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.

And the shadows darkened the door...

By Jennifer Hinton

It sounds like the start to a good chapter in a suspense novel. Something dark and dreary is sure to happen but in this case each time the shadows darkened the door, there were hushed squeals of delight as small throngs of Vincentian children fought for viewing space of the mural that was coming alive on their library wall. Each time a class passed by for PE or there was a break time or lunch, faces would peer in through wire-covered windows or the library doorway to catch a glimpse of the progress on the artwork. Bert, one of the grade 6 students who loves art but often receives little praise in that area, drew most of the mural with Ashley, one of the Wesley Students. He has been granted permission to spend his Friday painting side-by-side with us, making his space theme creations come into a colorful view. I especially enjoyed watching Noah do a short video interview with Bert about his artwork and how and why he was chosen for the project. While he'd been quite reserved with me, he was proud to tell Noah he was a good artist and a capable choice for the job.

Honestly, I 've enjoyed watching my kids with the Vincentian kids immensely each day. One boy-only a year older and just as skinny, has decided Noah needs a "big brother." Another told me that he and Noah were "conducting business" the other night when they were discussing beautiful girls. Autumn has enjoyed the attention of a few of the quieter girls who like to read with her, and of one little boy who is at our campsite each evening nicknamed "Little Man" who will run circles and play board games with her.

Back to the library painting, which is serious business. Along with Bert's mural, I got a Vincentian flag on another wall and Co-Co bordered a door in Victorian curlicues. By the end of the day, after we had enjoyed a wonderful potluck luncheon from the teachers at Layou Government School, we could then clear all of the shelves and other furniture out of the room. Jay, Kimberly and Noah stayed to help three of our Vincentian friends--Tony, Gosnel and Joel--paint the floor. Our hope is that by Sunday we can have the floor dry so that we can touch up our paintings, replace the shelves and fill them with all of the books that the group has sorted by reading level, stacked, labeled and stamped. Sarah is going to have a group of grade 6 students manage the library and hopes they someday will have money for a computer and bar code system so student will have a more sophisticated (Dewey decimal) system for searching and checking out books.

What I really love about the new library space is that it is to be an encouraging space where each student is to be uplifted and respected. Sarah is hoping to make it a place where only positive reinforcement is utilized-- a safe haven for learning. As we've poured over the books that are about to go onto freshly painted shelves-- both the old classics that were there and the new paperbacks that were donated- we often gushed with delight about the joy reading has brought throughout our young lives. My school and hometown libraries brought me sanctuary and took me to exotic places like St. Vincent-- all within a mile of my home. I pray this library is both the sanctuary and exotic escape I loved-- for these children, I now love also.

Noah

So if you would believe it, my first time to the hospital in St. Vincent was with Noah, the 9 year old volunteer from the Western Carolina Group. Noah was playing in the school yard and accidentally fell and landed face first on one of St. Vincent's finest schoolyard hazards, a big rock. Well, I am happy to report that Noah survived a full trip to the hospital and is looking straight gangsta here in St. Vincent. He has earned his street credit and I am most proud to report that he didn't earn his cred through hurting others but by living in a way that embraces that simple connection we can have with all of creation.
The following two diddies are for Noah and his dad, Jay. I also want to report that I have an addition to the Mr. Morris story/ "Please only read when sober" blog and I will get that up as soon as the group leaves and I have time to write more.
As always, thank you to everyone, everyone, everyone for being here in spirit. I am there in spirit!

Of A
I am of a land where the kids are forced to be rough
Where nurses tell little boys that falling down and standing back up is the way to become a man.
Where you meet friends as you wait outside the hospital praying for grace and mercy.
I am of a God that brings privileged 9 year olds to play
With those that have been left behind by the world.
I am of a God that places my abuser in the path of righteousness and forgiveness.
I am of a God that is ever-loving.
And that is how, I’m not freaking out.
Deep inside me, I know that peace will reign forever and that my rough boys are going to shower love on that sweet boy.
So
From them, he gets a little bit braver
And
From him, they get a little softer.
Yes
Indeed
I believe that these tiny accidents are miracles working.
God is right in front of my eyes.


For Jay
Dear Dad
I want you to know
That I am impossibly strong.
A real superhero of sorts because
I am a young man who values people.
So know that I will probably fall on my face many more times
And there are sure to be many heartaches ahead but that is
Because
I put myself out there
I embrace my vulnerability yet I never stop running
God has big things in store for me this lifetime.
So be brave, father.
Trust God, father.
Your little man is going to make the world a better place
And
All those scars
That you look and see
How short life can be.
Those scars
They are me.
Strong
Brave
Steady
A warrior of peace.

Update #3

By Molly, A true leader of the heart

Before we started our trip to St. Vincent, I was unsure of what to expect. However, as soon as we got through customs at the airport, I knew that I was about to have an amazing time. I was the first person to walk out of the airport and I was greeted with a very warm welcome. Every person I have met has been very welcoming to every one of us! Even though we have only known our new friends for a few days, it seems like we've been friends forever.

Walking into the school on Monday was an experience I will never forget. Every child we saw seemed overjoyed to have us there. The best feeling I've had since being here is when I am at school and all of the children hug as many times as they can. All the children here want is love. Love from their family, love from their friends and love from the community. It's made me become more childlike. Childlike in the sense of carefree-ness but most importantly, childlike in the sense of being a child of God.

To have the opportunity to be here in ST. Vincent and show the children and other people int he community love is one of teh greatest things we could ever do on a mission trip.

