Happy International Volunteers Day!

Here is a passage from one of my more frivolous reads:

“’Yes, but I’ve found most people harbor dreams of a more exciting vocation.  The one that’s too crazy to ever actually do.  The one that’s too hard, too much work, or just too ‘out there.’ The gas station attendant who dreams of being a rock star.  The accountant who wishes she’d taken art history classes instead of statistics.  People put their dreams off, either because they think it’s impossible, or because they’ll do it ‘someday.’’”

Don’t wait to make time for your dreams.  Just do it.  Follow your heart, and it’ll never lead you astray.

First and foremost, never undervalue what you have to offer.  Too many times I’ve heard people say that they don’t have the training, or the skills to be able to follow their dreams.  You have the passion, and that passion will evolve into the technical ability that will allow you to do the work that fulfills your desires. 

Did I think I could teach literacy to children with special needs? Never. But my dream was to serve abroad while learning about the realities of development.  By golly, I’m going to try my best to teach these kids that the gibberish symbols they see every second of their lives mean something.

Did I ever think that I would have the opportunity to teach dance and choreograph to my heart’s content? No. No. No. and No.  I was never the dancer.  I love dancing, but I don’t have the years of ballet that coincide with adult dance enthusiasts.  However, living in Grenada and continuing my exploration in movement has helped me realize that dance will always be a part of my life.

I don’t mean to say that my life is an example of perfection.  Rather, I want to encourage you, especially you younger siblings, to reach for your dreams.  Even though they may seem impossible, or wrong, just go for it.   It’s scary.  Following my dreams into international development is one of the scariest things I’ve done, but every moment of my life is so extremely satisfying that I will never settle for some half-life that doesn’t engage my passion and curiosity.  I’m not thinking about what I wish I would have done, but am expanding my goals and reaching out to the seemingly impractical to see what I can make of my life.

 No one is ordinary, so don’t force yourself to fit in. Dream big, and live large because if you have the will you will find the way.

Arushi, Mihir, Aarya: This one’s for you.  Don't be afraid to defy gravity. (See you 10 days!)

Existence

I recently finished reading a monster of a book titled Shantaram.  It’s a fictional recollection of an escaped convict’s experiences as he attempts to build an anonymous life for himself in India.  Through the entire 900+ pages, he struggles to redefine his identity.  Prison and the events that prelude his arrest severed his human relationships.  When he arrives in India all he has is his own self.  He cannot identify through love, country, or achievement.  Through the novel he overcomes this isolation by realizing that the power to live, experience, and love comes from within.  Everything you do as you breathe and exist on this planet impacts other lives and situations and has the capacity to define who you are.  Your choices make you.

Recently, I've been reflecting on the idea of development work sponsored by the international community.  I believe in it, but sometimes I wonder about the effectiveness of outsiders attempting to influence change.  Every moment of our lives have the potential to either create positive or negative consequences, and quite honestly, we don’t know where the ball will drop.  Even the best intentions and proven techniques can be successfully implemented in one community, but fail miserably in another.  Life’s kinetic variables can change the smallest details and overturn the precious equilibrium we identify as normalcy. 

With that in mind, how do you work as a development worker?  You realize that your presence is equivalent to a scientific variable and live with a freedom that invites influence and idea.  Or, at least that’s what I’m attempting right now as this year comes to a close and a new one begins.  November might be too early for end of the year reflections, but my Peace Corps boat ended up in a storm this week and I’m trying not to drown.

The Adventures of Phoebe & Shruti

I digress from my professional and personal reflection, but I promise it’s a good story.

What can I tell you about last night?  Well, it started off pretty good.  Made a whole tray of egg muffins, (a week’s worth of breakfast), skyped with my family, read a few pages from the GRE book and made egg-less chocolate chip cookie dough for dinner.  Pretty fantastic. The not so fantastic part: being locked out of my bedroom and bathroom for half the night.  

11 pm:  Muffins baked, family addressed, books read, cookie dough devoured, check, check, check, and check.  Bed time!

Feed the cat

Turn off all the lights.

Lock the doors

Alright, Tuesday, I’m ready for you!

Attempt to get into bedroom, no such luck.

