The Happenings

I have not posted in a while, I have been quite busy. I think I am giving up on being brilliant in these blog posts and will just be human. The last couple of weeks I have been getting more tired and more busy. On Sunday the 11th after cleaning the house, doing laundry, and finishing lesson plans I wrote a long email to my friend Courtney reflecting on the day and looking forward to the coming week. It was looking full and stressful. The next morning I came back to my home from cooking breakfast for the kids (Laura had to leave early on a medi vac) to find two local boys on my steps, pencils in hand. They were out of school in the morning because they had final exams in the afternoon and wanted to do school with me. I should have asked them to come back when I had something planned for them, but I just tried to integrate them into our school for the day. Just after worship, another boy came, wanting to learn. Woof. I spent that week trying to balance all of the ages, cultures, and learning levels. Everybody learned something, but I mostly wore myself out. On Friday the 17th Esther Wolfkill (fellow WWU student) and another volunteer, Carmen, arrived from another part of Guyana to spend Christmas in Mabaruma. Sabbath we went to Blackwater (small community 1.5 hrs out on the river). Sunday we made cookies with 23 Guyanese children. Monday and Tuesday we all taught the kids. Carmen, bless her heart, took it upon herself to have hot food ready when Esther and I were finished with school each day. Tuesday afternoon the WFH team packed 40 bags with clothes, books, toys, and a little flour to give out for Christmas. We started Christmas break on Wednesday. It was wonderful to spend time with Esther and Carmen and to have a break. Chrystal and I have continued our tutoring in the afternoon but I took a break from doing school with Dani, Micah, and the other boys. Esther and I had a wonderful time talking about our experiences in Guyana, cooking together, and eating tons of food. The time refreshed me and filled me up again. As you remember me, please also keep Esther in your prayers. She is going to begin teaching two classes at Bethany College here in Guyana in January-she is going to rock it, and I know she would appreciate the prayers. She does not have a blog because she does not have ready access to internet. We celebrated Christmas all together with the WFH team by passing out the bags of clothes and food, then gathering at the Wickwires’ for a big Christmas dinner. Esther and Carmen left Thursday and I have returned to homeschooling Dani and Micah. I’m working with the other boys for an hour and a half in the afternoon and then go down to Van Fossens to tutor Alex and Ronny. That about fills up my schedule! December has been good. Busy, but good. I continue to see evidence of God’s care and love and continue to look for ways to reflect that to the people around me. I have no doubt that your holiday seasons were busy as well, thank you for your holiday wishes and your prayers.

Rules are mostly meant to be broken...

"Rules are mostly meant to be broken and are too often for the lazy to hide behind."

-Douglas MacArthur

I have always felt some comfort in rules. If things follow rules they can be understood. I could ask myself, “why am I feeling sick?” and my mind would answer, “because you stayed up too late and had too much sugar.” Fine. The sickness is boxed, controlled by some rules and acting as it should. It is not scary, I understand it. I know what to do to fix it. If I sleep more and don’t eat sugar I will get better. At home, I used to comfort myself with thoughts like “there can’t be a poisonous spider there, there aren’t any that live in this climate” or “this is safe to eat, there are standards about how these things are processed”. De facto, my practice was to take fear, add the right knowledge, and watch the fear melt away. It worked pretty well as long as the amount that I learned about the world that dismissed my fears kept up with the amount I learned to fear. 

Here in Guyana there is less system and the rules are a little less known. There could well be a bushmaster in the thicket-no one really knows. The peanut butter may or may not be safe to eat. No one tests the water for harmful amounts of lead or mining run off. Call 911 and the ambulance will be here soon? Good luck. The rules are not always followed or just plain don’t exist. Before coming here I tried to fight it. I researched and read all that I could about Guyana, hoping the stuff my brain with all the “right” pieces of information to combat the fears I knew I would encounter. I tried to learn everything I could so I would always know what to do. Fortunately, that didn’t work. The information has not been enough offset the fears.

Since coming here, I have had fears here that I can not logically dismiss and so I must have faith. This is freeing. Instead of trusting in my own knowledge I can now trust in the knowledge of an all knowing God. We have not been called to live in fear. Knowing a God of love, our actions, decisions, and interactions can not be fear based. We have been called to live by faith and, knowing a God of love, our actions, decisions, and interactions must be faith based. Not foolish, not rash, but trusting in the love and knowledge of an all-knowing God.

