Let’s Talk About The Rooster

June 30, 2013July 20, 2014 April R Year One Animals, Rooster

There is a rooster that lives across the street, adorned by his many clucking hens. Throughout the day, they make quite the ruckus, and oftentimes I find myself pausing to lift my head and think, what on earth is going on over there?

The avians are always partying. At least, one would think so, due to the amount of noise that comes from within the henhouse.

But I am never jealous at having been excluded from festivities. After all, I am human, and have no business attending a rooster’s wild frat party. I have no quarrels with the rooster either, because come nightfall, the party always winds to a close. The birds settle in for the night, and for once, all is quiet.

Until 3am.

That is when I take issue.

My first night sleeping at site, I was rudely awoken by this vicious, inconsiderate beast of a bird who clearly didn’t own a watch. 3am! Let me sleep!

But alas, he did not. He started up again at 4am, 5am, and 6am, pretty much on the dot. With bags under my eyes, I rolled out of bed and consigned that I would not be getting any more sleep that morning.

Come nighttime, I was exhausted, and immediately fell into a deep sleep. Although this was over a month ago, I still remember the dream I had that night. I was at home, with Mom and Devon, and they were arguing with each other. But instead of words, they were crowing like roosters. Sometime later they stopped, and the house became calm. Then suddenly, there was crowing again. I squeezed my eyes shut and covered my ears with my hands. Make them stop! I cried out in agony.

April, what’s wrong? Mom asked me.
The roosters! Can’t you hear them! Make them STOP!!!

I have been at site for six weeks now, and like clockwork, the rooster starts up at 3am every morning. How, you wonder, am I handling this situation?

First, I told my host mom and my supervisor that I was comfortable and happy with the exception of the rooster. I was assured that I would grow accustomed to it, but so far, that hasn’t happened.

The next thing I did was reach for my earplugs. I have never in my life used earplugs, and it was only at the suggestion of a currently serving volunteer that I thought to purchase and pack them. They worked like a dream. I slept through the rooster’s incessant bellowing and enjoyed pleasant dreams night after night.

But the earplugs are uncomfortable, and I usually struggle to make them stay in my ears. Sometimes, if I don’t push them in deep enough, they don’t work as well, but if I push them in too deep, then they hurt and irritate me. So Plan B was put into action.

(Sorry, but it’s not as exciting as it sounds.)

I fall asleep without my earplugs, and allow myself to get woken up at 3am. By this point, I am usually in the midsts of a pleasant dream, one that is quickly made irksome by what is known as the “Wilhelm scream.” (You may recognize it when watching a horror film, as a pretty blonde usually produces it moments before she’s killed.) At that point, I’ll wake up, realize it was the rooster, and then grab my earplugs.

This plan is not foolproof. I would prefer having not been woken up at all, or perhaps that someone would eat the rooster and vanquish this evil entirely. But this is Jamaica, and I am city-bred girl living inna di bush. This is one of the many cultural adjustments I am making, and for what it’s worth, it’s not too bad.

However, when Plan B ceases to work, I’ll need to come up with Plan C, and I think for that one, I’ll get a little more ~~vindictive~~ creative. If he’s not paying close enough attention, Mr. Rooster will end up de-feathered and in my soup pot.

Here are some other examples of cultural adjustments were animals are concerned:

Insects
I’ve seen some pretty large insects here, and in many different shapes, sizes and colors. For the most part, they stay out of the way, and as long as it’s not a roach or a spider in my room, I’m good. However, there is a breed of beetle that emits a nasty stink when in distress, and it often likes to fly into my door (literally, with a bang), and end up upside down on the veranda. I usually know this has occured when I wake up and smell something foul. Also, there are crickets and cicadas that chirp so loudly, even my mother has heard them from the other end of the phone line.

Mongoose
In America, possums and raccoons frequently dart across the road. In some states, it’s a deer. In Jamaica, it’s a mongoose. They’re smaller than cats, and have a long, semi-bushy tail. I wish I could say they’re cute, but in honesty, I’ve only ever seen the back half of one before it disappears into the tall grass.

Cats & Dogs
These beloved household pets are not so beloved here. In fact, back during the days of slavery, dogs were used to keep the Jamaican slaves in order. As a result, there is an inbred, cultural fear of dogs. However, this is slowly disappearing. In Kingston and in other urban parts of Jamaica, people are beginning to allow dogs to live on the property to protect the home. An even smaller amount of people allow the dogs to live inside the house. For most dogs, however, they live outside, are underfed, and are perhaps more fearful of humans than we are of them. They are often fed our scraps and are shooed away.

Cats have the same stigma, and many are treated in the same regard, but they’re kept around because they chase off the mice and rats.

