Wrap-up

I was hoping to write more after coming back, but the truth is, having found my friends and family again, I don’t feel the need to write here anymore … except one last time. Just to wrap things up.  So here we go.

French Guiana was not easy. And I was also not the easiest person with whom to work. But I would never change that experience with anything in the world. I have discovered so much about myself, about others, and about ties that unite seemingly different peoples into one family. I’ve seen the power of words, of the Word, and of wordless communication. I’ve seen the devastating effects of illiteracy, and shared the joy of my friends when they discovered that, after months of work, they could string together syllables. I’ve experienced the freedom of washing and bathing in a small creek under the stars, and playing in a dusty field with children until dusk. Sang out loud and not cared if we were in tune or not. Encouraged girls and women that they do have a place in a world dominated by men. Shared prayers for healing, protection, mourning, and growth.
And, for a year … I felt useful.

This is a quote from a letter I wrote to some members of the Local Spiritual Assembly of Ottawa. I find it wraps-up my feelings quite well.

I am now a Master’s student at Université de Montréal, studying film scoring composition. It’s very exciting, and very heavy as far as course load goes (think 3 short videos to score within the span of 6 days, each having between 24h-48h to write them).  Here’s an example:

I have also been reunited with my good violin. He and I have had quite a few adventures already. I have stepped on a stage for the first time today since my return. I’d forgotten how much I love it. Thankfully, I haven’t lost too much of my technique, though my fingers are distinctively slower.

I now live in Montréal in a beautiful large apartment, high ceilings, wooden floors – my room is so big it could fit all of the family at PK-10 where I would stay during the weekends (this is still awkward for me …). Food is cheap. My new roommate is another fiddler – and we are currently fiddling together, and building a studio in our apartment, as she will be also studying in my program in January. We have wonderful neighbours, and there is a small sense of community in this building. There are many trees – we practically live on the top of Mount Royal and can see the whole city from our roof top (because we have access to a rooftop!).

Some have asked me if I had some sort of culture shock coming back: many white people, big cities, different values, different levels of honesty …. I’ve got to say: culture shock has been at minimal level (especially when you consider I flew directly from French Guiana to New York City). I had braced myself for things to have changed back home. And things have. And I was fine with it. (Again, though – I’m still in awe with the luck we had finding this apartment, getting into the film program, and how everything is just so … easy … except when it comes to paperwork.)

I have also somehow transformed into a more initiative, calmer, and flexible person. Not only people tell me – I feel it. I rarely feel rushed or stressed anymore. I spend less – I feel less like I HAVE to buy this and that and ooo that too … Of course I’m still extremely far from perfect, and will always be … but these are good changes.

I have also officially switched from coffee to tea, as tea was more available and affordable than coffee back at the Walker’s house. This may contribute to me being calmer …

I find myself being asked so many times the following: “SO! You were gone in South America! How was it?!?” … and not being able to answer (this, Sarah Windle has also experienced). So many things happen in a year. So many emotions, so many thoughts, so many decisions.  How can I wrap it all neatly into a two-minute answer? I see now that I can’t. So I must sift through many of my experiences and pick out small episodes that may interest some people. Even my new roommate has heard practically nothing.

I’ve reconnected with the Baha’i community of Montréal … I can’t believe how many artists, GOOD artists, there are … I’m now trying to get some artistic projects going: such awesome opportunities! I’m also volunteering at the Shrine of Abdu’l-Baha once a month as a guide, where I get to learn more stories of Him, and get to tell them in turn … (and learn how to make Persian tea … mmmmm, Persian tea …)

I got to communicate with the next Youth Year of Service which will be picking up the projects where we left them in French Guiana. She sounds very competent, and is starting up a blog of her own (http://dugoutcanoe.wordpress.com). Apparently reading this helped her get an idea of how it can be over there. If that is the case, then this blog has served its purpose, and I’m happy about it.

And lastly, today, I just gave my first children’s class in North America. Ever. Who were the kids? … a bunch of jovial kids, many having just arrived from Haiti and Africa this summer (with one little Québecois girl).

And for a moment, while the kids were clibing all over me in the yard … I was transported back in French Guiana.

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If for some strange reason, someone wants to continue reading about my ramblings as I go on with life as a film music student, you can find my thoughts on my other blog, which I’ve also had for a while in French Guiana when I wrote of things that did not involve my experiences there: http://randomivity.wordpress.com

First Differences

So, I’ve changed a bit ever since French Guiana, as I’ve noticed today. Working so closely with children made me prone to associate with them more comfortably.

Today was an easygoing day,  where Sarah and I went to a beach on the Atlantic ocean for the afternoon. I’ve never been on a beach with so many people and parasols in my entire life. Anyway. What do you do at the beach? You can a) swim, b) sun tan, and c) build sand castles. (ok, ok, and d) play volleyball). We swam for 40 minutes, and then there was a general feeling of “now what”?

… let’s build a giant sand sea turtle!

Here’s where it happened. While getting the general shape down, two seven-year-old boys walked up, whispering to each other: “Hey, that looks like a turtle. D’you think it’s a turtle?” – Originally, I may have just ignored them and glorified myself while thinking that, woohoo! It does look like a sea turtle, yay, we’re doing such a good job at building a sand sea turtle!

This time I looked up, said “Yeah, you’re right – it IS a sea turtle! Wanna try making your own?”

“Well, nah – we’re not that good!”

“Nah, look – it’s just a big lump with four legs and a head! It’s pretty easy! Take a big stack’o muck from the water and go from there!”

… and so on and so forth, and the next thing I knew, I spent the remaining three hours with the boys making the turtle, while Sarah had to run away from the sun before burning to a crisp (she has … very … white skin).

I would have never gone that far before going to French Guiana. Sarah and her family even went out for a walk along the beach later on and stopped by to ask me if I wanted to come or if I’d rather “stay here and play”. Before, spending time with kids felt like I had to constantly put on an act, which was tiring. This time? I decided I was having more fun with the kids (sorry Sarah ). So I stayed and played.

Ke Gangadu

So – the new group with whom I’m staying on the weekends. This is them. The nutty uncle that attacks people with flour and juggles babies is the drummer with the light green shirt.

I also DO have a few new pictures. We have a fun fun clothing relay race game for the lesson on the Bab (er … for those of you who sort of know the history of the Faith, and wonder how in the world a clothing relay race ties into lessons on the history: the Bab worked as a cloth merchant with His uncle as a youth … hence the clothing relay race … it’s a stretch, but it works …!)

Also: there is this particular tree here that has pretty pink puffs as flowers.

Quite a few of them, actually.

Just look at the mess.

Six Months

John, a friend of mine who has traveled to a few countries and stayed in a village in China, has coined the following: “The Six Month Hump”.

He means that when you live in a new area (let alone a new country), it takes about six months for you to really start getting into the new culture and the new rhythm, and find your own space in it.

I’m inclined to agree.

This week was the first week that I brought out the fiddle to someone’s house without it being an event. Just – bring the fiddle to fiddle a bit after a children’s class. The whole family got into it. The father was laughing out loud, he found it so different and fun. But I wasn’t playing French-Canadian fiddle tunes like I would have done a few months ago. I was playing along a song in Sranan-Tongo.

This is what John meant by the six-month hump. I can now go in a house here, feel comfortable with their slightly different ways, and feel comfortable pulling out some of their tunes and get everyone going. Just as if I were at home playing a French-Canadian tune.

It was nice.

I plan to do it again.

Other things to celebrate my six-month hump:

• I’ve gotten more and more into cartooning. Coming soon: “Twi-no-go; the Life and Adventures of Twingo” (“Twingo” is the label of the little car we use – it gives us maaaaany little adventures …)
• I completely forgot to update this here, though I’ve emailed practically everyone I know: I was accepted in my Master’s program (some of you may recall that I had to write a project while was stranded in Paramaribo, Suriname, during my first week). To quote my post from November 8th: “… those six first days were definitely not lost to me. Definitely not.”
• I ate piranha again. And chicken claws.
• 19-day Feasts are becoming more and more prominent in the community. People are wanting to host them at their own house more and more.
• Some of you may also recall me mentioning that my dear, dear friend Sarah was to possibly join me here, work on a Public Health internship for three months, and go back home when I did too. Well, she’ll be stepping on South American soil in less than a week. Ex.Ci.Ted. (There’s just something about sharing such an experience with a close friend. Reliving the experience while sharing the memories with someone else keeps it alive.)

The Magic of Duct Tape

So this weekend I went to the village (PK-10), as usual, where my older kids (8-10 years old) are always a highlight for me. They’re incredibly noisy and all over the place, but without a trace of mean streak in them. So it always ends up being fun despite the craziness (this is one of the few boisterous groups that don’t have a violence problem). That, and they’re hilarious together.

One boy in particular is incredibly smart. Jorghinio, nine years old, lives in this completely impoverished area and dreams of becoming a doctor. I believe he can make it if he really wants to, because he’s so incredibly smart and good-natured, and I doubt the country won’t fund his university studies if he ever applies for scholarships when he gets to that point. Again, though, he’s nine – he’s got time to decide. But this kid is, without a doubt, gifted.

