Technical wizardry

Finally got round to uploading those videos from the literacy workshop at Kartarbo Primary.  If you are too tired, after a busy days work, to scroll down to find them, the links are also here.

Click
Click again

With the current internet upload speeds you might get another video in July 2017.

You are all good people.

Drive by drenching

This weekend I chucked ice cold water over a small child, squirted coloured dye on the white dress of a kindly lady and smeared coloured powder into the hair of an elderly man. Now, you would be forgiven for thinking that I am a monster, a terrible person who shouldn’t be allowed to mix with others and certainly someone who should not be on a voluntary placement. And you would be right. All of those things would be abhorrent, if it wasn’t actively encouraged.

This weekend I travelled up to New Amsterdam with the other volunteers I came away with to celebrate the Hindu festival of Phagwah, or Holi. Holi is the spring festival of colour which is celebrated at the end of the winter season on the last full moon day of the lunar month (thanks Wikipedia). It is commemorated by having a huge public water fight and covering each other in coloured dyes and powders. The significance of this is so that when you are all finished, you look the same as the person next to you. There is no distinction between colour, religion or race. We are all the same – covered from head to foot in coloured dyes and powders.

We took a short taxi ride up to the local Mandir, where we understood that a huge bonfire was to be lit, ushering in the start of the festival. We knew that it was going to be a bit messy, which is why I had scoured the stores in Georgetown the day before, trying to find an old white t-shirt to wear. I had found one, but it looked like it had been pulled from the depths of a horror show. But we soon fixed that, bleach is a wonderful thing.

We were lucky enough to be invited into the Mandir and were welcomed with open arms. The ceremony was fantastic, simply sat on the floor, listening to singing, chanting and some great music with drums and harmonium. The Pandit delivered his message, a mixture of tolerance to all and peaceful messages for living a happier life, and then went outside to start the biggest fire I have ever seen. It was as tall as a three story house, but unfortunately it had been raining during our time inside, so it took a little while to start going. I say a little while, because the 40,000 litres of petrol kicked it off quick smart. That was some sage thinking. Good old arson...

Then, it all seemed to go ‘a bit Lord of the Flies’, or so I thought. People were running around, throwing things at each other. I was about to curl up and continuously shout “please don’t hit my face!” when I realised everyone was smiling and laughing and having fun. The festivities had begun. All ages were involved, old and young, men and women, covering everything and everyone in water. The drums kept playing and the music continued. It was a huge dance which you couldn’t seem to stop taking part in.

Now, bear in mind that we were fully clothed in ‘non Phagwah’ stuff. The white t-shirt was still in my bag, as were everyone else’s as we thought all the water and powder shenanigans started the next day. Wrong.

I tried to avoid the water. I was unsuccessful. I thought I could use the Kate Adie approach. Hold a camera and say “I’m just taking some pictures”, but it didn’t wash. I suddenly realised that it was either I get the camera destroyed, or put it down and get involved, which I did. I highly recommend it, but do remember to take your wallet out of your pocket too, especially in a country which is pretty much driven with paper currency. Paper mache money never quite works as well.

We were driven home by our new friends, as they refused to let us get a taxi and waited for the morning to start over again.

On Sunday we were meeting up with a teaching colleague of a volunteer and celebrating with her family for the day. When we arrived, we were greeted with smiles, generosity and the largest breakfast imaginable, and then subsequently didn’t stop eating (or receiving warm-hearted graciousness) for the rest of the day.

The first part of the day is to walk around the village, collecting people to join your celebrations. Everyone follows a band, who sings and plays music and occasionally stop at houses to be fed and watered. You sometimes get the occasional flat bed truck which drives around and throws buckets of water over people. It is like being a kid again. Next you are supposed to cover yourself in the mud and ash from the fire of the previous night, but as the mud was a little toxic we just opted for the ash.

