Somewhere between an orange and maroon colored fall and a tropical blue summertime, my life has done another revolution. But it didn’t end up at the same place. It is as if the revolution grew in size, bulging with new tastes and sounds. Pushing at the limits, pockets padded with faces and secret spaces that I alone now have. And I see, without a doubt that this is a sacred life. This new world that I am in, it keeps showing me how downright blessed I am to just take another unlabored breath. Because around me. I have seen death and despair. My friends have been raped and my heart has been broken here. There have been days when I fought to stay right in this world of vulnerability where my only option is to have the most profound faith that we. All ahh we can absolutely be doing much better. That soon others will open their eyes and see that the only thing we need more of in the world. Is. Love. Unconditional love. And as the world opens its eyes there will be a great uprising of peace and friendship. We will be raised up; embracing the soul within; those beautiful creatures that our destiny lies within. So as I sit here about to start a new day. I can only look up to a God that has once again given me the opportunity to start a new revolution of the mind and I can only pray that it continues to grow in size. That all that I live in the coming year strengthens my conviction that humanity can come together and turn it around. And in unity we will build something beautiful. My most sincere gratitude goes to the people who have made this year so grand most especially… Those who visited, those who befriended me, those who wrote, those who read, those who brought change, those who contributed financially, those who schooled me, those who loved me, those who hosted me, those who held me, those who listened, those who counseled, those who explored the world with me, those who sent care packages, those who donated books and school supplies, those who fed me, those who encouraged me, those who were brave in moments of fear, those who called, those who laughed and those who danced. I am so truly grateful for the many angels of mercy that have restored my faith and brought with your presence the hope of a new day.

It turns out is just life without internet.

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

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

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

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

And not just those that are written to me!

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

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

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

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

Now, I am an advocate for love letters. Especially those written to the people who have caused us heartache. Write one today. You just never know.

Love is the one thing.

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

I have been thinking a lot about the important role that language plays in defining the reality that we, as humans, feel that we exist in. I find this especially challenging working for a development organization where I am constantly navigating the daily experience of living in a country that has significantly different opportunities and resources than my own. When I joined Peace Corps, I used words like “third world, underdeveloped and the ‘right’ way.” The more time that I spend in St. Vincent, the more I feel that these words are subtle judgments that insinuate that there really is a perfect existence that we can create and dwell in, a first (and best) world. Recently, when I saw 15 minutes of CNN while waiting to pay my water bill, I realized that the concept of development has changed for me. The fact that we (the ‘developed’ world) are killing others in the name of democracy and religion or that we are on the edge of another recession with many people carrying excessively more debt than they will ever be able to repay or that our political leaders are not using the most basic common sense and there is more coverage over a man’s internet escapades than the huge challenges that face creation at this point in time seems downright primitive (to me). I believe that we can only be what we tell ourselves to be so if, as CNN would report, we are a world of violence and politics, then it could be assumed that we can only create a future world with more inhumanity and divide. I often wonder if we started to tell ourselves a different story about what is happening in the world or maybe just a more balanced story, would it be possible to change the world. I am not trying to advocate for ignorance but rather a less judgmental and fear-inspiring language that might possibly be able to give birth to hope. And in that hope, we might be able to work to create a world where humanity is truly developed. All of us could be fully developed into mature, loving individuals that embrace differences and work every day to ensure that every person has enough to make it through their years on earth without unnecessary pain and suffering. Surely this task alone would keep all of us very busy. I guess, regardless of what I think or hope, I do not have much sway in the world and probably will never be able to convince CNN to change their business model to one that inspires more compassion than fear. Since, I can only stand within my own power, I will share a story of a friend of mine in Layou. I hope that maybe, by sharing my story, it will inspire others to share theirs. I know, without a doubt, that there are things happening in the world that serve as reminders that we are all a part of this great human race and despite colors and language and dress and religion, at our most primitive level, we just want to connect and feel loved. Maybe if we could realize that on a more regular basis, we would stop all of the nonsense and come together because there are those who are hurting among us and everyone could use another friend. There is a man in Layou who moves things. Poor Me is his name. He will come and get your gas tank when it runs out. He brings beer to the rum shops and soda to the grocery store. He walks faster than anyone I know and is always pushing around a large load. He cannot possibly weigh more than 100 pounds. He is always friendly and wearing a smile with his oversized clothes. There is a man in Layou who moved me. Samuel is his name. The first time I got to know him was when my gas ran out. He came to my house and quickly exchanged an old tank for a new one. The second time he came to my house, he taught me how to put the top on the gas canister. Then he made me do it by myself, twice, just to ensure that I really understood. He made me smile and helped me to feel like I could do something that I had never tried before. He always says “Hi.” Last week, he borrowed $20 from me because he said he had gotten in bad with someone and they were chasing him down. Sometimes I see him sitting on the curb with his head low, telling me that his heart went with the Sunset (brand of strong rum). Every day he is my friend and reminds me how I have so much more to learn in the world. Every day he reminds me to teach better and work hard so that children will have more opportunities in the future. There is a man in Layou. I asked him once if I could take his picture. He said, “sure” and looked beautiful for my camera. I told him that I wanted to tell the world how he had helped me. I had the picture printed. Tears rolled down his face when I gave him the picture, it was the first one of himself that he had ever had. I put one up on my wall next to a picture of my family so everyone knows how important he is. I asked him if I could stop calling him Po’ Me and stick to Samuel since I could not see a poor thing about him. In fact he is rich in all of the worldly treasures that I have been searching for; humility, graciousness and kindness. There is a man in my community and he is my teacher. We’ve mastered the gas tank, now we’re moving to bigger things.

When I look into the eyes of our children I see a wide world of opportunity

Others may tell me that they are dotish* or lazy but I refuse to tell myself that the future of mankind is anything short of sweet infinity

and that God, surely, does not place darkness in the heart of us all but rathergives us a birth of imperfect brilliance

So I look into their eyes and mutter to myself,

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

So I turn back to my class and say,

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

And I believe If we just told them how very important they truly are God, yes God, would come knocking for us all.

Let us take precious care of our children. For they are God's promise that heaven lies in the future of the next.

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

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

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

My typical day, well that’s funny to say because since I arrived, every waking moment has brought anything but what can be called typical. So instead of trying in any way to suggest that my experience is par for the course of a Peace Corps volunteer or that I am doing it “right” because I was asked to write this; I have decided to write about what a typical untypical day in the life me, just a regular person who also happens to be a Peace Corps volunteer, is like living on the small island of St. Vincent and the Grenadines. Good days begin early in the morning. If my eyes open at 6am, I have enough time to do laundry by hand, prepare my lessons for school and to listen to all of the latest island tunes. I walk down to school, passing new friends along the way. There are more and more to talk to every day. At school, I take a deep breath and try to help kids believe in themselves. I let them be goofy. I give them hugs. I smile and let them know the world is their oyster. And plenty of days, this simple task seems monumental for that you will quickly see: poverty, injustice, abuse and oppression have created such a grave situation that to even begin to think about turning it around can often times be overwhelming. But don’t worry because despite there being a large task ahead of us, the volunteers, the rest of my day is always filled with more “hellos,” hugs and moments that make you realize how sweet Vincy life is. If I could do it all over again, that is to say if I could have known something prior to arriving on the island, I wish that I had spent time thinking about how I can stand within my own power as a female on this island. The culture can be tough. You will be told that you are sexy and sweet more times than you thought possible. You will be challenged by the school environment and the speed of the vans. The heat can be overwhelming as well as the wash. You will see many familiar things in the stores but will be limited by your living allowance. All of the sudden, the things you took for granted will no longer be available or they will come at a high price. Music here can be loud. Life here can be loud. But amongst all of that noise, I know that if you try, you will find a special kind of peace, one that can only be found when you are forced to join others in community to make existence more bearable. So please, also, prepare yourself to have the time of your life. We are so excited for your arrival. Get ready for the whole experience, it is beautiful. That is the only thing I know for certain. Your next two years as a Peace Corps volunteer can be downright gorgeous if you do it your own way! Please pack all of the things you are good at; there is a place for your skill to be shared on this island.

By Jay Hinton

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

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

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

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

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

By Jennifer Hinton

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

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

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

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

Smithers Island: Noah: "So if you would believe it, my first time to the hospital in St. Vincent was with Noah, the 9 year old volunteer from the Western Carolina G..."

By Molly, A true leader of the heart

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

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

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

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

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

By Kimberly, One Special Young Woman. As a photographer, I have a strange sense of beautiful. Most people see a beach as a beach and nothing special but I take the time to appreciate it and the surrounding objects and the way the light hits it and see it is beautiful, then I try to capture it as best as I possibly can. As I have been in St. Vincent these past couple of days, I’ve wondered why I see beauty in some of the tragic things, like the tin shacks across the street from the ornate houses or the the trash in the streets that no one seems to think twice of or the overall poverty in general. Today, we went to Dark View Falls with several Vincentian men and women and we got to know them a lot. At first, we had the awkward silence of trying to find something to talk about but as we swam at the falls we began to get comfortable with each other. By lunch, we were all having a great time. And as we all got to asking questions about each other’s culture, with questions as strange as “Do you say ‘huh’?” I began to admire the beautiful spirit of these people and then began to understand why I see beauty in so much. I see the spirit in those with large, ornate houses who left their home when they were young to seek opportunity abroad and came back when they were old and successful to make a life for themselves, and those with poor shacks, I see the beautiful resiliency of those who will not quit despite their circumstances. And on the way back to camp, as we rode the bus, they shared their joy with us as we all started standing up and dancing to the music of both of our cultures, having the time of our lives. And despite my strange sense of beautiful, I think everyone was able to see the world as I see it for a moment and agree, that it is, indeed, beautiful.

By Christin Wilson No matter where you are there are a few things that don’t change no matter how far you go from home. If you can find those connections then home really is where the heart is… · Kids are kids, we played, we danced, we sang. · Although it is only our first day we have already been reminded, (while rolling down a hill, or playing a make shift skip it with a branch from a tree) that we were all children once. If we try hard enough then we will find that child that we once were, and I really think that is the first gift that the children of St. Vincent have given the Wesley group. · First impressions last · As soon as we saw natives the whole group yelled “Good morning” and waved and it had the same meaning that it would have if we were walking to class at school. · The sunsets are beautiful · As we set on the hill and looked out over Bequia and Kingston and it was breath taking, as it is when we are sitting on the beach at home. · It’s hot when it’s hot · We were all sitting on a van and I look at the little girl sitting next to me and she says “it’s really hot” and I was thinking “Yess” I’m glad the natives think it’s hot to. There are differences that may give the Wesley group some trouble: like the heavy dialect, the van rides, the dance moves (that the Americans cannot keep us with), and the heat. Those are things that I think that we will learn how to live with in the ten days we are here. While we are constantly remembering that this is not our home, we are also constantly being reminding that this is their home that they are kindly sharing with us for ten days. Yes the life style is different and maybe the way they think and the way they dance. But at the end of the day people are people and if we take the time to make that connection with the people around us then we have no reason to ever feel alone. People like food and good conversation, and when we mix those two things together then it’d be amazing that what we can learn from each other. We could always use a little more love and that’s why the 15 of us are here, to show God’s love in a way that others can feel it. The truth of the matter is that as soon as you give away that kind of love it comes back to you….

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

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

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

Just ROCK!

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

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

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

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

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

Disclaimer: If you choose to read this please go to the end. I come off as hostile and itchy at the beginning but I promise to turn it around by the end. Sometimes, I just have to say what’s on my mind folks. Thanks for loving me as me. S*it ain’t easy Pardon my French but I just want everyone to know that my life ain’t easy. To steal a fellow volunteer’s words, “I dare you” to give up your sweet "developed" world life. I dare you to say goodbye to your friends, family and dog and move to a place where you know not another living soul. Oh, by the way, we are also going to make sure that you stick out like a sore thumb. I dare you to try to have enough faith in your support system back home that they will call you, write you and send you Thai curry and deodorant (thanks sweet Pablo) on a regular basis to ensure that you won’t forget that you are loved. I dare you to put yourself in a position that is in line with most of the world; you won’t make any money, you won’t have much hope, everyday you work your butt off(literally) and never have much to show for it. Then we are going to throw in wrenches like violence against you and your community, words of hatred and modern day oppression. We will send tourist through your town on buses so they can take pictures of you like you are in the zoo, make assumptions about how you live, and also be so afraid of what “you people” might do that they never stop the bus to 1. Ask permission to take your picture and 2. To introduce themselves and develop a friendship. You would think I am joking. Actually, you would probably want to cover my mouth and tell me to go back to telling all of the endearing stories about how your neighbors have you rolling on the ground making Michael Jackson “Thriller” videos on your front porch but you cannot silence me. Those stories are living here too and I am going to keep sharing them but I want to make a stand. I want to tell you why those stories are so valuable to me. Every morning, I find myself opening my eyes again despite sometimes telling God the night before that it would be okay if they never opened up again. Every morning, I unlock my 6 (no joke) different security devices and head down the road to help kids believe in themselves. Every morning, I hold my head high and know that the world does not need me giving up hope. The world does not need to me to shut my eyes. The world needs me to take care. The world needs me to not forget about others. As I write this, I know, more than anything, that “s*it ain’t easy” applies to everyone; regardless of where you live, the color of your skin or the amount of money in your bank account. All we have to do is look into the world and see people hurting. My friend just lost her mother. My friend just got raped. My friend did not eat dinner last night. My friend is going through a divorce and feels alone. My friend is in a relationship and feels alone. My friend has to figure out how to be a parent in this crazy world. My friends are having a hard time. I get it. I am in the boat with you. I have an idea and I hope it works because honestly, I am tired and I am alone and I feel like giving up. My idea is that we come together. Seriously, let’s try it. If you are going grocery shopping, invite a friend. If you are watching baseball, invite a friend. Whatever you are doing, stop doing it alone. If it is not possible to share in the moment, then share afterwards. If you are afraid that no one cares, send your story to me. I will listen. By you acknowledging me as a witness, I can acknowledge that what you are doing in the world is pretty darn fantastic. Pick up the phone. Make a two minute call to your friends and family to tell them that you love them. Being busy should no longer be an excuse. Being busy is going to be the end of us. I beg this of you. If you are a parent, make an effort every single day to tell your children that you love them; absolutely. unconditionally. If you are a friend, take advantage of every moment you have to spend time together. If you are a family, develop ways to stay together; despite distances and differences. If you are a human, take responsibility and help someone. The world needs you right now. I need you right now. You are so freaking important it is unbelievable.

once there was a powerful mansomeone who could change da worldhe did not know it, no, not yetbut as each sun rose and fellGod lookah down upon the man an’ sey“Today, boy, today. You can come alive.Today, boy, today. You can be beyond ya wildest dream.Today, boy, today. You can do it ah.”

And then God whispered“An if today seems too hard to bear.Don’cha worry mi boy.Jes rest yo mind. have faith. and dream a beautiful dream.Because tomorrow, I ah wake you once again.An’ I jes know you are on the cusp of livin’.be happy. love deeply.You are tha beautiful man, boy.When the sun ah come, wake up an’ live boy.”

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

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

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

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

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

April 17, 2011

Dear Mr. Morris,

I am not sure if you remember this but last Friday you broke my heart. You put your hands on me. You criticized me for something I have no control over; my race and my gender. I hurt. I hurt still. I really was only trying to help. I take responsibility for my actions—I know that I could have done something differently to have shown you more compassion. I forgive myself and I forgive you.

I want you to know, more than anything, that I love you as my own brother. I am deeply concerned that you hurt yourself by abusing alcohol and others. I want you to know that I believe you are capable of living in a way that is brighter and full of love. I want you to know that I will do anything in my power to help you but you have to ask me for what you need. Until I hear from you, I promise to always show you love and compassion when I see you on the road. I have unrelenting hope that you can be a beautiful person and make a worthy contribution to the world.

Love and respect,

Sarah

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

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

To the question, what is Peace?

Peace is the ability to do anything.

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

Peace is freedom.

Peace is togetherness.

To the question, what does peace look like?

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

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

Peace looks like love, happiness and communication.

To the question, how do we get more peace?

Admit when we are wrong

Train our families to love.

Show kindness.

Have love and trust.

We get peace when someone else shows it.

Overall, I believe all of the students would appreciate Beco’s closing statement, “Peace is a nice thing for people. If you do not have anything; people will give you peace.”

Bright students, they are so bright. For me, I find a certain kind of peace knowing that these are the minds that will be leading the future.

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

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

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

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

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

u n relenting hope.and there will be moments when it feels like there is a gun cocked to the side of my head but I will no longer bend into fear. I will no longer let despair darken my heart.

when the gun is held to the side of my head, I will look back at the barrel and say without a single doubt

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

and you knowthe more i think about it, the more i believe

the one's holding the guns

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

Yes, you, with all of your ugliness, you are capable of doing something beautiful. You can begin right now by lowering your weapon and giving me love.I need itI am scared out of my mind.

we all need beautifulpictures of ourselves. They help us to see thatwe are worthy of love and becoming that beautifulperson that acts in our hopeful daydreams.Recognizing our own beauty will empower us.We will know we are capable of being anything we can dream ourselvesto. be. people that are happy because they have nothing but love.ah love fo ah wee is what they would say down hererough translation: all love for all we

and that my friends is how you start to change the world.

the neighbor who ensures that my life is kept interesting

bright eyes. big world.strong enough to go against the grain

stunningly beautiful american woman.dedicated crew

for death begins with life's first breathand life begins at touch of death(quote on his shirt by John Oxenham)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And without further ado...

