UPDATE: Not an anaconda. Guyanese Oxymoron: "Little Anaconda"

UPDATE: I wrote this post thinking the snake I'd seen was a juvenile anaconda. Turns out it was an adult rainbow boa, which while beautiful is not an anaconda. Thanks to my old friend Ben Atkinson for the help identifying this little guy.

Scratch another item off my Guyana bucket list... last weekend I finally got to see an
anaconda rainbow boa. Though only 5ft and small by anaconda standards (adults have been caught in our area of lengths of up to 30 feet!!), it still counts.

In Guyana they call anacondas "camoodie"... which is a nice fact, but this snake is a rainbow boa.

 Everyone in Mabaruma knows I've been itching to see one since I've been here. A buddy of mine, Terry, has insane stories about anacondas he's seen and helped catch. Once while on his way home he saw a log that someone had laid across the road. When he finally got close enough to inspect the log he discovered to his surprise that it was in fact a 20 ft anaconda that was crossing from trench to trench.

Another story he tells is when he and some other guys caught a huge one (30 ft) up at the river head. A snake that long would easily be about as thick as a medium size tree trunk. Hoping to get it back to market where they'd have a chance to sell it for a significant profit if alive, they were able to tie it up and get it in the boat. Unfortunately, once inside the boat the snake decided it had had enough and began to thrash around, eventually shaking the boat to pieces. Worse, now the men were stranded at the river head, which is 2 hours from the nearest village, clinging to the banks of a river where the know they've just loosed a huge angry snake into black murky water. J Lo and Ice Cube eat your hearts out. Hours later, a man paddling by on his canoe was able to send for help. 

My story isn't that badass, but I did have to wade through thigh deep water to get to the snake. I had no idea these snakes had iridescent skin. 

Iridescent skin glimmers in the sunlight... hence the name, Rainboa Boa.

Terry and the

anacondita

 rainbow boa.

Thanks to my buddy Terry for remembering that I wanted to see one and for catching it when it was found in a chicken coup during his sister's wedding. Cool guy. For those of you coming to visit us, he's offered to take us on a little trip to his uncle's house who makes traditional bows and arrows... then goes hunting with them.

This man took it, thought about selling it, but then released it by the bridge pictured here because it was too small.

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Rodeo...Rodeo..RO-DE-OOO!!!!

When we first arrived in Guyana, we heard about this pretty awesome three-day event on the border of Brazil called Rodeo. The trip consisted of a 15-hr bus ride to the south-west part of Guyana to see Brazilian and Amerindian barefoot cowboys ride bareback bulls and horses, while feasting on meat on a stick and drinking Brazils famous Caipirinhas. You can imagine how quickly we decided that this adventure would definitely make it onto our bucket list while in Guyana. And here we are a year later and can report back that the hype was spot on, because Rodeo was unlike anything I have ever experienced before.

We started our trip two-days before the first kick-off event which was to occur on Friday night. Together with 11 other Peace Corps volunteers and about 20 other Guyanese, we jumped onto two buses at 8:00pm Thursday night to head out on our 15-hr bus ride. Unfortunately what was supposed to be 15-hrs turned into 20-hrs because we got stuck in the mud twice and had to be pulled out by a truck and our bus couldn’t go up a steep hill due to the weight, which meant we had to get out of the bus in the wee hours of the morning to walk alongside the bus in the middle of the jungle. Mind you there is no road; it’s just a dirt path. About two hours before our arrival in Lethem we stopped in the village of Annai and got our first taste of Brazilian meat and some Suriname beer. We ate our first of many servings of Calabrese sausage cooked in a typical Brazilian churrasco barbecue.

"These are ant hills!"

We finally arrived at our hostel, the Savannah Inn, at around 6pm on Friday, quickly showered and began our nightly festivities. But before we headed to the pageant, which was the kick-off event, we first had some dinner and ate some of the most incredible Brazilian pizza. Who knew Brazil was not only known for its meat, but its pizza too. Unfortunately, the pageant got rained out, but nevertheless we got to socialize with other volunteers and Guyanese friends in a cool outdoor bar.