The second part of the celebrations was after lunch; this was the powder fight with dyes and water pistols. Again, all ages were involved, you go around the town visiting all your friends and neighbours, covering them all in different coloured powders and wishing them a ‘happy Phagwah’. It is really very difficult to try and describe how welcoming and friendly total strangers can be. I guess that is why it is referred to as ‘playing Phagwah’ because, that’s just what it is like, playing.

The family looked after us like we were their own; their friends and neighbours turned into our friends and neighbours. It was all quite lovely. And I thought it took a long time to wash out all the Mash glitter from my hair... think again, scruff bag! Happy Phagwah, yeah? 

"So that was the first big weekend of the summer...”

...to pilfer the words of Aidan Moffat (I know it isn’t summer – just run with it, alright?)

It has been a pretty hectic week or so here, far too much has gone on to put into one blog entry, so I am going to split it into two. Mind you, I am going to write them both at the same time and post them up at the same time, so I might just as well have written one massive block of words. I thought I would be kinder to you and split it up so you can get a quick brew in between, or maybe look out of the window at a bird or something. That is pretty kind of me I think, so don’t say I never do anything for you.

I travelled back to Georgetown this week for a variety of reasons. The main reasons were for meetings with NCERD (National Centre for Education and Resource Development) and some other VSO volunteers. The trip also coincided with the book launch of Peter Jailall’s new poetry book Sacrifice. Peter is the Guyanese writer, now living in Canada, who I worked with in my first week for the literacy project. It was a good evening, with about 50 or so people listening to Peter read some extracts from his book and make us all sing some songs – you could tell where the teachers were in the room and the people who wanted the ground to swallow them up.

It was a little tardy in getting started though, as we had to wait for the Prime Minister to turn up. What? Oh, didn’t I mention that I now rub shoulders with the influential and powerful? Me and Samuel A Hinds? Oh yeah, good buddies now. (The truth is that he was sat WAY away from me and I never got near him the whole evening – but don’t say anything, it makes me sound important.) I was pretty impressed that he turned up, he has known Peter for a long while apparently. I was beginning to think that I was a little bit important to be mixing with such dignitaries, until another volunteer said that she has been to about 5 different meetings with the Prime Minister and about 3 with the President. I’ll notch it up then...

The first part of my work here is to complete a survey of SEN for Region 7 schools, so I needed to have a chat with the National SEN Coordinator at NCERD to see which direction she wanted me to take it and if I could look at previous surveys to get an idea of what to do. She was really supportive and said that it was pretty much going to be the first of its kind in the country. If it works, it might be used elsewhere.

It was pretty apparent that most of the forms and paperwork which are sent out to schools are very lengthy documents for teachers to complete, so this one is going to be a pretty simple affair. I’m quite glad really, as the idea of filling in a survey or a form fills me with dread. Tick boxes are the way forward, and it also gives me an idea of what to look out for specifically when I visit the schools and classes in person. This was also echoed in the second meeting with VSO volunteers from the Disability programme, who I needed to have input from so the survey isn’t just from an education point of view.

I also discussed my year here with the National SENCO, and where she thought I might take my placement. She was keen on the idea of a resource pack for schools about SEN and Inclusion and also suggested that another project might be to create a ‘making SEN resources on a shoestring budget’ pack. I could make a guide to classroom resources and hold workshops for teachers to make them and know how to use then effectively in class. Sounds pretty ace I think, so we will see how that develops.

Right, I think we have all done very well to not fall asleep or punch at the screen with our fists. You deserve a cup of tea and a quick look out of the window. “Ahhh, there is a Robin, don’t see many of those at this time of year...” That’s what I might be saying, but no, I have to evacuate a cockroach from my living room. WHISKEY!

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Story writing projects and spiders on steroids...

One week of work down. It has been pretty jam packed really, and a far cry from the ‘just take the first couple of months to settle in...’ that VSO suggested on the training courses.

My job title here is Special Educational Needs Specialist, which is pretty daunting if I think about it too much with my head. I am working in Region 7 of the country, which is quite a large chunk of the mid west (if my increasingly poor geography serves me). I am centred in Bartica, but I will be working with schools in the Upper, Middle and Lower Mazaruni areas.

As far as I have been told, and these things can change all the time - a bit like the weather, I have two main responsibilities with my position.

·         To conduct a regional survey of all schools to establish the number of children who have Special Educational Needs. (From now on, I am going to just put SEN because to write Special Educational Needs all the time is going to melt my head – and it’s too hot today as it is...)

·         To spearhead the drafting of a regional SEN programme after the results are in from the survey.

So, I have to spearhead something. That sounds a little alarming, as I can’t say I have ever had to spearhead anything in my life, ever. It sounds like something a mercenary does, and for the whole region too. So, to cut a long story short, my job here is one massive panic attack waiting to happen.

One of the main problems I will face is that the Upper Masaruni regions are so far away that to get there you would need to get on a small plane, which would be great if the funding was readily available. So it could be that I have to concentrate more on the Lower and Middle Mazaruni areas. These are more accessible by car and also, to get to the more remote schools, by speed boat.

I am starting to get used to this speedboat lark. It’s not a commute I have ever had to experience. I am usually stuck behind a tractor or a buffoon in a Land Rover Discovery who takes up most of the road while they chat on their phone. But to skip over the waves surrounded by dense forests, watching eagles soar above me beats it hands down.

These boats are smaller than the time-travelling, fume filled boats from Parika. They are not enclosed so you are open to the elements. The breeze is lovely, but it masks the fact that the sun is burning you to a crisp, so when you arrive anywhere you look like you have been microwaved. Classy.

My week has been split. I have spent a couple of days in the Education Office and the rest of the time working with other volunteers on a literacy project. The Education Office is a pretty hectic place, with about 7 people trying to work in a room which can only really cater for 5 – due to it being a temporary office while the other building gets refurbished. I have been starting my induction programme here, and so far I have signed a form and taken down the phone number of the office. In week 2 of my induction, I get a tour of the offices and find out where the toilets are. Not kidding, that’s week 2. Fingers crossed I can hold on till then. I think I had been in the office for about an hour before I had the “So tell me sir, are you married? Do you have kids? Where is your wife? Would you like a Guyanese wife?” conversation. Twice. Will keep you posted on that.

The rest of the week was spent working on a literacy project in Kartabo Primary School with other VSO volunteers and the Guyanese poet and storyteller Peter Jailall. Peter was born in Guyana, but now lives in Canada where he publishes books of poems and stories about his native country. He comes back a few times in the year to work with local children on literacy and writing projects with volunteer groups.

Peter shared poems and stories (click on them, they are links to videos...) with the children, encouraging them to create written accounts of their lives and the animals they see in the jungle areas around their homes and school. The children were split into different groups where a number of activities were undertaken. Story boarding and sequencing, narrative writing and number problems which all centred on the stories main theme. This allowed the teachers of Kartabo to see how to include cross curricular themes into their own classroom teaching, and how to differentiate for those children with a higher or lower ability. The children were great and created some brilliant work.

On the last day of the week, the children travelled up to Bartica to come to the Learning Resource Centre which was been set up in the town. It is recognised as being one of the best centres of its kind in the whole country, allowing local children and adults to take out books and use the internet to complete school assignments and become more computer literate. It has been built up over time by past VSO volunteers and is currently looked after by a Peace Corp guy called Chris.

The children and teachers were able to browse the books and facilities in the hope that they would come to use it in the future. It was a good culmination to a busy and productive week.

Saturday was market day and wash day, which for some reason always makes me think of that scene in The Terminator.

Redneck - “Wash day right? Nothing clean...?”

Arnie - NU-THING-CLEAN...

Still not seen that spider again, which can only be a good thing. (Unless he is taking time out to bulk up, in which case it would then be a bad thing...) That pathetic whimpering sound I make is just degrading. I did oust a cockroach from my room the other day, so that’s something to be proud of me for, right? What do you want, blood?

