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!

I Believe

Whilst in a Monday meeting with my coworkers at the NSTP,  we were discussing the upcoming graduation ceremony for the A Ganar graduates.  I pointed out that I would be busy that Saturday volunteering at the 3rd Annual 5K Run for the St. Christopher Children's Home, and wouldn't be able to make it to the graduation.  And when the theme "I Believe; I Can Achieve" was discussed, I was inspired to contribute a poem in lieu of attending.  So I spent the time in the meeting composing the following poem; it was all done in about an hour's time.

My friends, my mentors, they encourage me;

My parents, my teachers, they want to see

The best come through in all I do

And show the world that I, for true,

Am worth the sacrifices they’ve made.  For

This I believe; I can achieve more

When I study those that want me to succeed.

The finish line looks far away,

But I’m being careful not to stray

From the path that takes me to the top.

Until I reach, I nah gon’ stop.

Some may doubt, but in my soul,

I believe; I can achieve the goal

That I have placed before myself.

In school, I’d fight and sweat and strive –

But thanks to A GANAR, I thrive

On the knowledge that I can do my part

To forge myself a brand-new start

Preparing myself for life’s big test.

I believe; I can achieve my best

By taking seriously the chances I’ve been blessed with.

I may not grow up to be rich,

My clothes may wear at every stitch,

But I know that yet still more import

Is found in whether I’m the sort

Of person the highest riches affords.

I believe; I can achieve rewards

In heaven and earth by doing my best every day.

I was favored with the attendance of over 50 friends, neighbors, and fellow volunteers at my 'Thanks and Goodbye' party on the evening of Friday the 28th.  Waking up at 6:00AM to start the cooking and going all the way through until guests began arriving around 5:30 that afternoon, I was almost completely spent even before the fun began.  But with the help of my good friend who showed me the ropes in preparing each of the local dishes on the menu (i.e. Cookup, Ginger Wings, Breadfruit Salad, Macaroni Pie) we got through it and was able to serve everyone who showed up looking for some good food and a good lime.  The Peace Corps and my work office were both well represented, and plenty of other friends and neighbors showed up and stayed until 10:00 that evening, just as the Tiki torches began to die out.  It was a success in the eyes of all the guests, and I took the rest of the weekend to recover.

I have but 10 days remaining in the Caribbean.  Some things left on my last minute to-do list are getting wrapped up presently: I went by Caribelle Batik at Romney Manor and purchased the portrait batik of a SK rum shop that will hang in my office, whenever and wherever I have one.  I submitted my health insurance application today, a small benefit when returning home after two years abroad.  Additionally, I was able to negotiate a discounted rate at the Royal St. Kitts Golf Course in Frigate Bay, and hope to take advantage of it this Thursday.  Aside from those three things, I'll have the first half of next week to complete any remaining trivial things before catching my flight back next Thursday the 18th. 

Rounding Off the List

The Peace Corps purchased my ticket for the 18th of next month, and so I have precisely 27 days remaining in my term of service.  I accepted this reality long ago – at around six months out, I first started dealing with the realization that I had not long to go, and that I should temper my expectations accordingly.  On the other hand, as a rule, West Indians are reluctant to deal with rapid changes.  As I wrote in my sixth and final Volunteer Report Form:

Even positive changes are met with mild degrees of consternation, usually manifesting in the form of public grumblings.  The irony of it all is that, while my initial arrivals into work and social scenarios was met with some standoffish-ness and questions of "Why are you volunteering here?" those same people are now looking at me with deep regard and asking me to reconsider leaving.  As the stereotype holds, the nature of Kittitians is to focus almost exclusively on the present, largely at the expense of the past and future.  The curious practical offshoot of this is that a full two years after my arrival on island, people are surprised to hear that it is now my time to go.  And while I have since made peace with this, my last month or so on island, it is challenging for me to have to tell the long story every time about why I can't stay any longer.  I even include the reasons why I would want to stay, like what I would do if I stayed with the Peace Corps.  It all serves to simply make me consider every time just how much longer I have before I won't be required to answer those questions any longer.

I hiked Nevis Peak this past weekend.  It was really, really hard, and largely treacherous.  A two hour climb that involved over thirty muddy ropes, at least two flat rock faces that we had to cross laterally, and one great view that made it all worthwhile in the end.  As the reader may recall, Nevis Peak is visible from my home every day, and about 364 days out of the year it is ringed at the top by some puffy white clouds.  Hence the name: as legend has it, when Columbus (re-)discovered the smaller of the two islands, called Oualie by the Caribs there, he rechristened it Nevis (Nee`-vis), a derivative of the Spanish word for "snowy."  It stands exactly 3232 feet above sea level, the second-tallest peak in the federation.

The first "window" on the way up the slope. 
You can see we are still well below cloud level, but this would change very shortly.

 I can't emphasize how treacherous the hike up the slope was.  The exhausting hike climb was replete with ropes to aid the roughly 70° angle that was our ascent for a solid two hours.  It is always damp in the rainforest, and so the ropes were waterlogged and muddy.  This made for largely easy gripping on the way up, to our benefit, but once the mud and grime on our hands dried, and with no more water to wash them off, the ropes became much more slippery on the way down. 

Our guide, Evanston, made sure we didn't veer off course. 
There wasn't a lot he could do to prevent us from falling on our face, however.

 I did come close to falling to my doom at one point, where I was anchored by only a rope above me and my foot lodged in a crack on a flat rock face with about a ten-foot drop to the next flat area below me.  As I shifted my weight to step across to the continuation of the trail to my right, my anchor foot slipped, but thankfully did not dislodge.  If it had, our guide might have witnessed his first unconscious guest on the hike in the hundreds of trips he has taken up and down the mountain.

After two muddy and sweat-drenched hours, we finally reached the cloudy peak.

Yes, the view from the top was worth the climb; it always is, it seems.  While I was exhilarated that I had made it, the part of me that was sympathetic with my browbeaten body was disappointed that I couldn't be mad at the mountain for failing to deliver.  (Does that even make sense?)

It was Independence Week in the Federation this past week.  National Heroes Day, celebrated on the 16th of September and largely equivalent to Presidents' Day in the US, gave us Monday the 17th off from work, and Independence day is celebrated on the 19th.  This is the Federation's 29th year of independence from Great Britain.  I celebrated my doing something I had not done before: I attended the Governor-General's Ball at the Governor's Mansion on Wednesday night.  A formal event, I wore my suit and crashed the event with some of my PCV colleagues.  (This is, apparently, common practice: while no PCV has officially received an invitation in the three independence seasons I've been here, a handful of volunteers have, in fact, attended each year.)  Everybody was there; I saw people that I hadn't run into in nearly a year's time (small island, don't forget!).  In fact, so many people attended that they managed to run out of catered food a good hour before it was time to leave.  And they even ran out of drinks before the night was over, to the disappointment of many.

I'm hosting a "Goodbye" party at my home in a week's time: on Friday the 28th, I'll be cooking local dishes for upwards of 60 persons for a handful of hours at my apartment.  As you know, my space isn't nearly large enough to house that many people, so I'm setting up a shade tent on the lawn and some Tiki torches and having the party mostly outside.  And I'm not equipped to provide people with snacks and drinks for the entire night, so I'm having the party go from 4:30 (early, to accommodate those Atlantic-side denizens that require two bus rides to get home) to 8:30; essentially 2 hours before sunset to 2 hours after sunset.  Hopefully I will put the EC$100-worth of Tiki torches to good use in that time.