"Brazilian Big-Boy Beers"

Saturday morning, we woke up and started our day with Bloody Marys that we packed with us all the way from Georgetown- can’t start a weekend in the sun without some Bloody Marys first. Before heading to the grounds we walked around Lethem and did some window shopping, which felt almost surreal, because I can’t remember the last time I went shopping in an actual store (we even tried on clothes!) Lethem looks and feels very different than our site. I am sure it has a lot to do with the proximity of Brazil, which is only a 30 minute drive. Lethem is mostly savannah with some of the oldest mountains in the backdrop. It feels like the Wild West, everyone drives a truck or rides a horse, and wears a cowboy hat and most people speak Portuguese. As you walk around you can almost hear the theme song of the “The Good, the Bad and the Ugly” playing in your head. A little after lunch we headed to the grounds for our first taste of rodeo.

"The backdrop of Lethem. Doesn't it look like the Wild West"

"People traveling in Lethem"

"This was the Brazo hunk of the Rodeo."

"Barefoot Vaquero"

We arrived to what looked like a state fair ground with a large rodeo arena where all the riding occurred. The events that took place throughout the two days consisted of bareback bronco riding, saddle bronco riding, bareback bull riding, saddle bull riding, bull roping, greased pig catching, (which we missed) and a watermelon eating competition. All the cowboys or “vaqueros” which is Spanish for livestock herder, as they were called were mostly barefoot when doing all their riding, which I am told is way harder to do. Even though we are in Guyana and close to Brazil all the music they played throughout the day was American country, which I found pretty funny. And not only was it American country, but they played the same 6 songs on loop. Normally this would have gotten on my nerves, but because we were having so much fun it was actually nice to able to sing along to all of the songs.

"Getting ready to ride."

"She was our absolute favorite. Aren't her boots so cute?"

Rodeo finished each day at around 6pm and then the night time fair-atmosphere would erupt. There were all sorts of fair games and bounce houses, cotton candy, and a huge dance party, which Nate and I partook on each night.

But wait I haven’t spoken about the food…oh the food! How I miss thee. Nate and I ate our body weight in meat on a stick in a matter of two days. We had T-bone on a stick, ribs on a stick, chicken on a stick, sausage on a stick and the list goes on. With every portion of meat we also ate farihna, which is powdered cassava that is made into flour that is normally used as a seasoning like salt and pepper. But at the grounds they would add other seasonings to it and put in a cup for you to eat as is. Surprisingly, it was delicious. If you got lucky, some stalls would have farihna that would be sautéed and pieces of dried meat, like beef jerky, would be mixed in. Needless, to say I ate so many cups of this that I made myself sick. To wash down all these delectable meals, which we had probably 6 a day of, we drank Brazilian beer and like I mentioned before Caipirinhas, which is Brazil's national cocktail, made with cachaça, which is sugar cane rum, sugar and lime. I even got to practice my Portuguese, which well…wasn’t great. But I was able to order food and communicate most of what I needed and wanted and was even able to throw in a few jokes. To make an awesome weekend even awesomer, we got to meet the president of Guyana and take a picture with Mr. Ramotar. Nate was psyched about this, as this was one other thing on his bucket list. Big weekend for our bucket list…huh?

"T-bone on a stick!"

"Nate made friends with the Portuguese women selling meat on a stick. Classic Nate."

"Nate bringing me Caipirinhas. What a beautiful man!"

"President Ramotar"

So now a few days later, after recuperating I can say that the 20-hr bus ride was absolutely worth it, though on the way back the 18-hr bus ride back seemed a little less worth it. Funny how that always happens.

Till next time.

