Disappointment!

Isn't it always funny that the thing you most desire is often the least likely to happen? This past Saturday I visited the Georgetown Zoo. Although it was small, it promised a wide sampling of Guyana's indigineous animals. I was excited to see some of the strange animals I had only heard of, but there was one animal in particular I was really looking forward to.

The blue and gold macaw was beautiful, but not what I was looking for.

The squirrel monkey that raced across the top of the cages celebrating his freedom and ability to patrol the zoo was cute, but not what I really wanted to see.


The curious looking agouti, with little pig hoofs, a rodents body, and a red hind end was interesting, but not what I was looking for.


Elizabeth even got to meet her cousin...

... the red faced spider monkey. But still I didn't see what I'd come to see.

In a murky pond covered in slime I found a grossly obese manatee floating with its infant.

Once again, fascinating, and fun to pet, but not what I REALLY wanted to see.

At last I arrived at his cage. I scanned the scrubby grasses and muddy pits, but the cage was empty! What?! Did he die? Did he get moved? Where was he? Then far back in the corner, inside a fenced in shack I spotted a black blob. Looking closer I saw that the blob had legs and was sleeping on short platform. What? I come all this way and the beast didn't even have the decency to make an appearance. With the zoom lense on my camera I was able to capture him in open mouthed slumber. And that, sadly, was the closest I got to seeing a tapir.

An Afternoon in the Clinic

She was only 20. With a baby girl cradled between her knees she told me that she was pregnant again. This fact alone was not enough to surprise me, but when she added that her current pregnancy was her 5th child I couldn’t decide whether to be shocked or sympathetic first. As I completed her chart with questions on current and past pregnancies and watched while the baby’s heart rate was checked I considered how to most appropriately address the subject of family planning.

I soon learned that she was not alone as one teenage mother after another poured through the clinic doors with their infants and toddlers. Many were unwed and carried their infants while pulling their toddlers along by the arm. While the rest of us cringed, first time mom’s discussed home remedies they’d heard such as washing out their infants eyes with urine. The lack of general knowledge was astounding.

In each corner of the clinic a health worker or student met with the mothers, checked their babies, and answered questions. Sleepy babies screamed in protest when they were undressed and set on the scale and then settled down to watch from the safety of their mothers arms while their weight was charted. Simple questions about diet, eating habits, and development brought all sorts of answers. Breast feeding is the accepted norm and the mothers thought nothing of baring their breasts regardless of the gender of the person assisting them.

While the women held their babies and waited to be seen the laughter and talking could be heard from outside. Along the boat dock were twelve to fifteen boats. In each sat a brother, a boyfriend, or a husband. They had done their part by paddling the mother and child to the clinic and now they settled down to wait. Child care and family planning are not tasks deemed necessary by many Guyanese men, but rather they are left up to the woman. And so the women came: for healthy baby checks, for WIC vouchers, for prenatal exams, and for birth control tablets, injections, and condoms. And as they came, we met with each one and did our best to educate them or say something that will make a difference in their life, or the life of the child they held.

Random Photos That Don't Have A Story...As of Yet

Rainbow over the Sisson's home after an afternoon of rain.

Resting after harvesting 500 lbs of pumpkins.

Even Kitten was hungry after all that hard work...he found the pumpkin juice to be quite to his liking.

A boa constrictor we found one morning in our bora plants. He was quite friendly after he finished breakfast and let us carry him around for a while.

Four hours spent with the planer on the floor of the new workshop...a break from the ordinary...but not entirely pleasent. I think my arms hurt for at least two days after I was done.

Phagwah: An Exercise in Unity

The air around me was a-swirl in a powdery mist of pink, green, and blue. I viewed the world through the fine dusting of powder across my glasses. Pink powder caked into my ears and I had green and blue streaks across my cheeks. Any movement caused the fine dust to rise into the air before once again lighting on my skin.

We had come as observers but the small group around us apparently hadn’t caught on to that concept. With bottles of colored powder and pop bottles filled with liquid color they surrounded us with smiles on their faces. “ Happy Phagwah!” they said as they smeared our cheeks with color and shook baby powder onto our heads before kissing each cheek.

Phagwah is a Hindu holiday that celebrates the coming of spring and the color that it brings. In addition it is a holiday that promotes a putting aside of differences and a celebration of friendships and diversity. The ceremony began by a group of singers sitting on the floor leading a “Happy Phagwah” song. East Indians of all ages that had gathered for the celebration worked their way around the sitting group of song leaders sprinkling baby powder and colored powder on their heads. Once the song was over the people converged on each other with colors of all types – pinks, purples, blues, greens, and shimmery glitter filled shades. Little boys with water guns filled with liquid color laughed and chased each other and covertly took turns trying to spray the “white girls” without beings seen.

After the celebration towels were produced and faces were clean and then it was off to the next house where people crowded onto the veranda and more Phagwah songs were sung. Little boys sat still while clutching their water guns and waiting for the moment when it would be time to color each other again. Snacks were served, the group colored each other, and then it was off to the next house for more of the same – the Hindu version of a block party.

Two hours later we left, color soaked and laughing. We had come as observers but they had welcomed us as family. We lived different lives, were of a different race, and were of two vastly different religions, but we had celebrated together none-the-less.