The Final Test

Then Tropical Storm Rafael (now Hurricane Rafael) passed through St. Kitts from late Friday through Monday, dropping torrential rains and causing mudslides all through Basseterre and around the island.  Since the center of the storm sort of hugged our southern coastline, the brunt of the winds came from the South, which means that Basseterre received a worse buffeting than usual.  Many of the primary North-to-South ghauts were completely flooded and drained water, mud, shrubberies, building supplies, and even cars into the bay!  A few of us volunteers had been saying we wanted to experience our very own lifelike hurricane, since our time up to now had been dotted with largely benign storms – it seems that we got what we asked for this weekend.  In fact, there is a sort of remarkable symmetry to it: when my group arrived on island in September of 2010, Hurricane Earl had just swept through the NE Caribbean, and the island was recovering from the shock of that.  Now, as I am preparing to leave, I am part of the contingent recovering from the shock of Hurricane Rafael.

In addition, I have been without running water since late Saturday, what with the storm knocking out the power for large swaths of time over the weekend and my neighborhood's water supply reliant on the water being pumped to the top of the hill I live on.  Usually this long after having power restored would be sufficient time for the water pump to have recovered, but the fact that it hasn't is indicative to me that it may be damaged and in need of repair.  Which means that my usual routines have been somewhat transformed: taking a shower has become bathing from a bucket, washing the dishes under cold running water has become soaking the dishes in room temperature soapy water, and washing my toothbrush off with running water has become saving potable water to rinse the toothpaste off.  Even things you wouldn't think about, like shaving or flushing the commode is different.  And this being the third day as such, it's doubtless I wouldn't have made it this far without the gracious help of my good friend Joy, who delivered a couple 10 gallon water containers to my apartment on Sunday. 

Current weather issues aside, I've been struggling to get myself over the hump to actually getting ready to leave.  I'm constantly pulled two ways about whether it's too early to pack something, whether it belongs in this suitcase or that, whether I need to pack it at all or leave it for the benefit of a friend or the next tenant in my apartment, etc.  It strikes me that this may be one of those "I'm not going to get to it until I feel the urgency pressing on me" issues.  So the over-under for when I get through packing is set for, I think, midnight Wednesday.  Mind you, my flight leaves SKB at 3:00 Thursday afternoon.  Now taking bets!

I've got some errands to run in town today: get some closeout papers signed and delivered to the Peace Corps office, close my savings account at the bank, and return the LIME modem that I am using to send this near-final update.  I already held my closing interview with my APCD, which went off without a hitch.  And after capturing some last minute photographs of my walk into town, which I am going to do this morning, I will be all caught up with my list of final things to do before leaving the island.  I have to say, though – I'm going to feel kind of guilty about the state that I'm going to be leaving the apartment in if I don't get running water with which to clean it up very soon.

Also, here's to the 200th post!

Funnyquote Friday

On a date a couple Wednesdays ago, I impressed a girl with my knowledge of Caribbean cultural tropes and expressions enough to warrant the comment,

"I never met a White boy who could stroopes before."

For the uninitiated, stroopes is the act of one person, as they say here, "kissing his teeth."  That is, it's a common singular oral gesture, used when expressing discontent or distaste of something or someone.  It's usable in largely the same situations that Americans might say "Pssh!" or something to that effect.  It rings synonymous with expressions of "I can't believe it!" or "The utter gall!"

I'm finding it difficult to concentrate on the important aspects of closing out my term of service.  Yes, I'm carefully getting through my necessary medical clearances; yes, I'm considering all the possibilities of what I might be doing when my term of service ends, scheduled for October 18th; but even so I wonder if I'm doing enough to put my respective institutions in a place for them to sustain the work that I put in place without my presence here.  As so many of the Volunteers getting ready to leave will tell you, this simple answer is usually "no."  That reality sinking in even as time slips away from me, in conjunction with a few pervasive distractions, some pleasant and some not, serves to sap my strength and motivation away from what should rightfully be the most significant and memorable three months of my entire term of service.  Instead, the uncertainty of what I will be doing following my term of service is stifling, and the ambiguity of what good I could be doing now for my organizations with the limited time I have left is disheartening.

What It Could Have Been Like, v2.0

A happy new 2012 and all the best to my readers back in the States.  Just the word "twenty-twelve" is enough to make me happy, it's so euphonious in its alliteration it just kind of rolls off the tongue.

As last year's first post of the year was a hit with so many, I'm going to try to recreate the mystique of that experience again, this time putting myself in the shoes of a young girl in St. Kitts.  Please bear in mind that while all the descriptions and scenarios are inspired by the socioeconomic situation here in SKB, none are based on actual events or people.  The story is entirely fictional, and meant to inform and encapsulate the average struggles in the Federation, and not meant to disrepute any person or group of people.

I got home from school yesterday to find Greyg, my stepfather, drunk and yelling at my mother.  He had spent the afternoon at the rum shop across the street, and had imbibed too many Caribs before five o'clock.  I had witnessed this abuse one time before from him, and so I knew that there was nothing I could reasonably be expected to do to stop it.  I went to my room instead.

My room is a bedroom shared with Paul, my 12-year-old younger brother, and my younger step siblings.  My name is J'recia, and I'm a 14-year-old second form student at WAHS.  I was born in New Jersey, but can only remember living here in St. Kitts.  I had an older brother, but Shakim was killed in a gang altercation 2 years ago.  Mom believed he was going to be the first in our family to graduate from secondary school.  Due to my entering secondary school pregnant, the honorific of "first high school graduate" simply bypassed me and now lays with Paul, who is still in primary school.  My son, Skimbo, is now 6 months old, and represents the primary reason for my contemplating dropping out early, in spite of what the guidance counselor at Washy was trying to convince me of yesterday.

Skimbo, like a gift from God, came to me as a bit of a shock.  My family has always been friends with the driver of the bus Too Fast, so about the time I began seeking trans around the city to visit my friends from school, I preferred to use his services, since he didn't charge me.  One night, however, after the last patron was dropped off in the country, we took a detour from heading back into town, where he raped me.  I carried out the resultant pregnancy to term, as my family and pastor said I had to, and now my mother and I have an additional 6-month-old charge.  While I resent having my body and honor taken advantage of, I don't hate the man, and still see him in town frequently.  Mostly, I'm thankful for my beautiful son, and dutiful to bring him up in this warm corner of an otherwise cold world. 

