Well MASH has come and gone. In the end it was an endurance event, a kind of a marathon with glitter. VSO along with other volunteer aide organizations put together a float to celebrate the international year of the volunteer. (Hats off to Thea who pulled around the clock shifts to get this happening) We other VSO’s were all lucky enough to get to participate in the biggest annual event in Guyana from the inside out.
Mash week started with rain, then more rain, then serious rain, and finally flooding. The day before the national holiday rumours start flying that MASH was about to be cancelled due to a partially flooded parade route (Really! I could not believe that with less than 24 hrs you could attempt to cancel a national public holiday, one in which folks travel from all over the country to attend, and which every work place will be closed and thousands of people have worked weeks to make costumes, floats etc)...Secret emergency meetings are held...and word leaks out that it’s official.. it’s off and an announcement from the govt. is imminent!....no wait...now its back on...or is it off....on, off, on..? As organizers are pulling their hair out and the text messages and phone calls fly..plans are changing by the minute... and then finally the culture minister announces to the country on radio and TV...that MASH is still ON! YAY! So of course that means that the costumes do need to get finished. Two weeks of fun, frantic, semi disorganized costume making in a cool old decrepit colonial building, (with a washroom that sported toads and bats!) and at 24hrs before show time the sewing machines were still going, the glitter was flying and a wee bit of designer drama was brewing. One last shift of costume making with the added complication of a now flooded entrance to the “mash camp”, as the costume making headquarters was called and a late night pizza and then home to get up bright and early for the big day.
The big day arrives and we needed to be at MASH headquarters to “uplift” our costumes by 8am...so an early start with my full household of guests as we headed out on what turned out to be bright and beautiful sunny day.....flooding, shmooding! While waiting for the mini bus and witnessing the hundreds of vendors start to claim spaces along the parade route to set up bars, food stalls and their massive towers of speakers, we see our local goat herder come down the road with his dear flock of 100 or so goats and kids and his little red flag that purportedly clears their way through the traffic....so funny and so Guyana. We arrive at Mash camp and the flood waters have retreated, a good sign. Hundreds of volunteers are all trying to fit into the bright orange shorts, head pieces, are cutting and self painting their shirts and soon the room is a sea of orange and gold attire....it is great fun getting dressed and painting each other with glitter and trying to find a pair of shorts that are not too big or too small. We eventually are all dressed in our finery and head off to our place as nearly first in parade ten blocks away....and then we wait, and wait and wait some more...Finally we are marshalled to begin with strict orders from our designer/choreographer to stay in three lines (there are about 200 of us...so this seems like a challenge, but in fact is quite strictly enforced until the gruelling end). We look great...the overall effect of a sea of gold and orange is achieved and we are encouraged to wave, dance, whine and do a side to side step dance (but any movement other than walking made my shorts fall down, so improvisation was required to keep them up). Of course the sun is now very hot, and paper head bands, sweat and glitter make a fiercely sticky and challenging combination. The parade itself is a blast despite it’s epic length and the overall heat, some drop out due to heat exhaustion, others to sun burn and some just plain fainted. I hung in there for EFI (every f-ing inch)despite getting beaned in the head by a flying flagpole. We were kept well hydrated in our march lines with drinks, pine tarts and juice provided for the duration. The audience is awesome, all kinds of familes with tarps and bbqs set up, kids with their hairs respendent with decor and a highly festive mood....we whiteys get a few good laughs...and everyone takes your picture!
at times we had to wait...then wait...then oh let’s wait again...for media, interviews, the judges, for other floats to catch up...and well for just plain waiting it seemed. The waiting was hard,....as there was no shade and man large vinyl neck and cod pieces are heavy and hot as hell to wear especially over top of a too large cotton tshirt and tight in the thigh but loose in the waist nylon orange short that simultaneously felt like they would fall off or split at any moment. Finally three hours later we make it up to the national park to the stadium where we wait outside like a team of gladiators entering an arena to meet the lions...finally the emperor deems it is time for us and in an Olympic like entry we are announced into the stadium and instructed to run and dance...this after three hours of marching and baking in the sun. Well we had no choice, this was the big judging time...and I’m telling you running, staying in your line and keeping your shorts up all at the same time is hard. They played our theme song...again, then again, and oh hell why not let’s play it again. Nearly four laps later we are still running around the stadium while they talked about volunteers and our representation of Athens and Greece (is that our costumes were supposed to be?) we then head to the exit and at the last minute the beautiful Christina from Canada is pulled from the line and asked to be the queen pulling the cart for the last stretch...and then out of the stadium we went and collapsed on the grass.. Whew we did it...I felt like I had completed a triathlon...The parade incidentally goes to nearly 8pm at night, so we were rather thankful of our ranking at the front of the line..Some revellers then march for 7-10 hours!!! We got off easy with a completion time of 3pm.
7 of us ended up back at my nearby flat to strip out of our now seriously compromised costumes, shower, ice our broiled skin and basically try to de-glitter. My flat will never be the same...2 days and several serious clean ups later there is still glitter on everything and even the varnish on the wooden floor seems to be embedded with the stuff and I won’t even discuss the state of the shower....Eventually we were recovered enough that is was deemed time to head out for the street party!
What a night we had...in the end we did have some collateral damage, a pick pocketing, a mob we got caught in, lost glasses, shoes broken, a stolen bike, a poor choice of a midnight snack that made us all sick and quite a few very bad sunburns, ...and it was still such a good time....dancing, singing, saying happy mash to all you meet, feeling the festive vibe and we finally held our mini-wake and lime for our buddy Kane and his mom at his favourite haunt Seeta’s... It was incredible to participate in my first and likely my last ever MASH...Good thing I like glitter as I still seem to have some in every major orifice.
Friday, February 25, 2011
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
SOCA - MASH!
Mashramani or “MASH” as it is called here is an official national holiday in February to celebrate Guyana’s 1970 independence. The event cumulates in a carnival like parade and masquerade with a day off work for the whole country on Feb 23rd. But why wait until the end of February when you can start the party now ...why indeed...? So “MASH” fever is in the air here and many special events including cooking, theatre, and concerts are all to be held this month....Yay!
