Confirmations 101

Some people believe in luck. Others believe in coincidence. Karma. Or even the power of positive thoughts.

Prayers take the cake.

Here’s why.

Friday morning, St-Laurent, French Guiana, 7am: Sarah and I take the little boat across the border to Surinam. All goes well. We hop in a taxi to Paramaribo, leaving at 9am for a 2 hour drive.

Friday morning, Paramaribo, Surinam, 11am: The driver doesn’t recognize the street address we give him and I don’t know how to drive around this city. At all. I just know how the guest house looks like, and have a general feel for where it is. Quick prayer and plea for help. We take a random-ish left turn on my random directions. Hey, that’s the street we’re looking for and HEY! That’s the house too!

Saturday morning, Paramaribo, Surinam, 3:15am: 3am bus shuttle to the airport isn’t showing up. Instead of panicking, a quick prayer and plea for help – hey look, the bus is pulling up!

Saturday morning, Port-of-Spain, Trinidad, 7:20am: WHAT DO YOU MEAN MY 8AM CONNECTING FLIGHT IS CLOSED?!? But I just arrived via Caribbean Airlines from Paramaribo, I had no other choice but to arrive at this time!! (quick internal prayer and major plea for help) Check-in lady finally lets me check in, rushes me through the legal stuff while I chuck luggage in (please don’t lose it this time, please don’t lose it this time …).

… “Closed” flight ended up being delayed instead, giving me 45 extra minutes to go through security and reaching the waiting room in a comfortable time frame.

Saturday afternoon, NYC, JFK airport, 4pm: After waiting over New York City for a storm to pass, I land quite a few hours later. (Had I still kept that connection continuing to Ottawa, I would have missed it – it was leaving at 3:30pm from the OTHER airport in NYC, LaGuardia …) Sarah was on another flight to the same destination as me (the flight was full by the time she bought her own tickets) – and we had no tangible way to inform each other of when and where our delayed and possibly misplaced flights ended up (no, I don’t have a cell phone). Quick prayer for help before landing. Exiting the baggage pick-up, who’s standing right there waiting for me? Sarah.

And all our luggage made it safely too.

Now. I don’t mean to say that you shouldn’t do your best effort to be ready and to do things yourself – on the contrary, I’m a strong believer at being absolutely ready and organized to the best of your abilities. But when things are no longer in control, asking God for inspiration, or a nudge in the right direction, isn’t a bad idea.  … Of course that last one, with Sarah finding me, was no easy task for her. Apparently no one in the airport was helpful, there was a lot of wandering outside the airport involved … but there was one baggage claim clerk that helped her confirm where and when my flight landed, though he let her know it wasn’t his job to do this. Who knows. The confirmation from that prayer perhaps inspired that gentleman to help out anyway, allowing Sarah to find me … (there are more details involved in this one, including wrong flight numbers, landing in Philadelphia, and other such things …)

Last prayer and confirmation I have to share:

July 2007, Israël, Haïfa, the Shrine of Baha’u'llah: Prayer: I’m not sure helping out an English teacher in a private school in Brazil is the right place for me as a Year of Service, though they’ve confirmed it was all good and I was expected t arrive in mid-January. I pray intensively in the Shrine at the threshold of Baha’u'llah’s tomb that my capacities be used at their maximum, wherever that may be.

July 19th, 2007, Ottawa, Canada – less than 24 hours after arriving from my pilgrimage to Haïfa: I receive an email from the private school in Brazil saying they can’t house me, and that I should apply another year, or apply somewhere else for my Year of Service. I glance rather quickly at the list of places that asked for help. Though I’d previously seen the article on French Guiana and had though “Ack! No way! I don’t want to go live in villages, I know I can’t do it!”, this time I though “Well, I speak French, and there’s a lack of French-speaking people to help around the international Baha’i community as I’ve learned while in Haïfa …” An hour and a couple of emails later, the Canadian pioneer committee received the new list of countries I’d picked as destinations, immediately contacted Jackie in French Guiana (yep, this committee’s all about effective action, let me tell you that …!), and she contacted me back asap with thorough info concerning the country and the status of the community there. (Still in that same hour.)

No other country replied.

I went to French Guiana.

When praying, I had in the back of my mind that my capacities were mainly music – forgetting that speaking French was a capacity, and teaching how to practice a language like you practice music, being patient (to a certain degree), and other such things that I can do but didn’t realize could be useful … discovering abilities and capacities that I didn’t knew I had also happened …

Man, were my capacities stretched to the limit.