Thanksgiving is for Coming Together.

The Guyanese did not give the passing of the 4th Thursday in November much though. The American missionaries, Peace Corps volunteers, World Teach teachers and student missionary however, did. We gathered yesterday at the home of the Wickwires (who, incidentally, are Canadian and so had a second Thanksgiving) for our Thanksgiving celebration. The house was crackling with excitement and good cheer as people and food began to arrive. Everyone has been planning what to bring, how to get here, and looking forward to the day for weeks now. Travis and Harmony (Peace Corps) came in for the day from their school and health hut at Kumwata (an morning’s travel away), Emily (Peace Corps) came from White Water, three teachers arrived from Wauna. From Mabaruma came Lizzy and Suzanne (World Teach), Nate and Ilona (Peace Corps at the hospital), LaBores, Van Fossens, and I. All together there were almost 30 white people assembled under one roof in the midst of Mabaruma to eat, talk, and be thankful. Despite the homogeneity of completion, our group was quite diverse. Health workers, Bible workers, teachers, students, English, Canadian, Scottish, Puerto Rican, America. All and more were represented. We don’t really all know each other either. Everyone is busy working in their own place and even though I’ve been here 2 months now this was the first time I had met Nate, who lives in Mabaruma, to say nothing of the rest who came in. We piled the table full of food-everyone doing their best to make the Guyanese ingredients taste like the American holiday. We had two turkeys, stuffing, gravy, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, a plethora of pumpkin pies, plus other dishes. And we ate and ate and ate. And then talked and ate some more. When we shared what we were thankful for patterns emerged. We were thankful to be there, safe though another year. We were thankful for the support of our families and friends at home, we were thankful for the kindness of our friends here. The room was filled with stories and laughter from all corners for hours. It was really beautiful to sit at that long table and see everyone, so mixed in background, political view, religion, occupation, and age come together in joyful thankfulness.

Earlier yesterday I read the Thanksgiving story to my kids as they lay crowded in the “Mayflower” hammock. It is been a while since I have read that story. I am sure I studied it in school and we probably even touched on it in US History with Monty Buell last year. But the Thanksgiving holiday for me has never been much more than a break from school, a harbinger to my birthday, a time to travel, eat, and then go home again. The food has always been good, I have taken the opportunity to stuff myself before, but it is so much different to gaze upon a table filled with home like food when I have been away from home. It has always been a time to come together with family, but it is so much different to come together with people I have never met before, may never see again, and yet find their hopes, aches, and joys mimic my own. It was beautiful to come together at Thanksgiving and find that in thanksgiving we were closer together then we ever realized before. I don’t think that the Wickwire’s house in Guyana is the only place that can happen. I hope that Thanksgiving day isn’t the only time it can happen either. There may not be a time when I enjoy stuffing more, but but I hope that there are many more times that I am truly thankful and find others thankful with me. 

Make the Most of the Moments.

I woke up yesterday feeling tired, a little grumpy, and generally not wanting to get up. It has been a busy week.

Monday, I started my third consecutive week of school with the kids. They are during really well learning the schedule and we can usually finish everything we need to by noon. At one, Laura stopped by and asked if I could stay with Dani and Micah that night. Her husband Bill was away on some Wings For Humanity business.  She had just been called to medivac two badly dehydrated babies and would need to stay in Georgetown that night. No problem, I packed up my stuff and headed over to LaBore’s for the rest of the afternoon and evening. I got the kids fed and into bed then drifted off to sleep myself. 

Tuesday morning we did school and Laura returned so I handed off her kids back into her care. Shundel and I visited Sister Iris to read and chat with her. She is 88, totally blind, and lives in a small house all alone during the day. I have found that she has an incredible memory-having not read the Bible for so long she still remembers details of the stories that I have forgotten. She also just enjoys having someone to talk to and Shundel and I try to visit her each week. Generally I go to the Van Fossen’s house each day to tutor Ronny and Alex while Chrystal Van Fossen works with Elden. Tuesday was no exception and we worked with the boys in reading and "maths". The boys are making slow, sometimes imperceptible progress. 