From a Woman's Perspective

Over the last year we have portrayed our experience in Peace Corps and Guyana in a very positive light. We have done this because we are truly enjoying our time in Peace Corps and in our new home of Guyana. But that is not to say that we haven’t dealt with some real issues while here, both related to the difference in culture and that Guyana, even with all its splendour and charm, is a developing country, especially in the hinterland regions like where we live. A few weeks ago, I posted a blog from another Peace Corps volunteer that gave a more accurate portrayal of what daily life is really like. This inspired Nate and I to discuss why we haven’t been more real on our blog and we came up with a few reasons: one- we don’t want to give a negative impression of Guyana, two-we really love our community, and three- we chose to come to Peace Corps, no one forced us. So we didn’t want our blog to be a nit-picking, negative-Nancy forum. But on that same note we do want to share some of our frustrations and discuss some real issues that are not necessarily specific to Guyana, but to the developing world and what we have learned. So if you know me, the topic of my first real-issue blog post won’t surprise you. Yup…you guessed it women and the developing nation. Now I promise you I won’t rant and rave for what might seem like hours, because once you open that can of worms, well let’s just say I hope you have some time. I will try and be concise and objective with my thoughts and give just a few real life stories. Also, what I am going to say here is not going to surprise you and it is certainly not new. Many other organizations, books, non-profits have not only discussed this issue, but are currently working to improve the problem. So here it goes.

When first preparing to come to Guyana, Peace Corps told us that we needed to mentally prepare ourselves for the differences in gender roles, especially if we were placed in a remote location. They explained that it would be taboo for Nate to help in household chores, that men ONLY were allowed to partake in drinking and enjoying leisure time outside of the home, and that people would expect me to have children and would probably consider us baron, due to my age. I thought to myself, “Yeah that will probably be hard, but I am mentally prepared for it, so I will just laugh it off.” Wrong! However, the reason it bothered me wasn’t because we were constantly considered strange, but because those gender roles stem from a place so much deeper than just what each gender is supposed to do but how women are constantly treated and considered second-class citizens.

When we first arrived, people, mostly men, would reach across me to shake Nate’s hand and never make eye-contact with me. When asked to go on an outreach trip, the supervisor of the trip, who was usually a woman, would call Nate and ask for his permission for me to go. I would be considered loose if I went to a rum shop with Nate, don’t even think about me going alone-even if it is just to pick something up for a get-together, and when acknowledged at a rum-shop the person buying the drink would ask Nate if I could have a beer, purchase the beer hand it to him for it to be handed to me. Women are not to speak up and when boisterous, like myself, would be asked to please quiet down because I am “too loud,”- true story.

Most women in our site do not aspire to be more than just a housewife with a primary education. Few complete a secondary education (high-school) and even fewer attend university. And it is absolutely right that there is a correlation between women and education and the size and economic status of their families. A small family is usually comprised of six children, while the largest family I have ever seen was 19 children. When I interview women at the antenatal (or prenatal as it’s called in the States) clinic who has a large family, 4 out of five times they do not know how to write or read and often times the children come from different men. Their main and only duties are those of household duties and many of times the family has very little means to buy food, not because the father doesn’t have a job or doesn’t make money, but because the money is spent quickly on superfluous material goods, such as a TV or generator to play music, that he chooses, or on alcohol (which is the most common expense for men). Often times I try and convince women on choosing family planning when they express to me the difficulty of maintaining their family. But more often than not, they do not choose a family planning option or don’t stick with it, because partners do not allow it, mostly because it gets in the way of producing a large family. Of course there are exceptions, but those women are usually educated and are in a more egalitarian household. But at the end of the day, a woman’s worth is directly correlated with how many children she has.

Now, I am only speaking for remote communities. I do not work in the capital of Guyana, Georgetown, and do not know if it is different, but my little observation says that families are smaller, and that woman are becoming more educated and in higher position. But it is still very common and normal to see a 19 year-old having her first or second baby.

When I am asked why I don’t have children and I explain that I am on family planning and waiting until I am financially well-off, and mentally prepared to embark on the beautiful journey of mother-hood, I just get starred at like I am a bit crazy.

