Staying at mum and dad's place

While we were at mum and dad’s, Dayan tried to institute a compost pile for food scraps, and a semblance of a system to deal with rubbish (there is no affordable rubbish collection system), but it proved an uphill battle getting everyone to participate.  Likewise, being the kind of person who likes to be able to find things in the kitchen, I found it frustrating that almost every time I wanted to chop vegetables to cook a meal, I couldn’t find any of the three knives and had to go on a goose chase before I could continue with the meal preparation.  The disappearing knife might be found under the mango tree, under the coconut tree, in the porch, or somewhere else less predictable.

Other times, I couldn’t find the chopping board, because it seemed that each person (including various visiting family members) had a different idea of where it should be stored, and a couple of those places were very obscure, or so I thought.  And why was it that everyone except me could get the gas burners to light?  I went on an extended search of the local shops to find a viable tin opener because I refused to learn to open tins with a knife.  When I found one (at one of the ‘made in China’ suppliers), I took it back to another store to show it to the sales assistant, because he had apparently never seen one before and had no idea how it worked – hence the blank looks when I asked him if the shop had any tin openers.  I had to adapt my shopping and cooking habits to what was available and affordable locally, and also to the fact that we had a freezer but no fridge.  Yes, these experiences highlighted some weak points in my virtues of tolerance and flexibility.  They also emphasized some cultural and lifestyle differences between my Kiwi life and the life of a typical Rupununi person.

Other challenges during this time included a couple of diarrhoea and vomiting bugs, a necessary evil, I suppose, as we all adjusted to the local strains of bacteria and the conditions which predisposed us to succumb (well, really, how do you keep an adventurous three year old from ingesting a peck of dirt or two, and how do you keep the flies away from the latrine?).  The horrible bordered on the hilarious as we would put a clean sheet on the children’s mattress after one of them had puked all over it… only to have the other puke all over it (and themselves and each other).  Days spent washing pukey sheets and soiled clothes by hand, and airing out the mattress, nights spent doing emergency clean ups and toilet visits in the dark, and without running water.  My patience was well and truly tested as I would have to get in and out of my hammock net so many times each night.  Thankfully Dayan and I were able to tag-team to some extent.  “It’s your turn dear…”  And “where did you put the torch?”

I was mostly spared the nasties, but did have one unpleasant bout of something.  As Murphy’s law would have it, I had my sickest day on Christmas day, the day we had organized an extended-family party to celebrate three family birthdays including Kalen’s.  After withdrawing from polite company to puke at the back of the garden, I spent almost the entire day bone-achingly immobile in my hammock and could not eat or drink a single thing.  The party was, happily, quite a success in my absence and I suppose there was more birthday cake per capita, which has to be a good thing.

 One of the birthday boys blowing out his candle.

While Kalen outwardly appeared to barely notice that he was now living in a different part of the world, he did manifest a couple of interesting behavioural responses to his new environment.  In New Zealand his temperament and character were very easy-going and gentle with other children.  But within a couple of days of arrival at Granny’s house, where he was surrounded by male cousins who modeled ‘power rangers’ play fighting, toy guns and so on, Kalen’s behaviour became violent almost overnight.  He began hitting, kicking, pushing and shouting.  Was he just mimicking his cousins?  Had he not grasped the difference between play-fighting and real hitting and kicking?  Was he trying to vie with his little cousin for attention or dominance?  Was he manifesting some inner turmoil that he couldn’t verbalise?  I don’t know what was really going on, but naturally we let him know where our boundaries of acceptable behaviour lay.  As time has gone on the violent behaviour has largely subsided.  It became easier once we moved into our own home; however, when he is frustrated he still pretends to hit out, or makes an empty verbal threat to ‘lash you’ (Guyanese-speak for ‘hit’) while clearly remaining well in control of himself.

Kalen and his gorgeous little cousin Stephon, who at the age of two, could ride his bike without trainer wheels.  Poor Kalen (the same age as Stephon) couldn't even figure out how to push the pedals in the right direction WITH trainer wheels.

Ultimately, while living at ‘Granny’s’, we knew we would need to find our own space in order to establish our own routines, to eat our own choice of food, and to be able to unpack our boxes and stop living out of suitcases.  (Ha!  If only I knew then, that now, eight months later as I write this, Dayan and I still have our clothes and linen in suitcases).

Despite the challenges we experienced, this time at mum and dad’s was very special.  Zayna and Kalen got to know their cousins, aunties, uncles and grandparents, and we all got acquainted with the neighbourhood, the Lethem way of life, and some of the local treats.  For example, we made cherry juice with fresh West Indian cherries from the neighbour’s trees.  No relation to the stone fruit cherries of temperate climates; I think these West Indian cherries are also known as acerola and are very high in vitamin C.  We drank fresh coconut water.  Ate different varieties of mango. Tasted drinks made from the fruit of the ite palm (Mauritius Palm).  Discovered that Kalen adores plantain chips.

 Plenty of homegrown mangoes!

  

Giant coconut!

Ite fruit processing is quite involved - that's the fruit in the buckets.  You have to harvest the wild fruits from high up in the palm trees along the creek, soak the fruits to soften them, peel them, and scrape the bright yellow edible flesh off the large seed.  Good for making sweet drinks and iceblocks ('icicles' in Guyanese lingo).

I made an amazing rich icecream with jackfruit from Brazil, which was so sweet it needed no extra sugar.  We also boiled the jackfruit seeds which tasted very nutty.  We enjoyed cook-up rice, Amerindian tuma pot (fish in a peppery broth), farine (a couscous-like cassava staple of Amerindians), cassava bread (a hard bland biscuit-like Amerindian creation, also a staple), tasso (dried, salted beef), passock (a deliciously seasoned mix of shredded tasso and farine) and other local dishes. Ever heard of monkey ears or granny-belly-skin?  They’re types of pancakes which fit in the broader category of ‘bakes’ – flour-based breads or pancakes often made for breakfast.

Dayan and I took a trip to Boa Vista in Brazil and bought ourselves bicycles.  The perfect way to get around a small, flat town!  Zayna got a bicycle too, eventually, and Kalen has a small seat which attaches to the adults’ bikes.  Kalen found the seat so comfortable he fell asleep while riding on more than one occasion.  Not the safest way to ride, as you can see below, especially on a bike with no brakes.  This is not Dayan's new-secondhand bike shown in the pic - his bike actually has brakes, which, around these parts are seen as something of a luxury bike accessory - 'nice to have but not absolutely necessary'.

After Christmas Zayna started school at Arapaima Primary – the school her dad attended.  Here she is in her uniform ready to walk to school with Ethan and Savi.

We spotted an ad in the newspaper in early December for a Lethem managerial position.  We had no idea what sort of business the position was with, but decided Dayan should apply anyway.  I rewrote Dayan’s résumé to match the advertised position and a subtly schmoozy cover letter that would guarantee him a place on the shortlist (works every time).  At the job interview Dayan discovered that the job came with a rent-free apartment… which seemed like a heaven-sent opportunity.  Within a few weeks the job was confirmed, although we weren’t able to move to the apartment till early February 2012.  I felt a sense of gladness and relief finally moving to our own apartment, even though we had almost no furniture and very nearly had no water supply.  This was because we had been homeless – living in other people’s homes or travelling – for nine months.