Old Year's Night (New Year's Eve) in Grenada

Happy New Year to all! After a wonderful trip back to New York for the Christmas holiday I returned to Grenada in time for Old Year's Night. Prior to leaving for the states, I met a nice lady (and a couple government officials) in a rum shop in St. George's, two of whom amazingly live in St. Patrick's fairly close to my home. After drinking quite a bit of 'flanka', this lady, Ruby, told me that I must spend the new year at her house. I left saying I would keep in touch, super excited at the possibility of participating in a secret, traditional Grenadian celebration for the new year in the heart of the rainforest. Unfortunately, when I returned, I could not get in contact with Ruby quickly enough :( In an effort to find a New Year's celebration in my area, I spoke to several friends who all recommended going to the capital or Grand Anse (the southern touristy/ex-pat section of the country) for any festivities as many people in the country spend the time at church or home during that night. Or I could spend $110 for admission to the Rex Hotel that requires formal dress (not the the PC packing list).


So, after spending an embarrassing amount of hours making a homemade New Year hat with random scraps of things in my home, I attended a celebration at the Prickly Bay Marina in Lance Aux Epines near Grand Anse with some other PCVs and friends. I recklessly tossed aside my grandma tendencies to have fun and stay up PAST midnight! And fun it was, with friends, live and DJ music, dancing (it was good to dance with people more on my level than with Grenadian ladies who dislocate their hips and 'wine' them around at rapid-fire speed), accidental glass-breaking, fireworks, and knitting! Yes, I couldn't suppress the grandma alter-ego for too long and out came the knitting needles. Knitting while sleep deprived and full of beer proved to be quite ineffective, but it was still my kind of party!

The night ended predictably with a marriage proposal from an elderly Rastaman in attendance who was impressed with my knitting techinique. It's good to be back.

Posh Corps

Be careful what you wish for. Since some of my friends who served in the Peace Corps refer to my service in the Eastern Caribbean as the "Posh Corps", I found myself wishing I was "roughing it" more. Enter cockroaches and water stoppage.

Now, I was deathly afraid of cockroaches before coming to Grenada. I can still hear the laughter of well-intentioned friends as they asked how I'd handle all of the exotic bugs I would encounter on a tropical island. So imagine my delight these past 8 months as I encountered few, and only dead, cockroaches. Definitely gross, but not life-threatening.

That is until Thursday. For the past week, I kept seeing this one cockroach in my house hiding in cabinets and under objects. After said tramatic events, I effectively blocked them from my memory. One night, as a large dark object crawled along the ceiling in the living room, I returned to bed, not wanting to know what it was. In the dark corners of my mind I knew it was Sr. Cucaracha. Sure enough, the next morning, there he was on my kitchen counter.

After recovering from my fear-induced paralysis, I grabbed my OFF! bug spray and created an unmerciful deet storm above him, hoping to debilitate him enough to squash him with a shoe. After an epic 3-minute battle that included Sr. Cucaracha heroically dive bombing off the kitchen counter with a sickening "sllllap!" onto the floor, I managed to squash him. Too afraid to move the shoe, I left him for about 10 minutes while brainstorming how to properly dispose of the body. During that time, no less than 1 million ants decided to cover his body. After sweeping them all up into a dust bin and tossing them outside, I started to get ready for work, attempting (unsuccessfully) to forget that morning's events.

A few glorious, cockroach-free days later I started to feel more relaxed, as evidenced by my jumping a mere 2 feet in the air everytime I saw a shadow or my cat move. Then on Monday morning while getting ready for work, I stopped to admire how adorable my cat looked while playing with some random object (he loves bottle caps). He kicked it around like a kitty soccer ball, then picked it up in his mouth. As you have no doubt suspected, it was a freaking cockroach. Apparently Sr. Cucaracha has some vengeful family members and Jasper uncovered them before they could unleash their campaign of fear.

Although gross, the cockroach was dead, so I spared my heart some unnecessary palpitations. As I went to clean up the body, the roach flipped over and started crawling at a moderate pace before turning onto his back, legs twitching in the air. He repeated this cruel resurrection several times while I hid behind some furniture, gathering my last bit of courage and a shoe. You know the rest.

Finally, as I was liming on the street waiting for a friend, a cockroach sauntered past me in the gutter and died belly-up in front of me. Steep learning curve this week.

Aaaand, yesterday I awoke to very low water pressure as I filled up a bottle and made breakfast. As I walked to work at the local secondary school, I passed hordes of primary school children walking AWAY from the schools. They told me that there was no water at the school and were therefore dismissed for the day. Sure enough, the secondary school closed by 3rd period. Looks like some neighbors and I might need to make some more trips to the river and sea this week for a bath and some washing water. That sounds more like it.

School Daze

Summer has passed and we're back to the daily grind! I spent the first day of school at my primary school worksite Chantimelle RC (Roman Catholic). It was so wonderful to see all of the friendly students and teachers again. Just look at all these adorable, smiling faces!

While I was catching up with the 5th grade teacher Ms. Frame, one particulary animated student named Jamal passed by bouncing up and down while wearing a sheet of bubble wrap over his face. "Eh, Jamal, Carnival done pass already!" a teacher commented, laughing. We have all come to understand that Jamal is the physical embodiment of Carnival and J'Ouvert is everyday for him. Rock on, Jamal, rock on.

Soon after the principal rang the bell, the children gathered for the weekly assembly. The students sang songs (religious ones, the national anthem), repeated several mottos, prayed, and listened to the principal welcome them back and speak about expectations. Then she said, "We have a few new people with us today." I straightened up, waiting to be introduced yet again as their "Peace Corps". Surprisingly, she mentioned some different people on the other side of the crowd! It felt so good to have been promoted from the new teacher to one of the old group. In one particularly awesome moment, as I was limin and talking with Ms. Frame, my friend Ms. Baptiste passed by us. After I said, "Good morning," Ms. Baptiste turned, laughed, and replied, "I didn't even see you there! You look like a teacher!" I must have had a puzzled look on my face because she clarified, "In that you blend in with everyone else!" Whew! I hoped wearing dress pants and shoes in the tropics would be enough for me to pass the formal work dress code!

While she could have also been indirectly commenting on deepened summer tan, I do feel very accepted and integrated at this school.

We are starting a SEN program (Special Education Needs aka Resource Room) at this school for struggling readers. Since it is a small school, the class will take place in the library. I really wish I had a "before" picture of the library aka the storage unit of the school for the past decade.

The room in progress, children playing homemade reading games during break

I spent the day working with teachers in their classrooms and cleaning the library (the latter being against my principal's wishes since she wanted everyone to help with the cleanup effort). We managed to fill 3 large garbage bags and make space in the corner for the classroom. A small, but significant dent. The 6th grade boys loved helping move furniture and textbooks, acting all tough. Minimal cockroaches. All in all a good day!

Reboot: Part 1

Yes, it's been a while.

The laptop decided it needed a break and would not turn on for about a week. Then it took me another 2 weeks to get it back (including an aborted attempt to have Errin pass it through the bus window in Gouyave, much to her dismay), at which point the laptop again ceased to function. After a month total, it started to turn on again. Paranoid as always, especially since I did not possess an external hard drive, I would only leave the computer on when doing work and would turn it off as soon as possible. Then life got busy after becoming an official volunteer (see posts!) and I lazily put off blogging.

But now we're back :)

Some highlights from these past few months:

Swearing-In Ceremony

Taking the oath that every foreign service officer takes. Legit.

In mid-April, my fellow Peace Corps Trainees and I became official Peace Corps Volunteers. Although the Prime Minister of Grenada could not make it, we had a celebrity line-up: the Eastern Caribbean Country Director, the US Charge d'Affairs for Grenada, and the Governor General (a Grenadian representative of the queen). After attempting to create a musical, based on our training experience, in three days, we abandoned the idea and made a slide show presentation. After myriad speeches, I delivered the Vote of Thanks and off we went (as did my USB key, unfortuneately).

We all hand-made beautiful cards for everyone involved with our training only to not have given them out fast enough haha. So some people left before we could distribute them completely. Even my host family left soon after the ceremony and I had to run after them to get a family picture.