Since being here, we've been referred to as many thing by many people, Vincentians and Americans alike. "Americans, white, miss, them." And we have referred to the people living here as many things as well. "Vincentians, black, them." However, being here makes you start to think of many things like why do we, as Americans, as Vincentians, as neighbors in the same global community need a distinction? In the end, the biggest lesson I've learned so far here is that THEY are not THEY. THEY are US and WE are THEY. Regardless if the relationships are between different countries or within the same country. We are all created by one Father. We are all brothers and sisters in Christ. Experiences like the one we're having now, are once in a lifetime and to learn that it's okay to look at someone as only another child of God during this experience is something that I feel everyone should get the chance to have. You can definitely experience it in another country but more importantly, you can experience it in your home country and in your own neighborhood.

Opportunities like this are very special and I want to challenge everyone, myself included, to see them out and act upon them in ways that Christ would.

Update from the Group!

By Kimberly, One Special Young Woman.

As a photographer, I have a strange sense of beautiful. Most people see a beach as a beach and nothing special but I take the time to appreciate it and the surrounding objects and the way the light hits it and see it is beautiful, then I try to capture it as best as I possibly can.

As I have been in St. Vincent these past couple of days, I’ve wondered why I see beauty in some of the tragic things, like the tin shacks across the street from the ornate houses or the the trash in the streets that no one seems to think twice of or the overall poverty in general. Today, we went to Dark View Falls with several Vincentian men and women and we got to know them a lot. At first, we had the awkward silence of trying to find something to talk about but as we swam at the falls we began to get comfortable with each other. By lunch, we were all having a great time. And as we all got to asking questions about each other’s culture, with questions as strange as “Do you say ‘huh’?” I began to admire the beautiful spirit of these people and then began to understand why I see beauty in so much. I see the spirit in those with large, ornate houses who left their home when they were young to seek opportunity abroad and came back when they were old and successful to make a life for themselves, and those with poor shacks, I see the beautiful resiliency of those who will not quit despite their circumstances.

And on the way back to camp, as we rode the bus, they shared their joy with us as we all started standing up and dancing to the music of both of our cultures, having the time of our lives. And despite my strange sense of beautiful, I think everyone was able to see the world as I see it for a moment and agree, that it is, indeed, beautiful.

Update from the group!

By Christin Wilson

No matter where you are there are a few things that don’t change no matter how far you go from home. If you can find those connections then home really is where the heart is…

*Kids are kids, we played, we danced, we sang.

*Although it is only our first day we have already been reminded, (while rolling down a hill, or playing a make shift skip it with a branch from a tree) that we were all children once. If we try hard enough then we will find that child that we once were, and I really think that is the first gift that the children of St. Vincent have given the Wesley group.

*First impressions last

*As soon as we saw natives the whole group yelled “Good morning” and waved and it had the same meaning that it would have if we were walking to class at school.

*The sunsets are beautiful

*As we set on the hill and looked out over Bequia and Kingston and it was breath taking, as it is when we are sitting on the beach at home.

*It’s hot when it’s hot

*We were all sitting on a van and I look at the little girl sitting next to me and she says “it’s really hot” and I was thinking “Yess” I’m glad the natives think it’s hot to.

There are differences that may give the Wesley group some trouble: like the heavy dialect, the van rides, the dance moves (that the Americans cannot keep us with), and the heat. Those are things that I think that we will learn how to live with in the ten days we are here. While we are constantly remembering that this is not our home, we are also constantly being reminding that this is their home that they are kindly sharing with us for ten days. Yes the life style is different and maybe the way they think and the way they dance.

But at the end of the day people are people and if we take the time to make that connection with the people around us then we have no reason to ever feel alone. People like food and good conversation, and when we mix those two things together then it’d be amazing that what we can learn from each other. We could always use a little more love and that’s why the 15 of us are here, to show God’s love in a way that others can feel it. The truth of the matter is that as soon as you give away that kind of love it comes back to you….

Technical Difficulties and Sunny Skies!

I just wanted to report that I had some technical difficulties this weekend and that the journal updates for the WCU WSF Partnership for Peace will be up this afternoon! Sorry for the delay!

I also wanted to let everyone know that the group has arrived safely and has had a RIP ROARING good weekend! The group has already made new friends, seen a waterfall, volunteered at a boy's home, partnered with primary school students to make a difference, tried new food and enjoyed two of St. Vincent's beautiful beaches! Everyone is in good health and good spirits. The challenges of a completely new environment and oppressive heat have been unavoidable but I will report, as the group outsider, that everyone is shining with resiliency. Sunny skies are here to stay!

Do something great today in celebration of the great things that are happening in St. Vincent!

Some People

Just ROCK!

No seriously. I have come to realize this over and over and over again since my arrival in St. Vincent. I know that I was aware of it while I was in the states but something about being far from home has opened my eyes to all of the wonderful people in the world. These are the people who take time. They take time to be with their friends and family. They take time to show everyone love and respect. They take time to make the world a better place.

This coming Friday, I am lucky to be joined by a group of these super souls! A group of students (and their leaders and their leader's kids) from the Wesley Student Group of Western Carolina University are coming to SVG!! Together with the Layou community, they will help revitalize a school library and create a learning space that begs children to come inside and explore. They will help the school utilize a HUGE book donation from the International Alliance for Child Literacy (more on this in a future blog!) that will ensure that every student can borrow a book every night of the week. Yep, I said it, some people just ROCK!

And since you rock and they rock... we will be keeping a daily journal and posting it here! It will be a great way for the students to show the progress in the library and for me to show an intimate piece of my volunteer work in St. Vincent.