Goats & Cows
Goats are everywhere. They are most often seen on the side of the road, either eating, sleeping, or playing. Little kids like to dart across the road, and taxi men are quick to avoid hitting them. Most often a goat will be seen tied to a stake to keep it from wandering too far, but other times, the goat will come free, and it can be seen walking down the road with a length of rope trailing behind it.

Cows follow a slightly different story. In order to get from Cedar Valley to Morant Bay, the road drives right past a diary farm, with fields and fields of cows. Occasionally, one or two of the cows will get loose, and will be seen on the side of the road grazing as well. Forget free-range goats; we’ve got free-range cows!

Pigs & Donkeys
Many Jamaicans who live inna di bush have farms, or large plots of land in which they grow their own fruits and vegetables. They also keep donkeys to help with the plow, and to carry loads of produce from one place to another.

And let’s not forget how delicious a pig is. It is also pretty common for a family to own a piglet, raise it, and then, well, you know…

Chickens
Need I say more?

You Don’t Overcome Arachnophobia By Beating It With A Shoe

June 22, 2013July 20, 2014 April R Narratives, Year One Animals, Arachnophobia, Spider

Meet Anansi. A trickster God from West African folklore, Anansi takes the shape of a spider and has made his way from oral tradition, to popular children’s literature in the Caribbean. As a teacher, I’ve been made familiar with him.

But this is the real anancy.

He’s about the size of your palm, and luckily, completely harmless. However, for someone with arachnophobia, this knowledge doesn’t help much. Besides, all logic flees when you’re preparing for bed and you catch a glimpse of him scurrying down your curtains toward your nightstand.

I felt my heart literally lodge itself in my throat. I felt the blood drain from my face and became momentarily paralyzed. It was 11:45pm and my host mother was asleep. What the hell was I going to do?

But in that instant, I knew two things; If I didn’t kill that spider, I wasn’t going to sleep that night. And if I couldn’t kill that spider, I wasn’t going to last two years in Jamaica.

I snatched my phone from my desk and called a PCV friend from Group 82. “I’m freaking out! There’s a giant spider in my room and I don’t know what to do!”

“Ohhh! An anancy. So you’ve finally seen one. Don’t worry – they’re harmless.”
“What’s your point?”
“My point is you can relax.”

I screamed again, a blood-curdling scream that probably forced my friend to pull the phone away from his ear. “He’s on my bed now! He has to die!”

“Then you’re going to have to kill him.”
“How do I do that? I’m scared out of my mind.”
“Well you’re going to have to get over that. Do you have a shoe handy?”
“I have a phobia! You just don’t get over that by beating it with a shoe!”

We went back and forth for a little while before I finally decided that a broom might work. I could chase him out the door perhaps… But that didn’t work out as well as I’d planned. Anancy scurried back and forth across the wall and went everywhere but back outside.

I could tell that he was tiring though, because the broom was coming closer and closer to him before he moved again. Finally I took a deep breath and stepped back. “Alright. I’m going to put the phone down, and I’m going to beat him with the broom. I think I’m ready. I can do this now.”

I swung like a madwoman and howled like a banshee. Just like my Ewarton host mother with the slipper and the cockroach, I came down on Anancy several times with the broom, then finally stepped back to admire my work.

Stuck to the wall was a squished Anancy, his legs folded up around him. With the broom, I brushed him off the wall, on to the floor, and swept him out the door. Then I reached for my phone and collapsed into my desk chair.

“I did it,” I whispered into the phone, still a little shaky. “I got the bastard.”
“There, see? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

I erupted into a fit of laughter. I felt pretty accomplished, but I couldn’t possibly imagine what I must have looked like. A grown woman, cowering in fear of an insect, and then chasing it around the room with a broom. I’ll spare the details, but my war cry was more like a string of obscenities that flew freely from my lips. Most importantly, I’d overcome a fear, at least for the time being, and my laughter certainly helped ease the tension.

images — Not that I’d ever want to see Spiderman killed, but this was pretty comical

I can tell that Jamaica is going to change me. Scared though I was, and convinced that scared I will be again, should another Anancy decide to visit me, I found the courage to take care of the problem. My determination to tough it out won again.

Back in Ewarton, after an incredibly close call with a cockroach, I decided that now is the time to overcome my fear. After all, Jamaican women exterminate them without batting an eyelash, and my biological Mom comes to my rescue every single time. At some point, I’m going to have a family and I’ll need to be the hero brandishing a can of Raid. Since making that vow, I have not yet successfully killed a roach on my own, but I no longer feel that sense of panic when I see one. I will rise to the occasion soon enough.

And the next time I see an anancy, I’ll rise to that one again too.

FAQ.1

June 16, 2013July 20, 2014 April R Year One FAQ

Over the last few weeks, I’ve gotten emails from many of my friends. First and foremost, I want to say THANK YOU, because a blog is a little one-sided, and it’s been really great to hear from all of you! Please, keep it up!

