Shower

Pop a malaria pill

Brush teeth

Apply ointments (whatever the day requires: anti-itch cream, aloe vera, talcum powder, antibiotic cream)

Blow out kerosene lamp

Climb into bed

Tuck in mosquito netting

Lay back and drift to sleep

We have a nightly routine. Of course, sometimes it varies: it might be cool enough to cuddle before drifting to sleep, we may have to find the cat, or we might be in the middle of a good book we have to finish by flashlight.

My favorite activity of the routine is tucking in the mosquito netting. We have a nice, large net provided by Peace Corps which defends us from mosquitoes – the evil, humming creatures out to destroy the world (I read somewhere, malaria may have killed up to half the humans who’ve lived on this earth). Every evening starting about 5 minutes before 6pm, the mosquitoes come out from hiding and start swarming. Their high-pitched hum provides the background music for dinner. We spray down with insect repellant.

When bedtime arrives, shifting between the often anonymous 8pm and 9pm, the mosquitoes are buzzing around our net. Tucking in the net provides a palpable sense of security – a literal shield between us and the natural world. The mosquitoes try their hardest – trying to fly through the net over and over again, much like a fly trying to get out a closed window. Fruitless effort. I rest easy in the protection of my shield-net.

In addition to mosquitoes, the net also protects us from bats. Occasionally, a bat gets into the house, seems to get very confused and spends a good time fliting here and there, often bumping in to our net. Thank goodness for the net. More painful than mosquitoes and bats, the net also protects us for all manner of dangerous Savannah critters: snakes, centipedes, spiders, and scorpions. One of my fellow volunteers has been bitten in her bed by a scorpion and…. A cockroach. Ew!

Just as a king feels protected in his castle with an impressive moat, a standing army, and mile high stone walls, so we feel secure with our simple mosquito net.

However. Occasionally, we tuck in the net and lay back to sleep. MMMMMMMMMMM…. Hums the mosquito around our head and ears. The enemy has infiltrated the fortress. Call the army. Prepare the weapons. So the battle begins.

Perhaps through a small hole the cat has clawed, or we may have left the net open during the day and a few snuck in.

The army, Chris and I, arm ourselves with mosquito spray and a flashlight. The hunt begins as we scan the net with our flashlights, searching for the hyper-haphazard insect. When one is found, one holds the light and the other sprays or claps the mosquito. She probably escapes just before the deadly attack. Again, we hunt to find the tiny adversary. If clapped, blood splatters onto the net, sheet, and hands – a tell-tale sign of his triumphs. Once sprayed, the bug falls gracefully to the mattress. We are victorious.

Yet we must find each infiltrator and bring them to justice. It is going to be a long night.

Merry Christmas!

Chris and I are celebrating, opening mom's amazing Christmas care package (Thanks, mom!), hosting Christmas brunch for some neighbors, going to the village feed up for lunch, and hopefully making a proper dinner - Sheperd's Pie and Cheesecake! :)

We are missing the cool weather, Christmas sweaters, sparkling lights, and Christmas carols. And you. Merry Christmas!

Love,

Chris and Kristin

Eggplant Choka

Boulanger Choka (Charred Eggplant)

2 medium eggplants

4 garlic cloves

1 onion

½ sweet pepper

1 tomato

Oil

Salt

1. Chop onion, garlic, pepper, and tomato.
2. Cut 2 slits in each eggplant and insert a clove of garlic in each hole.
3. Roast eggplant over an open flame or on hot surface. Turn the eggplant occasionally and cook 8-10 minutes, or until the skin of the eggplant is charred.

See how charred?

4. Peel the charred skin from the eggplant and place eggplant and garlic in a dish. Mash thoroughly.

5. Sauté onion and pepper in oil for 5 minutes. Add tomato, eggplant, and a pinch of salt.

Enjoy with pita bread or homemade roti (recipe below!)

Eat Guyanese!

I know you've been wondering what we've been eating. Here's a typical Guyanese flatbread eaten with curries. I'll be posting a delicious eggplant dish in the next few days that goes delicious with roti. Try it out!

Roti: Guyanese flat bread

2 cups flour

1 tsp baking powder

1tsp. butter

¾ cup water

Oil

1. Sift 2 cups flour and baking powder. Mix in butter.

2. Add water and knead to make a soft elastic dough. Add more flour or water if dough is sticky.

3. Divide dough into 6 parts. Roll each piece of dough thinly on a floured board, apply oil to dough surface, and sprinkle lightly with flour. With a knife, cut a line in the dough from the center straight to the edge (see photo). Start at one side of your radius and roll the dough around the circle. Seal oil inside. Allow dough to rest for 10 minutes.

4. Roll out each piece thinly again, place on a pan over medium heat. Brush with oil to prevent sticking and turn frequently.

