Video from Independence Day

Welcome to the Peace Corps!

It’s official! Today I become a Peace Corps volunteer which is really just the beginning of this 24 month adventure. Overall, training was a success. There were a few afternoons where adjusting to the heat and humidity got the better of me and my brain was off but other than that I feel like I have gained a lot of valuable information. We covered a range of subjects from Vincentian history to corporal punishment and HIV/AIDS. I have become fascinated by the ins and outs of literacy and how to adapt the philosophies to my classroom. It looks like the next two years will be filled with constant research so if anyone has suggestions please send them along! Literacy is a big challenge with most of the primary school students in Layou and I know that I will need a variety of approaches to work with a variety of students. It is exciting to know that I will soon be in the classroom full time and becoming a community member of Layou.

I wanted to take this time to note some of the assumptions that I had prior to coming to St. Vincent and how they all played out. I think the first thing that comes to mind when one thinks of the Peace Corps is living a life in the “bush.” I know that some volunteers really do have that experience but that is not the case in SVG. That’s not to say that we are living at the Ritz but I think the biggest challenges here are more cultural. Here’s a run down of the “creature comforts” that I was worried about:

• Water: Layou’s water is wonderful! The Canadian government actually wanted to bottle it. I can drink it straight from the tap which I consider a blessing.
• Electricity, Hot Showers, etc.: Electricity is readily available at my house but it is expensive. I limit my usage by turning off the power switch on the outlets (wish they had this in the states!) and using a limited amount. Showers are cold and refreshing!
• Food: There is a wide variety of fruits and vegetables available in the market and the grocery stores have many familiar products. The challenge with food is the cost so I am learning where to find bargains and what I can live without.

On the other end of the spectrum there have been some surprising challenges that I would not have expected. What I have learned repeatedly during the first two months is that 1. People are generally friendly and want to connect with you and 2. You cannot control anything but yourself. Don’t be fooled into thinking otherwise. The first lesson has been reinforced over and over again. When I come upon a challenging situation, it is nice to know that I am not alone. My neighbors are wonderful, my home stay was a great experience and everyone is willing to help out when I am lost in town or trying to figure out which bus to catch. They don’t laugh that I don’t know how to do/ eat certain things, they just show me the Vincentian way. Life in SVG is about community, everyone is here to help others out and I feel lucky to be on the receiving end of this charitable attitude. The second lesson has been a challenging one to swallow. I guess I knew that I was not “in control” in the states but I had many illusions to make us think otherwise. If something is not working, you call somebody, it doesn’t matter what day of the week it is and if you need something, you can jump in your car to get it or order it online. If you want to be on time, you go by the schedule. This isn’t really the case in St. Vincent. You learn to take a step back and be patient. Things will work out. My hard drive crashed, it worked out. My neighbor figured out the internet after many frustrated hours of trying on my own. The bus driver recognizes me and pulls me onto the van so that I am not late. I bring a book with me and enjoy the minutes (or hours) before the meeting starts. As they would say down here, “I am getting through.” I am enjoying this learning adventure.

I would like to say a big “Thank you!!!!” to all of my friends and family that have been so supportive through this first two months. Honestly, it would be a much harder experience without all the “cheerleaders” back home. I also have my computer back up and running so you can expect more regular blog updates in the future!

Her Majesty's Prison

I know it sounds like I fell into a time warp and landed myself near the towers of London in the 1800s but alas I am still in St. Vincent. Today was my first trip to Her Majesty’s Prison, an archaic building with a strictly stated dress code painted to the wall; no shirt, no shoes, big problem. The bricks did not line up properly, the top of the walls were armed with barb wire and a big green gate met my good intentions head on. As soon as I arrived, I thought “What in the world are you doing here? Seriously, check your skin, check your gender, check your heart. What makes you so confident that there is a place for you here?” I can’t explain it but I knew facing down those big green gates that I couldn’t turn away so just as friendly as I could, I walked up to the guard to tell them that I was there for a meeting with Miss Samuel, the prison welfare officer. Eyes of disbelief looked back at me and pointed in the direction of the waiting area.

