There hasn’t been blog entry lately because our Internet has been exceedingly inconsistent. This is not only due to the weather but also because there are some problems with the provider in Town. Some parts of the days it will work just fine, but minutes go by and it stops functioning. It is really frustrating. We know we should be grateful just to have the option of the Internet, but it wears on us nonetheless.
There have been numerous adventures this last month or so. The first was going to some creeks along the highway on Father’s Day. It began with a torrential downpour as we left Linden, the miniscule drops stinging the faces and exposed skin of those who sat in the bed of the truck. However, as we gained distance from town, the rain slackened, and then ceased.
The first creek was bustling despite the overcast pall; kids splashed, adults played, and Chels and I even leapt off a diving board into the soft bedded, shallow water. As is wont to do, the rain came and went in intervals, but it didn’t detract from our fun. The second creek we went to was even more crowded. People were everywhere, a barbecue was burning underneath a tarp, keeping the now consistent rain at bay, and people played table games on both sides of the highway, defying the elements to display their enjoyment. We went home content.
Another adventure began with the colour blue. Not the blue of the skies, for again the heavens wept, but the blue of a tarpaulin covering a speedboat. Every other person in the boat, including Sara, were covered with trash bags, but lonely I, joining the Outreach late, was stuck to weather the storm with my white, blue striped shirt, while hiding under the tarp.
This was my first Outreach trip and my first time on the river since I’ve been in Linden. It was amazing. I felt so connected to the vast, placid waters (barely disturbed by the falling rain) and jungles that flew by at whatever speed our 75 hp engine pushed. The rain eventually stopped and as the skies parted the tarp completely came off. I was at peace watching the water, snapping photos of the amazing reflections; I closed my eyes, inhaled softly and smiled: I couldn’t believe this was my life.
The village eventually came into view; it was beautiful. Situated along the bank of the Demerara River there was a grassy clearing, with a solitary tree in the corner, spread out in front of the two story, two room school. The health post was nearby and as we docked the health workers made their way up its steps to the right, while I went left, towards the school.
The younger kids (nursery to second grade) inhabited the lower level, while the older kids (3-9) studied up top. It was a testing day, so there wasn’t much teaching going on but out of the 3 teachers, only one was there. This is a typical multi-grade setting. The one teacher who was there not only is the Head Mistress of the school, but also teaches grades 5 to 9—at the same time! The other two teachers were never trained at Teacher’s College so every week on a certain day they head to Linden to attend classes leaving the HM the sole instructor to not only perform her teaching duties, but also all the administrative duties that go with her being the principal. Luckily, though, on this particular day she had a parent come in and volunteer to help the younger grades while she focused on proctoring the tests to the older kids.
As I enter the school, I can’t help but wonder how any learning takes place. Each teacher has only chalkboards for each grade (sometimes on board for two grades). They put the grade specific assignment on the appropriate board, and each has difficulty teaching the whole group because all the students are at different levels. There is, I suppose, some time for the teacher to flutter around and do some re-teaching of this or that concept, but mostly the teachers rely on individual work and texts books. Now this could work, but I think that some students, even at the higher levels, have difficulty reading. So even though this HM’s 5 classes (not including the younger kids) only amount to about 33 students their reading levels are so vastly different she cannot spend time focusing on one group without doing a disservice to another. Thus, I am searching for a solution to combat these learning gaps and give every child a fighting chance.
As all good things, this one had to end. We had to leave, but I felt the day was productive: I was able to talk to a teacher on her own turf and find out what I can do to help, and just the mere fact that I came out there rather then wait in my office built up a trust with her; a step in the right direction.
Another adventure also dealt with multi-grade schools, but this one included a 9-hour bus ride. It was reminiscent of my HVV (Host Volunteer Visit) during training, but on a completely different plane.
Our education department driver came to my office in the back of the Education building and asked if I wanted to go on a trek towards Lethem to the end of Region 10. Pining away behind my desk I gratefully accepted. There were three of us in a mini bus (which is basically a 15 person large van): the driver, one of the primary school officers, and myself. The officer was up front so I shared the back with a box of papers we were suppose to drop off at the outlying schools. We drove through Linden until we came to the end of the paved road. This is where is gets interesting.
Last time I came down this road I was in a large bus, it wasn’t the rainy season, and it was the middle of night. Now, it was mid-morning, the rain was steadily falling (hence the road was a lot worse), and the mini-bus really isn’t as solid as the large bus—but notably it is much more agile. We careened one way, then the other searching for the path of least resistance. Dodging the pockmarked potholes. Slowing down, speeding up swerving this way, that way, and we weren’t alone. Other vehicles coming towards Linden were doing the same thing. We’d see them in the distance, usually a large mining truck or pick-up or an occasional car, mimicking us like a mirror: swerving, slowing, moving, bumping. Quite a spectacle. But here I must pause to pay homage…
I have the utmost respect for the drivers here. My Regional Officer, among others, like to say, “To drive here you need a P.H.D.—Pot Hole Dodging degree.” And I believe it. Going on these unpaved roads (and sometimes the “paved” roads) is like watching warriors do battle. They have to have quick reflexes, good field of vision, and extreme concentration. Half the time I can’t even see the bump coming, but I feel inertia pull me as the van slows then swerves. In war movies one always sees clouds of dirt explode upwards as pyrotechnic artillery goes off putting the protagonist in danger, here it’s the opposite. Instead of hollows forming from explosions, they’re already there waiting to catch an unsuspecting driver off his guard, then blow his tires out and leave him stranded on an abandoned road. It’s times like these that I’m glad Peace Corps doesn’t let us drive.
…So as we drive, battling rain and red clay, we stop at almost every multi-grade school from the town to the end of the region (near region 8). Some are really situated in picturesque locations, but of course I don’t have my camera with me. It takes us about 3.5 hours to get to the last school, but we’re not done yet. We turn around the way we came until we’re almost back in town (It’s about 6 pm at this point) then take a fork off the road. We head to another side of the region where the Essequibo River passes through right next to region 7, drop off our papers then finally we get go home. It was a 12+ hour day, I was exhausted and sore from the all the bouncing, but if I had to do it again I would without hesitation. Moreover, I suppose I have some sort of bragging rights. I’ve been to the 4 corners of region 10 (Near Region 6, Region 7, Region 8, and Region 4), though granted I have not spent significant time at any one place, I have seen a lot of it.
Now it’s July 4th and we’re celebrating the US’s Independence day by taking time to relax. The church across the way finished their service (so many “Alleluias”!), we’re going to make some Channa Burgers (just like home…almost), and instead of fireworks we are going to set our trash on fire, which is quite a common way to dispose refuse here. But until next time have a safe holiday!
Much Love,
T & C
PS: Shout out to my good friends of the Beat Attack Brew Shack, Great Job at the San Diego County Fair 2 Ribbons! Awesome! and some good feed back. Wish I could have been there.
Here are some random photos.
