Everybody seems to think I'm lazy...

“Everybody seems to think I’m lazy, I don’t mind to think they’re crazy, running everywhere at such a speed, till they find there’s no need.” Wise words from The Beatles.

The day that I graduated from high school my older sister handed me our house phone so that her friend (who I never did like) could congratulate me. He said congrats and good luck and then said “welcome to the ‘real’ world.” I didn’t like it. I didn’t accept it. His words upset me and I don’t know if it was the words, the way he said it or the fact that I never did like or trust him. I decided that I didn’t have to worry about it quite yet because I wasn’t entering that “real” world for at least another 4-5 years since I was going to start college. I’ve since graduated from college, worked odd jobs for a bit and then flew to Jamaica to serve in the U.S. Peace Corps. My world is real. It may not be “real” the way that he had meant it, but I don’t think it would have been a good fit for me.

Jamaica and Peace Corps has allowed me to form relationships on a very real and honest level because I have had lots of time to become very real and honest with myself. Who am I? What do I want to do? Who do I want to be around? How can I truly be helpful and happy? This is as real as my life has ever been.  My facebook pictures may make it seem like my life is a party, but hard times call for fierce dancing (na so?). My (seeming) idleness may make it seem like I’m lazy, but my next step is being planned. Life doesn't have to be constant movement and it doesn't have to be so serious all the time.

But, anyway, I think my point here is that everyone has their own version of “reality” and how life should be lived and sometimes some people really want you to conform to their version and can’t and don’t want to even try to understand your version.  It can be really frustrating for them. I am a very quiet and introverted person and I try to say and do things with intention and so it can be a really slow process. I have now realized how extremely frustrating that can be for those who are not like that. I used to internalize other’s frustrations and get upset (and I mean breaking down and bawling on the floor upset-PC friends know what I’m talking about here) until I started to realize that I didn't have to and it has since made my life sooo much easier. “Here, these are your frustrations, you keep them.”  Basically, I've been practicing a lot of “not giving a shit.” Ok, that sounds harsh, but I like the way it sounds because it’s actually not that blunt or easy. I do give a shit, but certainly not about everything.

 Living in a different country has made me realize how human it is for others to want you to conform. Life here is different from life back home, but there are still people that want to welcome me into the “real” world (the view of the way life should be lived) and get frustrated when I don’t accept. I want to be adaptable, but I also want to hang on to my identity, my goals, and my morals. I know I sometimes border on the line of being comfortable and confident in who I am and being a stubborn jerk. Sometimes. But honestly, I can’t conform to everyone’s “reality” because it’s simply, completely impossible. 

Not all play

I work. I promise. My most accomplished work so far is at the primary school where my environmental club has a pretty amazing (mostly organic) garden going on. I say “mostly” organic only because the seeds aren't certified organic and the soil has never been tested (and is suspiciously amazing soil). I haven’t let anyone add synthetic fertilizer or pesticides to the garden and it is doing well. It’s not growing as fast as they are used to seeing and there are more bugs, but everything looks healthy and nice.

Here are some grade 6 planting tomatoes.

 The plants are still little, but growing strong.

Here I am teaching them how to make a natural pesticide out of onion, garlic and hot pepper. It is much cheaper to use than the costly synthetic pesticide and much safer for the environment and people (I’m hoping they will take some info back to their parents ;))

 Besides the garden, I include projects and games (and once I got them all to write a haiku about the environment-adorably inspiring). These are in the process of becoming a hanging garden that will have flowers to attract bees.

Here I have them playing a relay race where they had to separate man-made garbage (non-biodegradable) from nature made (biodegradable). I had a tough time with this game and it’s going to take a lot more work to get them out of the habit of throwing garbage on the ground. 

America!

I went through a phase for a while (like many angst-y, rebellious adolescents) where I was angry at America. What about America? I don’t know; everything I suppose. Wars, education, prison system, food, television, socio-economic divide… I wanted to separate myself from America, Americans and be Un-American. American to me meant something specific which I didn’t like; consumer, lazy, fat, arrogant, obsessed with superficiality, un-artistic (is that a word?). Where did I get that image of America? Why was I so convinced that I was not American because I didn’t fit into that image?

