Camp

Last week was wonderfully tiring! We had our day camp, which was themed "Protect our environment, our future depends on it". It was held at Violet Petty Primary school in Shelagh's village of Lodge. Each day we had kids from all over the island, about 140 total, come from 9 am to 3 pm.

The first half of the day was always a bit educational. There were speakers from the various branches of the government ministries who talked about what they do to help the natural environment of St. Kitts. There were some field trips to the bottling company and the landfill, and the Ag Dep labs. I don't think the kids were too impressed though, and I don't blame them. It all seemed a bit boring for young kids. They were more into activities that got them dirty and involved. They mainly looked forward to crafts in the afternoons, which were facilitated by Peace Corps volunteers. We showed them the glory of paper mache and how to make egg cartons into bugs and flowers. We taught them how to make paper from old newspaper and what wonderful window decorations you can make from plastic bottles. It was all good dirty fun!! I always ended up with paint or something else in my hair and on my clothes by the end of the day.

The main craft project that came out of this was a mural that the kids helped fellow PCV Shelagh paint. It is on a cobblestone wall right off the main road. A project that will hopefully be there for quite a while and something the kids can be proud of and say they had a part in. But I must say, there is quite a funny story that goes with it as well!!

On Thursday, the children all went on various hikes around the area. Fellow PCV, Bob, was with one group. I think it was the younger group of 7-9 year olds. Anyhow, when they were returning back from their hike, Bob took them by the wall that at that point had only the sketching and some painting of the mural done. Bob explained what it was going to say (it had the camp theme on it and a picture of the ocean and St Kitts) and how Shelagh and the older kids were working together on it. Well, one little kid, Kalvin (8), was standing next to Bob with his cricket bat resting on his shoulder and staring at the wall. After Bob explained the wall, Kalvin looked up at him with quite the serious face and said, "Seems like a big waste of time to me Bob". This took Bob off guard and he just chuckled and shook his head, but it was quite the comic relief for the rest of us volunteers that were back up at the school, and whom the story was promptly retold to. This is now a very favorite quote among all the volunteers, and I don't think Kalvin understands the lasting impression he has made!!

I put up some pictures of the camp in an album on my photos link. You should definitely have a look at them. I am also posting this video of 2 boys from the camp that showed off their dancing skills at the talent show the last day of our camp. Enjoy!!

Boy steals show

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No more turtles...

I don't know what to do with my nights anymore!! The St Kitts Sea Turtle Monitoring Network wrapped up its Leatherback nesting season this weekend. For the last couple of months I'd go out with this group from 8 pm - 4 am twice a week, in search of one of St. Kitts most fascinating creatures. We'd walk up and down the Keys beach (over a mile long!) looking for any sign of a sea turtle's emergence. Once we found a girl we would tag her and collect data on things such as carapace length and width, number of eggs laid, and location of nest. Blood samples would also be taken by Dr. Stewart (director of the network) for a study she is doing on hormone levels within the turtles.

On average for most nights we would see 2-3 girls, but in the beginning and here towards the end of the season we were lucky to even see one!! Even if we never saw a girl I still enjoyed spending my nights out there. We'd walk the length of the beach, and if we had no sign of a turtle, we'd sit for about 4o minutes or so. By 2 or 3 am I'd be napping during those stops, but early in the night I'd just be awake chatting with the other volunteers or staring up in the sky for glimpses of shooting stars. So take note those of you who want to visit... if you come between April and July to this tiny island of mine, be sure to make it out onto the beach with us.

As for what to do with myself now that I have more free time... camps!!! I have a camp this week based around an environmental theme, then the following week is the sports camp. Then after that is the sea turtle camp with the SKSTMN. I am also still working at the Heritage Society. I had a meeting with Kate Orchard, the Environmental Coordinator for the SCHS yesterday. We were looking at writing a proposal for projects with the SCHS and Brimstone Hill Fortress National Park. It would include creating a flora and fauna display at Brimstone Hill, along with an herb garden, and purchasing additional supplies to work on the herbarium located at SCHS. If we can get it approved before the end of this month I can hopefully be working on it come August, and subsequently be real busy for my last year here on the island. Yay!!!