Every email, however, has one thing in common with the next. I seem to be getting the same kinds of questions regarding my life and time spent in Jamaica. It seems like now is an appropriate time to post my first of many Frequently Asked Questions.

What do you do?
My official title is “Literacy Advisor.” I work with the children who have difficulties reading and writing, either 1 on 1, or in small groups. I pull students from their regular classes for 45 minutes at time for some private tutoring. All of my students read below their grade level, some in extreme cases.

But these tutoring sessions will begin in the Fall, when school starts up again. So what am I doing now, with only three weeks left in the school year?

I’ve been at site for four weeks, and I’ve been very productive with my time. First, I observed classrooms, watching Language Arts lessons, how the teachers taught, and how the students behaved and learned. Then I asked teachers to submit the names of those who required extra attention. Now the fun begins!

For the following week, I pulled out each student, one at a time, to test them on their levels. I needed to find out what I was working with so I could plan my lessons accordingly. Once I’d done that, I could begin making my teaching materials.

And that’s where I’m at now. I work out of the library everyday, making flashcards, sounding-out dominoes, rhyming bingo boards, word wheels, and other materials to help them learn. I’ll also be looking at leveled readers to work on reading comprehension and coming up with writing assignments to help engrain everything. I expect I’ll be doing much of this throughout the summer.

As mentioned in an earlier blog post, I also plan to begin my library project during the break. The school’s library is well stocked, but the books lack organization. Some are in good condition, others not so much, and some need to be discarded completely. There are textbooks and encyclopedias that are out of date and have collected a thick layer of dust. I plan to take some time to make an inventory, organize books, and further brainstorm ideas for improvement. Some ideas already include patching a hole in the roof, building more shelves, implementing a smoother book-borrowing system, and establishing functional library hours that students can rely on.

What are you eating?
One of the biggest adjustments I am making is my diet. There are many things I see in the shelves of supermarkets that we have in America, but they are not within my price range. Sometimes there is a Jamaican equivalent, other times there is not. And I have a budget, coupled with a currency exchange that sometimes makes shopping a challenge.

Another aspect to this adjustment is that I have gone vegetarian. I am still eating fish, but I do not eat chicken or any other meat. Because I am so new to this, I am learning how to make up for the missing nutrients in my diet, but I hit red tape everywhere. For example, nuts make up an excellent source of protein, but they are expensive here. Peanut butter has become a staple for me. So have beans, which is something I never enjoyed eating back at home.

I do have not the luxury of eating out, or picking up some Chinese, sushi, or pizza, as I am so accustomed to doing in America. I also do not have my usual variety of frozen meals or other pre-prepared foods. Therefore, I have no choice but to finally buckle under and learn how to cook. Sooner or later, I’d have to learn to do that, right? So I buy fresh fruits and vegetables at the market, and I am learning the different ways that Jamaicans season and prepare their dinners. I started easy, boiling or steaming most of what I eat, but I finally bought some teriyaki sauce and I’ll soon be playing around with the sauté pan. Once I get used to doing that, I’ll get more creative.

Substitutions also play a big role. Let’s take coffee for example. I buy Blue Mountain Instant, and sweeten it with creamer. But CoffeeMate powder creamer is all they have, and it wasn’t long before I realized how expensive it is, and how much of it I use. So I asked around and discovered that most Jamaicans use sweetened condensed milk with half crème. It’s a far cry from a Starbucks latte, but I am not complaining.

Lastly, I am slowly but surely making typical Jamaican meals a larger part of my diet. Rice and peas are big here, and so they have also become staples for me. I enjoy popular Jamaican dishes like ackee & saltfish, and chicken foot soup, minus the chicken foot. I’ve fallen in love with the bun, which is a type of sweetened bread that comes in different flavors, sometimes with cheese or raisins inside. You can buy them just about anywhere, and it’s super filling. Bulla, or coconut bread, is also quite delicious.

What does it mean when you say, “I’m doing okay?”
In America, if someone says, I’m okay, that usually means that they’ve got something going on, but they’re not about to talk about it. For a Peace Corps Volunteer, that’s not what it means.

From the outside looking in, you couldn’t possibly understand, but I am adjusting and adapting to new things every single day in ways I can’t begin to describe. I’ve made changes I wasn’t ready to make, or choices that wouldn’t have been my first under different circumstances. I’ve given up certain comforts and favorites, and traded them for a culture at which I am slowly easing myself in to. There are times when I don’t know the right way to behave, or the right thing to say. I live in a fishbowl; everyone stares at me because I am the outsider.

But I’m not unhappy. I’m doing okay means that I am working through the obstacles in my path and processing this new world around me. It means that while I am not always the happiest duck in the world, that I am treading water and staying afloat. I’m not thinking about ETing. In fact, most days, I am pretty satisfied. Still, everything takes some getting used to, and I swear, I’m getting there, bit by bit. I’m doing okay means that I’m hanging in, and things are going all right. It should be seen as a good thing.

