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.