I have been lucky enough to travel to different countries with friends, with family and by myself. When you are flying by yourself you tend to make “single serving friends” (Fight Club, anyone?) and while on a long flight from Senegal to South Africa a white South African man became my one time friend. We spoke a little bit about where we were coming from, where we were going, what we did, what the gaping holes were in the Earth below us (diamond mines, he said) and what he thought of Americans. “Americans are very… confident.” That was 3 and a half years ago, but it has stuck with me. Americans are confident?? Was that what he really meant? That’s not how I heard it. What I heard was “Americans are very…arrogant.” Read between the lines. When I was in India almost 7 years ago, I came across some anti-Americanism. While at a market (with my sister and our friend) we spent some time with a talkative man trying to sell us carpets (or scarves, or pants, or something) and when he asked us where we were from and we told him Mexico (it seemed like a better idea at that time to tell most people we were from Mexico) and he proceeded to talk mad crap on Americans. Na, I don’t think we bought anything from him, but it was entertaining in the least.  And once, we were traveling through a town and stopped to watch some monkeys on a wall and when we turned to leave there was a small poster plastered on the wall with G.W. Bush’s face as skull and cross bones. The writing was in Hindi so I don’t know what it was all about, but I got the gist of it. Ya… That’s not me though, I’m different, and I’m not really all that American…Right??

I’m American to the core. I realize this the more I am away from my home country and I realize more what it means to be American. Not too recently, I was at a meeting with my community group and a man asked me to share a song from my culture (you see, here in Jamaica, every meeting starts with devotional songs and prayers) and I told him that I didn’t know any (Ya, I know, there are a gagillion American folk songs and what not, I just don’t have any memorized). He proceeded to say that that was because my country had no culture and stole from other cultures. I tried to explain that America is huge and diverse and that within regions, states, and cities there are subcultures and that is what makes America so great. But he wasn’t listening and we continued to have a friendly heated argument on my culture (and lack of culture) until someone started the meeting.

I love my space. I love diversity of food. I love my relationship with American friends. I love when time is respected. I love that as a woman I have a voice (and it continues to grow). I love American humor. I love California. I love Rialto. I love cheese. It’s in the differences where I see the similarities. Here in Jamaica, personal space is not always available. I’ve gotten used to taxi rides and don’t mind anymore when someone has to sit partially on my lap, but other than that I like to have space. In America, and especially in Southern California, you can find food from almost anywhere in the world, but here people take one look at whatever I cook and wrinkle their nose and probably won’t even bother to try it. I have realized how affectionate I am with my American friends, male and female. We hug, kiss, sleep in the same bed, share off each other’s plates and would never expect it to be more than what it is. Here, friendships with guys are a little trickier. I have lost count of how many guys have told me “I love you” or “I want to marry you” or things waaaaaaaay more inappropriate after I talk to them for a little bit. Time is a lot more relaxed here, even at places like schools and churches. I expect nothing to start on time and no one to show up when they say they will. Actually, kinda like the space thing, this is something that I am getting used to (I really hope it’s not something that sticks once I go back home though). American humor is the best. The end. Alright, maybe I’m completely biased, but we’ve got a good sense of humor and a lot of people here don’t get sarcasm which has caused some confusing moments.

I love Jamaica and I loved India and Madagascar and Mexico and I will love wherever I go next, but no matter what I pick up from these other countries I will forever have America ingrained in me (just like this Catholic guilt that I just can’t seem to shake no matter how long it’s been since I’ve gone to mass). I will not replace, but build on top of what I am. I love my Americanism. I am no longer ashamed of it, but am grateful for the opportunities it has given me. I still have my issues with some things in America, but as an adult I understand the reality that life isn’t fair, nothing is perfect and there must always be a constant strive for betterment and change with the times. I no longer hold such unfocused anger towards America anymore. 

Zen and the art of... Bee Keeping??

Working with bees is oddly calming.

The first time I went to an apiary was when I shadowed another volunteer while I was still a trainee (refer back to ‘Boas, Bees and Babies’) and it was on the terrifying side. Having hundreds of stingers buzzing around your body can definitely bring up your anxiety, but it didn't keep me from wanting to work with them. At our second workshop we had a hands on demonstration and a bee flew into my ear and stung me, but that still didn't keep me from wanting to work with them. When you work in an apiary you will smash some bees and you will get stung, just accept it and go on.