To: Linda Clouser; Jenny SmithSugject: Re:hello

the two greatest loves of my life...

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

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

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

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

Months ago, I had my typical cohort of children playing games and coloring on my living room floor. Since I moved into my own place, my afternoons have been blessed with the smiles and laughter of my neighborhood children. On this particular day, Dexroy Springer, one of my grade 5 students, was walking home from the playing field, saw children at my house and asked if he could join in. I have a strict policy of “Everyone’s Welcomed” so I invited him in. He made a place for himself on the floor and joined the exciting round of Candyland. All of us that grew up playing this game can surely remember just how exciting it can be. I left the living room for a total of two minutes to do something in another room and all of the sudden, my neighbors, Sariyah and Jeziah, are rushing towards me with “Miss! Miss! Miss! Sprigger T thiefed your phone!” Well hot damn, I have known to be aware of thieves in St. Vincent but I didn’t expect it to be in broad daylight by one of my students. I rushed out of the house to shout him but he had taken off down the road at lightning speed with my phone in tow. At this point, I am beginning to feel a bit panicky. I use my phone a lot down here—not only to chat but also as a number keeper and way to coordinate errands, rides, etc. Also, you can probably already guess this but the Peace Corps salary doesn’t leave much wiggle room for a candy bar ($3 EC) at the end of the month, let alone a new phone ($200 EC). To top it off, I have a phone that you use and then pay for at the end of the month. Most people here have phones that you buy credit on, “top up,” so if you don’t have money then you don’t have a way to call out (novel idea!). My phone can actually top up other’s phones and it is added to my bill. Again, the more I thought about it, the more fear grew in my heart, not only had he taken my phone but he was walking around with endless credit for anyone who was smart enough to figure it out. The phone had been providing the illusion of control in a world and experience where everything seems so beyond my control and here it was, stolen right out of my house by a nine year old that weights no more than fifty pounds that I welcomed through the front door. I would have bet a thousand dollars to say that the first person to rob me would have been a scary man, at least six feet tall and weighing in at two hundred and fifty pounds. Funny how life can take your expectations and turn them on their heads. In typical Vincy fashion, I headed out to the street, kids following at my heels and anxiously told my neighbors that my phone had just been thiefed by Dexroy. “Sprigger T?” said my neighbor Elvia, “I think he lives in Pashar Hill (a neighborhood in Layou). Let’s go look! We will find him.” So we set off through Layou, asking everyone if they had seen him pass and if they knew where he lived. Layou is not a big town so every person we met brought us closer to our target. Finally, three dark alleys, two barking dogs and one wrong turn later we arrived at Dexroy Springer’s house, a small 2 room clapboard home dangerously balanced on cinder blocks, a small light at the end of a dark walkway. Elvia called out and a woman came towards us to hear the explanation of how this Layou outsider had just had her phone stolen by Dexroy. His grandmother quietly explained that he had just arrived home a few minutes earlier but she had not seen a phone. In my head, I am screaming at the top of my lungs, just another twist in this Peace Corps path that I am already struggling along. Suddenly, I see a small light coming from around the corner and Elvia notices it too. It is Dexroy, huddled in the corner of the yard, desperate to finish the last game he may ever play of Digicel football (soccer on the phone). His grandmother calls him, he rushes into the house and hides in fear, she heads in after him. As mad as I am, I still don’t want him to be physically punished so I anxiously cross my fingers, hoping for a peaceful reunion with my Digicel gold. After about two minutes, his grandmother returns to the path with phone in hand. She places it in my palm and without another word, turns back to the house. Elvia and I head back up the hill to our block. As we are walking, I look at her and say “Thank you and could you please explain why you call Dexroy Sprigger T?” She looks at me, curiously, “You know, spaghetti, like the noodles? We call him Spaghetti because he is skinny like a noodle.” I laugh out loud, partly with relief and partly in gratefulness to whatever God is watching over this and smiling. Originally, I would have ended the story here with some anecdote about how it is great to live in a small community where everyone is willing to join together to help you get through the struggles but that would be selling the whole situation short. Gyal, it turns out that the word spaghetti was not the only thing at risk of getting lost in translation. Just last week, Dexroy’s grandmother shows up during lunch at the school, ready to rip him a new one because he has gone and spent his $1EC lunch money on cookies during break time (DUH!! Who wouldn’t choose delicious crème filled sandwiches over rice and chicken) and has been telling her that the school is refusing to give him food.. The ever gracious teacher, who runs the feeding program, gently explains to her that this is all part of the process of growing up, deciding how and where to spend money. Dexroy’s grandmother accepts her defeat. A few minutes later, I run into her again at a shop across the street as she is sharing the stresses of parenting a 10 year old child who is trying to figure out who he is and how he fits into the world. As soon as she sees me, she launches into the story of the day my phone made its way to Pashar Hill and how ashamed she feels, “Here, this white woman is here to teach and help and Dexroy thiefs her phone. I don’t know how to turn him against all of this evil.” Her head hangs low and her shoulders slouch forward. I’ve been working on getting bolder so I look her in the eyes and say, “You know what, for Dexroy and me, taking my phone was the very best thing that ever could have happened. Sure, it was hard to deal with the fact that he had violated my trust in him but he made it up. He came back to class, offered a sincere apology and has been the most improved student since. Honestly, I am able to teach him better now that we have lived through this together. In fact, I really love having Sprigger T as one of my students.” She looked at me curiously as if she couldn’t believe that someone had been able to get over being thiefed by someone they had welcomed into their home. I smiled, put my shoulders back and said, “Lawd, if people hadn’t forgiven me for all the chaos I have brought into the world, I wouldn’t be able to be standing right in front of you. We all deserve another chance.” I grabbed my soda off the counter and headed back to the school, knowing that the job ahead of me as a teacher is much more than the ABCs. The work of every person who participates in the life of a child can only begin to be explained as a continuous act of love, forgiveness and faith that everyone is capable of being the best noodle they can be.the man. the myth. the noodle.

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

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

Just to translate- the words are:"And you thought you had baggage..."

When I think of returning to the states I feel... unsureI think my family will expect me to... go back to normalI expect that my friends will be... supportiveRegarding money, I'm going to be...just fineIn terms of future plans, I hope to ... listen to my heart.

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

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

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

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

The world. It is. A good place. To belove smithers

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

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

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

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

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

Peace Corps asked for "lessons learned" in our annual trimester report. I call them tidbits of goofiness that remind me of why I am here and what I ultimately came to do, which is get to know myself better so that just by being alive, I can become a positive energy in the world.

At the school: Learn from the locals: You might have a great teaching method and experience but if you are still calling "z", "z" and not "zed" you will not be getting through.Be broad: Offer to help in all areas of the school as you get started. Who cares that you hate making banners? It might be just the opportunity to get to know a fellow teacher, who, after developing a relationship with, you may start a comedian troop with.Withhold all judgement: In other words, "You know nothing" and you can either judge and have pie in your face later or you can try as hard as you can just to observe and soak it in. You will start to understand the way things work eventually and that is when things will get interesting because you have to fit into the way things work to truly integrate.In the Community:Sincerity goes further than friendliness: When I first arrived, I found myself waving and saying "hi" to everyone. Like I didn't stick out enough to start with, here I was acting like I was running for Prime Minister of St. Vincent; kissing babies and shaking hands. There was a point when I started to understand the looks that were being given to me. It is not like anyone was unfriendly but the looks said, "Alright, you are new here, we get it, so now what?" Once I understood that all of my friendliness really was just a show, I knew that I had to get "real." I started asking names. I started linking parents to children and families to families. I started asking questions and sharing things about myself and what I am doing here. I opened up and was honest about who I am. Wouldn't you know it, all of the sudden, things started to make more sense and I began to feel like I fit in a bit more. I am still in the midst of this exciting process and I love it. What a blessing to be in a culture where people are willing to be my friend, regardless of my skin tone, nationality or goofy outfits.For one reason or another, it seems like all of the other Christian denominations on the island do not like the Seventh Day Adventists: I still don't understand it but I am telling you, I see it. As a volunteer it is good to know these subtle prejudices that exist within this culture as sooner or later, you will surely bump into it when you are trying to move forward with an idea.If you don't wash your drapes before Christmas, everyone knows about it and you can bet they are talking about it: That's no joke. I have been amazed by the things that my neighbors, community members and students pick up just by existing in the same small piece of the world as me. Originally, the American in me thought, "AHHH!!! No privacy!!!! This will make me nutty!" but now I see the nosiness is a way of caring. My neighbors know all of my friends, they ask how my family is doing, they laugh at my attempts to clean moss off the concrete and try my crazy carrot soup. So they don't really care if you clean your drapes, as long as you are willing to be the messy one in this "family" you have just joined.Where it counts the most--lessons learned about Myself:Humility times two: First, I am so humbled by the friends and family that are supporting me from afar in the states. When you are put in a situation like this where you are 100% alone, you are able to see your support system very clearly. I am, literally, brought to my knees, by the love and concern that these special people have for me. I don't understand how in a world of so much hatred and meanness, I ended up with the most selfless and committed people in my corner. Second, I have always loved to dream big and while that has been an attribute here as well, I feel that I have benefited the most from having some of my largess dreams squashed by the realities of life in a developing country. As the singer K'naan says, "Any man who knows a thing, knows he knows not a damn, damn thing at all." (sorry for the language but it just fits!). I hope that as I move forward in this journey, I move with humility, knowing that I am here to learn from Vincentians and maybe provide some extra energy, smiles and laughable dance moves.I am still learning: There is no point in trying to be perfect here, I give up. The idea of perfection was something that I truly struggled with in the States. I always wanted to do it right, so much that I think I let a lot of things fall to the wayside because I was scared of failing. Here, I like to savor the learning moments and look forward to the process that each of my volunteer projects will go through. I want to be told straight what I could be doing better, so I can do it. I want whatever I leave behind, whether it be a memory of going to the talent show with Miss Smith or being taught to read, to have that signature "Sarah Smith" quirk. When your soul comes alive, you better listen to it and listen good, gyal (girl).

First of all, I would like to say that it is almost downright hilarious that I am posting a recipe. Back home in the states, I am no cook. Here in St. Vincent, I am no cook. That being said, when a person is put between a rock and a hard place, i.e. there are no restaurants besides ones cooking chicken and chips serving dinner in Layou (rock) and the most legit grocery store is a ride into town and lugging pounds of groceries all over God's green earth (hard place), one tends to get creative. I have found myself daydreaming about flavor combinations, trying to figure out how to mash carrots into a pulp fine enough that it counts for soup and learning how to cook bully beef (corned beef) and chicken sausages (a more refined way of saying Purdue Chicken Hot Dogs) in ways I never thought possible. In an environment where imagination and imitation (of the local dishes) are king, eventually you land on something that you think, "My goodness, I simply have to share that with the masses." So from my little gas stove to yours, let's bring our hearts close together by cooking the same thing regardless of how many miles we are apart.

Roasted Vegetable Pizza:

Earlier in the day: Take out 1 cup of frozen spinach and put it in the fridge. Move it to the counter if you want it to cooperate faster.

Part One: Roast that garlicTake two heads of garlic, remove the fine paper covering and chop of the top of the bulbs. If you are in St. Vincent, cover with a square of MelloKrem margarine and put in a baking dish. Cover said baking dish with a baking sheet to create a small oven within the oven. If you are somewhere with more conveniences, actually they are here I just can't afford them, unwrap the garlic, chop the tops, cover with olive oil and wrap in foil. Place in your oven to bake. I don't know what temperature because mine is in Celsius and honestly, I tend to guess. Let's say 350... that sounds safe.

Part Two: Make that dough gyalIn one bowl: Mix 1/2 tsp of yeast, 1 tbsp of sugar, 1/2 cup of warm water. If you live in St. Vincent, this will be a blend of water out of your kettle (HOT!) and water from the empty rum bottles in your fridge (COLD!), together they combine for warm. If you live elsewhere, you probably can use a microwave or find hot enough water coming out of your tap. (Jealous?! Me?Never!)In another bowl mix 1/2 tsp of salt and 1 cup of flour. Keep the flour open because you will need more.Mix wet mixture to dry mixture. Keep adding flour until you get a consistency that is not sticking to your hands. Move this to a floured countertop. If you are still using a spoon, get rid of that thing and get your hands dirty. For the next 3-4 reggae songs (Oh yes, I forgot to mention that you must have reggae music playing for this recipe to really work. May I suggest Beres Hammond, Buju Bantan or my new favorite, Alison Hinds) knead the dough until you have an elastic consistency. Continue adding flour until it is no longer sticky. Work that dough gyal and don't forget to dance while you are doing it. When you feel that it is at the right consistency, roll into a ball and cover lightly with oil (Sunbeam Supreme in St. Vincent!), place in a bowl and cover with a towel. Let rise until it doubles in size.

Part Three: Roast your other veggiesI used zucchini, grape tomatoes and onion but feel free to do whatever works. If you live in Vincy, slice up your veggies, add to garlic pan and add more MelloKrem. If you live elsewhere, unwrap the garlic, place in a heavy glass baking dish, add vegetables, add more olive oil, cover the whole shebang with aluminum foil. Place in oven until everything looks soft (but not too soft) and downright delicious.

Part Four: Par-bake CrustWork with the dough until it fits the shape of the "pizza pan." Rumor has it that you can roll it out but lawda ha mercee, you need a laddah to purchase one of dem here because the price is so high. Cook the dough until it looks like an undercooked piece of bread. There should be no doughy parts but it also should not be starting to brown. If this is happening, reduce the heat on the oven.

Part Five: Cheese, cheese, cheese.Shred cheese. I use cheddar because that is what I can get. If I were back home, I would use mozzarella and Parmesan. Shoot, I would probably just buy the Italian Blend in the supermarket. Take the roasted garlic and squeeze the cloves into the cheese. Mix, mix, mix until you have a lovely cheese and garlic combination that you are dreaming about swimming in.

Part Six: Make itTake par-baked dough, cover evenly with spinach (please squeeze out excess water), cheese/garlic heaven mixture and roasted vegetables. Cook in the oven until the cheese starts to bubble and the crust is golden brown. I find that this is the test of patience because I always want to pull it out early but if you wait, you will find just the right moment, I promise!

Part Seven: Find a good friend to eat it with. Don't forget to share with your neighbors if you have an extra.

I believe that children are a universal breed. I believe that anywhere you go in this big, wide world, there is a lighthearted, eager energy that lives within each child. They are special and unique. As an adult, I am constantly in awe of children and the experience of childhood. I am now reporting that I have made a breakthrough discovery of a new type of child. This new breed is called a "Vincygardner" and can be defined as a child attending Kindergarten in St. Vincent, more specifically at the Layou Government School. A Vincygardner will make your heart melt while your brain thinks, "Lawda ha mercee, them pickme's es ah crazy!" (Lord have mercy, those children are crazy!) I really cannot describe the wonders that I see in these children so I am just going to share some pictures and a video. Enjoy!

Video: We watch a Phonics video that goes through the sounds each letter makes. The "W" section has a DJ and the Ws dance all over the place while the DJ goes crazy with the "W" sound. The little one in the green shirt is nicknamed "Sexy" because he is just so darn cute. Check the little girl in the back, I told you these kids can move! I can't figure out how to flip the video but it makes me laugh sideways!

These are the stoplight boys napping, typically the light stays green!

Only one word that can describe this picture: SWEETNESS

I am almost 100% certain that after looking so darn cute for this picture, she turned and boxed a little boy in the nose for stealing her rubber (eraser). Fierce, these girls are FIERCE!

Showing Miss Smith that they are "ready," well at least that they will pay attention for the next 60 seconds.

And he has a twin... does life get any better?!

Surely, there is no better thing in the world than being a carefree child. Except maybe being a carefree child with a big ice cream cone in one hand and a bright red balloon on a string in the other.

I remember learning about social apathy in Freshmen Psychology class. The professor described a horrific scene in which a woman was murdered on a bridge while it was full of traffic. Everyone looked on but no one did a thing. I remember hoping that if I should ever find myself in a situation like that I would do the "right" thing. I would face the injustice head on, regardless of the consequences for myself. I hoped that I would be brave but luckily it never truly came to that point. Sure, I volunteered to fight the injustices of poverty, education and violence. In any given year, I would travel to Guatemala to build houses, teach Somalian refugees how to ride the Blacksburg Transit or purchase gifts for an Angel on the Salvation Army Christmas tree. It's not to say that I wasn't doing enough but I rarely found myself in situations where doing the "right" thing was really all that challenging. I am a good, compassionate person but I wouldn't include brave or bold under my list of personal qualities. Sure, I hope to be both brave and bold but I have had the luxury of being an upeer-middle class American from a strong family with good friends and great opportunities. Up until now, my chances to be brave and bold were limited to sports competitions and managing sorority and workplace politics. There, in the US, horrific events take place every day but they were always so far from my reality. Here, in St. Vincent, they are right at my doorstep, so egregious that you can smell the inhumanity as if it were a freshly baked pie of all the terrible things that humans can do to one another.

