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.