"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.
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.
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