She is in the hospital this week. She is 9 years old. The rumor around town is that she was pushed by a four year old and fell onto a steel pipe. It was up the hill where nobody lives and nobody saw. They were fighting over a piece of bread. But the truth of it is, that story just does not work. She had a steel pipe invade her private parts. Her sister, 13, has a similar story from when she was 10 years old, the only difference is that she accidentally fell on a stick. So I won't make any assumptions but I will tell you that when I look at the youngest sister in the bunch, she's 7, my heart aches in a way that it never has before.

He just started attending school this past Monday. He is 7. Mom did not have the money to send him to school so he spent his kindergarten year and the first 5 months of his first grade year hanging around his house. First grade is a scary place for him. The only way to describe the way he looks is lost but there is a light. In the dim lighting of my office turned into a classroom, he gives off a certain energy when he listens to me read. It is an energy of hopefulness, excitement,and the bliss of learning as a child. I can't help it; my eyes fill with tears when we get to a poem titled "The Question." He didn't come to school today, teacher says he is already on holiday.

She just wanted to lime at the beach for a day. She just wanted to let loose and have some fun. Sure, she knew that she shouldn't be drinking but it felt so good. She stood at the makeshift bar, winding her hips and making eyes with any man who looked like he might be able to give her the love she so desperately needed. Hours later, her head is being held underwater as three men come at her. It was too late by the time someone brave came along. One had already gotten through. She ran down to the other side of the beach desperate to get away. She wrung her hands, feeling the shame of the day as if it were a rock holding her under the water. She did not mean for it to go this way but it seems to happen often. These situations that get out of control have become so regular that her life is spinning.

And I wish with all of me that I could say the things above are just stories. I wish that I could tell you that I read about them in the news but these are stories that I have had so close to my skin, I can still feel the tingle. This is the raw edition of life that is happening around the world but it is my first true experience with it. What to do? If you have an answer, please send it along. For now I listen to my parents. My dad says that he truly believes that all any parent wants for their children is a better life than what they had. My mother says that a person can only know what they have been taught or exposed to. So I go on with it hoping that what they have told me is true. Together with my community, we can teach and expose people to more, to kindness and to love. Through education and exposure, parents can see their dreams for their children come through. Social apathy, it turns out, is not just doing the "right" thing at the right moment; it is striving and struggling to do as much good as you can with all that you have.

Another volunteer told me that she had been contacted by someone who had just been placed in St. Vincent (they are arriving this Saturday!). She was disappointed to have a cushy placement like the Caribbean where we have electricity and running water. This what I will say to her, "Gawl, jes because yo ha water running out ah di pipes, dat doesn't mek it easy."

"The Question"

by Dennis Lee

If I could teach you how to fly

Or bake an elderberry pie

Or turn sidewalks into stars

Or play new songs on an old guitar

Or if I knew the way to heaven

The names of night, the taste of seven

And owned them all, to keep or lend--

Would you come and be my friend?

You cannot teach me how to fly.

I love the berries but not the pie.

The sidewalks are for walking on,

And an old guitar has just one song.

The names of night cannot be known,

The way to heaven cannot be shown.

You cannot keep, you cannot lend--

But still I want you for my friend.

I know, I know, I am not supposed to even mention homesickness. It has become a four letter word in my vocabulary. One that I am supposed to guard myself against but it has gotten to the point where if I failed to mention it, I would be doing a grave injustice to the whole Peace Corps experience and my attempt to share it. Homesickness is a study in contradictions. There are moments when I would give my right arm to go back to Blacksburg, Virginia and enjoy a sunny day on the Lefty's patio, surrounded by my friends, family and sweet dog, Murphy. After a short trip to the luxuries of Target, I would lace up my boots and hike to the top of a mountain. Lord, it would be a good day. On the other hand, despite not having to give up an arm, it is also a dream to spend the afternoon swimming in the ocean with new friends, dancing the night away with my newly discovered hips or looking up DaBrat videos while I eat spoonfuls of peanut butter with my closest companion here. You see, you can manage to be overwhelmed with joy while still being torn at the heart. I think this means that I am one lucky girl.

I find this paradox keenly felt when I eat soup. Now, I already know what you are thinking, "You eat soup there?! Isn't it 90 degrees everyday?" Yes, it is hot here but soup is a staple. The school makes soup so good on Thursdays that I have already begun the emotional preparation for the summer when I will have to live without it for eight weeks. I also enjoyed my fair share of soup while I was in the states. Chili, broccoli cheddar, Hokie House's frozen concoctions; I loved them all. As I was eating a cup of Callalou(green sort of like spinach) soup (no spoon, just cup) this past Saturday it got me to thinking. I was trying to navigate the green minefield; looking out for delightful dumplings and wondering what part of the goat had landed in my cup. Then I remembered a nice hearty bowl of chicken noodle where there were no questions about what part of the meat I was eating and spoons were readily accessible. Sure, I missed the chicken noodle but I was plum happy in the earthy, mystery flavors of the Callalou. Somewhere between the noodles and the goat lies the truth of this experience. You must adjust, you have to learn to love the Callalou to the point where you are buying bags of it but you don't ever forget how to mix eggs and flour to just the right consistency so that you have the most heart-mending bowl of chicken noodle. There will be days when you want the new stuff and others when you just want the old familiar but most of the time, I find myself trying to strike a balance and adding homemade noodles to the pot of Callalou.

GE, Hoover and Swiffer have nothing on me these days. I have become a cleaning machine. Honestly, there is not another option here. The expectation in St. Vincent is that a person takes care of their things. "Taking care" doesn't just imply putting away your shoes; taking care is washing your broom after you use it and mopping your front porch. In all fairness, cleaning is really not within the job description of a Peace Corps volunteer but integration is. For me, part of integration has been keeping up with all of the housework. All around me, my neighbors are tidying up. I can hear Elvia, who lives a few doors down, scrubbing her "yard" with bleach and a scrub brush at 5am. Fitzroy, the 20 year old who lives behind me, cleans up after his dogs and sweeps his porch before I have time to ingest breakfast.

As my forearms burned this morning from the 6am laundry, I realized that I love to be my own wash, rinse and spin cycle. There is something so rewarding in seeing a full line of clothes, blowing in the breeze, and knowing that it is your own elbow grease that put them there. "I have to do my laundry" has a whole new meaning and unfortunately it does not include catching up on "The Mentalist" while I patiently wait for the washing machine to finish its work. I was called "Vincy" recently when I decided that the moss growing in my water run off path had to go. Recently, I've come close to slipping to my death as I try to make my way around the house in the dark. The water flows out of the house via an open drainage system and it is a breeding ground for slick moss. This is not my new favorite chore-- it is gross! Best yet, I found a pair of underwear that must have slipped down the pipe when I did laundry last week. I am sure my neighbors don't lose their knickers but what can I say, I am new to all this!

For me, there are simple moments when I realize how different my life has become. I am sure that when tourist drive through the town of Layou, they see the clapboard houses, mis-matched paint and the grime that seems to cover everything. I used to see it too. These days, as I walk to school, I see the lines of laundry that took hours to clean. I see Elvia scrubbing a pair of 2 year old rubber flip flops until they shine. Porches are scrubbed, clothing ironed and floors swept. All serving as a reminder that we must be grateful for the things we have whether it is a vacuum or our bare hands.

Mike Greenberg once said, "Life is a series of thousands of tiny miracles."

Today, at the Layou Government School, I came across one of those tiny miracles. I have been working with a group of fourth grade students who barely know their alphabet. I decided to use a specific teaching method with them during the final two terms of the school year. The approach is extremely remedial and actually designed for the overachieving parents of the world that want their 4 year old to learn how to read. The good news is that whether a child is 4 or 10, the program works. This morning, the fourth grade teacher came to me and said that the children had been excited and involved in class all morning. "Even Cathilda!" she exclaimed, Cathilda being one of the students who barely speaks and is not responsive to lessons. To my surprise, I walked into my classroom during lunch and saw Zita, another of my fourth grade students, reviewing the lesson from yesterday with one of the younger students. Miracle! was all that I could think! Maybe it is teaching or maybe it is Peace Corps but whatever it is, I am learning that the most important thing you can do for a child is to believe in them. Once they know someone is there to cheer them on, they will be able to move mountains (and read!).

