Wednesday, June 29, 2011

News from the Buffalo Bills

The Buffalo Bills Backers group has finally gotten back to me regarding the prominent fan base in Salisbury. See below:


On Wed, Jun 29, 2011 at 8:17 AM, BUF-Bills Backers <BillsBackers@bills.nfl.net> wrote:

Thank you Erin,

We will update our map. Please allow a day or two for the system to refresh. Go Bills!

Bills Backers International


On Wed, Jun 29, 2011 at 8:29 AM, BUF-Bills Backers <BillsBackers@bills.nfl.net> wrote:

Erin,

Do you have a more specific address for this location? We need a physical street address to add your group to the map.

Bills Backers International

sozanski to BUF-Bills
show details 8:58 AM

Hi,

Unfortunately most of the roads in Dominica don't have names but below is a google map with the exact location- hope this helps!


http://maps.google.com/maps/ms?authuser=0&vps=2&jsv=352d&ie=UTF8&hl=en&oe=UTF8&msa=0&msid=213234211959371524298.0004a6dbc8333037b70b1

Please let me know if a different mapping format would be better. Go Bills!

Thanks,
Erin

Monday, June 27, 2011

Minutia and a Boiling Lake

I was quite hungry this afternoon but I’m almost out of stove gas so I wanted to cook something quick. I had a box of Macaroni and Cheese that was my only “easy” meal. I checked the expiration date, because it is kosher here to sell things past their expiration date, and I still had 3 months to eat it. I turned on the water and it ran a murky shade of beige. I left the water on for a while hoping it would clear up. It didn’t. I figured as I’m just using the water to boil pasta its fine if it is a little dirty, besides I’m boiling it first. So I used the murky water and cooked my pasta. Then I had a big internal debate about milk. I get condensed milk here and you’re supposed to mix it with equal parts water- what about dirty water though? Unfortunately my decision was moot because when I poured the cheese powder on my noodles it was the color of rust and smelled of dirty, moldy, chemical cheese.


I considered it but ultimately could not bring myself to eat this appalling mixture, which created a huge problem. Garbage is picked up on Fridays here. There is not an outdoor garbage bin. On Friday morning I walk my bag of trash to the pile on the other side of the road. If you put it out on any day other than Friday* and someone sees you you’ll be mentioned at the next SEC meeting (the group I work for). As there is nowhere to store my garbage outside of my apartment during the week and Dominica is quite warm I quickly learned that I can’t actually throw away food (I’m in an apartment and don’t have access to compost but I appreciate the suggestion in advance) except on Fridays. So the disgusting Macaroni and Cheese went into a Tupperware container in my fridge where it will mock me until Friday morning when I can throw it away just before taking the garbage out.


This weekend a group of PCVs, a couple Dominicans and two French guys who no one seemed to know visited the 2nd largest boiling lake in the world. We all patted ourselves on the back for seeing this but to be honest I didn’t know boiling lakes existed until December. The boiling lake was just what you would imagine (see below) a big murky lake with rolling bubbles and an enormous cloud of steam above it. My favorite part was the Valley of Desolation. It appears to be right out of a science fiction novel. We trekked through a rain forest and began to descend onto a barren rust colored dried creek bed which led into a grey rocky wasteland. The volcanic activity underground causes small puddles all around to steam, bubble and hiss. The rivers flow white and bright blue and are opaque. The water changes between hot and cold throughout the streams with no noticeable rhyme or reason. It is incredible. (see below)



*I tried once to wait until really late at night so as not to be seen but the paro (homeless guy) who sits in the parking lot next to my apartment seems to be awake all night.



Soaking our feet in a hot sulfur stream.

















Can you pick out the french guys?



















See how it boils?
















Approaching the boiling lake.





















The creepy Valley of Desolation.

Monday, June 20, 2011

Hands Across the Sea Week!

On Thursday a student asked me to help him to find a book in the school library about outer space. He wants to be an astronaut when he grows up. We found a book titled “The Moon” and I opened the front cover; the book was written before the Soviet Union first landed on the moon in 1959. It didn’t say the moon is made of green cheese so I let him check it out.


I’m working with an outstanding nonprofit, Hands Across the Sea, to update our library. The end goal being to avoid conversations with grade 3 students about why Danielle Steele novels are not appropriate reading material.


Guess what?! You can help too! Hands Across the Sea is a registered 501c3 (so you can write off your donation) that partners with schools in the Caribbean to build libraries. They purchase gently used/new books at library sales in the US and ship the books down to the schools. The founders have set up a number of partnerships to provide free shipping to Dominica (and the other islands) which means that a $10 donation from you would send 10 books to my library!


I’m working with the teachers in my school to incorporate reading into the classroom. Currently the school has no full class sets of books which makes it impossible to assign reading as homework. We’ve identified class sets of books from Scholastic Book Club (remember how awesome the Scholastic Book Club is?) and with just a $20 donation you could provide an entire class set of books. Imagine Grade 4 students in Salisbury could be reading about the Magic School Bus for years to come because of your generosity!


We’re also asking for art supplies to start art projects about the books kids are reading and to allow us to have visual arts during school. A group of students have volunteered to be peer book recommenders and the grade 5 students will go into younger classrooms to read to the students and recommend books. I’m working with some teachers to keep the library open over the summer so children can come and check out books to read while school is closed.


So please be generous if you are able to. I know many of you love to read and I’m sure many children is Salisbury would love reading if it wasn’t from 1960’s text books about how plants reproduce.


How to help: click on this link and donate! Make sure to specify that you are donating to the Salisbury Primary School. Or check out this page about making in-kind donations. Hands Across the Sea will send you a receipt and I will personally send you as many Catholic prayers as I can during a 2.5 hour mass.