To get the party started, the group created a video that can be seen here, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gNjYdiNY-_I or by searching "St. Vincent" pre-trip on YouTube.

I am thrilled to have these Partners in Peace coming to my beautiful island home and I feel so downright lucky to know that there are people like this all over the world. Surely, if we all joined together, we could move mountains.

So Freaking Important

Disclaimer: If you choose to read this please go to the end. I come off as hostile and itchy at the beginning but I promise to turn it around by the end. Sometimes, I just have to say what’s on my mind folks. Thanks for loving me as me.

S*it ain’t easy

Pardon my French but I just want everyone to know that my life ain’t easy. To steal a fellow volunteer’s words, “I dare you” to give up your sweet "developed" world life. I dare you to say goodbye to your friends, family and dog and move to a place where you know not another living soul. Oh, by the way, we are also going to make sure that you stick out like a sore thumb. I dare you to try to have enough faith in your support system back home that they will call you, write you and send you Thai curry and deodorant (thanks sweet Pablo) on a regular basis to ensure that you won’t forget that you are loved. I dare you to put yourself in a position that is in line with most of the world; you won’t make any money, you won’t have much hope, everyday you work your butt off(literally) and never have much to show for it. Then we are going to throw in wrenches like violence against you and your community, words of hatred and modern day oppression. We will send tourist through your town on buses so they can take pictures of you like you are in the zoo, make assumptions about how you live, and also be so afraid of what “you people” might do that they never stop the bus to 1. Ask permission to take your picture and 2. To introduce themselves and develop a friendship.

You would think I am joking. Actually, you would probably want to cover my mouth and tell me to go back to telling all of the endearing stories about how your neighbors have you rolling on the ground making Michael Jackson “Thriller” videos on your front porch but you cannot silence me. Those stories are living here too and I am going to keep sharing them but I want to make a stand. I want to tell you why those stories are so valuable to me. Every morning, I find myself opening my eyes again despite sometimes telling God the night before that it would be okay if they never opened up again. Every morning, I unlock my 6 (no joke) different security devices and head down the road to help kids believe in themselves. Every morning, I hold my head high and know that the world does not need me giving up hope. The world does not need to me to shut my eyes. The world needs me to take care. The world needs me to not forget about others.

As I write this, I know, more than anything, that “s*it ain’t easy” applies to everyone; regardless of where you live, the color of your skin or the amount of money in your bank account. All we have to do is look into the world and see people hurting. My friend just lost her mother. My friend just got raped. My friend did not eat dinner last night. My friend is going through a divorce and feels alone. My friend is in a relationship and feels alone. My friend has to figure out how to be a parent in this crazy world. My friends are having a hard time. I get it. I am in the boat with you. I have an idea and I hope it works because honestly, I am tired and I am alone and I feel like giving up.

My idea is that we come together.

Seriously, let’s try it. If you are going grocery shopping, invite a friend. If you are watching baseball, invite a friend. Whatever you are doing, stop doing it alone. If it is not possible to share in the moment, then share afterwards. If you are afraid that no one cares, send your story to me. I will listen. By you acknowledging me as a witness, I can acknowledge that what you are doing in the world is pretty darn fantastic. Pick up the phone. Make a two minute call to your friends and family to tell them that you love them.

Being busy should no longer be an excuse. Being busy is going to be the end of us.

I beg this of you.

If you are a parent, make an effort every single day to tell your children that you love them; absolutely. unconditionally.

If you are a friend, take advantage of every moment you have to spend time together.

If you are a family, develop ways to stay together; despite distances and differences.

If you are a human, take responsibility and help someone.

The world needs you right now.

I need you right now.

You are so freaking important it is unbelievable.

underestimation

once there was a powerful man

someone who could change da world

he did not know it, no, not yet

but as each sun rose and fell

God lookah down upon the man an’ sey

“Today, boy, today. You can come alive.

Today, boy, today. You can be beyond ya wildest dream.

Today, boy, today. You can do it ah.”

And then God whispered

“An if today seems too hard to bear.

Don’cha worry mi boy.

Jes rest yo mind. have faith. and dream a beautiful dream.

Because tomorrow, I ah wake you once again.

An’ I jes know you are on the cusp of livin’.

be happy. love deeply.

You are tha beautiful man, boy.

When the sun ah come, wake up an’ live boy.”

Please Read but Only When Sober

This entry is lightly censored* due to Peace Corps policy but the essence is the same and the letter is the one I gave. I also would like to reiterate that this is my opinion and my opinion alone. I publish with the most humble heart and hope that it is not misinterpreted but seen as the only way I can make sense of life. In the moments that I am most afraid, I will not close my door. I will welcome all of the things that scare me into my arms with the same compassion that I hug those that I love.

I believe that we can have a better world. I believe without a doubt. Without a doubt I believe.

This past Friday was a long one. We had our 50th Anniversary celebration for Peace Corps. It was an all day affair and a time when I reaffirmed my belief in the mission of this organization. It was also the end of one of the hardest weeks I have had in the Peace Corps. Two of my volunteer sisters had unimaginable violence committed against them and returned to the states to find healing and comfort in the arms of their family and US friends. In typical bureaucratic fashion, our post had called us to a meeting to discuss how our behavior was leading us into violence. Anyone who has ever worked with victims of violence, poverty and oppression know that there is no sense in the chaos that plagues humanity. Violence is not the victim's fault. It is the victim’s responsibility to grow, heal and move forward in a compassionate way. It is the community’s responsibility make a stand against the things that continue to promote chaos and injustice. It is the community’s responsibility to love both the victim and the offender because we know that if we have humans in the world who rob others, the hatred in their heart is born of their experience and lack of love.

Late Friday night, I went with a good friend of mine to park his bus. As we traveled up the back road of Layou in one of the nicest neighborhoods, we came upon two men blocking the road*. It was late and the day had been long. I hopped out of the bus to see if I could assist. I came upon one man trying to convince an overwhelmingly intoxicated man to go into his gate and go to bed. In order for that to happen he would need to move his bicycle* approximately 20 feet out of the road. Now, where I come from, riding a bicycle* while completely intoxicated is not only a bad idea, it is illegal. I looked at the man and said, “Nah, you can’t be riding that thing even if it is only a short distance. Let me do it for you.” Well wouldn’t you know, as soon as I move the bicycle* and get off of it, the drunk man is in my face, putting his hands on me. Shoving me around like I am some subhuman that will just roll over and let him abuse me. He shouts me. He calls me names. He pushes away my friend and the other man, he wants to strangle me but he doesn’t get that far. I stood my ground. I told him I was not afraid. Inside I was shaking , I tried a couple times to get him to stand up and go in his gate. I banged on his door in a vain hope that his wife would come to the door and he would "snap to." She didn’t come and honestly, I don’t blame her. I wouldn’t want that coming in my house either.

Eventually I had enough and I thought my friend might be driven to clock the guy in the face. As much as I was angry and scared, I really didn’t want to see anyone get hurt. I was hurt enough for everyone there. Let’s leave it at that. I went home that night and cried. I spoke to my friends here and tried to figure out what to do. I went to the police and asked what they could do to help me—they would speak to him and let him know that he is being warned and he cannot hurt others. I went to my Vincentian mother, Florence, and asked if she would be willing to go with me to talk to him. I found peace knowing that I had people who were willing to make a stand with me. I know that I could tell the story to other people and they would join me as well. But at this point, I feel supported and loved, so I did what suits me best. I wrote. I wrote Mr. Morris a letter and I delivered it to his doorstep in an envelope marked “Please open but only when sober.” Inside he will find the letter below. Before I share, I would like to beg of you that you do not shake your head in fear and make this a “those people” story. This man is probably my father’s age, he lived in a developed country for the past 40 some odd years and he is sick with alcoholism. When I asked the police, if there were any resources available that might help him with this disease, they said “no.” So if this story outrages you, do something about it. You don’t have to do it here but show someone love in your community. I am trying to do my piece of making peace. I hope you will join me. Also if anyone has a bright idea on how to help developing countries have access to resources like alcoholics anonymous, speak up!

April 17, 2011
Dear Mr. Morris,
I am not sure if you remember this but last Friday you broke my heart. You put your hands on me. You criticized me for something I have no control over; my race and my gender. I hurt. I hurt still. I really was only trying to help. I take responsibility for my actions—I know that I could have done something differently to have shown you more compassion. I forgive myself and I forgive you.
I want you to know, more than anything, that I love you as my own brother. I am deeply concerned that you hurt yourself by abusing alcohol and others. I want you to know that I believe you are capable of living in a way that is brighter and full of love. I want you to know that I will do anything in my power to help you but you have to ask me for what you need. Until I hear from you, I promise to always show you love and compassion when I see you on the road. I have unrelenting hope that you can be a beautiful person and make a worthy contribution to the world.
Love and respect,
Sarah

50 years. 1 crazy idea.

Below is a speech that I wrote for the Peace Corps 50th Anniversary Celebration in St. Vincent. The actual anniversary is March 1st but you will find that we have all integrated quite nicely into the island lifestyle so our exhibition and appreciation ceremony happened this past Friday.

Recently, I asked my grade 6 composition class at the Layou Government School to tell me what they thought about peace. I asked them to describe what it is, what it looks like and how we, the world, can get more of it. I wanted to take this opportunity to share some of their responses.
To the question, what is Peace?

• Peace is the ability to do anything.




• Peace describes a society or relationship that is operating harmoniously and without violent conflict.




• Peace is freedom.
  
  


• Peace is togetherness.
  

To the question, what does peace look like?

• Peace looks like a community coming together to build a house.




• Peace is when people can see a big smile on your face.




• Peace looks like love, happiness and communication.
  

To the question, how do we get more peace?

• Admit when we are wrong




• Train our families to love.




• Show kindness.




• Have love and trust.




• We get peace when someone else shows it.
  

Overall, I believe all of the students would appreciate Beco’s closing statement, “Peace is a nice thing for people. If you do not have anything; people will give you peace.”
Bright students, they are so bright. For me, I find a certain kind of peace knowing that these are the minds that will be leading the future.

In addition to writing about peace, they were given the opportunity to create a picture. I was surprised by the number of swords that appeared and finally I asked a student, “Why the sword?” and she looked back at me like I had just asked her the most ridiculous question, “Miss Smith, ahwee gohalfoo fight for werle peace, ya know.” (rough translation- All of us are going to have to fight for world peace)

And you know what, I think she is right. I think the world is at a place where people who truly believe that peace is possible should join together, rise up and fight against the chaos that plagues our world daily. Of course, the other thing I noticed was that all of the swords had hearts on them. And that leads me to believe that I am surrounded by the most brilliant group of students out there because they know, without a doubt, that the only way to fight chaos is by love. Love will set us free. And when we are all free, there will be peace.

