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.

“Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snooooowww …”

Caroline, one of my 11 year old students, spoke to me a little bit after our lesson tonight.

Caroline: So … there’s snow in Canada, right?

Me: Huh? Yeah, sure!

Caroline: About … how high?

Me (thinking of this year’s enormous downpour and wanting to be impressive): About … (pointing at my head) this high, this year.

Caroline: WHA? How can that be??

Me: It happens every year. Snow falls.

Caroline: But … but isn’t that dangerous?

Me: Nah. We can navigate easily enough. We shovel our walks, and there are big trucks with huge shovels that clean our streets once in a while.

Caroline: But … (then gestures a huge 6-feet-high piece of snow falling all in one chunk)

Me: What? Wait, no! Snow doesn’t fall in one big chunk! Ack! That would be terrible!!

Caroline: Then how DOES it fall??

Me (really giddy, because it’s just so cool to get to describe snow for someone who’s never experienced it – ever – not even on tv … ): It’s fluffy, light … Like, rain … but softer … Basically it’s rain, but it’s so cold outside that the raindrops freeze before they hit the ground.

Caroline: Wait! Rain just freezes? Before it hits the ground?? So how cold IS it, then?

Me: Pretty cold.

Caroline: Like, how would you dress?

Me: AH! Ummmm, ok. Other than underwear? Pants, socks, shirt – then, boots, sweatshirt, scarf (Caroline’s mother: “What’s a scarf?” Me: “A thing that keeps your nose from freezing but strangles you.”), coat, hat, mitts … on the coldest days, that is.

Caroline: Wow … so, um … do you ever think of coming back to French Guiana?

Me: Well, I’m pretty sure I’ll visit within the next five years.

Caroline: Can you do something for me then?

Me: Yeah?

Caroline: When you come back, can you bring me a jar of snow?

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Note to readers: Caroline was aware that the snow would have melted by the time I reached the country. In her defense, I was considering bringing back a small jar of rain forest rainwater myself a few months ago.

A Goat Called Lola

And so the “dynamic duo” is reunited once again, as a friend put it. Sarah has landed in French Guiana (“I bet I’m the whitest person ever to set foot in this country!” – indeed, I should get a picture comparing our arms … ).

Despite the different climate, country, culture, and surroundings, having Sarah walk through my house door on Friday night seemed like the most natural and normal thing to me. She plopped on the sofa and we chatted like we were still in our tiny snowy Montréal apartment.

Well, to me, it felt normal, anyway. Most probably because I’m much more acclimatised, apparently. Sarah pointed out that she had to take a few seconds to realize there WAS oxygen in the air, and not just humidity, when she first walked out of the plane. I guess I easily forgot how the extreme humidity was the cause of my viola’s unglueing …

She is now living a little ways out, between my house and the village I visit every weekend. A short drive really. I therefore got to visit her and her new home for the next three months on Sunday.

They have a gazilion pets at that house. Two cats (I finally got my purring-kitty fix, after six months), two big black labs, many chickens, and … a goat.

Called Lola.

And the goat’s role is really just a house pet.

I was a little weary at first, but Sarah showed me how you could lean your fist on Lola’s horns and forehead, and she’d playfully push back. I obliged.

Goats are strong. It was really amusing.

What I didn’t realize was, once I was done playing, she wouldn’t want to stop. So after I removed my fist, she contented herself with leaning on, then strongly pushing, my knee cap.

Cute. Real cute.

Now I want a goat too.

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 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.

Cayenne, Montréal, and old aquaintances

First off, I have a gazillion new pictures up: some recent, and some I previously said I’d put up two months ago (like Carnival).

First Set: Carnival

Second Set: Naw-Ruz party

Third Set: The Doekoe girls

And more … but not as sets. So everything else, might as well just check out my flickr site in general.

So a while back, I mentioned having to go to Cayenne, the capital of the French Guyanese department. We finally made the trip this weekend. First, may I mention how it was great to sit in the back of a car and look at the scenery roll by. Palm trees, vines, heavy rain, hills, and … North American pine trees?!?  (apparently they tried establishing a commercial paper mill and the poor trees didn’t turn out as prolific as they wanted).

We arrived in Cayenne to organize a tutor refresher workshop on Sunday. This meant we had a relatively free Saturday, and the most memorable moments were spent in the shiny new Baha’i Center. More specifically, I spent most of the time with a man called Bart. Turns out he’s Canadian too. Not only that – he plays guitar. Well. So we jammed. And it felt awesome to once again play things like “La complainte du phoque en Alaska,” “Orange Blossom Special,” “Matapatalimatou” … and of course “La Bamba” with everyone switching instruments so we could all have a challenge (me on drums, Bart on fiddle, Oginio on wooden spoons [which, for a local youth, was a total novelty - percussions with wooden spoons, who would have though!], and Philip on guitar) (Ok, Philip plays guitar, so he was the steady one of the group).

Turns out Bart played music with my mother quite often around thrity years ago back in Canada.

Small world.

In other news, and many of you have already been harassed by me about this, is that I’ve officially been accepted in my Masters’ program at Université de Montréal (music composition, audiovisual applications) (this means cinema and video games). I guess that project I wrote during those first 6 days stranded in Paramaribo was good enough.

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And the car, which had previously died and kept us from going to Cayenne in February, has died again. For real this time. I’m car-less for a while now. The poor little Twingo.

Happy Naw Ruz!

I was asked to send in a one-minute video of myself explaining where I am and what I’m doing to the Baha’i community of Ottawa, my home town. They’re making a compilation of everyone who’s not in the country to celebrate Naw-Ruz (Baha’i New Year) on Friday’ party. So I obliged.

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!

Four Months

Strange happenings:

• Almost ran over venomous snake with car. Twice.
• Meats eaten: armadillo, chicken claw, shark, piranha.
• Plowed an Amazonian field with hand machetes to make a soccer field with 10 other boys.
• Found that 23 degrees Celsius, when temperature usually stays at 27, can actually feel relatively cold.
• The Lord works in mysterious ways: new plane itinerary makes it impossible for me to reach Canada on the day I fly back, so I’m *forced* to stay in New York for a few days, and visit my friends of the surrounding area. My family is also free to go to a cousin’s wedding on the same day I was arriving.
• I’m becoming more tolerant as a person. How strange.
• I’m now preferring tea to coffee. That’s the strangest yet.
• Oh, and for those of you who don’t know yet, my dear and beloved McGill (ex) roommate will be hopping by St-Laurent (town where I currently reside) for a whole three months to do an internship in Public Health as part of her Masters’ degree. She had to find an overseas location. I just happened to be overseas and to know the right people for her to find a project here. … EXCITED!!!

Of Pillow Fights and Chicken Costumes

Of pillow fights:

Of chicken costumes: