Linden Town Week And The Adventures That Follow

This last week and a half has been rife with adventures. Some of them have been quite enjoyable, minus a few bumps, some of them have been standard TIG moments, and some have just been too cute to pass up.

Last week was Linden Town week. Basically, it’s a week full of showcasing the business potential of this wonderful town. There are expos, events, pageants, and parties. As the week progressed more and more people and vendors came out from the woodworks. The Linden bus park became a haven for wandering merchants and local (Region 10) businesses. Likewise, in order to get from one side of the main drag to the other one had to weave through throngs and throngs of people.

Reminded me a little of home, actually.

We didn’t do much throughout the week, in terms of celebratory activities. Not only could we not afford to, as each event costs about $500-$1000 Guyanese, but also we just get so tired and a little lazy after we finish up work.  However, there were some highlights that I wanted to share.

First, on Saturday April 24^th we attended the finals of a football (soccer, there are no big guys with pads running around) tournament. It was called “The first annual 20/20 tournament.” At first, we had no idea what it was all about, but it was just down the street and didn’t cost too much to attend. We knew it was football, but that’s about it until we sat down at the beginning of the second half of the first game and within 15 minutes the game was over.

Dazed, and a little confused, Chels and I looked at each other and said, “Man, that is the shortest 45 minutes I’ve ever seen.” But through process of deduction I realized the 20/20 stood for 20-minute halves. So a game would only last about 50 minutes. Short, quick, and to the point. We watched two games, one of which was the final. All in all it was pretty fun.

We laid low until Wednesday when we decided to attend a pageant entitled, “Big, Bold, and Beautiful.” As the name suggests, there were big, big women competing in a pageant for the biggest, boldest, and most beautiful.  It was pretty amazing with the exception of a few hang ups. First off, the event was held on what we like to call GST or ‘Guyana Standard Time’ where the flyer says 8pm, but in reality it begins at 10pm (a quite common occurrence within the culture based upon conditioning and, of course, ticket sales). It was frustrating to sit on our butts for two hours wondering when the event would start. On the other hand, there was a band that opened up the event and played while the contestants changed into their separate wardrobes. Moreover, there were some local singers (more big women, of course), a hilarious skit done by a young adult dramatic troupe, a little ballroom dancing, and an astounding adolescent group who danced like Michael Jackson, may he live forever. (Sorry, I’ve been watching way too much Tudors). 

Just like a Miss America Pageant, there were several different categories in which the women competed. First, there was casual wear, where they created their own costumes from “local, sustainable” material. They strutted across the stage striking a pose every so often. Then, they had to demonstrate a performing art. Several of the women performed monologues that touted their appearance, empowering not only themselves, but also any who may fit into the category of what so many call “too large” (but is in fact a perfect size to be.)  Other contestants performed dances flaunting their skills, as an open challenge to any who say big women cannot dance. Quite extraordinary, really. Then came the culmination, but not the end of the pageant: the swimsuit competition. These ladies really went all out! I urge you use your imagination, and that is all I will say about that.

There was one more event of the night, but as it was the night did not go smoothly, things took longer than they had too, time flew by and at the end of the swimsuit section, it was nearing 1:15 in the morning. Our bottoms were numb and our somniferous eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep. It was a Wednesday; we worked all day, and had to work in the morning. We took our leave after seeing the first cocktail dress.

On Thursday, Chelsea and I both did Linden Town Week activities that dealt with our jobs. I attended a teacher’s workshop put on by professors and consultants of education from both New York and Florida. I found it moving that these professors addressed things I’ve observed in the numerous classrooms I’ve been in. On the other hand, I also noticed how difficult it would be to institute a “behaviour change” without constant reinforcement and professional development. Likewise, Chelsea assisted in running an outreach booth for a group called “For Children’s Sake” an NGO that works hand in hand with the Ministry of Health’s Youth Friendly Services. This group attempts to target adolescents and educate them about safe sex practices, nutrition, and their overall health. Check out the picture of Chelsea challenging a young man to demonstrate the correct usage of a female condom in order to win a prize, good times.

Before I knew it, Saturday had dawned and I woke up early to drive for 5 hours into the interior. My administrative officer had invited me along on Ministry business. We had to go to an Amerindian village called Kwakwani, which is a largeish mining town on the border of Region 10. Since there was a secondary school as well as a primary school out there, we had to drop off some exams and then drive home.

I was really excited because, not only did I get to see the small villages along the way, but also it was a beautiful drive. Although, the road was bumpy, wasn’t paved, and the red clay was muddy at times (I thought I’d have to get out and help push the van out of a quagmire a few times) the drive was well worth it. I was able to visit the schools, even though they were not in session, and meet the Head Teachers one-on-one.  They invited me at some point to stay for a week to observe their teaching practices, and when I figure it out I think I’ll take them up on the offer. Usually, when the administrative officer goes out there, he over nights, but since it was still Linden Town week, he wanted to get back that night. So we headed back as soon as our errand was finished, and I saw the largest truck I’ve ever seen. The vehicle was the size of a 3-story building and the tires were almost twice the size as me (apparently 1 tire is $US 18,000.); it was pretty awe-inspiring.

That night we went out for the first time, listened to some live music and enjoyed each other’s company, as well as the craziness of Linden Town week.

The rest of the weekend passed without incident, but Sunday was what they call The Big Lime. In true Guyanese fashion, it’s an all-night party (on a Sunday, go figure) where they shut down the main avenue to vehicles and people just “lime.” (In Creolese “to lime” means to hang out, usually with drinks).  We didn’t attend, but when I woke up at 4:30 am to go to the gym, the music could still be heard in the distance.

The next adventure happened Monday afternoon. As we were all getting home we heard a loud crash followed by constant rattling. After a quick investigation we realized it was our fridge upstairs. The motor made the strangest noises, and as night fell we feared the fridge would catch fire. So we unplugged it, the noise stopped and then plugged it back in. It seemed to be working so we went to bed (however, with her wondrous foresight, Chelsea asked Sara to take the perishables down stairs before we unplugged it, but for some reason I didn’t think about the freezer...)

Tuesday broke bright and shiny, but a huge puddle of water had formed underneath our dying fridge. Realization dawned. All the ice that had collected in the freezer had melted and was not only all over our floor, but had caused such a s flood that it even dripped down into Tony’s downstairs apartment. Dammit. Well, I was in no mood for anything to go wrong, so I was pretty upset which led to Chelsea being upset, which descended into a downward spiral. To calm, center, and separate ourselves I went for my morning run, while she went for her daily walk with Sara.

I returned with a positive mindset because I remembered ‘TIG’, of course fridges won’t always work. Heck, half of the PCVs in our group don’t even have the luxury of running water, let alone a refrigerator. It helps to put things in perspective.

Standing upon my landing, and sweating the salts of my labours, I see Sara and Chelsea walking down our road. Chelsea holds something in her hand, but she is too far for me to see clearly. She comes closer and looks into my eyes with this “Look What I Found; O So Cute Face,” and nestled against her breast is a mini, calico, kitten.

Such a pitiful thing. It is so small, shaking, crying, but so cute. We give it some milk and water; she laps them both up. She’s tiny like she was weaned from her mother too early. But our touch she craves. She rubs against us, crying, meowing like she was so grateful to be in our care. We’re grateful for her too, she brightens our grumpy morning. Sara washes her down with a wet towel, and goes and gets a can of tuna fish. The kitten eats it quickly like it’s been days since she’s fed. She doesn’t stop meowing, but it’s not such a sad wail any more.

As Chelsea tells the tale, they were meant to find The Kitten on that exact day. First, Chelsea and Sara decided to go for a longer walk than usual (which Chelsea was even waffling on for a bit since the fridge incident had caused them to leave later then planned). Then, they were walking on a different side of the road then they usually walk, for no reason in particular.  Finally, they were animatedly talking and venting about kitchen faulty appliances, when they heard the baleful cry, as if all of the kitten’s energies were going into its vocalization. They looked down towards the noise and in a muddy, grassy patch on the side of the Linden Highway the little beast sat, peering up at them pathetically. Chelsea, with no hesitation, scooped up the baby and they turned to come home. 

They named her “Rasta” because as the girls were heading home, a Rasta Man walked by and said something about the kitten. Rasta, quiet and shivering until then, looked up and meowed at the Rasta Man. Chelsea laughed that the kitten must like the Rasta dude and thought that would be a cute name, “Rasta”. Her (at least we think she is a she) name stuck.

After we got Rasta set up in our bathroom with a makeshift litter box with sand from our garden, which she took to immediately (smart cat), a cardboard box

with a pillow in it and a plate of tuna, we headed to work. All day long it poured rain. At work, I thought about the kitten, safe and sound in our house, and knew that she might not have survived this day if all the fates hadn’t guided Chelsea and Sara to her. Such a little blessing.

It’s only been one day since she has been living in our upstairs apartment but she is looking stronger already. She is so loving, constantly snuggling against us when we’re watching TV, eating, reading, or even writing. She wanders our apartment, meowing her cute meow and learning how to leap onto our couch, which is significantly taller than she is. We all think she is a wonderful addition to our clan, and cannot wait to see her grow up.

Many people may be thinking, what are we going to do with Rasta when our two-year term of service is up. Well, the truth is, we don’t know yet. We are taking care of her the best we can in Guyana. There is a shop here that we found that sells flea powder, which has already almost cured Rasta of her fleas, and we will continue to use as needed. The shop also had a de-worming pill that we can give to her when she weighs at least five pounds. We plan to take her into Georgetown to get fixed when she gets bigger too. We will look into laws for bringing her back home and decide if that is the right thing to do. Otherwise, I know that PCVs often pass pets on to each other. Rasta might remain a perpetual Peace Corps pet, especially if another PCV moves into our house when we leave. Until then, we will enjoy watching this little one grow big and strong.




T & C
Below are some more pictures from our time here: