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.
____________________________________________________
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.
______________________________________
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!