Wednesday I walked down in the bright sun to help out with peds/baby clinic at the hospital. Healthcare is free in Guyana, if you can make it to a hospital or clinic. Mabaruma Hospital is THE hospital for all of Region 1. Each mother has a “small card” for each child. It is a small booklet which contains the child’s immunization record, growth charts, and notes from each clinic visit. At the hospital there is a “big card” for each child that contains the same information, just in a larger booklet. My job this Wednesday was to locate the big card for each small card turned in. After that was finished I helped Hannah measure and weigh children. I taught Dani and Micah school that afternoon and fell into bed exhausted.

Thursday morning I woke up feeling tired, a little grumpy, and generally not wanting to get up. I rolled over and picked up a letter I had received. It talked about living each day as if it was the last. Cherishing the moments. I’ve been reading “Tuesdays with Morrie”, a book about a professor dying of ALS who models living fully to the last labored breath. I looked around my room and saw pictures of my friends and family. In each picture a moment was captured. I replayed the memories in my mind, a glint of which was locked up in the smiling faces. “Make the most of the moments” echoed through my brain. I sat up, untucked my mosquito net and stumbled out into the kitchen. Shundel and I made up pumpkin pie that morning before school. I taught, went to Kumaka, skyped with my mother, tutored, slept like a rock. Beautiful, full moments.

Today, I received a note from my good friend Kelsey Zuppan. Veteran of two years abroad she encouraged me to make the most of each day I have here. To value the experiences and learn as much as I can. In short, make the most of the moments. Today I taught school and did the Friday cleaning, mopping the floor with my kitten Razz keeping me company. It’s almost Sabbath now and beyond stretch a string of moments yet to be filled. But right now I am making the most of this moment. The evening is cool, it isn’t dark yet. Razz sits purring on my lap. The neighbor has started playing a Reggae version of “We Wish you a Merry Christmas”. 

Happy Sabbath to you, I hope your moments are full of good things where ever you are.

Where's the glue?

Due to some trips, visitors, and other breaks from the normal, this last week was the first time that I have had Daniella and Micah in school for 5 full, consecutive days of school. It has been so good. From now until Christmas the schedule should be much more regular and I am glad that all of us can get into a regular routine. Once again, I’m learning how different the way I have done school in the past is from the way I do school now. 

At Walla Walla, in my dorm room I had a desk full of odds and ends, papers, notebooks, binders, gobs of books, internet access. There was a bookstore down the street, friends living in the village, a cafeteria, Safeway, Taco Bell. If I forgot something it wasn’t far back to the dorm, easy to call a friend or look it up, fine to climb in my car and go get whatever it was I needed. There were layers that cushioned me. I could rely, and did rely, on these layers. That usually worked just fine there. Here it is just a little different. Working with kids is just a little different. With those layers gone I am realizing how much I just launched into things just assuming they would work out.

Assuming it would work out, I started Micah into an assignment the other day. I got out the page for him to do in reading. It requires him to read a short sentence, cut it out, and glue it next to the picture that illustrates what the sentence says. We began. He read the sentences through and we pointed to the pictures. Then it was time to cut them out. 

“Where are the scissors?”

“Check the basket.”

“No, I can’t find them.”

 Hmmm...I get up to check. Here they are, under the Egypt book. 

“Are we going to learn about Egypt?” 

“Yep!”

“Today?”

“No, not today.”

“Are we going to make the that thing the boy is playing with?”

“Maybe, we’ll see.”

“Okay, because I would really like hmmm...to do that.” 

We make it back to the desk. Razz the kitten walks by. Micah scoops her up and deposits her into his desk. 

“Look at Razz Miss Annika! I think she likes it there.”

“Yes, I think so Micah. Okay, let’s cut out the sentences now and glue them.”

Sentences cut out. Now where is the glue? “Oh bother...should have got that when we got the scissors”,  I think. “I’ll get it Micah! You just stay there.”

I look for the glue. Where did I leave it? I had it yesterday when we were making the bean ten stick...there it is. Back to Micah’s desk. 

“Look Miss Annika! Razz is playing with my pencil! Where did the sentences go?” 

The sliding glass door is open, offering a clue. “Oh shoot...should have had that closed,” I chide myself. 