The door’s locked?

How?

When?

WHY!

Plan A:  Key, must find the key.  Wait, what key? Okay, don’t have the key to the door.

Plan B:  Try the door to the guest bedroom.  Locked, no key. Okay.

Plan C:  Go outside, and open bedroom door on the veranda. Keys to said door locked in bedroom. Shit.

12 am:  call Megan (PCV) Help! Cultural dilemma! Landlady didn't give me all the keys to the doors! Grenadians go to sleep at 8 pm, do I call her and wake her up? YES! Forget the bed, you’re going to need the bathroom. Great, so much for being a mature adult responsible enough to have her own apartment.

…15 calls to landlady….still locked out. Okay, well, I have my computer, and the internet works.  Google will help me!

Search:  How to unlock bedroom door without key (Google’s awesome)

Research

Attempt to dig a butter knife into the door latch. Fail. Fail. Fail.

Call landlady. Success! She has the keys!

Thanks for coming over at 1 am! How did you do this!! I don’t know!  Help me fix it!

No luck.  She doesn’t have the keys either. Attempt to break into my bedroom from the veranda. Banging arouses neighbor, Junior.

Junior: Shruti, what’s going on? Locked out. Great, do you need my help? YES! Bring your crowbar!

Continue to attempt to break into my bedroom from outside, no luck.

Alright, let’s go back inside.

Attempt to wrench inside door with crowbar.  No success.

Decided:  drill hole in wall to unlatch door. Okay, Junior, go get your tools.

Wait! I like that door! Don’t destroy it! Back to butter knife technique. Nudge. Nudge. Nudge. Click!

2 am:  Success!

Thank you Google.

Surreal Experiences

One of my favorite things about being a Peace Corps volunteer is that about eighty percent of my job depends on what I want to do.  Peace Corps assigns a primary worksite, for me this is the elementary school where I am starting a remedial reading program, but beyond that I have the freedom to do whatever I want.  As many of you know, giving me this much free time is a bad idea.  I’ve been a volunteer for a month and have already met the right people.  Let’s start the story telling!

The last four weeks have been extremely hectic.  Work has been pretty relaxed.  I’ve spent the last three weeks administering the GRS, Grenada Reading Screen, to recommended students.  The screen is a pretty cool test put together by former Peace Corps volunteers and Grenada’s Ministry of Education.  Essentially, it evaluates the student’s reading capacity based on oral vocabulary, auditory and visual discrimination, letter identification, phonemic awareness, reading comprehension, and writing.  Yeah, it’s a lot for the kids to take in, but it helps me decide which of the fifty recommended kids need the most attention.   Picking fifteen kids out of a pool of fifty makes me feel extremely guilty, I mean who am I decide which kids qualify?  But, the decisions have been made, and I officially started teaching! How crazy is that? Parents, watch out, this PCV is going to make your kids work, work, work!

Besides work, I’ve been lucky enough to meet the most wonderful woman on the island, and she’s keeping me busy.  When I first got my invitation to serve in Grenada, my dad went crazy researching, and was ecstatic to come on across this organization, http://www.indo-grenadian.org/, The Indo Grenadian Heritage Foundation.  Guess who’s serving on the board? Yup, wonderful woman friend!   She herself is a descendent of a Grenadian Indian and has made it her personal goal to preserve and promote Grenada’s Indian heritage.  One of her many projects on island include organizing an Indian classical dance classes in Manipuri, via the Indian Embassy in Trinidad & Tobago.  While the prevalence of these classes depends on the Trini calendar of events, the Grenadian women enjoy each and every class and are committed to learning the intricate technique.

