Endings

I think this is going to be a long post, so buckle up and let's get to it.

I came to the city on March 26th. But first, I turned twenty-six in the jungle. Friends came to celebrate and we had a great time. Thanks to Kyle, Jamie, Julie, and Jonathan for making my second and LAST birthday in the jungle so special. Twenty-six is going to be a rock n roll year. 

Holi Phagwa was celebrated on March 27th here in Suriname, and a lot of the Volunteers came to the city to take part in the celebration. Holi is a religious spring festival celebrated by Hindus. They believe it is a time to celebrate the colors and abundance of spring, and bid farewell to winter. It was basically a giant party with bands, food, beer, and colored powder. At least that's how we celebrated. It was great fun and I am so glad I experienced the party. Also, I now know what baby powder taste like. It tastes exactly like you think it does. 

SUR 17's Close of Service conference took place on April 3rd and 4th. During the conference we discussed lots of good stuff and information we need to close out our time in Suriname. We sat through lectures and sessions, and did a couple of reflective activities. One of the activities we did is called "Thirty-two Squares." We folded a piece of paper into thirty-two squares, and on each one we were asked to write an experience or event that really stands out when we think of our PC service. On the backs of those squares we were asked to write the emotions or qualities that we gained from those experiences, both professional and personal. 

These are a few of the events and experiences I wrote on my squares: Talking to Momma and Daddy the day I submitted my application to Peace Corps, receiving my invitation to serve in Suriname, starting this blog and the overwhelming support I received, moving to Malobi and calling it home, eating wild (and probably endangered) animals, falling in love with those precious twins I call mine, holding babies, English lessons with my friend, Polo, all of the sicknesses and discomfort two years in the jungle brings, runs through the jungle, hosting my parents in my home and realizing I speak another language, all those funny cultural exchanges, and those days I wanted to pack it all in and leave. 

These are the things I learned or was reminded of through those experiences: I am tough. I am courageous. I am accomplished. I am adaptable. I am thankful. I get scared. I get over it. I was always sure of my place here. I am loved so damn much. 

I was really excited throughout the entire conference. Some of it was emotional, but all of it was informative and useful. Now I begin the process of finishing up all my project reports and writing my DOS (description of service). Changes to a DOS have to be approved by a Country Director, and since my post is closing, and will not have a CD anymore, my DOS is the final say in what I did as a PCV. 

During our COS conference, Ambassador Anania hosted a reception to honor the Volunteers and our work in Suriname. It's always fun to hang out at an ambassador's house. 

On April 5, Peace Corps Suriname hosted our Legacy Event. The event was open to the public, and lots of high-ranking officials from Suriname were invited. The event had a huge turnout! It was so nice to have so many host country folks come out to honor and support the work PCVs have done in this gem of a country. The event included the official passing off of our work to the Ministry of Regional Development, speeches from Ambassador Anania and Suriname officials, as well as a documentary made by Kyle Smithers (the tall, skinny, white guy in my birthday pic up there). 

After the program, there was a reception to keep the mingle fest going. This event was probably a lot of folks last impression and interaction with Peace Corps and maybe even Americans. It was an honor to be a part of it. 

SUR 17s with Ambassador Anania and Acting Peace Corps Director of Global Operations, Carlos Torres

Acting Peace Corps Director of Global Operations, Carlos Torres

At the reception, I was talking to a few women from the U.S. Embassy. One of the ladies asked a great question, "You're not trying to impress anyone. You're not trying to recruit anyone or convince anyone to join the Peace Corps. Are you glad you did it?" My response was quick and simple. "Yes." I told her there were a lot of days that I had to make a conscious decision to stay, but that even on those tough days, even if someone had placed a plane ticket to Mississippi in my hands, I would have chosen to stay. I would have chosen to stay because even on those tough extremely hard I-don't-want-to-be-here-has-it-been-twenty-seven-months-yet days, I knew this is where I was meant to be. I was sure, even when it was hard, that Suriname was meant to be my home for this time. And I think that's how you know something is and was the right decision. Well, that mixed with a lot of struggle, hugs, and prayer. 