On a daily basis, these types of conversations anger me, bring me down and discourage me. I often want to shake these women and men, and say two different things. Women- “you are strong, capable and your self-worth is not calculated in the number of children. GET EDUCATED, speak to your partner, asked to be included in decisions, and if not find another man that will. Come together and SPEAK UP.” Men- “you all have a mother, so respect your partners, include her in decisions, take women’s opinions and educate your daughters!”

It saddens me when I work with youth and the same standards are being passed onto them. Girls don’t speak up in class, and the ones that do are the promiscuous ones (or so they say), they normally have not thought of doing anything other than getting pregnant (usually at the age of 16-17) with their lives and when I encourage them to think outside of the norm, they laugh. Boys speak up, and nonchalantly express that they want a girl who will give them “plenty babies” and when I encourage them to be more egalitarian, well…they laugh and hit on me.

I will continue to be the outlier here and try in the most culturally appropriate way to show that women are equal. And Nate well…he will continue to wash clothes in front of everyone, despite the harassing and laughing, will continue to ask men and others to acknowledge my presence and will always respond “you can ask Ilana that directly, she is very knowledgeable” or “I will need to discuss that with my wife, we make all decisions together.”

Till next time.

The Party Continues

Ready, duck face and all.

About 2 weeks ago we celebrated the 9^th anniversary of my 21^st birthday (i.e. my 30^th birthday). Hard to believe that my 20s are over!

This year was way more fun than last year’s birthday, which came right on the heels of Ilana’s emergency appendectomy and moving for the 5^th time in 2 months. This year Ilana, my personal event planner, diviner of awesome, duchess of details, and partner extraordinaire... planned the pants off this party and one of the best parts was how little I had to do because she outsourced so much of the work. That might sound funny, but here everything has to be done by hand and from scratch. 

Back home in the States you might just go to the mall and grocery store and get the food, a gift, a card, party supplies, a cake and viola... you have a party. Down here we have to be a bit more creative with how we celebrate special occasions. For example it took 7 days of searching to find 10 pounds of chicken.  I don’t think anyone is better at making a special occasion from scratch than Ilana. Thanks baby.

Also, thank you to everyone who came and made my 30^th such a special event.  I’d like to wish a special thanks to my in-laws Edda and José for smuggling in those party decorations 2 months ago; Harmony and Travis for making super decadent chocolate-chocolate cupcakes, Lizzy and Suzy for making chocolate-iced old-fashioned doughnuts, Duch for the stogie, Emily for the booze, and Kristin for the devilled eggs.

1 VSO + 2 World Teach + 2 Project Trust + 7 Peace Corps= KARAOKE

Thirty got me thinking a little bit, and since I have the time, I made a summary of all the things I’ve learned in my first 30 years.

0-5:

-Everything has its place. Food goes in the mouth, poop goes in the potty, crayons go on the paper, and little brothers go in a half-Nelson.

-If you’re nice to other people, other people will be nice to you.

-Rules should always be followed. Adults are masters of the universe, never make mistakes, and all have my best interest in mind. I better listen to them.

5-10:

-Other people have needs and wants other than me. I should treat my brother well because he’s the only one I’ve got.

-Some people will say one thing and do another.

-Teacher’s don’t live in their classrooms.

-My parents have my back.

-Girls are more interesting than annoying, but not by much.

10-15:

-I’d really like to be cool and the best way to do that is to be like everyone else.

-Adults make mistakes too. What’s important is always try to do the right thing and admitting when you don’t.

-If I do well in school I’ll get a good SAT score, go to a good college, get a good job, and live happily ever after.

-It’s annoying how my parents always seem to know exactly what to do.

 -I’m apparently more interested in girls than they’re interested in me. Older guys seem to be more appealing to them. Perhaps it’s because they wear deodorant... look into deodorant.

15-20:

-It’s not always easy to tell the right thing from the wrong thing.

-I’m basically an adult, so why won’t anyone take me seriously.