As I lay down on my pallet contemplating these things, Paul comes in after me, seemingly undisturbed by the cacophony of Greyg's shouting outside the door.  The smell of dope wafts around him.  When I inquire, he says he doesn't partake, but he was hanging around with a group of older boys who were smoking.  He says it with the ease of someone with no guilt, so I don't press the subject; he hardly has a reason to hide anything from his older sister.  Instead, he continues on about the boys, clearly and profoundly impressed.  The hair starts to raise on the back of my neck, and just as I open my mouth to confront him, he beats me to the punch:

He says he wants to join their gang.

I hope you enjoyed/were moved/learned a little from my story.  Leave a comment if you were.

I'm due to start back at work on Wednesday (I think), and so am looking forward to getting back into a routine.  Carnival has been good this year, with a much more relaxed feel to it.  I have been able to take part in the activities I wanted to, with full knowledge of what to expect ahead of time, which has made it far more easy-going for me.  In fact, the longer I do this, the more I agree that a two year term of service is a very good length of time to be immersed in another country.  Granted, it is a very long time, but in the end, just long enough to ensure that one has taken part in everything one can in a calendar year.  So thanks, Peace Corps, for that.

My Third Top 11

Only been here a year, and already I can fill up a list of these occasionally ironic, often comical, potentially awkward situations where I have revealed previously unknown connections to friends and acquaintances on island.  It may be a small world after all, but around here I like to refer to them as Small Island moments – because every time they happen, you can't help but be reminded just how small this island is.  So, without further ado,

My Top 11...

"Small Island" Moments

11    When I helped a fellow volunteer film the teaser for her Healthy Breakfast project (you can see the video here), the music was provided by two gentlemen volunteering from the Ministry of Culture, a Mr. Nigel Williams who played guitar, and a djembe player who introduced himself simply as "Roy."  Not a week later, when reading through some past SKN volunteers' blogs, I stumble across a picture of an old volunteer and her on-island percussion instructor, Mr. Royd.  It was the same man.
10    I made a friend playing soccer.  Justin is a showboating, flashy striker who has good touch on the ball, but takes lots of high-difficulty shots on goal.  Nonetheless, I didn't have too many allies on the pitch, so by passing him the ball a whole lot, I made an ally.  The following week, at work, some students in the A/C Repair class asked if their instructor Mr. Caines was in, and I said I wasn't sure.  That afternoon, Mr. Caines came by to take his class to the worksite – and he turned out to be Justin.
9    The volunteer that lives closest to me lives in a duplex in Palmetto Point.  She told me once that I must enjoy working at the NSTP, and that I must be especially glad that the administrative assistant at the NSTP also works there, since she was so attractive.  Knowing that she had never been to my office, I asked what she was talking about, and how she knew who our administrative assistant was.  She said, "Oh, Tonesha's mother and stepfather are my landlords."
8    I had a quick initiation into the Hash House Harriers, the so-called "drinking club with a running problem" that (at the time) boasted about 50 local members.  Part of the difficulty of being a Peace Corps Volunteer is not having our own transportation, and the Hash runs are held in obscure, sometimes difficult to reach places all around the island.  My neighbor, a retired British expatriate, plays chess, and when I had him over for a couple matches, I mentioned my difficulty in getting to the Hashes.  He said not to worry about it – he goes every month, and would give me a lift.
7    Also living in the same duplex in Palmetto Point is a Peace Corps Response Volunteer, who, coincidentally, was planning a short trip back home at the same time I was returning for a friend's wedding.  As we had the same American Airlines flight out, we coordinated a Taxi together, sharing the cost.  A friend recommended a local driver out of Trinity (near Palmetto Point) and through discussion it turned out that the driver, Greg Seaton, was Tonesha's uncle, the brother of the PCRV's landlord.
6    Mr. Lawrence is the second-stream 6th grade teacher at Dr. William Connor Primary.  A young, humorless, sharp wit, I had occasion to work closely with him on the Math Activities booklet.  He remained very distant through the process, as though he never really felt comfortable working with me.  My host father is a jovial, warm, well-to-do Nevisian who is content to employ some social connections to hang on to a few part-time jobs here and there, even after retirement.  One Sunday on the way home from attending church, he and I both spotted Mr. Lawrence walking with his daughter on the sidewalk.  My host father slowed and said, "Hang on, I should stop a minute to talk to my son and granddaughter."
5    My girlfriend's air conditioning unit was faltering: the minimum temperature had risen noticeably, and when she turned it on, it took significantly longer to cool off the room.  Since the blower and display seemed unaffected, I assumed it had something to do with the refrigerant.  When she informed her landlady of the situation, she said the A/C repairman would be around to handle it that evening.  A few hours later, a girl drove up to the apartment and let out her boyfriend, apparently the A/C repairman, who turned out to be... Justin Caines.
4    My first trip to Nevis, I broke my digital camera.  I spent the month following looking for suitable on-island replacements, of which there were none.  I tried all the tech stores I knew, including one upstairs at Port Zante.  I recall the man there was clearly a vocal American, and seemed willing but unable to help me find the quality of digital camera I was looking for, short of ordering it and incurring the unsavory customs tax.  Tuesday night trivia at Frigate Bay is a weekly ritual for me and another Peace Corps volunteer.  Through trivia, we have made friends with a number of non-locals, including Sam, a tall, loud young man with a bushy head of curly hair.  After a few weeks, I asked Sam what he did on-island – he said he owns and runs a tech store upstairs at Port Zante.
3    Since meeting him, Mr. Greg Seaton has been my go-to taxi service whenever I've needed one – his cell number stays in my phone for emergencies.  When he picked me up to go to the airport, and noted where I lived, he asked if I had a girlfriend who was a Ross student.  Confused, I said I did, but how did he know?  He mentioned that he brought a girl over to my neighborhood a few weeks back, who said she was going to see her boyfriend.  Was I that boyfriend?  I couldn't say for sure, since I didn't remember my girlfriend mentioning anything about hitching a lift with a taxi.  He said she was dressed very exotically (think, say, East Indian exotic).  I conceded, astonished, that it must have been her.
2    My first week in St. Kitts included a visit to my host father's church and an orientation at my new job site.  The pastor at church that first Sunday morning was the associate rector, the reverend Father Christopher Archibald.  On Thursday, my boss at work informed me that he was being promoted out of the organization, and they were advancing his subordinate, Mrs. June James, to be my new acting boss.  After the independence celebrations that September, when I heard Father Archibald deliver a rousing message at the State Service Mass, I was chatting about it with my boss, who casually informed me, "Oh, he's my brother."