My Sundays

I have yet to really discuss some of the trials and tribulations of being a Peace Corps volunteer here in the Caribbean, and I am not sure if I can speak for the other islands, but as far as here in St. Kitts our biggest challenge, and want, is making friends and feeling accepted within our communities. One smile, one good morning, or just one happy encounter can erase at least a week’s worth of discriminatory slurs, vulgar comments, and unprovoked harassment. It’s what we cling to when we feel like it’s just not worth it anymore, and for me, I feel like I am renewed for months ahead with the love and comfort I get from familiar faces I see each weekend.

My absolute favorite day has to be Sunday, and sometimes, depending on what I do the day before, Saturday can be a close rival. Most times though I am out and about on Saturdays, but if I stay home I get sucked into the local routine of cleaning house and blaring music. I joke that my Saturdays seem to be a culture exchange day. My neighbor on one side blares oldies or Christian music, while on the other side the young men like to vibrate the neighborhood to dancehall reggae or socca. Then there is little ol’ me, right in the middle, with my little speakers I brought from home. I’m usually rockin’ out to some new indie/punk band, or have some old school 90’s rock that makes me miss home. Sometimes I give up and decide to just savor some of the tunes from next door rather than listen to my familiar music. I always like it best when my neighbor Stokes and his wife and daughter get into it and sing along and clap to “Under the Boardwalk”.

Ahh, but Sunday, yes, Sunday takes the cake on all days of the week. I spend most of the day at church, nearly 5 hours total, broken up into 2 services. It sounds like a lot, and it is. I’ve gotten use to it though, and I love seeing the familiar faces of the tiny congregation. I am always greeted with a warm smile and a hug from Mrs. Davis and Mamma (my host grandmother). From Auntie Joyce, I get a grab at my waist or a pinch of my tricep flab and her subsequent “Amber, you getting fat gyal”. My host mother Betty will smile and look me up and down, and like any mother will give an honest yet gentle critique of my Sunday attire. These days I get a compliment on a shirt or skirt or the like. In the beginning I was getting some chastisement for not ironing properly or not hand washing a certain skirt so those damn lint fuzzy things don’t cling to it. I’ve improved though. Then there are the kids who just give me the usual shy smile, yet when sitting behind me will take any opportunity to touch my hair or poke at my arm. The novelty of my white skin and blonde hair is wearing off as I am no longer a stranger to them anymore, but there are still a few who are slowly opening up to me, and now feel confident to touch me and get their curiosity filled.

Church services are at 10 am and 6:30 pm. Between those times I spend my day back at the Chapman’s home because Betty doesn’t think it’s right for me to not have a proper Sunday dinner, and even on days that I’ve had to bow out of hanging with them, she has sent me on my merry way with a plate full of food. It’s pretty much my second home over there. After we eat lunch I, along with little Avi, will do dishes and clean up the kitchen. I feel it’s the least I can do after she has just filled me to the gills with food. I then head downstairs to a spare room they open up for me and lay down to read/nap while the rest of the family does the same. I get up just in time to hang out on the balcony while one of the girls is getting her hair platted or braided and chat with Charles or the girls before heading back to church.

It doesn’t hit me till that evening service about how much I love Sundays and how much of my determination to see myself through this is due to these people. I think it hits me somewhere between the vibrant choruses sung to the beat of the tambourines, or during open devotion when some of the ladies go up to sing solo their favorite hymns. I always find myself closing my eyes and letting that cool, Caribbean night breeze brush across my face while their sounds give me a new sense of home and family. It is then that I take in the day and wish for Sunday again in the morning, but I know that it will come again, if only after another 6 days of character degrading harassment, lost patience and fried nerves.