Nearing the end of my Peace Corps service is one of the strangest places I have ever been mentally and emotionally. I am so ready, and that makes it hard. But it's hard anyway. And I love people here, but I cannot stay here. I have to say goodbye to them. And not like, "Oh there's no such thing as goodbyes, it's only until next time." No. It's a goodbye like I've never said before. I may never see some of my villagers again. Knowing that and knowing I cannot stay is hard. I am mentally prepared to say that goodbye and cry for a long time tomorrow, so it makes having eighty-four (duh, I'm counting down) days left in Suriname hard. Some days I am so mentally over it, I can't stand it. And then I feel guilty for feeling that way, but then a villager makes me want to punch them, so I don't feel bad anymore. Some days I look at those precious little faces standing in the doorway of my jungle home, and I don't know what I'm going to do without seeing them when I want too. And I cry. And then because I'm crying I asked them to go play and come back later. And they don't, so I know exactly what I am going to do without them. And the village trouble maker kids come over and bully me. Okay maybe it's not bullying, but they won't do what I tell them to do. And that frustrates me to the point of tears on some occasions. I think I can consider it bullying if a twelve year old makes me cry. And they won't listen or go away, so I start to hate them. And then I feel guilty for that, because no one is suppose to hate children, especially not a Peace Corps Volunteer. And then literally within ten minutes, they're angels again and I'm crying for totally different reasons. It's exhausting. And because it's so exhausting, I feel guilty for not wanting to do anything. And then this whole accepting-that-what-I've-done-is-enough process begins. I question if it is, confirm in my head that it is, and then look up to find a naked baby running by my house yelling my name. Obviously at this point I start to cry again. Are you catching on to how insane I am at this point?

If you read all of that and you're still interested in my life, bless you. And know that you and your support are two of the reasons I have been and am still so sure about this completely insane, life-changing, marvelous journey. They are also two of the reasons I cannot wait for the next adventure, because I know I'm ready. 

A Vistor's Thoughts

A while back, John's brother came to visit. Recently he wrote a blog post for John's blog describing his trip and some of the initial impressions and feelings he had as a visitor to the jungle. I thought it was such a neat way to document a trip and share his experiences with those folks who have been keeping up with the PCV perspective through John's blog for two years. I thought some of my readers would enjoy it as well. You can click here to read the post.

I've linked y'all to John's blog before, and again I apologize if it's better than mine. You're welcome to read it, but just know that John is only almost as cool as I am in real life.

Quick Trip. Quick Post.

I have been in the city for the past week "on medical" as we say in the Peace Corps. I had a really nasty allergic reaction. I think sunflower oil is the culprit. Benedryl was not clearing it up, so Doc told me to come to the city. He agreed when I asked him if we could just give it one more day. It's a long trip, and I had only been back at site for a week. I didn't want to come to the city. Not yet. I changed my mind when I woke up at one o'clock in the morning with my joints aching from the swelling. I decided I had to go in. I could see and feel welts all over my body and I was itching like crazy. I had a terrible fever, and my knuckles were undetectable because my hands were so swollen. This was turning out to be something really sexy. So, I arrived in the city and finally saw my reflection. Eeeek. It was bad. Doc gave me a shot and lots of medicine. I am feeling and looking so much better. I am going back to site tomorrow. Julie and I are holding a World Aids Day event on Sunday, so I'm ready to get back. And yes, World Aids Day is December 1, but we're doing it now.

I will only be back at site for about three weeks. As I mentioned in my last post, SUR 17's COS conference is in early April. We'll all gather in the city, have some fun, and get the low down on all the things we must complete to successfully close our service as PCVs. The fact that our COS conference is so close is still sinking in. I remember so clearly preparing to leave America and begin this journey. In a few weeks I will officially begin preparing for the next one.

But first, I have got to get back to the jungle. After World Aids Day, Julie and I are implementing another project. We're going to have a week of field days at the school. We're going to play fun games with the students, and throw some lessons in there. Basic life skills. Teamwork. Commitment. Really good stuff like that. I think I've mentioned her before, but just in case, Julie and I share a school and clinic. We're about a forty-five minute walk away from each other, so we work together a lot.