But again – my prayers had been answered.

A Last Shot at Imagery

The Twingo on Bob and Jackie's land, Wagi-Pasi, a very hilly place with a little cliff there on the bottom. (Most stressful driveway. Ever.)

How babies are carried in general. 1) Piece of cloth 2) stick baby on back 3) sling baby on back - and voilà.

Claire and Jackie on drums. Cutest little girls in Wagi-Pasi.

Philip getting his hair braided one last time. (Two great expressions there, guys ... Romaika:"What the heck?" - Philip:"SmileOUCH!")

A dragonfruit (a cactus fruit). Big. Spiky. Hot pink. What more can I say.

Ramble ramble ramble.

Yet again – T-minus 7 hours and counting (that is, for the pirogue-bus trip – then plane trip the next day).

This past week has been very, very productive, as far as typing, creating, fixing, visiting, and packing goes. If it’s worth discussing, I’ll have to decide later – the computer’s now going in its bag.

Here’s to hoping the luggage doesn’t get lost again.

Another Lesson, Another Victory …

I usually don’t post videos as the official post itself, but this I must do.

It is fixed. And I can play on it. I have learned how to reglue a viola neck on its body, fill in potentially annoying cracks, sand down pegs for a good fit, and drill holes in the pegs for the strings.

And Bob and I had fun doing it.

Like a Mack Truck (or “Full Circle”) …

So it hit me a few days ago that I was really leaving for good. A friend recently contacted me bout traveling plans, and while searching through festival events in New York and Montréal, and train and plane tickets, I thought, “Hey, that plane ticket is dated for in … two weeks?!?”

If I can count the days and they’re numbered under 20, then that’s a shocker to me. So it hit me, then and there. Like a Mack truck. Optimus Prime size, actually.

I’ve been on my toes ever since, trying to finish up as much of the French curriculum as possible, coordinating a long-distance lease with a future roommate, and checking out my possible class schedule for my Master’s degree in September 2008.

Needless to say, my head’s a little foggy as to what will be my reality in two weeks.

How about treating it as an adventure. I think that’ll work.

(Note: see related post here)

Saying Goodbye, Part I

I’ve had to say goodbye to many people already, since a lot of families are leaving on vacation.

Yesterday I had to say goodbye to Irène in PK-10. She’s the one that, from the beginning, would help me out, explain things that the kids would like, and with whom I could just hang out. She tried (TRIED) to teach me to dance (I’m almost hopeless – but Sarah and I got some butt-wiggling success last Saturday), and I could be just plain silly with her, and we would be comfortable with it. In short, she was my best friend down here, despite the age difference.

So saying we were a little sad while saying goodbye would be an understatement.

I did get the year’s tightest hug from her, explained to her how to mail letters (she’d never bothered before, and never had a reason to until now), and we’ve promised to write. Which I’m looking forward to – in this day and age of Internet, it’s rare to find someone who’s only mode of long-distance communication is letters. That means printing out pictures I want to share, making little packages … I’m going to enjoy this.

And in French, there are two ways of saying goodbye. There’s “au revoir” (implying we’ll see each other again), and “adieu” (implying the next time we’ll see each other is when we’re near God, meaning dead). She said “adieu” – I answered “au revoir”. I insist on coming back. We’re aware that it’ll be years before I finish my studies and find funding to come again, but I’m dead set on coming back (hopefully for another project – most probably a shorter-term one: a month, three months, depending on what it is). You can’t live in a place like this, grow roots, and never come back.

So in the end, she switched to “au revoir”. And she believed it. So do I.

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Random little things of the day:

Walking barefoot in the living room today, I was going to ask Bob if we should glue the violins today (see previous post). Here’s how I asked it while walking. “Bob – I had a question. Do you think we could … get … rid of this snake in the living room?”

Indeed, I was about to step on a two-foot snake.

Ten minutes later, after snake-catching and a neat little zoology lesson from Bob, I finally asked to glue the violins.

We also had fried pineapples today. Yum.

Hide Glue

In mid-December, I’ve mentioned that my viola’s neck unglued. Since then, I got hold of another violin while waiting for violin-fixing materials to arrive. Though they’ve arrived safely about over six months ago, we haven’t taken the time to fix the viola.

A month ago, unfortunately, the second violin, which at the time was being the center of attention at a pre-youth party, got dropped – and the scroll broke off. (Way to go MC – my violin braking record is increasing at an alarming rate …)

Seeing this instrument was not mine, I was adamant at getting it fixed before I left.

