So it's been about 3 weeks since I left my island home of St. Lucia. Leaving proved to be one of the most difficult partings I've had. Despite living away from family and friends for 2 years and facing many challenges of volunteering in a developing country, St. Lucia had become my home. I don't think I fully realized this until just before leaving. After leaving, I flew back to Florida for a night, shipped suitcases home, and immediately set off again on a traveling adventure with 4 other Peace Corps Volunteers from St. Lucia. It's been fun traveling through Central America so far, and I am thankful for the chance to make the transition back to life away from the Peace Corps with fellow Volunteers who are experiencing a similar range of emotions. So far we've been through Guatemala, El Salvador, Honduras (very quickly, I might add), and are now in Nicaragua. Some of the highlights have included:

-Climbing Pacaya Volcano in Guatemala and coming within 15 feet of flowing hot magma!

-Swimming through a cave to an underground waterfall by candlelight

-Sledding down a Volcano at speeds up to 51km per hour and subsequently crashing close to the bottom

-Swimming in natural pools forming a bridge over a river at Semuc Champey

One of my experiences was a bit less crazy as those listed above, yet perhaps even more memorable. I wrote up a little story about it and pasted it below. Hope you enjoy it...

On any trip of sizeable length that involves frequent movement from

place to place, multiple living accommodations, and above all an

unwavering devotion to the pursuit of that which is cheap, one

inevitably will encounter a destination that’s, well, more or less a

dud, just a bottom of the barrel dump. My Peace Corps Volunteer

friend Sam and I discovered such a rare gem after splitting from our

other 3 beach-bumming friends to check out Lake Coatepeque and climb

Volcan Izalco at Cerro Verde National Park in El Salvador. Sam had

heard from a Peace Corps Volunteer friend that had previously served

in El Salvador that the place to stay on the Lake is a hostel called

Amacuilco. Despite the fact that the most recent version of Lonely

Planet Guidebook to Central America deviated significantly from Sam’s

friend’s recommendation, describing the place as “wretched and

ramshackle,” “haunted,” with “complaints of theft,” we decided to go

ahead and reserve our room at paradise anyway, as it was not

surprisingly the cheapest place on the lake to stay at $10 US a night

(still steep compared to our usual standard of $4-$5).

As we explored our newfound home, we began to see why the Lonely

Planet Guidebook, otherwise known as the “Bible of travel guides,” is

such a reliable source the vast majority of the time. Apparently the

fact that we were the only two lucky occupants wasn’t indication

enough. The stairs to our room shook as we ascended and the door knob

had obviously been turned one too many times, as the El Salvadorian

owner explained in Spanish that she would provide us with a lock and

key to supplement it. The room had sort of exotic jungle motif going

for it, vines creeping in through the dusty windows, spider webs

slowly possessing certain areas, and dead insects caught in the

tetters of an old mosquito net. Surprisingly, the room contained 3

beds. Not surprisingly, however, the first bed evidenced age through

various lumps caused by springs popping up through the quasi-mattress

of sorts.

As we headed down to the dock we discovered the pool, just slightly

short of empty save for 3 inches of old, dirty rainwater that had

collected at the bottom. Though a “no diving” sign wasn’t posted, I

gathered that it wasn’t a real feasible option. The footpath to the

dock was made up of broken tile pieces in an eye-capturing design, but

it abruptly stopped, with a large heap of abandoned remaining tile

pieces evident off to the side. A distant gaze of the lake proved

beautiful, but a closer inspection of the immediate area revealed a

comprehensive layer of plastic potato chip bags and other assorted

trash covering the bottom.

While waiting for lunch to be cooked, which took a decent couple of

hours considering chickens had to be caught and killed, we quickly

glanced through a dirty old travel magazine of Honduras from 1992, and

disappointingly stumbled upon a fooseball table partially filled with

water and about as level as the state of Colorado. At this point,

Sam wisely pointed out, “I bet that this place was real nice at one

point…just about ten years ago. Finally, we noticed that the place

next door was quite filled with people, the majority most likely

wealthy El Salvadorians on holiday. “Eben bon,” I exclaimed. “We

should have stayed over there. How much are the rooms there according

to the guidebook?” “About $10 US more,” Sam replied. “Tempting.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “But we’re paying too much here as it is.”

Later, after taking a nap, we went back to the dock to consider a

swim. Ultimately, however, the combination of tiredness from the

previous night of no sleep (3:15 wake-up for bus) and the abundance of

trash led us to decide against a quick dip. As we sat on a lakeside

bench relaxing, the owner came out and started resolutely stomping on

the boards, shaking the dock and laughing all the while. I turned to

Sam and puzzled, asked, “Is she finding the instability of the dock

humorous?” Just then, the short yet stout woman raiser her right leg

as high as an El Salvadorian woman can, paused, and thrust it

powerfully onto the dock. This proved to be the fatal death blow, as

the board went crashing from beneath her and her entire right leg

plummeted through the newly formed hole. Startled, yet still howling

with laughter, she pulled herself up and scurried away. “Is that

sufficient justification to demand our $20 back and find another

place?” I jokingly asked Sam. “Eh, whatever,” Sam replied. “Yeah, I

agree,” I responded. “This place has a real rustic feel to it.” “For

sure,” Sam concurred. “Rustic with a capital R.”

The situation didn’t improve much later. After dining alone in an

enormous, practically deserted restaurant/hostel, we struggled to get

back into the hostel after being locked out, ultimately resorting to

holding the buzzer down for a solid 30 seconds to draw sufficient

attention from the owner, who had probably been nursing a bad leg.

Later that night, as we both read in our beds, a strong wind came and

thrust open one of the not so securely latched windows. “Well that’s

comforting,” I spatted sarcastically. “If someone jumps through there

in the middle of the night I doubt that I’ll be too pleased.” “This

place is haunted,” Sam added. “Yeah,” I agreed, “with a Psycho-esque

feel to it.

Fortunately for us, we were not visited in the night by a masked

thief, robbed, nor stabbed in the head by the thick, jolly,

dock-destroying El Salvadorian firecracker. In fact, we stayed

another night and even recruited our Israeli hiker friend we met

climbing Volcan Izalco to join us. His initial attempt at asserting a

positive perception of the hostel (“I don’t mind the springs at

all…pretty comfortable bed”) was tempered by his mid-shower water

outage and subsequent less than successful attempt at completing

bathing in the trash infested lake.

While paying an extra $10 to hop next door would most likely have

granted us a much more comfortable experience, it’s the leaky faucets,

particularly those that necessitate deliberate and repeated

child-proof Tylenol bottle opening push and twist tactics to turn off,

and other life experiences of initial inconvenience and frustration,

that in some twisted way occupy the most treasured parts of our

memories and ultimately, in many ways, can come to mean so much more.

So I wrote this blog entry in my journal quite a long time ago and started by saying that it would most likely be my last blog entry here in St. Lucia, and now I can say that definitively as I’m scheduled to leave in 3 days.

It’s been a busy summer and seems to be getting busier (obviously, as it has taken 3 weeks to transfer this entry from journal to computer) as I’m trying to wrap up some projects and put certain measures in place to hopefully ensure that other projects continue smoothly in my absence. Also, thrown in the mix is completing Peace Corps paperwork, cleaning my not so spotless house, and trying to do a bunch of fn things with friends before leaving September 10th. Though its been a bit hectic, I prefer something to do over nothing at all, so I really can’t complain. The first 3 weeks of this summer were spent helping facilitate a bunch of summer camps. Like last year, I worked a fellow PCV to conduct a tennis camp. Fortunately we had a bit more help coaching this year. In between the tennis camp, I also helped with a youth camp for kids in my community. It was a bit haphazard and thrown together, but like most activities here, it somehow came together and the kids seemed to enjoy themselves. The last camp I assisted with was a summer youth development “Leadership through Sports and Service” camp that my friend Jen, a Volunteer in Soufriere, was organizing with a community youth group.

As I’m nearing the end of my service, I’m realizing that I don’t have man pictures, if any , of some of the people with whom I see on a regular basis in my immediate community. I’ve been trying to get a few more pictures of my neighbors, therefore, before I leave. Though this seems like simple enough a task, in some instances has seemed more difficult than Calculus 2 in college with Professor Olinick. Blast! For example, there’s a sweet little old lady who lives just higher up my house named Mary, husband Joseph, but surprisingly no carpenter son. She calls me “my darling,” “my love,” or “koko” (common affectionate nickname here) and nearly every time I pass she asks how I’m doing…twice. It goes something like this:

Ben: Good Afternoon, Mary!

Mary: Good afternoon, my darling. How are you?

Ben: I’m doing great, thanks. How about yourself?

Mary: I’m fine and how are you?

Ben: I’m good (not much has changed)

She also really loves it that I enjoy speaking Patois and is always up for conversing in it. So, she’s obviously on my list of people I would like to get a picture of before leaving. Unfortunately, however, every time I have a conversation with her about this we end up in the same place (even now, 3 weeks later)

Ben: Hey, I was wondering if I could get a picture with you before I leave to take back to the States and remember you by.

Mary: Eh, eh, koko. You want a picture of me?

Me: Yes, of course.

Mary: Oh, that’s nice. Anytime, anytime, my darling. But not today. My hair is looking a kind of way.

Me. Eh, eh, don’t be silly. You look great.

Mary: No. Look at it. I would need to fix myself properly.

Me: Alright, no problem. I’ll check you later about it then.

Mary: Of course. Yes, anytime is good. Anytime, but not today.

So I’ve had nearly the exact same conversation with Mary several times and always get the same reply of “anytime, anytime is good, but not today.” I’ve even tried to book a day in advance, but that doesn’t seem to be a fruitful venture either. ☺ Personally I would best like a picture of her as I know her, twisted hair and all. Sometime when people dress up here you can hardly recognize the person anymore as they might be wearing a wig, big hat, and who knows what else. I once thought I thought my host mom was taking me on a bank heist one morning instead of church…no joke. Oh, and a little update…the picture with Mary never worked out…will have to burn the mental image.

So, I’ve had some interesting/humorous conversations with kids here about the complexion of my skin. I recently bought some island sandals with bright Rasta colors (red, green, and gold) as my other sandals bit the dust after two years of faithful service. While I have gotten a bit less white in complexion,(I’m still not sure “tan” or “darker” would entirely be accurate, so we’ll refrain from those terms), my feet have remained as white as snow. Now that I’ve got my stylish, shockingly bright Rasta slippers, which have minimal coverage, the whiteness of my feet is accentuated to the nth degree. It’s kind of funny looking, and I’ve definitely got some interesting comments, but I could care less. I had a funny interchange with a 5 year girl a few days ago.

Little Girl: What’s your name?

Me: Ben. What’ yours?

Little Girl: Kiana

Me: How are you, Kiana?

Kiana: Fine. What happened to your feet?

Me: What do you mean?

Kiana: Huh?

Me: Why do you ask that?

Kiana: The’re white

I also fielded an interesting comment in my 4th grade recorder class a few months back that cracked me up. I was in the middle of teaching the recorder, having just recently established that I want seriousness for the remainder of the class, when one of the precocious ones, Phoebe, raises her hand. After calling on her, she boldly asked, “Mr. Wiechman…how come you so white?” I couldn’t help but laugh, and told her, as we had already gotten off topic a number of times, that we would have to discuss that later. In conversations with the other teachers about it, I was informed that I should have responded, “Phoebe, well how come you so black?” Kids really are curious about differences in appearance and certainly don’t have any reservations in making their observations or queries known. Good for them.

Jenny Schneider, this section is for you. As my close of service is soon approaching, I’ve had to undergo a number of medical examinations to ensure that I’m as healthy going out as I was coming in. One of these medical tests required that I deliver 3 consecutive stool samples to the lab to have examined parasites or any other friendly critter. So we weren’t given much information as to how this was exactly to be done, where exactly to take the samples, etc. So one day I called my medical director to find out more information. She told me the place to take the samples and advised me to go ahead and bring up the samples I come up to Castries. So with this info I assumed (you know that they say about assumptions) that I had to simply transport a few terds to Castries using whatever means, methodology, I deem fitting. So, after much careful forethought and planning (similar to the process of deciding to recycle mice glue traps), I solidified my collection methodology and the rest of the plan. I’ll spare you the details here. After wondering what to put to store the samples in , I decided to use a 1 kg Sunflower Margarine container, tinged with the light red stain of Del Monte pasta sauce. As my first sample was relatively petite, I decided not to waste containers but rather double down and store the 2nd sample in the butter tub as well, even though it was significantly larger than the first. I couldn’t produce a 3rd sample before going up to Castries (though the 2nd sample might have arguably counted double), as I had been enjoying the mango season to the full earlier in the week and was having some consistency issues. So, I traveled to Castries with my butter tug in a black plastic bag full of deliverables to drop for the doctor. Shortly after entering the doctors’ office, another PCV coincidentally enters, and after greeting me, tells the secretary that he’s here to collect the containers needed for his stool samples. I turn to him and surprisingly say, “eh eh? They have special containers for them?” He replied, “yeah, we’re supposed to collect the containers first to use for the samples.” Just then, the secretary whips out 3 containers, each no larger than a tiny restaurant sauce cup of BBQ sauce. Beginning to laugh, I turn to my friend and tell him, “I brought my samples together in an old butter tub and one of them is about 5 times the size of one of those containers. Shortly thereafter, the doctor emerged. Still laughing, I explained the misunderstanding to the doctor (except for the tid bit about the size of my 2nd deliverable) and asked him whether or not that will be ok. He paused, took the container from me, which was beginning to emit a foul odor, most likely due to the size of sample number 2, and replied, “well, it’s not ideal, but we’ll see if we can work with what we’ve got.” Little did he know the nature of the surprise awaiting within.

I’m starting to really process the fact that I’m leaving very soon now that I’m saying goodbye to people, doing certain things for the last time, etc. It’s been an interesting ride. I’ve honestly been looking forward to the completion of my service for a few months, as it’ll be nice to get off the rollercoaster, travel for a bit, and finally reconnect with family/friends, but now that the end is staring me in the face, I feel sad and a bit confused about the range of emotions I’m experiencing. I think that even though St. Lucia has come with its fair share of challenges, nothing can change that I’ve lived her for two years and it has certainly become a home.

I'm not sure how much internet access I will have while traveling in Central America, but I'll try and post a time or two about the trip. But for now, take care, and God bless.

I am pleased to report that the composting project proposal that I have been working with a local farmers’ co-operative on for the past year and a half was finally submitted and fully funded by the United Nations! After continually having run into speed-bump after speed-bump, and experiencing a near red-tape mummification associated with trying to get money from international donors, it was becoming increasingly difficult not to think that I would leave here in September not having accomplished anything tangible with the co-op. God is faithful, however, and has his own perfect timing. The project will take place over the course of 2 years and construct 24 wind-row aerated compost pits at the co-operative, co-operative members’ farms, and at 9 schools. Kitchen waste will be collected from area hotels and paper waste will be collected from schools to provide some of the raw materials needed to sustain the pits. We also plan to conduct educational initiatives with schools and farmers to inform the public about the environmental benefits of composting. Even though it’s a shame that I won’t be around for much of the project’s implementation, I feel blessed to have been able to help the co-operative at least secure the funding.

