Tuesday, April 26, 2005

Spent a week making a preliminary visit to my future post, where I will be spending the next two years. It's a tiny village of about 500 people called St. Monica's Mission. St. Monica's is located on an Amerindian reservation in the interior of Guyana's Region 2, roughly 20 miles up the Pomeroon River from the coastline. The actual mission itself rests on a cleared hilltop on a bend of the river's southern bank. On the hill there is an Anglican church,


a primary school,



a nursery school, a health post, a community center, and a village office. The most recent addition is a small house behind the hill,



which also happens to be where I will be living for the two years of my stay.

Other than these buildings, there are only about 4 or 5 other families on the mission. To reach the other 500 members of St. Monica's Mission, one must paddle up or down the river, sometimes for an hour or two. The Amerindian people of St. Monica's are very kind, warm-hearted, and also very shy. When I visited the school, the headmaster gathered all 100 or so of the schoolchildren to welcome me. One of the little girls put a bright red lanyard that she had made around my neck. Each of the grades then gathered around the raised platform on which I sat to recite a poem or song they had practiced. One was about a snowman and another one was about good hygiene, entitled "Be Clean." After the program, during which I made a few speeches and held an impromptu "Q and A" session, I knelt by the door and shook each small child's hand as they passed. They were to introduce themselves to me, but most were too shy and avoided eye contact. In the evenings I stayed at my counterpart's home down the river. She is a Community Health Worker at the St. Monica Health Post. My first night on the Pomeroon, my hosts asked if I would like to wash up before dinner.

"Sure, that would be great," I replied, thankful for the chance to wash off the dirt and grime from the 8 hour journey we had taken from the capital. To get to St. Monica's from Georgetown, you have to take a bus, speedboat, taxi, and then another speedboat.

"Which way to the bathroom?" I asked, looking forward to my shower, even if it was the standard Guyanese "bucket-bath." My host and her family paused after my question, looking confused, then they all burst out laughing.

"Bath is over there," my host smiled, pointing out the window at the wide Pomeroon River flowing by the hut. Now, after a week of river baths, I can honestly say they actually feel quite refreshing. Also, we are deep in the rainforest, with neighboring huts often several hundred meters apart, so the water is pretty much fresh and unpolluted. However, I discovered the flipside to this fact a few days later when a boy ran up to us at the mission with a small tub. Inside was a freshly caught "pirai" from the very river in which I had been bathing every night and morning. Intrigued, I looked in the tub and discovered that "pirai" is what the Amerindians call piranha fish. Thankfully this particular fish was dead, but the hingetrap mouth and hints of the sharp teeth inside were evident. Needless to say, my baths went somewhat quicker after that. During my last day of this preliminary visit we took the health post's boat up and down the river to do house calls. The final home visit of the day was up a small creek that branched off the Pomeroon.

The creek terminated in a small inlet, where we tied the boat and climbed off. Long wooden planks had been laid on the mud and formed a path that led off between the trees.

Balancing on the boards, we walked into the forest and eventually came out into a small clearing where several thatched huts stood. There I met a 77-year-old man, his wife, and a young girl whom he informed me was one of his 76 grandchildren. They also had a pet parrot and a warakaba, which is a little two legged running bird of sorts, sort of like a chicken sized emu.

The 77 year old man, who was named Uncle George, cut open a coconut for me. I drank the cool, mildly sweet water inside thirstily, and then spooned out the lining of the white jelly to eat. The next morning I left for Georgetown to finish my training. So ended my week on the Pomeroon. I will return in May to live there for 2 years.