Monday, February 17, 2014

The Two Week Warning


I am leaving in about two weeks’ time, yet it doesn’t feel like it.  I am busy as always, finishing things up, making the most of my time.  Sleep is starting to become optional.  I’d rather spend as much time with people as I can.  I walk the streets here comfortable, like I’ve been here for a while; I have been here a good while but only a blip in the terms of my life.  I watch people, the woman at the shop tending to customers, children making fun of each other on their bikes; it will all go on when I am gone.  People will continue to do the same things they have always done.  The only difference is that I will no longer be here.  At this moment, I can’t imagine what it will be like to not be coming back here, it hasn’t sunk in yet and I’m not sure when it will.  Actually, I’m a little frightened of that moment to be honest.  I’m at a point where I know it is coming, I know it is going to hurt, there is nothing that makes me want to leave, but still my next adventure is calling me so it is time to go.
I think your eyes are open widest when you are seeing a place for the first time and then for the last time.  When I first got here I was making observations, trying to figure out what it all meant, what people were doing, learning what sights and sounds should be familiar.  Now it makes sense.  I have to keep myself from laughing sometimes because I recognize certain things as “so Guyanese,” things that only really happen when you live here.   Yet I’m still meeting new people and every time I do new doors open to things I haven’t seen before.  And I thought two years was a long time.   We had our Close of Service Conference at the end of January, which was supposed to be a reflective, emotional time to say good bye to each other and hang out. Unfortunately, a crazy stomach bug struck, reminding us that even after two years, life in Guyana is still unpredictable and it still can be tough to get by sometimes.  I think that is another reason why leaving doesn’t quite seem real.  Our COS didn’t really seem like a COS.  I also have been working like normal.  I’m finishing up my courses at school, and will probably work until the last week I’m here.  I am not one to sit around and take a long time to pack.  If I sit alone for too long you might as well buy me boxes of tissues because all I will do is cry for a good portion of the time.  I really don’t like doing that so I try to remain busy and if I don’t acknowledge things too much, it isn’t really happening.  IGNOREance is bliss right?
I was away from site for a bit with a whole set of doctors and dentist appoints you have to go through with COS stuff.  Goodness!  I was pretty ready to get back after my medical appointments and follow-ups kept me out of my site for 6 days.  I ended up getting 8 moles removed, which I would have thought to be a minor procedure, but I was admitted to the hospital for the day.  I went to the OR (Operation Theatre here), got stiches for the first time, and everything.  It did make me very excited that I will be doing nursing in the fall, so I will actually know what things are and proper procedures for things.  It definitely was an interesting experience and I have realized that I will never make a good patient.  It was really hard to let a nurse walk me to a place or listen to her when I should have been lying down in bed.  Normally, I like to take care of people, so it was really weird to have someone assisting me.
Despite trying to wind things down, I feel like they are winding up in a way. I attended a mini-BRO (Brothers Reaching Others) a boy’s leadership camp in Linden.  I was very excited to be a part of this because it symbolizes the start of a next venture for the Gender and Development Taskforce.  We have put on girl’s camps and a large boy’s camp is our next step.  It is just really cool to see something you have thought about and planned for become a reality.  It shows me that we have made some amazing strides in this area.    I also got the GLOW girls from my area together for a little party.  We made pizzas, cookies, and watched movies.  It was just a fun day to hang out, relax, and reminisce a bit about camp.  It also helps to keep our network of girl strong and encourages them to support one another, plus I love hanging out with them and seeing what they are up to.   
One of my most recent moments that really just astounded me (in a good way) was the training I led for the Cancer Society.  We all recognized that the members wanted training so that they too could give health talks about cancer and improve their own knowledge; we just never found a good time to do it.  Since I am leaving so soon, we finally arranged a date.  I asked the President to call the members and tell them I would bring a snack as a somewhat motivator for them to come out.  Normally, we get a handful of members at our meetings and I really expected the same amount.  When I arrive at the meeting, there were over 15 members there ready for the training.  I couldn’t believe it!  I am not sure if it was because I am leaving, because they were threatened (a joke), or what, but I was impressed.   Even more encouraging, all members listened and interacted for over two hours!  I made macaroni and cheese, hot dogs, and cookies as a dinner / reward for the hard work they put into the session.  They were all so excited about the information and I think about having the tools now to go help others.  These women are simply community members that care about raising awareness about cancer and their willingness to learn simply humbled me in an inexplicable way.  I had to hide the tears that came to my eyes when we were closing our meeting because I was so proud and touched by each and every member.  One older woman came up and gave me a hug, a kiss on the cheek and dashed away in smiles. 
I never intended to make great waves being here, to build anything great, or to be rewarded and praised for doing a whole set of things.  I only brought some knowledge that I learned through my studies and was willing to put the time and energy into working with who ever wanted to learn.  I always remember a slide in one of my lectures that says “health promotion is not done to, on or at people, but rather by working with people.”  This might have been one of my top moments here, working with these women so that they can do something big. 
Two weeks and I will no longer be a PCV, I will embark on a next journey that will surely include finding ways to keep these moments I’ve had in Guyana alive. 
I think I will have one last post before I head out.    Spring better don come out der up North cuz me not able wit all dem snow storms up der budday… :-)


-KB

Thursday, February 6, 2014

Walking



I need to walk; walking is what I need to do.
So I am walking there, not catching a ride.
Walking is what I need to do because I need to catch the sun; I need those rays to warm my bones because they have become far too cold and brittle.
If I don’t walk, I won’t catch this sun and I’m afraid I will crumble into the very dust I am trying to walk on. 
I need to walk; walking is what I need to do.
So I am walking there, not catching a ride.
I have grown stiff and numb, passive in an active environment.  Walking will warm my muscles, so that every sinew sparks with heat, so that I can ignite a fire. 
If I don’t walk, my fire will not blaze; I will not emanate light and warmth, but sit cool and rigid, becoming an object that is affected.
I need to walk; walking is what I need to do.
So I am walking there, not catching a ride.
I need to feel my feet tap the pavement, each piece of gravel pressing itself into my foot.  I need to hear the rhythm of my steps to move my brain and awaken my mind.
If I don’t walk, my mind will remain stale, holding on to every sight or sound, letting them sit and  ferment until my brain is inebriated simply by being.
I need to walk; walking is what I need to do.
So I am walking there, not catching a ride.
I need my pores to open wide and release the things they've been holding on to, to feel sweat trickle down my face, its salinity reminding me of my thirst.
If I don't walk, my soul will not breathe, it will remain trapped by burdens, likely to succumb to the growing weight.

I need to walk; walking is what I need to do.

So I am walking there, not catching a ride, so that I can feel alive again.