After several months of working at grounds with the folks of our village, David finally got an opportunity to see how produce is sold in the big city of Paramaribo. This happened as a result of meticulous planning, detailed discussion and precise logistics (a meeting got moved and David was desperate for a ride on short notice). Late Sunday night, we loaded a van with dozens of 50 kilo sacks of ginger and pom tayer. There were many people loading items and weighing sacks (50 kilos with a hand held scale – don’t try this at home) and it was very unclear how they knew whose stuff was whose. This of course did not leave any room for passengers and barely enough room for the driver so another van with about ten of us hit the road at about midnight. This road is “under construction” so it doesn’t make for the smoothest of rides. Several times it looked like someone would be launched through the roof from taking the pot holes a little too fast. After about 2 and a half hours and with our internal organs adjusted to a slightly new orientation, we got to the big “wowoyo” or market. Apparently (and obviously if you think about it) we were not the only ones making this late night sojourn. The place was swarming with people. We unloaded our cargo, talked to a few people from surrounding villages and proceeded to wait for the buyers to show up at about 5:30 or 6 in the morning. The mystery of ownership of each sack of produce unraveled when David saw that each grower used a different color twine to sew their bags shut. Several folks slept in the van for a couple of hours and David tried this also but with little of the intended effect. Apparently the driver was very well known and popular and every time David almost nodded off, someone from outside the van would bang on the side of the door and shout his (the driver’s) name. He would talk with them for a few minutes and would be asleep again within 30 seconds of the end of the conversation. Clearly an acquired skill. After selling everything, which happened pretty quickly, everybody loads up and heads back to the village. Apparently this happens a couple of times a week and even happened before the road was built. Then everything got loaded onto boats first and then transferred to vans in Moengo.
We are now providing more English lessons in Moengo through a local non-profit organization there. It’s a great program that teaches skills for working in an office. English is just one module and the program includes improving their Dutch, learning internet skills and spreadsheet and word processing software. The program also tries to find work for the graduates in local offices at the end of the class. It’s been a lot of fun for both of us.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Settling in
So, it’s been awhile since our last update and that reflects that our lives have become a little more routine. The “newness” of life for us here is wearing away and things are settling. We typically wake up, eat, clean up around the house and yard and then visit, work at grounds (although this is happening less because this time of year there isn’t a lot to do) and read. We go to Moengo once or twice a week on our bicycles – about a 30 – 45 minute ride – to buy food, go to lunch, hang out, etc. It’s a pretty laid back lifestyle. Some domestic activities still provide the chance to thrill and excite. After months of practice, Christine can now carry a full, large bucket on her head (see photo) all the way to the river without using her hands! The learning process has given the local women no end of amusement but this hasn’t daunted her enthusiasm.
As for the development work, it has also slowed down. Early on, there was a big pulse of activity in helping to organize the village, discussing wants and needs, collecting baseline information, finding potential sponsors, writing up proposals, etc. The proposals are mostly in and we are in “wait for money” mode.
Some new stuff is still going on. We’ve started giving English lessons which has been a lot of fun. We each give 2 – 4 lessons a week. We’ve split into two classes. Christine teaches those with virtually no exposure to English while David has people who have learned some English in school or at work. It’s very interesting to see how the more advanced group has been taught English. Many actually know a lot of words and phrases but because it has all be book learning and they’ve had very little chance to talk in English, they can’t actually speak a lick! It’s taken several classes to figure this out so David has just recently shifted his focus away from memorization and towards more conversation in class. Christine focuses most on inspiring confidence, increasing self esteem and having fun. Many of her class members are women who, for a variety of reasons, did not attend school at all. It’s a real thrill to see their excitement when someone responds correctly in class. Christine is also working privately with two young women who approached her for assistance in learning to read. Using materials from one of the local missionaries, she is teaching them in the local language. It’s going really well as they are both fast learners.
As for the development work, it has also slowed down. Early on, there was a big pulse of activity in helping to organize the village, discussing wants and needs, collecting baseline information, finding potential sponsors, writing up proposals, etc. The proposals are mostly in and we are in “wait for money” mode.
Some new stuff is still going on. We’ve started giving English lessons which has been a lot of fun. We each give 2 – 4 lessons a week. We’ve split into two classes. Christine teaches those with virtually no exposure to English while David has people who have learned some English in school or at work. It’s very interesting to see how the more advanced group has been taught English. Many actually know a lot of words and phrases but because it has all be book learning and they’ve had very little chance to talk in English, they can’t actually speak a lick! It’s taken several classes to figure this out so David has just recently shifted his focus away from memorization and towards more conversation in class. Christine focuses most on inspiring confidence, increasing self esteem and having fun. Many of her class members are women who, for a variety of reasons, did not attend school at all. It’s a real thrill to see their excitement when someone responds correctly in class. Christine is also working privately with two young women who approached her for assistance in learning to read. Using materials from one of the local missionaries, she is teaching them in the local language. It’s going really well as they are both fast learners.
Monday, January 11, 2010
A Death in the Village
An old woman died in the village a few days ago (12/27/09). She was one of the matriarchs here and has 9 children living in the village, and virtually countless grand and grand-grandchildren. All normal activity came to a halt and the village began to mourn her. She did not go to the Baptist church here so the mourning was very traditional which has been influenced little by the church. Dozens of people gathered in the “dead house” to tell stories about her and her life, followed by music and dancing all night long.
