"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.
Friday, August 26, 2011
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.
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