Conveniently located a few blocks from me, huge outdoor live MASH concerts will take place every weekend this month (well not convenient if you want to sleep I suppose) but who wants to sleep when you can dance? So of course we had to check it out. Having been to several concerts before in Guyana I know to expect, and was trying to remember the overwhelm I felt at the first crazy Chutney concert way back in August and realize I am now quite used to how large events are done here...and upon reflection we have a lot we could learn about concert production in North America from our Guyana friends...
Ticket Prices...$1000 GYD $5 bucks at the door!...well it was a gate...ok a bus window with cattle fencing...but still it was $5 bucks...( 5 bucks!!)...yep read that and feel very bad Live Nation Concerts....Yes I’m talking to you!! If a 3rd world country can put on huge successful outdoor concerts for three thousand plus people at 5 bucks a head...maybe you can do it for even lets say $50 a head instead of the $150 you regularly gouge music lovers for....huh?....yep nothing to say – I thought so.
Drinks...They haven’t heard of the drink only in this designated enclosed spot style “beer garden” concept down here....and wouldn’t consider anything with those kind of preposterous regulations. Instead it is a free for all with few if any rules that I can see, although bottle return is somewhat encouraged. You are free to either bring your own drinks (and some folks bring whole coolers full... an alcoholic picnic anyone?)...or buy drinks (for very cheap) including whole bottles of rum and vodka, and the promoters also contracts with local bars to set up booths around the perimeter of the massive dance floor so you can do almost do a pub crawl if you will within the show....fun times ensue with this lapse attitude towards drinking... and of course your dancing around empty bottle skills will also improve.
Food...When was the last time you had duck or goat curry at a music event, or fried fish and plantain chips for that matter ...probably never right?...But wow it is the most amazing midnight snack ever....hot curry in roti....yum. Popcorn and $9 hot dogs are no contest for fresh hot homemade midnight dance munchies.
Whining...Whining is the Trinidadian/Guyanese way of dancing and for those who don’t know it is best described as dry sex on the dance floor. The woman sticks out her booty and the gentlemen partner (or two) comes from behind and places one or two hands on her hips and together they rhythmically dance and grind like they were having a great sexy time, or making a hot porno...and at times...ok often ... there is NOTHING much left to the imagination and the activity even can progress to other more obvious positions. This style of dancing can be kind of a shock for the uninitiated...but the eroticness fits with the highly sexualized culture and the soca dance tunes ...and with the right guy..it’s tons of sexy fun, with the wrong guy...well you might just have to leave.
Concert Times...Here in Guyana at concerts bigger is better, louder is better so of course longer is also better. And really if you are going to set up speakers and amplifiers and hire DJ’s and bring in all those drinks and goats...well why shut down at 11? Why not at 3...or 4 or 5!!....or (what an amazing concept) when everyone is pretty much done.
Entrepreneurs...Supporting the local economy is intrinsic to events here...Well I think it just happens that local entrepreneurs will set up outside big events with their wares and are not discouraged by promoters...So unlike our concerts where all you can buy is licensed sanctioned products for hefty fees and $10 bags of popcorn...Here outside the gates of most concerts you can buy cd’s, corn on the cob (with gravy!), get a taxi from the hundreds waiting, buy a cold drinks, candy, jewellery, have your picture taken while you are all dressed up, etc. Etc....It’s all adds to the spectacle.
So I send a big welcome to MASH and a month of very loud Soca, Chutney and Reggae music, terrible egotistic DJ’s, tacky contests, cheap drinks, goat curry, ripped jeans so tight they defy gravity, frenetic dancing on a massive outdoor stage with 3000 thousand of your closet friends under a star filled sky where even the fire flies seem to dance.
Conveniently located a few blocks from me, huge outdoor live MASH concerts will take place every weekend this month (well not convenient if you want to sleep I suppose) but who wants to sleep when you can dance? So of course we had to check it out. Having been to several concerts before in Guyana I know to expect, and was trying to remember the overwhelm I felt at the first crazy Chutney concert way back in August and realize I am now quite used to how large events are done here...and upon reflection we have a lot we could learn about concert production in North America from our Guyana friends...
Ticket Prices...$1000 GYD $5 bucks at the door!...well it was a gate...ok a bus window with cattle fencing...but still it was $5 bucks...( 5 bucks!!)...yep read that and feel very bad Live Nation Concerts....Yes I’m talking to you!! If a 3rd world country can put on huge successful outdoor concerts for three thousand plus people at 5 bucks a head...maybe you can do it for even lets say $50 a head instead of the $150 you regularly gouge music lovers for....huh?....yep nothing to say – I thought so.
Drinks...They haven’t heard of the drink only in this designated enclosed spot style “beer garden” concept down here....and wouldn’t consider anything with those kind of preposterous regulations. Instead it is a free for all with few if any rules that I can see, although bottle return is somewhat encouraged. You are free to either bring your own drinks (and some folks bring whole coolers full... an alcoholic picnic anyone?)...or buy drinks (for very cheap) including whole bottles of rum and vodka, and the promoters also contracts with local bars to set up booths around the perimeter of the massive dance floor so you can do almost do a pub crawl if you will within the show....fun times ensue with this lapse attitude towards drinking... and of course your dancing around empty bottle skills will also improve.
Food...When was the last time you had duck or goat curry at a music event, or fried fish and plantain chips for that matter ...probably never right?...But wow it is the most amazing midnight snack ever....hot curry in roti....yum. Popcorn and $9 hot dogs are no contest for fresh hot homemade midnight dance munchies.
Whining...Whining is the Trinidadian/Guyanese way of dancing and for those who don’t know it is best described as dry sex on the dance floor. The woman sticks out her booty and the gentlemen partner (or two) comes from behind and places one or two hands on her hips and together they rhythmically dance and grind like they were having a great sexy time, or making a hot porno...and at times...ok often ... there is NOTHING much left to the imagination and the activity even can progress to other more obvious positions. This style of dancing can be kind of a shock for the uninitiated...but the eroticness fits with the highly sexualized culture and the soca dance tunes ...and with the right guy..it’s tons of sexy fun, with the wrong guy...well you might just have to leave.
Concert Times...Here in Guyana at concerts bigger is better, louder is better so of course longer is also better. And really if you are going to set up speakers and amplifiers and hire DJ’s and bring in all those drinks and goats...well why shut down at 11? Why not at 3...or 4 or 5!!....or (what an amazing concept) when everyone is pretty much done.