Back to the story. We were working on reading comprehension stuff in the carving hut (the only enclosed space with a decent table). No one was carving at that point, nor giving lessons, so we were free to use it. This weekend, as usual, these five kids were bouncing off the walls. They were just NOT quieting down. But, lo and behold … Jorghinio (who is usually the loudest) saw my big duct tape roll, which I had brought for kite-making afterwards, and piped up: “Hey! Can I have a long piece of tape? I’ll stick it on my mouth. I know that when I talk, I get everyone else talking. So if I shut myself up by taping my mouth, we may be able to finish the work!”

So I taped his mouth shut.

The four other kids then jumped up to me and said “Me too! Tape my mouth too!”

So I taped all of their mouths.

And they also wanted me to tape their hands together like handcuffs, to add a challenge to writing their answers. So I obliged. (The strangest things can spontaneously become a game.)

And so I began reading true or false questions, where they vigorously nodded or shook their heads to answer, and scribbled away “f”s and “v”s (faux & vrai) on their worksheets.

At that precise moment, one of the French sculpting students, a 50-ish year old strict-looking lady, walked in on me, looking for the sculpting teacher.

She basically froze in the door frame. Looking at me. With five kids with their mouths taped shut and their hands tied.

You can imagine how I tried to talk myself out of that one.

Thank God the kids looked like they were enjoying themselves.

Of Zen, Craftmanship, and Weekend Plans

I need to learn how to chill out. Seriously. I am, as a person, very nervous. Sometimes it blows out of proportion. I get scared for the smallest things, and I don’t realize the effect it has on my attitude, my self-esteem (and therefore my performance), and my sleep (and therefore health).

Sometimes stressful situations will roll off my back like water on a duck. Other times I’ll freeze out of fear. I still don’t know what makes me trigger, but it’s really getting on my nerves. I’m afraid that my nervousness and my fear comes through during some of my classes, and that maybe I end up destabilizing the kids. Isn’t the whole point of these classes for them to feel good about themselves and to have fun? Having a nervous and fearful teacher won’t give that effect. I need to zen-out.

That being said, I have another artistic outlet that I realized I haven’t explained yet.

I’m learning how to carve. Saramacca-style. They call that “Tembe”, which is interesting, as the word “tembe” is also used for any other craftsmanship, including hair-braiding. (Hair-braiding here is an art. Seriously.)

So for the past few months, I’ve been slowly designing a chess board with Saramacca designs on the edges. My teacher has been VERY patient with me. Wood-carving demands for precision and arm-strength. I’m definitely lacking the necessary arm-muscle, so it doesn’t take long for me to get tired! Therefore, I’ve been bringing my chess board home and working away at it little chunks at a time. I am now finished drawing and outlining everything with a thin cut. The next step that I’ll be taking today is sanding down the pencil marks, and then I start digging for real. (The 32 squares’ outlines have been dug out already.)

“In the Baha’i Cause arts, sciences and all crafts are counted as worship. The man who makes a piece of note paper to the best of his ability … is giving praise to God.” — ‘Abdu’l-Baha, The Divine Art of Living, p.65

This is something we’re discussing today with the older kids at PK-10.

Other items on this weekend’s menu:

• Kite-making
• Little celebration for the younger kids since they finished their “chapter” (which included putting a jewel on a crown every lesson – the crown is full, so they get to make themselves a crown – they’ve been looking forward to this …)
• Feast at the Doekoe’s house on Sunday night (“the Doekoes’” is the family with my adored five girls youth group – this is the first Feast they’ll be hosting in a long time, so in all, everyone’s excited)
• Sanding down my chess board
• Maybe getting my hair fully braided. We’ll see. Irène (friend at PK-10) has done a successful test last week.

“Do You Get Paid?”

The one question Philip and I get asked very often (other than “Are you two married?”) is “Do you get paid”?

Actually, most of the time, they don’t ask it – they just assume we do. So when the topic comes up, it’s more like, “What? You mean you don’t get paid?” (Often it’s followed by “I don’t believe you.”)

It’s not a problem. We don’t mind specifying why we don’t get paid (Baha’is are encouraged to go out in the world and do some service where needed – see post #1 of this blog). But today’s conversation went down a path that shed a little light on our monetary and material needs in a way I don’t usually look at it. I explained that the family with whom I’m staying offers me room and board – the essentials to live, basically. But that I don’t get paid.

And the 12 year old boy nodded his head and said: “Oooh, yeah, that’s cool. So your neither rich, nor poor. Just like us.”

Neither rich nor poor. You have all you need, you’re not starving, you don’t go out of your way to excessively buy random things or unnecessary things.

Why not?

Of Pillow Fights and Chicken Costumes

Of pillow fights:

Of chicken costumes:

Sunday Log

6h30: Wake up

6h30-8h30: Roam around, watch Scooby-Doo with the kids (as they do this every Sunday morning – I’m actually starting to like it). Then the older kids watch something called Galactik Football (cartoon lovers, click here for a description), which has pretty nifty animation.