“Okay, well, let’s pick them up!”

One is under the sofa. 

“Look at this Miss Annika! Razz's marble! I’ll put it by her other toys.” 

He scurries off before I have time to protest. Finally, scissors, glue, sentences and Micah all collected he matches his sentences with the pictures and glues them down.

Micah is a first grader. He is learning how to do this whole school thing. No matter how good I am he will still get distracted and that is ok. Both kids are getting used to this year’s routine. And while they are learning, I am learning to help them. I am learning to think through ALL the steps slowly and carefully, to have the glue set out, the door shut, and the activity tested. I am learning to make sure things are charged when the power is on so they can be used when the power is off. I am learning to shop for the week’s fresh produce on Tuesdays and to think through what I’m planning to make before trying to make it. To remember to start laundry while there are still enough clothes for a little while because it sometimes takes things a few days to dry. I think this is all very good for me. Even with thinking through everything life isn't fool proof, but I am learning that thinking through where the glue is instead of assuming it is there is a good way to go.

Folic Acid.

Two Thursdays ago Shundel and I stumbled upon a boy in diapers. He was probably 8 or 9, had two crooked feet, two shriveled legs, and a grapefruit sized lump at the base of his spine. Leaving the house I could taste the tears in my throat. What future does a boy like that have in a place like this? How could God let a child like that be born in a place like this? 

People here are money poor but relatively resource rich. There are trees loaded with breadfruit, papaya, and bananas. Just climb them. Fences are covered with passion fruit. Pick them. Water coconut is an excellent electrolyte replacing drink if anyone gets dehydrated. Chop a hole and drink up. A piece of basil put in the ground will grow roots within days. But is it a place for a boy who can not walk? No. How is he to survive? He will just be a burden and probably be thrown out or died young, never to marry, never to go to school, never to run, or even voluntarily relieve himself. Worse, my guess is that a timely dose of folic acid would have circumnavigated the whole situation. I thought, “That child and his mother need Jesus, but what she really needed was some folic acid.” Standing there I wished that I had the power to heal, but more than that I wished I had the power to prevent.

I spent the next Tuesday morning at Mabaruma Hospital helping with the weekly maturity clinic. About 30 pregnant women came for a check up. I took their blood pressure, weighed them, gave and read a simple urine test (protein, pH, glucose). Then they were off to Nurse Jesse. After I was done admitting everyone I went back to Nurse Jesse too and watched as she measured the height of the uterine fundus, found the fetal heartbeat in appropriate cases, and sometimes checked their iron levels. The women are also tested twice for HIV during the course of their pregnancies. Nurse Jesse then gave them the a supply of iron and folic acid supplements to last until their next clinic day. I helped where I could; tried measuring the fundul height, heard the hearts beat, and folded pill envelopes. Jesse asked me to pour 14 pills into an envelope and I grabbed the bottle of folic acid by its unsecured top sending the whole bottle open onto the floor. Pills skittered away. 

Nurse Jesse laughed at me, the pregnant mother laughed at me, I laughed at myself. But as I swept up the pills I saw the boy in his diaper sitting in the dirt. 

The women who come to maternity clinic come mostly from the areas around Mabaruma. That could mean walking a few miles, riding on the back of a motorcycle, or catching a bus-or a mix of any of those. Some make the trip in from the river, paddling a dugout canoe from their homes to the town of Kumaka and then walking or taking a bus up the hill to Mabaruma. I don’t know how long the trips are to retrieve their iron and folic acid. But they come in on their assigned day, cushioning their unborn children as best they can. But what about the boy’s mother? I don’t know where she was when she was carrying him. He is living in Mabaruma Settlement now-under five miles from the hospital and shorter then that to a place where busses go. Did she come and get unlucky? Were they out of folic acid because someone spilled? Was she unable to come? Ignorant? Or was she just lazy? In order to know how to prevent I think it necessary to know the perpetrator. Why was a child like that born in a place like this? 