And the number 1 Small Island moment...
1    No island is "smaller" than Nevis.  When arriving at Nevis for an evening get-together, I took a late ferry and arrived after dark.  It was the first time finding my way around Charlestown on my own, and I got a little turned around, ending up at the Westbound bus stop when I was looking for the Eastbound bus stop.  One large figure, in his late 20s, noticed my wandering, and asked if I knew where I was going.  I assured him I was fine, and asked if the buses here went to Rawlins Ground.  He responded by asking me if I was going to the Peace Corps party in the country.  Dumbfounded, I figured it was useless to lie at this point, and said I was.  His eyes lit up, and said "Great!  That's where I'm going.  I'll show you how to get there!"

Status update coming up on Friday.  In the meantime, I have to further prepare for today's Intro to Computers lecture.

Ah So Dey Be

Have you ever tasted a ripe mango so soft and sweet, that it made your gums tingle? 
Have you ever heard the screech of a baby monkey calling for its mother?
Have you ever seen the lights of a cruise liner go trundling off at dusk toward its next port-of-call?
Have you ever smelled the mildewy aroma of a stagnant pond in the crater of a volcano?
Have you ever felt the velvety inside of a passion fruit husk?

I have.  But on the other hand...

Have you ever smelled the scent of rotting meat permeating the entire grocery store?
Have you ever seen a 10-year-old boy fail to hold back tears after receiving six lashes on the hand?
Have you ever tasted the acrid sweetness of undiscovered mold on bread purchased the day before?
Have you ever felt the dead corpse of a lizard under your bare feet?
Have you ever heard a tropical rainstorm pound the roof so hard, it sounded like a train?

I have.

I'll keep this entry brief, to maintain some of its intrigue.  I'm a mere one activity away from having an even 20 in the collection, and then I'm going to have it proofread before submitting the final edition to the Curriculum Development Unit to have it printed and distributed.  Wish me the best!

Of Grease and Caprice

Well, as mentioned on Friday, the long Easter weekend made for ample opportunity for some rather unique experiences, recounted here.

There is a Kittitian tradition of spending Good Friday cooking a lunch of Salt Fish and Fritters while the kids go outside and fly kites in the mild early summer weather.  I took part in the festivities by visiting a friend in Trinity, the next village over from my home, sharing an afternoon meal and enjoying local company over board games and dominoes.  (In fact, don't spread this around too much, but I actually beat a couple local friends in a dominoes best-of-three contest, and they take their dominoes very seriously! /needless whispering)  A good time was had by all, and I was able to get my mind off of being the only guy in the office that day who didn't know that Good Friday was a day off.

Saturday I got to try out a new technique for keeping in touch with family.  In the way that only he could come up with, Dad set up the Scrabble board in such a way that the webcam on their end was looking down onto the reflective letters on the board and on my stand, and the four of us together played a couple rounds of Skype rock-'em sock-'em with letters.  A truly novel experience, it made for a pleasant evening that followed a day otherwise dominated by ennui.  But now that Easter weekend is over, I do anticipate more of my friends from home being available for Skype-ing.

I did attend church on Easter Sunday, naturally.  And apart from the overtly ornamental garb worn by the clergy and the use of the Easter-only passages in the BCP, there wasn't too drastic a change in the Eucharistic service.  Which was fine by me; on a hot summer morning in a stone building filled with warm bodies and no A/C, I didn't particularly care for the service to go over the requisite 2 hours.

Monday, on the other hand, was a day like no other before.  It started with the trappings of a beautiful early summer day, inviting those of us that had been cooped up in our 328 sq. ft. apartments all weekend out into town, into the sun, onto the ferry dock, where the community was holding its annual Greased Pole Walk for Easter Monday.  The rules are simple: walk out onto an anchored telephone pole that has been slathered with pink engine grease, keep your footing long enough to reach the suspended ham at the end, and untie the ham whilst still clinging to the pole.  I took good video capture of all of the goings-on, and compiled it in the highlight reel for this month.  Spoiler alert: the whole event only took 8 1/2 minutes before the eventual victor nabbed the prize.  So our 2 hour wait in the sun was nearly for naught.

But we had that in hand, too: afterwards, to cool down, we trucked over to the Bird Rock Hotel beach, and soaked up some Easter Monday sun and shade.  I was lucky enough, while there, to make friends with a Ross student interested in a lot of the same things that I am.  She is on her two week break before summer semester begins, so she has lots of time to pal around with my PCV friends and I during that time – just long enough to share in our planned Cinco de Mayo celebration!  (Don't be the guy that asks when that is...)

Oh, and despite all the busyness, it seems I have the highlights video ready a little earlier this month:

My First Top 11

Even while I'm staying busy, I'm soaking up all the enjoyment I can get from being off from school for the past two weeks.  And I suppose that has made me a little bit lazy on my posting, so I apologize for that.  But I'll make it up to you; here is a little bit of humor that I've been working on for a while.

The Top 11...

Signs You've Been A PCV In The Caribbean Too Long

11.   Your White friends have to politely tell you to "turn the soca down."
10.   You're convinced humidity was intended as "nature's ironing board."
9.     Lunch yesterday was conch roti, cookup, and johnny cakes.
8.    You have a preternatural fear of leaving the store with more than two grocery bags.
7.    You're now referred to as, "that clear guy."
6.    Deep down, you hope driving a car is a lot like riding a bicycle...
5.    Your neighbors can't understand you because you dialeck dun get too tick.
4.    Christmas doesn't feel like Christmas without going to the beach.
3.    What's the freezer for, if not for dirty dishes?
2.    You feel the windows without burglar bars are detracting from the room's feng shui.

And the number 1 sign you've been a PCV in the Caribbean too long...

1. The smell of OFF! turns you ON!


Also, I'm pleased to announce another milestone for today: 4,500 pageviews since August '10.  Which, by my calculations, translates to roughly... 12,000 in EC!  (Just kidding.)  Many thanks to everyone!