I sat in a room that could best be described as a bus stop in the US. Benches lined the little room where women sat with babies on their laps and tired in their eyes. The ceiling was a mish-mash of plywood and the walls were covered with notices about what could pass through the gate; no cell phones, only two pieces of fruit, small amounts of money to purchase canned cheese through the prison canteen. After 5 minutes, the guard came to the door and called my name. I was met at the gate by Miss Annette Samuel. She was refined, beautiful and not at all what I expected. After a whirlwind tour of the administrative area, we arrived in her office where the wall was painted with a picture of a man at the bottom of a hill with encouraging words, “The rock bottom is a good place to start going up.”

For the next hour, Miss Samuel detailed the prison system in St. Vincent. There are approximately 400 males and 10 females in custody. Many of the inmates have lived in the US, where they committed a crime, were deported and returned to St. Vincent only to commit another crime and end up in Her Majesty’s prison. There is a work program where inmates can learn skills such as tailoring, carpentry, welding and farming. There is a school in the prison but there are not many inmates that choose to participate since they would not be able to participate in the work programs. Miss Samuel is the only welfare officer for all of the prisoners and there are no counselors available to inmates. The road does not get easier for the men and women when they complete their sentences. SVG does not have any halfway house style programs and prisoners are not welcomed back to society. It is not a surprise that many of them return to Her Majesty’s many times.

Despite all of the challenges that Miss Samuel faces on a daily basis, she was amazingly upbeat. She shared stories of prisoners who she had kept in touch with after many years and others who after being released would “walk” with her child to school. I say “walk” because he would stay on the other side of the street, keeping vigilance from a distance so as not to scare or embarrass her but to ensure her safety nonetheless. In these stories, I found a bright ray of hope that she shares with inmates.

Sitting in the peach colored office of Miss Samuel, I realized that I had just met my first Vincentian hero. A woman who truly believes in the goodness of mankind and the ability each of us has to love others. It gets better, I also have signed up to help the prisons with remedial reading and IT classes as soon as I am officially sworn in as a volunteer, so I will continue to learn from this amazing woman and the inmates at Her Majesty’s Prison. We ended our meeting with a prayer which I thought was appropriate as I was feeling especially blessed to be smack dab in the middle of prison on a beautiful, sunny day.

A Vincentian Funeral

Last Monday, a fourth grade student at the Layou Government School passed away. On Tuesday morning, I arrived at school to hear the sad news of the day. Zendi Thomas, eight years old, had fallen on Sunday evening and had hit his head. He was living with his grandmother and she did not realize that the fall had caused serious damage. On Monday, they went to Kingstown to the Milton Cato Memorial Hospital but it was too late. The damage caused initially by the fall was too great and he passed away after visiting hours on Monday evening.

Tuesday morning began with the regular student assembly where the teachers shared the news with the students of their classmate. It was heartbreaking to see the children crying and in shock over their loss. They prayed, sang songs and there were speeches about life and its’ brevity. I am still in my observation period with the school so I was asked to take one of the sixth grade students who was having an especially hard time into my room. Yikes! Grief would be a big challenge without navigating the cultural differences and dialect. I did what first came to mind which was to ask him if he wanted to draw a picture or write a letter to his friend. He said “yes” so I pulled out a piece of paper, colored pencils and a pen. After twenty minutes it looked like he was finishing up so I asked him if he would like to share his letter with me. What followed was the most endearing moment. He read about how much he missed his friend and all of the happy memories they had together; playing football, swimming in Layou and singing their favorite songs. He explained the pictures that he had drawn and how he made Zendi the “#1 football player” since that’s how he would have wanted it. After going through the letter, Ashroy seemed to be doing better so he returned to his classroom. On Tuesday, I learned that the empathy we can have for each other as delicate human beings trumps the cultural divide.