In addition to taking these classes I’ve already had the opportunity to perform.  I still can’t believe how fast everything happened.  On 1 May 1857, the ship Maidstone landed in Irwing Bay, Grenada carrying the very first batch on Indian indentured servants.   These were the ancestors of the most the Indians living in Grenada today.  The Indo-Grenadian Heritage foundation annually celebrates their arrival and history.  This year they hosted a fundraiser lunch and performance and erected a plaque on the beach where the Maidstone landed.  What I didn’t realize when I agreed to put together a few pieces for this event was how official the event was.  We danced for the Prime Minister of Grenada, Grenada’s opposition leader, and the High Commissioner of India to Grenada, wowzers.  Furthermore, being surrounded by a population of Indian Grenadians was mind boggling.  I mean you could really see a mix of the cultures.  The traditional Indian culture manifested in the clothes and rituals, but the Grenadian was present in the names and society.  This group of people is definitely Grenadian, but they share the same history that I do.  We’re from the same people yet have culturally evolved in two distinct ways.  I love how much of an effort is being made to preserve the Indian ancestry and can’t wait to become a part of the endeavor.  I do have to say that I am grateful for the presence of Indian food and spices.  It has made transitioning a little bit easier because it’s like I’ve brought a little bit of home here with me.

Callaloo, Mango, & Lentils:  What I've been eating for the past month

Irwing Bay in Sauters, St. Patrick's, Grenada Where the Maidstone first landed bringing Indian indentured servants to Grenada

High Commissioner 

Prime Minister of Grenada Hr. Tillman Thomas

Sam, a fellow PCV recruited to perform & Debolina Paul, our Manipuri instructor  in front of the newly erected plaque

The Beginning of Life as a Peace Corps Volunteer

Who thought that I would actually be living my dream life after graduation? The idea of becoming a Peace Corps volunteer has been growing in my mind for years.  Over those years, never once did I stop to consider that becoming a volunteer is one of my more attainable goals.  Even now I cannot wrap my mind around the fact that, yes, I, Shruti, am an official sworn-in volunteer. True, I did not imagine that I would be serving anywhere close to the Caribbean.  Instead, I had pictured myself standing outside of a thatched roof house wearing ethnic clothing, lugging water home from a well, and hopelessly attempting to learn a new language in a country no one at home had heard about.   Although this part of my dream will forever remain in my imagination, I’ve come to realize that while many people have a hard time imagining the Eastern Caribbean as a developing region, there is much to be done here.

I am nowhere close to figuring out what these next two years are going to mean for me, but I have an ever growing list of things that I want to get done.  Let me give you an idea of what my life looks like right now.  My primary worksite is a public Roman Catholic primary school right across the street from my house.  My first day at work was Monday.  When I arrived, the principal gave me a list of students recommended by teachers for a remedial class.  Therefore, I am spending this week administering a standardized reading screen developed by a previous Peace Corps volunteer and Grenada’s Ministry of Education.  It’s a rather tedious task, but it will help me organize my classes and create a curriculum.

I’m having a hard time fitting into this teacher role since it is so far off my career path, but over the last couple of days I have realized how much reading matters.  It’s one of those things that I've taken for granted.  We all know that learning to read is important, but have you ever sat down to really consider how essential it is?  Every aspect of my life, from professional to personal is driven by my ability and love for reading and writing.  I read all the time, at all hours of the day, and in all settings regardless of whether or not it’s appropriate.  I read recipes to cook, I read signs to get around, I read books to learn, I read newspapers to stay connected, and I read the shampoo bottle to keep me entertained while I shower.  It’s like breathing. You do it without even realizing. If I can teach these kids how to read, I will be opening their lives to so much. It’s crazy scary how much of an impact one person can have at a micro level.  Hopefully, this one person’s idealism will practically manifest itself during the next two years.


Ready,  Get Set, & Go!

EC 84 Volunteers after swearing in

The White Factor

Last week I had a revelation:  I literally do not look like I belong here.  Never in my life have I felt as exposed as I do now.  I mean, back in the states I am the brown girl, the Indian, but it doesn’t make me feel unusual.  Even though I was surrounded by Americans with white skin, I felt like I belonged.  I guess it’s just something I grew accustomed to as I was growing up.  When I was traveling in Peru & Nicaragua I felt fairly comfortable.  I am brown.  They are brown.  I speak Spanish.  They speak Spanish.   It all worked out.  I could blend in fairly easily while my American friends received the uncomfortable attention, Thanks Emma!

In Grenada, I stick out like a sore thumb.  It’s crazy to think about physical appearance here.  Most of the population comes from African roots, but, surprisingly, there is a large Indian presence on the island (the result of indentured servitude).  Everyone’s brown!  There’s even a kid in my class who’s named Sunil Ram.  You think I would fit in.  Unfortunately, that’s not the case.  I never, in a million years, thought that I would hear, “eh you! White Girl!”  I’ve heard this statement a couple of times now and every time I feel like I’ve run into a brick wall…white girl? Me? What? Hello, identity crisis.

I don’t want to be the “white” girl. The American.  The outsider.  However, that is my reality.  I’ve always had a problem with people going to volunteer abroad, spending some time working on pre-planned, distinctly American projects, and coming home happily satisfied by serving the poor in a developing country.  Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate their thoughts and the opportunities that their projects have provided.  What bothers me is the fact that these outsiders found a location, identified a problem, and fixed it.  What about what the community wants?  How do the people living in that environment view their existence?  What do they want to change?  How can the local population noy have any say in how development happens in their own community? 

…this is why I’m having such a hard time being the outsider, the “white” girl, the American.  I don’t want to be any of those things while I’m here.  I want to become a part of the community so that I can be the “co-facilitator” (fellow trainees, how many times have we heard that word in the last five weeks?)  I don’t want to be here working on projects I think would better equip Grenada.  I want to help them identify their needs and implement a program that addresses those needs; to help them help themselves.  I want their thoughts and their manpower at work, so that when I leave, the change continues to occur.  Unfortunately for me, I am the outsider and that’s something I’m just going to have to live with.

On a brighter note, here are pictures some of the other trainees have taken during the last couple of week.  My camera had a software issue and had to be reformatted so I lost a lot of pictures, but I’ll be sure to make up for it!

At Fort George after training.  (picture from Cara)

Some of the trainees went on a hike with an hiking group on the island. (Cara)

On the hike we at Cocoa! Chocolate is made from those white seeds.  You can suck on the slimy seeds, but if you try to eat it its super bitter. (Cara)

This was our destination.  We walked right through it.  Amazing & ouch. (Josh)

Enjoying the view from yet another Fort in St. George. (Megan)

Let’s Talk About This

Busses:  If you want to go anywhere in Grenada, you have to flag down one of these bad boys.  It’s a relatively easy system with just one flaw--all of the busses are privately owned.  This means that there is no schedule therefore, no dependability.  My particular bus route is a bit of a pain.  I live out of the way and most of the busses on my route like to stop before they get anywhere close to my little village.  So, before I get on the bus I ask the driver if he’s headed to my town and, of course, they all say yes.  Unfortunately, they all don’t really mean it.  They like to drop you off at the “end of the line” and tell you to catch the next one.  Now this gets crazy real fast because more often than not the “end of the line” is super sketch.  Fortunately, this has only happened to me once in the last three weeks…unfortunately, that was on day one so now I’m just not a happy bus person.  My point is this:  I have found 3 fabulous dance opportunities and cannot brave the busses…lame. Yes. I know.   One day I’ll figure it all out and be able to dance, but I don’t think that’s going to be for a while. So, if you have any spare courage, send it my way.  It will be much appreciated J

When you move beyond this rather frustrating flaw, you can see that the busses are a great way to immerse yourself into Grenadian culture.  Most of what I have learned about the Grenadian life has come from my bus rides to and from town.  The sense of community never fails to astound me.  I think it’s because of where I’ve grown up.  Suburban North Carolina just doesn’t connect at that level.  People get on these vans without any idea of where they’re going, but the whole busload of people, smashed together and sweaty, will look out for them and stop the bus where they’re supposed to get off.  Many times the bus veers of track to drop women with babies and seniors right in front of their door step.   I’ve even been on one that picked up a blind woman and dropped her off way out of ways, free of charge.  People here understand people and unfortunately, I think that’s one of the strangest things to get used to.  I’m so used to being ignored. I mean, think about it. When you walk down the street do you say “good afternoon” to anyone? Sometimes, we even purposely dig around in our bags for our cell phones so we don’t have to say “hi” to someone.  Think about it…

Ps.  Dad, we had some sugar cane today! I thought about you.  I don’t understand why eating sugarcane isn’t a thing in the states.  It is AMAZING.   Put it on your bucket list, you won’t be disappointed.