The 4th of July was a couple of days ago and to celebrate, our Peace Corps Country Director had us over to her house for a barbecue. The 2nd Eastern Caribbean group to serve on St. Lucia (back in the 1960’s) was having a reunion on St. Lucia and joined us at the party. It was fascinating to hear about their experiences and about all the change that has happened in St. Lucia over the past 30 odd years. For example, the fact that it used to take 2 full days to get around the island rather than 3-4 hours. Or, that Pigeon Point, which is now connected to St. Lucia, used to be an island. One of the EC2 return volunteers expressed that “it’s hard not to feel old when geographic landmarks have changed during the course of your lifetime.” One of the volunteers also grew up in Vermont and lives about 15 minutes away from Middlebury. Peculiar…

So as my time is wrapping up I’m starting to think about what life post Peace Corps will look like. Besides teasing with the idea of applying to be a Peace Corps recruiter, I honestly don’t have much of a clue, so throw those suggestions at me. I do know one thing though. Before heading back home, I am going traveling with a few other Peace Corps Volunteers to Central America for about a month. First stop, Honduras. With the coup and everything plane tickets are dirt cheap, so we’ve got to capitalize. Sorry mom…bad joke. We’re still working out all the details, but we’re planning on starting out in Guatemala, hitting El Salvador and Nicaragua, and ending up in Costa Rica where we’ll meet up with a couple other volunteers, one of whom has a sister living there. I then plan to fly back to Middlebury in early October to visit some friends, and drop down to Boston and NYC as well before heading back to Kansas sometime in mid to late October. So, if you live in any of these places, let me know so I can hunt you down! After traveling I’m looking forward to heading back home to reconnect with my family, which seems to be pretty busy while I’m away. Cousins/friends getting married, babies on the way, and my brother’s engagement within the last week, which I couldn’t be more thrilled to hear. CONGRATS!!!

After roughly 2 weeks of striking, the civil service unions and the government have finally reached a compromise. Teachers were out of school during the strike, while nurses, fireman, and some policemen were on a “go slow.” Firemen had to be brought in from neighboring islands in order to keep the airports open and national exams for a number of primary school students were cancelled. Fortunately, however, everything is back to normal now.

So I’ve finally put up my mosquito net in my bedroom…3 months before the end of my service. What’s the use at this point, you might ask? Wouldn’t you have crossed that off the to-do list within the 1st month or two? Well, I could jokingly defend my lack of action as my own unique attempt at cultural integration, as things oftentimes find a way of getting put on the backburner here (“just now”), but that wouldn’t altogether be true. In fact, for the first ½ year I had a fan, which prohibited mosquitoes from bothering me too much. Then, my parents came, so in trying to make them feel as comfortable as possible, I put the net up in the guest room. While I ultimately proved successful in this endeavor, the process of hanging the net was about as easy as eating Halloween candy with a sense of restraint and self-control. Needless to say, it was not a process I wished to repeat. Just after my parents left, the fan went kaputt. I decided not to buy a new one as it was the “colder” (yeah, right) time of the year and wasn’t essential. Then, upon realizing how much cheaper my power bill was having not had a fan, I vowed never to buy another one. Strangely enough, the mosquitoes didn’t give me too much trouble for that year following. At present, however, they’re determined to make up for lost time and are attacking at full force. I couldn’t sleep well at nights because of the incessant buzzing in my ears. I would even try to position myself so my entire body was covered, excluding a small hole for air, but they still managed to successfully be a nuisance. So, in the end, 2 years into my Peace Corps service, I decided it was high time to hang the mosquito net in my room. While my nights are now peaceful and undisturbed, my days remain spent wildly running around my house clapping my hands enough to make a passerby think a fireworks show was happening inside.

MaPego, my landlord and former host mom, once again gave me something to laugh about. She came up to me after a funeral service and informed me, with a sense of unaffected, calculated determinedness, that she wanted me to do her a favor. The conversation went something like this.

MaPego: Ben!

Ben: Yeah, MaPego. What’s up?

MaPego: I’m alright. Let me tell you that.

Ben: What’s that?

MaPego: (resolutely; to the point) I want you to come to the garden and take out my picture of me and the flowers, so that when I die, they can put a nice picture in the program.

Ben: (taken aback, but somehow not terribly surprised) No problem. Anytime.

The favor she asked wasn’t in and of itself what struck me as so funny, but rather the matter-of-fact manner in which she asked it.

My good friend, Alison Duquette, recently came for a short visit. It was great to see her and catch up on post-college life. Her trip was very short, so we weren’t able to see everything, but we squeezed just about as much as we could in. Having the chance to reunite with a good friend makes me look forward to reconnecting with friends once I return to the States.

I just recently got back from the close of service (COS) conference. All the volunteers in my Eastern Caribbean class (EC77) came together for 3 days to be briefed on all the medical and administrative forms we have to fill out before our service ends, as well as discuss wrapping up our time and the process of reintegrating to life back in the States. It was nice to see all the other volunteers from other islands again and I particularly enjoyed our Peace Corps Olympics competition. We had a variety of competitions including swimming, Frisbee, geography bee, chess, eating, and, of course, staring. It was a close race, but fortunately St. Lucia emerged victorious. :) The conference really put it in perspective that the end of my time here in St. Lucia is fast approaching. I’m ambivalent about this, but think that I’ll be ready when the time comes.

In the work world, the farmers’ co-operative I’ve been working with has submitted our composting proposal and should be receiving funding sometime soon. I’m also collaborating with a Japanese Volunteer to facilitate a recorder workshop at the primary school to teach the teachers how to play the recorder and have a solid understanding of music theory.

I have a bit of sad news. My dog, Mr. Bojangles a.k.a Bo, recently died. As would occasionally happen from time to time but never cause much of a problem, his chain came unhooked one night. Usually if this happened he would come back by himself or a neighbor would come and tell me he/she saw him wandering around. This time, however, when I woke up the next morning I couldn’t find him. After asking around, a couple of my neighbors helped me look for him. We eventually found him next to the drain in front of my house, his jaw clenched close with grass inside of it. He apparently must have eaten some rat poison and was eating the grass to try and vomit it up. My neighbors helped me bury him under my grapefruit tree, which I’m grateful for. It was difficult to do, and he is missed, but I’m thankful to have had his company during the majority of my time down here. I couldn’t help but smile and think it a bit coincidental that a couple days after Bo died, the Obama family named their new dog Bo. A friend of mine jokingly said that he must have been reincarnated. I initially said that he must not have improved much in terms of his behavior from his previous life, as he didn’t come back as something better than a dog. But then again, if it is him, he is now living a life of doggy luxury in the White House, so he must have gotten something right, eh?

I’m still killing cockroaches like it’s a part-time job, but sometimes apathy takes over and I adopt the “in sight, out of mind” mentality. After all, if my neighbors all report the same problems despite spraying endless amounts of insecticide spray, what’s the use? The new development, however, is the sound of scampering coming from between the inside of my roof and the galvanized outer bit. At night I’ll occasionally hear feet pitter-patting around followed by a thud, as whatever it is running around bumps into the wall. I guess it must be a rat/mouse or something of the sort, but as I walk around my house I see absolutely no point of entry, which leaves me baffled as to how the little putz got in there. In the end, I honestly could care less whether it lives up there rent-free. As long as it doesn’t find it’s way downstairs, or worse yet decide to kick the can up there, we’re good to go. Too bad you already booked your plane ticket, Alison! Ha! :)

Several months ago the government promised the teachers a pay raise, a chunk of which was to take effect the end of this month. Given the economic crisis and absence of projected growth, the government has recently asked the teachers for deferral of their pay raise. Last Monday was supposed to be the first day back at school after Easter break, but the teachers’ union called a special meeting with the Ministry of Education to demand their promised money. The Union and the Government weren’t able to reach a compromise, so as the teachers did not receive their pay increase due on Wednesday, they went on strike Thursday and Friday. Today (Monday) the Union is calling another meeting with Government, so hopefully they will be able to reach a compromise so school can resume tomorrow. I can understand where both sides are coming from. We’ll see what happens.

Japan has an overseas volunteer organization equivalent to Peace Corps that is also in St. Lucia. One of the Japanese volunteers who recently finished her service worked at a home for senior citizens and disabled persons in Soufriere. She plays the piano, and put on a farewell concert for the people at the home. Another Japanese volunteer and myself joined her, playing the recorder and the violin. A couple of nights before the concert Emi (the Japanese volunteer) called to tell me that they would be wearing traditional Japanese clothes and were wondering whether I would also like to dress in Japanese attire. Sure, why the heck not? After all, how many chances does an American get to play traditional Creole songs with a couple of Japanese people for St. Lucian senior citizens, all while wearing a kimono? Check.

On February 22nd, St. Lucia celebrated its 30th anniversary as an independent nation. Like last year, Fond St. Jacques held a wide range of fun traditional activities as well as different sporting events. Fortunately this year the activities were a bit better organized and less stressful to plan. Unlike last year, when my friend and I took the monkey (actually, more realistically a gorilla) on our backs and weren’t very successful in recruiting help along the way, this year the Youth and Sports Club we had formed last year collectively took on the task. Even though the arrangements still proved to be a bit hectic and stressful at times, it was much more manageable this year with more hands on deck. This year we had an 8 person relay marathon, a football competition, and a day of fun activities (sprints, sack & 3-legged races, lime & spoon, endurance contest, etc.) which culminated with the greasy pole and pig extravaganzas. The greasy pole contest was particularly fun to watch this year, as the pole was a bit taller and took a solid hour plus to successfully summit. Time after time a group of guys would get ½ to ¾ of the way up in quest to attain the prized cash and bottle of rum, only to come crashing down to the cheers and jeers of spectators. The greasy pig catch was a bit anti-climactic, because upon its release, the pig slowly turned and walked in the opposite direction of the mass of people sprinting after it. It was therefore oblivious to the fact that a mob of pork-eating fiends (including myself) were barreling down upon it, and that running might have been the appropriate course of action. In the end, a big mass of people piled atop the poor creature, very much like a fumble in football (except in this case, they were grabbing for a live pig skin).

So I recently turned 24 and had a birthday unlike any other. It started off pretty normally. I took the morning off and went to a fellow PCV’s house to hang out, watch a movie, and eat lunch. As there was a funeral in Fond St. Jacques that afternoon to attend, and I’m not one that is typically fond of crazy parties with lots of people, I didn’t have any big birthday plans for after the funeral besides having my best friend from St. Lucia over for dinner. As I went to the funeral to play my violin with the church choir, things started to take a few twists and turns. During the funeral service, one of the teachers at the school who’s part of the church choir quietly said to me, “mwen ka vini a kay ou oswe-a pou manje ek ni a bon tan” (I am coming at your home tonight to eat and have a good time). As the funeral service was just starting I didn’t properly respond but just chuckled a bit, all the while wondering if she was serious or just giving me a joke. Had my friend invited her over for dinner without telling me, or had he told her and she was just pulling my leg? Things got even more interesting after the service finished. The burial site of the deceased was about an hour’s drive away in Vieux Fort, and I originally intended on just attending the service itself and not going to the gravesite. As I left the church to check my friend about coming over for dinner, I saw that he was in the back of the choir bus that would soon be heading to the gravesite. As I approached the bus, which just so happened to be full of people that I know from the choir, my friend told me that he invited a mutual friend (not the one mentioned earlier) to come over as well. A few other people then said that they’d be coming as well. My best pal then asked whether I’d had a chance to get some drinks and stuff in town for later. Slightly confused, I responded that I had been in town earlier and had gotten a couple of things for dinner, but that I didn’t have much of anything substantial at my house to have a party perse. He then asked whether I would have a chance to go back into town and get some things for later. Now here’s when my mind started to send up little red flags and had just a tad bit of trouble understanding what was going on. I couldn’t be sure, but it seemed as though I was nearly being thrown into the position of preparing everything for a birthday party which I essentially didn’t expect, plan for, or even in the least bit want to have. Hmmm….as a bus full of people, some of whom potentially could be invading my house in hopes of Ben’s Birthday Bash 2009, quietly sat, I searched, and searched, and searched some more for an appropriate response. Finally, I replied with, “well…I was actually going to head down to the gravesite since the whole choir is going.” Doesn’t it seem a bit strange that someone (who just so happens to be me) would go as far as to see a burial just to avoid planning a joyful celebration of his or her own life? Oh, the irony of it all. Upon returning to Fond St. Jacques, I explained to my friend that I didn’t really expect or plan to have a lot of people at my house, and that I didn’t feel like going to town last minute to rush and arrange things. Fortunately, he had already put 2 and 2 together, told me not to worry, and went to town himself to shop. More fortunately still, nobody else ended up coming over and I was allowed to have a quiet evening, largely I suspect because people were otherwise engaged at the funeral “after-party” of sorts.

In comparison to the United States, roles are sometimes reversed in St. Lucia when it comes to certain social occasions and celebrations. I mentioned a bit about it in my last blog post how this manifests itself at funerals, and as you can see, a similar trend carries through for birthdays. Except when you’re a child, if it’s your birthday and you’re celebrating it, you are expected to do so by throwing a party for everybody else. So, for example, instead of your friends taking you out for a birthday dinner, you would be expected to provide food and drink for all your friends. Fortunately I was able to get out of it. After all, it’s my party and I can not have it if I don’t want to.

So, at one point during my time here in St. Lucia I had a little problem with mice in my house. As most of you know, I gracefully took care of it. Then they came back. Once again, I was able to remedy the problem (with a little more grace, if that’s even possible). No, they have not returned to discover if the 3rd time’s a charm with respect to permanently moving into my pretty, pink little abode. A new breed of infestation, however, has decided to storm my residence. Cockroaches. The troublesome little pests have invaded with full force, and given that there are dozens of easy access entrances into my house, it has been impossible to completely exterminate them. They also seem to have built up immunity against the insecticide spray, as I still occasionally find them in my utensil drawer, even after taking out all the drawers and spraying tons of poison into the dark abyss found behind them. And now little ones have appeared. Wonderful…

One day as I opened the cabinet under my kitchen sink to grab food for Mr. Bojangles, I couldn’t help but notice that there were approximately 15-20 roaches inside the nearly full bag of dog food. Grrrrreat. What to do? Do I force myself to believe it was only a figment of my imagination and move on? Do I throw the entire bag of perfectly good dog food out? Do I take the insecticide and spray the whole cockroach clan along with the dog food? While option 1 is convenient, I’m a realist. Those are definitely real roaches. Dog food is expensive, and I’m cheap, so that eliminates option 2. Wait a second, you must be thinking. Wouldn’t spraying insecticide all over a bag of dog food imply that one would then be obligated to dispose of the poisoned food? Well, evidently not in my twisted mind. I started to contemplate about the nature and purpose of cockroach insecticide spray. Would it really prove that much of a health hazard to Bo? After all, it’s designed to kill small crawling insects, and Bo is quite a bit larger than them (though it is arguable that, left to their own devices, some of the roaches would soon be of comparable size to Bo). So yep, you guessed it. I decided to put Mr. Bojangle’s life in jeopardy to save about 45EC dollars (18US). I sprayed the insecticide inside the bag as if I were a 16 year old girl trying to get her hair to stay just right for prom, sealed the bag, and listened to the sound of scurrying cockroach feet helplessly trying to escape their death chamber. After 20 minutes of marinating, it’s dinner time for Bo! Before you all go calling PETA on me, I did ultimately decide to dispose of the top layer of dog food directly affected by the spray before feeding Bo a helping of nutritious Trail Blazer dog food. And yes, in case you were wondering, Mr. Bojangles is still alive and well. In fact, he’s stronger than ever. You know what they say…

I’ve posted a few interesting conversations I’ve had with my host mom from training. Well, here’s another classic one that happened to be over the phone.