I still have a smile on my face from the sweet arrangement of events that created my first Christmas in St. Vincent. I was nervous that I would miss home terribly and while it is certainly true that my heart strings were pulled in the direction of New York, DC, Pensacola and the Bay area, I got through just fine. Christmas Eve is not really celebrated here in SVG so I spent the evening watching The Office holiday episodes (so funny!) and getting materials ready for school. On Christmas morning, I woke up and did my normal exercise routine only to be interrupted twice by my 9 year old neighbor who had climbed over my fence to wish me a “Merry Christmas!” and the second time to wonder what in the world I was still doing! I explained to him that Christmas equates with eating in the states so I was just prepping for the long day ahead! Graciously, he agreed that he would give me until 8:30am to truly begin Christmas!

At 8:30, he arrived bearing gifts of sweet bread and his 3 year old brother, Juvion. We hugged, said “Merry Christmas” and played numerous Christmas carols on YouTube. We took the carrot cake that I had made for his family over to their house and I gave the boys their Christmas presents. In typical Peace Corps/teacher fashion, I had decided that I would only give out books as gifts. Juvion received Where’s Spot and Vianj received his first Berenstein Bears book, a series that I adored as a child. It is the first book that either of them have ever owned and as they carried the books for the rest of the afternoon, I knew that despite books not being the most exciting gifts that they were valued. After spending some time at their house, we walked up the road (and a huge hill) to deliver a Christmas gift to Stefi (The Secret Garden) and her family. We hung out on the road outside their house for a bit, waving to friends that passed and enjoying the sunshine. On our way back to our block, we decided that we would take a tour of the town. Lucky for me, the boys have plenty of family in Layou.

Our tour of Layou took a total of three hours! We stopped at aunts and uncles houses, receiving gifts of juice, cake, Guinness (just for me) and money (just for the boys). We walked in the sweet sunny bliss of a Christmas morning. Children were racing new bicycles down the road and Christmas carols came blasting out of speakers. Everywhere you looked, families and friends were together, just enjoying each other’s company. When we arrived home, Elvia, the boy’s mother, filled a plate with food to send home with me and gave me a glass of Mawby (sort of like root beer) and Ginger Beer. I went home and took a break before going to Flory’s house for Christmas dinner. At Flory’s, we had a quiet dinner, just Flory, Uncle Richard and myself. She had cooked a meal for kings and I enjoyed every bit of it. I even ate the fish cheeks, which is getting downright close to the eyeballs! After sitting for a few hours and talking about life, I helped with the dishes and headed home. Almost as soon as I arrived home, I received a call from my friend Sudi inviting me to come lime (hang out) with him and a group of guys that have become my closest friends here in Vincy. I went and met them at the Nichols house. Mr. Nichols had been their boss and he was graciously hosting the gang on the porch. The boys were already smiling with bellies full of Guinness and the joy that only comes from spending time with your closest friends. I grabbed a chair, sat back and enjoyed the show. A c ouple of times, the boys would look at me and say “Thanksgiving!” They had been invited to the Peace Corps Thanksgiving celebration where we explained that the holiday was about eating, drinking and having a good time with your friends and family. They couldn’t have said it any better, as my heart was giving thanks for whatever cosmic forces came together to land me right in that moment.

Sunday was Boxing Day, a holiday that is spent with friends and neighbors. I spent the morning with my neighbors, playing games and reading books. At 1:30, my landlord picked me up to take me to his house for Boxing Day supper. His wife had cooked an amazing meal complete with a tossed salad, the first I have had since arriving in SVG! We enjoyed lunch, talked about the issues of literacy and how to work with parents. It was a fascinating conversation and I couldn’t help but feel like I was talking to surrogate parents who were interested in seeing my work result in success. After the meal, I took a tour of the house, spent time with their neighbors and watched the end of the Caribbean Cricket tournament on TV. Their children are overseas so I was happy to spend time with Mr. and Mrs. Charles in a way that can only be described as the familiar feeling of downright comfort that one has when they are with their families. After a few hours, Mr. Charles took me home with a “doggie” bag full of macaroni pie, sweet cake and meat pies. Later that evening, a friend picked me up and we went to a liming spot called the Drop Off where I finished off my Christmas weekend by dancing until the wee hours of the morning.

A very merry Christmas indeed!

is friendship! Today is Miss Jennifer Ewart's birthday and I have to take this moment to give a big shout out to the woman that has helped make my Peace Corps experience so downright enjoyable. Jenn hails from Northern California and is always full of fresh ideas about social justice and the ways of the world. She is truly a social anthropologist, constantly engaging people from a variety of backgrounds to deepen her understanding of human existence. As a volunteer, she has a quiet, measured pace. She isn't pushy, she is just herself living in Spring Village offering a helping hand and a cup of coffee. I can tell when we ride through the village in the van and children break into bright smiles when they see her, that SVG needs more people like her. Her Vincy "grandfather" reminds me every time I see him that Jenn is not going home to the states-- he wants to keep her here! Her quiet determination and fierce compassion are the recipe for change in Spring. As a friend, she makes me laugh, helps me through hard times and is my co-pilot in island adventures. We have taken to spending time together getting to know friends around the island (and I do mean around the island! Even though we both live on the Leeward side, it is not strange to see us Winward on Sundays, stirring up smiles!). Just the other day, I was at a government event and I ran into a friend, first question out of his mouth was "Where's Jennifer?" Every once in a while, we are lucky to find people who make us better just by being with them and I believe his question goes to show that in Vincy, Miss Jennifer and I go together like salt fish and rice.

Happy Birthday to a lovely, lovely friend and a wonderful member of the United States Peace Corps!

Picture above of Jennifer and Justlyn, my host sister!

I promise, everyday I think to myself that I simply must post something but somehow by the middle of the day my mind is overwhelmed by all of the wonderful things that I could send your way that most of the time I just head to bed, satisfied with the fact that life is going along just as it should and not at all how I would have planned. But in an effort to keep this blog going and to explain what is so many times downright impossible to explain, I write again today. It is going to be a hodgepodge of my life in Vincy and the moments that bring me right to my knees.

Everyone, I mean EVERYONE, wants me to marry a Vincentian and stay here forever! It is funny, I hadn’t realized it until this past week but on a regular basis, I get asked if I have met any nice men or if I would like to be introduced regardless of what I say. I also am asked what my “requirements” are—money, age or Christian. I have come up with a variety of answers, the best being that I have my hopes out for the next Soca Monarch that won’t be announced until next Carnival (July) and that I would have no chance with anyways since he will be a major (or minor) celebrity after being crowned the BEST Soca artist in St. Vincent. I consider it a compliment—they want me to stay!

My library books were two weeks late! I had tried to return them twice but the library had an unscheduled closing those days. It is the end of the month so the librarian has to pay her bills. Anyways, I went to the library and of course, I ended up with a $0.90 fine and of course I did not have the money to cover the fine. Fortunately, there were a couple students who threw in their ten cent pieces and shillings ($0.25) to cover Miss Smith’s fines. I was able to check out a new load of books for class this week and I promptly returned the money during break the next morning. It was a wonderful feeling to have kids throwing out their small change to ensure that I could check out more books. They don’t have money, I don’t have money but together we can work it out.

Yesterday at the 4-H meeting we were working on creating Christmas Wreaths out of our handprints. In the States, I had run this activity a few times with no problems. Everyone traces their hands, colors them green and cuts them out. We put all the palms together and make a lovely little wreath. Well, the children of Layou made a whole new kind of wreath. There were long (LONG!) fingernails, red hands, green hands, purple hands and brown hands. I love it. They always give me a run for my money. At the end of the day, it is about giving the wreath to someone in our community who is less fortunate than us.

Finally, I have been teaching a composition class which I have basically kidnapped and turned into a Creative Writing class. It is FUN!!! Most of the students are not regularly encouraged to use their imaginations and write what they feel inside so it is really interesting to see what they have to say when there is no grade. My rule is that they have to write something but there is no judgement after that. Today, the topic was “If I could learn about anything I want.” I wanted to share a few of the responses:

Cheslon, “ I would like to learn about Haiti because I want to help those people affected by the hurricane and Cholera.”

Josh, “I would like someone to teach me to play football for me to get better at it.”

Marvin, “I want to learn about mechanics because I love to fix vehicles because vehicles take you anywhere you want to go.”

How could I not fall in love with SVG? Come visit… we will make you a lovely sign like the one below!

Also I would like to give my mom a big "Thank You!!!" for creating the Smithers' Vincy Gym, it has been put to good use and we are all much stronger for it!

There would be days like this and it is true, even in the land of sunshine and rainbows, there are days that leave you feeling blue. The other day at school I was bullied by another teacher. Wait… what? That is exactly what I was thinking as it was happening. We were in the lunchroom where I had been helping distribute lunch when two teachers were talking in dialect, apparently about me because one of them looked over and said “Don’t worry, she doesn’t understand us.” That is, in fact, completely the case because although dialect is a variation of English, many times it does not sound like any word I have ever heard before in my life. The she looked at me and said, “What’s unique about America?” in a snappy tone and then proceeded to say “St. Vincent has its own language, food, culture, holidays and way of doing things. Everything America has is borrowed.” I looked over in disbelief, shocked that I was being asked to defend my country. I said, “We are the great melting pot, we have so many different people coming together and that is what makes us unique.” I left it at that, exhausted and frustrated at the experience.