But God. But God, as he so often does, takes the thing we are so focused on in our attempts to help and shifts the focus. Takes our perspective and injects it with something that defies human logic. In John 9, when the boy was born blind, Jesus answered those seeking the perpetrator as such, “His blindness has nothing to do with his sins or his parents’ sins. He is blind so that God’s power might be seen at work in him.” [John 9:3] Who “caused” this is irrelevant. That child was born to show God’s power working. Just as I was. He is not broken beyond repair. He is still as fit for the purpose for which he was created as I am. Can I, believing in a all powerful God, believe too that a boy who can not walk or control his bladder has been forgotten by God? That his birth was an accident or oversight? That he has no future? That God has no use for him? I cannot. I don't know what plans God has for that child and I am not really sure what this all means yet. But somehow God is still present.

Incomparable

Monday I decided it was taking too much energy to compare things here to life in the States. People live full, happy lives here without experiencing the joys of a crisp apple and so I can too. I can’t have a peach, but I can have sumatoo (built like a passion fruit, tastes like a pomegranate. Fantastic.). There isn’t hot water, but honestly, who needs hot water? Cool feels better here anyway. On Wednesday, walking down to Van Fossen’s to help Chrystal tutor 3 neighbor boys, I decided I loved it here. I love setting my own schedule. I like this relaxed pace-no one is ever too busy or to return a smile and say “Good morning!” or “Good afternoon!”. I feel like a tight spring inside of me is slowly releasing as I sleep off my sleep debt, walk everywhere and challenge my brain in new ways. Dani and Micah have been on vacation with their parents so I have been doing this by going with Shundel as she checks up on sick people and gives hydrotherapy treatments, reading Bible stories to Mrs. Smith and Sister Iris; who are mostly blind and totally blind, volunteering at the hospital, and helping Chrystal tutor Elden, Alex and Ronny.  

My garden plot. Complete with drainage ditch.

Elden, Alex, and Ronny are in sixth, third, and first standard respectively and they are relearning to read and count. Supposedly the “standards” are equivalent to US grade levels-but not in reality. When the boys first started visiting Chrystal to be taught they knew most of the alphabet but didn't know most of the sounds the letters make. They were trying to sound out words by repeating the names of the letters. Because of this, we are instructing all three at the same basic level. Now they can get the right sound with each letter most of the time. In Math these little guys know how to count to 10 but do not associate the symbols for 7, 8, 9 with the actual quantity. Of course, without a solid understanding of how numbers work addition and subtraction are difficult. When we add one tile to the rest they don’t think of the next number in sequence, they just recount. We are starting at the beginning, trying to help them unlearn old habits and make new building blocks. Working with Elden, Alex, and Ronny is a challenge that I have honestly been enjoying. It is a stretch to explain old things in new ways hoping that they understand.

I have also been trying to learn to cook here. Shundel is a great cook-which is good otherwise we would both be living off passion fruit and potatoes. I managed a passable dry bake (kind of like naan) this morning-with fried potatoes. The beans I tried mid week were a total fail. Breadfruit is good-it tastes like a potato and we have a tree out back that the neighbor says we are welcome to take from. I climbed it this afternoon and picked one. I also tried to plant a garden. As I was starting to dig out my garden plot I was surrounded by 6 boys. They asked what I was doing. When I told them I was planting a garden they laughed my attempts and took the pick ax to show me how gardening is done. Taking turns they dug out a bed, cleaned it, planted my thick leaf callaloo, planted peppers, watered the starts and then Emmanuel (his is the only name I remember) called back me as they walked off “You got to water it each morning Miss!” I continue to be amazed by the kindness of these people.

Today's Best Place

Mabaruma is a small town (pop 1500-2000) built on the ridge line above two valleys. The people here are mostly Amerindian; the native population of Guyana before the English, Dutch, blacks and East Indians arrived. They are short, dark skinned and have dark hair. Mabaruma also has a fair number of blacks but I think fewer East Indians proportionally then Georgetown (a note on race and the discussion of race in Guyana: there is no such thing as political correctness. If someone is black, you call them black (or even “coolies”-British carryover). If someone is East Indian it is okay to say so. It isn’t even considered derogatory to call someone fat or “fine” (skinny). You are what you are. As I was walking the other day a little girl called out to me “White Miss! White Miss! Good afternoon!” and that was just right). Things are just tougher here; laundry, clean water, food. They all require much more work to get then in the states. Even the vegetables are tougher. I went to the market on Tuesday with Shundel and was so excited to find something they called spinach there. As soon as I got it home I rinsed it, bleached it, rinsed it in clean water, and then stuck it into my mouth. Mid-chew Shundel queried, “What’s that you’re eating?” 

