with a large knob mountain behind them. One home is painted peach and white while the other is unpainted cinder block. Occasionally a car or person will pass on the road in front of the houses as the warm breeze blows and dogs and other animals can be heard in the distance.

I've been thinking of what it's like to be a brief stranger in a strange land. Often as our group walks around town there are many people we pass who just watch us without saying a work. On this island, "clear skinned" people are pretty uncommon so it just makes sense that people want to have a look at us. There are also those who will greet us with a "Good Morning" or "Good Day." On the other tend of the continuum we have had people that have spent everyday with us and that is what has really made me feel welcomed here. WE have gotten to know people who have gone out of their way to transport us, play with us, cook for and eat with us, organize behind the scenes for us, care for minor injuries and just be with us.

Carrying this thought forward, I thought of people who are in my home community but are not in their home culture or who just don't fit the mold of society. Am I the person just watching them pass by without saying a word? Sometimes I am. Am I the person going out of my way to help provide them with comfort, understanding and friendship? Sometimes I am. Can I do better? Absolutely, I can. Will it make me uncomfortable? Probably. But now I know that's what I need to strive to do more of.

There are teachers from Jamaica who will be in Cullowhee this summer. How can I/we go out of the way to befriend and help them? There's a family in Cullowhee from South Korea. There son is in Noah's class. We've already had some interactions with them but how can I kick that up a notch? There are students on our campus from Saudi Arabia. I've made friends with one but it's been mostly on my terms and turf. How can I/we expand on that? There are people in our community who have basic needs that aren't met or who are suffering due to negligence or abuse. I help some with them but it's mostly non-relational help. There is a Hispanic congregation in our church, what are we doing with them?

The experience here in St. Vincent has reminded me that Jesus gave the ultimate example of the power of relational living with those who are different and in need. He showed us amazing things can happen if we'll just take a step or two away from our comfort areas. I don' t think he wants me in a place so far from comfort that I feel in danger but being in a place of evolving challenger certainly feel like the example of Jesus for me.