Funnyquote Friday

Your quote for the week is from one of my Iron Band students, a 6th grader with a real type-A personality:

"I'm sure Mr. Nelson [doesn't want to listen to your problems, he] would rather go home, eat tortilla soup and watch TV."

Maybe this bit needs just a little explanation: my Iron Band gaggle and I had just finished playing a memory game, used for the purposes of introduction, where we were all required to state our name and favorite foods.  I declared mine to be tortilla soup, which confounded a few of the students, whose other choices were Kittitian staples like chicken & chips, Chinese food, sōp (that's how to pronounce 'soup' here), goat water, and cookup, among other things.  And this girl, when she was putting one of her peers "in his place," explained to him, incorrectly, that I was less interested in sticking around after practice to discuss one of his concerns.  Of course, I quickly rectified the situation, but I couldn't help but laugh at her comment.

I've been struggling mightily with loneliness the past week.  Not usually one to dwell on emotions, I nonetheless can't seem to escape the painful feeling of emptiness that resides, omnipresent, in my gut.  (And before you say so, I don't think it's just hunger this time.)  My desire for some form of close companionship has recently supplanted my need for broader social circles, which I have managed to see bear fruit this calendar year.  And I'm very thankful for that, but in turn my spirit's gaze has moved on to a more personal need.

To use a metaphor, I've been presented with a number of doors since my arrival on island, but God has seen fit to close all of them so far, which has had a less-than-delightful effect on my self esteem.  And while it still can get me down, I have managed to find a positive way to counteract the negative effects: asking my friends, especially the lady friends, to keep a weather eye open for other potential candidates.  And without exception, this is met with enthusiasm; as it turns out, not only does my friendship with these lovely people carry some weight, but, quite simply, they love playing matchmaker!  So I'm able to turn around my disappointment with the circumstances infringing on my pursual into a positive experience we can share as friends.

And I know what some would say: "You need to focus on the task at hand, and not these frivolous things."  Well, I see the long-term wisdom in that, of course, and ultimately I don't want to sacrifice any time, effort, or resources on short-term or nonpermanent pursuits.  And so my prayer is, at the last, for God to either fulfill this desire common to all of us, or else squelch it for the time-being, in only the way that He can.

Frankly, I'm hoping for a little insight from the Stones.

Funnyquote Friday

Overheard at last week's Sports Day:

"You so slow, I gonna lap you in the 100 meters."

Thursday was a change in pace for me: I got to sleep in and at noon headed out to Sandy Point, on the northwest part of the island, to co-teach a couple of Junior High classes using my Math Games.  The 13-15 year-olds received the material very well, and the only difficulty my PCV partner and I had was keeping the sound and energy level at reasonable levels with the larger of the two classes.  All in all, I've gotten great feedback from these trial runs; in addition to improving the material in the process, I'm also gathering requests for access to the ideas.  So hopefully all the work I've put in to this so far will have future pay offs.

After school was out, we trucked over to Old Road, where we met a couple more friends and we all celebrated St. Patrick's Day together.  At a little roadside shack, we engaged in the very Irish Caribbean tradition of lounging at the rumshop and playing dominoes, vigorously throwing down our bones with a loud *CRACK!* on the Formica tabletop.  It was my first opportunity to share in such a uniquely local activity with locals and amongst locals, with local friends and even local strangers who nonetheless recognized me from various local places.  It was not only a great time, but contributed to further my sense of integration in my very small island community.  In fact, funny as it may sound now, a year from now I'll probably be wishing that I had a little more anonymity in my daily activities!

My GamersCorps Achievements

Saturday was full of surprises.  One of the big ones was the revelation that they have ice cream trucks here; much to my dismay, it was the same kind that play the same silly tunes that nobody knows, as loudly as possible, and are just catchy and irritating enough to get stuck in your head for the rest of the day.  But here in the islands, there is an added twist: since the special refrigerated truck is not manufactured anywhere around here save for the States, the driver's side is, as with so many industrial vehicles here, on the left side instead of the right.  Nothing particularly strange about that, but as it is set up for children to approach the passenger's side to purchase ice cream, this means that (no exaggeration here) children have to stand out in traffic as they wait for their ice cream.  Brilliant.

Also on the highlight reel was a remarkable first: the family in my neighborhood that was the first to actually initiate a conversation with me also was the first to offer me a meal – in this case it was a sampler plate from a child's birthday party that was going on concurrently with my passing on the road, and so was a polite gesture and a good-faith gesture of their promise to visit me in my "new" home soon.  But nonetheless, I very gratefully accepted it in the spirit of a better-late-than-never housewarming gift.  And it was wonderful!  And I thought to myself, You know, I finally broke a barrier there, and I want to acknowledge it.

So in the spirit of XBOX Gamerscore achievements, I made an achievement for myself.

At that point, I thought to myself, What other achievements would contribute to my GamersCorps?  So here's a look at some of the potential noteworthy events I have or have not achieved.

Back To My Old Ways

Sorry about the delayed post; I've been much busier than usual this week, and all of my time has been soaked up in new projects and walking all around town.  The first new project is at the NSTP: In a swift and happy return to glittering familiarity, I was assigned to prepare a client information database in a MS Excel spreadsheet.  There's nothing quite as compulsively consuming as populating 25 fields with thousands of records of data over several days.  Haven't tried it?  That's okay, there are probably more rewarding ways to spend one's time – I just haven't found one yet!

What I have found that really intrigues me is a behavioral phenomenon I have recently begun to take notice of.  It is human nature, of course, after repeated exposure to certain things, to begin to ignore them.  In my case, there are a handful of things that, in the five months I have been on island, I have taken progressively less notice of.  Things like my coworkers' cellphone ringtones, cars honking loudly and rapidly as they pass, the squeaks of the S-hooks on my hammock... Oh, and that big ol' ocean in my front yard!

I can't write long; I've got dinner to cook.  But I'll be back Friday with a new funnyquote, I promise!

Moral Victories After All

I was fortunate to have a number of things go well yesterday, partly in response to my devoted attention to them.  First was my school attachment: I visited yesterday to check on the statuses of the two projects I have going right now, namely (1) the collection of ideas for classroom math activities, and (2) phase II of the library reorganization project – designating students to take responsibility for managing library activities and maintenance.