I am going to celebrate another birthday in the jungle. Twenty-six. Julie already bought the funfetti cake and frosting. Those Pillsbury box cake mixes bake up so deliciously in a Dutch oven, y'all. Seriously.

Peace. Love. Thanks.

The Recent Peaces

Here's what's been happening, y'all-

I came to the city on February 1 to take the Foreign Service Exam. I have never taken a test with zero expectations. I did just that with this test. I'm not even sure I want to work for the FS, but the test was offered and it was free, so I took it. I will have the results in a couple of weeks. I don't know if I passed it, but I don't think I bombed it. I knew a couple of things.

Since I've been in, I've had meetings for the two committees I'm on. The PEPFAR (President's Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief) team is working to compile a portfolio of all the HIV/AIDS projects Peace Corps Volunteers have implemented in Suriname since 2010. Our hope is that when Peace Corps Suriname closes in July, local organizations will take over some of those projects and keep the good work going. PCVs in Suriname have done such great work in this area, and have some great ideas that are both culturally appropriate and effective. We want them all to continue.

And speaking of HIV/AIDS projects, I just finished one. During January, Julie and I implemented a curriculum geared toward sixth grade students. The program covers everything from transmission/non-transmission, the biology of HIV and when it becomes AIDS, as well as stigma and discrimination reduction. The kit includes a manual in Dutch, so that the teachers can continue with the program every year. In a PCV's perfect world, that would happen. The sixth grade teacher we worked with was less than enthusiastic and didn't really help us at all. It was frustrating at times to be doing the work that we wanted the teacher to do. It's hard to get the teachers excited about extra work. Nevertheless, Julie and I facilitated the lessons and the kids learned a lot. I was actually really surprised and excited about how much the kids knew all ready. I give that credit to all of those youth leadership camps we held months ago. In the end, I think the project went as well as it could have. The goal was for the kids to learn the facts and how to protect themselves, and I know they did.

The final lesson involved the kids making posters to educate others on the facts of HIV and how to protect themselves. I had the posters enlarged and laminated. Julie and I are going to hang them at the school and in the stores in our villages.

Drawing a picture about the importance of getting tested for HIV

Julie being a Peace Corps Volunteer

Showing off their certificates and red ribbons.

Julie is behind the camera not telling me she's taking the picture. 

I was happier than that to be there. 

On February 8, I traveled to Albina to visit Michelle's site. Albina is an Amerindian site, so it's very different from my life in Saramacca. I gathered that Amerindians are a way more quiet culture than Saramaccans. Albina is on the Marowijne river, the border between Suriname and French Guiana, so of course we hopped across the border for the day to enjoy delicious pastries and cafe au lait in St. Laurent. And by "hopped across the border," I mean we took a boat across the river and went into French Guiana totally legally and with permission.

Michelle's house. That's Michelle in the middle. 

This street made me think of New Orleans

Strolling through the market

French Guiana was once a penal colony, this is the entrance to the prison

Inside the prison. The buildings are now used for festivals and theater events.

Vietnamese food court

Vietnamese pho and an egg roll was not a bad lunch.

I had a great visit with friends at Michelle's site. French Guiana was a nice treat, and the food was wonderful. I took all of my Euro change back to the bakery before we left. I bought four pan au chocolat, a quiche, and an apple pie thing. I think we left the country with roughly seven baguettes. All of it was eaten. Success. 

I left Albina on Monday morning and returned to the city around noon. I jumped on Facebook as soon as I returned to the office, as I always do when I have internet access. This is the first thing I saw...

I cried. Without knowing what happened, but knowing it was something bad, I cried. I knot formed in my stomach and I was almost scared to find out what it was. After browsing Facebook, I found out it was a tornado. A tornado hurt Hattiesburg and my Southern Miss. I immediately thought of my brother, my friends, and my parents. My mom is in grad school, she had class over the weekend. Were she and my dad still in town? My brother lives in Hattiesburg. Did the tornado come close to his house? So many friends are still in Hattiesburg. They live all over the city. What was the tornado's path? Were they all okay? I was scared to call my mom. It's always hard being so far away and not knowing what's going on back home. That's even harder when tragedy is involved. I called my mom. She answered. They were all okay. Andy's house and neighbor's houses have some damage, but he was out of town for the night, and not at home when the tornado hit. I let out that breath I was holding. I eventually found out that no one was killed in the storm. That's a miracle, y'all. 