-I got into a good college.... but I have no idea what I want to be when I grow up.

-I know my parents have my back, but I’m pretty sure I’ve got everything figured out.

-Girls are awesome but distracting. Deodorant helps get your foot in the door, but there seems to be a lot of talking on the other side of the door once you’re in.

20-25:

-Many mistakes later, the right thing usually seems to be the hardest option.

-I’m not sure what I want to do forever, but this job seems like a good start.

- I’d like to be cool and the best way to do that is not to be like anybody else.

-Shit, I’m an adult. Maybe I should take something seriously.

- I’m better at being in a relationship when I’m better at being myself.

25-30:

-I learn a lot more from being wrong than from being right.

-Valuable doesn’t mean it costs a lot of money.

-The best friends are the ones who challenge you to be better.

-Hoping doesn’t accomplish anything. Planning is a much better strategy.

-Damn I cost my parent’s a shit-load of money!!!

- Wow! She is awesome. I need to be the best version of myself to keep this one around.

Can anyone give tell me what I’m likely to learn in the next 30 years?

Clearly also learned not to take anything too seriously.

The Real Peace Corps

Below is a blog post by another volunteer currently serving in Ethiopia. His blog post on what its really like to be in Peace Corps is so eerily spot on yet inspiring that I wanted to re-post it here. I could not express this any better, even if I tried. Enjoy.

His blog can be found here.

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I feel as though I’ve done somewhat of a disservice throughout this blog. I’ve painted a picture of my time here that isn’t precisely accurate. I’m an emotional person, romantic, optimistic to a fault. I like extremes and superlatives. I exaggerate in an attempt to draw the reader in, and to make sense of things I can’t make sense of.

I romanticize this experience as a function of my personality but also as a coping mechanism. Peace Corps is really hard.

So I want to write about the real Ethiopia. And the real Peace Corps experience. That way, if a future volunteer reads this, they understand what to expect, and won’t hate me for only showing sunset pictures and kids holding hands.

So what should you expect?

Nothing is the best answer. Expect nothing and you will be pleasantly surprised. Every experience is different. My friend Jon lives 80 miles away. Our lives could not be more different. His house has no floor save for the mud it was built on. He is lucky to have power one day out of the week. My sitemate Dave lives 200 meters from my house and our experiences are entirely different.

So here are some observations, a look into what I do, and an idea of what your potential service will look like.

Peace Corps is defined by a strange dichotomy. Freedom and containment. I wake up every day with a blank slate. I can do anything. I can do nothing. And while the possibilities are only limited by my own imagination, the ability to do as I please is corrupted by a number of social, political, and cultural practices.

Case in point: Most volunteers assume they will run to let off steam in their new country. However, running here is a cause of stress more so than a release. You get stared at as a foreigner here. These are stares that know no shame. Stares that you can feel without seeing. They are honest and curious stares, but can crack even the kindest of spirits. But a foreigner in shorts? Running? That is unheard of. Running here means being followed by hordes of children, the last thing you need when trying to let off steam.

I want to export coffee to benefit local farmers and provide an organic alternative to the Starbucks mess we have back home. The bureaucratic structure here has destroyed those dreams. Disappointment is part of the PC experience.

Doing something like the Peace Corps will be your lowest of lows and your highest of highs. Highs that shatter your previous world views. You will feel refreshed, walk in a forest and quote Thoreau. The lows can last so long that you need a fleeting moment of existentialism just to make it through the rainy season. Well, that, and a ton of movies. You will consider going home. You will count down the days until you leave. You will count up from the day you arrived.

“I can’t believe we’ve been here for a year.”

“I can’t believe we’ll be here another year!”

You will understand yourself, question yourself. Compare where you came from to where you are. I have days when I miss America. I have days when I loathe it. Why do people care about Charlie Sheen and Amy Winehouse? How many marines died last week? How many kids in the horn of Africa died of hunger? I can’t even imagine dying of hunger. When I’m hungry, I eat.

