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.

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.

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.

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.

Carving Classes Jr.

I know I keep raving about this specific group of youth and pre-youth. But I’ll do it again. Because they’re awesome.

Up until now, the Doekoes have done the following:

• Wrote a song (together, within the span of ten minutes)
• Recorded so-said song
• Presented the song at an event
• Made paintings of Baha’i principles (see flickr pictures, they’re not far in the past)
• And now … requested a traditional carving class.

Seeing I just finished carving my chess board, I was all into this idea – but I didn’t want to teach them myself, for a few good reasons. 1: I’m still a beginner myself, 2: I know practically nothing when it comes to shortcuts and tricks of the trade, and 3: I am not Saramacca. I know basically nothing about the traditional art that goes on the wood, except for the few things I’ve seen.

So we found another Baha’i man who, may I say, is beyond awesome. He’s willing to teach a) young adults and pre-youth, and b) girls. (Carving is not for women here, except funny French women who seem to get pleasure out of learning things from different cultures)(I seem to fall in that category).

And man, was everyone enchanted.

Chris came with chunks of wood, sand paper, and rulers; I came with knives, pencils, and compasses. He impressed on everyone how important it was to learn this art: the cultural traditions have been dying as of late, especially with the kids’ generation. He told them briefly all the things they could do once they understood the basics of Saramacca carving. It took about two minutes, and everyone was in awe of him. He, on the other hand, was thrilled to see it was the kids themselves that had requested this workshop.

He then gave a small piece of wood and a knife to everyone and said “Go nuts”. I was a little taken aback – I expected a lesson on how to hold a knife, how to do patterns – but no. The idea was that everyone does anything they could think up of sculpting for two hours straight to see what they’re able to do, what they can’t do yet, and to get comfortable with the knife

I made a cute small leaf. On my own. Without having anyone explaining to me how to do it. *glows with pride*

THEN he sat us all down and showed us patterns, which everyone diligently measured and copied on paper. Everyone loved it so much that we’ll be carving for 4 hours the two following lessons, which is when we’ll stick our drawings on the larger pieces of wood and will carve out all of it.

I now realise why the act of sculpting is growing on me. It’s great to have a big chunk of something, then prune, and prune, and prune again until it becomes something entirely different. (Maybe that’s why I loved chopping away my own hair, sometimes with … interesting … results. But I digress.)

I’ll make a point of bringing my camera next time while all the young’ens carve. So. Focused. It’s awesome.

Cayenne Again

I love taking a weekend to travel to Cayenne. No matter how crazy it is.

First off, this time I got to drive the little Twingo the long distance because the car’s finally completely fixed (and has passed the legal technical driving test – making it legal to drive the darned thing in public). It was Philip, Caity (a friend of Philip’s from Georgia, USA) and I manning the Twingo.

On the road between St-Laurent and Cayenne. Click on picture for a few more.

And this time, we were off to Cayenne for the French Guiana Baha’i Convention. This means: election, mega consultation on stuff, and organization of stuff. Basically. I thought, when I’d taken a day to pick up the ballots of 10 different local communities (details explained in the April 24th post linked here), that I could not possibly learn more this year about Baha’i administration.

Boy, was I wrong.

Anyway, between having to translate all the consultations and discussions to an Auxiliary Board Member from French to English (and back again when he had comments to add) and having to draft a letter to the Universal House of Justice on behalf of the Convention of the Baha’is of French Guiana, I learned many many administrative nooks and crannies. Interesting ones at that.

And had a lot of fun.

Why?

1 – I learned to drum on a djembe for the first time of my life. Not only was I able to keep the beat – I learned fast enough to bring the beat to a good speed for songs and other things! Yay!

2 – There’s a theater in Cayenne. As in, movie theater. Which was playing the new Indiana Jones. In French. But who cares if it was in French. The whole story is set in the Amazon. And, I mean, come on! It’s worth it just for the Indie theme! (*cue Indiana Jones theme*)

3 – Nothing could stop us 6 youths (including said Auxiliary Board Member) to pack in the tiny Twingo and drive to the movie theater. Not even getting the car in a ditch.

Conventions can be fun.

And on a completely unrelated note, Sarah was kind enough to post some of her pictures of me and the goat. Which I shall share here.

“lula and marie-claire go head-to-hand: a fierce contest of wills ensues…”

“and the winner gets to eat the loser’s pants”

(captions courtesy of Sarah Windle)

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.)

Of Lizards and Tiled Floors

Yes.

I know.

I’m writing less and less these days.

It’s not for the lack of events, that’s for sure.

I even passed the five-month mark and didn’t write anything about it. Darn.

Perhaps I don’t write as much because many of the events are better said in comic form and am saving them precisely for that medium. So I’m giving a small update, comic form, and then I’ll figure out the things I want to type out on Monday.

Of Hogs and Half-Time

A while back , perhaps in January, I mentioned a trip up the Maroni river, and how we met a bunch of different animals, like pet monkeys, pet parrots, pet cats … and a pet hog. Well, I finally found Philip’s Photobucket site, and indeed, he has a picture of the Guyanese hog fraternizing with the tourist French dog.

It’s cute.

For a good 200 other pictures, check out his site here.

I realize I’ve been a liiiittle uncommunicative on this blog recently. Things have not been either slower- nor faster-paced. I think I’m starting to get used to my life here and find that I don’t see every day events worthy of being told anymore – which is a mistake. There are funny stories to be related every day. I also have a few ideas for a few more comic strips, which include learning how to make a gas stove work at 5am, and being trampled by a hoard of kids while playing “Red Light, Green Light”.

More up to date, for the past 17 days, it’s been the Baha’i Fast. I was under the impression it would have been horrendously difficult, due to the amount of activities we have during the day, and the heat (Fast = no eating nor drinking anything while the sun is up – it also includes a lot of soul-searching and fun spiritual exploration). But to tell you the truth, rainy season has made the temperature gentle, and biking from class to class does not parch me nor tire me. In fact, this may have been my most successful Fast yet. Interesting.

(It’s only waking up to eat breakfast at 5:45 that gets to me – not quite awake at those times – this is directly linked to my next comic about learning how to make a gas stove work at 5 in the morning …)

A few other notes: yesterday was officially my half-time in French Guiana (day 138 of 276). I haven’t been counting, but I new generally that my half-time would land during the Fast, so I calculated for fun. So there you go. The first 138 were like climbing up a steep hill – a test of endurance and perseverance. I’m now over the hill. Now it’s run run run down that hill to try to accomplish all those things I feel I should have accomplished before I leave!