Posted about 20 videos online tonight including the infamous peanut butter collection video (link below - ate 43 jars in 2 years at site), videos of trips to Langu, Commewijne and life in the village of Gunzi. Check out my channel, username: if21
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zYAg7omrISs&feature=channel_video_title
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Coming home....
"Like a river that don't know where it's goin, I took a wrong turn and I just kept goin..." --Springsteen (song I was listening to when I get my name from Kwami and Koni)
I had put this last blog off for a whiles for several reasons. One, I needed some time to let the experience settle in; I've been back home for a little less than two weeks now. Also, I needed to wait to find some time between sci-fi movie trilogy marathons and San Francisco Giants games. Now that the Giants are basically eliminated I found sometime to sit down and write this. And my opening quote, I pay homage to the great Eddie Murphy in Coming to America. This was a movie that had been translated into Saramaccan/Sranan and I'd watch it with some of my friends in the village.
I guess the best place to start is after The Last Dance. After Basiapai's going away party, I had one week left in the village which was supposed to be a quiet week but turned out to be a rather eventful one. After the remnants of Saturday night had been swept up at the community center, I had my last fun-day with a few of the volunteers who stayed over for one more night. As to our usual fun-day M.O. we did some good cooking--banana pancakes and we made a last pizza for my counterpart, Kwami. I stayed up until 2 am on Sunday night/Monday morning chatting away with my buddies, reminiscing about the good, the bad and the taangapai. There were a lot of sweet memories with all the Peace Corps guys: the lake trip, the Langu trip and just about every Saoto Soup or beef complete with endless amounts of Parbos consumed at Madonna's.
After the volunteers had left on Monday morning, I began going through all the extra food in my meat buckets (which were used to keep the rats and creepy crawlers out of my food supply) and started hosting a lot of lunches at my house. On Monday, I did a Tuna Mac with hot sauce day and had about 7 kids come over and eat lunch at my house. The following day, Tuesday, August 16, I went to the end of school ceremony in Tutubuka, the neighboring village. It was a rather bittersweet day as I had extended my stay in Suriname to see the school kids graduate but many did not. Even the brightest girl in my village who was expected to pass the graduation exam did not. I am not sure what I could have done to help her as school materials are in Dutch, but I still wish I could have. Later on Tuesday evening, I made my last batch of cinnamon rolls. I passed out some rolls to the families that helped with cooking at my party. The next day, Wednesday, the rolls were the talk of the village.
Wednesday was a slow day. I decided to stay in my house and watch 300, which was an awesome movie. Beyond that, I spent the better part of the day resting, working on a DVD I had been making for my village and spent the night at the river doing some star gazing one last time. There are several things I miss about Suriname, other than friends, the night sky is the thing I miss most. Walking out the back door of my house and being able to see endless amounts of stars for two years was quite a privelege.
On Thursday, I began passing out some of my belongings. Being the last volunteer in the village, I needed to clear out my house. I also did my last radio show which almost a year ago I had planned on doing with the other volunteers in my group. But due to changed plans, I did the show alone with a bottle of whiskey. The whiskey clearly had no impact on my selection of songs which included "Love Me Sexy" by Jackie Moon twice in a span on 30 minutes.
The big event of my last weekend in the village of Gunzi was on Saturday night when I premiered a DVD I had made in Saramaccan with two years of stories, pictures and videos of my service in Gunzi and travels through Suriname. About two-thirds of my village walked down the hypothetical red carpet to watch the DVD and indulge in some free marshmallows. The village gave the DVD two thumbs and thought the funniest scene was when I told a story about a guy who had given me the bush medicine equivalent of viagra. For some reason, the night before I showed the DVD I was very nervous about the electricity in the village. Coincidentally, after my DVD was down playing, not more than five minutes later the generator was shut down. In conversations I've had with the villagers since returning to the States, the power was not fixed and back on for almost three weeks after my movie. Talk about a great stroke of fortune for me!
Sunday and Monday were spent saying goodbyes. Sunday was probably more difficult than Monday. On Sunday, I walked over to Tutu and spent some time at the Captain's house and watched some of the local soccer league. The most difficult part of the day was walking past all the houses on the way home to Gunzi, telling all the old men and women who I regularly pass and greet while they sit on their wooden stools infront of their porches that they wouldn't see me again. Most of them had no idea the hour had arrived for my departure and their responses were generally the same, "Keeeeeee", the Saramaccan expression for sorrow or sadness. I said good bye to some good friends too, Elsa in Tjaikonde who was Catherine and now Alyssa's neighbor whose twin children I have played with since they were two years old, two years ago; now they're four year olds in pre-school.
Monday I spent the entire day in Gunzi and did a last paddle boat expedition out to the Kadjoepai sand island with a few of the kids. Most of the day I spent with one of my best friends in the village, a 60 year old woman named Teti. I had asked her to cook me one last suti (sweet) meal. She cooked me up some rice with vegetables and then surprised me by putting boiled hog's tail on top. The hog's tail was.....memorable and chewy. That night, I made her entire family as well as most of the other people in my village spaghetti. Teti, her daughter Beita and Teti's sister Marlene, were always very kind to me during my two years in Gunzi. When I needed a meal or someone to sit down and talk with I'd go to their houses, sit down, get a bite to eat and talk about what was on my mind. I had lots of meals cooked by those ladies, usually rice with fish and some kind of green vegetable--leafy green, green beans or okra, and sometimes we'd talk for hours about any range of topics from my family, their family, how the old Gunzi volunteers were doing or just the daily happenings in the village. When I needed to learn something, they were the ladies who'd have patience with me. I'd sit down with them and I'd learn new Saramaccan words, how to weave baskets or get tips on how to paddle about back to shore--they were concerned when they saw me swim a boat back to shore once due to my lack of paddling proficiency. When I left, they filled up half of my bag with rattles, calabashes and koosus (locally worn clothing). I left them some electronics and nice pots and pans.
My last morning was hectic. I woke up on Tuesday, August 23 to black clouds above my house at 5 am before falling back asleep until about 6 am. When I was up and about again, I had a massive army ant attack at my wash house and latrine! A sea of red consuming the structure. And the kids were already invading my house by 7 am giving me some of their last drawings they wanted to send with me to America and seeing if they could score any items in the house that hadn't yet been passed out. To make matters more complicated, the black clouds from 5 am had now turned into a huge down pour of rain, the first time it had rained in the morning in over two months and I was really biting my nails when my always dependable boatman was 40 minutes late. A year ago, I may have been rattled. At this point, I was pretty much just going with the flow. After the kids helped bring my bags down to the river they had ran back to my house to raid it which upset my neighbor, I had a good chuckle over it. A few of the women stayed behind at the river and bid me adue. Tudi brought me to Atjoni and I said goodbye to some friends who had walked from Pokigron to come and see me off--Ryan and Lindsay, Franklin Adipi, as well as to some of my other boatmen friends. When Kwakoe slammed the van door shut it was the last time I'd be called Basiapai and I was off for America.
After two years of service, I can not begin to describe in any simple or concise statement what I went through in Suriname. There were ups, there downs, there were times I thought about quitting, times I thought about staying even longer. My advice to anyone contemplating doing Peace Corps: do it! I was a little disappointed in that I didn't develop a tangible skills, I thought at times the skills I had were under utilized in my village, but the life experience I had, the friends I made and looking back at the things I did accomplish, I am satisfied with what I did. At the end of the day, I could have done things differently but I am happy where I ended up. Suriname was a great country and its people are great. Since returning to the States, I attended a Surinamese living in Northern California (BRASA SF) party and was taken in by the group just like I was by so many people in Suriname itself. Coming back to the States, I am happy to be here and I miss Suriname but there will be a time when I go back to see my friends, my people, my night sky. Thanks to all who followed the blog over the two years.
Duumundu (Saramaccan final good bye)
--Chris Rodriguez, Basiapai
I had put this last blog off for a whiles for several reasons. One, I needed some time to let the experience settle in; I've been back home for a little less than two weeks now. Also, I needed to wait to find some time between sci-fi movie trilogy marathons and San Francisco Giants games. Now that the Giants are basically eliminated I found sometime to sit down and write this. And my opening quote, I pay homage to the great Eddie Murphy in Coming to America. This was a movie that had been translated into Saramaccan/Sranan and I'd watch it with some of my friends in the village.
I guess the best place to start is after The Last Dance. After Basiapai's going away party, I had one week left in the village which was supposed to be a quiet week but turned out to be a rather eventful one. After the remnants of Saturday night had been swept up at the community center, I had my last fun-day with a few of the volunteers who stayed over for one more night. As to our usual fun-day M.O. we did some good cooking--banana pancakes and we made a last pizza for my counterpart, Kwami. I stayed up until 2 am on Sunday night/Monday morning chatting away with my buddies, reminiscing about the good, the bad and the taangapai. There were a lot of sweet memories with all the Peace Corps guys: the lake trip, the Langu trip and just about every Saoto Soup or beef complete with endless amounts of Parbos consumed at Madonna's.
After the volunteers had left on Monday morning, I began going through all the extra food in my meat buckets (which were used to keep the rats and creepy crawlers out of my food supply) and started hosting a lot of lunches at my house. On Monday, I did a Tuna Mac with hot sauce day and had about 7 kids come over and eat lunch at my house. The following day, Tuesday, August 16, I went to the end of school ceremony in Tutubuka, the neighboring village. It was a rather bittersweet day as I had extended my stay in Suriname to see the school kids graduate but many did not. Even the brightest girl in my village who was expected to pass the graduation exam did not. I am not sure what I could have done to help her as school materials are in Dutch, but I still wish I could have. Later on Tuesday evening, I made my last batch of cinnamon rolls. I passed out some rolls to the families that helped with cooking at my party. The next day, Wednesday, the rolls were the talk of the village.
Wednesday was a slow day. I decided to stay in my house and watch 300, which was an awesome movie. Beyond that, I spent the better part of the day resting, working on a DVD I had been making for my village and spent the night at the river doing some star gazing one last time. There are several things I miss about Suriname, other than friends, the night sky is the thing I miss most. Walking out the back door of my house and being able to see endless amounts of stars for two years was quite a privelege.
On Thursday, I began passing out some of my belongings. Being the last volunteer in the village, I needed to clear out my house. I also did my last radio show which almost a year ago I had planned on doing with the other volunteers in my group. But due to changed plans, I did the show alone with a bottle of whiskey. The whiskey clearly had no impact on my selection of songs which included "Love Me Sexy" by Jackie Moon twice in a span on 30 minutes.
The big event of my last weekend in the village of Gunzi was on Saturday night when I premiered a DVD I had made in Saramaccan with two years of stories, pictures and videos of my service in Gunzi and travels through Suriname. About two-thirds of my village walked down the hypothetical red carpet to watch the DVD and indulge in some free marshmallows. The village gave the DVD two thumbs and thought the funniest scene was when I told a story about a guy who had given me the bush medicine equivalent of viagra. For some reason, the night before I showed the DVD I was very nervous about the electricity in the village. Coincidentally, after my DVD was down playing, not more than five minutes later the generator was shut down. In conversations I've had with the villagers since returning to the States, the power was not fixed and back on for almost three weeks after my movie. Talk about a great stroke of fortune for me!
Sunday and Monday were spent saying goodbyes. Sunday was probably more difficult than Monday. On Sunday, I walked over to Tutu and spent some time at the Captain's house and watched some of the local soccer league. The most difficult part of the day was walking past all the houses on the way home to Gunzi, telling all the old men and women who I regularly pass and greet while they sit on their wooden stools infront of their porches that they wouldn't see me again. Most of them had no idea the hour had arrived for my departure and their responses were generally the same, "Keeeeeee", the Saramaccan expression for sorrow or sadness. I said good bye to some good friends too, Elsa in Tjaikonde who was Catherine and now Alyssa's neighbor whose twin children I have played with since they were two years old, two years ago; now they're four year olds in pre-school.
Monday I spent the entire day in Gunzi and did a last paddle boat expedition out to the Kadjoepai sand island with a few of the kids. Most of the day I spent with one of my best friends in the village, a 60 year old woman named Teti. I had asked her to cook me one last suti (sweet) meal. She cooked me up some rice with vegetables and then surprised me by putting boiled hog's tail on top. The hog's tail was.....memorable and chewy. That night, I made her entire family as well as most of the other people in my village spaghetti. Teti, her daughter Beita and Teti's sister Marlene, were always very kind to me during my two years in Gunzi. When I needed a meal or someone to sit down and talk with I'd go to their houses, sit down, get a bite to eat and talk about what was on my mind. I had lots of meals cooked by those ladies, usually rice with fish and some kind of green vegetable--leafy green, green beans or okra, and sometimes we'd talk for hours about any range of topics from my family, their family, how the old Gunzi volunteers were doing or just the daily happenings in the village. When I needed to learn something, they were the ladies who'd have patience with me. I'd sit down with them and I'd learn new Saramaccan words, how to weave baskets or get tips on how to paddle about back to shore--they were concerned when they saw me swim a boat back to shore once due to my lack of paddling proficiency. When I left, they filled up half of my bag with rattles, calabashes and koosus (locally worn clothing). I left them some electronics and nice pots and pans.
My last morning was hectic. I woke up on Tuesday, August 23 to black clouds above my house at 5 am before falling back asleep until about 6 am. When I was up and about again, I had a massive army ant attack at my wash house and latrine! A sea of red consuming the structure. And the kids were already invading my house by 7 am giving me some of their last drawings they wanted to send with me to America and seeing if they could score any items in the house that hadn't yet been passed out. To make matters more complicated, the black clouds from 5 am had now turned into a huge down pour of rain, the first time it had rained in the morning in over two months and I was really biting my nails when my always dependable boatman was 40 minutes late. A year ago, I may have been rattled. At this point, I was pretty much just going with the flow. After the kids helped bring my bags down to the river they had ran back to my house to raid it which upset my neighbor, I had a good chuckle over it. A few of the women stayed behind at the river and bid me adue. Tudi brought me to Atjoni and I said goodbye to some friends who had walked from Pokigron to come and see me off--Ryan and Lindsay, Franklin Adipi, as well as to some of my other boatmen friends. When Kwakoe slammed the van door shut it was the last time I'd be called Basiapai and I was off for America.
After two years of service, I can not begin to describe in any simple or concise statement what I went through in Suriname. There were ups, there downs, there were times I thought about quitting, times I thought about staying even longer. My advice to anyone contemplating doing Peace Corps: do it! I was a little disappointed in that I didn't develop a tangible skills, I thought at times the skills I had were under utilized in my village, but the life experience I had, the friends I made and looking back at the things I did accomplish, I am satisfied with what I did. At the end of the day, I could have done things differently but I am happy where I ended up. Suriname was a great country and its people are great. Since returning to the States, I attended a Surinamese living in Northern California (BRASA SF) party and was taken in by the group just like I was by so many people in Suriname itself. Coming back to the States, I am happy to be here and I miss Suriname but there will be a time when I go back to see my friends, my people, my night sky. Thanks to all who followed the blog over the two years.
Duumundu (Saramaccan final good bye)
--Chris Rodriguez, Basiapai
Friday, August 26, 2011
The Last Dance
"It would hurt me not to come to your party."--Franklin Adipi
After two weeks of anticipation and 1000 SRD later (about 330 USD), all the supplies for my going away party had arrived in the village. The main course of white rice, chicken boiled in fat and maggi cubes, sliced cucumbers with pepper and vinegar and brown beans with onion and garlic (and probably maggi the cooks didn't tell me about). Desert would be cake with frosting, the first time I think any one in my village had ever seen frosting because no one knew what the heck to call it except suti sondi (sweet thing).
My party had originally been scheduled for August 5 but due to a nasty flew I cancelled and pushed it back a week. Due to potential conflicts with end of the school year events, I did not know until the evening of Wednesday before Saturday the 12th that I would be throwing a party. Hence, I woke up early and caught a boat to the port town, Atjoni, to buy food and four cases of beer with my boat man, Tudi. My last trip in Atjoni was one of my better ones. I went and visited Franklin, my counterpart for the condom project who told me he would do his best to come to the party, and eventually did attend on Saturday which delighted me. I also went and visited some other friends in the area for the last time before buying my supplies in the afternoon when my boat would take off. Transporting chicken on the river is quite comical. You buy three frozen bags just before your boat leaves and since no one has an ice chest to put the bags in you just throw them in the boat underneath a tarp. That definitely would break some American health codes I think.
When I got back to the village disaster struck. One of the guys slipped and we lost half a crate of beers. We were down to 42 beers, tragedy. We stored the beers in three different freezers in the village and put the chicken in the Captain's freezer. Although we tried our best to sort out who would cook what by Friday, that didn't happen. One woman showed up at my house as planned on Saturday morning to cut, marinade and cook the chicken. For the rest of the food, I ended up walking around the village on Saturday morning with a sack of rice on my head asking women if they wouldn't mind cooking some food for everyone for that evening.
Luckily I found some volunteers quickly otherwise I probably would've been too tired to dance after carrying the rice around.
My afternoon was spent hanging out with another volunteer and baking a strawberry and chocolate cake--the funfetti was baked by my counterpart's woman. In classic CRod fashion, we fingered a little frosting off the top of the can, it was delicious. After the Peace Corps gang had showed up for the party, I finally realized I had not many any deal to set-up the sound system, one of many of my mistakes on the night. So I had to rush through the village around 5 pm and find a couple of guys who could set-up chairs and bring speakers and the CD system from their hour to play some music. Everything was finally cooked and set-up at 6:30 pm for the 7 pm party. Unfortunately, the men had not washed at the river yet. You'd have expected this to go quickly but food wasn't passed out until the men were ready, after 8:30 pm.
Once 8:30 hit it was kind of a mad house. The village fed the volunteers in attendance first and then gave the kids food until the guests from other villages and finally some of the Gunzi villagers were served. This process was made more difficult than usual because I had forgotten to buy any plastic plates, utensils or cups for drinks. Luckily the village women were in a good mood because there was free food and music and lent out their own dishes.
After the men's attempt at DJing went poorly, the men's village drumming band, Tei Wei Sponsorr, began to play. Then the party took off. I was pulled out on the floor by a woman named Siki and then the rest of the Peace Corps gang followed, being pulled out by a few of the kids and older women. As I was dancing, the woman started bringing me the gifts they had made for me, I had received four bandja koosus (fabric men traditionally wear over their shoulders and covers the chest) by the end of the night. The highlight of the night was definitely when one of my Peace Corps friends began dancing with the teachers in the village. He's a crowd pleaser and everyone was pretty impressed until suddenly he fell on his butt which cracked everyone up. The dance went on until about 1:30 in the morning and my usual dance partner, a 50+ year old woman named Samai was shaking her stuff around the zaal all night one last time. When I finally snuck home, I was relieved and gave a fist pump because after a rough week of being sick and two years of service I felt like I had finally put the final touch on my service here in Suriname. The last dance.
After two weeks of anticipation and 1000 SRD later (about 330 USD), all the supplies for my going away party had arrived in the village. The main course of white rice, chicken boiled in fat and maggi cubes, sliced cucumbers with pepper and vinegar and brown beans with onion and garlic (and probably maggi the cooks didn't tell me about). Desert would be cake with frosting, the first time I think any one in my village had ever seen frosting because no one knew what the heck to call it except suti sondi (sweet thing).
My party had originally been scheduled for August 5 but due to a nasty flew I cancelled and pushed it back a week. Due to potential conflicts with end of the school year events, I did not know until the evening of Wednesday before Saturday the 12th that I would be throwing a party. Hence, I woke up early and caught a boat to the port town, Atjoni, to buy food and four cases of beer with my boat man, Tudi. My last trip in Atjoni was one of my better ones. I went and visited Franklin, my counterpart for the condom project who told me he would do his best to come to the party, and eventually did attend on Saturday which delighted me. I also went and visited some other friends in the area for the last time before buying my supplies in the afternoon when my boat would take off. Transporting chicken on the river is quite comical. You buy three frozen bags just before your boat leaves and since no one has an ice chest to put the bags in you just throw them in the boat underneath a tarp. That definitely would break some American health codes I think.
When I got back to the village disaster struck. One of the guys slipped and we lost half a crate of beers. We were down to 42 beers, tragedy. We stored the beers in three different freezers in the village and put the chicken in the Captain's freezer. Although we tried our best to sort out who would cook what by Friday, that didn't happen. One woman showed up at my house as planned on Saturday morning to cut, marinade and cook the chicken. For the rest of the food, I ended up walking around the village on Saturday morning with a sack of rice on my head asking women if they wouldn't mind cooking some food for everyone for that evening.
Luckily I found some volunteers quickly otherwise I probably would've been too tired to dance after carrying the rice around.
My afternoon was spent hanging out with another volunteer and baking a strawberry and chocolate cake--the funfetti was baked by my counterpart's woman. In classic CRod fashion, we fingered a little frosting off the top of the can, it was delicious. After the Peace Corps gang had showed up for the party, I finally realized I had not many any deal to set-up the sound system, one of many of my mistakes on the night. So I had to rush through the village around 5 pm and find a couple of guys who could set-up chairs and bring speakers and the CD system from their hour to play some music. Everything was finally cooked and set-up at 6:30 pm for the 7 pm party. Unfortunately, the men had not washed at the river yet. You'd have expected this to go quickly but food wasn't passed out until the men were ready, after 8:30 pm.
Once 8:30 hit it was kind of a mad house. The village fed the volunteers in attendance first and then gave the kids food until the guests from other villages and finally some of the Gunzi villagers were served. This process was made more difficult than usual because I had forgotten to buy any plastic plates, utensils or cups for drinks. Luckily the village women were in a good mood because there was free food and music and lent out their own dishes.
After the men's attempt at DJing went poorly, the men's village drumming band, Tei Wei Sponsorr, began to play. Then the party took off. I was pulled out on the floor by a woman named Siki and then the rest of the Peace Corps gang followed, being pulled out by a few of the kids and older women. As I was dancing, the woman started bringing me the gifts they had made for me, I had received four bandja koosus (fabric men traditionally wear over their shoulders and covers the chest) by the end of the night. The highlight of the night was definitely when one of my Peace Corps friends began dancing with the teachers in the village. He's a crowd pleaser and everyone was pretty impressed until suddenly he fell on his butt which cracked everyone up. The dance went on until about 1:30 in the morning and my usual dance partner, a 50+ year old woman named Samai was shaking her stuff around the zaal all night one last time. When I finally snuck home, I was relieved and gave a fist pump because after a rough week of being sick and two years of service I felt like I had finally put the final touch on my service here in Suriname. The last dance.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
2 nights in the jungle: No water, 2 packs of Top Ramen and a motorcycle gang
"No money, no love (pause) No sex, no children."--Saramaccan hammock talk
I walked up to the tourist camp, Tei Wei, at Gunzi on Thursday assuming I was going into the jungle for a night. As I talked with my counterpart, I found I actually was not going--there was no one who could lead me to the camp. After several minutes more of packing, deliberating and waiting, the local Gunzi "motorcycle gang", a group of four local guys who get together and ride their motorcyles through Gunzi and the neighboring villages while piding mujees (courting women), decided there was someone who could take my supplies and lead me into the jungle. I was instructed to go to my house and grab my machette and start walking into the jungle. Oh, and by the way, as I was told as the local gang rolled off, we're staying in the jungle for two nights, not one.
So I set off down the three hour trail with a friend from my village. Walking the trail, I found out I could now identify the smell of a snake in the jungle, as well as baboons; this definitely confirmed that I've been living in the jungle way too long. Our first big to do on the trip came an hour into the walk. We arrived at the Akogaandi (To become old) creek which had unexpectedly flooded and made it impassible for the motorcycles. When my friend and I arrived, we had to help carry supplies and the motorcycles over the flooded passes and across a bridge before we were back on a solid trail. All in all, it took us eight trips back and forth to bring all the supplies and motorcycles across the flooded grounds. Since my job on this trip was to be the photographer I did a lot of photographing of the guys carrying their motorcyles, guns, machetes and tanks of gasoline.
We were finally back on the trail with the motorcycles up ahead practically swerving off the trails due to the slick, muddy condition of the trails. Walking through these sunken trails, I was passed my ankle in mud and almost lost my sandles on several occassions trying to get through the mud.
By the time we made it to the camp, I realized we were not going to be sleeping at the usual camp. We were actually going ahead another half mile and building a new camp. And when I say building a new camp, I mean we busted out the machettes and the chain saw, cleared all the trees and brush in a 8 by 5 meter area and used the surrounding trees to make the base, frame and roof of our camp which we threw a tarp over to protect us from the rain. For a cooking area, we built another small structure about 1 meter wide by 2.5 meters long. The entrance was about 7 feet high by the roof progressively slanted toward the ground when you walked into the cook house. We cut and placed a big local leaf on top of the roof for cover from the rain.
After assembling the camp I needed a drink. That's when I realized my water bottle had fallen off the back of the motorcycle that brought my supplies. I had arrived three hours into the jungle with no clean water, two packs of Top Ramen, a head lamp, one change of clothes and a hammock. I would be at the mercy of my local companions to survive for the next two nights. Luckily, the guys had brought some food with them. We had a pack of bread, some rice, onions, peppers and spices. The first night, I boiled up some Top Ramen and the broth was the first water I was able to consume in about 8 hours--after a day's labor clearing jungle and assembling a camp. I finally threw on a kettle of water and put it into an extra water bottle but it was not cool enough to drink until the following morning. I scored some rice with peppers and onions before I went to sleep.
In our camp for five, four of us hung hammocks. The other guy slept on a bed we made him since he did not have a hammock. Nobody bothered to tell him that we were even staying a night in the jungle. So we cut a few trees and placed a few logs side by side on the ground and put some leaves over the wood. He then found an extra tarp which he decided to use as a blanket. Upon lying in the bed, he realized just how much his bed sucked and spent the next hour or two fidgeting and tinkering with the set-up much to the amusement of the rest of the camp. When he was finally finished, he had found another tarp which he used as a blanket and set up the original tent as a mosquito net that he suspended above the ground using sticks and vines.
When I woke up, sometime during the dark of the night, the guys were up talking and I turned back in my hammock to look at the cook house where they were huddled around the fire. But as I had been turning around, something caught my eye below my hammock. My counterpart had shot and killed a deer. And he thought the best place to store it was below my hammock and at the head of the other guy's jungle bed. I jumped out of my hammock and took a few photos of the guys with the deer and watched them skin it before going back to bed.
On Friday morning, my friend Casey left for the States and she was the last person in my Peace Corps class to leave this year save for myself. My Friday morning was spent waking up in a hammock, freezing after the coldest night I ever spent in the jungle. It felt like I slept outside with no blankets on a chilly winter night in the Bay Area. When the camp was up, we boiled the tea and coffee (direct) and ate our breakfast, a piece of plain white bread. The guy in the bed decided he had enough and went back to the village. I went out with two of the guys and took pictures as they felled trees and cut them down into planks with a chain saw. In the morning my counterpart was in charge of cooking and he stewed up some of the deer which we ate with some rice for lunch, and we began slowly smoking the rest of the deer which we ate later on in the evening. In the afternoon, my counterpart went out into the jungle on the hunt. Unfortuantely, he shot a baboon which means I would not be eating any more meat on this trip. Sadly, the Peace Corps prohibits volunteers from carrying guns (for obvious reasons), had I had a gun, I had a clear shot at a pack of a local animal called a lia. A lia is some kind of black animal that slightly resembles a big racoon and climbs trees. It was the first time I had ever seen it and I have never eaten one before.
At the conclusion of the day I boiled up my second Top Ramen packet and ate some of the barbequed deer with some peppers. I went retired to the hammock and went to sleep where I had some vivid, strange dreams about going back to America. I woke up from my dream and turned over in my hammock to see what was going on. Below my hammock, was a dead armadillo which had been shot in the back of the head by my counterpart. Again, not sure why below my hammock was the best place to put a dead animal. I spent the rest of the night constantly waking up throughout the night because of chaotic dreams and noises from the jungle. Infact, I don't think anyone in the camp that night had a good night of sleep. The next morning, everyone woke up exhausted, coughing and sniffling. My counterpart rode ahead into the village on his motorcycle and two of the guys stayed behind to work another day in the jungle.
On Saturday morning, after 48 hours in the jungle, I walked back to my village by myself. And I never did find my water bottle.
I walked up to the tourist camp, Tei Wei, at Gunzi on Thursday assuming I was going into the jungle for a night. As I talked with my counterpart, I found I actually was not going--there was no one who could lead me to the camp. After several minutes more of packing, deliberating and waiting, the local Gunzi "motorcycle gang", a group of four local guys who get together and ride their motorcyles through Gunzi and the neighboring villages while piding mujees (courting women), decided there was someone who could take my supplies and lead me into the jungle. I was instructed to go to my house and grab my machette and start walking into the jungle. Oh, and by the way, as I was told as the local gang rolled off, we're staying in the jungle for two nights, not one.
So I set off down the three hour trail with a friend from my village. Walking the trail, I found out I could now identify the smell of a snake in the jungle, as well as baboons; this definitely confirmed that I've been living in the jungle way too long. Our first big to do on the trip came an hour into the walk. We arrived at the Akogaandi (To become old) creek which had unexpectedly flooded and made it impassible for the motorcycles. When my friend and I arrived, we had to help carry supplies and the motorcycles over the flooded passes and across a bridge before we were back on a solid trail. All in all, it took us eight trips back and forth to bring all the supplies and motorcycles across the flooded grounds. Since my job on this trip was to be the photographer I did a lot of photographing of the guys carrying their motorcyles, guns, machetes and tanks of gasoline.
We were finally back on the trail with the motorcycles up ahead practically swerving off the trails due to the slick, muddy condition of the trails. Walking through these sunken trails, I was passed my ankle in mud and almost lost my sandles on several occassions trying to get through the mud.
By the time we made it to the camp, I realized we were not going to be sleeping at the usual camp. We were actually going ahead another half mile and building a new camp. And when I say building a new camp, I mean we busted out the machettes and the chain saw, cleared all the trees and brush in a 8 by 5 meter area and used the surrounding trees to make the base, frame and roof of our camp which we threw a tarp over to protect us from the rain. For a cooking area, we built another small structure about 1 meter wide by 2.5 meters long. The entrance was about 7 feet high by the roof progressively slanted toward the ground when you walked into the cook house. We cut and placed a big local leaf on top of the roof for cover from the rain.
After assembling the camp I needed a drink. That's when I realized my water bottle had fallen off the back of the motorcycle that brought my supplies. I had arrived three hours into the jungle with no clean water, two packs of Top Ramen, a head lamp, one change of clothes and a hammock. I would be at the mercy of my local companions to survive for the next two nights. Luckily, the guys had brought some food with them. We had a pack of bread, some rice, onions, peppers and spices. The first night, I boiled up some Top Ramen and the broth was the first water I was able to consume in about 8 hours--after a day's labor clearing jungle and assembling a camp. I finally threw on a kettle of water and put it into an extra water bottle but it was not cool enough to drink until the following morning. I scored some rice with peppers and onions before I went to sleep.
In our camp for five, four of us hung hammocks. The other guy slept on a bed we made him since he did not have a hammock. Nobody bothered to tell him that we were even staying a night in the jungle. So we cut a few trees and placed a few logs side by side on the ground and put some leaves over the wood. He then found an extra tarp which he decided to use as a blanket. Upon lying in the bed, he realized just how much his bed sucked and spent the next hour or two fidgeting and tinkering with the set-up much to the amusement of the rest of the camp. When he was finally finished, he had found another tarp which he used as a blanket and set up the original tent as a mosquito net that he suspended above the ground using sticks and vines.
When I woke up, sometime during the dark of the night, the guys were up talking and I turned back in my hammock to look at the cook house where they were huddled around the fire. But as I had been turning around, something caught my eye below my hammock. My counterpart had shot and killed a deer. And he thought the best place to store it was below my hammock and at the head of the other guy's jungle bed. I jumped out of my hammock and took a few photos of the guys with the deer and watched them skin it before going back to bed.
On Friday morning, my friend Casey left for the States and she was the last person in my Peace Corps class to leave this year save for myself. My Friday morning was spent waking up in a hammock, freezing after the coldest night I ever spent in the jungle. It felt like I slept outside with no blankets on a chilly winter night in the Bay Area. When the camp was up, we boiled the tea and coffee (direct) and ate our breakfast, a piece of plain white bread. The guy in the bed decided he had enough and went back to the village. I went out with two of the guys and took pictures as they felled trees and cut them down into planks with a chain saw. In the morning my counterpart was in charge of cooking and he stewed up some of the deer which we ate with some rice for lunch, and we began slowly smoking the rest of the deer which we ate later on in the evening. In the afternoon, my counterpart went out into the jungle on the hunt. Unfortuantely, he shot a baboon which means I would not be eating any more meat on this trip. Sadly, the Peace Corps prohibits volunteers from carrying guns (for obvious reasons), had I had a gun, I had a clear shot at a pack of a local animal called a lia. A lia is some kind of black animal that slightly resembles a big racoon and climbs trees. It was the first time I had ever seen it and I have never eaten one before.
At the conclusion of the day I boiled up my second Top Ramen packet and ate some of the barbequed deer with some peppers. I went retired to the hammock and went to sleep where I had some vivid, strange dreams about going back to America. I woke up from my dream and turned over in my hammock to see what was going on. Below my hammock, was a dead armadillo which had been shot in the back of the head by my counterpart. Again, not sure why below my hammock was the best place to put a dead animal. I spent the rest of the night constantly waking up throughout the night because of chaotic dreams and noises from the jungle. Infact, I don't think anyone in the camp that night had a good night of sleep. The next morning, everyone woke up exhausted, coughing and sniffling. My counterpart rode ahead into the village on his motorcycle and two of the guys stayed behind to work another day in the jungle.
On Saturday morning, after 48 hours in the jungle, I walked back to my village by myself. And I never did find my water bottle.
Monday, July 25, 2011
Since April 4...
Since April 4, quite a bit has happened here for me in Suriname.
I spent one weekend in April working a basketball camp with Stanford alum who played for the women's basketball team. Shelly's teammates from Stanford flew into Suriname and I helped them out for 3 days. We worked with young girls in the morning and the women at night, teaching them basic basketball fundamentals.
After the camp, my mom came to Suriname. We did a few nights in the city, a few nights at the luxurious eco-tourism camp called Bergendal and 5 nights in Gunzi. In the city, I took my mom to Madonna's for a traditional Peace Corps dinner--Saoto soup washed down with several Parbo beers. At Bergendal, we did zip lining through the jungle canopy. And at site, we hung out with the women and threw a dance party for the village. The highlight of my mom's stay actually came after she left. A women from my village named Teti called my mom's cell phone number that I gave her a year ago while on vacation in the States. She dialed but my mom didn't have the phone on. When I asked Teti what she'd talk about with my mom since she didn't speak a word of English, she told me she just wanted to call and give my mom some "weki" (good morning).
After my mom left, I went with Craig and Matt to French Guyana to go and visit Julien (who had already come and visit us). We crossed the border from Suriname to French Guyana by boat and met our friend in St. Laurent. We stayed at his place near Kourou and he took us around French Guyana. There were highlights a plenty during this trip, including some hikes to jungle prisons, great dinners, endless caprinhas and a trip the Cayenne market as well as a trip to the infamous French Guyana penitentiary, Devil's Island, which is the more fucked-up Alcatraz equivalent of France (Papillion is based off this place).
Upon returning to Suriname I spent about a week in the city to go back out to the border crossing. But instead of crossing into French Guyana I'd be embarking on what I thought would be a several hour boat ride south to go and stay with a friend named Dave who lived on the Lawa River with the Ndjuka maroon tribe. The several hour boat ride turned into a two day adventure. We left Albina and headed south with a fully loaded boat around 10 am. When we finally docked that evening after 5 pm, we stopped at a random camp with a Chinese owned store. were not halfway to our destination but we had a place to hang our hammocks and grab a cold beer so I was a happy camper. We finally made it to our destination the following day at 6 pm. That week, I worked with Dave, three other Peace Corps volunteers and local residents of the area to construct a playground. I helped bring pieces of wood from the jungle into a boat and then unloaded from the boat onto our work area. I think 6 of us transported over 300 pieces of wood in 2 days. With the heat, some of the hardest work I've ever done. When I left, all the beams for the frame of the towers had been put into the ground. I've since seen some pictures of the playground and it looks pretty awesome.