8h30-9h00: Class preparation.

9h00-10h30: French class. My favourite French class, actually. Students: 9. Topic: different verbs and common actions. The most awesome moment: I popped a surprise syllable dictation on them. (these are ladies that can’t read and write). ALL of them got the syllables perfectly. We are making progress! HAPPINESS!

10h30-11h15: Drive BACK home because I forgot something. Crud.

11h15-11h25: Pick up Sosie (girl from PK-10) and drive to the other nearby village, Boussiman.

11h30-12h30: Younger children’s class. Students: 5. Topic: helping others. Nifty thing: one of the apparently “troublemaker” 12 year old boys helped me with discipline. He’s never been trouble to me. Just hard to get motivated. And now I think I have him motivated. Yay!

12h30-13h45: Older children’s class. Students: 6. Topic: Boudhism/Bouddha. Presented to them the Golden Rules of multiple religions (click here for more on that). Drew mandalas with a brief explanation on using mandalas as a meditative device.

13h45-14h00: Lunch (rice, spinach-kind of thing, and …. armadillo.)

…
But it was good!

14h00-15h00: French class. Students: 7. Topic: same as above.

15h00-16h00: Advanced French class / deepening on the Writings of the Baha’i Faith. These men are Baha’is, and we figured we can combine practicing reading and text comprehension while studying texts discussing the Faith.

16h00-17h00: Organized delegate election. Not very easy when most voters can’t read or write. Which is why I and the two men of the previous class helped. A lot.

17h00-17h15: Drive back to PK-10.

17h15-18h00: Bit of free time, and supper (banana and chicken claw soup).

18h00-18h30: Commute back home (car) with Irène, other PK-10 girl with whom I spend most of my free time.

18h30-19h00: Run around the house like a headless chicken (again) as we all try to finish organizing out multi faith prayer meeting on Unity (today was World Religions’ Day – click here for more info)

19h00-20h30: World Religion Day prayer meeting. Participants: 10.

21h00-21h45: Drove Irène back to PK-10, and came back home.

21h45-22h30: Supper (but not me – that banana chicken-claw soup was filling, thank you …). Discussed a bit of the weekend’s events all together. Got a raspberry birthday pie. I think I mentioned ONCE that raspberry was one of my favourite fruits. But Jackie had remembered.

22h30-00h30: Laundry, shower, answered to an onslaught of (wonderful) birthday emails. Thanks guys. I love you too.

00h30: Bed.

Friday Log

7h00-8h30: Wake up, eat breakfast, prepare class, etc etc

8h30-9h00: Commute (bike) – today, it rained, and I DIDN’T forget my raincoat. Huzzah.

9h00-10h30: French class. Students: 5 ladies. Topic: the body.

10h30-11h00: Commute home (bike).

11h00-13h15: Mega weekend planning. Translated one page of reading for beginner readers – then developed exercises for 3 of those pages (for 3 different groups, all moving at a different pace). Planned children’s class, French class, junior youth/youth class.

13h15-14h00: Lunch: Pasta casserole (meat+melted cheese=yummmmmmmm…)

14h00-14h50: Finish planning for afternoon class.

14h50-15h00: Commute (bike).

15h00-16h30: Children’s class. Students: 9. Topic: Helping others. Insisted an adult stayed with me this time to help with discipline. Just their presence helps.

Discussed with the junior youth of that neighbourhood. They’re interested in a class. Am going to try to start a class on Fridays, 16h30, for an hour, next week.

16h30-16h40: Commute home (bike).

16h40-18h20: Prepared voting ballots for delegate election coming up; prepared stuff for tonight’s Feast; shower; ate quick sandwich.

18h20-19h00: Drove Philip to the Wagui Pasi (the village where he has classes) for Feast there; picked up Karim (ex-Montrealer now living in FG) for Feast in other location.

19h00-21h00: 19-Day Feast. 14 adults. Slew of kids. Awesome. Have pictures. Will upload when I have time. Most awesome thing: it was the first time this lady hosted a Feast in her home, and she went all out.
21h00-21h30: Drove people around.

21h30: Got home. Alone. (Bob & Jackie gone for the weekend.) AAAaahhhhhhhhhhhh, peace and quiet!

But, wait!

It’s World Religions Day on Sunday, and we have a small devotional meeting for it on Sunday night, and everyone is gone for the weekend (me included starting Saturday after lunch) – and everyone will be getting back home just a few hours before it starts. Soooooo …

 21h30-00h00: I finish planning my weekend classes, decorate the house for the devotional …

00h00-01h00: Call family back in Canada. (Not the same time zone.)

01h00: Bed.