Entrepreneurs...Supporting the local economy is intrinsic to events here...Well I think it just happens that local entrepreneurs will set up outside big events with their wares and are not discouraged by promoters...So unlike our concerts where all you can buy is licensed sanctioned products for hefty fees and $10 bags of popcorn...Here outside the gates of most concerts you can buy cd’s, corn on the cob (with gravy!), get a taxi from the hundreds waiting, buy a cold drinks, candy, jewellery, have your picture taken while you are all dressed up, etc. Etc....It’s all adds to the spectacle.
So I send a big welcome to MASH and a month of very loud Soca, Chutney and Reggae music, terrible egotistic DJ’s, tacky contests, cheap drinks, goat curry, ripped jeans so tight they defy gravity, frenetic dancing on a massive outdoor stage with 3000 thousand of your closet friends under a star filled sky where even the fire flies seem to dance.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Living Within my Means
Yesterday marked a new achievement for me in Guyana. I managed to live for one entire month within my honorarium allowance without dipping into my personal savings for the first time since arriving here! Whooppee! This feels like quite an accomplishment and one that several VSO’s (even some who have been here well over a year) have confessed they have never done. We receive a little over 50 Thousand GYD dollars, which sounds like a big fat Wall St. paycheque but in fact it translates into only a little over $250 per month Canadian.
It’s been a long time and perhaps never since I have had to live on that little money. Mind you VSO pays for my rent, electricity and gas additionally….so this amount is to cover all other living expenses only. I am painfully aware that many people here earn less than this amount AND still have to pay their own rent and utilities. So even as a volunteer I am relatively well paid, which is humbling and I find myself not wanting to share exactly how much we get for our expenses as it may seem too lavish. I am also aware that I have the luxury of even HAVING a savings account and credit cards if I need them, and a generous family back home. It may be trite to be discussing this as I can leave here anytime and have chosen to put myself into this lifestyle, where those who really live here have not. None the less it has still been a challenge for this 1st world latte and shoe loving girl to achieve and one that has taken me six months of trying. Trying to live within my means that is and coming from our credit and debt fueled 1st world culture, it does feel good to have met this challenge. So what do I spend all my thousands of dollars on ?(and yes all in CASH!) First I get a pay cheque and go line up at the bank for quite a few hours with my passport and VSO ID card and eventually get a thick wad of bills secured with an elastic band (yep!) which I then nervously transport home immediately lest I be robbed en route. I then buy each month:
Internet $3500 ($17.50) for high speed wireless (a huge luxury here for most), but a chosen essential for me as I need it for work and communications with home. Note This is a reduced price as several of us share the 10 thousand per month fee ($50) and the one wireless router.
Water. My roommate and I buy filtered drinking water in 20 litres reusable containers $1000 ($5)
Pool Membership. $4000 ($20) (Also a huge perk and way out of the price range of most Guyanese.) one trip to the pool is $1100 per person or a membership for 6 family members is $23,000 for a month. Myself and five other VSO’s have formed a pool “family” (aww.. and hello family!) Being able to have somewhere to swim in this climate is so appreciated and I try and go and well appreciate it every day.
Laundry. I pay $2000 ($10) per month for four loads of laundry washed dried and folded (basically once per week for my sheets and towels) This transaction not only helps my neighbour’s wallet but myself as I have really struggled to wash sheets by hand and then wring them out properly....in fact I suck at washing sheets! She has an old fashioned washing machine, which helps me to feel a bit less guilty about the whole transaction. I do all of my other laundry by hand in cold water....just saying!
Cel Phone $2000 ($10) I buy four $500 top up cards each month. All cel phones here are pay as you go and you add money as needed with lottery style scratch cards...and really they are cheap, cheap, cheap. So cheap that most Guyanese keep two phones one for each telephone company so you can maximize benefits and free texts. In fact I am paying more to NOT use my still under contract blackberry back in Canada, than for my pay as you go phone here. Food for thought as we Canadians reportedly pay the most for cellular service of anywhere in the world.
Land Line Telephone. 500 ($2.50) We didn’t ask for this phone..it is just there in the flat and we have to pay our part of the bill..no one calls us on it except our landlady and of course many amusing wrong numbers...personally I think it is well worth the $2.5 just to able to get some of these calls.
So that totals just about 12 thousand dollars ($60) which leaves me basically about fifty bucks a week to buy all my food, drinks, any meals out, toiletries, cleaning supplies, bike repairs, clothing, (hah!) household items, entertainment, (hah again) and evening transportation (taxis are $1.50 each). My average weekly grocery and market bill is $6000($30) so it leaves me about $4000 ($20) a week for everything else. It’s definitely tight....but apparently it is do-able...as I did it!! I just had to stop indulging in $7 jars of olives, $5 lattes, and that nice smelling expensive hair conditioner. Oh and I finally figured out what drinks are really, really cheap at the bar!
So cheers to me for living within my meagre means (and I will attempt to do so again next month)...and I even had $6 thousand to spare this month....which will buy exactly 2 bottles of olives and 3 lattes!
It’s been a long time and perhaps never since I have had to live on that little money. Mind you VSO pays for my rent, electricity and gas additionally….so this amount is to cover all other living expenses only. I am painfully aware that many people here earn less than this amount AND still have to pay their own rent and utilities. So even as a volunteer I am relatively well paid, which is humbling and I find myself not wanting to share exactly how much we get for our expenses as it may seem too lavish. I am also aware that I have the luxury of even HAVING a savings account and credit cards if I need them, and a generous family back home. It may be trite to be discussing this as I can leave here anytime and have chosen to put myself into this lifestyle, where those who really live here have not. None the less it has still been a challenge for this 1st world latte and shoe loving girl to achieve and one that has taken me six months of trying. Trying to live within my means that is and coming from our credit and debt fueled 1st world culture, it does feel good to have met this challenge. So what do I spend all my thousands of dollars on ?(and yes all in CASH!) First I get a pay cheque and go line up at the bank for quite a few hours with my passport and VSO ID card and eventually get a thick wad of bills secured with an elastic band (yep!) which I then nervously transport home immediately lest I be robbed en route. I then buy each month:
Internet $3500 ($17.50) for high speed wireless (a huge luxury here for most), but a chosen essential for me as I need it for work and communications with home. Note This is a reduced price as several of us share the 10 thousand per month fee ($50) and the one wireless router.