(from left to right) Me, host-grandma, Glenford, host-sister Deon-Ja, and host-mom Judy

Seven Sisters Waterfalls

This past week Sean and I hiked to the Seven Sisters Waterfalls with Errin, her friend Hayley, and my friend Kerita after a night at Fish Friday in Gouyave (weekly festivities with Grenadian food and music). After paying our $5EC and taking a hiking stick, we walked along a paved road past banana/fig, paw-paw, and nutmeg trees, and brown cows. We reached a dirt path with a small wooden sign that said "to waterfall" with an arrow next to a bar. Continuing through the bush, the trees would occasionally cut out and give us a glimpse of broccoli-mountains. At least they looked like broccoli florets to me. It wasn't raining that day, but it was pretty muddy. No falls, though, unlike Mt. Qua Qua (see upcoming). After climbing down a few natural rock and mud staircases and traversing a wide creek, we reached the bottom of the falls.


This is where we met our guide Cliffon a.k.a Super Butterfly (love it) and some tourists from Georgia. After duly stripping our footwear, we crawled up a steep path of mud, tree roots, and rocks, desperately grasping anything close-by, while Super Butterfly floated up the mountainside on two legs, not landing for more than a nanosecond before lightly hopping to the next rock. It actually felt nice barefoot, I need to rock anti-shoes more often. I only saw Hayley when I looked back and feared that Sean decided not to come up (he's afraid of heights). He did come, though :) and the only way to get back down is either though a helicopter evacuation or jumping the falls.



When we reached the top, we rinsed in the water and jumped the first waterfall. I got a skull full of water, but it was exciting. The second one required the "couch manuever", at which I failed miserably (no broken bones, however). We then got to travel down a raging current between a narrow mountain passageway where I sustained a bad-ass knee scrape. After jumping a few small waterfalls, we came to the BIG sister, waterfall #5. It didn't look too intimidating from the ground and I had been skydiving, so I thought I had nothing to fear. Until I looked down, that is. About 4 stories high with rocks at the bottom and slippery rocks at the top. Slightly unnerving.


I had this wonderful idea to have Kerita (the friend who opted to watch us jump and take pics) take a video of Sean and I jumping at the same time. Errin jumped first and suffered a wedgie. Hayley went next and sustained a bloody lip. Sean and I were next, right when my camera ran out of memory. Sean jumped, knowing that it was now or never, before the camera situation was resolved. I waited a few minutes before finally jumping myself.

As you can see, I landed on my thighs and J-Lo booty like a prize idiot. Even J-Lo wasn't cushioney enough to spare me the pain. My award arrived a few days later.


After overcoming my temporary paralysis in the water while saving face by yelling how awesome it all was, I swam to the rocks. The Georgian tourist jumped followed by Super Butterfly, who backflipped off the cliff (of course). We sighed in relief, only to find that there was one more waterfall. Luckily it was small and manageable.

Bruised, bleeding, and beat, it slowly dawned upon us that we needed to hike up all of those rock and mud stairs and hills back to the road then to the bus stop. I was so tired I didn't even bother foraging for callaloo on the walk to the bus junction.

Can't wait to go back!

Hashing

Sweating like an Olympian during my first hash

Of the many fabulous things to do in Grenada, hashing may become one of my favorites. Hashing combines hiking, mazes, food, music, and (responsible/optional) alcohol consumption.

Essentially, lead "hashers" create 2 new trails in the bush: one for walkers and one for runners (I'm petitioning for a crawler's trail until I get in better shape). After signing in, a leader goes over the guidelines, like how to identify false trails and the various calls you use to follow the correct trail. They also rag on people that wear new shoes and forewarn them of post-hash consequences. The EC81 group that went decided to take the walkers trail since it was our first hash and we did not want to tempt death more than was necessary.

Kids playing in a mini-waterfall

While waiting for a ride to the hash site I met two older ex-pats (one American man and one German woman) with a crazy hippie vibe who live on a boat. The woman served in a German version of the Peace Corps in Africa. The random woman who picked the three of us up was playing the Beach Boys Greatest Hits, which was a nice reminder of home. There seemed to be a good mix of Grenadians, St. George's University students, ex-pats, and us PC Volunteers. That being said, I have not seen so many non-Grenadian (read: "white") people in one place here.