Can I send you a care package?
Yes please! But before you do, there are a few things you should know. First, all packages must be sent through the United States Postal Service, or more commonly known as “snail mail.” It absolutely CANNOT be sent through another currier, or it will get held up at the airport in customs, I will have to pay duties on it, and Peace Corps will not pick it up for me. USPS gets it directly the PC office and free of all charges. From there, the package sits in wait until someone from staff heads out my way, a volunteer from my parish travels to Kingston and brings it back, or until I come and get it myself. In some circumstances, packages have been known to sit for as long as three months!

240px-Troll_Face_small — I would not be surprised if I got a rubber chicken or a whoopi cushion from certain friends of mine.

Secondly, I will be in Jamaica for two years, so let’s not get overly excited. Mailing a package overseas has its costs, and I understand that my friends have budgets and bills of their own. No worries; I won’t ask you to spend a fortune on me. I have a running list of some things that I may want or need, and a method to the madness. I’d like to make a list of those who are willing to send me a package, and in due time, I will ask each person to send it. When it is your turn, I’ll provide you with a short (and cost-effective) list of things I’d really like to receive, and the address to mail it to. If you’re feeling creative or mischievous enough, you can always surprise me with a little extra something.

A Box Of Yellow Fluff

June 14, 2013July 20, 2014 April R Narratives, Year One Animals, Chicks

Down in Morant Bay, I found myself sitting on the bus waiting for it fill up before we begin our long climb back up the mountain. For once, luck was with me, and I managed to get a seat in the front. With my bags on the floor by my feet, my lap was empty, and as nature’s laws insist, if there is space, something will fill it.

“You can ‘old dis for me please? It’s nuh heavy.. verra light,” a woman says to me through the open window. In her hands is a cardboard box that clearly would not have fit on her lap in the crowded backseat of the bus. In Jamaica, it is common for people to help each other out on public transit. I’ve seen women get caught standing, and have to pass their babies to a fellow passenger privileged enough to get a seat.

Having a good day, and feeling generous, I smile and say of course! So she lifts up the box and passes it through the window and I settle it in my lap. Only then do I take a moment to look down and see what was inside. I was expecting fruit…

…But instead I found myself looking into a box of baby chicks! Twenty-five little, yellow balls of fluff, all chirping and looking up at me with beady black eyes. I gawked, and my face melted.

The ride to Cedar Valley takes an hour, and most of the path is broken up gravel or tiny rocks on a dirt road. Every time we went over a bump, the little chicks would bounce around, chirp mindlessly, and flap their itty-bitty wings. When the road was smooth, the chicks would settle down and close their eyes for a snooze, creating a sea of yellow fuzz, only to jump up again with each new bump.

It was by far the most entertaining bus ride I’ve yet to experience. City-raised, I’ve never been in such close contact with baby chickens. I couldn’t resist myself as I reached in and picked one up, letting it sit in my hand for a moment, feeling its weightlessness. I giggled like a child, and did my best not smile and AW! like some kind of dork the entire ride.

For just a moment, I felt another taste of that satisfaction I was looking for – the kind that hits you when you least expect it and life reminds you that it’s beautiful. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to hold a baby chicken, and Jamaica placed twenty-five of them in my lap! Had I made it to the buspark five minutes later, they would have been in someone else’s. It’s amazing how such a little thing can make me smile.

And gawk in silent admiration of their cuteness for an hour.

Life In The Valley

June 10, 2013July 20, 2014 April R Year One Cedar Valley

Claiming that I live in the valley would not be entirely accurate. I live on the top of the mountain, with only a few towns further up than me.

Cedar Valley is a small community located a mere twelve miles from the tallest peak in Jamaica. I live in the Blue Mountains, made famous by the coffee it produces. Up here, the weather is 10-15 degrees cooler than on the rest of the island, and the sights are beautiful! From my vantage point, I can look down on either side and see the surrounding regions. Looking up provides a spectacular view as well. As a girl from the coast, accustomed to life at sea level, I couldn’t be happier with the change.

The mornings are a touch humid, but by mid-afternoon, a light shower cools down the area and come evening fall, the clouds settle in around us. There are mango trees aplenty, which the children love to climb and pick, and a walk in either direction is a great work out!

On Saturdays, I take a taxi down the mountain to Morant Bay, the capital of St. Thomas, to do my shopping. I meet up with the other volunteers in my parish and have lunch, visit the beach, Internet cafes, supermarket, and the fresh market.