Water. My roommate and I buy filtered drinking water in 20 litres reusable containers $1000 ($5)
Pool Membership. $4000 ($20) (Also a huge perk and way out of the price range of most Guyanese.) one trip to the pool is $1100 per person or a membership for 6 family members is $23,000 for a month. Myself and five other VSO’s have formed a pool “family” (aww.. and hello family!) Being able to have somewhere to swim in this climate is so appreciated and I try and go and well appreciate it every day.
Laundry. I pay $2000 ($10) per month for four loads of laundry washed dried and folded (basically once per week for my sheets and towels) This transaction not only helps my neighbour’s wallet but myself as I have really struggled to wash sheets by hand and then wring them out properly....in fact I suck at washing sheets! She has an old fashioned washing machine, which helps me to feel a bit less guilty about the whole transaction. I do all of my other laundry by hand in cold water....just saying!
Cel Phone $2000 ($10) I buy four $500 top up cards each month. All cel phones here are pay as you go and you add money as needed with lottery style scratch cards...and really they are cheap, cheap, cheap. So cheap that most Guyanese keep two phones one for each telephone company so you can maximize benefits and free texts. In fact I am paying more to NOT use my still under contract blackberry back in Canada, than for my pay as you go phone here. Food for thought as we Canadians reportedly pay the most for cellular service of anywhere in the world.
Land Line Telephone. 500 ($2.50) We didn’t ask for this phone..it is just there in the flat and we have to pay our part of the bill..no one calls us on it except our landlady and of course many amusing wrong numbers...personally I think it is well worth the $2.5 just to able to get some of these calls.
So that totals just about 12 thousand dollars ($60) which leaves me basically about fifty bucks a week to buy all my food, drinks, any meals out, toiletries, cleaning supplies, bike repairs, clothing, (hah!) household items, entertainment, (hah again) and evening transportation (taxis are $1.50 each). My average weekly grocery and market bill is $6000($30) so it leaves me about $4000 ($20) a week for everything else. It’s definitely tight....but apparently it is do-able...as I did it!! I just had to stop indulging in $7 jars of olives, $5 lattes, and that nice smelling expensive hair conditioner. Oh and I finally figured out what drinks are really, really cheap at the bar!
So cheers to me for living within my meagre means (and I will attempt to do so again next month)...and I even had $6 thousand to spare this month....which will buy exactly 2 bottles of olives and 3 lattes!
Sunday, January 23, 2011
What I love about Guyana
In a few weeks I will have been living in Guyana for six months.....and although living in a third world country does pose some challenges, and I have been experiencing a little bit of the predicted six month slump these past few weeks, there are many things I have learned to love about living in this country...so I will share all these perks in an effort to focus on the positive and be thankful for the amazing opportunity of living and working here.
Sunshine on a winter’s day ...As hot and humid and torrentially wet it can get here sometimes it is still always a summer day...and a summer day always beats a winter day....well doesn’t it? There is a little thrill I get inside my Canadian self each January day that I can dress in shorts, a light top and sandals and never have to worry about bringing a jacket, mittens or a hat as I walk out the door.
Tropical fruits of all kind...I love the fresh tart pineapples, mangos picked from a tree, the cat size red glossy papayas, the subtly exotic passion fruit, the elusive guavas, childhood tasting water melons, fragrant tangerines, the plump limes, the mini George of the Jungle bananas and the exciting spectacle and taste of a freshly macheted green coconut.... to which I may have a mild addiction.
My two wheels.... I used to say that my next car would be no car and I am living the dream folks. Even if is a two cent piece of shit bike that could be stolen or break down at any moment, she’s all mine and I love her. I truly enjoy the effortlessness of biking to and from work, seeing all the sights from the perch of my bicycle seat and loading up my basket with whatever I need to carry. The other day I was walking at the market without my bike on the way home from a trip to the regions and one of my regular vendors said to me...”Hey girl.. where’s dat pretty blue bicycle that matches your eyes today?” It seems she gets missed by others too when she is left at home!
Animal Farm...I get to see animals here every day, and many that are long extinct from urbanity and I delight in each donkey, horse and herd of goats I see in the city limits. I love the bored and melancholy look of the donkeys parked by the roadside. I love the focused look a horse gets when he is barrelling towards you at an intersection…”I’d advise you get out of the weighhhh”…you can practically hear them. And I love the goats that seem to be used as...well.. hedge trimmers! And then there are the birds... the squawking swooping parrots, the serious brooding falcons, the perky egrets and shrill song birds are each a wonder to behold. Even the street dogs, who at first deeply appalled and disturbed me, I have now embraced as a just a different way to be a dog. The restraints that we put on our pets (although they come with a regular meal, a place to sleep, and veterinary care) begins to seem almost archaic when you see thriving packs of wild dogs, each with their own hood, pups, sand pile and turf. I have seen dogs grieve over killed dogs, carrying pups in their mouths, digging tunnels, making out (doggie style), sleeping peacefully in packs with a small burro dug in their sand hill and I’ve even seen dogs fishing together out in the ocean tides at night. I still cringe to see the state of some of these animals, and have seen enough dead dogs to last me a life time... but they are also free in a way many dogs locked into condos all day probably long for.
Down on Main St.. I love that you can buy almost anything on the street. You can buy a cold drink, (beer, rum and vodka included) to underwear on a stick, hot food, fresh baking, corn on the cob (with gravy!!), freshly cut fruit, fresh squeezed juice (sold in a plastic bag with a straw), hair supplies, egg and chicken sandwiches, shoes, candies, deep fried anything, plantain chips, fresh nuts, sugar cane, candy floss, cheese rolls, DVD’s, ice slushies, perfume,…rat poison, school supplies...almost anything you might need on your way home from work is right there.... and you can even pay to weigh yourself right on the street corner...LOL!
The beautiful and interesting people I get to talk to....No matter what life here is not dull, everyday someone does or says something funny, amusing, curious, tragic, interesting, challenging, against my values, appalling, upsetting, kind, caring, insightful, tender, insulting, or overly forthright and this variety of conversation is so unlike what you experience at home. There are certainly no boring Canadian style stranger conversations about traffic jams, mortgage rates, or the weather. I love the surprise of my human interactions here....and how people reach out to you. The other day I was riding in the very hot sun on my bike and a man pulled over in his car and asked if I needed an umbrella to shade me......I declined but thanked him and as he drove away I thought of how genuinely kind and rare his offer was...and how generous and how much more often we should practice random acts of....umbrella sharing.
Sunshine on a winter’s day ...As hot and humid and torrentially wet it can get here sometimes it is still always a summer day...and a summer day always beats a winter day....well doesn’t it? There is a little thrill I get inside my Canadian self each January day that I can dress in shorts, a light top and sandals and never have to worry about bringing a jacket, mittens or a hat as I walk out the door.
Tropical fruits of all kind...I love the fresh tart pineapples, mangos picked from a tree, the cat size red glossy papayas, the subtly exotic passion fruit, the elusive guavas, childhood tasting water melons, fragrant tangerines, the plump limes, the mini George of the Jungle bananas and the exciting spectacle and taste of a freshly macheted green coconut.... to which I may have a mild addiction.
My two wheels.... I used to say that my next car would be no car and I am living the dream folks. Even if is a two cent piece of shit bike that could be stolen or break down at any moment, she’s all mine and I love her. I truly enjoy the effortlessness of biking to and from work, seeing all the sights from the perch of my bicycle seat and loading up my basket with whatever I need to carry. The other day I was walking at the market without my bike on the way home from a trip to the regions and one of my regular vendors said to me...”Hey girl.. where’s dat pretty blue bicycle that matches your eyes today?” It seems she gets missed by others too when she is left at home!
Animal Farm...I get to see animals here every day, and many that are long extinct from urbanity and I delight in each donkey, horse and herd of goats I see in the city limits. I love the bored and melancholy look of the donkeys parked by the roadside. I love the focused look a horse gets when he is barrelling towards you at an intersection…”I’d advise you get out of the weighhhh”…you can practically hear them. And I love the goats that seem to be used as...well.. hedge trimmers! And then there are the birds... the squawking swooping parrots, the serious brooding falcons, the perky egrets and shrill song birds are each a wonder to behold. Even the street dogs, who at first deeply appalled and disturbed me, I have now embraced as a just a different way to be a dog. The restraints that we put on our pets (although they come with a regular meal, a place to sleep, and veterinary care) begins to seem almost archaic when you see thriving packs of wild dogs, each with their own hood, pups, sand pile and turf. I have seen dogs grieve over killed dogs, carrying pups in their mouths, digging tunnels, making out (doggie style), sleeping peacefully in packs with a small burro dug in their sand hill and I’ve even seen dogs fishing together out in the ocean tides at night. I still cringe to see the state of some of these animals, and have seen enough dead dogs to last me a life time... but they are also free in a way many dogs locked into condos all day probably long for.
Down on Main St.. I love that you can buy almost anything on the street. You can buy a cold drink, (beer, rum and vodka included) to underwear on a stick, hot food, fresh baking, corn on the cob (with gravy!!), freshly cut fruit, fresh squeezed juice (sold in a plastic bag with a straw), hair supplies, egg and chicken sandwiches, shoes, candies, deep fried anything, plantain chips, fresh nuts, sugar cane, candy floss, cheese rolls, DVD’s, ice slushies, perfume,…rat poison, school supplies...almost anything you might need on your way home from work is right there.... and you can even pay to weigh yourself right on the street corner...LOL!
The beautiful and interesting people I get to talk to....No matter what life here is not dull, everyday someone does or says something funny, amusing, curious, tragic, interesting, challenging, against my values, appalling, upsetting, kind, caring, insightful, tender, insulting, or overly forthright and this variety of conversation is so unlike what you experience at home. There are certainly no boring Canadian style stranger conversations about traffic jams, mortgage rates, or the weather. I love the surprise of my human interactions here....and how people reach out to you. The other day I was riding in the very hot sun on my bike and a man pulled over in his car and asked if I needed an umbrella to shade me......I declined but thanked him and as he drove away I thought of how genuinely kind and rare his offer was...and how generous and how much more often we should practice random acts of....umbrella sharing.
Monday, January 10, 2011
The “Soft Skills” I Learned in 2010
Happy New Year! Having rung in the “Old Years Night” as they call it here in Guyana at home in 1st world amenity filled Canada by sipping vintage scotch and smoking Cuban cigars, I am now once again back in the developing world of Guyana to welcome the new year of 2011. Perhaps another encounter with a giant flying cockroach, another bike incident or two, more liming on the seawall, another job to complete, more roti’s to try and make as good as Celia’s, are all events that may await me this coming year. I hope to continue to progress with my volunteer work, my contribution to global society and to continue to acquire new skills and to challenge myself. Other VSO’s and myself have joked about the new skills we have all developed, some of these we have dubbed to be “soft skills” You know; the things that might not make it onto a C.V. or resume but that will serve you well in over all functioning. So here is my list of the top 5 soft skills I have developed in Guyana in 2010.
1. COLD SHOWERS 101 I now have the ability to take a cold shower anytime and anyplace. I occasionally still yelp on cooler days after the first dunking of the head into the chilly depths of the overhead spray, but actually cold water showers are very good for your lymphatic system and according to my hairdresser are also great for your hair and skin too! And well I have no option other than… “suck it up princess”.
2. Entomophobia or Insectophobia 202 I have developed a fear of giant flying insects in my face. I didn’t know I was afraid of this until it happened to me. It’s a good thing to know for future jungle encounters. I also am no longer afraid of trying to kill said giant insects as they attack me although some assistance from a valiant roommate and a whole bottle of lethal banned from 1st world insecticide is also helpful. This new fear has superseded my old fear of rats....I think. OK not rats in my face...just rats on the ground.
3. Bicycle Loading Ergonomics 303 This is an advanced course in how to transport things on two wheels. In this hands on method you learn to transport loose eggs, giant water bottles, loads of laundry, grocery bags, watermelons, flowers, ice, wooden art pieces, other passengers and still arrive alive. I am getting an A+ except for the umbrella section of the course work, where you ride one handed in the rain clutching an umbrella as I have almost crashed upon each attempt. I need a few remedial tutorials on this soft skill, but I have noticed the Dutch do it well.