Another note worthy event which I hope to post some videos (there are already pics on facebook) was the 4th of July party in Gunzi that I hosted. Basically, to promote American ideals I bought a bunch of hot dogs, opened up a can of sauerkraut that PC Sur-14 volunteer, Josey, gave me a year ago, hung some American flags in the community center and brought some games and threw a nice party. We played some pin the tail on the donkey, Operation and colored some photos of famous American Civil Rights heroes. To conclude the celebration, we hung a poster of all the flags of the World on the World Map that we did in Gunzi and a Monte Ellis Slamadamonth poster from a Slam magazine my mom had brought me. Go Warriors!
Since the end of May, I've most been in Gunzi. With most of the volunteers in my group already gone or leaving, I've been attending going away parties almost every week. Of course, the big kahuna of going away parties was held in Zemoise where Craig and Casey paid to bring in the best band on the river, Lawa Style.
Highlight of the night was definitely all the volunteers dancing on stage with the band.
At this point in time, I am the last Peace Corps volunteer for Sur 15 still at their original site. All others have gone to America, moved out of their village and are staying in the city, and three folks from our group will be staying in Suriname for a 3rd year and are already working in the city. I will be here one more month to see out the end of the school year. And yes, there will be one more going away party.
I spent one weekend in April working a basketball camp with Stanford alum who played for the women's basketball team. Shelly's teammates from Stanford flew into Suriname and I helped them out for 3 days. We worked with young girls in the morning and the women at night, teaching them basic basketball fundamentals.
After the camp, my mom came to Suriname. We did a few nights in the city, a few nights at the luxurious eco-tourism camp called Bergendal and 5 nights in Gunzi. In the city, I took my mom to Madonna's for a traditional Peace Corps dinner--Saoto soup washed down with several Parbo beers. At Bergendal, we did zip lining through the jungle canopy. And at site, we hung out with the women and threw a dance party for the village. The highlight of my mom's stay actually came after she left. A women from my village named Teti called my mom's cell phone number that I gave her a year ago while on vacation in the States. She dialed but my mom didn't have the phone on. When I asked Teti what she'd talk about with my mom since she didn't speak a word of English, she told me she just wanted to call and give my mom some "weki" (good morning).
After my mom left, I went with Craig and Matt to French Guyana to go and visit Julien (who had already come and visit us). We crossed the border from Suriname to French Guyana by boat and met our friend in St. Laurent. We stayed at his place near Kourou and he took us around French Guyana. There were highlights a plenty during this trip, including some hikes to jungle prisons, great dinners, endless caprinhas and a trip the Cayenne market as well as a trip to the infamous French Guyana penitentiary, Devil's Island, which is the more fucked-up Alcatraz equivalent of France (Papillion is based off this place).
Upon returning to Suriname I spent about a week in the city to go back out to the border crossing. But instead of crossing into French Guyana I'd be embarking on what I thought would be a several hour boat ride south to go and stay with a friend named Dave who lived on the Lawa River with the Ndjuka maroon tribe. The several hour boat ride turned into a two day adventure. We left Albina and headed south with a fully loaded boat around 10 am. When we finally docked that evening after 5 pm, we stopped at a random camp with a Chinese owned store. were not halfway to our destination but we had a place to hang our hammocks and grab a cold beer so I was a happy camper. We finally made it to our destination the following day at 6 pm. That week, I worked with Dave, three other Peace Corps volunteers and local residents of the area to construct a playground. I helped bring pieces of wood from the jungle into a boat and then unloaded from the boat onto our work area. I think 6 of us transported over 300 pieces of wood in 2 days. With the heat, some of the hardest work I've ever done. When I left, all the beams for the frame of the towers had been put into the ground. I've since seen some pictures of the playground and it looks pretty awesome.
Another note worthy event which I hope to post some videos (there are already pics on facebook) was the 4th of July party in Gunzi that I hosted. Basically, to promote American ideals I bought a bunch of hot dogs, opened up a can of sauerkraut that PC Sur-14 volunteer, Josey, gave me a year ago, hung some American flags in the community center and brought some games and threw a nice party. We played some pin the tail on the donkey, Operation and colored some photos of famous American Civil Rights heroes. To conclude the celebration, we hung a poster of all the flags of the World on the World Map that we did in Gunzi and a Monte Ellis Slamadamonth poster from a Slam magazine my mom had brought me. Go Warriors!
Since the end of May, I've most been in Gunzi. With most of the volunteers in my group already gone or leaving, I've been attending going away parties almost every week. Of course, the big kahuna of going away parties was held in Zemoise where Craig and Casey paid to bring in the best band on the river, Lawa Style.
Highlight of the night was definitely all the volunteers dancing on stage with the band.
At this point in time, I am the last Peace Corps volunteer for Sur 15 still at their original site. All others have gone to America, moved out of their village and are staying in the city, and three folks from our group will be staying in Suriname for a 3rd year and are already working in the city. I will be here one more month to see out the end of the school year. And yes, there will be one more going away party.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Sur 15: Two years remembered
"May your hands always be busy
May your feet always be swift
May you have a strong foundation
When the winds of changes shift
May your heart always be joyful
May your song always be sung
May you stay forever young" --Bob Dylan
Sur 15, where do I start? By foot, by car, by plane, by motorized canoe, we've spent the last two-plus years together traversing the jungles of Suriname, crossing its many rivers and climbing our own personal mountain. This is my reflection on our journey, through the ups, the downs, the good and the bad.
When we first came together in Miami, our first decision was to choose where to go to dinner. Already true to Sur 15 fashion, we argued over where to go. Some people wanted to go to the Cheesecake factory, a few wanted Cuban food and I just wanted a good old greasy American meal with a beer. Unfortunately, the four guys I talked into going for burgers and a brew were the first four guys to leave us early. If one of you four happens to come across, remember you were never forgotten.
After leaving staging in Miami, we finally set off for Suriname. At NAKS we were greeted by a rambunctious group of Sur 12s, 13s, and 14s who were gracious enough to give us koosus/pongis (Cristin Smith gave me mine) and alarmed us with their obsession with cheese. During our short stay at NAKS, staff dispersed our pictures on a map of Suriname to show us where we would be living for the next two years. There was excitement, curiousity and a sense of loss. After 10 days, making new friends, we were already being separated from some of those volunteers who would not be living in our region.
After NAKS, we went out to our respected regions to get our first impression of the area where we would be living. I will never forget that first night on the river. I stayed with Andy in Amakakonde and took my first night boat right that evening, a 20 minute trip north and then 20 minute trip back south between Amakakonde and Gengeston. And on night three, I remember meeting up with all the other volunteers on the river for our first fun day with our beloved Sur 14 grandpa who was offering beef jerky crumbs and gold bond anti-itch powder to the unsuspecting youngsters.
And then there was homestay. I know some people didn't enjoy homestay but my family and experience were good. After exhausting and sometimes frustrating four hour language classes each morning with Denise and Craig, the three of us would meet up with the other volunteers living in Asigron. Victoria-Asigron was quite a comical experience, six volunteers living close together, feeling out the culture, feeling out each other. I remember the first time we had to build a latrine and wash house for the village. Again true to fashion, there were four volunteers and four different opinions on how to get the job done. But it will be the afternoons in Victoria-Asigron that I will remember the most, drinking beers at Edel's shop with my fellow volunteers and the Guyanese construction workers, meeting up for ice cream or The Office marathon at Casey's house. And who could forget their first 3 hour church experience in Victoria? I know Craig, Denise and I never will.
Maybe the best thing that happened to our group was an administrative error. When our quarterly stipend checks didn't show up on time before moving into the interior, we were "stranded" in the city, unable to move to our villages. At this point, I felt there were a handful of people who I knew well, mostly through homestay. But with an extra week in the city with nothing constructive to do, living in an apartment suite at Stadz with five other guys which we called "Parbo Delta Parbo" I felt a real connection with the greater group for the first time in three months. There were days spent washing meat buckets with Cam, Ian, Shelly and James in the bathrooms at Stadz. We said goodbye to Mike. Ian, James and I crashed a random 60 year old's birthday party because they'd give us as much whiskey and food as we could stomach if we'd dance. Hopefully the video of that party never turns up on youtube.
After two weeks in the city, it was finally time to move to site. The journey to site should have been a forewarning that this job wasn't going to easy. While driving to Atjoni we popped a flat tire, when we arrived Catherine's cat escaped its holding box and ran into the jungle, after packing up our belongings into a motorized canoe our engine wouldn't start and when it finally did we travelled over an hour from Atjoni to Gunzi in the pouring rain. At this point, I was still feeling upbeat about things until I opened the door to my house and saw a termite nest the size of three American footballs attached to and chewing through my roof. Instead of unpacking, my first day at site was spent knocking down and spraying a termite nest. After a rocky first month at site, I remember most of us thinking what the hell are we doing here!?
I am not sure that question was ever really answered. But over time, it gradually unfolded itself differently to each person. For me, it was a personal journey, sticking with a commitment, overcoming challenges and adversity, and picking myself up from the ground (or the Suriname River) after making mistakes.
Near the end of year 1 of our service, we said goodbye to James. And almost, I left as well. I remember taking a weekend trip to the Cottica and not sure whether I'd take my vacation or just throw in the towel when I got back in the city on Monday. I was frustrated, frustrated with life in the village, frustrated with the lack of meaningful work, frustrated with Peace Corps in general. I definitely owe a lot to A.T. and Molly for hosting me that weekend and getting me through that tough time. Although I still feel my reasons for wanting to leave were legitimate, quitting would've been the worst decision I ever made.
Friendships were what got me through two years of Suriname. Friends in the village, in the city, returned Peace Corps volunteers, Sur 14s, 15s and 16s, and on the Peace Corps staff. In Sur 15, I had some great friends and some great moments. Fun days on the river will always be my most fond memories of times spent together--parties in Bendikwai and at the Tjaikonde zaal, up-river brokodays,
Gunzi fun days. And there were good times in the city--a field trip to the Paramaribo zoo, dance parties at Ian's, sports games at Rendezvous and of course, any night spent at Madonna's.
There were also plenty of good trips with friends--the lake, Langu, Commewijne, Gronigen. Definitely the most memorable trip was the epic two day boat trip up the Marowijne and Lawa river to reach Dave Scott's site, Gonini Kiiki Mofo, with Ron, Cheryl and A.T. Not even reaching the half way point to our destination, the five of us spent the first night outdoors at a little hammock camp with a Chinese store in the middle of the jungle. It was a cold night but at least the company and Brazilian beers were good.
Although I feel I had many good friends, my two besties were definitely my amigos on the Suriname River, Craig and Matt. I hope that in the States we can continue some of our mid-day phone calls and nonsensical and sarcastic text messages. It was always comforting to know there were two other guys out there just as bored as I was on Wednesday afternoons. I specifically remember one series of text messages where Matt and I debated what Saramaccans were actually doing in the jungle. After an hour of back and forth text messaging, we determined there must be a Target store with air-conditioning somewhere hidden in the jungle where our villagers go to pass the time. We'll find it someday. Visiting Craig and Casey in Zemoise, that place felt like a second home to me because so many people knew me in that village. There were many a good times spent there whether it was dancing at brokodays, The Killers dance party at Craig's house, boat rides up the river to Slee and tapa wata, walking in the jungle with Alogo or just hanging out.
Even though I did not mention all of them, everyone in Sur 15 contributed to getting me through these two years and I'd like to thank them for a quality two years. Some folks are already back in the States and I already miss the conversations we'd have in the office. Some folks are going back soon and I know I'll miss your company as well. Little by little, the table at Madonna's begins to become a little more empty, chairs filled up by new strangers who will become friends. Wherever you may be in the States, I hope you all will continue to live with that same tough attitude that got us to perservere through two years here in Suriname--whether it was overcoming personal obstacles, snakes, tough villages, etc. I've played a lot of sports and been involved with different organizations, Sur 15 we were definitely the toughest team I've ever been a part of. Waka bunu dee mati.