In closing, I would like to reiterate our most sincere and humble gratitude for hosting Peace Corps around the world for the last 50 years and in St. Vincent for the last 44. As we move forward in the next 50 years, I have only one request; that you will continue to join us in this mission of world harmony and friendship. Together, I believe, we can fight injustice with compassion and let peace prevail.

All ahwee ah peace core. (rough translation- All of us are Peace Corps)

For the Brave Ones

This little diddy goes out to the brave ones that I know that never give up hope. This is for the people who look in the face of inequality, injustice, poverty, oppression, violence and hatred with wide eyes and open hearts. This is for the ones who whisper in life's ear, "oh yeah, I'm not going to believe that it has to be this way. I know we can change." This is for the lovers that let compassion triumph over fear.

u n relenting hope.

and there will be moments when it feels like there is a gun

cocked to the side of my head

but I will no longer bend into fear.

I will no longer let despair darken my heart.

when the gun is held to the side of my head,

I will look back at the barrel and say

without a single doubt

THERE IS NOTHING YOU CAN DO TO MAKE ME GIVE UP HOPE

and

you know

the more i think about it, the more i believe

the ones holding the guns

they really just need to be looked in the eye and told

Yes, you, with all of your ugliness, you are capable of doing something beautiful.

You can begin right now by lowering your weapon and giving me love.

I need it

I am scared out of my mind.

record beauty

we all need beautiful

pictures of ourselves. They help us to see that

we are worthy of love and becoming that beautiful

person that acts in our hopeful daydreams.

Recognizing our own beauty will empower us.

We will know we are capable of being anything we can dream ourselves

to. be. people that are happy because they have nothing but love.

ah love fo ah wee is what they would say down here

rough translation: all love for all we

and that

my friends

is how you start

to change the world.

the neighbor who ensures that my life is kept interesting

bright eyes. big world.

strong enough to go against the grain

stunningly beautiful american woman.

dedicated crew

for death begins with life's first breath

and life begins at touch of death

(quote on his shirt by John Oxenham)

The Courage to Be: A Smithers Island Reader's Guide

This past Friday, I had the privilege of working with two other Peace Corps volunteers to lead a resiliency training for our newest gang of trainees, EC 83. During the training, a light bulb went off; I suddenly realized that having resiliency in life is really having the courage to be. To be the imperfect, always curious, decision making, beautiful human being that all of us are. To stand within our own power to make a difference in this wild world of ours. True resiliency requires us to own our reality, forgive ourselves and move gently forward with compassion for self and others.

Leading the training, got me to thinking about this little blog I have going. It has been a crazy experience. I have moved from feeling like I HAD to write something to everyday thinking of something I just have to share because I hope that it will bring a smile to someone's face. Of course, the daily routine and my own fear of really becoming a "story teller," often get in the way and you all end up with a post a week (I am still working on it). As with anything that could potentially go to a large audience, I worry that my intentions in sharing stories could be misconstrued so I developed a reader's guide so that you (the proverbial reader) and I (Miss Sarah Smith) will be on the same (web)page.

1. I do not work in a silo, nor do I want to. Everything that I do here in St. Vincent is done only through the relationships that I have. I would not be able to volunteer for two years away from home if I didn't have my friends and family support me. I would not be able to be an effective teacher if I didn't have the support from other teachers and my principal. It might look like I am a hero but really I am just a person who likes to tell stories. I only feel comfortable telling the stories that I have lived. At this point in my life, my experiences are pretty sweet, I mean I do live on an island where people still smile with reckless abandon but I still have a lot of tough moments, it is my support network that continues to remind me that there is beauty in the struggle.

2. I am powerful. And so are you. Often times, I hear people say something along the lines of "Oh I could never do that!" In my mind, all of us are always capable of doing that which will make us happy. For me, it was joining the Peace Corps. For you, it could be anything. I have faith that it doesn't matter whether I am standing in front of a class or just pulling weeds; I have something to share with the world and I want to share it even if the act of sharing can be a scary experience. No one is better than me and I am better than no one.

3. This is not a here and there issue; this is an everywhere issue. For me, the easiest thing to do with this experience would be to put it in a box and label everything as a "there" issue. "Boy am I happy to live in America where none of that crazy stuff that was happening in St. Vincent is going down, " I would say after I move home and it would be true. I would most likely be one of the blissfully ignorant. I wouldn't be a bad person at all but I would always put a distance between myself and the inhumanity of the world. The longer I am here, the more I realize that although I am not responsible for the hatred and oppression that have led to a world in which children go to bed hungry when there is more than enough to go around, ultimately, as a human, I have a responsibility for bending the world towards the positive. If I refuse to even acknowledge that people are suffering everywhere (namely right next door in that perfect McMansion not just in developing countries) then the separation between people will continue to grow and only cause more unrest. I am responsible for not contributing to making that space between my heart and yours any bigger. Nothing is nothing so do something.

4. I cannot go it alone. Alright, so this is where the reader's guide gets really personal but I can't expect anyone to do anything that I won't do myself. This is me, asking you for what I need. So here it is, I want to become a professional story creator (writing, doodles, pictures). If you like what you see here tell your friends. Pass it on. If something I write doesn't sit right with you, let me know. If you ever feel hopeless after reading a Smithers Island story, tell me, because the only thing that I am interested in sharing is an absolutely relentless hopefulness that we, as a world, can do better. Harmony can be our reality.

5. From now on, this is just me being unabashedly me.

6. I appreciate you taking the time to read this blog more than you could ever know.

Note to Self:

Don't lose the hope you had as young person.

Love Smithers

Earlier this month, I visited my grandparents in Pensacola, Florida. On the last day of my trip, my Granny met me at the door saying something along the lines of she had something important to share with me. She took me by the hand, led me to her writing desk pushed up to the broad window of the sunlit living room and gave me an email. In October of my senior year, I graduated in December, I had written an email to my mom and sister (who attended the same school), partly as catharsis and partly as appreciation and my mother had printed and mailed it to my Granny. Below is a copy of the email but first a few notes to make sense of it all.

*As a student at Virginia Tech, I volunteered with the YMCA. During my last semester, I worked with Somalian refugees who had been relocated to Blacksburg due to civil war in Somalia. I also worked in an afterschool program at a local mobile home community.

* I love, love, love each and every one of my sorority sisters. Sure, there were some days where all of us would be petty, that's called being human, but I have faith that for the majority of us, each day we wake with the hope in our hearts that we can do better. When I wrote the email, I was young and tended to see many issues as only black or only white when really, when it comes to working with humans, it is always gray. As a human, we are responsible for trying to see the grey; that other side and the good in it.

* Dr. Virginia Fowler was my senior seminar advisor while I was in school. I took a few classes with her when I was in school and I will forever appreciate her stretching my mind and making my boundaries more elastic.

* The soul mate that I was surely talking about is LJ, one of my very close friends. She remains, to this day, someone who I feel unconditionally linked to her soul and her enthusiasm for life.

*Finally, I am not putting this out there to be like "dang, I was AWESOME!" I am putting it out there because I think I so often can forget that I can learn from myself because I can think and I am creative. Re-visiting things that struck someone else or yourself helps you to reconnect with your hopeful self. Save, write down, draw, take pictures of the things that MOVE you in life.

And without further ado...

To: Linda Clouser; Jenny Smith

Sugject: Re:hello

the two greatest loves of my life...

yes, I know Jenny is only 5 minutes away but I thought you would want to hear about it all too so why not just write back to both. Life for me is going pretty well. I can't help but feel this intense amount of anxiety as I come to the edge of what I have always known and seen as life. It seems that at these moments when you are all about making decisions for yourself, whoever is in charge throws a couple of curve balls your way.

I feel that more than ever I am connected to the people that I am helping through the YMCA. I have been able to meet a group of adults that have dedicated their lives to the happiness of others and seen children with smiles bright enough to show up the Rockefeller Christmas tree. But at the same time, I have experienced a great amount of sadness. In the presence of the Somalians, I feel often times out of place and not wanted because I have used my "dumb American" card and not taken the time to learn but the smallest details of their culture and not a word of their language. I am frustrated because I know that I am better than that. I know that it would only have taken me an extra two hours to change and play a more embracing role as a volunteer. At the trailer park, I am so frustrated by watching and experiencing the amount of hurt one human is willing to inflict upon the other. I am frustrated by the lack of education in our public schools about life: the bare essentials- health, sex ed., self esteem, manners. And then I find myself coming to a group of women that are so lucky to be here. They are in school, have friends, are part of a good organization, etc. and yet they still lack the respect for themselves. It has gotten to the point where I just want to scream at all of the gossip and tell them all how lucky they are. We have each other and that is more than most people can say for themselves.

It has been a time of growing and discovering who I am and where I would like to fit in. I find that maybe all of the friends I have made are not the most sincere, that people stop caring about your feelings if they get the personal satisfaction of talking about you and I hate every one of these discoveries because it makes me understand that often times I have been this person. So many times, I have sat on the sideline, talked about the game but never gone in to make a change. It is like Gandhi said, it is not that we do not believe we have the power to change something, it is that we are afraid of being powerful beyond our wildest beliefs. I hope that I have made a difference in the four years that I have spent here. And this is not a pessimistic email saying I haven't done anything or do not have good friends but it hurts when all of it doesn't play out the way you have expected. I have found my soul mate* (possibly mates) at college and I will never ask for more. I have had the privilege of knowing people that will make this world a better place and that I will call my friends forever but this change of life, change of pace has awoken me to the idea that I must be happy with the relationships that I can take with me and learn from the ones that I don't. I look forward to what the world has to offer and hope to spend the coming years of my life in the game rather than on the sideline.

School is going pretty well. I am suffering a huge writer's block (bet you couldn't tell by this email) that my senior seminar professor and I have decided is a manifestation of the anxiety of change/ the real world into what I have always considered my weakest point (my writing). I have spent hours in her office exploring what it means to be human and I can say that with the help of the likes of Morrison and Eliot, there has been some progress made. Each day, I realize once again how lucky I am to have been raised by a relentlessly dedicated and selfless mother and to have a best friend grow up next to me. I know there are times when you both must want to strangle me but I want you to know how thankful I am to have you all in my life. Most people don't get to meet their two greatest heroes so early. Thank you for teaching me what it means to be a woman, a member of the human race and most of all a lover of the hearts that come my way. Jenny, I also thank you for knocking me around a bit when I need it. You all may never understand it and I now a bunch of words sent over an impersonal email won't cut it but you are my angels, my lights and most of all my best friends.

iloveyou

Sprigger T the Phone Thief

Months ago, I had my typical cohort of children playing games and coloring on my living room floor. Since I moved into my own place, my afternoons have been blessed with the smiles and laughter of my neighborhood children. On this particular day, Dexroy Springer, one of my grade 5 students, was walking home from the playing field, saw children at my house and asked if he could join in. I have a strict policy of “Everyone’s Welcomed” so I invited him in. He made a place for himself on the floor and joined the exciting round of Candyland. All of us that grew up playing this game can surely remember just how exciting it can be. I left the living room for a total of two minutes to do something in another room and all of the sudden, my neighbors, Sariyah and Jeziah, are rushing towards me with “Miss! Miss! Miss! Sprigger T thiefed your phone!” Well hot damn, I have known to be aware of thieves in St. Vincent but I didn’t expect it to be in broad daylight by one of my students. I rushed out of the house to shout him but he had taken off down the road at lightning speed with my phone in tow.