So today, we took out the violin glue, the clamps, the foam, and any other tools we thought were useful, and adventured ourselves into the world of violin-making. Meanwhile, Sarah went picture-happy.

(click for more pictures)

Youth Day

A long, long time ago (“in a galaxy far, far away” or “I can still remember” – take your pick), perhaps in January, Philip had an inspired idea. We should have a Youth Conference.

One of our main tasks here was to find literate youth to take over the work we’re doing. Yet we didn’t seem to be able to see it happening anytime soon. So he began to think: when has he, as a youth, felt particularly inspired to go out into the world and help out? During Youth Conferences. Meeting new people, seeing opportunities to help, seeing HOW one can help … it was a great idea, and would have been simple enough to pull off in North America.

Not here apparently.

But he still held on to the idea that we should do such an activity. And held on and on … and eventually, despite the gazilion cultural/time/human resources constraints, we had a Youth “Thing-Picnic-Event” on Sunday. To our delight, we were a total of 27 youths on a small island in the middle of the Maroni river.

At 6:30am, we left Wagi-Pasi (the village where we stay the weekends) with a carload of a few more youths, and dumped them at a meeting point where a boatman was to ferry us to the island in two or three loads. After picking up a few people (including a bleary-eyed Sarah), we were finally all reunited on the island around 7:45am, ensuring us a spot (it’s summer vacation – and it’s a popular island to go swimming and picnicking).

The island and its beach

Armed with drums, food, and swimsuits, we began the day with a few prayers and split up into a few groups to study a few things. That was, by far, the one thing that worried me the most. These kids have just finished their exams – who wants to study more?!? But they did good. Many were way too shy to talk in front of the group, but we managed even the shyest to say a few words throughout the day.

One of the pavilions where we had the workshops

A group had come from Cayenne, the capital, and they were heading the main workshops. A few side workshops were a drumming session and a First-Aid workshop (done by Sarah – and me helping her translate a few things). Sarah and I must be some of the most nervous people I know. We both panic right before a presentation or before teaching a class – but when we actually teach, we really get into it. Go figure. It was great to get to do that together.

Sarah and Oginio

There was some soccer playing on the beach, some good food, some major swimming, and in all, everyone left the island in the evening with a grin.

“The ball’s in the water – AGAIN!”

How many youths can you fit on one pirogue?

The evening was wrapped up with a supper at the Doekoe girls’ house, where there was some serious Saramacca-American jamming going on (explained in the previous post). I’m still thrilled that Sarah brought her small bagpipes. The kids were quite confused by the concept. (“You blow in a bag, and then what? Huh? You have to squeeze it for the sound?”)

And it’s with this activity that four or five youths have expressed interest in helping out around.

Without this activity, I doubt they would have stepped up.

And without Philip pushing for a Youth Conference, I doubt we would have done this activity (despite it not being a Conference in the end).

So – kudos and thank you, Philip.

Eight Months – Wrapping Up

I am looking back at my list on my “half time” post …

organizing the French lessons’ curriculum and evaluation system (gah – any teachers out there who would have a sheet of basic second language competencies? Mom? Dad?).

Jam with local musicians: some recent contacts may make this possible – if anything, making up songs with Irène counts, I believe. We improvise on the spot. That’s considered jamming, right?

Radio shorts: maybe I should be the one to initiate a discussion of the possible actors with others who are involved, as everyone’s as busy as everyone else.

Finding new youth: set up a meeting with that one girl’s parents to see how they can all participate.

What HAVE I accomplished out of these things so as to return home in three weeks without any regrets?

1. French evaluation system: done and done. Still a few kinks to work out.
2. Jamming with local musicians: Sunday night’s rendition of Saramacca songs and American songs was particularly fun. (Saramacca singer, Saramacca drummer, Canadian fiddler, American piper, Canadian guitarist)
3. Radio shorts: postponed to next year. I’m no longer working on this project.
4. Finding new active youth: four or five have expressed interest in helping out in the community. One, with Philip’s encouragement, has already had her first children’s class this week. And I HAVE met that one girl’s parents.

So now the idea is the following. I have, starting tomorrow, three weeks left here. I’ve been here for over eight months. Most of my classes have been wrapped up (most families are on vacation now). Some people have been asking me: “what ARE you going to do during those last three weeks, then?”

Computer work.

Oh yes.

As a huge contrast to the rest of the year, I get to sit down and do solo work. Not that one type of work is better than the other – it’s just neat to have a change of pace once in a while. So here are my end of year projects.