Ben: Hello, good afternoon MaPego. How are you?

MaPego: I’m good. How are you?

Ben: Good.

MaPego: Ok, that’s good. I haven’t seen you for a few days and I noticed that you’ve had a towel out on the line all week.

Ben: (laughing to myself) Oh yeah. I had accidentally left it wet in my bag overnight and didn’t want it to smell up my house, so I decided to leave it there until I do laundry again.

MaPego: Oh, ok. You know, I just wanted to check and see that everything was ok. As long as you’re alright.

Ben: Yeah, I’m great. Thanks for checking in. I’ll drop by and see you sometime soon. Take care.

MaPego: Ok, you too. Bye.

Strangely enough, I knew that my dirty towel that had been permanently chillin’ on the line would make it way into a conversation at one point or another. lol

Funerals in St. Lucia are very different than those back in the States. I’ve been to a few since I’ve been here, but recently my Fond St. Jacques supervisor’s mother-in-law passed away and my experience at the funeral really struck me. I would describe funerals here as more of a celebration of life than a mournful time of sadness. After the funeral I rode down to the cemetery with the church choir. Along the way, we joyously sang praise songs as if on the way to a youth revival or summer camp. Many songs were also sung in a lively fashion at the grave site. Later on that night at the reception, people generously drank, ate, danced, and sang. Somehow I wondered whether I was at a funeral or I had missed the memo and a wedding had actually occurred. While it was a very surreal experience, and made me feel somewhat strange given the funeral tradition I’m used to, it was interesting to look at funerals from a different perspective that emphasizes rejoicing in life rather than mourning death.

The other aspect of funerals that differs from those in the States is that the grieving family is expected to throw a big party in honor of the deceased. This seemed strange to me, as I would think that since the family is coping with the loss and arranging so many things for the funeral itself that others would take care of bringing food and drinks for the party, if there were to be a party at all. As I sat with the choir upstairs in my supervisor’s home, I was taken aback by the fact that the only daughter of the deceased was frantically running around and stressed out, making sure everyone had enough drinks, food, etc. In my mind I was thinking that she should be seated and resting herself after having just buried her mother. In talking with my supervisor, I learned that this expectation that the family takes on the responsibility of throwing a party for the deceased is tied to traditions of times past. Back when there wasn’t the convenience of a funeral home to take care of preserving the body, providing the coffin, etc. people from the community would come together at the home of the deceased the very night of the death and work through the night to help take care of everything that needed to be done (building the coffin, arranging flowers, etc.). The family would provide food and drinks for the workers to keep them going, and jokes and stories would also be told to keep people lively and awake. Even though funeral homes now take care of most all that needs to be done, and the family of the deceased doesn’t rely on the community as much to help with the arrangements, the tradition of the family providing food and drinks for others is still upheld and expected.

So I’ve been pretty delinquent as of late about updating my blog. This is me attempting to get back on track though. I had an amazing time back in the States for Christmas. It was great to see friends and family, eat lots of delicious food, put on a sweater, see some snow, and be home for the holidays. Nothing beats being home for Christmas.

I had somehow forgotten how many different types of food there are in the States. Walking into the grocery store I was nearly shocked to see all the wonderful food. I was also pretty stoked that now at grocery stores in Topeka, Kansas, they have so many free samples everywhere (including half-sized sandwiches), that you can eat lunch for free! If you don’t have such luxury, all-inclusive grocery stores where you’re at, just another reason to head to the heartland.

Besides reveling in the joy of rediscovering the greatness of food options in the States, I didn’t really experience much “culture shock” per se during my trip, although I did have an interesting first few days in New York City seeing college friends. St. Lucia and NYC couldn’t be more different from one another, so I often found myself grinning or at times even laughing out loud when seeing how completely opposite the two places are. For example, dogs in St. Lucia are not exalted to such a favorable, posh position as in the US, so seeing New Yorkers walk around their bundled up Chihuahuas and pulling a stoop to scoop the poop was quite a comical site to behold. In addition to watching people obviously rush about, much unlike St. Lucia, it was also funny that my friends insisted on having a “plan” laid out for what we would be doing. What is this thing called a plan? And why would someone call when he or she is 10 minutes late? What’s 10 minutes? It felt a bit peculiar to in “Lucian” mode amidst such a different environment. I didn’t think that my time in St. Lucia had really changed my mentality concerning communication, planning, etc. but apparently at least a little something has rubbed off a bit on me.

I also really enjoyed a couple of unexpected encounters with Caribbean people while in NYC. Even though NYC obviously has the whole “melting pot” thing going for it and is just a tad bit more diverse than St. Lucia, or Kansas for that matter, somehow I didn’t really anticipate running into people from the Caribbean. Interestingly enough, however, one of my first encounters in NYC just so happened to be with a guy from Haiti. My shuttle driver from the airport to my friend’s apartment busted out some Creole after another driver (also Haitian) parked him in. I was stoked that I could actually understand the most of what he was saying (something like why are you stopping there…I can’t pass), and pleasantly surprised that learning Creole had come in handy someplace other than St. Lucia. I also heard another Haitian lady in the airport asking her grandmother “es ou vle chez ou” (do you want your wheelchair) on my way back to St. Lucia. I also caught myself inadvertently speaking Creole as well, as I instinctively told a guy on the street “no mesi” (no thanks) after he tried to offer me a flier. I’m so used to saying that when I’m in Castries (St. Lucia’s capital) or at the airport, where taxi drivers are on the prowl for tourists. While I didn’t expect to run into anyone from the Caribbean, let alone hear anyone speaking Creole, strangely enough I did expect to randomly see people I know on the streets of New York. In St. Lucia it’s almost inevitable that you’ll run into a least one person you know almost anywhere on the island, so the whole time in NYC I was walking around eagerly anticipating that I was going to bump into someone I knew that day. And then I’d realize oh right, NYC has just a few more people than St. Lucia. Shucks.

Now that I’m back I have just over 7 months left before my time with the Peace Corps is up. I’m sure that the time will fly by, given how quickly the past year and a half has gone. So, get in that island vacation you’ve always dreamed of before time runs out and the economy goes south! :)

Host Mom: What are you doing with your curtains for Christmas?

Me: What am I doing with what for Christmas? (I thought I heard her say curtains, but since the question left me baffled, I couldn’t be sure)

Host Mom: Your curtains. Are you going to change them?

Me: Umm…I hadn’t really thought about it. Why? Is that something that’s typically done?

Host Mom: Uh huh. I have some for you. You should put them up in December.

Me: Oh…ok. Thanks. That’s nice of you. Remember I’m leaving December 11th to go home though, so can I put them up sometime soon?

Host Mom: No. You should wait until December.

Me: Oh…ok. I guess it would just be nice to be able to see them myself.

Host Mom: Nah. Put them up in December.

Me: Ok.

Host Mom: Yeah, you can put up the new ones after you take out the ones there now and wash them.

Me: Oh…yeah…perhaps I should do that (people wash curtains??)

Host Mom: Yeah, you should. It’s been over a year and they’re really dirty.

Me: (laughing) Alright. No problem.

Oh, my beloved host mother, how I come to love thee more and more with each passing day. She never ceases to crack me up...

Over the past year or so I have heard a lot of interesting comments regarding my hair, particularly from kids. Here are a few quotes from kids illustrating the different musings of “white man” hair.

- “Mommy look. He’s got hair on his arms and legs just like the dog.”

- “Your hair is nice. Real nice eh. I like to see that.”

- (after feeling the bristly touch of my goatee) “Mesye! You know what they doing with that? When you die they does come and take that and make steel wool with it.” (for those of you non-domestic types, steel wool is the shiny, metallic scrubbing device for dishes).

So eating grapefruits has become a full time job as of late. The tree outside me house is bearing grapefruits as if extinction was imminent and it was putting up its last fight to produce as many as possible. Even though I frequently climb the tree, eat about four a day, and give them to my neighbors, some are still dropping from the tree and spoiling. And, as you can imagine, watching perfectly good fruit go to waste takes quite a large toll on my emotional well being. If any of you reading this and have a cold, come down to St. Lucia and we’ll cure that in no time…

Even though I’ve been struggling with my job in the fruit department, volunteer work has been going reasonably well lately. After a bit of a hiatus, the composting project is getting back on track, thanks be to God. We’re still trying to secure all of the funding for the project, but are making some headway with different organizations. I’m pleased with the progress of a few my violin students. Some of them have improved quite a bit and can play Creole folk songs quite well now.

I’m getting excited to go home for Christmas. It will be nice to see friends and family as well as be able to celebrate Christmas as I am accustomed to. I’ve been playing my Christmas music and bought some cheap lights to get revved up for it.

US ELECTIONS

It has been very interesting following the US election from abroad. It can be quite the topic of conversation, and some people seem to follow it more closely than their own local elections. Even though I obviously knew that events in the USA have an impact on other countries, since living down here I have become much more aware of that influence and of perceptions others hold toward the US political system. Even though I’m an American and follow the election coverage via US cable TV, I feel as though I have been viewing it through a different lens. In seeing that certain people from other countries follow it just as closely as people in the States (if not closer), it not only puts the election on a grander scale but also conveys the reality that it truly is a global matter. In turn, I sense that my perspective has been broadened which has caused me to more seriously consider the voice of the wider world when casting my vote. I obviously didn’t cast my vote for a particular candidate merely because the world wanted that person in office, but at the same time I did consider the important role that our next president plays in working with other world leaders to progress forward collectively.

Everyone I have talked to down here supports Obama. I’m sure that some support him for his stance on political issues, but I definitely have heard, and I quote, “we need a black brother in that white house,” as well as other equally amusing comments. Some even have t-shirts, hats, and other paraphernalia to show their support for Obama. At times I wonder whether I missed a memo that St. Lucians somehow attained the right to vote in the US election.

I’ve been writing this post over the last couple of days and last night was the election. I enjoyed celebrating the historic victory while eating homemade cocoa tea (10x better than hot chocolate) and bakes (fried deliciousness) with a good St. Lucian friend. It seems as though most everyone stayed up until 2 or 3 to follow the election through to its finish. The principal of the school and a few staff members came this morning celebrating and wearing their Obama t-shirts. I am glad to have been able to have had the chance to follow the election from the outside looking in.

JOUNEN KWEYOL

St. Lucia recently celebrated its annual Jounen Kweyol (Creole Day), which is a day specifically set aside to uphold traditional Creole customs and practices of past. The event is held in 4 communities around St. Lucia, where traditional Creole food is sold, folk songs are sung, and traditional dances performed. Even though the event is aimed at celebrating the past, unfortunately in some instances people focus on its financial benefits, and thus certain aspects can be compromised to capitalize on this opportunity. Many of my St. Lucian friends and I noticed that largely Soca and Zoug (more contemporary music) was being played instead of the traditional folk songs, as it’s more popular and keeps the crowd engaged. In addition, in one of the communities pizza was being sold along with lots of little cheap plastic toys for kids. It was disheartening to see such compromises being made, but at least such things didn’t go unnoticed.

The Fond St. Jacques Primary School had a Soiree (night activity) the day after Jounen Creole to raise money for the school. Even though the government provides funds, schools largely have to round up their own resources. The event was really successful. The kids put on different skits, sang songs, jumped rope, etc. Domino tables were set up to engage the older men, I played a few folk songs on my violin, and lots of drinks and food were sold.

SEVERE WEATHER

So a couple weeks ago it rained…a lot. I think it rained every day for about a week and a half. We had a few landslides in my community that completely blocked parts of the road. As a result of Hurricane Omar passing just north of us, the sea was really rough, and the waves caused flooding in Soufriere (closest town to me). Fortunately, however, we haven’t been directly hit by any major storm system so far this hurricane season.

MY SPIRITUAL LIFE IN ST. LUCIA

One of the challenging aspects of service down here has been difficulty in finding a group of Christians to fellowship with. While I enjoy playing my violin with the worship team at the Catholic church, I don’t find it to really be a place of real spiritual nourishment for me. I think this is partly because I’m not Catholic, but also because of the language barrier. Even though I am feeling more and more confident about my ability to dabble a bit in speaking Creole, it’s still challenging for me to pick up everything that is spoken, especially when the person isn’t speaking directly to me. I’ll understand bits and pieces of what the priest says, but not quite enough to put together some kind of cohesive message. I also feel that for some here being Catholic is somewhat cultural, and doesn’t always inform lifestyle. Because of these things, and having just come from college, where I was fortunate to be in the company of a very supportive and spiritually encouraging fellowship, I have felt a bit isolated in my faith here. I think experiencing this has strengthened my faith in that it has forced me to rely on God and not people. On the other hand, being able to share in fellowship with others of the same faith certainly is important and encouraging. Fortunately, a St. Lucian friend of mine and I have started a bible study together a few nights a week. I’ve really enjoyed the opportunity to discuss different topics with him and regain fellowship, however small it may be.

In the style of David Letterman and Andrew Haile, a college friend and fellow Peace Corps Volunteer in Guinea, I decided to do a couple of “top ten” lists relating to different St. Lucia topics. So here goes…

Top Ten Indicators That You Live in a Slightly Humid Climate

10) Cornflakes lose their crispness within one week of being opened.

9) Shirts can be wrung out as if soaked in water after having gone for a jog.

8) Paper from the printer comes out curled up like a scroll.

7) It proves to be rocket science to get something to permanently stick to the wall

6) Mold grows…on just about anything

5) You wake up at 2am sweaty and hot, even though you happen to be sleeping nearly naked and coverless.

4) The handy hot water switch on the shower is never used out of fear that once getting out of the shower you’ll somehow start ironically getting wet with sweat while drying off.

3) The motor of a brand new, flashy Japanese-made fan goes out within months because of overuse.

2) In an attempt to expedite the process of going to sleep, prior to going to bed you open the freezer and put your arms, back, etc. on frozen chicken to cool off.

1) Envelopes magically become sealed by themselves and must therefore be unstuck and glued shut when sending mail.