The second day, many more people arrived in the village and the body was prepared for burial. After washing, the body was placed in a coffin and then wrapped in colorful folded bolts of cloth, leaving her face exposed. She was covered with perfume and baby powder so as to make her rest very comfortable. The coffin was then sealed and placed on a pedestal in the dead house and a hammock hung in front of it so family could sleep next to her a last time. Then there was another night of music, drinking and dancing (which would make sleeping next to the body somewhat improbable) with many libations made to the deceased. This is done with palm “rum” which is 90% (180 proof) alcohol, cut with a little water. A small amount is first poured on the ground for the one who passed and the rest is consumed. It’s hard to say one drinks this stuff because half of it volatilizes before you can swallow (thankfully). We made to about 2 in the morning which is when many of the older (and wiser, it turns out…they were sleeping from about 7 til 2) folks came to party literally until the sun comes up.
The burial day was two days later and we were invited to attend. The body is carried from the dead house to a boat and this is when most of the crying and wailing occur. Women especially wail and yell their sorrow at the passing of their loved one. Village elders and close family ride in the boat with the coffin and another boat for the rest of us followed. We were all admonished before we left to finish crying before starting the actual burial. All sorrow was to be left in the river. A colorful flag was flown on the coffin boat and several shotgun volleys were fired to announce the passing. Upon arrival at the burial place, a path was cleaned where the coffin was to pass. It was placed just outside the boat while a proper burial site was selected and the grave was dug. All people for whom this was a first burial were asked to identify themselves. We didn’t think much of this at the time…As the hole was dug, several rituals were performed and more stories told. Overall it was a happy gathering with people laughing and enjoying each other’s presence. When the hole was finished, the first timers were told that their eyes must be opened in order to not fear the spirits of the dead. They then tied each newcomer to a small post in front of the grave by means of a vine slipped over their wrist. Then the above mentioned “rum” was poured onto some leaves and squeezed from the leaves into our eyes. As you can imagine, this was fairly painful. Fortunately, right after they try to blind you, they flush your eyes with water (also squeezed from the same leaves). Then, while you’re still tied by one wrist, they beat you with sticks and you’re supposed to fight back and try to hit the people hitting you. The “beating” has become ritualized so you could barely feel it (especially compared to the fire burning toward our brains from our eye sockets), but when some of the older guys had their eyes “re-opened”, the beating got a lot more serious. After this, the coffin was lowered into the ground and various additional rites were performed. The whole burial took about 6 hours.
The woman who died was always very kind to us and welcomed us to sit and talk with her whenever we passed her house. She would help us with language and was gentle in her teaching. Although we didn’t know her well, it was surprising how strongly we felt at her passing. Clearly nothing like what the villagers were feeling, but the sense of loss is palpable and the pain felt by the people we do know more closely has rippled through us as well.
The second day, many more people arrived in the village and the body was prepared for burial. After washing, the body was placed in a coffin and then wrapped in colorful folded bolts of cloth, leaving her face exposed. She was covered with perfume and baby powder so as to make her rest very comfortable. The coffin was then sealed and placed on a pedestal in the dead house and a hammock hung in front of it so family could sleep next to her a last time. Then there was another night of music, drinking and dancing (which would make sleeping next to the body somewhat improbable) with many libations made to the deceased. This is done with palm “rum” which is 90% (180 proof) alcohol, cut with a little water. A small amount is first poured on the ground for the one who passed and the rest is consumed. It’s hard to say one drinks this stuff because half of it volatilizes before you can swallow (thankfully). We made to about 2 in the morning which is when many of the older (and wiser, it turns out…they were sleeping from about 7 til 2) folks came to party literally until the sun comes up.
The burial day was two days later and we were invited to attend. The body is carried from the dead house to a boat and this is when most of the crying and wailing occur. Women especially wail and yell their sorrow at the passing of their loved one. Village elders and close family ride in the boat with the coffin and another boat for the rest of us followed. We were all admonished before we left to finish crying before starting the actual burial. All sorrow was to be left in the river. A colorful flag was flown on the coffin boat and several shotgun volleys were fired to announce the passing. Upon arrival at the burial place, a path was cleaned where the coffin was to pass. It was placed just outside the boat while a proper burial site was selected and the grave was dug. All people for whom this was a first burial were asked to identify themselves. We didn’t think much of this at the time…As the hole was dug, several rituals were performed and more stories told. Overall it was a happy gathering with people laughing and enjoying each other’s presence. When the hole was finished, the first timers were told that their eyes must be opened in order to not fear the spirits of the dead. They then tied each newcomer to a small post in front of the grave by means of a vine slipped over their wrist. Then the above mentioned “rum” was poured onto some leaves and squeezed from the leaves into our eyes. As you can imagine, this was fairly painful. Fortunately, right after they try to blind you, they flush your eyes with water (also squeezed from the same leaves). Then, while you’re still tied by one wrist, they beat you with sticks and you’re supposed to fight back and try to hit the people hitting you. The “beating” has become ritualized so you could barely feel it (especially compared to the fire burning toward our brains from our eye sockets), but when some of the older guys had their eyes “re-opened”, the beating got a lot more serious. After this, the coffin was lowered into the ground and various additional rites were performed. The whole burial took about 6 hours.
The woman who died was always very kind to us and welcomed us to sit and talk with her whenever we passed her house. She would help us with language and was gentle in her teaching. Although we didn’t know her well, it was surprising how strongly we felt at her passing. Clearly nothing like what the villagers were feeling, but the sense of loss is palpable and the pain felt by the people we do know more closely has rippled through us as well.
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