“Spinach!” I replied triumphantly. 

“Ohhh...it make your mouth itch!” 

And just about then it started. “Spinach” here has tiny spines on it. I spat out the offensive vegetable and dejectedly garaged salt water to clean my cuts. Lesson learned. 

I feel safe here in Mabaruma-despite the vegetables. There is little crime, I haven’t seen any snakes (I’m guessing they are not terribly common-both Dani and Micah run around barefoot and the worst they get aside from cuts are chiggers, which, while unpleasant, are not dangerous), and the people like both Americans and missionaries. The sun pretty much sets and rises at 6 each day. Bucket showers take a little getting used to but they are quite doable. There are far too many bugs to count or stress about. So I’m trying to stop. 

I am not comfortable here yet but I see how I could be comfortable here and that is encouraging. I miss home. Being away at college or camp and being away in Guyana are much different. Something about knowing that my parents or friends could not be here quickly even if they really wanted to be makes it feel much farther away. I have been having some culture shock-trouble eating new food (beyond when the food tries to eat me), waking up happy, etc etc. The end of last week and beginning of this week were particularly hard but Wednesday, Thursday and today have been much better. I hope and believe that things will continue to get better. One day at a time.

I know I am supposed to be here. To get me here has been a journey, one that I will write about some other time. But through the process I have seen the hand of God and I know that I am supposed to be here. And so here I am. Uncomfortable but adjusting; knowing that I am in the right place. Which, really, is the best place to be.

Photo Link

For some reason Facebook's photo uploader seems to upload pictures faster then Blogspot's. Here is a link to view my photos on Facebook. I will post the majority there but still include the pictures relevant to what I am writing about on this blog. Sorry for the inconvenience!

http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150313668504646.342093.561464645&l=ec825e125d&type=1

Schooled. In a good way.

I began teaching Dani and Micah Wednesday morning. They are eight and six respectively. I’m teaching Micah first grade material and Dani is into a mix of third and forth grade work. They come trundling over to Shundel and I’s house each morning usually with Joggy (their dog) in tow. Yesterday they also brought their pet turtle Moses. But I digress. Teaching school well is loads different then doing school well. And while I could tell you lots of qualities that make a good teacher-consistency, knowledge, organizational skills, commitment to planning-knowing these qualities and living them are quite different things. It is Friday now, I’ve finished three days. It’s going relatively well despite my completely forgetting to use one of Micah’s books the first day, my flip flopping instructions, my forgetting that in first and fourth grade school still needs to be fun and listening to an “interesting” textbook is not fun. I’ve adjusted, cut down on the reading of “Streams of Civilization” and ramped up the “lets make an alphabet scroll just like the Egyptians!” I’ve started making a schedule; a “Daily Assignment” list like Mamma made for Zachri and I back when we were in first and fourth grade. I don’t know how my mother did what she did homeschooling us kids. I struggle making one days worth of an assignment sheet-she did it by the week-AND it was clear, challenging but not frustrating, AND we covered the material we needed to. School has always come pretty naturally to me; but I have also had the privilege of having good teachers. Teaching school isn’t coming naturally-but I still have had the privilege of having good teachers. Thank you to my teachers and most especially Mamma. I thank you now for the work it took to make it look seamless. I know now that it was work. I don’t know how you did taught me and made it fun at whatever level I was at.  My hope is that these kids, despite having me, will see glimpses of you my teachers and of the Master Teacher.

Arrived in Mabaruma.

Wings for Humanity eventually opted for making a special flight out on Monday to get Laura, Dani and I from Georgetown. There wasn’t going to be room with the body (which, my mistake, was actually coming from Georgetown to Mabaruma) A special flight costs them in gas, versus when they are able to bring out a medivac patient the government hospital will pay their transport costs. Currently, there isn’t lots of extra money for flights like bringing me in or transporting other non paying customers (for example THE pastor for Region 1. He is responsible for 8 churches spread over the jungle) although a Sabbath School class in Southern California gives them $500 monthly which covers about one extra flight. 

I'm smiling so you can't see my teeth chattering.