It’s not always as bad as I make it out to be. August and September just happen to be the worst months. This week it’s been really rainy and thus quite a bit cooler. Just now in a couple months it’ll be “cold.” Still come and visit me. :)

Top Ten St. Lucian Phrases/Mannerisms

10) Eh eh (used in surprise, disgust, and many other situations)

9) Wi Papa or Ma-ma! (like the surprise form of “eh eh”)

8) Awa! (emphatic no)

7) We Me`sye! (way-mess-yay; like the surprise form of “eh eh”)

6) Sucking teeth/Lip smack (usually followed by an “eh eh” in the form of disgust)

5) Popicho! (pop-ee-show; nonsense!)

4) Ci Bon Dye Vle (God willing)

3) Irie (eye-ree; positive or safe)

2) Sa ou di a (sow-dee-ah; translates to “what do you say there” but means how are you).

1) He…he…he…he Salop! (used when someone makes a big mistake, falls down, etc.; last word used in isolation is taken as a curse)

A couple of posts ago I mentioned that we had started up a table tennis/games afternoon in the parish center on Sunday afternoons. It’s been going well and fortunately a considerable number of youth has been consistently coming. We were also able to get access to a few more games (scrabble, chess, connect 4) from an after school program that has since stopped. We’re hoping to open up the parish center a couple of days during the week as well and are in the process of getting permission from the parish council.

Oh, one last thing. The mice are back. Good thing I’ve already established the most effective, humane way of dealing with them, eh?

I mentioned in my last post that I was going on a short trip to a nearby island to the north called Dominica with some teachers from a school in Soufriere. I got back from the trip about a week ago and really enjoyed my time there. Dominica is known as the “nature island” of the Caribbean, so it was right up my alley. One of the highlights from the trip was hiking to an amazingly humungous waterfall and bathing in the pool at the bottom. The water in the pool was really rough—almost to the point of forming waves—because of the strength of the water falling into the pool. I tried to go down and touch the bottom of the pool a couple of times, but each time I kept going down and down and eventually thought to myself maybe I should start going back up now. Since I recently got scuba certified in St. Lucia I figured I should probably make use of it and see what the coral/fish are like in Dominica. One of my Peace Corps friends in Dominica is also certified and hooked me up with a good price at a dive shop where she was certified. My scuba diving experience was great and I saw a lot more underwater life than I expected to see. The coral was some of the brightest I’ve seen and I saw a turtle, a couple of eels, lobsters, and of course a bunch of tropical fish. At the aptly named “Champagne” dive site, there was a spot where warm bubbles were coming up from the ocean floor due to volcanic activity on the island. That was pretty cool. I also had a good time hanging out with the teachers and joking around with them in Creole. Once they were aware that I’ve been making an effort to learn Creole they were intentional about speaking it to me, so I got a lot of good practice in.

Since coming to Fond St. Jacques I’ve developed quite a few nicknames, some which make sense and others which leave me confused. The most popular is “Ben Ten.” Apparently there’s a cartoon on TV with a character named Ben Ten who has a special watch that gives him 10 crazy powers or something. I’ve tried to find it on TV so I can discover who I really am, but alas I haven’t had any luck yet. I like the idea of having special powers though. Another nickname is “Dr. Ben.” Despite my lack of a medical degree, my neighbor insists I have an honorary degree and likes to call me that. If it’s not Dr. Ben, it’s Ben Hur. I’ve got no complaints. If people want to attribute special powers, a marked increase in intellect, or superhuman strength to me, they can go right ahead.

I’ve been meaning to write a little something about the presence of the Rastafarian culture in St. Lucia, specifically in Fond St. Jacques. I think I have hesitated to this point because I don’t have a complete understanding of the religion/phiolosophy myself. Well, here’s a bit of what I do know. Rastafarians believe that Haile Selassie, a former Ethiopian leader and descendant of King Solomon, was the returned Messiah Jesus Christ. They follow the dietary restrictions of the Old Testament and therefore are almost exclusively vegetarian. Most grow dreadlocks in accordance with verses of the Old Testament (Leviticus 21:5). Cannabis (marijuana) is seen as a sacrament and is smoked to clean the body and soul and bring one to a higher level of consciousness and closer to Jah (God). The movement has been popularized by reggae music, particularly that of Bob Marley. Most Rastafarians I know farm for a living, and since Fond St. Jacques is largely a farming community, I know quite a few. A couple of the guys at the Farmers’ Cooperative that I work with on the composting project are Rastafarian.

I’m excited to be going home to Kansas this Christmas to see family and friends. I’m going to stop in NYC for a few days to see some college friends before heading home. Ticket prices were just about the same traveling straight home to Kansas as it was flying to NYC and then to Kansas, so I figured I would take the opportunity to catch up with some people I haven’t seen in awhile. If anyone is going to be NYC from the 11th to the 15th or on New Year’s Eve, let me know.

Recently karaoke was brought to Fond St. Jacques, spicing up the usually quiet night-life. Although it always proves to be an interesting time, to date nothing has quite topped my first experience there roughly a month ago. It was not only an amusing evening of singing, but also of obligatory dancing and awkward moments brought about by peculiar song choices. Although the thought did cross my mind to break the mold and introduce karaoke whistling, I decided that people were most likely already thinking “Gade nomn blan fou chante la!” (Look at the crazy white man singing there!), and that whistling might just be a bit more than they could handle. ☺

The night started getting really interesting when Milena, a hilarious petite 50 some year old woman, otherwise self-named as “Sugar Top Celebrity on the Road to Jerusalem” showed up. Without having met her personally, there’s no way that you can fully understand or appreciate the true essence of Sugar Top, but you should be able to at least grasp from the name that she’s quite a character. Anyway, during one of the songs she literally grabbed me and started dancing. Since I know her reasonably well from teaching her neighbors the violin, I played along and danced with her despite the fact that nobody else in the entire place was dancing. Now most of you guys probably know that I’m not the biggest dancer in the world, and am usually more up for dancing in large camouflaging groups rather than one on one with large groups of people blatantly staring as if it were a spectacle, so after one dance I had personally more than satisfied my dancing quota for the evening. Unfortunately Sugar Top was just getting warmed up. No matter what escape tactic I used, she aggressively insisted on dancing song after song, and not wanting to be insulting or rude I reluctantly continued, half-heartedly yet obediently following her ever constant twirling commands like a dog having just been commanded to go to his kennel. After awhile, however, I managed to get away citing dance fatigue.

While the dancing did fortunately come to a stop, the evening festivities were long from over. Late in the night someone chose to sing a Caribbean song with a very unusual premise. In brief, the song was about two white girls who travel to the bush of Africa, stumble upon a cannibalistic tribe, and are eaten. The chorus composed of barbaric chanting of the words “you never taste a white meat yet!” As the lone white person present, I felt just a tad bit awkward, but decided that the only thing to do was resort to laughing at the absurdity of the song. I started really laughing, however, when the guy singing the song changed the words to “Ben never taste a black meat yet!” I should have taken the microphone from him and retorted, “Eh eh? Es ou asiwe? Mwen te manje i deja, ek i ni bon gou” (are you sure? I ate it already and it has good taste), but I didn’t think of that until later. Next time…

I brought my tennis racquet to St. Lucia on a whim, hoping that at some point over my two years here I would have the chance to hit a tennis ball. Well, God granted my wish as I’ve not only had the chance to hit a ball or two, but have had the opportunity to coach a tennis camp for kids with another Peace Corps Volunteer these past three weeks on the southern part of the island. At times it was a bit hectic, given that we had roughly thirty kids and only 1 court and a back mini-court to coach on, but all in all I enjoyed it. The kids were very enthusiastic about playing tennis, so that made up for their occasionally troublesome behaviors. I was glad when it finished though, as I felt slightly bad about not being quite as present in my own community and grew tired of all the traveling.

Not only have I had the chance to play tennis lately, but I’ve also been playing a lot of the next best thing – table tennis. After talking with the parish council and the Church Youth Group, I helped initiate a games afternoon every Sunday at the parish center. Table tennis used to be a very popular activity in Fond St. Jacques, but it died out when the school temporarily moved into the area it had been taking place during its renovations. Now that the school has long been renovated, and the parish center hasn’t been used for hardly anything, why not do something with it? We painted the table tennis board and built a semi-sturdy leg structure for it. It has been fun playing it along with dominoes and cards, and quite a few youth turn out for it. I hope that after we prove to the church that the kids won’t wreck the place, we can move to having it on a more regular basis and expand to have some other types of games and activities.

The recently formed Fond St. Jacques Youth and Sports Club had its grand launching yesterday. In the morning we had a relay marathon. Teams of 8 designated individual runners for different legs of the race around the Soufriere district. Although teams from other communities didn’t have a good showing, quite a few people from Fond St. Jacques came and we had a pretty competitive race. In the afternoon we had a small goals football competition, and later on in the evening a dance. All in all it was a good way to kick things off and I hope that we can build off of the momentum.

So as of about a week ago I have been on St. Lucia for 1 year. It’s crazy to think how quickly my time here has gone by so far. Every time I check myself another month has flown by. I find myself ambivalent with respect to what I think about this quick passing of time. In a week we have a 3 day mid-service training here on St. Lucia with all the volunteers from the different Eastern Caribbean islands. It’ll be nice to catch up with everyone that I met a year ago, swap stories, eat a well-balanced meal, etc. ☺

After mid-service training I’m going on a week long vacation with a group of teachers from Soufriere to Dominica, a nearby island to the north. From what I’ve heard Dominica is gorgeous with rugged mountains for hiking and as many rivers as there are days of the year. I’m really looking forward to a bit of time off island before school starts back up in early September.

So every year St. Lucia hosts a big jazz music festival featuring world renown artists that attracts tourists from all over the world. Ironically enough, besides the Kenny J music that I hear for the processional at almost every wedding I've been to here, practically NO ONE from St. Lucia listens to or likes jazz music at all. It's obviously done exclusively with tourists in mind. In Soufriere, however, most of the artists this year were local Creole artists. I enjoyed hearing the local music, but got quite a kick out of the fact that none of the music in the Soufriere "jazz" festival was actually jazz.

I'm excited to report that, after lots of planning and coordinating, we've finally managed to organize a youth and sports club in Fond St. Jacques! Apparently awhile back there used to be a group focused mostly around football and cricket, but after some complications and drama the group split, causing organized activity for youth to largely come to a halt. So, the past couple of months I've been working with a few people in the community to try and unify the youth of Fond St. Jacques and form a new club. We focused on targeting a wide cross section of youth in the community by advertising that the club wants to undertake a variety of different types of activities (sports for both guys and girls, culture, education, debate, etc.), instead of just football and cricket. The night of the election we were a bit nervous because we weren't sure if people would turn out or not. We had registered a large number of people, but then again that doesn't always mean too much. Thankfully, nearly fifty people came and we were able to elect an executive board to move youth and sports forward in the community. I pray that God will continue to bless the group and that it'll start off on the right foot.

In collaboration with a fellow PCV and a Tour Guide Association, we organized World Environment Day activities. We had a screening of a film about climate change/global warming and how St. Lucia is affected as well as a hike. Things came together and we had a good turnout for the film and the hike as well. I think it had something to do with the fact that a free t-shirt was involved, but nevertheless it was good that people came. Considering that littering is a BIG problem here (kids, adults, everyone), it was good to have an event that reminded people of the importance of taking care of the environment.

In my last post I spoke about mangoes and how spectacular they are. I thoroughly enjoyed mango season, but it's unfortunately coming close to its end. I have a funny story involving mangoes though. An older gentlemen (early 70's) was nice enough to take me to his mango tree one day to pick some for me. When we reached the tree I scoured the ground picking up all the mangoes that had fallen but were still somewhat edible and started eating them immediately. Mr. Morris, my friend, told me not to bother with those because most of them were too soft or rotten. I told him that one man's trash is another man's treasure and that quite a few of them looked alright to me (at least worth a good bite or two). So, while I was busy shoving mangoes down my gob, Mr. Morris was approaching the tree and looking for the best way to climb it. Now I don't mean to gloat, but I consider myself to be a pretty good tree climber. Looking at this tree, however, I was stumped as to how anyone (especially a 70 some year old) would even begin to think of how to climb it. Granted my mind was bit preoccupied with shoveling in the mangoes, and I wasn't closely inspecting it, I had no idea how he was planning on climbing it. Next thing I knew, he had his entire body wrapped around the large trunk and was shimmying his way up it. There I was, a reasonably fit, 23 year old, watching a man 3X plus my age doing something physical that I most likely would have failed miserably at. Yay pride check. Meanwhile, I'm still devouring mangoes like a little kid given free reign in a candy store. To add to it, most of the mangoes were, by St. Lucian standards, most likely "untouchable." After successfully climbing the tree with much ease, Mr. Morris took one look at me shoveling in mango after mango, chuckled, and told me if I don't stop eating mangoes I'll probably crap myself. I laughed loudly and responded, "it'll have been well worth it." So, in the end, I took an enormous bag of mangoes home, and soon discovered that breakfast, lunch, and dinner could largely be simplified. :) Oh, and yes, Mr. Morris wasn't kidding. I seriously pooped around 3 times a day for a solid couple of weeks (just in case you were curious).

Mango season is back! I can’t convey in words how exciting this is. Let’s just say that as far as fruit is concerned, mangoes are the blueberry of St. Lucia. I can’t eat enough of them and have thoroughly enjoyed trying a few of the 100+ varieties found on the island. I do have my mango suspicions though. I think that there’s a big conspiracy behind the mango’s stringy fibrousness. I’m of the belief that back in the day a group of clever dentists decided to genetically modify mangoes to make them stringier, forcing people not so hygienically inclined to floss their teeth. Major props to them though…I’ve gone from once a week to at least 4 times a day now.

Along with football (soccer), cricket is one of the most popular sports on St. Lucia. After nearly 10 months down here, I think I have finally grasped most of the rules and understand generally how the game works. A few weeks ago the West Indies team, of which there is only one St. Lucian player, played the team from Sri Lanka. Because it was the only big match of the year played on St. Lucia, I went along to see what all the fuss was about. The game itself was decently entertaining, but what made the day was observing St. Lucian cheering antics and experiencing the atmosphere. Let’s just say that the combination of intense cricket passion and thirst for certain beverages that some St. Lucians have made it an interesting environment.

Even though I’m serving as a volunteer, I am living on a tropical island, and it would be downright silly of me not to take advantage of certain opportunities associated with such an environment. Consequently, out of nothing more than mere obligation, I’ve started taking scuba lessons with some fellow volunteers and will hopefully soon be certified. Alright, so coming from a slightly land-locked part of the US it actually might be something that I’ve kind of wanted to do for most all of my life, but that’s beside the point. Fortunately, since our group technically resides in St. Lucia, we were able to go through the certification classes for the local price instead of the tourist price, which saved us a considerable amount of money. I’ve done quite a bit of training in the pool, have gone on a 30 ft. dive in the ocean, and now just have a couple more dives left until I’ll officially be certified.

So to make myself feel a bit less guilty and to counter the impression you most likely now have that I’m bumming around on a beach for the better part of two years, I’ll give you a little update with how volunteer work has been going lately. I mentioned a few posts ago that I had started reading stories to a group of kids before school. Even though that was cool, we’ve moved it to another level and I’m excited that the kids have responded positively to it. Now it has taken the form of a “reading buddy” program, where older kids are paired with younger ones and help them work on their reading. I’m encouraged because the kids really seem to be enjoying it, and quite a few students in the middle grades have also joined in since it’s begun. Yay reading. I pray that the kids’ stay interested and keep it up.

The composting project with the Farmers’ Cooperative continues to make good progress. We’re still putting together the nuts and bolts of the proposal (boo hiss messy budgets) and are having meetings with some of the key stakeholders on St. Lucia (e.g., Solid Waste Management, Ministry of Agriculture) to get involvement at the national level that is needed for the project to really succeed.

After my jogging routine somewhat staggered to a near halt, I’m glad to have started back up more consistently in the early morning with a couple guys. It’s nice because now that there are three of us there’s an entire new level of accountability; if one person can’t do it for whatever reason, the other person is still hopefully there to motivate you to successfully roll out of bed at 5am. Both of the guys are former boxers, and one of them is even a former St. Lucian boxing champion who’s trying to get back into good boxing shape. Since I’ve thrown my fair share of punches back on the farm in KS, and have the natural disposition of a fighter, I’m seriously considering prematurely leaving the Peace Corps and training to become St. Lucia’s first “nonm blan” to capture the heavyweight crown. 

In my last post I briefly wrote about an interesting experience I had coming back home on a bus involving gas and the Creole language. Since then, I’ve written a more comprehensive version of the story that tells the story from its true start. I thought I would add it on the end here. Exercise caution though. You might end up learning more Creole than you ever wanted to know.

The Human Body: An Advanced Course in Patois

While serving as a PCV for the past several months on St. Lucia, I have really enjoyed the opportunity to have a crack at learning another language, and have been taking Patios lessons alongside a fellow PCV. Although they have sadly come to an end, one of the most satisfying and amusing parts of my Patios lessons was learning seemingly inapplicable vocabulary that somehow extraordinarily enough found, and continues to find, its way into everyday conversations.

One day, when my fellow PCV was disappointingly absent attending a meeting, leaving me for a one-on-one showdown with her 50 some year old host mother, the topic at hand was parts of the body. After learning how to say everything from under belly to the names of individual toes, which seemed like more than enough information to reasonably cover, I closed my notebook and started getting prepared to leave. My Patois teacher, probably the sweetest, kindest, most religiously devout person on St. Lucia, looked at me like I was crazy and said “eh eh, we’re not finished yet.” What followed was an equally comprehensive tutorial on all of the other parts of the body that we had somehow earlier neglected to delve into. After struggling to maintain my composure, I finally erupted into laughter when she proceeded to ask me, in all seriousness I might add, if I knew how to say “anus” in Patois. Upon observing my reaction, she asked me what was so funny, and went on to say that she really doesn’t understand why people (including her Kindergarteners) think that such things are laughing matters. Smiling, I told her I understood that this aspect of the lesson should be approached with utmost seriousness, but that I was just very curious as to when the next occasion would present itself for me to whip out “twou bonda” in a conversation.

Little did I know that the opportunity would arise a number of times, including a few short weeks later on a bus coming back from a Catholic youth crusade. On the return trip some real cheeky fellow kept passing the most terribly smelling gas. After the first couple of offences everybody kept silent, attempting to imagine that nothing was happening, but soon all the windows were wide open and everyone was vexed and accusing someone else of being responsible. After paying close attention to the Patois that was being spoken, I picked up enough to realize that they were speculating as to whether or not I, the “nonm blan,” was the culprit. I defiantly responded, "Awa! Ou fou!" (no! you're crazy!), and then told them in English that I wasn't capable of producing such a rancid smell. A little while later, after my sense of smell was once again bombarded with a wave of vaporized rotten dasheen and green figs, I turned to my neighbor and, thinking fondly of Patois lessons of past, sternly told him, "Tjenbe twou bonda ou!" (Hold your anus!). Needless to say, it got quite a reaction.

So thanks to my language instructor for refusing to let me compromise my knowledge of the human body in Patois, and for showing me that the “twou bonda” certainly is not a laughing matter…it’s a serious ting.

As I mentioned in my previous post, Donnie Stuart, a friend of mine from Middlebury, paid me a visit for part of his spring break a couple of weeks ago. It was great to catch up, here about college friends, as well as attempt to show him some most of the hot spots in St. Lucia during his short trip. One of the highlights was climbing Petit Piton, one of the tallest mountains in St. Lucia. What started as a relatively moderate hike turned quite intense part way up, as we were forced to do a bit of rockclimbing using ropes. The scattered rain didn't really make the climb much easier either. The view from the top made it well worth it, however, as we could see not only all of Soufriere but also Gros Piton (another nearby mountain) and all the way down to the Southern tip of the island. Other highlights included a couple of trips to the beach, a rainforest walk to a nearby waterfall, a mud bath at the sulphur springs/volcano (all my wrinkles are gone), dominoes, and watching a bit of March Madness (yay Kansas!).

I went with the Catholic Youth Group to an event in another community last weekend. It was aimed at trying to revive youth involvement in the Church, which is lacking in many parishes. It was a good event, but we had quite an interesting trip back to Fond St. Jacques afterwards. On the trip back someone kept passing the most terribly smelling gas on the bus. At first nobody said anything, but after awhile all the windows were open and everyone was accusing someone else of being responsible. After paying close attention to the Patois (Creole) that was being spoken, I picked up enough to realize that they were speculating as to whether or not I was the culprit. I responded, "Awa! Ou fou!" (no! you're crazy!), and then told them in English that I wasn't capable of producing such rancid smells. A little while later, after my sense of smell was bombarded once again with a wave of something not so sweet, I turned to my neighbor and sternly told him to "Chebe tou bonda ou!" (Hold your butt!) People really got a kick out of that. I guess learning all of the parts of the body in my Patois lessons came in handy after all...

Few things on this great earth beat the cool, refreshing, and somewhat exhilarating feeling of the open air blowing in your face on a hot day while riding in the back of a truck. Since coming to St. Lucia, one aspect of the culture that I have come to wholeheartedly embrace is the use of hitchhiking as a means to get around. Despite the fact that the public transportation system actually does run fairly efficiently, there are certain times (i.e. after 7pm; Sundays) when buses are difficult to find, if available at all. Hitchhiking is also common no matter what the time because in a relatively small community (and island) where people know one another, it only makes sense that someone with a vehicle would give another person a lift. One day after flagging down a truck and hopping in the back, I gradually noticed a pungent odor. I started wondering what the source of the smell was, sheepishly checked myself to make sure I hadn’t suddenly gotten a bad case of BO, and then glanced around and realized that I wasn’t the only one catching a lift. I was joined by a medium sized pig lying in a dasheen sack on the other side of the truck bed, unnoticeable except for his snout sticking out of the end of the bag. Perhaps he was hitching to the slaughter?

In the world of volunteer work, I’m excited that the composting project with the Farmers’ Cooperative has started promisingly. After submitting a brief project concept form describing our general idea, we received word from the funding organization that they are really interested in the project and, granted that our project includes certain components, will fund a substantial amount of it. I’ve enjoyed working with the Cooperative because so far they really seem to have an invested interest in seeing the project come to fruition and are therefore dedicated to actually committing time to make sure it happens. Plus, the principal contact person from the Cooperative that I’ve been working closely with usually ends every phone conversation by saying “respect, positive, one love, Irie" (a common word people yell in passing at one another meaning “safe”). How cool is that? ☺

I’ve also had the opportunity to start teaching tennis to a group of kids down on the Southern part of the island once every couple of weeks. The previous coach apparently is unable to do it now, so another Peace Corps volunteer and I are switching off every other Saturday in the meantime. It’s been nice to be able to pick up my racquet again.

Because Fond St. Jacques doesn’t have a market or store of any significant size, oftentimes businesses from Soufriere will bring bread or fish up. The fish truck usually comes at nights and gets people’s attention by blowing a conch shell as it passes through. I personally think that it’s pretty sweet, but I’m not quite as big a fan of the bread van that usually slowly creeps by in the morning around 5:30 honking loudly for everyone to hear. I’ve gotten used to the roosters crowing ridiculously early, but as of yet I’ve been unable to tune out the noisy bread guy. "Pay la!" (keep quiet!)

My Easter experience in St. Lucia was quite different than previous years in the States. As with Christmas, some people celebrate by attending an all night party leading into Easter Sunday. After my Christmas experience I had enough foresight this time around to realize that wasn’t exactly my cup of tea and forego the party. On Easter Sunday the church had a Bazaar in the afternoon, which is basically a fair of sorts aimed at raising money for the church. I helped out at the “lucky dip” game, in which participants pay 2 dollars to reach in a bag and choose a number which has a corresponding prize. Of course some of the prizes were more desirable than others. I found it quite funny when grown men would come over with high hopes of winning a bottle of rum, only to end up with a not so coveted blue polka dotted women’s bra. Soon after yelling “awa!” (no!) and launching the bra out of sight, they would come crawling back to play once again, only to face the same undesirable fate. And in case you were wondering, no, the third time wasn’t a charm.

This past Monday I volunteered at the Senior games, which is essentially a track and field meet for older persons. It ran like any typical track meet, except they included a few additional activities like lime and spoon, sack races, three legged races, etc. One of the highlights was when one of the three legged race teams that had seemingly mastered the art collapsed about 2 feet from the finish line, only to watch most all of the teams pass them by. One of the relays was pretty comical as well, because after his teammates had gained an impressive lead over all the other teams, the anchor man on one team decided to slowly jog along, coaxing the other teams to try and catch up. After hopping on one leg about 10 meters from the finish line, the guy accidentally dropped the baton and ended up losing the race. I couldn't have been more thrilled...serves the little putz right.

Well, that’s all I’ve got time for now because I’m heading off to the airport to pick up good ole Donnie Stuart, a friend from Middlebury College who’s coming to visit for part of spring break. "Mwen pa sa espewe!" (I can’t wait!)

When I first got to St. Lucia and was not yet aware that I would be staying here for the entirety of my service, I purchased a hat from a tourist shop that has the words “live slow” written on the front of it. Coming from fast paced America (and college life nonetheless) where people oftentimes can’t find time to remember to breathe, I couldn’t have been more excited about embracing a culture that values relaxing and doesn’t pay so much attention to time. Little did I know how difficult aspects of adapting to this mindset would be, especially given that successfully completing the amount of work that I’ve been involved with this past month isn’t easily done with a laid back attitude.

My good friend Vincent and I planned a Health and Fitness walk for February 17th as well as traditional St. Lucian activities for Independence Day (22nd). We tried to get more young guys in the Youth and Sports organization involved in the planning of the activities, but unfortunately it ended up being the two of us arranging everything. It was no small task as we had to make the budget, solicit funds from businesses, order and print t-shirts, sign people up, advertise, buy prizes, etc. Needless to say, we needed to be on top of our game to get everything accomplished. Through much of it I found myself feeling that it was essential to get some of the tasks done ahead of time (as I’m used to in the States), but because of the cultural norms here related to time, as well as simple lack of manpower, certain tasks got pushed back until last minute. For the health and fitness walk we ended up peeling grapefruits until 1 in the morning, waking up at 4 to make juice and slice carrots, and we finally had everything ready by 6:15 for the start at 6:30. On Independence Day we had to wake up just before 5am to retrieve a cut and stripped tree from the rainforest (which took about 6 hours due to last minute falling through of transport), grease and erect the pole, collect a pig from town to grease, and so on.

Trying to stay relaxed and not worry about the clock ticking during all the last minute arranging was beyond my capabilities. It was comparable to starting a research paper on the history of the world the morning it’s due and trying to maintain one’s composure. Not happening for this guy. Anyway, I’ve since modified the slogan on the hat from “live slow” to “live slow but keep moving.” In the end, thanks to nothing but the miraculous grace of God everything ended up coming together for both activities. People really enjoyed the fitness walk and fortunately we’ve been able to continue it early every Sunday morning to encourage exercise and healthy living in the community, which is essential given that it has been speculated that the Caribbean has the highest prevalence of diabetes in the world.

So you might be wondering what the heck we were doing with a pole, a pig, and a bunch of oil and grease for Independence Day. Two of the most traditional Independence Day activities in St. Lucia are “greasy pole” and “greasy pig.” For greasy pole, a stripped tree entirely covered in oil and grease is erected with a bottle tied at the top. The first person who can successful reach the top and untie the bottle (no ladder, etc.) gets $100 and a bottle of rum (a big motivator). Needless to say, it’s pretty funny to watch and in the end people are forced to form a pyramid to reach the top. Greasy pig involves covering a pig with oil and grease, slapping it on the butt, and allowing the first person to successfully catch the slippery pig to keep it. Between helping oil and grease the pig and the pole, I ended up looking pretty dirty. People started saying, “hey, you’ve turned black today!” Little did they know how many levels that comment was operating on. Not only had my skin turned a different shade, but having been essentially initiated into the last minute chaos that characterizes the planning of many projects here, I couldn’t help but feel Lucian in a completely different respect. Other activities we had were sack races, three legged races, a fitness contest, a water balloon toss, and tug of war.

I really enjoyed having my parents come to pay me a visit, as it provided them with the opportunity to see firsthand what I’ve been describing in emails, on the phone, etc. as well as the chance to meet friends and newfound family. Unless they were lying to me, I can say that they thoroughly enjoyed their trip. Although they of course liked the beach, bathing in sulfur water from the volcano, seeing the rainforest/waterfalls, and zip-lining, etc. I think what they really took away from the trip was a much better understanding of St. Lucian culture through meeting my friends, experiencing Independence Day, coming to the school, and living at my house instead of in an isolated hotel removed from local community life. It was great to enjoy spending a relaxed time with them after a hectic month. We had some good conversations that helped me further reflect on my experience so far as well as express some things that blog entries and emails can’t quite convey. One of the most classic moments from the trip came after I introduced my parents to a local shop owner. After a couple minutes, my mom asked me, “are you able to understand what they’re saying in Creole?” I smile and respond, “that’s English mom.” 

So a few days ago I was taking a walk with my Bojangles and decided to visit my host mother in her garden. After saying hello, she tells me that she has heard that I’m pretty good at climbing trees. “Mwen enmen moute pye bwa” (I love climbing trees) I respond, “especially the grapefruit tree in front of my house”. She then asks if I can climb a different nearby grapefruit tree for her and pick some. After picking a bunch she gives me one to eat. While I’m peeling it I hear her say “I’m sorry.” I confusedly respond, “for what?” I hear her reply, “I fat.” “What,” I ask, perplexed as to why my 69 year old host mom who works in the garden nearly everyday would be concerned about, and more puzzling, apologizing for her weight. “I fat” I hear her say again. “No you’re not,” I assure her. “You look good.” “No, no, I fart…I pass gas out the back,” she says, finally bringing the added clarity (and awkwardness) to the conversation. “Oh…ok,” I say chuckling. Yet another classic encounter with MaPego

After having done my laundry by hand for awhile now it’s not nearly as much of a pain as it used to be, and I think my clothes smell decently after washing them (I don’t know if that’s to say they’re really clean though). It made my day though when my elderly neighbor Sil saw my white laundry hanging up and asked me who did it. After jokingly telling her white guys can scrub a bit too, she laughed and told me she was impressed by how white they were and didn’t believe a man could wash so well. Her comment was flattering, but I’m sure she wouldn’t have been so complimentary had she taken a closer look…

So I’m excited to be starting my very own garden. Despite being from Kansas, I sadly know very little about gardening. Fortunately, however, a farmer from the area who I met on a walk allowed me to tag along with him for a day and learn a bit/help him out over the Christmas break, and told me that if I purchased some seeds from the Farmers’ Cooperative he would help me plant some things (“do a little ting” as they say they it) on his land. I’ve since planted some cucumbers and hope to also have a try at some watermelon, carrots, and okra.