The first 2 weeks

Well, this blog thing has been left empty for a while now, so I suppose I had better contribute to it to give an indication as to what I am doing here, as a few of my friends in the UK are still convinced that I am locked away in my house in Devon and only breaking cover to nip to the Spa for a packet of Monster Munch and Jaffa Cakes. This is really not the case, although a packet of Pickled Onion flavour would go down a treat right about now.

It is pretty important to add first off that there will be some spelling mistakes, grammatical errors and things in this blog which will make you think ‘...and this guy taught children how to write?’ I can only apologise. If I miss the occasional capital letter, or put a comma where a semi colon should be then don’t judge me, I am not a bad person. I know what I mean, you know what I mean, so let’s get over it...

Righto, so – where am I? Well, I flew out of the UK on Feb 10^th and into Georgetown, Guyana where I had a two week induction course with VSO. The course introduced us to what VSO are doing in Guyana and what they hope to achieve in the future. It also concentrated on local culture and customs, the roles of the different programmes in the country, learning how to understand Creolese (the local dialect) and how to cook with the wide array of foods found in the local market. It was pretty thorough.

I won’t bang on about everything which we did in those two weeks. The 4 other volunteers and I had a great time, learning from the already established volunteers and getting used to Georgetown. The heat, the noise, the smells, the rain, the busses, the taxies (both of which you take your life in your hands when you travel – the basic rule is that you drive as fast as you can, on the opposite side of the road, with your stereo on full, beeping your horn at anyone who might get in your way. Oh, and not slowing down for them, or the wild dogs/cows/pigs/goats/horses which wander freely around you. You are now fully trained as a Georgetown bus driver – best of luck, yeah?)

During the fortnight we were able to help another volunteer as she prepared for the Mashramani festival, or ‘Mash’, which is an annual festival that celebrates Guyana becoming a Republic in 1970. It centres around a huge carnival style procession around the streets of Georgetown, with music and dancing and general merriment. Her project was to create a float celebrating 10 years of International Volunteering, with the Georgetown Society for the Blind playing steel pans and members of the different groups which VSO helps following behind.

A float was made, costumes were created and glitter got everywhere. This whole process took about a week, with plenty of late nights and bleary eyes. Oh, and of course a few beers. When Mash came, the whole day was exhausting, loud and very very hot, but well worth it as in the end as our float won 'Best Semi Costume for a Medium Sized Band' by the Ministry of Culture. I am still finding glitter all over the place.

Soon enough it was time to move on to Bartica, the town I will be living and working in for the next year. To get to Bartica you have to take a bus from Georgetown to a town called Parika, which slightly resembled that place in Pirates of the Caribbean called Tortuga. You know, the crazy place. Well, it did in my head anyway, minus the fighting and being sick. It is a bustling port which serves speedboats heading up the Essequibo River towards Bartica. As soon as you arrive you are fought over by guys to carry bags to the waiting boats. Problem is, they don’t know where you are going, and neither do you really. You just keep saying ‘Yeah, I’m going to Bartica, please can you give me my bag back...?’ So I followed these guys down a narrow passageway and made it to the beach and a waiting speedboat. The captain looked at me, and at my bags, and decided that I had to pay double. That was super.

The journey itself from Parika to Bartica takes around an hour, and it is an hour of sitting in a cramped boat, getting dripped on from the roof, doing a zillion miles an hour over waves with 10% oxygen and 90% diesel fumes circulating around you. It was pretty entertaining to be honest, I felt like I was going back in time.

So, I am now in my home, in my town, with a job to do. Pretty scary really. So far I have spent most of my time liberating frogs, cockroaches and geckos from my house. Still not quite found that spider I saw on my first night. I have a feeling that he is behind my wardrobe, but judging from the size of him, he could probably run faster than me, then kill me. He can stay there for all I care.