Getting into the little Cessna 182 I realized that this is truly the craziest thing I’ve ever done. Everything I had brought with me, my two suitcases, violin, computer, bible, journal, pictures, and my new kitten were packed into the plane all around and on top of me. We took off with Laura in command. Mabaruma is about an hour’s flight over the jungle from Georgetown. Greg Van Fossen flew out to get us and he and Laura chatted on the radio the whole way back while I tensed and tried not to scream into my headset every time we hit a cloud with it’s bumps. They also found that particular flight a good time to talk about emergency procedures. Since the best thing to hear flying over a remote jungle is of course a discussion of “Glide, Gas, Gab, and Get out.” It really wasn’t that bad, by the end I was able to almost enjoy it. Greg is an experienced pilot and flight instructor and Laura has been flying here in Guyana for the last five years-and hey, at least now I know they think about what to do in an emergency. Guyana from the air is pretty; very green, lots of silver glinted rivers snaking through green jungle. After about an hour of flight time we flew over the Mabaruma airstrip to check out the runway and then landed smoothly. We were greeted by a crowd of children from Hobo Hill-adjacent to the airstrip. They were mostly happy to see Dani, curious about my kitten-in-a-box, but smiled and told me their names. I showed them my violin and played “Amazing Grace”. Jud and Karen Wickwire-the parents of the third family in the Wings for Humanity Guyana trio arrived and together we unloaded the plane and loaded the taxi-it was a tight squeeze but we eventually got everyone’s stuff to the right places. I arrived at my new house in Mabaruma and met my housemate Shundel. She is medical missionary who graduated from Bethany Medical Missionary College in Bethany Guyana. Shundel spends her days visiting people and giving hydrotherapy treatments and massages and taking classes. She hopes to get into a nursing program sometime next year. I moved my stuff in and fell into bed exhausted.

Mudskippers and Other Learning Experiences

When Guyana was a Dutch colony, the Dutch, with their affinity for thwarting the natural course of water, built a sea wall to hold back the ocean. Behind the seawall they built Georgetown-about 6 ft below sea level. Georgetown still retains many of the Dutch place names (I visited Stabroek Market Friday) and, as well as the seawall, a network of canals to drain water from the city. Every road has water filled ditch beside it with a gate at the end where the water is pumped into the Atlantic ocean. By virtue of this arrangement is there is always standing water in Georgetown, wonderful breeding ground for mosquitos. Fortunately, they are not the type that carry malaria but I still don’t like getting bit up. Also, partly because of the city drain water and partly because the Essequibo and Demerara rivers have their mouths near Georgetown, the ocean is dyed brown. Laura tells me that when Micah and Dani first started coloring pictures they colored water as brown rather then blue. We walked along the seawall this Sabbath afternoon; it was quite pleasant, coastal wind and a beach that is more muddy then sandy. But they have mudskippers! Previous to today I had only seen mudskippers on National Geographic and Nature programs. They are funny looking little fish with eyes on the tops of their heads and remind me a little of crickets both in their looks and movements. At first I watched them from the seawall and thought to myself “well those look easy enough to catch” Not so. As soon as one gets close to the water these little fish high tail it out of there. Quite literally, they move by wiggling when they are on the sand but as soon as they hit the water they are able to skip across the waves on their bellies extremely quickly. I was unable to even get a decent picture. I tried sneaking up on them. I tried to cut them off from the water and then chase them up onto the beach. I even tried standing still waiting for them to make a mistake. No dice. Crazy little fish. 

My best photo of the elusive mudskipper.
If you squint there is a dot in the top left quadrant that might be one. Or maybe not. Crazy little fish.

There hasn’t been a medivac flight out yet so Laura, Dani and I have are using the time picking up supplies for the rest of the team back in Mabaruma, stocking up on food since it is a little cheaper here, and getting acquainted. The LaBores have lived here for six years now and are staying another four. They know the town, have trusted taxi drivers on speed dial, and speak Creole. I feel very fortunate to have them as tour guides as we collect everything. It is a little odd, but despite being in South America Guyanan culture has had about zero Spanish/Latino influence. People here are primarily Blacks (decedents of African slaves who worked on the sugar cane farms), East Indian (decedents of sugar cane workers who came in after Britain outlawed the slave trade), or AmerIndian (native population from who knows when) and eat curry and rice rather then rice and beans. It seems a very kind culture despite the poverty. The market vendors aren’t pushy-they post their prices for everyone (including “white-tees”, what they call us), instead of yelling “hey” or “hello” it is respectful to great someone with the appropriate “good morning”, “good afternoon”, or “good night”. Here in Georgetown they speak mostly Creole, a language I haven’t quite got an ear for understanding yet-I love listening to it though. It is a laid back language where you don’t pronounce words fully and instead of using pronouns like “her” or “him” you would just say “she” or “he”. A sentence would be something like “Dey be closed now but I dunno if dey gonna oapen bach, ya know.”, meaning “They are closed now and I’m not sure if they will open back up again.” or “We come to Georgetown to pick up she.” as Dani said to explain why she and Laura were in town. Little twists and a cool accent. I like its sound and feel. The sentences finish up regardless if there is a question or not rather then down like an English period.

Touring around the markets with Laura and Dani I’ve been seeing lots of new vegetables and fruits but I don’t remember enough of those names so I will save those explanations for a later date-maybe when I try to start cooking with them. Hopefully there will be a plane coming out tomorrow (I just hope the person who needs medivacced isn’t too hurt...it’s seems cruel to pray for a medivac), if not there is a body that needs to be flown out of the interior on Monday so we will probably get to Mabaruma then at the latest.

Arrived in Georgetown!

Dani and I at the mission house in Georgetown-about 2 blocks from Davis Memorial Hospital

After a few delayed flights but no major mishaps I landed in Guyana this morning just before 7 local time. Made it through customs no problem thanks to the help of an Adventist who works there. LaBore's had given him a heads up that I was coming and he recognized the confused look on my face and the fact that I was the only young white female around. He pointed me in the right directions and I collected my bags and met Laura, Dani, and Smokey outside with no problems. We then traveled from the airport to the mission house where I am now. So far so good! Guyana is very green, humid, but not unbearably hot. We will be here in Georgetown today running some errands. There isn't a Wings for Humanity plane here right now; Laura and Dani hitched a ride when WFH came out for a medivac so we are waiting to see if there will be one tonight or tomorrow or if someone will need to make a special trip out to pick us up tomorrow afternoon. I'm glad for the chance to rest. Time to eat something, and maybe take a nap. Dani wants to take me to Hibiscus, a craft fair/market with AmerIndian crafts this afternoon.

Where in the world?

Many thanks to Zachri Jensen for creating the snazzy map above. To be quite honest I had no idea where Guyana was when I first heard of it. I thought it was in Africa. Turns out it isn't, Guyana is in South America. It was a British and Dutch colony but gained independence in 1966. The country's official language is English which should make my trip and stay a little easier. Next Tuesday (September 20) I will start my trip to Mabaruma. I will fly from Sacramento to Portland, from Portland to Seattle, Seattle to New York, and arrive in Georgetown (Guyana's capital) Thursday morning. I plan to meet Laura LaBore at the airport and will complete the rest of my journey to Mabaruma on the mission plane.

Reflection

To reflect:

-show an image of

-embody or represent in a faithful or appropriate way

-bring about a good or bad impression of

-think deeply or carefully about

-Oxford Dictionary of English

A mirror is a fantastic reflector. Every image that crosses its face is crisply portrayed back; sharp, full of detail, an accurate representation of what the mirror sees. As Christians, we could perhaps call reflection our greatest task. Reflection of the life and love of Jesus. Unlike mirrors however, we are not called to be passive, one dimensional reflectors of a picture or scene. We are called to engage, to live, and to reflect in our full bodies that which we see in Christ. To portray in the big picture and in the details the love that we see in God. 

A reflection is just that. Not the source, but a tribute to the source.

Welcome to my blog. I am going to Mabaruma, Guyana to homeschool two missionary kids. Their parents fly planes for Adventist World Aviation in, out, and around Region One of Guyana doing medivacs and other needed services. Guyana is in Northern South America-a little North of Brazil. I will leave home September 20 and plan to be gone 8 months. I’m excited, but nervous; scared, but hopeful. It promises to be an experience like no other. Please pray with me as I reflect, and learn to merely Reflect more fully.