At home, I live a quiet lifestyle with a woman in her seventies. She’s sweet and accommodating in many ways, offering assistance when I ask for it, and giving me plenty of space when I don’t. My bedroom is a comfortable size with an adjoining bathroom, and no lack of privacy. I have many windows for ventilation, and sturdy shutters to keep the bugs out when I close them. My only complaint is an icy shower that makes bathing a troublesome chore. But at least I’m not taking bucket baths anymore.

My school is amazing. A few weeks ago, during Site Orientation, I was greeted by welcoming teachers and eager students. Four weeks later, and that still hasn’t changed. The teachers and staff go out of their way to make sure that I am comfortable and happy. They feed me lunch daily, offer me little tips and advice that help make my stay in the Valley a pleasant one, and ensure that I always have a ride to and from school.

The students are just as excited to have me. They run up and hug me, shout “Miss!” every time they see me, and ask if they can study with me. Unfortunately, this can get a little tiresome. The kids often have orange powder from their cheese doodles on their fingers, and if I’m not careful, they end up wiping their hands on my clothes. Eating lunch in the library makes me a sitting duck for children to bring their faces to the window and call for my attention. The other day, I looked up from my meal six times in two minutes, and finally realized there were eight students standing outside watching me eat. Celebrity status?

The building is sturdy, made of concrete, and doubles as a hurricane shelter for the community. It has a science lab and a home economics room, which are mostly unused, and a library with some precious gems hidden away. During the summer, I will be frequenting the library and beginning work on one of my side projects; improvement. The first step is to organize the books, whilst seeing what material is present, what can be replaced, and what can be updated. Later I plan to patch the hole in the roof, and implement a more functional book-borrowing system.

I’ve been given a spacious classroom to work out of come the start of the school year in the fall, and internet is available on site. As long as it stays up, of course. I’m still working on getting it installed at my house.

Swearing In Speech

May 24, 2013July 20, 2014 April R The Trainee Diaries Swearing In

Can you believe we’ve done it? Nine and a half weeks of training are behind us, and now we look forward to the next part of our journey. By tonight’s end, we will be the next set of volunteers. We’re about to join a league of extraordinary individuals devoted to changing the world. Doesn’t that make you feel great!?

We need to applaud ourselves, not just for what we’re about to do, but what we’ve already done. Ten weeks ago, we were strangers, meeting for the first time in Miami, and today, we are family. Together, we’ve endured waves of homesickness, relying on each other for support. We tried new foods, learned a new language, and adapted ourselves to a new culture and a new way of life. We were taken out of our comfort zone and placed in homes with people we barely new, but when we left, our families grew a little larger.

That is the essence of Peace Corps. We are in the business of spreading world peace through friendship. To most people, those are pretty words meant to inspire, but to us, that is our motto. It’s our way of life.

Each of us has our own reason for joining. Some of us crave adventure; others are driven by a desire to change the world. Maybe we’re not ready to settle down, or perhaps we’ve been settled for too long. We might be looking for inspiration, or we could be fulfilling a lifelong dream. Whatever the case, it’s important that you remember your motivation, and keep it close to your heart. During the next two years, we will be tested at every turn. We’ll wonder why we gave up our comforts, like air conditioning, or hot showers. We’ll miss important family events. Our favorite foods will be hard to come by, and we’ll miss the friends we left at home. We will continue to adapt to rules and regulations for safety and we’ll live our lives on a shoestring budget.

But these are the reasons Peace Corps is so prestigious. This is what makes us leaders. Out in the world, we learn how to make something from practically nothing. We discover a new way of relating to people. We develop an appreciation for what we have back home. But most importantly, we begin a lifetime of service.

This will not end after two years. The time we spend with Peace Corps will change us forever. We will speak at colleges and universities to recruit future volunteers. Some of us will get involved with service projects. Others will discover a love for communities, travelling, and doing “good.” Regardless, all of us will grow immensely.

As educators in Jamaica, our goal is to spread knowledge. But any real teacher knows that a person never stops learning. We will share with the locals as much as we will take away from them. This is a partnership between two cultures, and oftentimes, the littlest things we experience will be the biggest lessons.

The Peace Corps has been with Jamaica since 1962. We are the eighty-fourth group to lend our skills. Together, with those before us laying the foundation, with our Jamaican counterparts, and with the help of each other, we are reminded of another motto; out of many, one people. There is nothing more valuable than partnership. The human race is a social one, and what we are doing here is a beautiful thing. This time is ours. It’s our moment to shine. Let’s leave here today and do everything in our power to make the most of it.

Ladies and Gentlemen, my fellow volunteers, welcome to the Peace Corps.

Sworn In!

May 24, 2013July 20, 2014 April R The Trainee Diaries Swearing In

Five weeks ago, I was so culture shocked that I wanted to go home. I didn’t care about my commitment; in fact, I hadn’t really made it yet. I was apprehensive about walking away from the Peace Corps, but I rationed that my happiness was more important, and at that moment, I was far from satisfied. I wanted my personal freedoms back, and I yearned for familiarity.

