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.