I hesitated to write about this on my blog because I was afraid it would come out as a complaint when really it was an “ah-ha” moment. I also don’t want to overdramatize the bullying. In fact, I am quite sure that if she knew how her comment affected me, she would explain that she did not mean for it to come across that way. So that leads to my “ah-ha” which is don’t take everything so personally and roll with the punches. I spoke with my friend Sati about the whole experience and he explained to me that people are going to want to challenge me a little because they want to see if I can handle the pressure. Vincentians are light hearted people and they want to know if you can roll with that. He also explained that so many Vincentians move off of the island that to those who have never left there is a certain mystery about what could be so great about the US, England, Canada or anywhere else in the world when St. Vincent is so unique in its own right.

There seems to be a point in the first couple months where despite being happily integrating into the community, you hit a wall. You realize that you are different and while you can adjust to cold water, lizards and being stared at all the time, there are things under the surface that will take more time. Peace Corps feels like the first time I learned to knit. At first, it is crazy and confusing. Then you get the hang of it and are dreaming of knitting cable sweaters and blankets for your yet to be born nieces and nephews. Then you look down and realize that you have missed stitches, miscounted or the holes just look funny. You have to pull out the yarn and go back to the beginning. You know what to do but you have to slow down and take time to get it right. They have a saying here, “Tek time kill ants yo go fine de guts,” which translates as if you take time to do something, you will discover the intricate details that make up the whole picture. So I am taking time to kill the ants (just not the crazy ones that are attacking my house!).

My favorite part of St. Vincent is my neighbors. I love them. They take care of me, send over bakes (bread-type roll), make tutus when there is a hurricane and remind me of why I am here. They give advice on getting out stains, help me check my laundry to see if it is dry and are my knights in the war against crazy ants that are attacking my house. I love to see their faces peeping out from behind my gate asking if it is “okay” for them to come over. At first I was confused because I simply have never had neighbors like this. Sure, I would always wave and say “hi” but here my neighbors have become my family away from home. We spend our days together reading, laughing, baking and coloring. When I see their smiling faces I believe that this is really what I am here to do; just be a good neighbor to a fellow citizen of the world.

This past Saturday, St. Vincent was hit by Hurricane Tomas. It was a crazy experience but I was lucky to have Stefi, my nine year old neighbor, with me the whole time. She came over on Saturday morning and by the afternoon the wind was blowing too hard for her to return to her mother’s house up the road so we braved the storm together. It was a wonderful day despite all that was happening outside the window. We baked bread, painted our fingernails, made a hand sewn tutu and read every book in the house, many of them twice. She now has claim to a toothbrush and a shirt to use as a nightgown. In the middle of the night, as the wind and rained steadily beat into the house, I was so happy to have her with me; cuddled up and using the headlight as a nightlight.

I am thankful that Layou faired quite well through the storm. There were a few families that lost their roofs or had water damage. We have our own source of water and luckily our electricity was not down for long. Other communities had significantly more damage and most of the country lost their crops. Everyone is optimistic despite the situation that may face the country in the coming months. I am trying to stick with them despite being nervous about the tight rope that so many of my neighbors walk between getting by and poverty. I guess we will cross that bridge when we get there.

October 27th marks 31 years of independence for the lovely island nation of St. Vincent and the Grenadines. It has been a jam-packed few days as the students have been getting ready to celebrate. Last week all of the classes made Vincentian flags and rehearsed their national anthem. I am happy to report that I know all the words! On Monday of this week, the students had a game day where they played football, cricket and netball. On Tuesday, all of the students were asked to wear their Independence colors so that we could march through town. The video on the blog entry below is of the morning assembly where students were practicing their songs for the march. We marched right through town (and down some streets I had not visited yet!) and sang the whole way or at least gave a good effort to sing the whole way. After the march, the students were dismissed early except for 25 who had been selected to participate in the national student rally.

Miss John and I took 25 children to Victoria Park in Kingstown. We were met by hundreds of other students. At the rally, a variety of dignitaries gave speeches and some students from various schools performed old folk dances and songs. The highlight for most of the students was the Capoeira performance by a group from Brazil. We also enjoyed popcorn, Busta (fruit sodas most closely related to Fanta) and lots of sweeties. It was great to see these students get out of Layou and see what other kids are doing. I am also proud to say that the Layou Government School was very well behaved!

Wednesday was Independence Day and the town was abuzz. In the morning, most people watched the national parade on their TV (or their neighbor’s). I know this because I do not have a TV and could hear it all around me as I sat on my porch. In the afternoon, the school held its annual Independence Day Fair. It was wonderful! They had a bouncing castle, DJ, chicken, ice cream and pizza. The classrooms were set up like booths and the students could play darts, pin the tail on the donkey, bottle toss or get their face painted by Miss Smith. They also had games that I had never heard of though I figured out that we do have similar games in the US. Dips is a big bucket full of sawdust and for one dollar, the student gets to dip their hand in to find a prize. Punchboard is a large board with hundreds of holes stuffed with paper. The students pay a dollar to select a piece of paper. If the paper has a number on it, they get the corresponding prize. There were some awesome prizes including a huge cake decorated like the St. Vincent flag. The dance floor was the biggest hit. These kids can MOVE!!! Seriously, the dance floor looked like a hip dance club except no one was above 4’5”. After the fair, all of the adults get together and lime on the block (hang out). We have Thursday and Friday off from school so all the children can recover from the festivities! Happy Independence SVG!

It’s official! Today I become a Peace Corps volunteer which is really just the beginning of this 24 month adventure. Overall, training was a success. There were a few afternoons where adjusting to the heat and humidity got the better of me and my brain was off but other than that I feel like I have gained a lot of valuable information. We covered a range of subjects from Vincentian history to corporal punishment and HIV/AIDS. I have become fascinated by the ins and outs of literacy and how to adapt the philosophies to my classroom. It looks like the next two years will be filled with constant research so if anyone has suggestions please send them along! Literacy is a big challenge with most of the primary school students in Layou and I know that I will need a variety of approaches to work with a variety of students. It is exciting to know that I will soon be in the classroom full time and becoming a community member of Layou. I wanted to take this time to note some of the assumptions that I had prior to coming to St. Vincent and how they all played out. I think the first thing that comes to mind when one thinks of the Peace Corps is living a life in the “bush.” I know that some volunteers really do have that experience but that is not the case in SVG. That’s not to say that we are living at the Ritz but I think the biggest challenges here are more cultural. Here’s a run down of the “creature comforts” that I was worried about: Water: Layou’s water is wonderful! The Canadian government actually wanted to bottle it. I can drink it straight from the tap which I consider a blessing. Electricity, Hot Showers, etc.: Electricity is readily available at my house but it is expensive. I limit my usage by turning off the power switch on the outlets (wish they had this in the states!) and using a limited amount. Showers are cold and refreshing! Food: There is a wide variety of fruits and vegetables available in the market and the grocery stores have many familiar products. The challenge with food is the cost so I am learning where to find bargains and what I can live without. On the other end of the spectrum there have been some surprising challenges that I would not have expected. What I have learned repeatedly during the first two months is that 1. People are generally friendly and want to connect with you and 2. You cannot control anything but yourself. Don’t be fooled into thinking otherwise. The first lesson has been reinforced over and over again. When I come upon a challenging situation, it is nice to know that I am not alone. My neighbors are wonderful, my home stay was a great experience and everyone is willing to help out when I am lost in town or trying to figure out which bus to catch. They don’t laugh that I don’t know how to do/ eat certain things, they just show me the Vincentian way. Life in SVG is about community, everyone is here to help others out and I feel lucky to be on the receiving end of this charitable attitude. The second lesson has been a challenging one to swallow. I guess I knew that I was not “in control” in the states but I had many illusions to make us think otherwise. If something is not working, you call somebody, it doesn’t matter what day of the week it is and if you need something, you can jump in your car to get it or order it online. If you want to be on time, you go by the schedule. This isn’t really the case in St. Vincent. You learn to take a step back and be patient. Things will work out. My hard drive crashed, it worked out. My neighbor figured out the internet after many frustrated hours of trying on my own. The bus driver recognizes me and pulls me onto the van so that I am not late. I bring a book with me and enjoy the minutes (or hours) before the meeting starts. As they would say down here, “I am getting through.” I am enjoying this learning adventure. I would like to say a big “Thank you!!!!” to all of my friends and family that have been so supportive through this first two months. Honestly, it would be a much harder experience without all the “cheerleaders” back home. I also have my computer back up and running so you can expect more regular blog updates in the future!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

