My (accidental) new haircut and other whimsical tales

It occurred to me the other day that in a tropical environment such as Guyana, a mere 5 degrees north of the equator, long hair is much less of an aesthetic choice, and more of a biological sweat mop. With this epiphany, I said to myself "Self, let's give ourselves a trim." I was given one of those electric razors with the adjustable guard just before I left. Employing this implements ideal combination of fixed lengths and cutting, I went over these coveted golden locks. I decided that the first run was still a little too long. So, I adjusted the guard, and commenced phase two of operation de-shag. I put the razor to the back of my head and moved it upward, only to hear that grinding sound of fiber-binding-in-metal typically reserved for mulchers and wood chippers. After the aforementioned adjustment, little did I know that the piece which locks the guard in place had broken. I pulled the razor away from my head, and along with it came enough hair to knit a doll sweater of substantial size. As I reached up to assess the damage, my fears were confirmed. I had clearcut a less than subtle area just behind and above my ear. With waning daylight, I made a game time decision to do the full monty and get all my hair the same length. Then...the battery died. I went to bed sporting a lovely patchwork quilt aesthetic similar to what you'd expect had a palsey victim cut my hair with a machete. It's all fixed and short now, but I'll have to put sunscreen on my alarmingly reflective noggin for the next couple weeks.

Other than that, things are good. I did manage to accidentally pee on a bat yesterday. And not the wooden sporty kind. I mean the leathery, squeaky, taking sonar images of your junk flying kind. The health volunteers were taken on a field trip to the jungle for a lesson on medicinal plants and herbs and such. There was not so much learning, but more wandering and sweating. But, after all that, we stopped off in a smal communal area for some fresh juice. Before jumping back into the bus for the bumpy ride, I deemed it necessary to bleed the bladder. In such a rural environment, it's either go on a tree, which my counterparts may not have appreciated, or the pit latrines. I chose the latter. As I stood there doing my thing and looking into the black, excrement filled abyss, I thought how funny it would be if something flew out at me. Then I heard the high pitched squeak that I've associated with nocturnal flying hunters, and my amusing little daydream came to fruition. I saw the bat dart across the opening of the latrine hole, and DEFINTELY pegged it with my sweet stream of relief. Giggling and trying to expedite the process, I stood there yelling "Tony there's a bat in here hurry up!" And it gave me one more dive bomb as at flew out of the opening then right back in again. I kicked the door open and ran back to the van, laughing uncontrollably and realizing when I got back to the van that my fly was still down. Ah well, such is life.

Other than that things have been pretty routine. I've got a just a couple more weeks with my host family, who have been great. I have a room upstairs right next to my host sister and her husband. They're super cool people and have taught me a lot. One of their defining characteristics, however, is their membership to the Seventh Day Adventist church. Which they attend every Saturday...Dare I say religiously!? Now, ever since I've been here, each morning I've been awakened by docile, atonal incantations of hymnals sung while seated on the couch just outside my door. When I first arrived, this didn't usually start until around 5:45 am because my host sister Shelley was on maternity leave. Now that leave has ended and the praising now starts promptly at 5:15. This is usually a rather amusing situation, and once or twice, I've ruined the sanctity of the moment with my morning bathroom visit. But when nature calls, one must be punctual. Expecially when it's curry calling collect from your sigmoid colon. Their church is constantly giving them new, exciting, and often obscure literature. Just last week, I came across a title that made me chortle with glee. The alliteration is my favorite part, and I was so tickled I took a picture. It was called "The Lady, her Lover, and her Lord" I can only imagine what lessons lay dormant in so rich a text. But I guess I'll never know.

I did get my site placement a few days ago. I'll be living in a city in the center of the country called Linden. There will be three other volunteers living with my in a large house, each in our own apartment. Should be a nice mix of Guyana and America. It's very likely that we'll get internet connection at the house, so the updates will be more frequent and even more whimsical. This will likely be my last update as a Peace Corps trainee. Then I'll be a fully fledged Peace Corps volunteer after I get sworn in. Hope you all are well and good!

One love,

Tony

This one time, I swam to Brazil

For serious, I actually swam across a river that separates Guyana and Brazil. Now I can officially say that I've been to Brazil. How did I come to encounter such a river, you may ask? Well, as you may remember from my last posting, I spent a week with a serving volunteer in Region 9 of Guyana, which is the southwestern most section of the country. The land changes from coastal jungle to flatland savanna with gorgeous mountains encircling the villages. The volunteer I stayed with has a house in the city of Lethem, right on the border, however, we spent most of our time out in the bush. No joke, I slept in a mud hut in a hammock. It was better than whatever arbitrary holiday you deem to be your favorite. Speaking of holidays, Guyana has 13 national holidays. I kid you not. Thirteen days a year, nobody goes to work. Mostly they're religious holidays. For example, two weeks ago was Mashramani. It's a word from the native people of Guyana that means "celebration after a great harvest." Now, it hasn't rained here since November, so the harvest really hasn't even happened yet. But the Guyanese didn't seem to think that was reason enough to forgo their inebriated adventures. Then, the following Saturday, it was a Muslim holiday celebrating the birth of the prophet mohammed. I was unaware that Muslim holidays are all based around lunar cycles. Egg on my face. But I digress.

Region 9 is truly something to behold. I much prefer it to the coastal areas of the country. It's the first place I've been here that I actually feel an attachment to. I also prefer the small AmerIndian (native) communities to the cities. The pace of life is much slower, the people are incredibly friendly, and thatched roof mud huts are more than a little endearing. I rode for two hours in a range rover to this village, bouncing and bumping all the way. When I got there, I oversaw the construction of a well. Apparently they assume that white people coming into the village know everything. I reassured them that my knowledge is severely lacking in many places, however, if they could provide the legos, I could totally build a scale model.

My second day there, I watched a farmer named Rudy get some fresh milk, to which he then offered, and I happily accepted. Milk straight from the teat is, shall I say, titillating? Anyway, his wife, Lucy, continued cooking and made me breakfast. So to even out the deal, I rode one of the guy's horses out to his farm at the base of the mountains and helped him out for the day. That night, we were going to kill a chicken for dinner. But Lucy had bought a rooster especially for us to eat. So when the rooster was caught, Lucy proceeded to kill it...With its own feather. I'm completely serious. I have pictures. She pulled one of the wing feathers, tilted its head forward, and poked to base of the feather into the brain. It. Was. Crazy. And he was indeed, quite delicious. Not to mention that fruit trees are EVERYWHERE. And they bear fruit constantly, because the weather allows it. So we picked young coconuts, sliced them open with a machete, and drank fresh coconut water mixed with fresh lime juice. Simply amazing.

Needless to say, I much prefer living in the remote setting. I'll know my final site placement on Friday, so I can give at least a general description of where I'll be and my living situation and so on and so forth.

As of Sunday, I'll have been here for one month. Only 25 more to go!

One love,
Tony