4. Negotiations 406 I have studied theory on this most useful of skills back in my home country, but never had it tested to the limits as I have here. I have had to negotiate HARD with men, busses, taxis, at work, in seminars, buying food, with land ladies, police, street people, at trainings, with children vendors, street people, bus conductors, and in many other human encounters. Developing the skill to state what you need or can not do, or would like to do, firmly, fairly, diplomatically and without pissing anybody off is required to be utilized here most often. I feel I can negotiate with anyone now about anything, unreasonable dictators, bring them on…bitchy soccer moms…pushy phone sales reps... aggressive touts...HAH..I laugh at you all. No means no bitch!
5. Material Possession Awareness 503 The longer you live without some material items the more you realise they are not really needed in your life. I have now lived for the better part of five months without (in no particular order) a private living space, hot water, water you can drink from the tap, a hair dryer, a car, air conditioning, washing machines, dryers, a blackberry, a lavish wardrobe, good kitchen equipment, coffee shops, cable TV, movie theatres, an art studio, malls, comfortable furniture, butter, wine, cheese, chocolate, grapes, yogurt, and lattes and well I could go on.... All of these things will never again be taken for granted by me....and a hot shower alone will feel like a decadent small miracle to welcome back into my life.
Welcome 2011 and cheers to further learning about how to live on our shared planet, and to developing more skills, soft or not....Now where’s my umbrella and my bike?
1. COLD SHOWERS 101 I now have the ability to take a cold shower anytime and anyplace. I occasionally still yelp on cooler days after the first dunking of the head into the chilly depths of the overhead spray, but actually cold water showers are very good for your lymphatic system and according to my hairdresser are also great for your hair and skin too! And well I have no option other than… “suck it up princess”.
2. Entomophobia or Insectophobia 202 I have developed a fear of giant flying insects in my face. I didn’t know I was afraid of this until it happened to me. It’s a good thing to know for future jungle encounters. I also am no longer afraid of trying to kill said giant insects as they attack me although some assistance from a valiant roommate and a whole bottle of lethal banned from 1st world insecticide is also helpful. This new fear has superseded my old fear of rats....I think. OK not rats in my face...just rats on the ground.
3. Bicycle Loading Ergonomics 303 This is an advanced course in how to transport things on two wheels. In this hands on method you learn to transport loose eggs, giant water bottles, loads of laundry, grocery bags, watermelons, flowers, ice, wooden art pieces, other passengers and still arrive alive. I am getting an A+ except for the umbrella section of the course work, where you ride one handed in the rain clutching an umbrella as I have almost crashed upon each attempt. I need a few remedial tutorials on this soft skill, but I have noticed the Dutch do it well.
4. Negotiations 406 I have studied theory on this most useful of skills back in my home country, but never had it tested to the limits as I have here. I have had to negotiate HARD with men, busses, taxis, at work, in seminars, buying food, with land ladies, police, street people, at trainings, with children vendors, street people, bus conductors, and in many other human encounters. Developing the skill to state what you need or can not do, or would like to do, firmly, fairly, diplomatically and without pissing anybody off is required to be utilized here most often. I feel I can negotiate with anyone now about anything, unreasonable dictators, bring them on…bitchy soccer moms…pushy phone sales reps... aggressive touts...HAH..I laugh at you all. No means no bitch!
5. Material Possession Awareness 503 The longer you live without some material items the more you realise they are not really needed in your life. I have now lived for the better part of five months without (in no particular order) a private living space, hot water, water you can drink from the tap, a hair dryer, a car, air conditioning, washing machines, dryers, a blackberry, a lavish wardrobe, good kitchen equipment, coffee shops, cable TV, movie theatres, an art studio, malls, comfortable furniture, butter, wine, cheese, chocolate, grapes, yogurt, and lattes and well I could go on.... All of these things will never again be taken for granted by me....and a hot shower alone will feel like a decadent small miracle to welcome back into my life.
Welcome 2011 and cheers to further learning about how to live on our shared planet, and to developing more skills, soft or not....Now where’s my umbrella and my bike?
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
The Incense Seller
Why did you want to come to Guyana?….I was asked this last Sunday by a 73 year old Rasta gentleman who I stopped to chat with after he offered me some incense for sale. (It was a drive by sale, I was on my bike and he pulled up beside me with wares in his basket) We then pulled over to complete the purchase, $100 GYD or about 50 cents for crappy Chinese incense that I will never use, but I wanted to support him as he had asked me so nicely to buy it. We then started talking and he told me some great stories of the old days, when Georgetown was the “Garden City of the Caribbean” and pointed to where Jonestown prophet Jim Jones used to come to drink tea and we even talked about the current political situation and upcoming elections, a subject I tend to avoid out of respect unless brought up by locals. It was an awesome and intellectual conversation and after awhile I finally said I had to leave. He then asked me to come around the corner and see the ghetto with him (a VSO off limits zone I realized afterwards - whoops). “You must come to the ghetto, for what will you have really seen of Guyana, if not this…” He must have seen me hesitate slightly for he gently touched my arm and said “Don’t worry you are with me, and nothing will happen”. For reasons I’m still not sure of I instinctively trusted this old gentleman, maybe it was the peaceful cheap incense as his choice of wares to sell that inspired a subliminal confidence in him, or our conversation or maybe I didn’t want to let him down. I don’t know, I can’t really say, but I felt comfortable with him. We got back on our bikes and turned the corner and toured the ghetto together from the relative safety and perch of our bicycle seats for a few blocks. I didn’t know what to expect, I suppose I was a little afraid of what I might see…and I did see.. tears came into my eyes and what I saw made my small shared cold water flat in Kitty suddenly seem like opulent luxury accommodations for I have floors, a roof, running water, a stove, more than one room, a toilet, internet and electricity and what I think of as my terrible bike also suddenly seemed fancy and new, despite it’s thrice being smashed to the ground scars and bent basket I felt like I was driving a BMW. I had never seen anything like some of the living conditions I saw there, and I used to live a few blocks away from the infamous Downtown Eastside often called Canada’s worst neighborhood. Some people did tentatively wave to me as we passed and I nodded or waved back, yet the air was hushed and I noticed no one called me blondie or baby like usual. It was the longest four blocks of my life.
We then pulled back around to the main road from “Tiger” as this particular ghetto is called and my 73 year old Rasta escort then told me it is fact where he lived, that the ghetto is his home and he wanted to thank me and share something with me for as it turns out I was the only person to stop today to buy incense and now he could eat a meal and had been just about to go home hungry for the evening when I stopped my bike. I was truly humbled by this man, still so proud, so full of ideas and words, still charming and funny and wise and able to engage his views with an idealistic foreigner here to try and help his country. That he took the time to give something back when he has so little was deeply moving to me.