But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I would regret it if I left. After all, my decision to join was not one I made lightly, and I’d been alerted to the ups and downs that trainees and volunteers face throughout their service. That little voice inside my head, the one that dictates to my steadfast personality, told me to tough it out.

And today, I am so glad I did!

On Friday, during our Swearing In Ceremony, I sat with the members of my group while we waited to take our oaths. As we listened to our program directors speak, delivering words of wisdom and encouragement, I thought back to that week of doubt. It was then when I finally felt the pride and satisfaction I’d been looking for. And I knew, with every fiber of my being, this was only the beginning.

What would have happened if I’d left? I wouldn’t have realized how much of the language and culture I’d picked up. I kicked ass during the Language Olympics and amazed myself at the amount of material I’d retained. And if that wasn’t enough, I was due to give a speech within the hour.

I don’t even want to consider what I’d be doing if I were at home.

I smiled to myself, wishing that those who’d doubted me throughout my life could see me now. From a troublesome child with low self-esteem, to a Peace Corps Volunteer, elected to give a speech at the Ceremony, I was on top of the world. In the presence of PCJ staff, our supervisors, members of Jamaican congress, workers from the U.S. Embassy, and the media, I finally understood the gravity of the choice I’d made. I’d joined the Peace Corps, and I would never be the same again.

The ceremony lasted about two hours, and at its conclusion, twenty-eight trainees became twenty-eight volunteers. It felt a little like graduation. We’d spent ten weeks in training, and then we walked down a line of dignitaries, shaking their hands, and finally collecting a certificate of completion and taking a photo.

But I’ve glossed over some of the coolest parts, so let me fill you in. Our day started at 8:30 at the Ambassador’s residence. We were invited into her home, given a tour of her vast art collection, and then ushered into her veranda for a delicious, and elegant, breakfast. Unfortunately, she was called away and was not present, so we were greeted by the Chargé D’ Affaires, who fills in for her during her absence. We dined on bammi, rich Blue Mountain Coffee, egg and callaloo, pineapple tarts, cranberry muffins and tomato and mozzarella pastries.

Afterward, we took a couple of professional photographs, and then continued on to her backyard for our ceremony. After we were sworn in, we mingled in the backyard and was served finger sandwiches and cake. In the background, a selection of music was played softly. Here is my favorite part, because of all music, in the entire world, that they could have selected, they played a loop of Elton John songs. Thus proving the Elton John defines my life. =)

Now if only I can get him to play at my wedding….

By midafternoon, it was time for the volunteers to depart to our sites with our supervisors. My ride back to Cedar Valley was about two hours. As I drove up the mountain, I passed the school where I work. The students had only been dismissed a half hour earlier, so they were still hanging around the school, along with other members of staff. As I drove past, they saw me, called out my name, and jumped up and down with excitement.

I was home.

Read my speech

Cedar Valley, and the Language Olympians

May 16, 2013July 20, 2014 April R The Trainee Diaries Pre-Service Training

We’ve done it! Training is over! O-V-E-R!!!

I won’t lie – I did a victory dance for a good ten minutes.

The last two weeks of training were the most hectic, but by far the most rewarding. After leaving Ewarton, Education and Environment returned to Kingston for numerous nights of shenanigans. But I won’t divulge too much; what happens at Mayfair stays at Mayfair. But I can tell you about Language Olympics, Site Orientation Week, and the much anticipated Swearing In Ceremony.

On Monday, about two weeks ago, our training session included a series of games designed to test our knowledge and different components of culture. Each sector was asked to select four Olympians to represent the group in an intimidating Q&A session. Environment knew who their Olympians were, but Education somehow missed that memo.

So we randomly threw four people to the wolves, and I was chosen as one of them. Sitting at a table in front of the room, facing our opponents, my fellow Olympian leaned over. “I have no idea what I’m doing up here,” she whispered. “Me neither,” I returned, swallowing a lump of nervousness. We were not prepared. We didn’t study. Education was going to lose.

And then the game began.

Lending a hand at Dunn's River Falls — Lending a hand at Dunn’s River Falls

I really ought to have more confidence in myself, because I retained far more from my language/culture lessons than I’d realized. For every five questions we were asked, I knew the answer to four of them. I amazed myself, and my sector-mates. “How did you remember all that stuff!?” they asked me later. I shrugged and shook my head, still unsure of the answer.

When the Q&A portion ended, the rest of the sectors joined in for relay races and a culturally appropriate bowling tournament. The competition was tight, and the scores were close, but Education won by the skin of our teeth. I received a couple of pats on the back then, and enjoyed my fifteen minutes of fame.