For the first, I met with the teacher in charge of math curricula, who informed me that he had brought up at the last staff meeting his intention to divvy up activities to other teachers in order to field test them.  Unfortunately, it seemed that the Carnival troupe that had prepped for the parade in his very classroom earlier this month had wreaked some havoc on it, scattering desks, papers, brooms, mops, and various implements of destruction until the original printout of activities was nary to be found.  That's okay; I'll acquire a new copy, this time at the school's expense, to replace the old one.  Hopefully the program will get off the ground soon.

For the second, I met with the teacher in charge of Student Council elections, who informed me that she had begun the nominating process, but elections are not scheduled until the end of this month, and may be pushed back due to schedule conflicts.  But she assured me that as soon as it is nearing completion, the students that will be designated Library Monitors for the term will be selected and announced, at which point I will be expected to orient them as to their duties and scheduling for the remainder of the school year.  So this project is also on track, if subject to the timetabling of another related activity.

Also a decision of mine was to get in touch with a gentleman on island who was a footballer and who would have inroads to weekly pickup games in town.  So at 8:30 on Tuesday night I visited the fields on the other side of town to partake in a weekly get-together of guys, many who had either played or were currently playing on the national team or on their respective high school team.  It was, in short, very intimidating.  I was mostly outclassed, and such an offense can hardly go unpunished.  I bruised my ankle early in the evening, and to add further insult to injury, I was frequently confronted with my poor ball handling skills, slowness to react and inability to make sufficient space.  In essence, the speed of play far exceeded what I was used to in the States, and the arrangement hardly qualified as a friendly game when all was said and done.  So I'm currently debating if attending again is in my best interests.

Lastly, I was returning home from work on Monday, and my route happened to pass by a gathering of twenty-something boys.  But I was inadvertently following behind another twenty-something guy who was walking to work at the brewery.  So when I passed, they did not yell to me, but instead asked the guy in front of me for "a dollar."  I could tell he wasn't just fooling, or being sarcastic, because of the guy's response: "Naw, man, you know my pockets empty."  No grin or laugh, just a polite dismissal.  But the fantastically unforeseeable part was that he didn't ask me!

Funnyquote Friday

Today is a special 3-for-1 edition of your favorite Friday series.  These quotes come from the column "Readings from the Peace Corps Rulebook," a department of the EC's own Serious Ting, a periodical contributed to and published by the 100-or-so PCVs in the Eastern Caribbean.  Here are the quotes:

"It's okay to let spiders chill in your bathroom 

for months... until they are the size of 

a Susan B. Anthony."

" 'Silent Night' is followed by a j'ouvert."

"Everyone in your village has an uncle in 

New York or Miami."

Interestingly enough, I did have a monstrous spider attack in December of this year – a bright orange spider about 4.5 inches in diameter (mostly legs).  Don't go thinking it was just another Daddy Long Legs, I'm inundated with those; this guy was living under the couch in order to get in on some of the ant/mosquito action.  But despite its altruistic intent, I made it clear that it was not welcome to scavenge on the same 326 sq. ft. as me.  So here's hoping it's another very long while before one builds up the courage to show its unnatural mug again.

Yes, everyone here seems to have a relative in the States, or has visited the States in many cool places that I have not.  Even my landlord currently lives in the States.  One of my coworkers spent part of the month of August this year in Atlanta.  You can bet someone on this island has been to Helen, GA.  People here are telling me about how cool (and cold) New York is. 

Yesterday I was going through some of the notes in my Moleskine from Pre-Service Training, and I happened across some poignant entries: 

• 8/25 It's funny that in a few days we've managed to redefine the word "overweight."
• 8/27 Blogging the first of my "Funny Quote Fridays."  Hope it is a hit.
• 8/28 Did Yoga in the evening.  Much more relaxed now.
• 8/29 Slept well last night.  Musta been the yoga.
• 9/03 I'm looking forward to not walking on eggshells around my host family.  It's a lot of emotional energy.
• 9/04 Rode the bus home for the first time today.  Very empowering.  Looking forward to walking home on my own.
• 9/05 Erica discovered the [Nintendo] DS so now I think the damage is done.

Ah, the things you say to yourself when you think no one else is looking.  FYI: Overweight, in this context, refers to the state of one's luggage per airline restrictions.  And don't take the wrong impression from my entry on Sept. 3rd: at the time I was still a little shy around my host family, but I am since quite comfortable around them and feel like I could talk to them about anything.  They have always been very accommodating, and continue to watch out for me from a distance.  I know I am welcome at their place any time the need arises.

For a time after the 5th, Erica would find herself outside my room if my door was open and she'd peek in and say, "You have de puzzle game?"  Since the system has a pretty simple touch-based user interface, she latched on to it instantly, and loved perusing the menus and moving blocks and changing their colors with no help from me.  I didn't mind the company, of course, but every now and then one of Erica's grandparents would query from the other room, "Erica, you are harassing Chris?" This always got a laugh from me.

I am looking forward to having friends over for dinner this evening: home-style lasagna and sauteed green beans.  Yum!

What It Could Have Been Like

A topic of intrigue for myself of late has been how disparate and unique my Peace Corps experience will have been from all of the returned PCVs I meet in future travels, even from other PCVs here in the EC and on my island.  To wit: the nature of PC interactions and influence in our daily lives is, I have to imagine, several orders more prevalent than the non-island norm.  Since most readers are presumably aware, to some degree, of my situation here on St. Kitts, I'll start by laying out a fictional, but what I understand to be entirely plausible, alternative scenario were I stationed in, say, Niger of Africa.