I thanked him for his tour and refrained from further offers of unnecessary incense purchases lest I somehow insult his dignity and what he had genuinely offered me of himself. We said goodbye and shook hands he then asked if I was going to the pool, and I actually was and somehow I felt so obviously like the 1st world interloper that I am. Here I am a volunteer in a developing country and still I can afford to engage in 1st world privileges such as an afternoon swim on a hot Sunday afternoon.
Why did you come to Guyana he had asked in our conversation…and I have been thinking about our encounter and his question ever since…for why did I really come to Guyana?
I came to Guyana...
To try and make a difference
To understand how things are for most of the people on this planet
To be grateful
To challenge myself
To learn about a new culture
To give back…
Yes to give back… but give back what exactly…? Perhaps the gift that fate has given me to live where and how I have in this world thus far. I’m sure none of us would choose the ghetto…but if it chooses you and is your home how wonderful if can take enough pride in yourself, your country and your being to share it and give something back of your self. Thank you incense-selling Rastaman for this, for you made my week, my month and maybe even my whole trip.
We then pulled back around to the main road from “Tiger” as this particular ghetto is called and my 73 year old Rasta escort then told me it is fact where he lived, that the ghetto is his home and he wanted to thank me and share something with me for as it turns out I was the only person to stop today to buy incense and now he could eat a meal and had been just about to go home hungry for the evening when I stopped my bike. I was truly humbled by this man, still so proud, so full of ideas and words, still charming and funny and wise and able to engage his views with an idealistic foreigner here to try and help his country. That he took the time to give something back when he has so little was deeply moving to me.
I thanked him for his tour and refrained from further offers of unnecessary incense purchases lest I somehow insult his dignity and what he had genuinely offered me of himself. We said goodbye and shook hands he then asked if I was going to the pool, and I actually was and somehow I felt so obviously like the 1st world interloper that I am. Here I am a volunteer in a developing country and still I can afford to engage in 1st world privileges such as an afternoon swim on a hot Sunday afternoon.
Why did you come to Guyana he had asked in our conversation…and I have been thinking about our encounter and his question ever since…for why did I really come to Guyana?
I came to Guyana...
To try and make a difference
To understand how things are for most of the people on this planet
To be grateful
To challenge myself
To learn about a new culture
To give back…
Yes to give back… but give back what exactly…? Perhaps the gift that fate has given me to live where and how I have in this world thus far. I’m sure none of us would choose the ghetto…but if it chooses you and is your home how wonderful if can take enough pride in yourself, your country and your being to share it and give something back of your self. Thank you incense-selling Rastaman for this, for you made my week, my month and maybe even my whole trip.
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Everyone Loves a Road Trip!
In my three plus months here I have travelled now to eight different places in the “hinterlands” as any area outside of Georgetown is called and once to the neighbouring country of Suriname. Five trips have been for work to visit regional care clinics and three have been recreational. Travel to anywhere outside of the city is by private 15 seater minibus, 4 person shared taxi’s and 30 seater wooden river speed boats. I have used all of the above methods sometimes in combination and negotiation skills, observation, a steely will and the ability to say NO are all key in securing comfortable travel within Guyana. First thing to learn (the hard way of course) is that unlike in my home country here they are all private transit operators and as such they do not have to nor WILL they operate at a loss, so all of the busses, boats and shared taxis only leave when they are full, not according to any time schedule, even if a time schedule is posted. Sometimes there is a small amount of room for negotiation at the very end of the day for example and they have to get back to Gtown and you might pay more or less depending…but mostly the price is set, and is fairly applied to all and it means you will just have to wait until your mode of travel is at the optimum passenger level. This is somewhat inconvenient if it happens to be a very hot day and you want to be somewhere at a set time and the bus/taxi you choose is sitting in the baking sun while they try to recruit the last few passengers. A few weeks ago on the return trip from Linden in the interior I truly thought I was going to faint, sitting stagnant in the broiling bus, knowing I needed to stay put to keep my relatively good window seat (= fresh air once rolling) while we waited desperately for just two more riders to choose us. No one wants the last two seats on any bus you see, as they are the fold down bumper seats and for a two hour trip uh lets just say they don’t provide a very comfortable ride and this I know from first hand experience as of course on my first two bus trips whitey got stuck there. While baking to death in Linden I was willing everyone who came anywhere near our bus to have mercy on us…”please lady I would pray…please choose us, pick our bus, just take the bumper seat, it's not so bad...help us leave….pleeeassse”. Finally after sitting for nearly an hour like a dog locked in a car we disembarked….and…ahhh the window seat. The bus parks are a crazy place of competition, salesmanship and tactical marketing and when you arrive you will be aggressively approached from multiple drivers simultaneously speaking to you and grabbing your arm to direct you their way, and each promises to leave “just now”. Don’t believe this for a minute. In fact some busses go so far as to pose “bats” or fake passengers that appear to be waiting on the bus to lure others on board, then they “fly away” (hence the name bats) as soon as you get on. This tactic works well as logically you will choose the bus that you think will fill up the soonest and therefore leave the quickest, so part of your assessment of what bus to choose is one that appears to be pretty full of passengers already. I was told that although this practice is highly illegal, they do recognize that it creates employment – hah! If you get duped, and feel tough, full of moxy and internal strength you can walk away and try another bus or boat, although they will use guilt, cries of unfairness and broken promises and will likely follow you and claim title to you if you try and get on another bus and often rather loudly, this “stealing” of passengers is rampant and competition is fierce. Once on board the bus awaiting your fateful and unknown time of departure you can purchase wares from the vendors that sell things to the captive audience through the bus windows. Some items for sale make sense like “hot nuts, fresh juice, plantain chips” and a myriad of other delicious things to snack on, but others are so odd, tarpaulins, hammers, shoes, bras and car touch up paint have also been offered to me as a impulse purchase directly through the bus window… WTF? ..Tarpaulins?? who randomly sitting on a bus might need a tarpaulin?. I wonder what his mid month sales sheet looks like? Okays snacks and plenty of water and maybe a bra or two loaded into your bags plus any hardware store style impulse items that you may have purchased stowed away and you’re off. Be prepared to hurtle down the highway at speeds that are alarmingly scary to notice on the speedometer. The record speed of I think of any travel in my life in an automobile was on the outward trip to Linden where I happen to get the front bumper seat on a mini bus (the middle fold down seat over the console between the driver and front seat passenger, and a very bad seat as it turned out, as your head hits the ceiling over any bump and it is way too close to the blaring music and the loads of stinky air fresheners that are so inexplicably popular)This speedometer was kept steady at about 140 km the whole way as the driver skilfully avoided other buses, horse drawn carts, passed tankers, cars, donkeys, cattle and motorcycles at rip roaring speeds. I even asked if he could slow down a bit at one point as I hung on with white knuckles and thought about the last update to my will and he just looked at me sideways and turned up the music. Most other drivers I’ve experienced here travel at a much more reasonable (comparitively)100 – 120 km hour. I have noticed that they will actually stop rather than hit a cow, but all other livestock seems to be fair game. Speed is essential as of course in a free enterprise model the more trips in any given day they complete they more profit they make. Occasionally you will get pulled over by machine gun toting police for checks, or have to wait for the toll bridges lunch closure, where they just all stop working to have lunch and let the traffic pile up…do they really have to all take lunch at once? - well apparently they do! Also bridges close daily for boats to travel underneath and that can take hours as well, which means you have just missed your meeting. Otherwise you may stop for gas or you also might stop so the driver can eat or take a detour to complete errands like pickup his laundry, his step child, a 50 kg bag of garlic or stop to yell at a drunk.