The next day, we met our supervisors. For Education, they were the principals of our schools, but I can’t speak for Environment. They came from all over Jamaica, as eager and nervous to meet us as we were to meet them. Peace Corps provided us with a fun icebreaker, and then a smooth transition into discussing our hopes and expectations of each other. Later, we re-congregated for a buffet lunch, and afterward, the trainees took all of their bags and dispersed. It was time to finally go to our sites.

That’s right, folks. I finally have a site! I am located in Cedar Valley, St. Thomas. It is up in the mountains, twelve miles from the tallest peak in Jamaica. The weather up there is beautiful; it’s about ten to fifteen degrees cooler, and the scene is a breathtaking one. My home and host mother are wonderful, and my school and supervisor is just as fantastic. I am one of five volunteers from G84 to join the St. Thomas crowd. My nearest volunteer is from G82, and eight miles downhill. I’ve already been invited to join the St. Thomas PCV’s in their weekly Saturday lunches down in Morant Bay, which is a forty minute ride down the mountain.

During the four days that I spent at site, I had opportunity to meet some of the people in my community, the students and teachers at my school, and get myself acquainted with Morant Bay, which is where I will go to do most of shopping. I met the police officers in Cedar Valley and acquired the names and numbers of a few reliable taxi and bus drivers.

Other things I like about my site:

The school doubles as a hurricane shelter
internet is strong in my area
steep hills provide a great workout
my host mom isn’t opposed to me getting a cat!

We returned to Mayfair by Saturday afternoon for our last week of training. Some of the questions we’d had for nine weeks were finally answered, and some of the security measures they’d enforced were a little more laxed.

It was nice to have that last week together before we split up again for another three months. Two of our units at the hotel had kitchens installed, so we made trips to the supermarket and bought pasta, pancake mix, and various other delicious foods to cook. We ordered a plethora of pizza and consumed a generous amount of alcohol. One more week until we’re accountable for our actions, right?

And finally, before we knew it, the week was over. Tomorrow, we wake up, put on our formal attire, and proceed to the Ambassador’s residence for our long-awaited Swearing In Ceremony.

We will conclude our training and be sworn-in as the next group of Peace Corps Volunteers. The staff, our training specialists, our supervisors, and members of the US Embassy and Jamaican congress will all be in attendance.

But I’ve save the best part for last.

Each sector was asked to select one person to give a speech during the ceremony. Guess who Education voted for?

This girl right here!

Hardcore Host Mother

April 25, 2013July 20, 2014 April R The Trainee Diaries Cockroach, Countdown, Pre-Service Training

A few nights ago, I walked into the kitchen and turned on the light. In the middle of the floor sat two giant cockroaches, their antennas twitching. I am no stranger to these bugs; in fact, I know them well enough to have valid reason to fear them. Terrified, would be a more appropriate term.

Despite my phobia, a small meep escapes my lips as I ease out of the kitchen and hurry to rap on my host mother’s bedroom door. “There are two giant cockroaches in the kitchen!” I blurt out as soon as she opens it. “Where?” she asks me, reaching for her slippers. “The kitchen!”

My host mother, a short, stout woman, wearing a thin cotton nightgown, shuffles across the living room and into the bright yellow light. “Mi outta di spray,” I hear her mutter to herself. Frightened beyond words, I linger around the corner and poke my head into the kitchen. How, I wonder, does a Jamaican woman deal with a cockroach without Raid?

I soon had my answer.

The roaches had since scattered, and they were now on opposites side of the room. My host mother shuffles over to one and carefully balances herself just long enough to remove her slipper. Wielding it in her hands, she slams it down repeatedly on top of the oversized insect. Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! She stands back to admire her work. “Dat one dead!” Then she moves to the other roach, slamming her slipper down once more. Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Then she drops her footwear on the floor and slides it back on with a shrug.

I have a newfound respect for this woman.

Cockroaches aside, I am once again in Countdown Mode. Only this time, I am not counting toward a departure, but to a permanent residence. Swearing-In is in twenty-one days!

On a whole, I’m doing much better now than I was the last time I posted. There are no excuses for how I felt, and truth be told, I still feel much of the same, but I’ve been able to put those feelings aside and recognize that they will fade with time. Or they might not, which is okay too.

I can say that I was thrown off by my level of homesickness. I’ve spent countless summers at sleep-away camp and went to an out of state school, yet I never missed home the way I do now. I suppose it’s the cultural adjustment. I also may have scared myself by reading some material PC provides for our families. In it, it discusses how many Returned Volunteers have a harder time adjusting to life at home after service, than they did adjusting to their host country. That was a mistake on my part; there is a reason this material is given to the families and not the volunteers. I worried that I’d committed a grave error by leaving my home, after finally finding happiness, only to return after two years and have to find it all over again. The only consolation is that I am an adventurous soul, and I would not have been satisfied for very long. Perhaps this is for the best.