Settled once-for-all in my home that is comparable in nearly every way to the expected basic living conditions of the average-income citizen, situated in the village I will be expected to work and live in for two years, the few hundred people that inhabit my village will become my second family in time.  They already know me in short order and recognize me from great distances, long before I will be able to recall everyone's names.  But as I am a welcome outsider, for a time my inability to recall names or even communicate well in both French and the local dialect is forgiven.  The village nearest to mine is 50 miles to the southwest, about an hour-and-a-half jeep ride over the sand and steppe on the way to the capital of Niamey, which is another 50 miles beyond that.  The nearest PCV to me, on the other hand, is about 300 miles north along the national highway, about an 8 hour trip counting in rest stops, meals, and passing livestock, and not including unforeseen obstacles like tire blowouts, road impasses, and sandstorms.  The other PCVs say I'm lucky to be just 100 miles from the Peace Corps office in the capital, since I can conceivably ride into town, take care of important business like collecting mail from home (it's been a month since I checked last) and filling out Peace Corps paperwork and trimesterly reports, and still get back to my village in the same day.  For most of them, it is a full day's commitment, an entire day devoted to almost non-stop travel, just to take care of an hour's worth of business, maybe see the capital again while the sun is still up, then head back home the next morning, all the while being forced to miss the usual Thursday pickup game of soccer with the village youth.  A final note: the most remarkable thing to me about taking up residence here is that, even when away from my village and around people who clearly don't know me, because of my obvious difference in appearance, I am treated with inviting curiosity and generally welcome interest by most host-country nationals.  I am not treated as an outsider, but as a visitor, which provides a unique opportunity to engage in the Corps's second goal: share a little bit of my culture with my new neighbors. 

This is diametrically opposed in many instances to my experience here in the Federation.  Even compared to my fellow PCVs on-island, I have a very short trip into the capital (seeing as how I live within eyeshot, and sometimes earshot, of it), so while others have to at least budget between EC$5 and EC$7.50 for a trip into town, I can just walk with nothing to lose but a few hours and some lactic acid buildup.  Similarly, if PC staff has to visit on site for any reason, instead of a more typical, say, two-weeks notice, they have the freedom to literally call on their way.  This is all forgoing the mention of just having running hot water, electricity, and the DSL internet connection I am using right now.  I sincerely look forward to the conversations I have with future RPCV acquaintances about the expanse of differences in our respective experiences.

I gather a few shout-outs are due here.  Happy 30th anniversary, Mom and Dad.  The gift may or may not, in fact, be in the mail.  And congratulations to Meagan and Ryan on their engagement.  I can't wait to find out the date!

Please continue to pray for me, specifically for a healthy diversity of social interactions.  Granted, it's only been four months, and things will probably start getting more hectic when work starts up again, but for the meantime, it's difficult to get away from the pressing feeling of loneliness.

If I haven't already said so, Happy New 2011 to everyone.  Here's a new blog header to celebrate!

Funnyquote Friday

Your quote this week comes from Jonathan, who upon learning that I had inadvertently left my laptop's charger at my work office this past weekend, texted me the following:

"OK, that stinks.  

Well, have fun reading this weekend."

And I did.  I'm down to just 200 pages remaining in Rutherford's London, and can hear the quiet but persistent calls of the books currently waiting in the queue.  "I'll be gripping!"  "I'll be enlightening!"  "I'll return you to the nostalgic euphoria from when you just began enjoying to read!"  All good promises, to be sure.  Although it seems like fewer and fewer selections are able to make good on them.  It's probably a problem with me (and unreasonable expectations).  Especially if all of the praise and hype on the back covers of these books is to be believed!  (It isn't.)

An interesting phenomenon I have noticed: As we know, a cultural touchstone in the Caribbean is the writing of English in dialect here, which is prevalent in American literary history as well.  But despite the negative stereotype that speaking or writing in dialect implies that one is a poor English-speaker, commonly accepted even here in the islands, I believe that it lends itself to a firmer grasp of basic phonetic principles than people who speak "Standard English."  For example, if you asked a common person in the US to describe the difference between a hard "th" sound and a soft "th" sound, I believe that person would be unable to mark any difference.  And yet if you asked them to repeat the phrase, "throw the thing," they would unknowingly exemplify both phonemes.  The reader will see that the words "throw" and "thing" are said by pushing air between the tongue, extended out to the front teeth, and the upper row of teeth, whereas the word "the" uses the same mechanic but allows the tongue to vibrate slightly, giving it a soft sound.

Here in the Caribbean, a heavy accent would change the sounds to "chrow de ting," indicating again an almost subconscious awareness of the difference between the hard digraph and the soft digraph.  For in all cases, the dialect here distinguishes between soft "th" sounds by changing dem to a "d" sound.  But hard "th" sounds are changed instead to a "t" sound.  And this happens within words, too, not just at the beginning of words.

The last day of the schools' Fall trimester is today.  That means that I finished my work on the library yesterday, sorting and beautifying the last two categories of children's literature, and moving the shelves into the rear half of the room.  All of the books are in surprisingly poor condition; I wish I had more training in repairing or reconditioning these materials to improve their longevity.  I have to say, it is at once chilling and depressing to have to look on a copy of Frog And Toad Are Friends that is so dilapidated that it cannot be reasonably expected to be legible anymore.  So when there comes a time to add new books, you can be sure there will be steps taken to ensure the longevity of their respective lifespans.

And as a special bonus, nature pictures.  To tide you guys over until my camera comes in.

Mt. Liamuiga, the highest point on St. Kitts and home of the dormant volcanic crater. 
*Photo courtesy Will Murray

It's an African Green Monkey!  Plentiful here on island, imported from Sub-Saharan Africa in the 1700s. 
*Photo courtesy Will Murray

Sign outside ShipWreck bar at South Friars Bay

A black sand beach, a common sight on the island of St. Christopher

Funnyquote Friday

Your quote this week is by my PC comrade on Nevis, directed at me:

"Your references are always lost on me."

Well, it wouldn't be me if I wasn't confusing my friends with obscure nerdy pop culture references.

Not a whole lot to post about today.  I'm going to get a real PC haircut tomorrow, trading my services in multimedia presentation preparation for a free, quality 'do.  When living on as tight a budget as we have to on St. Kitts, you learn to find the lowest-cost alternatives for just about every good or service.  In the states, the time/cost trade-off leans heavier on the saving time side, willing to front the extra cost to avoid having to shop around for a better deal.  Here, with little material resources and vastly plentiful time resources, the trade-off swings dramatically in the other direction.

I have some takers for The Chronicles of Narnia for my birthday in two weeks.  I've been looking forward to seeing this movie since before I left, and so Murphy's Law is due to strike when it becomes clear that the release of the movie on St. Kitts has been delayed or somesuch.  But maybe I'm being overly pessimistic; I'm sure we'll have a good time even if the movie falls through for any reason.

I am going to try my hand at Curry Mutton tonight, so wish me luck!

Yay animated gif.

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Carnival

I had a relaxing weekend: just one trip to town to do some Christmas and housewares shopping.  No cooking, no real laundry to speak of, some basic house cleaning.  So with nothing much to update, I thought I would take this opportunity to write about the anticipated upcoming holiday events, namely Carnival, Christmas, and J'ouvert.  The December calendar looks something like this:

17 December – Official opening day of Carnival. 
If you're familiar with Carnival, you'd think that it was held during Mardi Gras, the week before Lent.  And you'd be right, except that apparently among all of the countries that hold a regular Carnival season, some refrain from competing for interest from the largest ceremonies, opting to hold their own at a different time of year.  St. Kitts holds its Carnival pre-Christmas.

18 December – Soca Monarch.
St. Kitts' own American Idol for soca stars.  Some of the island's best calypsonians will be there.

25 December – Christmas.

27 December – J'ouvert parade at dawn.
People begin to gather before 4:00 AM, and start off on the march through the circus by 6:00.  Historically, this took place the very morning after Christmas, but was bumped to the 27th this year.  I'm still in the process of looking for a troupe to join – it's a very big commercial endeavor nowadays, with many of the high-visibility corporations on island sponsoring catch-all, low-cost troupes.  Most of my friends who are also going to participate have already confirmed with one group called the "Red Devils" which just isn't for me.  So I'm still looking.

1 January – Grand Carnival Parade.

3 January – Last lap.
With no more days left to celebrate, celebrate the last day with one last go.

So that's what I look forward to following my birthday.  But won't I be working, you ask?  Yes, but I will not be going into the office starting the 17th, seeing as how it and so many other businesses are closed for holiday through the first week of January.  I have already taken steps to ensure that I have work to engage me throughout the month of December, namely the Entrepreneurship course initiative currently underway.  So no worries.

The highlights for November have been chosen, sorted, and recorded for posterity.  Enjoy.

Funnyquote Friday

Your quote for today comes from my fellow PCV and friend from Halfway Tree, referring to her internet connection:

"If the wire reaches everywhere in your house, 

it counts as wireless."

Well said by someone who carries a generous portion of the requisite Peace Corps optimism.

I am enjoying full-fledged DSL internet at my apartment, finally.  And the plumber came by one morning this week and fixed my hot water knob in the shower.  And I cooked for myself again!  So I am riding high on the shower tower of Skype hype and flour power.

I cooked on Tuesday, this time I fried some eggplant I purchased at the Basseterre market, which opens about three mornings a week and one afternoon when the produce boat from Grenada comes in.  The inspiration came from another time gone by when friends Patrick, P.J. and I found ourselves on campus for summer semester and the need to cook.  Patrick's favorite dish is none other than Eggplant Parmesan, and we teamed up to produce a satisfactory portion for dinner and, in the process, set the smoke alarms off in a deserted Freshman dormitory.  So the Atlanta Fire and Rescue got to appreciate our cooking as well!  I still remember the cooking instructions, and so I used that experience to guide an attempt at fried eggplant with sauteed vegetables on white rice with lentils.  Success?  Let's just say it was infinitesimally better than... edible.

I picked up some passion fruit at the market as well, and am waiting on a friend to show me the right way to juice them.  In case the reader does not know or forgets, this is what the inside of a passion fruit looks like:

So part of the fun of juicing passion fruit is holding back one's gag reflex in the process.  But the end result is so worth it, it comes at an easy cost.

The commercial was a success.  And more importantly, the ensuing Healthy Breakfast Cereal sale was demonstrably successful, to the point that the students ran out of cereal to sell within the first hour of opening.

Progress at my primary attachment, the National Skills Training Programme, is progressing, if slowly.  I am loosely scheduled to submit the fully revised copy of our new career development material by the middle of November, so more updates are sure to follow this month with regard to the reception of my suggested changes and added clip art.  Following that, I'll put together some interview materials to be used to gather post-service information from previous clients of the NSTP, eventually culminating in statistics and success stories to be used towards acquiring funding.  Also on the docket: setting up data collection systems to accommodate these new data, as well as transferring a large portion of the NSTP's stock of manuals and textbooks to electronic form for accessibility and preservation purposes.

I ran again this morning, making it the third time this week and in three different directions.  This time, I took the dirt road that parallels the main road going west from Mattingly, and ran all the way until I was North-South even with a visible cell tower on a mountain, a displacement of about 1.75 miles by my estimation, whereupon I came across a donkey that was hogging the whole passable portion of the trail.  So I turned around and ran back.

Some Tricks, but More Treats

I'm officially submitting my application for honorary membership in the Olympia Academy, posthaste.  I require nary a response to be assured of my immediate acceptance.  The inspiration comes from my recent acquisition of a copy of Walter Isaacson's biography of Albert Einstein, wherein the author recounts Einstein's core group of fellow physicist philosophers that would stay up nights and talk and charlar about... well, physics, philosophy, and no doubt some other topics as well.  Unfortunately, such a congregation I have not yet found on island, though I am continuing to search away.  I still require the services of Skype to take advantage of the willingness of friends both in the States and on other islands that share my penchant for deep discussions, but LIME assures me that they will be able to install a cable modem at my apartment by Tuesday.

As many a reader may have noticed, this past weekend was Halloween.  The common traditions associated with the predominantly U.S. holiday are not observed here in the islands – instead, a slightly similar glorification of pranks and trickery loosely associated with Guy Fawkes (mostly in the form of lighting firecrackers in the street, day or night) takes place the last week of October through to the first week of November.  But the dearth of familiarity did not stop a half-dozen of us PCVs from getting together, baking sweets like fudge muffins and rice krispie treats, and watching Halloween movies like Casper and Shaun of the Dead.  Nobody dressed up this time; it's underrated hard to pull off, since there are no costume shops (at least not geared towards Halloween costumes) and we couldn't be expected to pack anything so frivolous.  All in all, it made for a delightful evening, and I didn't face a bit of homesickness until I went into the office this morning and explained all of the familiar details of the U.S. tradition to coworkers...