One morning this past week, I woke up went through my normal routine of getting ready and headed out to breakfast at the Adam’s table. Sitting on the table in front of me was a bowl of fish soup, complete with a whole fish, potatoes, green bananas and broth. Fish eyes stared back at me as if to say “Good Morning! I hope you are ready for another day at school!” Now, I would not consider myself a picky eater but I am not especially keen on bones, skin or eyes for that matter. I guess that I have gotten used to the fish industry in the US that has convinced me that fish is skinless, boneless and eyeless when it comes to your table (or the skin is just on one side and easy to remove). It was one of those small challenges you don’t expect to come across but there it is facing you down at 7am. After taking a deep breath and a big sip of coffee, I went to work on the soup. I scraped every piece of meat off of that fish that I could wrestle free from the bones, skin and eyes. I saved all of my scraps on a separate plate and was relieved to find that a cat happened to be hanging around our yard. My scrapes went straight to the cat and my lack of fish cleaning skills went unnoticed for the day. Vincentians must be among the best pressed people in the world. On the van to Kingstown in the morning, everyone has on a clean, fresh outfit. Even if it is just a t-shirt, it looks nice. During my first week at the Adam’s house, I had put on clothes to go to training and Florence simply told me that I was not allowed to leave the house without pressing my clothes first. I tried to convince her otherwise by stretching the shirt and showing how once I tied it up, it would look better but there was no chance. I was to join in the ranks with the Vincentians and become clean pressed. Since that day, I have decided that Sundays are my ironing day. After church, I pick out the five outfits that I will wear for the week and then get to work on ironing. It is hot work in the midday heat with only a fan blowing a bit of relief. It usually takes an hour for me to complete the chore and I am always sweat drenched by the end but it feels good to know that Florence is proud of me when I walk out of the house in the morning. Her Peace Corps is no creasy! This past week, I was invited to attend aerobics with Florence’s sister, Edna. After a day at the Layou Government School, I hoped on a van to town to meet her at her office. Aerobics are held at the Peace Memorial Hall in a room that serves as a reception area for the concerts and recitals hosted in the auditorium. The class had four participants; myself, Edna, the former principal of Layou Government School who is now retired and a woman who appeared to be in her late sixties. The instructor, a man in his fifties, had been in a terrible car accident that left one of his legs permanently damaged. I had been nervous that the class might be too hard but after assessing the situation, I felt like it might be more like low-impact aerobics which would be much easier to follow. Boy howdy, I was wrong! The first twenty minutes of class were spent Shaking- Your-Booty. My bum went in every direction possible at the fastest pace possible for the next twenty minutes. All of those women were naturals! They could spin, shake, thrust and move those hips in all different directions. After the first twenty minutes, we grabbed “weights” that had been created by putting sand into Gatorade bottles, and did twenty minutes of non-stop lifting. “Squat deeper, lift higher, don’t stop!” yelled the instructor. I could feel the burn. We finished up the class with twenty minutes of sit-ups and Pilates style stretching. The next day, I could feel it all and it made me smile. Just goes to show that assumptions are usually wrong. I can’t wait to go this week. I figure after two years of this class my hips will be able to move like a local Vincentian!Picture of the Beautiful Layou Waterfront

There always seems to be a sign from the universe when I have landed myself in the right place. I sat in the Peace Corps office in Kingstown, St. Vincent, anxiously waiting for my host family to arrive. A woman stepped into the office, “Sarah!” she hollered. I jumped up, “It’s me!” I said and grabbed my stuff. As soon as I was within arm’s reach, Mrs. Florence Adams, my new host mother, gave me a hearty, sincere hug. Having come from a hugging family, it was just about the best welcome to St.Vincent that I could have hoped for! The universe was letting me know I had landed myself exactly where I needed to be for the next two years.

During training, I will be living with the Adams family. Florence, my host mother, is a dynamic, talkative Vincentian. She owns a lotto shop in Layou and has graciously allowed me to spend many hours hanging around the shop getting to know the lay of the land and starting the rumor that there is a new “whitey” in town. Richard, my host father, is gentle, kind and quiet. He works at Y De Lima, a variety store, in Kingstown. He has the greatest grin when I tell him that I might be knocking on his door after I move out because I will not be able to figure out how to cook breadfruit or make anything tasty out of green figs (green bananas). Justlyn, my host sister, stays with the Adams during the school year so she can attend secondary school in Kingstown. She is everything you would hope for in a 15 year old girl. She is so bright and has an opinion about everything. She loves fashion and wants to be a lawyer/psychologist, though as she explains it there is not much demand here for psychology because Vincentians have not caught on to its usefulness. Like my real sister Jenny, Justlyn is wise beyond her years.

My host family is most direct link I have to my new community. Living with a host family is an important part of the Peace Corps experience because they want us to integrate into our community so that we can work at a grassroots level, learning from the locals and working in harmony with them to create the change that they wish to see for their community. Miss Florence always introduces me as her “Peace Corps” and has shown me around to the morning bathers at the beach (retirees), shop keepers, Methodist church and pretty much every person we meet while walking down the road. They have also taught me how to wash all of my clothes by hand, iron properly and make awesome banana pie, where you use green bananas to create a casserole that can be best described as a cross between baked macaroni, squash and mashed potatoes! They have also helped me pick up on the dialect but I still feel like I am in a foreign land most of the time. It just goes to show how many different twists and turns a language can take.

Here are a few pictures to capture my first week in Layou:

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

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

Today marks the end of the first week of pre-service training (PST) and what a week it has been!

We arrived in St. Lucia on Tuesday afternoon and took a 45 minute bus ride to our new “home” for the week, Hotel Bel Jou, located on a hill above the capital city Castries. It is a very nice hotel and in some ways, it felt like we spent our first week on a mini-vacation. Our days were full with trainings but in the evenings we could enjoy the ambiance, pool and live music. The Peace Corps staff was quick to remind us that this was not going to be the standard living situation but I think we would all agree that it was a nice way to start off.

PST has been informative and eye opening. We went over the safety concerns for our region, theft and robbery, and common ways that volunteers find themselves in the hot seat. In many ways, it is hard to imagine that it could ever be me taking some of the risks that previous volunteers have taken but I know that eventually I will let my guard down a bit and become more vulnerable. That being said, PC has done a good job of “scaring me straight” and I plan to take many precautions! The Peace Corps staff has been absolutely amazing. Many of them had the group laughing through each session and everyone has been warm and welcoming. It is nice to know that they will be our support over the next two years.

EC 82, the group of people who all began PST at the same time, is a diverse and interesting group. We have a lawyer, retirees, recent graduates, a yoga instructor, a Microsoft employee, the list goes on! As a group, we have a high level of energy and many ideas about our upcoming service. The nights are spent in long conversations about anything from religion to their own children. There is a wide variety of ages and backgrounds so everyone brings something unique to the table. I am not sure what role I play in the group and I am even more curious to see what it will be like when we split into our island homes and say “goodbye” to other volunteers today. Time will be the great narrator of this tale.

Today, I leave for St. Vincent on a “puddle hopper” and will meet my host family and community! I hope that everyone is doing well in their corner of the world! From my little corner to yours, take care!

This time last year, I was putting the finishing touches on my Peace Corps application and dreaming of all the things to come. It is amazing how time flies! Today, I arrived in Miami for our staging event. Staging was a basic orientation where we reviewed policies, turned in paperwork and met all of the volunteers headed to the Eastern Caribbean. Tomorrow we leave for St. Lucia for a week of Peace Corps training as a large group. It has been exciting to meet everyone. We have an extremely diverse class-- there are people of all ages, from different parts of the country with widely varied backgrounds. I love the opportunity to get to know new friends and hear how we all ended up at this place in our lives!

Leaving for the Peace Corps has been a wonderful experience (I realize that sounds funny). It has been great to see old friends and spend extra time with family. I have had the opportunity to see how I have learned and grown through my work with the Girl Scouts. I know that I will miss the sweet mountains around Blacksburg and the friendly faces around town! I want to say "thank you" to everyone. In leaving, I have been able to fully comprehend what a lucky girl I am to be blessed with so many wonderful people in my life!

"Today is your day! Your mountain is waiting. So...get on your way." -Dr.Seuss

Hello friends, family and others! This is a blog "placeholder" for now but I wanted to set it up as I start shutting down shop in the US. Eventually I will be updating it with information about my life as a Peace Corps volunteer. Until then, I am working on figuring out how the whole blog thing works!

Thanks for all of your support and well wishes!

:) Sarah