Currently we have 11 hives with 10 to 15 frames in each and they’re all growing strong now that flowers are blossoming. One hive lost the queen and has created a new one. One hive is super productive, and super wild and aggressive. Some hives are growing slowly. Some hives are very neat and calm.  Others are building wax beyond the frames and connecting or making clumps. They are all the same type of bee, living in the same apiary, having access to the same blossoms, but each hive body has its own personality and level of productivity.

Every week I go out there I learn more. Knowing when and where to move frames. Understanding why some cells are capped or why some are different colors. How to spot larvae that are only a few days old compared to larvae that are close to maturity.  How to tell the difference between a worker (female), a drone (male) and Queen Bee. Spotting a queen bee in a hive is like spotting Waldo in a super hard game of Where’s Waldo, but when you do and you see that she’s healthy it’s very reassuring.

Bees are very intelligent creatures and they pick up and react easily to scent and energy. It’s very important for you not to have strong body odor when you go to the apiary and it’s also very important for you to keep calm when you are around the bees. If you are frantic then the bees will pick that up as a threat and will attack you. If you are not covered then it wouldn't be surprising if they went up your nose or in your ear to terrify you. Trust me, it’s scary having a bee buzzing around inside your ear.

You can learn a lot from bees. They are fascinating creatures; so small, yet so important to the entire life web. When you are around a large amount of them they can trigger terror or create calm. Have you ever watched a bee die after it has stung you? It’s a slow and seemingly agonizing death (if a bee can feel agony). It reminds me of those samurai stories where the samurai will take his own life to protect his honor. A bee simply wants to produce more honey or produce more bees and live in harmony with life around it, but she will take her own life if it’s to protect her honor.

… a little too anthropomorphic? 

One of those days

I have started and scrapped at least 4 blog entries since the last time I wrote. I am more comfortable and my days are becoming more normal. I want to put up pictures of projects, but thatwill come later when I have internet on a computer.

When I first got my invitation to Jamaica, when I first landed, when I first got to site I had huge doubts as to what I was doing. I had several "I have made a huge mistake" moments. I know that even though I don't feel like that right now that I will continue to have moments like that in my service, but now I have days like today to look back on and remember why I'm doing this. I started an envionmental club at the primary school at the beginning of the school year and a couple weeks ago one of the teachers got an email inviting the school into an island wide competition for environmental clubs. This makes my work so much easier now that there is an incentive. The group heading the competition came today to check out the school and drop off trees and after talking for a while the man said "you're lucky to have her" and the teacher and principal said "yes we are." It could have just been in the excitement of the moment, but it was niceand it made me feel welcome here. I will have days where I will have doubts and might want to leave but today I had a "this is where I am supposed to be"moment.

For the competition we have an art part of it and we get extra points for coming up with something unique. It has to go along with the theme of the environment and the three r's. I was thinking of doing a hanging garden using plastic bottles and making origami cranes out of old posters. Any ideas on something to add or anything completely different? We have a few months to work on it. Leave ideas in the comments or email me. This isn't cheating, it's using my resources. We're going to win.

Little piggies

July 7^th

DISCLAIMER: If you are squeamish about blood and guts do not continue with this blog. Seriously.

Today I got to witness a pig get killed and butchered. I have never seen anything like this before. I’m from Southern California. I’m pretty sure that some of my friends back home have never even seen a pig in real life and don’t  know that they have long bristly hair and make horrible death squeals (when no one is even bothering them).

 I’m in the environment sector, with a title like “agroforestry director of planning and planting” … or something like that (not really). I never got around to remembering because it really doesn’t matter. Anyway, a lot of my friends in the group have experience on farms and some of them have raised, killed and butchered animals. Not me. My mom brought home a baby chick one day (I don’t really know what she was thinking). I placed it on my cat so that it could ride him like a horse. That didn’t happen. I bawled. I had a funeral. Cats and dogs? Ya, I can do that. Chickens and pigs? wahhhh?? Looking back on that I wonder what my mom would have done when the chick started getting bigger. There was barely space for the cat. I think she didn’t think things through, like me with the chick, but I was 10. What was her excuse for creating a scarring moment in her child’s life? Ha, nah just kidding. I’m fine, Ma.