At this point, I am beginning to feel a bit panicky. I use my phone a lot down here—not only to chat but also as a number keeper and way to coordinate errands, rides, etc. Also, you can probably already guess this but the Peace Corps salary doesn’t leave much wiggle room for a candy bar ($3 EC) at the end of the month, let alone a new phone ($200 EC). To top it off, I have a phone that you use and then pay for at the end of the month. Most people here have phones that you buy credit on, “top up,” so if you don’t have money then you don’t have a way to call out (novel idea!). My phone can actually top up other’s phones and it is added to my bill. Again, the more I thought about it, the more fear grew in my heart, not only had he taken my phone but he was walking around with endless credit for anyone who was smart enough to figure it out. The phone had been providing the illusion of control in a world and experience where everything seems so beyond my control and here it was, stolen right out of my house by a nine year old that weights no more than fifty pounds that I welcomed through the front door. I would have bet a thousand dollars to say that the first person to rob me would have been a scary man, at least six feet tall and weighing in at two hundred and fifty pounds. Funny how life can take your expectations and turn them on their heads.

In typical Vincy fashion, I headed out to the street, kids following at my heels and anxiously told my neighbors that my phone had just been thiefed by Dexroy. “Sprigger T?” said my neighbor Elvia, “I think he lives in Pashar Hill (a neighborhood in Layou). Let’s go look! We will find him.” So we set off through Layou, asking everyone if they had seen him pass and if they knew where he lived. Layou is not a big town so every person we met brought us closer to our target. Finally, three dark alleys, two barking dogs and one wrong turn later we arrived at Dexroy Springer’s house, a small 2 room clapboard home dangerously balanced on cinder blocks, a small light at the end of a dark walkway. Elvia called out and a woman came towards us to hear the explanation of how this Layou outsider had just had her phone stolen by Dexroy. His grandmother quietly explained that he had just arrived home a few minutes earlier but she had not seen a phone. In my head, I am screaming at the top of my lungs, just another twist in this Peace Corps path that I am already struggling along. Suddenly, I see a small light coming from around the corner and Elvia notices it too. It is Dexroy, huddled in the corner of the yard, desperate to finish the last game he may ever play of Digicel football (soccer on the phone). His grandmother calls him, he rushes into the house and hides in fear, she heads in after him. As mad as I am, I still don’t want him to be physically punished so I anxiously cross my fingers, hoping for a peaceful reunion with my Digicel gold. After about two minutes, his grandmother returns to the path with phone in hand. She places it in my palm and without another word, turns back to the house. Elvia and I head back up the hill to our block. As we are walking, I look at her and say “Thank you and could you please explain why you call Dexroy Sprigger T?” She looks at me, curiously, “You know, spaghetti, like the noodles? We call him Spaghetti because he is skinny like a noodle.” I laugh out loud, partly with relief and partly in gratefulness to whatever God is watching over this and smiling. Originally, I would have ended the story here with some anecdote about how it is great to live in a small community where everyone is willing to join together to help you get through the struggles but that would be selling the whole situation short. Gyal, it turns out that the word spaghetti was not the only thing at risk of getting lost in translation.

Just last week, Dexroy’s grandmother shows up during lunch at the school, ready to rip him a new one because he has gone and spent his $1EC lunch money on cookies during break time (DUH!! Who wouldn’t choose delicious crème filled sandwiches over rice and chicken) and has been telling her that the school is refusing to give him food.. The ever gracious teacher, who runs the feeding program, gently explains to her that this is all part of the process of growing up, deciding how and where to spend money. Dexroy’s grandmother accepts her defeat. A few minutes later, I run into her again at a shop across the street as she is sharing the stresses of parenting a 10 year old child who is trying to figure out who he is and how he fits into the world. As soon as she sees me, she launches into the story of the day my phone made its way to Pashar Hill and how ashamed she feels, “Here, this white woman is here to teach and help and Dexroy thiefs her phone. I don’t know how to turn him against all of this evil.” Her head hangs low and her shoulders slouch forward. I’ve been working on getting bolder so I look her in the eyes and say, “You know what, for Dexroy and me, taking my phone was the very best thing that ever could have happened. Sure, it was hard to deal with the fact that he had violated my trust in him but he made it up. He came back to class, offered a sincere apology and has been the most improved student since. Honestly, I am able to teach him better now that we have lived through this together. In fact, I really love having Sprigger T as one of my students.” She looked at me curiously as if she couldn’t believe that someone had been able to get over being thiefed by someone they had welcomed into their home. I smiled, put my shoulders back and said, “Lawd, if people hadn’t forgiven me for all the chaos I have brought into the world, I wouldn’t be able to be standing right in front of you. We all deserve another chance.” I grabbed my soda off the counter and headed back to the school, knowing that the job ahead of me as a teacher is much more than the ABCs. The work of every person who participates in the life of a child can only begin to be explained as a continuous act of love, forgiveness and faith that everyone is capable of being the best noodle they can be.

the man. the myth. the noodle.

And you thought you had baggage....