Fatherhood has generally been treating me well, although it does have its trying times. Don’t worry…I’m referring to the dog, not a baby Bojangles (although I did have an old guy seriously tell me that I should “leave at least 2 mixed babies down here when I go” ) I’ve been working to break him of his aggressive possession of food (aggravated by ornery school children who try and simultaneously feed and play with him when I’m gone), as well as rid him of his tic infestation (I picked 10+ off of him at one time…have since gotten a tic/flea collar). He’s a sweet dog though and people in the community always ask me without fail where he is if I pass by without him.

So between half-washing my clothes and having awkward conversations with my host mom, what have I been doing, you might ask? The New Year has brought some new projects to work on that I hope will be successful. I’ve started a reading club at the primary school. I meet with the kids for about a half hour before school, read to them (currently “The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe”), and ask them questions about what’s going on in the story. I’m encouraged by how engaged and attentive the children are. During the normal school hours trying to get even a small group of students to follow along as each student reads can oftentimes be like pulling teeth, but when it’s in the context of being read to, they usually quickly congregate. I’m hoping that the reading club will help them realize that reading can be fun and enjoyable. Last week was also the first week that I started teaching the 3rd graders how to play the recorder. It was quite the challenge having 30 of them all together at once, each with an object that has the potential of making noise at their disposal. The lesson went alright, but it was challenging to keep them quiet and get around to each one to see whether they understood what was being taught.

I’ve also started working with the Farmers’ Cooperative to put together a proposal for available grant money through the Global Environment Facility (GEF), a United Nations program that gives out grants to CBOs and NGOs that address global environmental problems at the local level. We’re hoping to build off an organic farming GEF project that is already underway by doing something with composting (using a shredder). We also might look into the possibility of using coconut husks as a means to produce seedlings. It’s still in the early stages, so who knows where it might go. I feel a bit out of my element with the agricultural side of things, but I’m hoping that I’ll be able to assist with the proposal writing and coordinating of the project details.

I’m continuing giving the violin lessons and have started with more students in another community. I now have 17 students and am encouraged by the progress that some of them are making. The chance to help with the tennis program I mentioned previously unfortunately ended up falling through, but I’ve been playing on Fridays with a junior national girl’s champ after violin lessons. She’s a solid player and it’s been great to have the opportunity to pick up my racquet again.

I’m excited that my parents are coming in late February to visit for about a week and a half. It should be a lot of fun showing them around and introducing them to people, etc. If anyone else feels the need to escape to a tropical paradise for a little while, know that you’re just a plane ticket away! American Airlines just started some really reasonably priced flights out of NYC, depending on the time of year…

So even though I’m in the Peace Corps, at times I feel as though I’m in the middle of a World War, as I hear loud bomb-like noises coming from around the area. Come to find out, as Christmas comes traditional bamboo bursting commences as a celebratory activity. To get right to it, a hole is made on one of the ends of a piece of bamboo, and when you add some kerosene and fire, you’ve got yourself a deafening noise. I came across some kids from the primary school doing it one day. I thought it was kind of entertaining to watch, until one of the kids proceeded to take the bottle of kerosene, put some of it in his mouth and spit it out at a flame to make a “dragon.” Seeing this at the circus is one thing, but watching an elementary school kid do it is another.

Before coming to St. Lucia I didn’t really think too much of dominoes. To me it was a very simplistic, tedious, and unexciting game. Boy was I profoundly mistaken. After joining a few games at a local convenience shop not far from my home, I quickly came to the realization that I know just as much about the game of dominoes as I do about how to properly dispose of pesky mice stuck to glue traps (if confused, refer to previous post). After getting completely schooled a few times, I learned that there’s a lot more thought that goes into the seemingly straightforward game than I thought. Plus, St. Lucian dominoes is quite a bit more entertaining than what I remembered playing at my grandparents’ home as a child. When feeling good about their next play (or just for kicks), players lift the domino high above their heads and smack it down hard on the table (reminiscent of watching WWF with my previous host mom). I’ve done it a few times but still need to work on channeling my inner rage. There’s also a very particular way of shuffling the dominoes that I’ve yet to master. How difficult can it be to mix up a few dominoes, you ask? Well, apparently it takes more skill then I’ve got because I definitely got laughed at when trying to do it. When it comes to shuffling cards though, St. Lucians have no idea how to do it the way we do it in the States (the bridge, etc.). Instead they “beat” them by rapidly taking some on the bottom and smacking them on top.

This past week has been really encouraging, especially with respect to my social and spiritual life here in Fond St. Jacques. People here are very friendly, but for awhile now I’ve felt like I have a ton of “friendly acquaintances” rather than true “friends.” I have also felt somewhat discouraged in terms of spiritual fellowship. Going to the Catholic Church has been alright, but I’m just more accustomed to a different style of service. The Catholic Youth Group is also really struggling right now to get people to show up to meetings. A group of around 15 people attended a nation-wide Youth Rally, but since then only 3 people (including myself) have shown up for the meetings. It seems that people are more interested in the social aspect of the group (i.e. meeting people from other parts of the island at large events) and not so much wider, consistent involvement.

So back to what has been encouraging. I’ve made good friends with one of the teachers at the school. We’ve started exercising (walking/jogging) in the morning starting around 5:30 or 6. Yeah, I’m also shocked that I’m able to wake up that early, but it’s such a great way to start the day. We’ve also been having bible studies periodically throughout the week. It’s such an answer to prayer because not only has God blessed me with a friend, but also one that is like-minded. We’re hoping to eventually get some of the other guys in the area involved as well.

I’m also really excited about an opportunity that has come up to teach even more students the violin, as well as start teaching some kids tennis lessons. After talking with the director of the school of music, I found out about a violin group at a school in a community about 30 minutes south of where I live. They currently lack an instructor, but have 10 violins and a couple handful of students with varying degrees of experience. Starting next term I’ll be going down to give them lessons on Fridays, and in a different community close by I’ll teach some tennis lessons to a different group of students. Once again, God has been so great in blessing me with so many opportunities to utilize what I truly enjoy doing for projects.

So one day I come home from the school to grab some lunch before heading into town. I search the cupboards and refrigerator only to realize that I’ve got squat to work with. Just then I remembered that my host mother had passed by in her car earlier that day and had said a few things I hadn’t entirely picked up. I thought I would go down and say a quick hello to make sure I hadn’t missed anything important. Perhaps I would think of something brilliant to cook for lunch with ketchup, flour, and peanut butter on my trip over…you never know. As I reach her house I notice that she’s just finishing her lunch specialty…chicken and chips (fries) from the Chinese restaurant in town (sidenote: she always gets the chicken and chips, and once looked at me strangely when I nearly ordered actual Chinese food…shame on me!). I ask her what she had said driving past in the van that morning and she responds, “oh nothing, just saying hi.” She then tells me to take the remaining scraps of her food back to Bojangles (the dog) as a treat. I agree, say thanks, and proceed back to home with the white Styrofoam take out container in my hand. As I walk back home, I think to myself, should I really allow my dog to have these greasy fries? After all, he’s just a puppy…we wouldn’t want to screw up his digestive system. True, dogs eat anything, but should they be eating everything? As I’m sure you’ve already figured out, the story ends with me gluttonously stealing the scraps of limp fries from my dog and voraciously gobbling them up, a look of devilish glee upon my face. This was done, of course, only after making sure the window looking out to my host mom’s house was shut. 

So I recently experienced my first Christmas away from my family and in a foreign country. It was spent entirely different than at home in Kansas, and while I did enjoy some aspects of it, other parts left me feeling out of place and experiencing significant homesickness for the first time since I have been here. Early on Christmas Eve I went to accompany the church choir with my violin at Ladera, a fancy hotel located in between the Pitons (two mountains). I enjoyed it, tough I must admit I felt a bit strange playing reggae carols and seeing so many tourists. Afterwards, I went back home with a friend and we rested before going to Jouvert (day break). Every year on Christmas Eve people celebrate by having an enormous party filled with drinking and dancing all through the night until dawn. Even though I was a bit hesitant, I figured I should attend to fully experience a St. Lucian Christmas. My friend and I got there around 12:30am and danced a bit. My personality isn’t one that typically enjoys massive groups of people, extremely provocative dancing, and drinking, but I was trying to keep an open mind and was having an ok time. As the night went on, however, I got bothered by the party environment and started thinking about how I had typically spent Christmas Eves of past. In the midst of thinking about family, friends, etc., my mind began to contemplate whether this massive party was how Jesus would have wanted his birth to be celebrated. I began to think to myself of course not, and honestly felt a bit disgusted by some of the behavior I was seeing. At the same time I felt bad because I felt as though I was in part judging the cultural tradition, which I didn’t think was the right thing to do. Two words…culture shock.

Christmas day was much more enjoyable though. After getting two hours of sleep, I went to church and then went with my friend Vincent from house to house for the remainder of the afternoon. Going to house to house is another aspect of the St. Lucian Christmas tradition, where on Christmas people go and visit friends, neighbors, and family and are welcomed in, offered food (lot of pork…I don’t think I’ve seen so many pigs strung up), drinks, etc. This tradition is dying out, but Vincent and I decided we would try and revive it.

So I’m pleased to note that since my horrific mouse experience I have caught another mouse on my recycled glue trap. It wasn’t all in vain…

Cooking with Ben! This recipe for Creole bread is to die for!

3 cups flour

1.5 cups whole wheat flour

1 tbsp. yeast

¾ cup of butter

½ cup brown sugar

1.25 cups of cold water

Mix the flour, sugar, and yeast together. Cut in the butter. Add the water gradually and knead until dough is soft and round. Let rise for 1 hour. Bake at 375 degrees for appx. 40 minutes.

Earthquake

So I experienced my first sizeable earthquake ever last week. It was the largest St. Lucia has had in roughly 20 years (7.4 on the Richter scale), and affected a good portion of the Caribbean. Nobody died, but houses noticeably shook for a good 10-15 seconds. It didn’t do any damage to my house, but some people had cracks in their houses, lost things off the walls, etc. Personally, at first I was just plain confused at what was going on, but after I realized what was happening I thought it was kind of exciting. Some people seriously thought it was the end of the world.

Embarrassing Mouse Story

Disclaimer: All animal activists should refrain from reading the following, as the contents might cause mild distress

It all started when I woke up one bright Sunday morning from a glorious night of rest, ready to leisurely make some French toast and eventually head off to church. I walked into the bathroom and something under the sink immediately caught my eye. As I eyed the contraption on the floor I was reminded that the day before I had decided my house would no longer serve as the play area for local mice. I was through chasing the little punks around trying to throw washing buckets on top of them to no avail. I had bought mouse traps from the store. Not the old-fashioned mouse traps either, the hardcore glue kind. No more games.

As I moved closer to the trap I spotted not one but two mice stuck to the trap. Score! I then progressed into the kitchen to check the other trap next to the stove. That one also had caught a little twerp. I then proceeded to ponder what the best course of action to take next was. Should I just throw away traps and mice together, leaving the critters to slowly starve? Or, should I humanely try and end their misery? I decided that the best course of action was, as terrible as it sounds, to try and stab the little critters to finish them off. After half-heartedly stabbing one of them a couple of times and not succeeding in killing him, I realized that I was just adding to its misery and that I didn’t have enough rage in me to continually stab him over and over. In all of my Peace Corps thriftiness, I then stupidly decided to salvage the trap with one mouse on it by prying the sucker off of it. Why not use at least one of the traps again, right? After all, doesn’t catching three mice indicate the potential presence of more scurrying about? Even though this proved a challenging feat, I somehow managed to pry the little critter completely off of the trap.

Now, the next step was to walk him far from the house and release him back into the wild, half covered in glue. This is where things get really sticky. My attempt to throw him off of the paper towel I was holding him with failed miserably, and the little beast ended up swinging back and landing on my arm, sticky side down. As I realized that shaking my arm was not going to solve the problem at hand, I started to freak out just a bit. I’m not terrified of mice, but when an angry, half-dead mouse was glued to my arm and wasn’t coming off, I started to get a bit agitated. I ended up ripping the critter off, along with a bit of arm hair.

The rest of the story involves a good deal of time spent uselessly trying to wash the stickiest glue imaginable off of my arm, as well as a walk of shame down to ask my host-parents for paint thinner (to assist in getting the glue off). They didn’t have any…

Volunteer Work at the School

Work at the school has been going alright lately, but I do at times feel like my contributions are minimal. The discipline issue continues to be a challenge, and sometime I feel like I’m doing more monitoring in classes than real teaching. Next term I plan to refine my involvement in the school, however, so I think it should get better next term. The school has a bunch of unused recorders, so I’ve been teaching myself to play it and will start up a music program. I also plan to start up a before or after school reading/math program and hopefully will recruit some of the older youth to help out.

Challenges in Development Work

Development here is quite a process. I’ve been working with the Development Committee here in Fond St. Jacques and just arranging a meeting for members of the group took over a month. There are a couple handfuls of very involved people in the community, but they are so busy serving on each and every committee, as well as having busy professional and personal lives, that they don’t have time to do arrange all of the development projects. We’re currently in the process of coming up with a new constitution and trying to get members from other community based organizations to serve on the committee.

Raining Cats and Dogs

So they weren’t joking around when they decided to call the period from June to November the “rainy season.” The amount of rain that we’ve been getting here these past few weeks is unreal. It’s so unpredictable too. One sunny day as I was hanging my clothes on the line to dry, thinking to myself “great, these will be dry in no time!”, it starts pouring rain. “Eh eh” I thought, annoyed as I look up at the quickly changing sky. One thing I’ve learned is to always keep an umbrella close at hand, because you never know when a torrential downpour is headed your way.

What’s Privacy?

So I’ve pretty much renounced any sense of privacy. One night I was making a pizza and one of the neighborhood kids came by. I reluctantly let him come in and help make pizza. After it was cooked I gave him a couple pieces and he went home for the night. A couple days later a whole mob of boys comes to my house insisting to make a pizza. A few days later one of the teachers at the school asks me how cooking has been going and adds that he’s heard I’m quite the fan of pizza. Since I’ve allowed one kid into my house I’ve had to be very direct about setting boundaries, as I don’t want my house transformed into Fond St. Jacques’ first zoo. For awhile, the same group of kids kept coming over every night at the most inconvenient times (e.g., while I was cooking, right when I got home), expecting me to let them come and just hang out, watch TV, etc. I had to clearly explain that my home is not the local hangout and that I also don’t have enough food to cook for all the kids in the community. I’ve since worked out a reasonable compromise with them that has worked well so far. They are welcome to come over to my house if the time is spent reading. I have a few children’s books and got a few more from the library in town. I’m pleasantly surprised how well they’ve responded to it. Learning to read is one of the challenges that many of the kids here face. It seems that oftentimes they memorize words but haven’t developed phonemic awareness, and thus have trouble sounding out unfamiliar words.