• French – Saramacca CD: a How-To-Speak-French for Saramaccas (as many people are illiterate, this will hopefully be pretty useful). Most of the recording is done, some of the editing is done, none of the mixing has been done yet – and I hope to have it done by tomorrow evening. (These are the times I’m glad I bought my sound editing program at home before leaving.) (Thanks mom for the loan!)
• French Second Language (oral) Curriculum: I need to actually write down all of my lessons and organise my materials, so that anyone could use it.
• Class reports and recommendations: simple enough. A little time-consuming perhaps, but useful for the next people who want to help around to know what’s been already done.
• Translating a book in French and creating lessons out of the individual chapters for pre-youth classes. This project may be a rush job … depending on how organised my next three weeks will be.

Whew.

These are all the projects and things to accomplish to have a regret-free conscience when I leave.

Now, if only it was as simple to leave with a guilt-free conscience about one’s own attitude throughout the whole nine months. Leaving home and throwing myself in such a different environment has revealed some less pleasant sides of myself. Sure, everyone makes mistakes – and that’s fine as long as you learn from them. Somehow I feel I’ve missed a few learning opportunities and have repeated a few same mistakes, and it’s only now that I see them.

Better late than never.

(Still got three weeks!)

Mom Gets Chocolates – I Get Pangys and Calebashes

I remember, ever since I was a little kid, when my parents would come back from school at the end of the year with a few arms full of farewell gifts from their students. To my utter delight, there would be so much chocolate that they were obliged to share with the whole family. And a lot would have to be given away: we couldn’t exactly eat 30 boxes of chocolate before they went stale, and let’s just say it isn’t the healthiest thing to scarf down in the span of a week (a concept that I did not understand until my late teens).

Every so often, a student would get creative and give a nice candle, or a funny t-shirt, or a sweet trinket (like an apple out of granite). Those still sit visibly in the house, and they are the ones I remember mom and dad complimenting on their originality. Ever since then, I try to make gifts a little more creative – if possible, I make them myself (those of you who have been on the receiving end know that sometimes it works … and sometimes it doesn’t … ).

Fast-track to the present. I am now entering my last week as a teacher in St-Laurent du Maroni, French Guiana. The French lessons have been becoming more and more structured, and to my delight, some previously illiterate women can now read their ABC’s and can read syllables. That, in itself, is enough joy to bring home as a gift.

I entered my first end-of-year party, where I was to give each lady their diplomas, and we were to cook lunch together (all 16 of us). Due to an annoying bug, a few of us didn’t make it – I hauled myself out of bed long enough to go see them, as it was the last time I’d see most of these ladies before I leave. I actually sent Philip in my stead for the lesson part, and he was a hit: he played French bingo with them, taught them a few new things, revised a few things, and gave out the diplomas, while half the group was taking turns cooking.

When I finally got there after a few hours, I was greeted with something I was warned to expect as a teacher: gifts.

But no chocolates.

I got pangys and calebashes. Which are the two traditional things women make here. But a lot of them. They are, in a way, the chocolates you give to teachers back in North America. Can’t go wrong with them, but you’re guaranteed you won’t be the only one giving them. On the other hand, no two is alike, as it’s all done by hand. Which in itself is wonderful.

This is a pangy:

This is a calebash (half a gourd with handmade carving, the only carving women were traditionally allowed to do until recently – made to drink water, or to hold anything else you can think of … loose change, chalks for class … whatever you want):

And THIS … the “non-chocolate” item of the batch … is a hand-embroided hammock.

Oh yeah. How cool is that.

Now my only concern is, how many other groups are planning to do this, and how much overweight luggage costs on a plane …

Long story short, I might have to share and give away some of these “chocolates” with friends and family.

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On an unrelated note, Sarah, Philip, Caity and I drove to Kourou to visit the European Space Center and its launch pads (notably the Arianne 4 and Arianne 5). This included a swim in the ocean in the morning (yes, after 8 months, I FINALLY went to the sea shore).

But this particular beach is in the current of the Amazonian river, which discharges a hunk of a load of debris … mainly Amazonian mud.

So we swam in half-sea, half mud. (click for more)

You can see in the middle where the mud stops and the seawater starts. The mud was heavy enough that it stayed at the bottom and you could swim in reasonably clear water … but it was low tide, so you had to wad through a good chunk of mud to get in and out … which explains why we were the only ones swimming that morning.

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Back to my comment of women not carving anything but calebashes until recently. This is my youth group during the Wednesday afternoon, the Doekoe girls – or more like, these are the carvings they produced.

Hurrah for open-minded teachers!