But I eat strange food. Ethiopian food is unlike anything else in the world. Sometimes it is delicious, but most times it is very mediocre. Other times, it is so incredibly bad that I consider burning down every plant that grows whatever the hell is in ‘gunfo’

Don’t try gunfo.

Universally, Peace Corps volunteers crave food. I have dreams about it. Vivid dreams where I belly flop into a bowl of ice cream off of a hot fudge brownie diving board. Sushi. I have a long distance relationship with Sushi and we are not communicating well.

As volunteers, we love to complain. We joke about our poop and our pooping locations. We laugh about smelling bad.

We smell bad.

We yearn for hot showers. But I think it’s just for show. Any volunteer, more so than food or showers, miss people and places. You will miss friends and seasons. During your service, you will be alone on the Fourth of July, Halloween, Thanksgiving. You will miss your family, your really hot girlfriend, and the contextual clues you associate with fond memories. I know what the Chesapeake bay feels like on thanksgiving. I can feel the football, and taste the sweet potato pie. I know what Glebe Park looks like, the green asphalt and the smell of cut grass.

You will be stared at 24/7 365. I understand what it’s like to be a good-looking girl at a frat party. Stay strong ladies.

You will develop an eerie sense of calm. I’ve spent 75 hours in the last two weeks on a bus. The DMV will be a breeze now. I’ve found new and embarrassing ways to entertain myself. I could watch paint dry and be perfectly happy.

One of the great things about Peace Corps is you have a massive amount of time to become a better person. The best advice I can give is to try and do something everyday to improve upon yourself. For some people this is writing or reading. For others it is teaching English or working out. Learn an instrument or paint. Do whatever works for you, but know this: You will stare at the wall. I stare at the wall a lot. I’ve had every thought someone can have. Probably twice.

Transportation completely sucks.

I just got out of a bus with 12 seats on it. There were 25 people on it. There were two chickens and probably 20 kilo’s of rancid butter. Here’s a quck letter:

Dear Ethiopia,

It’s ok to open the windows on the bus. I promise you won’t die from the wind. I promise it’s not that cold. Currently, sweat is running down my lower back and into the danger zone. My sweat is sweating. Fresh air is nothing to be scared of. Tuberculosis is. As much as I like saunas and the smell of chicken feces, can we please crack the window’s for 2 minutes? I will love you forever.

Yours truly,

Michael

There is no average day.

Last week, my Tuesday was crazy. I had a meeting with the tourism office about making them a website. I taught a man how to make guacemole and tortillas which he will sell in his store. I played basketball, added a layer to a clay oven and worked on the newsletter I am writing for Peace Corps.

The next day? I slept in, watched a silly amount of the show ‘Dexter’ and checked my fantasy baseball team while the internet was up. Yeah, I’m cool.

There will be times when, despite your pictures of you hugging little kids, you just want to tackle one of them and scream, my name is NOT,

“you you you!!!!!, give me money!!!!!!”

In America we ask for the time. Here, we ask for the month. It’s the most obvious difference. The pace of life here is slow, methodical, cyclical. Everything takes a long time. If you aren’t a patient person you will become one.

Life here is completely different. It is another world, lost in space and time. It is hard, and the little annoyances can manifest themselves into a black cloud. They certainly will, but it is important to make note of the small victories and the little moments. When I open my eyes I am reminded of why I am here. Just when I think a kid is running up to me to ask me for money, she tells me that she loves me and blows a kiss. But then I get on a bus and start crying. I’m stuck in the middle of nowhere with a busted engine. It’s getting dark, I have a chicken in my lap and personal space at this point is a distant memory. People are yelling into their cell phones, begging me to speak to them and take them to America. Oh and the only food in the town by the road is Gunfo.

Remember in times like this to take a deep breath. Peace Corps really is a roller coaster. An exhilarating and scary ride that completely sucks and totally kicks ass.

And when you are feeling down, just remember to go outside and let Africa save you.

By: Michael Waidmann

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Till next time.