Ant Invasion

So the mosquito situation hasn’t been as bad here as it was during training, but ants occasionally invade with full force. As much as I try to be very clean and dispose of every crumb and granule of sugar, sometimes when I wake up and walk into the kitchen I feel like I’m in the middle of Alfred Hitchcock’s movie Ants! Or maybe his movie was Birds. Anyway, you get the picture. Until I saw how attracted ants are to sugar I thought my sweet tooth was unrivaled, but now I’m not so sure.

Mwen pa pyes touris

One difficulty I’ve faced since being here has been distinguishing myself from the tourist crowd. It hasn’t been too much of a problem in my community, but when I go into Soufriere to buy groceries taxis ask me if I need a ride, people beg for money, etc. I feel torn because part of me wants to give some of them a bit of money, but at the same time I don’t want to set a precedent, especially since word travels fast, and I don’t actually have a ton to give anyway. Anse Chastenet, one of the top hotels in the world, where guests pay $1000 plus a night, is within walking distance of town. Jalousie, voted the world’s most romantic hotel, is also close by. I’ve started saying “mwen pa pyes touris” (I’m not just a tourist) to some of them, and that seems to detract them from persisting.

At the same time, there are occasions when acting like a tourist has its benefits. Some friends and I went to the beach at Anse Chastenet (the hotel) to do some snorkeling. I am pleased to say that I successfully managed to beat the system and sit in the “hotel only” lounge chairs under the shaded umbrellas without getting asked to leave. Usually every time I try and do something slick I end up getting caught, but fortunately a female PCV friend of mine was with me so we blended in with all the honeymooners.

Thanksgiving

Even though it was very strange to experience Thanksgiving in a tropical climate, and it felt nothing at all like it, it was quite an enjoyable time. All the PCVs got together for a spectacular Thanksgiving feast, which included three turkeys, creamed corn, mashed potatoes, pie, cobbler, and all those other wonderful foods. I anticipate Christmas feeling even stranger. I have spent Thanksgiving away from family for a few years now, but Christmas has always been spent in relative cold Kansas with family.

So even though I’m on a small island in the middle of the Eastern Caribbean, far from my land-locked home-land, I have still managed to find an abundance of connections to my glorious home state of Kansas. I met a fellow PCV from Kansas who just finished her service and is heading back to Kansas City after a post Peace Corps trip to Italy. Also, the current priest in the Catholic Church is moving to Dodge City, Kansas (slaughter house city!). Finally, I spotted a not so inconspicuous white couple in church a few weeks ago, and come to find out they had just gotten married in Kansas and were here in St. Lucia on their honeymoon. Yes, I’m certainly not in Kansas anymore, but at times I start to wonder…

So if you didn’t have the chance to look at my pictures online, you might not have found out that I got a dog. His name is Bojangles (what else would it be?) and he’s quite the character. He’s a couple of months old and has just successfully learned to sit. He’s a frisky ankle-biter, but he keeps me company and makes sure there’s never a dull moment. Here pets are treated quite a bit differently than in the States though…no little doggie treats, fancy food, bringing them inside, etc. Quite a few seem to be strays and are fed chiefly table scraps. People largely seem to be afraid of dogs, I think because many are raised to be guard dogs and bite.

Speaking of pets, I sometimes feel like the local dog when at the primary school, because quite a few of the kids come up and “pet” me. Every day at least a few of them come up and rub my head or arm hair. Their hair obviously has a different texture and arm hair doesn’t really exist here, so I suppose they’re curious what it feels like. I don’t really mind at all, but it’s a bit awkward when someone you don’t know just comes up and starts rubbing you.

So playing the violin has turned out to be a great way for me to become more visible in the community and has opened quite a few doors. I volunteered to play a traditional folk Creole song I had learned at a beauty pageant fundraiser for Creole day, which was based in Fond St. Jacques. For the pageant 5 older ladies wore traditional Creole cloths, danced to folk music, etc., and musical and dance acts were scattered throughout the show. I think that people were surprised that I was able to play a Creole song, and so it was well received (I got an encore!). Since then, I’ve had the opportunity to play with a traditional drumming group while walking alongside people pulling a giant log from the rainforest (another traditional Creole activity…they use it to make a boat), with the church choir, and for 3 schools in the area. I hope to keep playing with the church choir and also join the drumming group. Many people have also expressed interest in learning the violin, so I’ve just now worked out a schedule for giving lessons starting next week. I’m very thankful that I decided to bring down my violin and I look forward to seeing where it takes me.

Working in the school has proved to be a challenging, frustrating, yet rewarding experience. Part of the difficulty stems from the fact that corporal punishment is used here as the primary disciplinary measure. I don’t personally feel comfortable using the same methods, but that’s what the children have come to respond to. Consequently, the kids don’t really respond much to just a loud tone of voice, and so it’s hard to keep the kids under control when in large groups. At the same time, however, I’ve enjoyed helping a small group of 5th graders with reading and the 3rd graders with Math.

When I first starting thinking about doing the Peace Corps, I envisioned living in a hut, cooking rice and beans every night, and having virtually no connection to the wider world. My living situation, however, has proven to be very different than what I had imagined. Instead of a hut I’ve got a house with ample space, instead of rice and beans I can cook most things available in the States, and instead of not having any clue about what’s going on in the wider world I’ve got American cable TV. At first I thought to myself, am I really in the Peace Corps? Isn’t part of the Peace Corps experience supposed to be all about living simply and not having all the luxuries available in the States? I’ve come to the conclusion, however, that even though I have some of the physical comforts that might not be available to most PCVs in other countries, the core of the experience, which includes fitting into a place where you’re obviously an outsider, adapting to an unstructured environment, and figuring out where and how best to help out, is the same.

I’ve been going into town once a week for tutoring in Patois (Creole) with a fellow PCV. It’s coming along, but I find that people speak so fast here in Creole that it’s hard to pick out individual words and make any sense of it. I’ve been enjoying learning more of it though, and enjoy the laughter that usually follows when I bust out a line or two of Patois.

So Lucians have certain mannerisms that I find quite amusing and enjoy imitating, especially when in the presence of other PCVs. The first is a verbal "eh eh?" in response to a statement that someone doesn't necessarily agree with or questions. It can also be used when someone is just annoyed with somebody else. It's hard to truly capture it's hilarity in writing, because there's so much attitude put into the "eh eh?" The other notable Lucian mannerism is the lip smack, which like the "eh eh?", is used when someone is annoyed with someone else or thinks that what the person said is crazy. In fact, the two are often used in combination, with an "eh eh?" followed by a lip smack. I personally am a big fan and am still working on perfecting my lip smack... :)

Sorry I’ve been a putz about posting stuff these past few weeks. Internet access has been sparse, but now that everyone is settled into their own places, I should be able to mooch off a friend not too far away who has access in her house. Anyway, here’s a little info about my pad, the community, and other fun stuff.

Settling In

So after living with 3 host families in different communities, I’ve finally just this week moved into my permanent residence in Fond St. Jacques, a 2 bedroom house (enough room for visitors!). It’s cozy, but definitely has more than enough space for me. Having never lived alone before, I’m excited for this new experience and hopefully won’t die of malnutrition because of my lack of ability to cook much of anything besides cookies and German chocolate cake. J Side note – I wrote this part of my post a few days back and have since successfully cooked curried chicken with rice, pizza, cornbread, and of course, cookies. Yay for the Peace Corps cookbook.

The Community

I couldn’t have asked for a better environment to live in for the next two years. My community is very close to a protected rainforest, so it’s lush and green because of the abundant rainfall. It’s set in a valley with small mountains surrounding it, so there are plenty of gorgeous places to hike. There are a few waterfalls nearby, a couple of which allow for a bit of swimming. Soufriere, a city right on the coast, is about 3 miles away and has a nice beach as well as grocery stores, etc. I won’t have to make too many trips to the store for fruit and vegetables, however, because between my place and my neighbors there are oranges, grapefruits, limes, sugar cane, avocadoes, cocoa beans, dasheen (kind of like a potato), and plantains. To top things off, on the backside of one of the mountains behind my house is an active volcano; if that thing blows, I’d face a fate similar to that of a chicken walking into Bojangles (who wanted extra crispy?). Speaking of natural disasters, in the middle of the night last week we apparently had an earthquake registering just around a 5. It didn’t cause any damage, but shook things up a bit…not too much though, because I didn’t even wake up (darn!)

Who’s the White Guy?

I’ve really enjoyed getting to know people in the community. At first some people looked at me strangely and asked if I needed directions, but after telling them who I was staying with (everyone knows everyone…literally), people were very friendly and curious about where I’m from, what I’ll be doing in the community, etc. Meeting so many people and having the same conversation over and over again was tiring though. I think that when I’m placed in new situations where I’m not completely comfortable I tend to be naturally introverted, so forcing myself to be extroverted and sociable day in and day out was draining. Now that I’ve gotten settled down and don’t have to explain quite as much to people since most of them know who I am even if I’ve never met them (news travels fast), I’m not as tired. My neighbors are very friendly and are nearly all related. My landlord’s mother had 19 children, and is currently alive and kickin’ at the age of 105.

A Honking Culture

I think I mentioned the public transportation bus system in a previous post, but I don’t think I mentioned the element of honking. Unlike in the States, where it seems that honking is utilized almost exclusively in a negative context, here the horn has many purposes. Yes, it’s still used in the “get the heck out of my way” context, but people also honk in quite a few other situations. If a bus speeds by another vehicle it honks, just to let the other vehicle know it’s there and is passing it. A lot of drivers know each other and some buses even have clever names written on them (i.e. Rush Hour), so they’ll also honk as they drive past one another. The roads here are oftentimes narrow and windy, especially on the west coast where I’m at, so oftentimes buses just honk around turns to let cars they could potentially run into know they’re coming. And lastly, people sometimes honk at people they know or their friends’ or families’ houses as they speed by just to say hello (they don’t stop though). My most recent host mom is especially cautious driving on the particularly windy road from our community down to Soufriere. Most drivers just give a little beep beep around turns, but she lays it on hard around every turn. So, between all the windy turns and people she knows in the community, she’s pretty much laying on the horn the majority of the drive. I think she might have replaced the rooster as Fond St. Jacques’ official wake-up call every Saturday morning on her way down to the market.

Church

The majority of people who are religious here are Catholic. Despite not being Catholic, I’ve been going to mass with my host family the past few weeks. Although it’s kind of awkward not knowing the prayers or participating in communion since I’m not confirmed, I have enjoyed the messages and the worship. The worship is plugged in with electric guitars, keyboard, etc. and incorporates the Caribbean reggae flavor into traditional hymns, which is really cool. I plan to keep attending the services while I’m here and hopefully might be able to eventually play my violin with the worship team.

Country Western Music

While on the topic of music, I forgot to mention in the music section of my last post that in addition to the reggae, calypso, folk, and hip hop, country western music is extremely popular. Who would’ve thought? Now it’s important to note that I’m not referring to modern country music like Garth Brooks or Kenny Chesney, popular artists in the States. We’re talking old school twangy country from decades ago. I honestly don’t understand how it could have infiltrated this wonderful country, but nevertheless it’s here, and in full force.

My Community Involvement

So you might be wondering what I’m doing now that I’m done with training and am in my community. Well, during the first 3 months we’re supposed to focus on integrating, so they discourage us from jumping off the deep end and starting major projects right off the bat. The Fond St. Jacques Development Committee requested a PCV, so they’re my base from which to start. I’ve met quite a few “stakeholders” in the community…principal of the school, leaders of groups, etc. and have been gathering information about assets, areas for improvement, etc. The Development Committee is hoping that I can develop some programs for youth (ages 15-35). The concept of youth is obviously different here. Young adults don’t simply move out when they’re 18, as in the States, but rather live with their families much longer. It’s more convenient and oftentimes they don’t have the financial means to move elsewhere. I think that because people aren’t individually established until a later age, youth therefore encompasses a larger age range. Anyway, so I might be working on developing more activities to engage the youth of the community, as football (soccer) is the only main activity, and isn’t extremely organized. I’ll also very likely teach some violin lessons, which I’m obviously excited about. An Irish guy donated 4 violins to the secondary school some time ago, but they haven’t really been used much. The violin is part of traditional folk music, but it seems to be a dying art and very few people know how to play it. In addition to giving lessons to a few students from the school as well as a teacher, I hope to also write out a music book of traditional folk songs.

Working at the School

Starting this next week I’ll be helping out in the primary school for a few hours each day in different classes so I can get to know the staff and students. All of the little kids I see always say “hi Mr. Ben,” but I swear I haven’t met ¾ of them…so I’m hoping that will change. I’ll be working primarily with the kindergarten class, as there are 35 students under 1 lucky teacher. I’ll also be helping out the 3rd grade teacher with teaching some basic Math. I won’t be working as extensively in the school for the entire 2 years as I will be for this first few months, but I thought it would be a great avenue to get to know the kids in the community (outside of attempting to play football), and the teachers are more than happy to have the help.

Are You Married?

So after talking with people for a minute or two they oftentimes ask whether I’m married and have kids in the States. At first I thought it was kind of funny and odd that they wouldn’t think it a bit strange for me to leave a wife and kids in the States for a couple of years and jet off to the Caribbean, but then it started to make sense, because many people here have family members who are in England, the US, or Canada for work.

American Culture in the Caribbean

So I’ve noticed that people here, especially kids, are fascinated by American culture and think acting American is really cool. One night I told my host mom I was going to make a grilled cheese. She wasn’t familiar with the popular American dish and so I explained how it works. I then realized that we only had round rolls and were lacking any sort of flat bread, so it wouldn’t work. After establishing the fact that grilled cheese wasn’t meant to be that night and conveying that to my host mother, I decided to cook some eggs. A little while later, I noticed that my host brother had heavily buttered the inside of several rolls, had put cheese in them, and had smashed the rolls in the George Foreman grille. Needless to say, it didn’t work out so well. We got some sliced bread the next day though and got things squared away.

I hope to post some pictures soon of the area so you can get a better idea of what the environemtn actually looks like. Peace!

Alrighty, so I finally have a permanent address and a cell phone, which I'm still trying to figure out how to use. :) My address is:

Ben Wiechman

Fond St. Jacques Post Office

Soufriere

St. Lucia

West Indies

My cell phone number is 758-285-6813.

I don't have time to write now because about 10 people are in line to use the computer, but things are generally going well so far. I find myself exhausted at the end of the day, but the place is beautiful and people have been very friendly. Peace!