Now, back to the reason why I started this very special entry. I’ve skipped the kindle this time and have had to come to an internet café just to make sure you all can see the pictures.

As I walked to the kitchen to pour myself some cereal for breakfast someone yelled to me to put on my slippers and come to the killing bed. Oh, and to bring my camera. Wait. No, that can’t be right. “wait, wahh? To where, now?” I didn’t think I was hearing right. I put on my sandals, grabbed my camera and went to the backyard where the men were tying up the pig to pull it to a tree.

Let me just say, I’m not putting up these pictures and telling you this story to gross you out (well maybe a tiny bit) or for you to think that I am some horrible person that takes pleasure in the suffering and killing of animals. Where do you think your meat came from? Those factory farms are not nearly as nice as this. And the suffering of those animals goes on a lot longer than the few moments this pig felt before it got knocked out. And don’t forget the human and environmental suffering as well. (Rant over). I’m showing and telling because it was a really interesting experience and I thought that’s what you all wanted to hear!

I’m going to skip the killing part now that I look at the pictures. Someone else took pictures of that part. I couldn’t even watch. But there was an ax, squealing, a knife and loads of blood. This blood here:

It’s like from a horror movie.

They scraped off the hair

And hung it up

Innards. I decided to skip the pictures of the guts spewing out from within because maybe they are little graphic for some.

Two halves of a whole.

I really wanted to show more but then I realized that maybe it was a little too much blood and guts. You get the picture anyway. These men worked quickly and skillfully. It was amazing to see the butcher put his knife in just the right spot to drain the blood and not damage anything.  I thought it was going to be more gruesome but after the killing it was really interesting to watch them work. I told a friend of mine about how I was watching this being done and he said something like “it makes you not want to eat pork anymore right?” But it’s the opposite. I haven’t eaten pork in a really long time but if I knew that the pig was raised and killed like this than I have no problem with it.

Alright so on a lighter note; at my group meeting tonight they had a game where the kids had to find bible verses and since I forgot my bible :/ I sat and doodled and I came up with this poem to share with you:

See the wind make things go

Not unlike the rain makes things grow

Let’s go

Let’s grow

Let’s become more, more, more

Lizard Food

Jamaicans are afraid of lizards. I should say, most Jamaicans that I have met are afraid of lizards. My host family in Woodford left a lizard who got stuck in the kerosene lamp for an entire day before they decided to ask me to take it out. Then freaked out when I pushed it out with my hand. I was sitting on tha veranda,where I currently live, watching a lizard walk across a pile of magazines when my host sister went to grab one, freaked out and slammed the magazine in her hand down on it. Tiny guts everywhere. My host family won't let me leave my window open at night, I'm guessing because of the lizards and not the fear of someone breaking in. There is a gate surrounding the yard that is locked, 3 dogs, a light right outside my window, metal bars that cover the entire window and the window I want to leave open is slated. There is a chance someone could get through all that and grab stuff through the slats with a coat hanger, apparently that has happened to a pcv before, but my guess is that it's the lizards and mosquitoes that they are more worried about. Last night my door leading to the veranda got slammed shut and there was yelling. When my door opened again I went out to ask what happened. "There was a lizard" "You're not scared of lizards?" "She's not scared of them" If there was a giant kimodo dragon climbing on my wall I'd probably freak out a little. First, because how is it even staying on that wall and second because they look like baby dinosaurs. Actually, I'dbe more afraid of finding an ostrich on my wall. Seriously, have you seen one of those up close, behind a 2 foot wall that it could easily jump over? Anyway, back to the lizards. They are pretty lizards, anywhere from brown to bright green. They stop and do push ups and stick out their bright orange neck skin. Harmless lizards that just want to lay in the sun and eat bugs. I tell people people who are amazed by my attitude towards lizards (I do feel like hero when I shoo those little creatures away from someone, both for the screaming human and the lizard) that they eat the annoying mosquitoes and they are not going to bite you. Well they might if you try to catch one like I did when I was a kid and got the nickname "Lizard Food" for a while. I'm pretty sure that was a different kind of lizard though.
So anyway,don'tforget about me. Send me postcards and letters and I will return the favor : ) I will eventually figure out how to get letters here so it won't take forever to receive them.