May your feet always be swift
May you have a strong foundation
When the winds of changes shift
May your heart always be joyful
May your song always be sung
May you stay forever young" --Bob Dylan
Sur 15, where do I start? By foot, by car, by plane, by motorized canoe, we've spent the last two-plus years together traversing the jungles of Suriname, crossing its many rivers and climbing our own personal mountain. This is my reflection on our journey, through the ups, the downs, the good and the bad.
When we first came together in Miami, our first decision was to choose where to go to dinner. Already true to Sur 15 fashion, we argued over where to go. Some people wanted to go to the Cheesecake factory, a few wanted Cuban food and I just wanted a good old greasy American meal with a beer. Unfortunately, the four guys I talked into going for burgers and a brew were the first four guys to leave us early. If one of you four happens to come across, remember you were never forgotten.
After leaving staging in Miami, we finally set off for Suriname. At NAKS we were greeted by a rambunctious group of Sur 12s, 13s, and 14s who were gracious enough to give us koosus/pongis (Cristin Smith gave me mine) and alarmed us with their obsession with cheese. During our short stay at NAKS, staff dispersed our pictures on a map of Suriname to show us where we would be living for the next two years. There was excitement, curiousity and a sense of loss. After 10 days, making new friends, we were already being separated from some of those volunteers who would not be living in our region.
After NAKS, we went out to our respected regions to get our first impression of the area where we would be living. I will never forget that first night on the river. I stayed with Andy in Amakakonde and took my first night boat right that evening, a 20 minute trip north and then 20 minute trip back south between Amakakonde and Gengeston. And on night three, I remember meeting up with all the other volunteers on the river for our first fun day with our beloved Sur 14 grandpa who was offering beef jerky crumbs and gold bond anti-itch powder to the unsuspecting youngsters.
And then there was homestay. I know some people didn't enjoy homestay but my family and experience were good. After exhausting and sometimes frustrating four hour language classes each morning with Denise and Craig, the three of us would meet up with the other volunteers living in Asigron. Victoria-Asigron was quite a comical experience, six volunteers living close together, feeling out the culture, feeling out each other. I remember the first time we had to build a latrine and wash house for the village. Again true to fashion, there were four volunteers and four different opinions on how to get the job done. But it will be the afternoons in Victoria-Asigron that I will remember the most, drinking beers at Edel's shop with my fellow volunteers and the Guyanese construction workers, meeting up for ice cream or The Office marathon at Casey's house. And who could forget their first 3 hour church experience in Victoria? I know Craig, Denise and I never will.
Maybe the best thing that happened to our group was an administrative error. When our quarterly stipend checks didn't show up on time before moving into the interior, we were "stranded" in the city, unable to move to our villages. At this point, I felt there were a handful of people who I knew well, mostly through homestay. But with an extra week in the city with nothing constructive to do, living in an apartment suite at Stadz with five other guys which we called "Parbo Delta Parbo" I felt a real connection with the greater group for the first time in three months. There were days spent washing meat buckets with Cam, Ian, Shelly and James in the bathrooms at Stadz. We said goodbye to Mike. Ian, James and I crashed a random 60 year old's birthday party because they'd give us as much whiskey and food as we could stomach if we'd dance. Hopefully the video of that party never turns up on youtube.
After two weeks in the city, it was finally time to move to site. The journey to site should have been a forewarning that this job wasn't going to easy. While driving to Atjoni we popped a flat tire, when we arrived Catherine's cat escaped its holding box and ran into the jungle, after packing up our belongings into a motorized canoe our engine wouldn't start and when it finally did we travelled over an hour from Atjoni to Gunzi in the pouring rain. At this point, I was still feeling upbeat about things until I opened the door to my house and saw a termite nest the size of three American footballs attached to and chewing through my roof. Instead of unpacking, my first day at site was spent knocking down and spraying a termite nest. After a rocky first month at site, I remember most of us thinking what the hell are we doing here!?
I am not sure that question was ever really answered. But over time, it gradually unfolded itself differently to each person. For me, it was a personal journey, sticking with a commitment, overcoming challenges and adversity, and picking myself up from the ground (or the Suriname River) after making mistakes.
Near the end of year 1 of our service, we said goodbye to James. And almost, I left as well. I remember taking a weekend trip to the Cottica and not sure whether I'd take my vacation or just throw in the towel when I got back in the city on Monday. I was frustrated, frustrated with life in the village, frustrated with the lack of meaningful work, frustrated with Peace Corps in general. I definitely owe a lot to A.T. and Molly for hosting me that weekend and getting me through that tough time. Although I still feel my reasons for wanting to leave were legitimate, quitting would've been the worst decision I ever made.
Friendships were what got me through two years of Suriname. Friends in the village, in the city, returned Peace Corps volunteers, Sur 14s, 15s and 16s, and on the Peace Corps staff. In Sur 15, I had some great friends and some great moments. Fun days on the river will always be my most fond memories of times spent together--parties in Bendikwai and at the Tjaikonde zaal, up-river brokodays,
Gunzi fun days. And there were good times in the city--a field trip to the Paramaribo zoo, dance parties at Ian's, sports games at Rendezvous and of course, any night spent at Madonna's.
There were also plenty of good trips with friends--the lake, Langu, Commewijne, Gronigen. Definitely the most memorable trip was the epic two day boat trip up the Marowijne and Lawa river to reach Dave Scott's site, Gonini Kiiki Mofo, with Ron, Cheryl and A.T. Not even reaching the half way point to our destination, the five of us spent the first night outdoors at a little hammock camp with a Chinese store in the middle of the jungle. It was a cold night but at least the company and Brazilian beers were good.
Although I feel I had many good friends, my two besties were definitely my amigos on the Suriname River, Craig and Matt. I hope that in the States we can continue some of our mid-day phone calls and nonsensical and sarcastic text messages. It was always comforting to know there were two other guys out there just as bored as I was on Wednesday afternoons. I specifically remember one series of text messages where Matt and I debated what Saramaccans were actually doing in the jungle. After an hour of back and forth text messaging, we determined there must be a Target store with air-conditioning somewhere hidden in the jungle where our villagers go to pass the time. We'll find it someday. Visiting Craig and Casey in Zemoise, that place felt like a second home to me because so many people knew me in that village. There were many a good times spent there whether it was dancing at brokodays, The Killers dance party at Craig's house, boat rides up the river to Slee and tapa wata, walking in the jungle with Alogo or just hanging out.
Even though I did not mention all of them, everyone in Sur 15 contributed to getting me through these two years and I'd like to thank them for a quality two years. Some folks are already back in the States and I already miss the conversations we'd have in the office. Some folks are going back soon and I know I'll miss your company as well. Little by little, the table at Madonna's begins to become a little more empty, chairs filled up by new strangers who will become friends. Wherever you may be in the States, I hope you all will continue to live with that same tough attitude that got us to perservere through two years here in Suriname--whether it was overcoming personal obstacles, snakes, tough villages, etc. I've played a lot of sports and been involved with different organizations, Sur 15 we were definitely the toughest team I've ever been a part of. Waka bunu dee mati.
Monday, April 4, 2011
Pushin' through
"I'd like to see those tourists get out of the bus and push."--Saramaccan woman
"There they go!"--Me
"You got the whole Peace Corps Suriname experience in two days: dinner at Madonna's, a broken down van, a night boat ride and a wild brokoday (funeral). There's really nothing else to show you."--On my friend's trip to Suriname
While in Trinidad for the Carnival, my friends and I became acquianted with Julien, from French Guyana, who after hanging out with us in Trinidad was interested in visiting our villages in the interior of Suriname. The quote sums up his four night trip to visit my friends and me in Suriname. The week before, I had two other people who Craig and I met at the Trinidad airport come to Gunzi to visit me. It was an interesting learning experience to see how people reacted to the way I have been living for two years.
Julien and I left the city to go visit Craig and Casey in Zemoise on Thursday morning. The travel went smooth and was uneventful which is somewhat abnormal considering we were on a van and boat for a combined 7 to 8 hours.
After arriving in Zemoise to meet Craig aka Taangapai (Strong boy), we cooked up a few homemade pizzas
for Julien and drank some of the Martinique rum he brought from lil' France. The following night's dinner was more of the usual, rice and beans.
Friday was an eventful day. Craig, Julien and I hiked with one of the local guys through the jungle out to a creek with some rapids to do some swimming. On the way back we helped a woman pound some rice. We also played some soccer in the rain with the kids later on that day. At night, we attended one of the local funerals called a brokoday. Being more south, the beliefs are more traditional which made for a more eventful Brokoday. There was a lot of dancing and the young women in the village were excited to see three single men show up--one young lady even spoke French. I stirred up the crowd with some fancy dance moves that made my dance partners call "woolo!" Those Sarmaccan women liked it! We finally made it back from the Brokoday around 2 in the morning.
The next day we woke up bright and early for a quality 3 hour boat ride, all through the rain. That was no fun. When we made it to Atjoni, I had the good fortune that a local van driver was waiting for me as promised. When we took off we were ahead of two Peace Corps friends who went with another driver. On the road we came across a tourist van that had become stuck in the mud and we watched and laughed as the tourists got out and attempted to push the bus (photo). Unfortunately, instant karma struck and my friends' van tried to go around the stuck bus and also got stuck in the mud. This meant I had to help push the stuck van with my friends. Afterwards, I was covered in red mud after the back left tire spewed mud all over me as the van tried to climb out of the mud.
Later that day we made it to another village along the road where another of my Peace Corps friends lives. We hung out on a flooded beach and then played a game called slagbol (baseball/cricket mix) with the local kids. The following day, after spending 3 nights in a hammock, we finally packed up and went to the city to catch a glimpse of a Javanese festival in the city before Julien left for French Guyana. All in all a successful trip. It was also nice to have a friend come out and visit Suriname and get a different perspective on how we live here. It was real interesting afterwards to hear some of the things Julien recalled like pounding rice with the women. Something I regularly now was so foreign to him. It was a good reminded to enjoy the small things that happen on a day to day basis before I leave Suriname for the States.
As of now, I leave my village on August 22, about a month or so after most of the Peace Corps Volunteers in my group leave the country. I should be back in the States on August 29--I need a week to complete some paperwork, medical appointments and visit some friends in the city before I come back home.
"There they go!"--Me
"You got the whole Peace Corps Suriname experience in two days: dinner at Madonna's, a broken down van, a night boat ride and a wild brokoday (funeral). There's really nothing else to show you."--On my friend's trip to Suriname
While in Trinidad for the Carnival, my friends and I became acquianted with Julien, from French Guyana, who after hanging out with us in Trinidad was interested in visiting our villages in the interior of Suriname. The quote sums up his four night trip to visit my friends and me in Suriname. The week before, I had two other people who Craig and I met at the Trinidad airport come to Gunzi to visit me. It was an interesting learning experience to see how people reacted to the way I have been living for two years.
Julien and I left the city to go visit Craig and Casey in Zemoise on Thursday morning. The travel went smooth and was uneventful which is somewhat abnormal considering we were on a van and boat for a combined 7 to 8 hours.
After arriving in Zemoise to meet Craig aka Taangapai (Strong boy), we cooked up a few homemade pizzas
for Julien and drank some of the Martinique rum he brought from lil' France. The following night's dinner was more of the usual, rice and beans.
Friday was an eventful day. Craig, Julien and I hiked with one of the local guys through the jungle out to a creek with some rapids to do some swimming. On the way back we helped a woman pound some rice. We also played some soccer in the rain with the kids later on that day. At night, we attended one of the local funerals called a brokoday. Being more south, the beliefs are more traditional which made for a more eventful Brokoday. There was a lot of dancing and the young women in the village were excited to see three single men show up--one young lady even spoke French. I stirred up the crowd with some fancy dance moves that made my dance partners call "woolo!" Those Sarmaccan women liked it! We finally made it back from the Brokoday around 2 in the morning.
The next day we woke up bright and early for a quality 3 hour boat ride, all through the rain. That was no fun. When we made it to Atjoni, I had the good fortune that a local van driver was waiting for me as promised. When we took off we were ahead of two Peace Corps friends who went with another driver. On the road we came across a tourist van that had become stuck in the mud and we watched and laughed as the tourists got out and attempted to push the bus (photo). Unfortunately, instant karma struck and my friends' van tried to go around the stuck bus and also got stuck in the mud. This meant I had to help push the stuck van with my friends. Afterwards, I was covered in red mud after the back left tire spewed mud all over me as the van tried to climb out of the mud.
Later that day we made it to another village along the road where another of my Peace Corps friends lives. We hung out on a flooded beach and then played a game called slagbol (baseball/cricket mix) with the local kids. The following day, after spending 3 nights in a hammock, we finally packed up and went to the city to catch a glimpse of a Javanese festival in the city before Julien left for French Guyana. All in all a successful trip. It was also nice to have a friend come out and visit Suriname and get a different perspective on how we live here. It was real interesting afterwards to hear some of the things Julien recalled like pounding rice with the women. Something I regularly now was so foreign to him. It was a good reminded to enjoy the small things that happen on a day to day basis before I leave Suriname for the States.
As of now, I leave my village on August 22, about a month or so after most of the Peace Corps Volunteers in my group leave the country. I should be back in the States on August 29--I need a week to complete some paperwork, medical appointments and visit some friends in the city before I come back home.
Monday, March 21, 2011
The Saramaccan Kid
"He doesn't need help, he's a Saramaccan kid!"--Kwami
Well, I guess I've finally been culturally accepted. Out in the woods, walking across some logs which were suspended like a makeshift bridge over a creek, my counterpart told another Saramaccan man not to help me cross, I could do it myself. And all the practicing of balancing myself on the sides of canoes finally paid off and I crossed several logs during the our 7 hour trek without any assistance. It was quite an interesting trek out into the forest this time around. Recently, the nature trail has been pretty lively and I've seen a lot of animals and tracks out on the path. This time around, I saw a long, black Yellow-bellied keel snake, an armadillo, spotted the scent of a howler monkey and the tracks of some deer--both of which we attempted to track, and came across a potential meal when we saw a tasty local, black bird resting on a tree branch 30 yards ahead of us. There's talk in the village of a 2 to 3 day trek through the jungle with the men before I leave Suriname.
My time here in Suriname is beginning to come to an end. As of Tuesday, I will have exactly 5 months left before I leave Gunzi. Some of my fellow Peace Corps volunteers will be leaving two to three months before I do. As my time comes to a close I am trying to wrap up a few things that have been started--a trash management project, distributing condoms to the boatmen, computer lessons, the radio program and painting the last World map at the Tutubuka school. But most importantly I am trying to enjoy my remaining time here in Suriname.
Since returning from Trinidad, things have been going pretty slow. I hung out with two tourists who I met at the airport in Trinidad and wanted to come visit the interior. Since they left, I've been listening to a lot of Kings of Leon and watched Seinfeld season 6 over the course of 3 nights.
Soon, I will finally be getting some visitors to Suriname. A friend I made in Trinidad will be coming to visit me in early April and then my mom will be visiting in late April-early May. My village is pretty excited to meet mom and is already lecturing me about keeping the area around my house clean.
This week I go into the city for my last Peace Corps conference--the Close of Service. Although I'm going to miss Suriname, I'm excited to be moving forward, travelling after Peace Corps and going back to family and friends in the States.
Well, I guess I've finally been culturally accepted. Out in the woods, walking across some logs which were suspended like a makeshift bridge over a creek, my counterpart told another Saramaccan man not to help me cross, I could do it myself. And all the practicing of balancing myself on the sides of canoes finally paid off and I crossed several logs during the our 7 hour trek without any assistance. It was quite an interesting trek out into the forest this time around. Recently, the nature trail has been pretty lively and I've seen a lot of animals and tracks out on the path. This time around, I saw a long, black Yellow-bellied keel snake, an armadillo, spotted the scent of a howler monkey and the tracks of some deer--both of which we attempted to track, and came across a potential meal when we saw a tasty local, black bird resting on a tree branch 30 yards ahead of us. There's talk in the village of a 2 to 3 day trek through the jungle with the men before I leave Suriname.
My time here in Suriname is beginning to come to an end. As of Tuesday, I will have exactly 5 months left before I leave Gunzi. Some of my fellow Peace Corps volunteers will be leaving two to three months before I do. As my time comes to a close I am trying to wrap up a few things that have been started--a trash management project, distributing condoms to the boatmen, computer lessons, the radio program and painting the last World map at the Tutubuka school. But most importantly I am trying to enjoy my remaining time here in Suriname.
Since returning from Trinidad, things have been going pretty slow. I hung out with two tourists who I met at the airport in Trinidad and wanted to come visit the interior. Since they left, I've been listening to a lot of Kings of Leon and watched Seinfeld season 6 over the course of 3 nights.
Soon, I will finally be getting some visitors to Suriname. A friend I made in Trinidad will be coming to visit me in early April and then my mom will be visiting in late April-early May. My village is pretty excited to meet mom and is already lecturing me about keeping the area around my house clean.
This week I go into the city for my last Peace Corps conference--the Close of Service. Although I'm going to miss Suriname, I'm excited to be moving forward, travelling after Peace Corps and going back to family and friends in the States.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Bigi Fujai: 25 years old!
"Don't worry, I went to Chico State."--Me
The last words I said to my friend as a 24 year-old before stumbling over to my bed and laying beneath the cover of my mosquito net. I think it nicely sums up the first 25 years of my life and will probably be my goto all-purpose phrase for the next 25 years. For instance, question: "Are you sure this is safe?", "Who can open this bottle?", "Is anyone here a doctor?" or "How would you feel if Peace Corps sent you to a country where it is customary to drink a lot of alcohol?"(they seriously ask you that); response: "Don't worry, I went to Chico State!" (And that was my response in the interview). Maybe I can get a place in a CBS sitcom with that line someday.
Since this was a birthday with a multiple of 5, my 25th birthday, this was a bigi fujai (big birthday) by Suriname traditions. The children of Gunzi started preparing the open-spaced community center for this party on Wednesday, 3 days before the party was to be held. They drew a really nice welcome sign on the chalk board and spent a few days making paper chain links to hang across the community center. They were really enthusiastic because last year Catherine and I celebrated my birthday by closing the door to my house, watching a movie and eating a cake she made for me. They did not get any--dee lasi. This year, I had invited the 6th grade students of Tutubuka who I worked with on the World AIDS Day skits and promised free soda and cookies. The party was scheduled to start at 4 pm to allow fellow Sur-15 Peace Corps Volunteer, Amber, and I to finish a training
in the morning with a local medical post worker. Thinking that the start time was rather late and coincidentally there was a funeral going on in the Tutu area and
with rainy weather as late as 3 pm, I didn't expect much of a turn out.
But to my surprise there was quite a large turnout. I'd say about 40-50 teenagers from Tutu walked over for the party. It felt like an awkward sweet 16 party that I never wanted but it was entertaining. So I passed out two cases of soda and an assorment of cookies to my guests from Tutu and the Gunzi children. Meanwhile, the boys played the drums and the girls pulled me onto the dance floor for two songs and showed off some pretty sweet Saramaccan dance moves. Yessssssssss. At 5:30 pm, I ended the dancing and was content on staying in Gunzi and let the kids walk back to Tutu until rumors of a potential fight started spreading. So the school boatman, Guito, and I decided we needed to walk back with the kids to make sure no trouble broke out on the path to Tutu. I did not have time to grab my umbrella from my house so I walked on the 25 minute path and arrived at Bamos' wenke, the first store at the end of the path, when the rain began to fall and where my usual boatman, Tude, was sitting and waiting for me. Tude insisted we wait out the rain before heading back to Gunzi. This presented the first opportunity for Parbo. Tude and Guito bought a few as they knew I had bought a whole crate, twelve 40 oz. Parbo beers, which was waiting for everyone in Gunzi. After putting back a few Parbos at Bamos wenke, the rain finally subsided and we went back to Gunzi.
Arriving at my house in Gunzi, the kids flocked to my house like a mob. They had been waiting over 6 weeks for me to shoot my fireworks and the hour had finally arrived. So we took the fireworks, leftover cookies, soda and the first few beers down to the community center. Yes, fireworks and beer, but don't worry, I went to Chico State. At the end of the night, all the kids still had their fingers and no power lines had been fell. Awaa.
As I was shooting off the fireworks, some of the boys began the drumming again while the men listened and enjoyed the beers and the girls danced around the community center. During all this, my counterpart's woman brought us four funfetti cakes that I bought and she baked for the party. Since nothing about the party was really organized, there was no line for the funfetti cakes, it was a free-for-fall, and the four cakes were eaten by about 10 kids, 1 Peace Corps Volunteer and 5 adults within about 5 minutes. I'm 25 but still don't consider myself an adult, thank you very much. While the kids continued to drum the adults and I drank 11 of the 12 beers before finally heading up to the Tei Wei (Gunzi's tourist camp) bar to drink the last beer that I promised my counterpart, Kwami, I'd drink with him. So everyone walked
up to Tei Wei where Kwami and his staff were hanging out and playing music for a few of the tourists visiting Gunzi. As the soda had run out, I bought a few more for the kids and the men and I finished the beer and delved into a little Johnny Red. We danced for about 2 hours at Tei Wei while listening to a Saramaccan mix CD I had made for the radio. At some point or another, all the Gunzi folks stopped the music and sang me happy birthday in Sranan Tongo and then in English--big ups to Gunzipai and Kadjoepai. And instead of turning off the power at 11 am, Kwami kept it on until around 1 am to keep the party going and then to give me enough time to stumble back to my house with lighting. Where, reassuring Amber, who was observing from her hammock, that I wouldn't hurt myself while I was trying to get under my mosquito net and into my own bed, "Don't worry, I went to Chico State!"
Cheers to another good 25 years...
The last words I said to my friend as a 24 year-old before stumbling over to my bed and laying beneath the cover of my mosquito net. I think it nicely sums up the first 25 years of my life and will probably be my goto all-purpose phrase for the next 25 years. For instance, question: "Are you sure this is safe?", "Who can open this bottle?", "Is anyone here a doctor?" or "How would you feel if Peace Corps sent you to a country where it is customary to drink a lot of alcohol?"(they seriously ask you that); response: "Don't worry, I went to Chico State!" (And that was my response in the interview). Maybe I can get a place in a CBS sitcom with that line someday.
Since this was a birthday with a multiple of 5, my 25th birthday, this was a bigi fujai (big birthday) by Suriname traditions. The children of Gunzi started preparing the open-spaced community center for this party on Wednesday, 3 days before the party was to be held. They drew a really nice welcome sign on the chalk board and spent a few days making paper chain links to hang across the community center. They were really enthusiastic because last year Catherine and I celebrated my birthday by closing the door to my house, watching a movie and eating a cake she made for me. They did not get any--dee lasi. This year, I had invited the 6th grade students of Tutubuka who I worked with on the World AIDS Day skits and promised free soda and cookies. The party was scheduled to start at 4 pm to allow fellow Sur-15 Peace Corps Volunteer, Amber, and I to finish a training
in the morning with a local medical post worker. Thinking that the start time was rather late and coincidentally there was a funeral going on in the Tutu area and
with rainy weather as late as 3 pm, I didn't expect much of a turn out.
But to my surprise there was quite a large turnout. I'd say about 40-50 teenagers from Tutu walked over for the party. It felt like an awkward sweet 16 party that I never wanted but it was entertaining. So I passed out two cases of soda and an assorment of cookies to my guests from Tutu and the Gunzi children. Meanwhile, the boys played the drums and the girls pulled me onto the dance floor for two songs and showed off some pretty sweet Saramaccan dance moves. Yessssssssss. At 5:30 pm, I ended the dancing and was content on staying in Gunzi and let the kids walk back to Tutu until rumors of a potential fight started spreading. So the school boatman, Guito, and I decided we needed to walk back with the kids to make sure no trouble broke out on the path to Tutu. I did not have time to grab my umbrella from my house so I walked on the 25 minute path and arrived at Bamos' wenke, the first store at the end of the path, when the rain began to fall and where my usual boatman, Tude, was sitting and waiting for me. Tude insisted we wait out the rain before heading back to Gunzi. This presented the first opportunity for Parbo. Tude and Guito bought a few as they knew I had bought a whole crate, twelve 40 oz. Parbo beers, which was waiting for everyone in Gunzi. After putting back a few Parbos at Bamos wenke, the rain finally subsided and we went back to Gunzi.
Arriving at my house in Gunzi, the kids flocked to my house like a mob. They had been waiting over 6 weeks for me to shoot my fireworks and the hour had finally arrived. So we took the fireworks, leftover cookies, soda and the first few beers down to the community center. Yes, fireworks and beer, but don't worry, I went to Chico State. At the end of the night, all the kids still had their fingers and no power lines had been fell. Awaa.
As I was shooting off the fireworks, some of the boys began the drumming again while the men listened and enjoyed the beers and the girls danced around the community center. During all this, my counterpart's woman brought us four funfetti cakes that I bought and she baked for the party. Since nothing about the party was really organized, there was no line for the funfetti cakes, it was a free-for-fall, and the four cakes were eaten by about 10 kids, 1 Peace Corps Volunteer and 5 adults within about 5 minutes. I'm 25 but still don't consider myself an adult, thank you very much. While the kids continued to drum the adults and I drank 11 of the 12 beers before finally heading up to the Tei Wei (Gunzi's tourist camp) bar to drink the last beer that I promised my counterpart, Kwami, I'd drink with him. So everyone walked
up to Tei Wei where Kwami and his staff were hanging out and playing music for a few of the tourists visiting Gunzi. As the soda had run out, I bought a few more for the kids and the men and I finished the beer and delved into a little Johnny Red. We danced for about 2 hours at Tei Wei while listening to a Saramaccan mix CD I had made for the radio. At some point or another, all the Gunzi folks stopped the music and sang me happy birthday in Sranan Tongo and then in English--big ups to Gunzipai and Kadjoepai. And instead of turning off the power at 11 am, Kwami kept it on until around 1 am to keep the party going and then to give me enough time to stumble back to my house with lighting. Where, reassuring Amber, who was observing from her hammock, that I wouldn't hurt myself while I was trying to get under my mosquito net and into my own bed, "Don't worry, I went to Chico State!"
Cheers to another good 25 years...
Monday, January 31, 2011
Langu: The last of the Saramaccans
"Not many Saramaccans have seen this."--Boatman Asigide, at Awaadan
I have been living on the Upper Suriname River with the Saramaccan people for 18 months. At this point, I know and have been to almost every village between Atjoni and Tuliobuka, a shrine dedicated to the first Saramaccans where the river splits into the Piki Lio (Little River) and Gaan Lio (Great River); the villages that run North to South between Atjoni and Tuliobuka are only accessible by motorized canoe and when the water is high it's about a 4 hour ride from Atjoni to Tuliobuka where Saramaccans residence on the river seeminly ends. But in fact, beyond Tuliobuka, above the Tapa Wata (Stopping Water) rapid, on the Gaan Lio (Great River) there is a clan of Sarmaccans who reside in several villages even further south on the river.
I had yet to go beyond the Tapa Wata rapid and venture to an area named for the clan that inhabits it, Langu. The last group of Saramaccan villages, Langu is a name that originates from an area near the mouth of the Congo River in Africa where two of the original Langu descendants were born before being brought to Suriname as slaves (First Times by Richard Price). Since most Saramaccans can not afford the expensive transportation costs to venture to Langu often if at all, it's become a place of mystery and legend to most modern Saramaccans. Before leaving Gunzi for Langu, I was told to be on guard for witchcraft,
forest spirits and potentially unfriendly Amerindians.
My transportation to Langu was set up by another Peace Corps Volunteer. In order to afford the trip ourselves, we had to get a boatload of Peace Corps Volunteers to commit to going to Langu and use local contacts to give us friendly prices. The boatman for the trip who helped set up the trip was Asigide from Kajapaati, who is regularly employed by the Peace Corps as a boatman and guide on the river. After preparing the boat and oil in Atjoni, Asigide drove the boat from Atjoni to Gunzi which is about an hour ride, after I got on the boat, we made several stops picking up volunteers along the way until we arrived in Zemoise, a village with 2 Peace Corps Volunteers and about two and a half hours up river (south) of Gunzi. Due to the length of our journey, we had to spend our first night in Zemoise at a small guesthouse where 9 of us tied hammocks.
The next morning we were on the river and departing Zemoise at 9 am. About 30 minutes later, we reached Tapa Wata, the rapid that blocks entrance to the Gaan Lio where the Langu clan resides. We walked through the village searching for any helping hands that could help us haul our boat up the Tapa Wata rapid which has an angle of about 45 degrees and stands about 20 feet high with water rushing down a daunting rocky stairway. We finally found a few young men near the river washing their clothes who volunteered to help our Saramaccan guides haul the boat up the rapids. What I thought would take anywhere from 20 to 30 minutes took exactly 4 minutes to get the boat from bottom of the rapid to the Gaan Lio which lies above the rapid. Asigide was revving the engine while two guys at the front helped pull the boat up with rope and three young men at each side of the boat walked up the rocks and pulled the boat up the rapid with relative ease.
It was quite an amazing feat to ascend the rapid so quickly.
After acsending the Tapa Wata rapid we were on the Gaan Lio. After a quick bathe in the river, our boatman and guides got back in the boat and we went another 45 minutes up river when we finally arrived at the Gaan Dan (Great Rapid). This rapid was impassible due to its steeper angle, height and faster rushing waters--in Saramaccan oral history, an infamous canoe crash took place at this rapid around 250 years ago. Luckily our boatman had made arrangements prior to our arrival and so we dodged trouble by walking around the Great Rapid on foot to where our new boat and guide were waiting to take us deeper into the jungle into Langu along the Gaan Lio. (However, on our return trip three of the Peace Corps guys helped a few Saramaccan men haul a boat up and around the Gaan Dan)
After another hour of boat rides, we made it to Langu. Immediately, I realized a lot of the stories I had heard about this place probably were not relevant any longer. Entering Langu, I noticed many modern houses with zinc roofs, as compared to the predominantly thatch roofs in Gunzi, and a huge church that overlooks the river in one of the first Langu villages called Longolio. When we finally arrived on shore at the village of Kayana where we were staying, people were not overly startled by the fact that a boat full of random white folks showed up who could speak Saramaccan. Overall, people in Langu were very friendly--there are several up-scale tourist camps in the area where rich Dutch tourists pay big bucks to fly into the area by plane and enjoy the most amazing and wonderous nature I've seen in Suriname up to this point.
The tourist camp where we stayed was an upstart without even a name, cheap and really the only one we could afford in the area. So, some slept in beds, some slept in matresses on the floor and some of us slept in hammocks. Upon arrival at our nameless tourist camp in Kayana, one of the Langu villages, we explored the area and we sat down and had a free beer with the owners of one of the other local tourist camps. Gaan taangi fii (Thank you)! As we continued to walk around, the local kids looked on with bewilderment and amazement and sometimes just giggled as our huge group spoke fluent Saramaccan and the Peace Corps girls wore their traditional Saramaccan skirts (koosu).
Upon further exploration, I did run into a man of Amerindian descent who worked with the tourist camp. He was a nice gentleman and did not have a tail or try to eat me like my Saramaccan villagers believed would happen.
(Although these details were told to me more or less jokingly, I sensed a hint of seriousness to these Saramaccan beliefs)
On our second day in the Langu area I woke up with a cockroach on my face. Again, it was the only tourist camp in the area we could afford and that's why it is important to always carry your mosquito nets, Sur-17. We boated further south, up the river, past the last Langu clan settlements to a place called Awaadan (Right-Now Rapid).
We started at the bottom of this massive rapid on a small island where a very expensive tourist camp has been built. We ate lunch, swam in the river and mingled with the Saramaccan staff at the tourist
camp who were all interested to talk with us and hear about the villages where we lived. During lunch, we could hear the calls of a troop of monkeys in the distance--we suspected Howler Monkeys. After lunch, we boated a bit further up the river around the base of the Awaadan rapid up to its mouth. A fitting and scenic to the end of the Saramaccan territory. The mouth of the Awaadan is a series of stone steps covered in green algae and exotic water tolerant plants creating a very beautiful contrast of rock, rushing water and plants. The rocks where we docked our motorized canoe had marks which looked like they had been tampered with by humans. One of our guides believed the first Saramaccans to enter the jungle used the stones to make tools. And there we were at the end of the Saramaccan land. When I looked out beyond the Awaadan rapid on the Gaan Lio which continued to run south I knew there were no more Saramaccans, just jungle and some very isolated Amerindian villages several hours south, on the river which our boatman said comes to an end at some forgotten mountain beyond the distance.
And that was our trip. The next day we woke up and left our nameless tourist camp around 10 am and I arrived back at Gunzi around 6 pm. During this voyage to Langu I gained a newly found appreciation for the Saramaccan people who fought for their freedom from slavery, escaped into the jungle and for more than 300 years have resided deep in this beautiful, mysterious and at times treacherous jungle.
I have been living on the Upper Suriname River with the Saramaccan people for 18 months. At this point, I know and have been to almost every village between Atjoni and Tuliobuka, a shrine dedicated to the first Saramaccans where the river splits into the Piki Lio (Little River) and Gaan Lio (Great River); the villages that run North to South between Atjoni and Tuliobuka are only accessible by motorized canoe and when the water is high it's about a 4 hour ride from Atjoni to Tuliobuka where Saramaccans residence on the river seeminly ends. But in fact, beyond Tuliobuka, above the Tapa Wata (Stopping Water) rapid, on the Gaan Lio (Great River) there is a clan of Sarmaccans who reside in several villages even further south on the river.
I had yet to go beyond the Tapa Wata rapid and venture to an area named for the clan that inhabits it, Langu. The last group of Saramaccan villages, Langu is a name that originates from an area near the mouth of the Congo River in Africa where two of the original Langu descendants were born before being brought to Suriname as slaves (First Times by Richard Price). Since most Saramaccans can not afford the expensive transportation costs to venture to Langu often if at all, it's become a place of mystery and legend to most modern Saramaccans. Before leaving Gunzi for Langu, I was told to be on guard for witchcraft,
forest spirits and potentially unfriendly Amerindians.
My transportation to Langu was set up by another Peace Corps Volunteer. In order to afford the trip ourselves, we had to get a boatload of Peace Corps Volunteers to commit to going to Langu and use local contacts to give us friendly prices. The boatman for the trip who helped set up the trip was Asigide from Kajapaati, who is regularly employed by the Peace Corps as a boatman and guide on the river. After preparing the boat and oil in Atjoni, Asigide drove the boat from Atjoni to Gunzi which is about an hour ride, after I got on the boat, we made several stops picking up volunteers along the way until we arrived in Zemoise, a village with 2 Peace Corps Volunteers and about two and a half hours up river (south) of Gunzi. Due to the length of our journey, we had to spend our first night in Zemoise at a small guesthouse where 9 of us tied hammocks.
The next morning we were on the river and departing Zemoise at 9 am. About 30 minutes later, we reached Tapa Wata, the rapid that blocks entrance to the Gaan Lio where the Langu clan resides. We walked through the village searching for any helping hands that could help us haul our boat up the Tapa Wata rapid which has an angle of about 45 degrees and stands about 20 feet high with water rushing down a daunting rocky stairway. We finally found a few young men near the river washing their clothes who volunteered to help our Saramaccan guides haul the boat up the rapids. What I thought would take anywhere from 20 to 30 minutes took exactly 4 minutes to get the boat from bottom of the rapid to the Gaan Lio which lies above the rapid. Asigide was revving the engine while two guys at the front helped pull the boat up with rope and three young men at each side of the boat walked up the rocks and pulled the boat up the rapid with relative ease.
It was quite an amazing feat to ascend the rapid so quickly.
After acsending the Tapa Wata rapid we were on the Gaan Lio. After a quick bathe in the river, our boatman and guides got back in the boat and we went another 45 minutes up river when we finally arrived at the Gaan Dan (Great Rapid). This rapid was impassible due to its steeper angle, height and faster rushing waters--in Saramaccan oral history, an infamous canoe crash took place at this rapid around 250 years ago. Luckily our boatman had made arrangements prior to our arrival and so we dodged trouble by walking around the Great Rapid on foot to where our new boat and guide were waiting to take us deeper into the jungle into Langu along the Gaan Lio. (However, on our return trip three of the Peace Corps guys helped a few Saramaccan men haul a boat up and around the Gaan Dan)
After another hour of boat rides, we made it to Langu. Immediately, I realized a lot of the stories I had heard about this place probably were not relevant any longer. Entering Langu, I noticed many modern houses with zinc roofs, as compared to the predominantly thatch roofs in Gunzi, and a huge church that overlooks the river in one of the first Langu villages called Longolio. When we finally arrived on shore at the village of Kayana where we were staying, people were not overly startled by the fact that a boat full of random white folks showed up who could speak Saramaccan. Overall, people in Langu were very friendly--there are several up-scale tourist camps in the area where rich Dutch tourists pay big bucks to fly into the area by plane and enjoy the most amazing and wonderous nature I've seen in Suriname up to this point.
The tourist camp where we stayed was an upstart without even a name, cheap and really the only one we could afford in the area. So, some slept in beds, some slept in matresses on the floor and some of us slept in hammocks. Upon arrival at our nameless tourist camp in Kayana, one of the Langu villages, we explored the area and we sat down and had a free beer with the owners of one of the other local tourist camps. Gaan taangi fii (Thank you)! As we continued to walk around, the local kids looked on with bewilderment and amazement and sometimes just giggled as our huge group spoke fluent Saramaccan and the Peace Corps girls wore their traditional Saramaccan skirts (koosu).
Upon further exploration, I did run into a man of Amerindian descent who worked with the tourist camp. He was a nice gentleman and did not have a tail or try to eat me like my Saramaccan villagers believed would happen.
(Although these details were told to me more or less jokingly, I sensed a hint of seriousness to these Saramaccan beliefs)
On our second day in the Langu area I woke up with a cockroach on my face. Again, it was the only tourist camp in the area we could afford and that's why it is important to always carry your mosquito nets, Sur-17. We boated further south, up the river, past the last Langu clan settlements to a place called Awaadan (Right-Now Rapid).
We started at the bottom of this massive rapid on a small island where a very expensive tourist camp has been built. We ate lunch, swam in the river and mingled with the Saramaccan staff at the tourist
camp who were all interested to talk with us and hear about the villages where we lived. During lunch, we could hear the calls of a troop of monkeys in the distance--we suspected Howler Monkeys. After lunch, we boated a bit further up the river around the base of the Awaadan rapid up to its mouth. A fitting and scenic to the end of the Saramaccan territory. The mouth of the Awaadan is a series of stone steps covered in green algae and exotic water tolerant plants creating a very beautiful contrast of rock, rushing water and plants. The rocks where we docked our motorized canoe had marks which looked like they had been tampered with by humans. One of our guides believed the first Saramaccans to enter the jungle used the stones to make tools. And there we were at the end of the Saramaccan land. When I looked out beyond the Awaadan rapid on the Gaan Lio which continued to run south I knew there were no more Saramaccans, just jungle and some very isolated Amerindian villages several hours south, on the river which our boatman said comes to an end at some forgotten mountain beyond the distance.
And that was our trip. The next day we woke up and left our nameless tourist camp around 10 am and I arrived back at Gunzi around 6 pm. During this voyage to Langu I gained a newly found appreciation for the Saramaccan people who fought for their freedom from slavery, escaped into the jungle and for more than 300 years have resided deep in this beautiful, mysterious and at times treacherous jungle.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Jari (Yari) 2011
"Jari! Jari! Jari!"--Surinamese New Year's greeting
After the Gunzi Brokoday, I went into the city for a quick 2 day trip. The two day trip consisted of a meeting with an organization whom I had to write a report on a latrine project in Gengeston, another village on the river, and, of all things, to attend a wedding with a friend from the new Peace Corps Suriname group, Matt Day, also a Californian. On the day of the wedding, Matt and I got picked up and car-pooled out to a district in the west called Commewijne. Our link was to the groom whom Matt first met in his village which is on the eastern border of the country. I had met the groom twice, once in the city and then again in my village. The groom's family is Javanese which has some similarities to the Philipino culture I grew up around in the bay area. The people are very friendly and generous; they want to fill up your belly with delicious foods. And that they did. Matt and I were given Javanese soups with some kind of concoction with hot peppers, a local fried noodle dish called bami, chicken and even tasty family desserts like coconut candies and cake. The wedding was held at a mosque. This was the first time I ever attended a ceremony at a mosque, I have previously been in a synagogue and a Hindu temple while in Suriname. It was a very simple ceremony, the man and woman dressed in Islamic robes, the groom kind of looked like a sultan from a movie and the bride wore a red veil over her hair. The old men sat around the table in their big, tall black hats and conducted the ceremony. Upon its completion banana leaves were placed infront of every attendant at the mosque and rice, fish, vegetables and cookies were placed on top of the leaves. Given no utensils, we had to eat the meal with our hands. For reasons unknown, I had trouble doing this despite usually having indifferent table manners which include regularly eating with my hands.
After the wedding I went back out to Gunzi for a few days. I had decided to spend Christmas with Josh aka Tutubala in Tutu and attend church for the first time since home based training in May 2009. On a funny side note, this was my first appearance in the village Tutu since Camp GLOW and my post-camp radio interviews. Walking by one of the houses in the village I was mobbed by a group of four screaming girls who hugged me and wouldn't let go of me. I felt like a Beatle and slightly embarassed but definitely appreciated. Anyways, Christmas Eve was spent making five pizzas and drinking a little scotch before attending the evening mass which was quite an enjoyable festivity. The mass ended with each member of the congregation given a lit candle to carry home. Of course, the local kids used these lit candles to light their fireworks after mass which they threw in every which what direction. So the walk home was a frantic. On Christmas morning, I woke up and ate the leftover pizza. Not cold pizza because we didn't have a fridge, so leftover pizza. It was still delicious. Josh and I attended the 9 am mass and then I walked back to Gunzi where I called two local friends to wish them Merry Christmas--my home stay family and one of the guest speakers from Camp GLOW.
After just five nights in the interior, I went back to the city for two weeks to attend the second leg of the wedding, celebrate the New Year's and travel around. In Suriname, everyone gets married twice apparently. First, in a religious ceremony and then at city hall. After the city hall wedding and the reception, I attended a pre-NYE party at a sports club where I saw Surinamese pop-star Damaru perform. December 31 is a story and a half, Matt Day, Sur-15 volunteer Dave Scott and I could only agree afterwards that it was the greatest New Year's we all had ever experienced. I'm not sure where I could even begin, the night was really random which is basically the Suriname experience in a nut shell. I'll just say that the night ended with a redonculous private mansion party, a lot of fireworks and then having to walk home four miles because we couldn't get a taxi.
After New Year's Eve, Matt Day and I hung out at PCV Ian Loveless's apartment in the city where we shared a lot of photos from home and our previous travels. After hearing his stories about Burning Man and attending music festivals, I've determined he's like the Wes Lee to my Jim Rodriguez. He's a cool guy. Then we did some travelling. We spent two days with another volunteer, Christine, in the county of Commewijne where the first wedding had been held. On the first day, we toured an abandoned local rum factory where Matt and I boarded an old model train and called for "All aboard!" Christine captured our shennanigans on film with my video camera. It'll be an America's Funniest Home Video if they ever bring that show back. I was also introduced to new things that I had not been acquainted with yet, spam and Spaceballs. Personally, thought the spam was better than Spaceballs.
Sorry Matt. The next day we attended Christine's computer class at the local middle school. Coming from the interior, it was rather foreign to see something actually organized and instruction being given in English! After school we then toured an old Dutch fort that was built on the coast where the Suriname River(which I live on) meets the Commewijne River and flows into the Ocean. It was nice way to end the trip, seeing the Ocean and feeling a good breeze again. That San Francisco breeze isn't so far away anymore these days, just 7 months to go.
After the Gunzi Brokoday, I went into the city for a quick 2 day trip. The two day trip consisted of a meeting with an organization whom I had to write a report on a latrine project in Gengeston, another village on the river, and, of all things, to attend a wedding with a friend from the new Peace Corps Suriname group, Matt Day, also a Californian. On the day of the wedding, Matt and I got picked up and car-pooled out to a district in the west called Commewijne. Our link was to the groom whom Matt first met in his village which is on the eastern border of the country. I had met the groom twice, once in the city and then again in my village. The groom's family is Javanese which has some similarities to the Philipino culture I grew up around in the bay area. The people are very friendly and generous; they want to fill up your belly with delicious foods. And that they did. Matt and I were given Javanese soups with some kind of concoction with hot peppers, a local fried noodle dish called bami, chicken and even tasty family desserts like coconut candies and cake. The wedding was held at a mosque. This was the first time I ever attended a ceremony at a mosque, I have previously been in a synagogue and a Hindu temple while in Suriname. It was a very simple ceremony, the man and woman dressed in Islamic robes, the groom kind of looked like a sultan from a movie and the bride wore a red veil over her hair. The old men sat around the table in their big, tall black hats and conducted the ceremony. Upon its completion banana leaves were placed infront of every attendant at the mosque and rice, fish, vegetables and cookies were placed on top of the leaves. Given no utensils, we had to eat the meal with our hands. For reasons unknown, I had trouble doing this despite usually having indifferent table manners which include regularly eating with my hands.
After the wedding I went back out to Gunzi for a few days. I had decided to spend Christmas with Josh aka Tutubala in Tutu and attend church for the first time since home based training in May 2009. On a funny side note, this was my first appearance in the village Tutu since Camp GLOW and my post-camp radio interviews. Walking by one of the houses in the village I was mobbed by a group of four screaming girls who hugged me and wouldn't let go of me. I felt like a Beatle and slightly embarassed but definitely appreciated. Anyways, Christmas Eve was spent making five pizzas and drinking a little scotch before attending the evening mass which was quite an enjoyable festivity. The mass ended with each member of the congregation given a lit candle to carry home. Of course, the local kids used these lit candles to light their fireworks after mass which they threw in every which what direction. So the walk home was a frantic. On Christmas morning, I woke up and ate the leftover pizza. Not cold pizza because we didn't have a fridge, so leftover pizza. It was still delicious. Josh and I attended the 9 am mass and then I walked back to Gunzi where I called two local friends to wish them Merry Christmas--my home stay family and one of the guest speakers from Camp GLOW.
After just five nights in the interior, I went back to the city for two weeks to attend the second leg of the wedding, celebrate the New Year's and travel around. In Suriname, everyone gets married twice apparently. First, in a religious ceremony and then at city hall. After the city hall wedding and the reception, I attended a pre-NYE party at a sports club where I saw Surinamese pop-star Damaru perform. December 31 is a story and a half, Matt Day, Sur-15 volunteer Dave Scott and I could only agree afterwards that it was the greatest New Year's we all had ever experienced. I'm not sure where I could even begin, the night was really random which is basically the Suriname experience in a nut shell. I'll just say that the night ended with a redonculous private mansion party, a lot of fireworks and then having to walk home four miles because we couldn't get a taxi.
After New Year's Eve, Matt Day and I hung out at PCV Ian Loveless's apartment in the city where we shared a lot of photos from home and our previous travels. After hearing his stories about Burning Man and attending music festivals, I've determined he's like the Wes Lee to my Jim Rodriguez. He's a cool guy. Then we did some travelling. We spent two days with another volunteer, Christine, in the county of Commewijne where the first wedding had been held. On the first day, we toured an abandoned local rum factory where Matt and I boarded an old model train and called for "All aboard!" Christine captured our shennanigans on film with my video camera. It'll be an America's Funniest Home Video if they ever bring that show back. I was also introduced to new things that I had not been acquainted with yet, spam and Spaceballs. Personally, thought the spam was better than Spaceballs.
Sorry Matt. The next day we attended Christine's computer class at the local middle school. Coming from the interior, it was rather foreign to see something actually organized and instruction being given in English! After school we then toured an old Dutch fort that was built on the coast where the Suriname River(which I live on) meets the Commewijne River and flows into the Ocean. It was nice way to end the trip, seeing the Ocean and feeling a good breeze again. That San Francisco breeze isn't so far away anymore these days, just 7 months to go.
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