Last Saturday, the education sector pooled our money together and rented a bus to take us up to Ocho Rios (referred to from now own as Ochi) to go to Dunn’s River Falls. It’s a private beach, complete with a food stands, local craft tents, a beach, and a waterfall that you can climb up with natural pools at each level to hang out in. I especially enjoyed paying the Jamaican rate to get in. We had to present our Peace Corps IDs, that has the PCHQ address listed, to prove that we are residents of the island. It would have cost us three times as much, otherwise!

(more pictures from DRF to come)

It was a great day, and well worth the money (DRF admission and bus fare). The sun was hot and the water was cool. We stopped in town on the way out to pick up some ice-cream, or pay a visit to Burger King or KFC. But my stop in town was much, more successful, and as far as I’m concerned, much more exciting than any ice-cream, Burger King or KFC. At the supermarket in Ochi, I found Smartfood White Cheddar Cheese Popcorn.

MADE MY WEEK!

On a final note, I’d like to thank my friends who reached out to me during my time of need. I enjoyed hearing from you, and appreciate the lengths you went to ensure I felt loved. It was exactly what I needed to pull me through a difficult week. I’d like to remind everyone that I encourage emails, and even the silliest of sorts is welcomed.

Speaking Honestly

April 15, 2013July 20, 2014 April R The Trainee Diaries Emma, Just Being Honest, Pre-Service Training

I’m frustrated.

And that’s putting it simply.

I’m frustrated with mosquitoes, with walking long distances in sweltering heat, sweating out my good clothes, and of always feeling dirty and grimy. I haven’t washed my hair in days…

But frustration is a big part of what it’s like to be a volunteer. We’re in a new place, dealing with new situations, and presently, being lectured day in and day out while living out of a suitcase. After being sworn-in, I’ll have a whole new set of frustrations to deal with.

We are reminded repeatedly that Peace Corps service is as much of a challenge as it is a reward. This post isn’t all rainbows and butterflies, and you should be aware that there will probably be more like it in the future. This blog is my outlet; a place for my voice to be heard, and I intend to use it as such. I’m speaking freely here. It is my platform, after all.

My first grievance is with training. They weren’t kidding when they said it will drain you. We spend seven hours a day sitting in our professional clothing (after first walking and sweating in them), listening to lectures, and trying to get a grasp on what it is we’re going to be doing. We receive a broad view, yet every assignment varies in degree. We still have not been placed, and I for one am getting antsy.

Training isn’t terrible – don’t misunderstand – but the days seem to be dragging on. I have questions that still haven’t been answered and I am forced to find within myself another daily dose of patience.

I just want to be placed already! I am tired of living out of a suitcase, having no idea what my next living and working situation will be like. I want control of my diet (my host mom prepares most of my meals), and I want to dictate my own schedule. Right now, we go and do what Peace Corps tells us to. I’m ready for the next stage, and we still have four more weeks to go.

The problem with me is that I have a pessimistic side. I try to keep it at bay, but through my frustration, it’s coming out faster than I can stop it. What if this, and what if that? This past week, I’m afraid I lost sight of what I wanted. Homesickness is setting in, and the temptation to give in became overpowering. With the help of friends and family, I managed to steer myself back on course long enough to commit myself to the end of training. At the moment, it’s hard to see much further than that.

I suppose I miss the conveniences I’m accustomed to. I had internet at my fingertips and a set of car keys in my hands. I exercised regularly, and ate my favorite foods with my favorite people, while watching my favorite TV shows. Do we see a pattern here? I’m still adjusting to this new life. I walk into a supermarket and scan the shelves for something familiar. I long to see a car where the steering wheel is on the left side. I keep two quarters in my wallet, because they’ve become memorabilia.

And I miss my Emma. Oh, how I miss my girl…

On a more positive note, I had a unique shadowing experience. I travelled out to St. Thomas last week (by myself, via public transit) to shadow a PCV from Group 83 who is like me in many ways. We bonded instantly, sharing a love for arts & crafts (primarily of the string kind), kids, teaching, and The Big Bang Theory. We are the same age and share many other similar interests. Visiting her shed some real light on what the next two years might be like for me. It answered some questions, and raised a few others. More importantly, it gave me a chance to really consider what I am doing here in Jamaica and if it is something I could be happy with. I’m still not a hundred percent sure of the answer, but I suppose that is okay for now.

In the meantime, it would help to hear from my friends back home. I have limited internet, and I find I miss the camaraderie Facebook usually has to offer. Instant messaging and texting have become a thing of the past. I would hate for sparse communication to cause a divide between my closest comrades and me. Always remember that I have email, and still do my best to check it daily. I’d really love to hear from you.

For now, the most logical course of action is to keep my chin up and hope for the best. Four more weeks of training; here we go.

The Next Chapter

My Peace Corps Volunteer Experience

Author: April R