Our Town

So, it has come to be my turn to update our blog… it shouldn’t be a chore, but it’s a little like when you casually throw a shirt on the bedroom floor, and then a pair of socks, and suddenly it’s a heap of clothing and you’re annoyed you never did anything about it to begin with because now you’re overwhelmed and unmotivated — well my journal is a messy heap of topics which I have listed to write about, not a single one of which I have tackled over the last month.  Oh St. Vincent, how I am picking up your bad habits!  Procrastination is pretty much a cultural norm here…

Well, Steve and I have just wrapped up our almost 3 week long break which we took with the school kids and since this past Monday, Voila!, procrastination no longer.  We came to the major decision Sunday night that we would actually switch our positions, Steve working at Marion House and me at the Secondary school.  We’d complained for a long time that this made more sense, what with me being a former teacher and Steve’s job title being NGO developer.  However, until this past Sunday it never really occurred to us that this was something we could do; needless to say, it’ll be a stressful next couple weeks, but hopefully better for both of us in the long run.  I can’t say that I’m totally looking forward to taking on the massive issues of the Secondary school’s remedial reading program, but it’ll be a challenge and I do enjoy working at a school.

The break treated us well — it was relaxing, and just boring enough that we started getting a little antsy to start some new work projects.  When we moved to Georgetown, we were told that its nickname was “ghost town” due to all of the abandoned buildings post-sugar cane factory closing.  This stereotype proved a bit true during the Christmas season; with all of the Holiday hype, the streets seemed particularly empty over the past few weeks.  The one stunning exception to this deadness was the Boxing Day fair, held the day after Christmas.  We were told that this was the day to get excited about, the biggest party of the whole year. After the somewhat fizzled 9 mornings celebrations in Georgetown, Steve and I were skeptical, but we shouldn’t have been.

Boxing Day morning everything was the same — calm, quiet.  We took E-Lo to Black Point with Tony and had a fabulous time, although managing to lose a boomerang, one flip flop, and E-Lo’s favorite dog toy to the unpredictable tidal swells in the cove.  On the way home, even, around one p.m. (when the fair officially opened) Georgetown was its same subdued self.  We came home, got a shower, and got dressed, waiting to leave until three p.m., when Tony said the real crowd began to arrive.  As we came closer to the Primary School, it suddenly appeared as if everyone in Georgetown was walking in the same direction!  When we arrived and met up with two other volunteers, the line to get into the fair was massive — and by line what I really mean is giant clump of overly anxious fairgoers all pushing forward at the same time, with women screaming things like “Lay me tru — me ga pickney!” (child) and shoving with all of their maternal might.  It was the perfect storm for a trampling, but somehow I managed to make it through the crowd, not in the least part due to my own defensive shoves and shouting. (We’ve learned from the vans that “push or be pushed” is a necessary mantra, even in the case of little old ladies.  This may seem heartless, but it’s really survivalist, unless you want to end up with a cane to the gut and no seat on the van).  When we were finally all accounted for, we surveyed the fair and, well, it was really just a lot people crammed into a primary school common area, with some booths set up selling drink and food, and an M.C. playing Soca music.  No rides or ferris wheels (really, this was a silly hope), but all of this was made up for by…the outfits.

This was a couple thousand men, women, and children looking their finest, with outfits that said, I will be so bold I will even stand out in a Caribbean crowd.  The girls all had their hair done: beautiful plats and braids, curls and updos, waves, poofs, medusa looking snakes, sparkling and bright barrettes and bobbles for the little girls.  They were costumed in every color of the rainbow and their color combinations were fierce!  Huge yellow earrings, purple shirt, yellow miniskirt, purple stilettos.  Bright turquoise pleather jumper with a neon pink tube top and platinum pink shoes with bows.  Mad cleavage, backless, strapless, circus meets club…in the middle of the afternoon!  The gents were more subtle, but still looked sharp.  Never-worn jeans, new ball caps, spotless graphic T’s, with tags and stickers always left on.  My personal favorite were the “twins” — grown men and women in matching (or even better, corresponding) fairware.  Bethany and I vowed that next year we would purchase matching outfits in town and come as twins.  This sounds totally ridiculous, but really, we would have looked more normal; in our conservative and muted volunteer clothing we both felt outright dowdy.  The night continued as a huge enclosed street party might — drinking, dancing, a few fights (although according to the locals it was one of the most peaceful years).  Disturbingly, it appeared to be completely normal for children as young as 8 or 9 to walk around publicly with a beer bottle.  I became fairly certain that they were being sold to.  I thought briefly about going around and making the children give up their drinks, but realized, sadly, that they could easily get another one.  One girl I questioned about it told me that this was “custom…” sigh

Other highlights of the break included a Georgetown karaoke competition in which I placed second and won a case of beer (!), a hike up the volcano Soufriere and across the island into Chateaubelair, and a relaxing New Year’s spend in Bequia.  Steve and I’s main New Year’s resolution is, collectively, to “embrace optimism,” and we will try to remind ourselves of this daily as we face numerous unpredictable struggles and frustrations (sorry, I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit at how New Age and self-helpish we’ve become).  It’s true, though, that there’s a lot to be thankful for here, there’s a lot to love about Georgetown, if we just modify our perspective a little.  And it’s our town, and I think we’re finally starting to feel it.