The funeral for Zendi was on Sunday afternoon and boy, what a celebration it was! The service began at 2:30 at the Seventh Day Adventist Church. The building was packed to the gills with family, students from the school and community members. There was singing, bible reading and speeches given to celebrate the life of Zendi. The grandmother sang “Tears in Heaven” as a tribute. There was crying and wailing; it was the sound of broken hearts asking God for help, understanding and peace. After the service, everyone walked up with the casket to the graveyard. The Layou cemetery is at least a mile away from the church up the main road. It was absolutely amazing to see this mass of people walking and singing, celebrating life. It looked like a homecoming parade in a small US town. At the cemetery there was a feel of a festival complete with the sound of trumpets, the laughter of children and the selling of refreshments. I arrived home around 5:45, exhausted and refreshed by my first funeral service in St. Vincent.

Full Speed

Around 2:30pm, I heard screams and laughter coming from the play yard that is connected to the Layou School. I had been working on a visual aid for the first grade teacher and was nearly complete. I could not take it a moment longer and I decided that the poster could wait; I had to check out the yard where the noise was coming from. What I saw next can only be described as unbridled joy.

The fifth graders had their PE/exercise period. They were divided into 2 teams, one side with 23 girls and the other with 2 girls and 21 boys. The teams were lined up, facing each other on opposite sides of a blacktop about the length of a basketball court. They were running relay races. The runner would start by running straight to the other side, behind the other team’s line and then back across the court diagonally to the next person on their team in line. The race created a criss-cross pattern across the blacktop where the runners of opposite teams would nearly run into each other during the final leg of the lap. The children flew! Most of them had taken off their school shoes so they could run faster. I love that the girls were against a team of boys. I cannot help but think of how often, in my experience, the boys are split between teams to make it more “fair.” In Layou, for the afternoon, there were no doubts that the girls could keep pace with the boys. As each child took off, you could see fierce determination in their eyes. There was great camaraderie among the teams and the excitement was palpable. No wonder they love this subject—now only to figure out a way to make reading this exciting!

This has been one of my favorite moments since I arrived. It is great to see children running at full speed, barefoot and so full of life. It makes me curious to know if kids in other parts of the world are the same or if they are ever even given the chance to run with all of their hearts.

Fish Eyes, Ironing and Vincy Aerobics

One morning this past week, I woke up went through my normal routine of getting ready and headed out to breakfast at the Adam’s table. Sitting on the table in front of me was a bowl of fish soup, complete with a whole fish, potatoes, green bananas and broth. Fish eyes stared back at me as if to say “Good Morning! I hope you are ready for another day at school!” Now, I would not consider myself a picky eater but I am not especially keen on bones, skin or eyes for that matter. I guess that I have gotten used to the fish industry in the US that has convinced me that fish is skinless, boneless and eyeless when it comes to your table (or the skin is just on one side and easy to remove). It was one of those small challenges you don’t expect to come across but there it is facing you down at 7am. After taking a deep breath and a big sip of coffee, I went to work on the soup. I scraped every piece of meat off of that fish that I could wrestle free from the bones, skin and eyes. I saved all of my scraps on a separate plate and was relieved to find that a cat happened to be hanging around our yard. My scrapes went straight to the cat and my lack of fish cleaning skills went unnoticed for the day.

Vincentians must be among the best pressed people in the world. On the van to Kingstown in the morning, everyone has on a clean, fresh outfit. Even if it is just a t-shirt, it looks nice. During my first week at the Adam’s house, I had put on clothes to go to training and Florence simply told me that I was not allowed to leave the house without pressing my clothes first. I tried to convince her otherwise by stretching the shirt and showing how once I tied it up, it would look better but there was no chance. I was to join in the ranks with the Vincentians and become clean pressed. Since that day, I have decided that Sundays are my ironing day. After church, I pick out the five outfits that I will wear for the week and then get to work on ironing. It is hot work in the midday heat with only a fan blowing a bit of relief. It usually takes an hour for me to complete the chore and I am always sweat drenched by the end but it feels good to know that Florence is proud of me when I walk out of the house in the morning. Her Peace Corps is no creasy!

This past week, I was invited to attend aerobics with Florence’s sister, Edna. After a day at the Layou Government School, I hoped on a van to town to meet her at her office. Aerobics are held at the Peace Memorial Hall in a room that serves as a reception area for the concerts and recitals hosted in the auditorium. The class had four participants; myself, Edna, the former principal of Layou Government School who is now retired and a woman who appeared to be in her late sixties. The instructor, a man in his fifties, had been in a terrible car accident that left one of his legs permanently damaged. I had been nervous that the class might be too hard but after assessing the situation, I felt like it might be more like low-impact aerobics which would be much easier to follow. Boy howdy, I was wrong! The first twenty minutes of class were spent Shaking- Your-Booty. My bum went in every direction possible at the fastest pace possible for the next twenty minutes. All of those women were naturals! They could spin, shake, thrust and move those hips in all different directions. After the first twenty minutes, we grabbed “weights” that had been created by putting sand into Gatorade bottles, and did twenty minutes of non-stop lifting. “Squat deeper, lift higher, don’t stop!” yelled the instructor. I could feel the burn. We finished up the class with twenty minutes of sit-ups and Pilates style stretching. The next day, I could feel it all and it made me smile. Just goes to show that assumptions are usually wrong. I can’t wait to go this week. I figure after two years of this class my hips will be able to move like a local Vincentian!

Picture of the Beautiful Layou Waterfront

“Layou is a good place to be. Good, good, good, good!” - Mrs. Florence Adams

There always seems to be a sign from the universe when I have landed myself in the right place. I sat in the Peace Corps office in Kingstown, St. Vincent, anxiously waiting for my host family to arrive. A woman stepped into the office, “Sarah!” she hollered. I jumped up, “It’s me!” I said and grabbed my stuff. As soon as I was within arm’s reach, Mrs. Florence Adams, my new host mother, gave me a hearty, sincere hug. Having come from a hugging family, it was just about the best welcome to St.Vincent that I could have hoped for! The universe was letting me know I had landed myself exactly where I needed to be for the next two years.
During training, I will be living with the Adams family. Florence, my host mother, is a dynamic, talkative Vincentian. She owns a lotto shop in Layou and has graciously allowed me to spend many hours hanging around the shop getting to know the lay of the land and starting the rumor that there is a new “whitey” in town. Richard, my host father, is gentle, kind and quiet. He works at Y De Lima, a variety store, in Kingstown. He has the greatest grin when I tell him that I might be knocking on his door after I move out because I will not be able to figure out how to cook breadfruit or make anything tasty out of green figs (green bananas). Justlyn, my host sister, stays with the Adams during the school year so she can attend secondary school in Kingstown. She is everything you would hope for in a 15 year old girl. She is so bright and has an opinion about everything. She loves fashion and wants to be a lawyer/psychologist, though as she explains it there is not much demand here for psychology because Vincentians have not caught on to its usefulness. Like my real sister Jenny, Justlyn is wise beyond her years.
My host family is most direct link I have to my new community. Living with a host family is an important part of the Peace Corps experience because they want us to integrate into our community so that we can work at a grassroots level, learning from the locals and working in harmony with them to create the change that they wish to see for their community. Miss Florence always introduces me as her “Peace Corps” and has shown me around to the morning bathers at the beach (retirees), shop keepers, Methodist church and pretty much every person we meet while walking down the road. They have also taught me how to wash all of my clothes by hand, iron properly and make awesome banana pie, where you use green bananas to create a casserole that can be best described as a cross between baked macaroni, squash and mashed potatoes! They have also helped me pick up on the dialect but I still feel like I am in a foreign land most of the time. It just goes to show how many different twists and turns a language can take.
Here are a few pictures to capture my first week in Layou:

1. Justlyn, Florence and I outside of the Methodist Church in Kingstown where we attended an Induction Service for the new minister in our circuit.

2. Sunday dinner! Amazing! Clockwise from the top: Chicken, Tomato, Cucumber, Carrot/ Cabbage Salad, Steam Vegetables, Kidney Beans, Steamed Sweet Potato (they are white inside but taste similar to the variety most common in the US) and Plantain, Pumpkin and in the middle Banana Pie!