We limed for a bit and met Rion (not sure if that's how you spell his name, this is my lame attempt to make it look exotic), a Grenadian friend of another PCV who graciously offered to guide us on the hash. We then saw people scatter and tumble over fallen branches, signaling the start of the hash. The first section was a hike up the side of a mountain, with parts that required me to grasp desperately to tall grasses, branches, strangers, etc. Also, in an effort to prevent dehydration, I drank (water) gratuitously pre-hash, which caught up with me mid-mountain. Mercifully, there was a sheet of scrap metal that I could hide behind to remedy the situation. Getting rid of that extra water weight allowed me to scale the mountain a bit easier and quicker than before.

Balancing act during the hike

At the summit, we had a beautiful view of the Grenadian bush with the ocean in the distance, for which no camera can do justice. I thought the worst was over, and in a way it was, but I underestimated the climb down the mountain. I swallowed my pride and rode down the dirt trail as if it were a slide in a playground. People from this point on would constantly ask me where I fell. At one point, we came across some goats which Rion retied in a more humane fashion and a beach where we took a well deserved swim.

I heart goats big time

Although it was only supposed to take us only 90 minutes to finish the hash, it took us closer to 3 hours (due to our repeated stops and occasional wandering and goat feeding). Once we returned to the starting point, the group rounded up first-time hashers to run through a crowd of people spraying beer at them. Thankfully, we managed to avoid this. Reeking of beer, sweat, and having a dirt-streaked booty would certainly not assist effective community integration. To top it all off, they had a young man drink beer from his shoe (post-hash!) since it was new, and wearing new shoes to a hash is just straight-up silly.

All in all, a fantastic time.

To learn more about the crazy funness that is hashing, visit the official site: www.grenadahash.com

I must have done something amazing in a past life to have been placed here

Week in Review - Part 2 - Training

These past two weeks have been dominated by training, which includes information on culture, safety and security, community organizing, teaching strategies (a bit redundant for the 4 of us teachers), and special education in Grenada.

Special Education


The most useful training sessions, in my opinion, have been the ones that outline the history and current state of Special Education in Grenada. The school system has a primary level (equivalent to elementary in the US), a secondary level (middle and high school), and an optional tertiary level (technical training or college). The primary level has always been open and mandatory for children since its inception. However, between the ages of 11 and 14, students have to pass a "Common Entrance Exam" to be admitted into secondary school (similar to the British system). Up until recently, students who did not qualify for secondary education ended their formal schooling at that point. Currently, the Ministry of Education instituted universal education on the secondary level.

Many teachers and schools are overwhelmed with the wide variety of levels the incoming classes display. Many claim that they have not been given any additional resources or training to address the needs of these new students (I think I've heard this before...in my old country). One teacher showed me a picture book that was probably on a 3rd grade level and told me that the English teacher was using it for the Form 1 students (Grade 7ish). Despite being 4+ grade levels below where they should be, the students were struggling with that text.


The first official class for special needs students happened in Grenville on the east side of the island in 1969. Most of the subsequent special classes and schools that opened were for those with sensory or severe disabilities (School of the Deaf opened in 1972 and School for Special Education for the Mentally Retarded in 1976). However, formal inclusion of the Special Education Needs program did not occur until 2007, in part as a result of a 2001 Peace Corps forum on Special Education in Grenada.

Luckily enough, I was at my assigned secondary school the same day that the Minister of Education was having a dialogue with teachers and parents about their concerns. Parents and teachers were both concerned about the lack of resources, disruptive students, and lack of teacher training. I certainly have a lot of planning, thinking, and prioritizing to facilitate.

A video about my day at the Victoria School for Special Education, my host mom's school

Week in Review - Part 1 - First Weekend

It's already been 1 week in Grenada. The days have been so packed, that it feels like much longer in a sense, but since we are all still on the high of our Peace Corps experience, it doesn't matter.

Transition

We departed from St. Lucia two Saturdays ago, officially leaving behind our other EC friends who were going to Dominica (pronounced dah-mih-NEEK-uh) and those staying in St. Lucia. Unless we visit them, we won't be reunited for a year until our mid-service training. While in the St. Lucian airport (which was next to a cemetary - eeek), I was approached by a philosophical and gentlemanly police officer who asked if I would "prefer that [he] take [my] camera" after I took a picture of my group. Confused, it took me a while to realize that I did not see the smallest sign ever created indicating that pictures were not allowed.