Maybe it seems silly to some folks that a picture of a rock, broken trees, and a street filled with debris evoked such emotion in me. And if it seems silly to you, you didn't attend the University of Southern Mississippi. Yeah, that's my alma mater. I have a piece of paper that says so. It's so much more than that though. Southern Miss is my home. My parents went to Southern Miss, and regardless of how much they wanted me to believe the decision of which college I attended was mine, they wanted more for me to believe that Southern Miss was the best place for me. My mom was a Chi Omega at Southern Miss. Going through sorority recruitment was not an option. She told me the choice of joining a chapter was mine. My dad's words were different. "You don't come home if you're not a Chi Omega at the end of the week." I didn't and I was. At Southern Miss. Six weeks into my freshman year, I told my parents I was going to study in France the next spring. Because of Southern Miss. I know without a doubt that I would not be a Peace Corps Volunteer had I not spent a semester in France. I wouldn't be a Peace Corps Volunteer without Southern Miss. With the exception of about three people, my best friends were given to me by Southern Miss and Chi O. I wouldn't have the support I need to be in the Peace Corps without Southern Miss. My heart and life were changed by Southern Miss. So, yeah, a picture of a rock, broken trees, and street filled with debris was hard to see. 

I love this picture of students helping clean up our campus. 

"...so lift your voices high, show them the reason why that Southern spirit never dies. Fight. Fight. Fight."

When the day and the tornado are over, buildings will be rebuilt. Spirits will be lifted, and Southern Miss will be okay. After all, it's not the buildings that changed my life. It was the people, the soul, and the traditions. Those things are all still in tact. And because of that, Southern Miss will continue to climb to the top. And in a few months, I'll be there to see it. 

My state never ceases to amaze me, whether it be for the good or bad. I have seen so many pictures and newspaper articles in the past few days of folks coming together to help in whatever ways they're needed. In times like this, I am reminded of why I love Mississippi and why I couldn't imagine my life being rooted anywhere else. 

I obviously did not take any of the pictures of Southern Miss posted above. In case you're just tuning in, I live in Suriname. If Molly, Hannah, and Mary Lois are reading this, I stole your pictures. Thanks. 

I am going back to site on Monday. Julie and I are cooking up activities for a World AIDS Day celebration and field days at the school. We're going to be busy. I'm thankful for that. When I return to the city in late March, it will be for SUR 17's COS conference. That means Close of Service. Close. Closing service. My service is coming to a close. Holy cow. I cannot believe it. I've lived in this country for a little while, y'all. Wow. 

As always, thanks so much for taking time to keep up with my life, read my blog, pray for me, and make me feel so special. Seriously. I cannot say it enough. 

Also, I will not miss Mardi Gras next year.

Happy New Year!

I cannot believe it's a new year. But isn't that always the case? I said in my New Year's post last year that I am always a little sad to say goodbye to a year. That's because my years are so wonderful and full of great things. Twenty-twelve wasn't different in that regard. Wonderful things happened and I learned so much about life and where I want to be and the things I want to do. I also learned that sometimes I am not completely sure of any of those things, and that is so totally okay too. Twenty-twelve was different though. This was a full calendar year of Peace Corps service. If you've been keeping up with my blog, it's not a surprise to you that while I continue to learn and gain so much, Peace Corps service is hard. I have never lied about that, and maybe sometimes I make it seem like it's only hard. It's rewarding and great in so many ways, but it's been a struggle some days. And that's okay. I think a lot of things in life that are worth doing and learning from are not always easy. The fact is, I love Peace Corps. I love the goals and mission of the organization. I love that I can call myself a Peace Corps Volunteer and be a part of that mission. I am honored that I was chosen for this position. I love the work my fellow PCVs and I are doing and have done. I love knowing that I have the ability, and have been given a unique opportunity to change lives. I love that my life has been changed so much by people I have grown to cherish. Regardless of the struggle and tough days, I do love it. 

Having said all of that, I'll admit it, I am so happy to welcome the year twenty-thirteen. I am okay with twenty-twelve being over. I will finish Peace Corps service this year. In so many ways I truly cannot believe this year is here. I've lived in the jungle for almost two years. That's insane. I am overwhelmed when I think about finishing up service and the fact that the majority of the work I'll do during service is coming in these last few months. That's Peace Corps though. I truly did not have the tools and resources (or language skills) to do these upcoming projects a year ago. I am thankful to be busy in these last few months. It will take my mind away from the States and wanting to be there, because I do want to be there. I am looking forward to all of my upcoming projects, but I am also looking forward to finishing my service. And I think that's a good thing. I don't want to be afraid to go back to the U.S. I want to be ready for the next chapter. I think I am. I think I know I am. I'm going to rock it in twenty-thirteen. I mean, I think I'm rockin at life pretty much all the time, but maybe I get cocky. Seriously though, I love my life, and it's a pretty good one. 

This time of year is always one of reflection, so here are the wonderful things I see when I look back at 2012:

New experiences. New experiences when the shiny wears off and they become life. Turning twenty-five in the jungle and having friends there to help me celebrate. Hugging my parents after almost a year of not seeing them. My parents on a boat in the middle of the Amazon. My parents sitting in my tiny house and hugging those I love most in my village. Youth in the interior of Suriname becoming leaders in their villages. Eating monkey and toucan in the jungle. Yet another Fourth of July and Thanksgiving celebrated with an ambassador. Curacao. Babies being born. Babies learning to walk and talk and say my name. Falling more in love with those twins I just cannot get enough of. Heartache as the big project I was working on came crashing down. Joy that my village found what they were looking for. Parasites. Dengue. Another delicious mango season. Mexican food. The U.S. of A. Mississippi, y'all. Old friends and their new babies. The most amazing and supportive family anyone could ever ask for. A Mexican restaurant in Hattiesburg, MS packed with hugs and love for me. A forgiving and faithful God. 

Let's go, 2013. I'm so glad you're finally here. 

A Three Hour Tour

I promised in my last post that I would write more about my trip way upriver, so here ya go.

November 26- December 1

On the morning of November 26, those of us leaving from the city were picked up about four o'clock. We were well on our way by five, but that doesn't always mean a lot when traveling in Suriname. We arrived in Atjoni (where the road ends and the boat travel begins) about seven. We waited ever so patiently while our guides loaded up our two small boats. Fourteen of us were making the trip. Around nine o'clock, we were on the road again. Well, the river. We had to pick up a few folks along the way that were at their sites, so that took some time. Oh, and I haven't mentioned that the river was about fifteen inches deep in some places. I think we got out of the boat almost every twenty minutes to walk across sand or rocks. Maybe not that much, but way too much. I felt like I was on a hiking trip with a little bit of boat riding thrown in the mix.

We didn't make it to our desired destination on the first day. After ten hours on the river, we stopped for the night to sleep in a shed by the river in a village called, Godo. Now, Godo is located on the river by a pretty substantial rapid called, Tapa Wata. When boats reach Tapa Wata, everything has to come out of the boats. The boats have to be portaged over the rocks. Our guides slept out on the rocks with our stuff, and we saved the task of dragging boats up rapids for the next morning. I hung my hammock in the shack and zonked out.

We were up and at 'em at six a.m. on day two. Pretty soon after waking up, we had ropes in our hands and we were dragging the boats up the rocks. That's hard work, y'all. Day two passed much like day one. Shallow water and walking. We had to portage the luggage and goods at the Gaan Dam again, but this time we just switched to boats that were already at the top of the rapids. We hit our first destination, Langu, after about six hours on the river. Getting the chicken barbecued and the beer cold were top priorities. After supper and some Saamaka music making, we tied our hammocks. Oh, wait. Julie killed a mouse with a dustpan before I could go to sleep. The mouse was in my stuff and ran across my foot. Twice. I have to say, she killed that tiny mouse like a pro. I thanked her, but her real reward was when red ants took over her bag. She literally had ants in her pants the next day. Way to go, Julie.

Day three was another six hour day on the boat, full of much of the same, to our final destination, Sentia Dam. We did spot a pretty decent sized caiman. And the guides shot it. And we ate it for dinner.

Day four was our only day not in a boat. We spent the day lounging in our hammocks, playing games, swimming, and eating more barbecued chicken and fried river fish monsters. Let me just say something about this chicken. Forget marinades. Forget sauces. The way to prepare chicken is to let the entire bag of frozen chicken thaw out in dirty river water and on hot rocks. And then you cook it on an open jungle fire. It was some of the best chicken I have ever eaten. Seriously. Then again, I did have a parasite after this trip. Whatever.

We were up pretty early on day five. We went back to Langu. I bet you already guessed that it was another long day on the river. You're right. We did get to experience the killing and cleaning of a tapir though. Honestly, it made my trip better. Until that point the trip had been way too much just hanging out with heat exhaustion and dehydration for me. We can hang out for a lot less money than this trip cost. Killing a wild animal, now that's a jungle adventure. And it was. I think our guides shot the dang thing seven times. They were beaming as they dragged the animal out of the jungle and down to the river. I couldn't help but be excited for them and for their village. They had to clean it immediately, so we got to see that. It was pretty gruesome, but so interesting. The things these guys can do with a machete is totally impressive. I mean, the precision. Wow. I wanted to squeeze it's stomach, but that's nasty and inappropriate, so I didn't do it. We made it back to Langu exhausted, but with meat. That's a big deal out there. The guides also killed two howler monkeys and a couple of random jungle birds. The village members were pumped. John had a party planned that night for us to hang out with his village. We danced the night away in the jungle.

The next morning we were all set to leave Langu. Folks were going back to their villages, and a group was going back to the city. We were all ready to go when we got the news that the boatmen that were suppose to take us had decided not to go that day. Yeah. John spent the next couple of hours getting it all sorted out. It was a long trip and we were all tired. Patience was running low, but he got it all figured out and we were finally on our way. We spent ten hours on the river with the same song and dance of getting out, walking, getting in, and carrying supplies. We did not make it to Atjoni and our van that day. The six of us going back to the city stayed at a volunteer's site about two hours from Atjoni because night fell and the river is just too risky to navigate at night. The next day, the trip ended and we were in the city. Whew.

I also have to note that every single Saramaccan that was informed of our trip took the time to inform us of how insane we were for making the trip with the river so low. It's fun to get picked on when you're so tired and hot, right? It was an adventure and something I will for sure never do again. Cheers to that.

portaging the boat (notice the women working hard)

sleeping arrangements 

tapir

headless caiman

Little Life

I have obviously been living most of my social life through Facebook for the past nineteen months, so thanks to that (and that fact that people share the majority of their lives on social media) I'm pretty up-to-date on who's married, engaged, or pregnant. And so, I would like to take this opportunity to share that I, too, have a little life inside of me. His name is Giardia and I found out about him yesterday. I have to say I was a little surprised, but not shocked. I returned on Sunday from a trip way up river, literally so far up river, and while on the trip we had to drink filtered river water. It was filtered, but that water is nasty, y'all.

I'm not alone in my news. There are quite a few other PCVs with the same situation. We'll get through it with help from Doc and metronidazole. Here's a picture of my little guy. I think he's smiling at me.

In case you didn't get the joke, although I'm sure the picture helped, giardia is a parasite. I have one. I guess parasites come with the territory, but they definitely are not in my job description. Ugh. I'll survive. Peace Corps is always an adventure, that's for sure. 

I am going back to site on Friday or Saturday. I want to feel better before I make the trip. I am ready to get back and hug those crazy people I live with. I miss them, and it's been a long time since I've slept in my bed. I promise to write more about that trip way up river in the coming weeks. It was a doozy to say the least.