5. Once browning begins, remove roti and clap with hands or shake in container with lid until pliable. Serve with curry or Choka.

This is Chris, shaking the roti in the container. The roti should have delicious layers, the shaking or clapping helps pull them apart - flaky goodness.
Next up, The eggplant to eat with it!

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Giving Thanks

We sat down to a lovely table, brimming with green bean casserole, creamed spinach, rice and beans, apple cider, and mango cobbler. We said grace (or thanks?) with 3 of our local friends and dug in.

Plans were to head to Lethem for Thanksgiving with fellow volunteers (a meal which boasted treats from Brazilian supermarkets and shared with plenty of laughter). Just a week and a half before, Chris and I were in Lethem to pick our grant for World AIDS Day. When it was time to leave for Aishalton, we dutifully sat in front of Shirley’s, with our bags, waiting for a vehicle. There we sat: reading and finishing books, playing cards, and trying to sleep on the short concrete wall. Cars sped by and kicked up Lethem’s red dust, which blew over and settled on us.

After waiting for 4 days, we finally left Lethem at 1am in an SUV with 5 children, 5 volunteers, and 1 driver. It was a long trip back to Aishalton, overnight and overcrowded. We were just not up for another trip to Lethem, even for a rousing Thanksgiving.

Without much foresight or planning, we set out to have a Thanksgiving at home. We couldn’t find a pumpkin, only mangoes. There were no potatoes, no chicken. So, we cooked up our rice and beans, borrowed an oven for properly baked green bean casserole and cobbler, and whipped up calilloo into something like creamed spinach.

We invited our good friends Gary and Claudine; we knew they would enjoy the meal. (Gary took an internet phone call from his brother in Montana, USA just before our meal. His brother was enjoying thanksgiving in the states with 5 Guyanese and 2 Trinidadians. Gary informed him he had been invited to Thanksgiving with Americans in Aishalton.) We also invited Nurse Bertha, the smallest yet loudest person in Aishalton. Together, we ate ‘til our “Belly Full.” I contemplated all the things I was thankful for: to be celebrating Thanksgiving with Chris, serving in the US Peace Corps, and our new friends we were beginning to understand and who were starting to understand us.

Now, as I am again in Lethem to pick up a paycheck, I browse the aisles of the shops, walk past piles of toy guns, fake Barbies, and plastic greenery with cheap red ribbons (Christmas overstock circa 1987), I am a little nervous to spend Christmas in Aishalton. It will certainly be more like a traditional Christmas (in a cheap, tacky, consumerist way) than I’d like. Chris and I have agreed: no exchanging of gifts, let’s not try to prop up the day with meaningless social norms. However the day is celebrated, I know it and future holidays will not be as real as my Thanksgiving: when I sat down and shared a meal with the Amerindians.

Waiting

I’m hot and sweaty. Granted, that is the state I am in most of the time. This time, I’m also sore. We’ve come to Lethem to pick up our grant (yay!) which we did on Wednesday and proceeded to spend the money on red ribbons, art supplies, candies, and other materials for our World AIDS Day project. Thursday we began looking for a ride and on Friday and today, we’ve been sitting outside by the road leading South. We start about 7:30am and sit around til about 3pm, I’ve just left at 4:30pm. We perch in front of a store where most vehicles stop before leaving town, to pick up a few beverages and snacks for the road, perhaps fix a few things under the hood, and head out. There are many villages south of Lethem, Aishalton is one of the furthest, so it is fairly difficult to get to. There aren’t many vehicles, and few vehicles make the trip south unless they have a darn good reason because the road is so terrible.

So far, we’ve waited about 3 days to find a ride once we really start looking. It just makes for long days: waking up early, cleaning up the apartment, downing some coffee and lugging our packs a mile to the store. There, we begin our campout, perching on a concrete wall, shifting uncomfortably from cheek to cheek all day. Today, I finished a book. Sometimes we walk around. But basically, it’s a day of sitting around, looking for a truck, Bedford, or tractor headed to Aishalton. All the other trucks, not headed to Aishalton, drive by all day, kicking up the red dust which lands all over us and our stuff.

Tomorrow we try again.

Another poem from another of my students, so glad to see them thinking! Read and enjoy, maybe share with others. Get the word out!

Discriminating Me

People are always discriminating me

Just because I have HIV

The say I’m this and I’m that

So when I go out for a walk they call me ‘skinny rat’

When my best friends see me by the road

They give me no greeting, they just shake their heads and say ugly toad

Everyone is afraid to come near me

Because I have the virus called HIV

They don’t want to see me living

And this hurts my feeling

They throw me away like dirt

And say bad things that hurt

When they see me they run and hide

They say I looked as if I had already died

These insults drive me mad

And it also makes me sad

They hate seeing me in the home

So they say to me ‘you go your way alone.’

Francis, 12 years