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.
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