Sometimes the thought of writing about everything that is in my mind can be a daunting task. I tend to doodle when I am in class, thinking or just listening to my Vincy sister, Justlyn, tell me how she is handling being a 16 year old who is navigating the rivers of life and love. I like this one and thought I would share. Bottom line, I have to believe that regardless of how I feel at times, my life is unfolding just as it should and that it takes both the joys and the challenges to make it beautiful.

I am sorry it is so small... I am really, really new to this idea of putting my doodles onto a computer. I will work on it so that just in case something else comes along I will be able to share. If anyone has the "know how" please share!

Just to translate- the words are:

"And you thought you had baggage..."

When I think of returning to the states I feel... unsure

I think my family will expect me to... go back to normal

I expect that my friends will be... supportive

Regarding money, I'm going to be...just fine

In terms of future plans, I hope to ... listen to my heart.

Hats Off to Reading!

A Week Long Reading Extravaganza Creating Positive Energy Around Literacy. Tattooing the notion that, "Education is where the magic begins," onto the young minds of students at the Layou Government School.

Subject: Pictures...what, what!!!

Hey Jay! I hope this finds you doing well! I wanted to let you know that I just uploaded a new set of pictures from the school. They turned out really well and I think they might be useful for fundraising and for your students to spread the word about what they will be doing and who they will be working with. I also made a video, which is crazy hard so mad PROPS for all the videos you have put together for the mission trips.The pictures are on facebook and tell the students they can feel free to tag themselves so that they can share with everyone in their network. To be honest, their friends can tag themselves too because the more people that see it and hear about it, the better. The video will be on my blog (well that is if it ever uploads!) and we can do the same thing with facebook (not really sure how to make that happen, tag the post?). I also wanted to talk to you more about the work you are doing as I also think that can aid in raising the energy around the project and getting people involved whether it is donating a dollar or 500 (lets dream big, life is too short not to). Drumroll Please!!!! You all will be the architects of an amazing learning environment where school is a magical place that teaches you about all the secrets the world has to offer. Together with students, you all will be painting murals, cleaning up the library and making the school an enjoyable place to be. You will interact with students to let them know that "Look!" there are so many sides to Americans. Just like there are many different kinds of Vincentians, oh the ones from Layou wear cropped pants and the ones from Georgetown write "Gully" everywhere, the world, not just their homeland of St.Vincent, is FULL of people who are different and you know what, ahhwee (all we), meaning the college students from WCU and the primary school students from LGS, kind of get along quite nicely so doesn't that mean that the whole world can get along. See, when you start to have kids thinking like that, that is when you are really promoting world peace and friendship. Love is viral. If these kids can learn something from you all in the week that you are here it will be that someone, from a completely different planet, can come to my planet and is capable of showing me a hug that is so overwhelmingly full of love, maybe even more than I can get from my own mother, that the world is a small place and really all of us are linked together through the one simple fact that we are humans and we have tender souls that are yearning for love.Through love and a recognition of belonging to the wildest bunch of Doc Martins* that have ever existed, that is to say humanity, a child will be able to find within himself a seed of hope. Just a little bit of light and water from teachers, pastors**, neighbors, family and friends and there you have it, that little seed of hope is growing into a nice, strong tree. I, for one, have always found it downright amazing how trees have the ability to spread their happiness around the world (like it is just the most natural thing to do). You see, if the world was full of people who had trees of hope growing inside of them, we would stop all this nonsense, all this war, all this meanness and realize that life is too short to allow anything but love to come out of us and that in giving, you shall receive.

You all will be lifechangers, seed planters, difference makers.

so just in case I forget to say it in the future, thanks for planning all this out. i know it is not the easiest thing to organize and that there are football games you might rather be watching (either Noah's or some European league) but what you are doing, simply by giving all students at WCU the opportunity to have this once in a lifetime experience that will open their hearts and their minds to always being on the lookout for someone else who they can link souls with, whether it is in Guatemala*** or a kid in their class who looks like life might have dealt him a hand that was harder to make a winner.

You, you are the stuff heroes are made of. A real role model of sorts.

The world. It is. A good place. To be

love smithers

PS- I am putting this on my blog, I know it is our personal emails but shoot, I figured there are people out there reading my blog and they need to hear about the wonderful things you all are fixin to do (would you call that Carolina dialect?!)

PPS- I may request that you bring along strange things like thai curry paste, italian gelato (more on this mordern marvel when you arrive) or exercise balls. Brace yourself, the requests are always small but they get quirkier by the day.... don't they call this cabin (island) fever?

*Doc Martin(s): this guy was an AWESOME gunslinger in the wild, wild west. For additional research material be sure to watch "tombstone."

**pastors: by pastors I mean the golden gems in our community who guide us through our journey of faith in a way that dignifies us as curious humans who often fall short of acting on the intentions of our heart. These are people who remind us that the meditations of the heart, the yearning for peace around us is not just a fairytale or an afterlife (does it make me thuggy that I really wanted to write crackpipe dream?!) but a real possibility while we are on earth. Well, at least the good ones do it and aid humanity along in its struggle to take just one step forward.

***I have been working with Jay for the past few years. We originally took at group from the University of Ohio to Rabinal, Guatemala to build with Habitat for Humanity's Global Village program. We then took a second group from WCU back to Rabingal with GV. Amazingly, a student, organized a trip the year after the GVtrip, by partnering with one of our translators and working with a program for malnourished children. Needless to say, the town of Rabinal holds a special place in the organizational heart of the Wesley Student Foundation at WCU.