It’s been awhile since my last update. Turns out that the second half of August, and the first half of September have been rather uneventful. My schedule suddenly became very open as classes were on summer break, and the clinic was even slower than normal. Now I’ve been here almost eight months, and I’m still adjusting to the vast differences of life in Guyana. Just when I thought my body was acclimating to the tropical environment, the weather got even more hot and humid. I remember when I was a kid, I used to think how amazing it would be if summer lasted all year. And after being here this long, I can tell you that the magic is gone. In Oregon we have very distinct seasons. But as October approaches, I find that the weather is exactly the same as it was when I arrived in February. Maybe just a little hotter. I thought I was acclimating, but last week I got back from a morning at the clinic, and my shirt looked like this.
I know many questions are running through your head, dear reader. Are those really sweat stains? Did he go running in a dress shirt? Was it raining in patches? The answer is yes to the first of the above questions. That shirt was adorning my person for only a few short hours. I was working up at the clinic, and the nurses and I were walking around the neighborhood distributing flu vaccines. Despite my relatively active lifestyle, a slow saunter around the immediate vicinity caused me to transform my dress shirt into an extra salty Rorschach test. Even the waistline is soiled in the Everglades like mess of my equator. This is not an altogether uncommon occurrence. But this shirt was a particularly fantastic example due to the contrast of sweaty region to not sweaty. I’m also fortunate enough to have a Laundromat around the corner from our house. So once a week, I take a big bag of clothes over to my buddy James, and he washes, dries, and folds my clothes. Lazy? Perhaps. But truth be told, I hate doing laundry by hand. I hate it with the fiery passion of a thousand white hot suns. Some volunteers hate cooking, so they pay someone for that service. As we all know, that is not a problem for me.
Other changes since my last update…After almost six months, I finally got a haircut. Fear not though! My housemate Chelsea performed the aesthetic alteration this time. So I don’t have to sport that whole “Eastern Block” look that was my cross to bear during my first couple months here. That decision came after a particular incident a few weeks ago. Initially, I had planned to just let my hair grow for about a year, just to see how it looked. I made it halfway. After six months, the humor of it was lost on me. It wasn’t even that funny anymore. I started to share a frightening resemblance to Tom Hanks in CastAway. After he’d been on the island for four years, mind you. I would never compare myself to the argyle-sweater sporting mid-90s Tom Hanks. Anyway, so the hair was not only ridiculously hot, but I looked so deliciously white trash that I couldn’t stand it anymore. But I was still pretty determined, until this happened:
At the clinic one afternoon, it was still extremely slow. I was sitting in a small room with a fan, reading a book. In walks one of the younger nurses, and before I can finish the sentence I’m reading, I feel fingers start fondling my golden locks. I pause, place my book down, and without a word, give one of those looks that says “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” She looked at me, stopped moving her hand, than said “Oh, is this not ok?” My mind raced over a variety of response from the crass to the combative before I settled on “I’d prefer you didn’t, but do what you have to.” Fortunately, she caught on to the underlying message, and quickly stopped. But not before exclaiming “YOUR HAIR IS SO SOFT!!!” I concurred, then she reached up to feel her own hair, a look of longing on her face as she contemplated the difference in hair types. I decided right then that a good shearing was required.
BEHOLD!!
Before...
After...
With my new ‘do came a new schedule. Classes have finally started back up again, so I’m finding that I have more to do finally. Going from the slow start up to busy then back to minimal activity was a difficult transition. This month I’m reviewing materials from the last semester that students still had issues with. Then come October, the next semester officially starts. I will be helping teach a class on pathologies and disease states as well as a class on health assessment. Or, if things go as they did last semester, I’ll be writing the curriculum and tests for the pathology course as well!
Not everything is going as smooth as the teaching job however. Including in the kitchen. My diet down here has become predominately vegetarian since moving to Guyana. Not only am I extremely cautious about eating meat in a third world country, (for a variety of reasons I won’t get into here. But let’s just say the livestock wanders around the streets…and it’s true that you are what you eat) but it can be quite expensive as well. Now, down here, I put hot sauce on EVERYTHING. I’ve always been a big fan of spicy foods. The Guyanese have a sauce they make which they simply call pepper. It is aptly named, and on the upper end of the spicy spectrum. If you get a little too overzealous with it, you’re guaranteed to be singing “Ring of Fire” for your next few bathroom visits. Anyway, the climate here is just as hot as the food, and it’s rare that I’m wearing more than just shorts while at home. As I was making some food the other night, I opened a brand new bottle of pepper. My attention wasn’t entirely on the bottle, and as the cap started to reveal the opening to the bottle, a Vesuvius like eruption cause pepper to spray ALL over everything, including your shirtless narrator. I tried to put the cap back on, but there was a substantial amount of pressure, and the sauce looked as though it were boiling. I finally managed to get the cap secured, and sat in wonder at this bizarre chemical reaction. It took a few minutes to clean up, and I finished cooking. But, about ten minutes later, that all too familiar burning sensation started emanating from my torso. I had cleaned the pepper off myself quickly, but the volume and concentration apparently cared not for my expedient sanitation. Lucky for you all, I had to foresight to document the injury. Those are not stretch marks from a girthy meal, but chemical burns from hot sauce.
I've been keeping busy though. Finished what I can only guess is my 18th or 19th book since arriving here. And, fellow volunteers Jason, Kirsten, and myself have spent the last few months training for a half marathon! It takes place the first weekend in December...In beautiful Barbados! So if you happen to find yourself in that part of the Caribbean in early December, you'll have to let me know!
Hope you all are well!
~Tony
Oh, and since I privatized my blog, only those who have invites can view it. So if you have anyone who used to enjoy it, but was inadvertently shunned by me, then let me know! I'm happy to send them an invite if you send me their email...