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Week 19

Imagine, this is how stories begin in Dominica. Imagine, this post is late because yesterday was a holiday in Dominica, Pentacost Monday. Imagine, yesterday morning I went up to the garden (farm) to pick cherries and passion fruit. Imagine, this morning I woke up at 5 am to start my cooking. When the story is a joke though you begin with, let me give you a joke. This certainly makes it easier to know when to laugh.


Sometimes I have trouble laughing at the right time anyways because whenever someone tells me to imagine (some people say it as a command) I want to sing, “Imagine there's no Heaven, It's easy if you try, No hell below us, Above us only sky, Imagine all the people, Living for today.” Imagine, I didn’t know the lyrics until I looked them up last week and have actually been singing, “Imagine all the people living inside the world.”


Imagine, people are always telling me to “free myself up.” Which means a mixture of relax, have fun and stop searching for things to do. I’ve been working quite hard at freeing myself up.


This weekend I spent most of Saturday freeing myself up. To promote Salisbury’s Reunion (2 full weeks of events this summer which Salisbarian’s living in the diaspora are returning for) we had a Reunion Train on Saturday. The Reunion Train was a motorcade (about 20 cars) led by a dumper with huge speakers driving up the west coast of Dominica playing music, talking about Reunion, beeping and pulling up on the side of the road to dance. Mind you there is only one road up the west coast so Reunion may have made some enemies too. Some of the cars behind us did not want to free themselves up.


The Reunion Train ended with a party at the Reunion Bar (a fundraising bar for Reunion which is just 100 yards away from my apartment). Because of my location and my participation on the Miss Salisbury Reunion Pageant Committee it was requested that I make my apartment available for the contestants and their chaperones to change and reapply makeup before attending the party. Imagine 12 pageant ladies and me getting ready for a party.


I freed myself up at the party. It is much easier thanks to my new best friend, Sheriff. He is not actually the Sheriff. I think it’s his nickname because he bosses people around a lot. He especially loves bossing around men who try to talk to me. Imagine, a guy comes up to chat with me and Sheriff swoops in and tells him to stay away from me and stands there until the guy leaves. Sometimes he’ll even follow the guy and continue to yell at him. Sometimes he’ll yell at me to not stand in certain locations. This weekend he decided that when I’m helping in the bar I should only stand on the side away from the door because people can reach over the door to touch me. Sheriff’s knowledge about men in the community is spot on though. Imagine, I saw the guy who spent all Friday night telling me he loves me and will take care of me forever in church with his wife on Sunday morning. Sheriff told him never to look at me.









Me, Sheriff and Sheriff’s sidekick

Monday, June 6, 2011

Week 18

Like any self-righteous, moderately educated Peace Corps Volunteer I like to assume that I’m not “that” American. I’m from America but I thought taking a class in Cultural Anthropology prepared me to exist in an a-cultural way. I don’t eat ranch dressing, I don’t watch The Biggest Loser, and I remember to call soccer “football”.


I’m learning just how American I am though. Some of the situations that make me feel overwhelmingly American are predictable, when I tried to eat pig tail and almost vomited or my amazement that meetings all start between 30 minutes and an hour late and begin with a prayer to Jesus. Many of my attitudes I would never have identified as uniquely American until now though.


In April I was attending “Big Sports Day” by the primary school. A little boy came up to me on the way to school and told me that two little girls had called me a Soo Coo Yah. I didn’t know what that was (a Soo Coo Yah is a devil/vampire/bird type thing) so I ignored it. Later in the day I remembered to ask one of the teachers what that was and if I should address it. She said absolutely and found which girls had said it. The girls were in Grade K and had spent the entire day playing with my hair and telling me they loved me. The teachers called the girls over and I started reprimanding them. I asked why they had said that about me and told them it hurt my feelings, especially after we had spent the day playing together. I realized how American this approach was when the teacher started disciplining them;

Teacher: “What happens when you lie about people?”

Students: “You go to hell”

Teacher: “You know what happens when you go to hell?”

Students: “Jesus hates you and it is so hot and you don’t have any water and you family hates you and you can never see anyone you love ever again”

Teacher: “For true. And if you ever lie about anyone again you’ll go to hell.”


One of my projects at the school is working with a Grade 4 boy who is very behind academically. He is barely able to identify letters and his math skills aren’t much better. His family has a lot of issues (which are all public knowledge) and between the lack of supervision or any kind of support he has become quite troublesome. I’ve spent most of my time just trying to build a rapport with him (he will barely look me in the eye and has a severe speech impediment which makes it hard to communicate) and some days I feel like I’m really making breakthroughs. In our Creole class we learned a lot of the bad words. This little boy has a nickname which all the other kids call him that sounds very similar to the Creole word for genitalia. So for the past 4 weeks I have been yelling at kids left and right for calling him this nickname. Finally I asked another teacher why he is allowed to be called this word in school. She laughed. His nickname is not a bad word- it just sounds similar to one. Hypersensitivity to bullying is definitely a uniquely American attitude.


The primary school has 5 houses dividing the students for sporting activities/competitions. I asked how the students are divided up and until a couple years ago they were divided up by last name. Not as in A-F is yellow, G- L is red- as in Vidals are yellow, Ambos are red, Jno Charles are blue. All 600 + students had one of five last names. This amazes me. Everyone is related. My amazement is incredibly American. Most countries are not made up of hundreds of immigrants arriving through out 400 years settling all over the nation. Salisbury is like most of the world. Very few new people move in. A couple families settle a region and they continue to live there.


I know that there are areas in the U.S. where these examples are the norm and I am not trying to discount those areas but I believe my attitudes to these examples are uniquely American. (How American is this paragraph?)


In case you were wondering the Buffalo Bills have not yet contacted me regarding my application. I will follow up this week about the hold up. I hope they are not suspicious about my address.