The boats traverse the scenic river waters ways in similar fashion, they must be full before leaving, have no set schedule but do seem to be somewhat more cooperative in filling first one boat then the other rather than several half filled ones all vying for customers at once. By law all passengers do need to wear a life jacket, and they actually insist on this, which is nice to see. The speed boats are brightly painted low cut wooden speedboats armed with massive outboard engines that render speech impossible and blast off skilfully down the river stopping at scenic river villages to drop off and pick up passengers. The scenery is indeed lovely with little islands and mangroves dotting the landscape, parrots flying overhead, and look in the water...was that a caiman?, nope a log, oh well. As soon as you land at the harbour you will be accosted and offered taxis, busses, more snacks and juice and again enter into fierce negotiations for the next leg of your journey. The 10 hr bus trip back from Suriname was even more nefarious with a pre-arranged 4am pick up (that didn’t arrive until 5:30am, and let’s just say this caused a little stress for a certain someone) then a flat tire in the middle of the savannah, where it was hot and rainy at the same time and they skilfully changed the tire while the nine passengers stayed on the bus, with the engine running and music blasting the entire time, losing only about 20 minutes time all in, it was a rather impressive feat actually. We topped this escapade with a side road passenger switch to allow for a illegal border crossing then endured the most insane border crossing ever with us two white girls standing quiet trying hard not to laugh, lest it be a crime to mock procedures and protocols, which are taken VERY seriously here.
I now embark on 7 more journeys over the next three weeks to introduce the supervisors training programs that I have developed and despite the chaos of travel I kind of look forward to driving down the highway like Super Mario dodging livestock, and seeing if you can stay alive until the next round. I love seeing the goats, sheep, and cattle all free and roaming the beautiful countryside dotted with shanty shacks, hindu prayer flags, farms, rice, pineapple and sugar fields. We will be passing through the candy bar named villages of Good Hope, Belvedere, Charity, and Pleasance at breakneck speeds with the Bollywood Chutney or Reggae music blaring, the air fresheners pungent chemical smell wafting in among everyone’s snacks, children maybe sitting in my lap, passengers with perhaps Rasta tails or burkas all looking at and smiling at the strange white girl in their midst. I can’t say that I haven’t enjoy the thrill of the ride, even if I do need to update my will...and who knows maybe I’ll just pick up that souvenir tarpaulin I didn’t know I needed next time it’s offered.
The boats traverse the scenic river waters ways in similar fashion, they must be full before leaving, have no set schedule but do seem to be somewhat more cooperative in filling first one boat then the other rather than several half filled ones all vying for customers at once. By law all passengers do need to wear a life jacket, and they actually insist on this, which is nice to see. The speed boats are brightly painted low cut wooden speedboats armed with massive outboard engines that render speech impossible and blast off skilfully down the river stopping at scenic river villages to drop off and pick up passengers. The scenery is indeed lovely with little islands and mangroves dotting the landscape, parrots flying overhead, and look in the water...was that a caiman?, nope a log, oh well. As soon as you land at the harbour you will be accosted and offered taxis, busses, more snacks and juice and again enter into fierce negotiations for the next leg of your journey. The 10 hr bus trip back from Suriname was even more nefarious with a pre-arranged 4am pick up (that didn’t arrive until 5:30am, and let’s just say this caused a little stress for a certain someone) then a flat tire in the middle of the savannah, where it was hot and rainy at the same time and they skilfully changed the tire while the nine passengers stayed on the bus, with the engine running and music blasting the entire time, losing only about 20 minutes time all in, it was a rather impressive feat actually. We topped this escapade with a side road passenger switch to allow for a illegal border crossing then endured the most insane border crossing ever with us two white girls standing quiet trying hard not to laugh, lest it be a crime to mock procedures and protocols, which are taken VERY seriously here.
I now embark on 7 more journeys over the next three weeks to introduce the supervisors training programs that I have developed and despite the chaos of travel I kind of look forward to driving down the highway like Super Mario dodging livestock, and seeing if you can stay alive until the next round. I love seeing the goats, sheep, and cattle all free and roaming the beautiful countryside dotted with shanty shacks, hindu prayer flags, farms, rice, pineapple and sugar fields. We will be passing through the candy bar named villages of Good Hope, Belvedere, Charity, and Pleasance at breakneck speeds with the Bollywood Chutney or Reggae music blaring, the air fresheners pungent chemical smell wafting in among everyone’s snacks, children maybe sitting in my lap, passengers with perhaps Rasta tails or burkas all looking at and smiling at the strange white girl in their midst. I can’t say that I haven’t enjoy the thrill of the ride, even if I do need to update my will...and who knows maybe I’ll just pick up that souvenir tarpaulin I didn’t know I needed next time it’s offered.
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