In two days I'll be moving to Fond St. Jacques, a small rural community of about 1,000 people (150,000 on the whole island) in the rainforest of St. Lucia. Yesterday I had the chance to meet with a member of the developmental organization that I'll be partnered with. He was very friendly and has had experience working with Peace Corps volunteers in the past. After many weeks of uncertainty about what our future work will look like, the opportunity to talk with someone from our future communities put many of the PCTs' minds, including my own, a little more at ease. I found the picture on the left from google images of Fond St. Jacques, so it'll probably look something like that. I was excited to find out that there are some opportunities for hiking in the area and that there are a couple of famous waterfalls nearby. Even more thrilling, however, is the fact that Fond St. Jacques can get a little bit cooler than other places on the island, given that it's in the mountains. My community partner said that sometimes he feels the need for a light blanket at night...maybe that means I'll sleep with the fan a whole foot away from my bed instead of directly on my head. :)

I'm writing this partly because I most likely will not have internet access in my community. I originally thought that I would have internet, as most PCVs do, but Fond St. Jacques is enough inland that landlines aren't even readily available. Wireless internet might be a possibility, but I don't know how feasible that is. One of my good friends lives about three miles away though in a larger city, so hopefully I'll be able to visit her on occasion and use her internet. I will have a cell phone starting here in a few weeks though. I find this particularly ironic, given that I didn't actually ever have one in the States. Join the Peace Corps, finally get a cell phone. check. Many people opt not to get a landline though, so everyone has cell phones, even my 13 year old host brother. It's kind of weird because in some respects St. Lucia is very developed (i.e. everyone has cell phones), but at the same time other areas lag far behind (i.e. access to water...sometimes it's randomly turned off, and apparently during the dry season sometimes for several days at a time).

St. Lucia, and the Eastern Caribbean in general, has it's own unique sense of time (or lack thereof). If a meeting is "scheduled" for 7, nobody will show up til at least 7:30...probably 8. It's just the way it is. The phrase "just now" is very popular and means "wait." I've found though that the "now" part of "just now" really translates to anywhere from 5 minutes from now to never. Even though at times this can be a little frustrating, it's kind of nice to break free from the routinistic schedule that is so prevalent in the U.S. It's especially strange having just graduated from college, where it seemed like nearly every single moment of every day was planned out. In college you would even have to plan time around your hectic schedule to hang out with friends. Here you just hang out when you want to.

I can't wait to see my community here in a couple of days, and hopefully next time will have some more information about my community, as well as a few pictures. Peace!

Hurricane Dean

So, just in case you were wondering, I'm not somwhere in the middle of the Caribbean Sea floating on the dessimated remains of my previous host family's house. Even though Hurricane Dean pretty much went right through Saint Lucia, it fortunately was only a category 2 storm when it reached us (instead of a 4 or 5, which it became soon afterwards). It was still pretty intense though, with 100 mph+ winds and certainly no shortage of rain. The Northern part of the island was hit the hardest, with power lines down, trees strewn across roads, and flooding, while my community had minimal flooding and only had to deal with a short couple of days without water. Now that's out of the way, there's much more news to share.

Grand Piton Hiking Trip

I mentioned a trip to the Pitons in my last post. To expand a bit, some fellow Peace Corps Trainees (PCTs) and myself traveled to Grand Piton, one of the tallest mountains on the island, for a hiking trip a few weekends back. The hike was great with very scenic views of the island. Even though it was only a couple of hours up, it was an intense hike and incredibly steep towards the top. I don't think I've sweat so much in my entire life! Let's just say you know it's hot when you spot a dog indefinitely lying (but not dead) in the middle of a creek to cool off. We went to the beach in Soufriere afterwards which was very refreshing, and some local kids showed us a nice spot for some cliff jumping.

Sulfur Springs

Ok, so I've got to mention just one more touristy thing I did with my host family before getting back to business with how PC training has been going. My host dad took my host sister PCT Kit and I to the Caribbean's only drive-in volcano (not inactive, but it's not blowing it's top off tomorrow). Near the volcano are a bunch of Sulfur Springs that serve as a public bath. It's supposed to be really good for the skin, kind of like the water in the Dead Sea. We all coveredourselves in mud and bathed in the ridiculously hot water. You're supposed to go around 6am when the water isn't scorching hot, but 1pm works too... :)

Training

Ok, so back to PC stuff. We've just moved into phase 2 of training. 13 of the 70 PCTs were assigned to stay on Saint Lucia, and we've all moved into a new community with new host families. The training has been tiring, but I've really enjoyed learning more about the culture and some Creole. I accidentally told the language instructor to "Give me shit" instead of "Give me a dog" today though, so I'm obviously far from mastery. We're really just learning the basics right now though, which is important in establishing ourselves as not simply being tourists.

Back to the host family. As with my 1st host family, I'm having a great time with this one. They're really friendly and we've had some engaging conversations. After implying about the roosters I spotted around the house, I soon found out that my host dad raises them for cock fights. I told him that my only exposure to cock fights comes from an episode of the TV show Seinfeld, in which Kramer raises "Little Jerry Seinfeld" to fight in the big leagues. He was familiar with the show and thought that was pretty funny. I soon learned that even though it's illegal, it's very popoular (especially ironically enough among police officers). My host dad even showed me a little demonstration cock fight when we visited his friends up in a small rural community. I must say that I'm not pro cock fights, but I did find it fascinating to learn about the subculture, how they train their roosters, etc. I never realized how popular it was and how seriously people take it as a sport. Let's just say that they take their cock fighting nearly as seriously as I take my blueberries. Enough said...

Jam Session with the Locals

So I officially lived up the the name of my blog - "Benjammin' in the Caribbean" - with my first jam session with the locals. My host grandfather coincidentally is the only person in this district who knows how to play the violin. He has his own CD, is very well known, and oftentimes plays at dances and festivals around the island. I actually brought my violin down, so my host mom took me to meet him and he taught me how to play a traditional St. Lucian song. Afterwards, he strung his banjo (using fishing line) and also brought out a hand drum and one of the shaker things. We all played the song that he had just taught me, which actually sounded pretty cool. It was so much fun and I hope to play with him again and learn more of the local music. After people found out that I could play, they were asking me to play all these random songs (mainly hip-hop music). Yeah, I don't think that was really covered very thoroughly in Suzuki. I did manage to figure out how to play the chorus to "Beautiful Girl" though, which is probably the most popular song down here at the moment. Besides the influence of American hip-hop on the music scene, they also have some reggae and calypso music too, which is big.

My Permanent Community Assignment

After waiting in eager anticipation to find out which community in St. Lucia I'll be permanently stationed in, I finally found out that I'll be staying in Fond St. Jacques, a small rural community high in the mountains near the west coast. Even though it would be nice to be really close to the water, I'm so glad that I'm deep in the rainforest and up high. Soufriere, a larger coastal town, is fairly close by (within 10 minutes by bus), and only of my good friends will live there. I won't know exactly what I'll be doing until I move there, get integrated into the community, and see where I best fit in, but it sounds like there has been some expressed need to develop programs for at-risk youth. If I've learned one thing so far from my training, however, it's to be flexible and patient, so we'll wait and see what actually happens.

Brief History of St. Lucia

St. Lucia, the Sunshine Isle, has a rich history and has been referenced as the Helen of the West Indies. After it was discovered by Columbus, it was constantly fought for because of its strategic position relative to the sugar islands of Martinique and Barbados. It traded hands 14 times between Britain and France before the British eventually gained long term control. The British then brought over many African people as slaves to work the land. Taking cue from those who were involved in the French Revolution, a group of St. Lucians called the Brigons began to revolt against slavery, although they evenutally had to surrender. After slavery was abolished in the early to mid 19th century, the British then started bringing over poeple from Asia under indentured-servant contracts. It's therefore a culturally rich place because of people having been brought over from a wide range of places, and because of the major British and French influence.

Economy

For awhile now St. Lucia has been operating as a single cash crop society with bananas as their chief export. With liberalization of the market, however, the World Trade Organization (WTO) has changed its policies, ending its preferential treatment of smaller nations like St. Lucia, essentially leaving them high and dry without a way to compete on the world market. And, while the diversification of agricultural products is needed, it sounds like famers largely stick to what they know, even though it's not paying off anymore.

Alrighty, I'm hoping to send out an email for pictures soon. Hope all is well with you guys!

So, I've been in training for a little over a week and just found out a few days ago that I'll be permanently stationed in St. Lucia for my Peace Corps service! Even though it would have been great to travel to another island in the Eastern Caribbean, I feel comfortable here on St. Lucia and am excited to try and learn a new language (Creole), explore the many hiking trails and beaches, and most importantly get settled and integrated into a community.

So the St. Lucian people I've met so far are probably the most hospitable, welcoming, and friendly people I've ever met. I've really enjoyed my host family, especially my 6 year old, energetic host-brother Gus, who's really going on 27. Even though my host family only consists of my mom, dad, two brothers, and grandparents, people I don't even know are constantly in and out of our house...neighbors, cousins, aunts, etc; it seems like everyone is related (and in many cases, they are). As we ride in the back of the truck, my host mom calls out to people's houses as we drive by, and they respond from inside with a hello.

On the other hand, here are some slightly unpleasant things about my experience so far...

-40 plus mosquito bites on my ankles and arms (fresh blood!)

-crazy intense humidity and heat...gotta love sleeping in your own sweat. Where are the sub zero temperatures of Vermont when you need them?!? :)

Some things I've come to appreciate...

-really cold showers; it's seriously probably the highlight of every day

-saying hi to everyone you pass on the street

-fresh fruits (especially mangos)

-dental floss ( to get the stringingess of the mangos out of your teeth)

Some things I never expected to be doing...

-watching WWE wrestling and kung fu with my host grandmother...she gets really into it

-whistling along to American pop ballads (e.g., Celine Dion) as my host mom sings along

-watching geckos crawl across the ceiling (so cool! they eat the mosquitos!)

-waking up to the sound of roosters each morning around 5:30 or 6...something that mysteriously never happened in Kansas...

-watching cartoon network with my host brother as hip-hop music plays in the background

My Peace Corps training has been going pretty well so far...some days are pretty tiring, but all in all it has been good. We've been learning quite a bit about the asset-based approach to community development, which basically relies on strengths and resources from within the community to bring about sustainable change. It also focuses heavily on developing projects that stem from needs expressed by the community, ultimately promoting ownership (and thus sustainability). I think that when I'm put in my community that I will most likely be essentially left to my own devices when it comes to assessing where I see a need, but I'm becoming more comfortable with that idea as training progresses.

Well, I'm here in an internet cafe and have to run now, but I'll write more about the country of St. Lucia, what's going on here economically, and a hiking trip I took to the Grand Pitons (hopefully with a few pictures) when I get the chance. Peace!

So after two days of training in Miami I’ve finally arrived here in the gorgeous island of St. Lucia. It has been great to meet so many other people who are just as eager, nervous, excited, and clueless as I am. Orientation was jam-packed with lots of information, but ultimately I think it was helpful in preparing us for this initial phase of training. One of the highlights from Orientation was a poem/rap that some volunteers and I wrote for a performance on becoming integrated into a community. Just imagine the white kid from KS (bojangles!), a 65 year old woman, and some other atypical rapsters bustin' out the following...

July 26th, an auspicious date

For we must learn to integrate

Into this Caribbean state

But first…contemplate

Integrate, integrate, it’ll be great to integrate

Just take it day by day

‘Cause you know, persistence will pay

Culture shock will go away

And 6 G’s, they’re sure to pay

Integrate, integrate, it’ll be great to integrate

We must remember to stay cool

Learn their ways, don’t act a fool

All work towards the golden rule

To exemplify and maintain the stool.

Pretty cheesy I know, but a lot of fun to come up with in 15 minutes. Oh, and the “stool” reference is an inside joke (a labeled picture of a stool was used to describe what processes are involved in integration…)

This evening those of us who weren't extremely tired (or just too giddy to notice it) walked to the local beach. Walking barefoot in the sand of the warm, blue sea and seeing the lush, green mountains of the island definitely made the 4:30am wake-up time this morning well worth it. Later on there was a big welcome dinner with lots of different types of Caribbean food. I’m happy to say that I loved everything, from the fish to the rice (with some really good seasonings) to the guava/papaya juice.

I’m really excited that tomorrow I’ll meet my homestay family for the next three weeks. On Thursday (sooner than I expected), I’ll find out which island I’ll be stationed on for the next 2 years. Needless to say, I’m anxious to find out.

All in all I’m doing well…kind of physically tired and emotionally drained after all the travel, excitement, and crazy sleeping schedule, but at the same time mysteriously energized. Well, I don’t have time to write much more now, but I wanted to post something while I'm here in the hotel and have internet access. I’ll hopefully write more and post some pictures sometime soon!

Well, in just over a week I’ll be moving from probably the most land-locked state in the nation to a tiny island in the middle of the Eastern Caribbean. Nervous? Yes. Excited? Heck yeah.

Since I’ve been home in good ole Kansas and have told people who’ve asked about my life’s direction (ahh!) that I’ll be joining the Peace Corps, most everyone responds with a “wow, that’s really great” or some other answer of approval. The next question they ask is inevitably “where are you headed?” After telling people the Eastern Caribbean, I most oftentimes get a “whoa, that’ll be a nice vacation!,” or “Beach Corps…sweet!” (I really like that one…:)). Even though I’m thrilled about the opportunity to play Gilligan for two years living in a tropical paradise, I know that my time in the Peace Corps will be no vacation. From what I’ve heard from people who have served in the Eastern Caribbean and elsewhere, the Peace Corps certainly comes with its fair share of challenges: loneliness, feeling worthless at times, culture shock, etc. So, while I am really excited about having the chance to experience probably one of the most beautiful places in the world (all those cruise ships don’t go there for nothing), I must admit I’m also a bit ambivalent about what lies ahead.

I think this ambivalence is rooted in the fact that I still don’t really have a clear idea of what I’ll be doing while I’m down there. Based on the information I was given, I could be helping an established organization better meet the needs of the people, trying to improve different social or health services, or a number of other things. I suppose they would be contradicting the very nature of “community development” if they got much more specific. I’ve been corresponding with a guy down on St. Vincent and the Grenadines and have asked him some questions about his experience so far. His response to whether or not after the training period he felt adequately prepared to do his job and had a clear idea of what that entailed was, “I pretty much got dropped off.” Although some people do get placed with organizations, he was essentially left to his own devices when it came to assessing how to help the community. His first couple of months were therefore really difficult as he wasn’t sure what to do or how to go about helping. Yeah sure, I kind of hoped for a slightly more pleasant answer, but I’m glad that he was honest about his challenges and doubts. I still hope to have at least a bit more of a framework from which to start though…

Even though the uncertainty of what awaits me makes me a bit nervous, I’m excited to be stretched and challenged. After all, I didn’t sign up thinking it would be a vacation and would be pretty disappointed if that’s merely what it turned out to be. I trust that I’m going there for a reason, that God will encourage and teach me through the challenging and lonely times, and that ultimately what I learn from my experiences will be invaluable.

In the meantime, it’s back to eating blueberries and hoping they’re in plentiful supply down there. :)