I was true to myself and did my running this morning before work.  Furthermore, I was pleased with my performance: I ran for a full 20 minutes, going in my estimation around 2.5 miles in that time, and walked the last mile.  I ran from my apartment at Mattingly along the bypass freeway all the way to the Monkey Hill roundabout, which is about halfway down the SKB airport's landing strip, and back.  I plan to continue this habit 5 days a week, maybe meet my friend at Sandy Point to run Brimstone Hill on Saturdays, and rest on Sundays.  I'm staying realistic, which is to say I'm not going to get overly upset if I'm not able to maintain that regimen for long; alternatively, if it works out and I get bored, I want to eventually add push-ups and sit-ups to it as well.

It was brought to my attention the other day that I have not shared with my readers the nature of public transportation on island.  Since I myself am prohibited by the Peace Corps from either operating a motor vehicle or even riding a motorcycle while on island, I am quite subject to relying on public transportation every day I need to go anywhere except grocery shopping.  So here's how it works: there are two forms of for-hire transportation available to the public, taxis and buses.  However, one is not immediately differentiable from the other – both taxis and "buses" are actually full-size 16 passenger vans of every color under the sun and with large, garish script on all sides declaring the handle of that bus. (For example, some buses on that frequent my route are "Mr. War," "Sacrifice," "Big Blue," "Hulk," "Up 2 De Time," "Passion," "Jehovah Jireh," "Crunch Time," et al.)  The only real way to discriminate between Taxis and Buses-For-Hire are their license tags: Taxis read TA #### and are yellow, while buses read HA #### ("H" for "hire") and are green.  And it's vitally important that one discriminate between the two: a bus will take you three towns over for EC$2.50 or to the other side of the island for EC$3.75, but a Taxi will take you anywhere on the island for a mere... EC$45.00.   So no taxi riding while I'm here!

The bus names are a kind of cultural touchstone here; not only does it serve to differentiate bus drivers and their services (it works, too: some buses won't fill up at the terminal because people recall which ones don't have air conditioning, have bad tires, etc.), but it also is a form of expression and abject pride for the bus owners, many of whom willingly go by their handles in public and around town when not driving their buses.  In fact, it's given me time to think about what I would want my bus to be named, were I to have my own.  And I think that, short of settling on only one thing, I would want it to read, "All Dem Tings" in the drippy goo font that is so popular in that circle.  Have a different idea?  Post the name to your own virtual bus here.

MIG's created a blog.  So read it if you want.  I mean, I don't know what he thinks he has to say, and it's not as interesting as mine, certainly, but... whatever.

Also, 0 Comments on the video? Really?  I put a lot of effort into that, people!

The Good, The Bad, and the Gorgeous

I forgot to mention in my last post that when in St. Paul's parish on Saturday, I myself finally got to go Dung By Betty for a late dinner.  And it lived up to the hype – it's hard to beat the warmth and filling sensation from the heap of carbohydrates in a satisfying platter of chicken and chips.  (That's, of course, fried chicken legs and french fries with cane sugar ketchup.)  So that might have to happen again, whenever I'm on that end of the island on a weekend.

Tuesday was its own story, a deluge of frustrations, glories, disappointments, and surprises.  It all started with a vain attempt to install a wireless cable modem in my apartment, a two hour exercise in futility.  Somewhere between the technician arriving at 9:30 and him leaving at 11:30, it became clear that mere access to the two coaxial jacks in my apartment was not enough, and the entire wiring had to be investigated.  However, this involved searching the adjacent apartment, since my cable is apparently at the end of the line, and nobody residing there has access to the adjacent apartment.  Moreover, my property manager could not be lifted by phone, and it is presently unclear whether or not he even has the necessary keys.  The sad offshoot of all this is that I probably won't have internet access at home for another week at the least.

I explained to my school that I would be arriving later that day, and so they were expecting me around noon when I arrived.  However, my contacts both had arrangements over lunch break, and so I found myself again admiring the simplicity and elegance of Plan A but resorting instead to Plan B.  In this case, I walked into town, where I had a few errands to run and could pick up lunch for cheap at the bayfront. When I got there, I found both shops that had exactly what I was looking for... closed.  I did manage to secure some lunch, however, in the form of Ms. Moore's exquisite salt fish fritters and passion fruit juice.  Yet another example of a day-brightening meal, but one that my arteries can only handle once per month or so.  (Compare it to eating a BK® Whopper for lunch.  Would you do it two days in a row? No.)

I somehow worked myself back to school, where my counterparts were ready to sit and dialogue with me on the various projects I am spearheading.  Right now, those are the Math Games and Activities collection that you have heard of here before, and the improvement and expansion of the school library.  I have made a gesture of good faith in both projects already, showing my willingness to move ahead with the project and my comfort level with the implementation with respect to both.  Now, I am mostly waiting on my school counterparts to make a similar display of commitment, in the first case actually trying out a handful of the math activities that I have developed and recording notes for their improvement, and in the second case nominating a handful of students that would be willing to help take on the project of improving the school library.  Who knows, at this stage, what timing will be involved in either effort, or whether or not either project will get off the ground?  Patience is the key.

So ultimately what needed to happen at school did, and I found myself trucking back into town to try those shops again and to catch a bus back home.  Lo and behold! Both shops are open for service, and had exactly what I was looking for: double-sided wall stickers for hanging things on concrete walls, and about 30 yards of fishing line to hang a curtain of CDs in front of my washing machine and appliances.  (I don't know that I can be more specific than that now, but pics soon will clarify.)  So with the bus back home, I discovered that my electricity was out.  And just when things were starting to look up!  I still had several hours of daylight; in theory that's enough time to still cook dinner for myself and a friend, but after hanging the Federation flag and the world map on my wall, and grocery shopping for that night, I was left with about an hour-and-a-half of daylight – not quite enough time to prepare vegetables, marinate mushrooms, boil water and cook rice, sauté the vegetables, and fry mahi-mahi patties.  So we lit a few candles and waited for my neighbor to get back home.  My neighbor surveyed the situation, walked out to the fuse box, and replaced my apartment's fuse with another one, and Ding! everything worked just fine.

I was able to wright yet another miracle in the kitchen, this time with an objective judge not myself.  Despite the difficulty in trying to recreate the success of a seeming fluke the second go around, and the fact that I was partially cooking in the dark, I think the pan-fried mahi-mahi on rice with veggies and marinated mushrooms turned out very pleasing.

Did I mention I cooked for myself last night?  So, all in all, everything worked out as planned except for the internet installation.  That's the happy ending!