EC 81

After a very short layover in Barbados, we arrived in St. George's, Grenada, the capital. Miraculously, everyone got all of their luggage and we were greeted by Dr. Desmond LaTouche, our in-country boss (known as our APCD), and Marcia Baptiste, who takes care of everything. Once we walked out of the airport, EC79, the five women currently volunteering on the island, greeted us with a banner and necklaces made from nutmeg, cloves, river beads, bay leaves, and saffron (tumeric). It would be the last time I wouldd need to haul all of my luggage at once!!

The new Grenadian crew

After a picture, an air-conditioned bus ride, and a tour, we arrived at the Peace Corps office in St. George's, the capital. We were fed and spoken to about logistics and things to know for the upcoming week. My host mom, Judy, and her 6-year-old daughter came first to pick me up. They were so welcoming and sweet, I knew I was in good hands. My host mother is a special education teacher as well with roughly 20 years experience, which is a bit intimidating considering I have about 20% of that experience and yet am expected to initiate/develop programs.

Out of our group, I live the furthest from the capital. After our long ride, I met my host grandmother, who is also awesome. She can sew elaborate dresses, shirts, etc. without a pattern or even a picture. She also taught me how to gut a fish that first night - not wasting any time. Most recently, I learned how to cut cinnamon (aka "spice") from the cinnamon tree. Also, after asking if I would like to try some ginger beer (which is more like lemonade, but with ginger instead of lemons), she donned a large cutlass (machete), went outside, and harvested ginger root from the backyard. Thankfully, she worships salt so I have someone with whom to share my obsession. I love this woman.

My room - how cute! But in need of a bigger mosquito net

Integrating

The morning view from my window

The next day, I went to church with my family. Unlike the US, religion (specifically Christianity) is intimately tied to all institutions and the personal lives of the people of Grenada. There is also a small Rastafarian population on this island. I haven't been to church in longer than I care to admit lest the Catholic side of my family ever reads this. Thankfully, my host mom had the hymns and readings out for me when I needed them so I didn't look like a complete doofus. Back at home, I met Deon-ja's father and learned how to make "bakes" which look like fried biscuits and can be filled with fish or anything for that matter. My host sister then took me on a walk to 2 stores so I could meet some people and find my way around the area. On our way back, we heard a drum corps coming up the hill and saw a (random for me) brownie/girl scout parade.


We stayed out making "cakes" with sand and trying to play frisbee while the sea breeze threw it up 20+ feet in the air, far taller than me or my host sister. I, being quasi-brown and usually never using sunscreen, forgot to put some on and turned a hilarious shade of pink around my nose and cheeks. The sun here does not play. Especially at high noon.

Local high school - with a view of course

My host sister posing with the donkey who lives in the field of the local high school

After lunch and a nap, we went to a birthday party for some of Deon-ja's friends. There were tons of kids and the adults spent their time managing their assembly line of snacks and drinks. One small girl stared at me for a while before eventually walking up to me wide-eyed and gently stroked my face and lips, presumably to see if 1) I was real, 2) that I did have skin. My host mom, Judy, got a kick out of that.

I got to speak with Judy about the state of special education in Grenada and it sounded strikingly similar to that in NYC. At the risk of making premature comparisons, it sound as if NY has more access to resources, but is still confronted with similar challenges such as the amount of trained SPED teachers, space for SPED classes, lack of vocational training for students with disabilities, etc. I'll learn more once I start my work assignments.

Being the integration machine that we are, my host family and I went to a beach called Bathway in the north of the island, where there was a reggae band and limin'. The water there is rough, as evidenced by the broken coral reef that floats in the calmer "pool" part of the ocean. Once you swim beyond the pool, you may be as good as gone according to many people here.

All in all, a productive and fun weekend!

Notes

1. There are no sidewalks in a vast majority of Grenada.
2. Chickens, donkeys, dogs, cats, goats, and sheep all roam the streets and fields where I live.
3. Grenadians don't cut birthday cake at the party but give it out to the b-day party guests during the week.
4. I am considered white here, not an ethnically-ambiguous brown person.