Luck, Resilience, Workhorses, Flexible Schedules and Jumbies

My New Friend - Unlucky

As I went to print [?] last week on Saturday, everything was a "go" for Tracy to join me here in Guyana as a new volunteer.   Just a few hours before she was to take off I received this email, "Do you have a phone number I can call you at asap?"    Later, Tracy wrote this for for me to put on the blog:

“It was with deep regret that I made a decision to cancel my trip to Guyana on Saturday, a mere hours before I was due to get on the plane. One of my sons is experiencing some medical issues that reminded me clearly that my first duty, is here with my family. John mentioned my enthusiasm in a previous post and that has not waned in the slightest; I absolutely intend to visit Guyana, hopefully during John’s next trip. Before then, I will work on my 'saying no' skills as I’ve always found the idea of writing a blog quite intimidating!! I want to thank John for being so welcoming and working with so many other welcoming folks to find opportunities for me to get some exposure to Guyana and Mercy. Next time!"

Tracy had said she needed Peanut Butter, in fact couldn't live without it.
So -- in case Tony would think she was an addict, I had hidden an extra jar under her pillow.

I can't say I was thrilled with this development -- AND of courseTracy made the right decision.   As I have said many times before, "You need to be lucky to be a volunteer!"  You can have money and desire and talent and ..... but so many other events in our lives need to fall into place, including the health of our family (and ourselves)!

For those of you who are not lucky enough to be Canadian, it is Thanksgiving this weekend.   Some of my family will gather at my home to celebrate all we have to be thankful for ..... without me.   I am thankful to all of them for supporting me with their words and actions and by staying healthy!    I will look forward to Tracy coming next year ..... if I am lucky enough to be here too.

You have to be Tough to be a Nurse in Guyana

Almost every year I (or one of my guests like Dennis or Andrew) -- I love it when someone else does the work) have the students explore their family history -- at least, what they know of it.   And really these young people are no different than any others ..... pretty selfish.  Their world is themselves, which probably is necessary developmentally.  So when I introduce family history, in unison they say they know nothing.   Okay, "Do you know who your parents are?" And we are off ..... I distribute blank family tree diagrams that are so culturally biased they need to be considerably amended to meet the structure of a Caribbean family.   I give them a few pointers, and this year -- it might be because of climate change or because I am getting better as a teacher --  they worked hard at it and some could go back 5 or 6 generations and find some information.  (Still, some could not go back even one generation on one side of their families.)

This year I asked them to write a one page reflection on "Who Am I?" with the emphasis on what they had learned by exploring their ancestry.   I'll include just a couple of examples.  The first one has unique events, but the theme of resiliency is one that is common to all my students.   When the field of family therapy was just beginning, researchers were amazed at the resiliency of families who faced enormous obstacles with severely limited resources.   At first, the concept of resiliency was applied only to individuals in the family, like the strong single mom; however, it has shifted now to a more systemic awareness.   (I resort to my favourite expression, "Both are True.")   I am humbled by the resilience of my students -- though it does not stop me from criticizing them when they are "out to lunch."

I am 19 years old and I was born at GPH, but I was raised in Lethem, Rupununi.  I am my mother’s only child and the second for my father.   My mom and I lived alone because my mom and dad separated when I was one year old.  In 2003, my mom married my step-father and I went to live with my grandmother because my mom was suffering from thrombosis.  Her left leg was amputated and she was only twenty-two years old.  After she recovered and learned to walk with crutches, we moved to Georgetown.  There I completed my primary school education.  My mom fell ill again and I was home-schooled for one year in the interior of Guyana on the Essequibo River before moving back to Lethem.  I completed my secondary schooling there in July 2014.  I returned to Georgetown to re-write my maths and while there I lost my mom to a heart attack.  I returned home for one year to: grieve her death, deal with  my breakdown, and get my life together.

I returned to Georgetown in late 2016 and applied to nursing school where I was accepted.   I am being supported by my grandparents and aunt, both on my father’s side.  My father really never played a part in my life until the death of my mom.

Knowing about my family from both parents, makes me realize how lucky I am to belong to a loving family who support me through nursing, especially on my father’s side --  a family who are there for me when I break down and encourage me when I feel like giving up.  I am grateful to god for giving me such a blessing.

The next one has an illustration of the sad history of indenture in Guyana.  Her great grandmother's death was not unusual on the journey from India to Guyana.    As well, there's a surprise conclusion:  I had hoped for it, but still was surprised when I saw it in print:

My third great grandfather from my mother’s side came from Southern India in 1880.   He was brought on the ship Bruce to work as an agricultural laborer at an East Coast plantation.  His wife was also with him on the ship and died on the way, near South Africa.  She died mainly from diarrhea and vomiting from drinking impure water; her body was thrown overboard.  My grandfather completed his five-year indenture; he remarried and settled on the coast of Guyana.

Family history is truly a righteous pursuit.  I have a desire to be more kind.  Family history becomes more important when you lose someone you love.  Something happens to my soul when someone whom I have loved moves on.  I have learned that I am an important person and I have things to pass on to my children, my society and to unknown future generations.

Maybe not all students are as selfish as I thought!

And Something to Make Anne Laugh

As part of the deal to get an extra class-slot, I had to promise the English teacher, Candy Mohan, that I would also correct the students' spelling and grammar.   I don't know how many of you know this, but my blogs have been censored for years.  Yes, Anne reviews all my drafts and corrects for spelling, grammar, and inappropriate content... And sometimes it takes her a very long time!   She said something about not being able to send it on to her friends in an unedited state .....   

You Really Can't Abuse Tony

Tony has been working hard since he arrived here.  He is at the Psychiatry Department of the Public Hospital every day, and many days has been teaching at Mercy as well.  This Tuesday he took over my two classes in order to teach a review of the Central Nervous System, Motor and Sensory Pathways, etc.  This is because our Problem Based Learning pages are built on the basis of neurological problems, with ethics, psychology and sociology woven in.    

He was so popular the senior students wanted to join in as well as the faculty.  It was a full house and he didn't disappoint.    He is an excellent presenter and has lots of weird examples, not to mention his unusual sense of humour.  However, the large class left the students hesitant to answer any of his questions.  At one point, Tony got a little frustrated and exclaimed,  "What idiot has been teaching Neurology?"







It has been good to have him back here.   I hope to have him write the blog for me next week or the week after.     Yes, I know, one less for me, but I'll suffer through... and you may suffer less. 




Plan Ahead ..... No, Don't Bother

This week was already quite different as Tracy was to be here and I had worked around her plans ..... I really shouldn't have bothered -- not so much because Tracy was unable to make it, but because it is Guyana. 

Monday, it was decided that the Massive Prayer Service for the students taking their national exams would be at lunchtime instead of the end of the day ..... ugh.  This basically meant that we could not teach PBL because we need the morning session in order to have the afternoon one.      Okay, I had many errands to run and would be back by noon as I told the secretary at 9 when I left for downtown.  About 9:30, I received a phone call from the Director, Elsie.  "Rev, where are you?" "I'm heading to St Ann's."  "Can you be back by 10? We changed the service so the students could leave and get their hair done."  "Okay, I'll be back."   And then -- the service started at 11.

     

Tuesday, normal for me, though Tony taught.

Wednesday, a normal PBL day ..... not.   When I got over to the school, I was shown a letter sent the day before in the late afternoon from the Ministry of Education requiring all faculty to attend a crucial meeting from 8:00 to 2:00.    Okay, there will be no tutors for PBL ..... We will just have them do the small group without tutors.   One tutor reacted as if  I had just killed her mother ..... "They can't do it without me."    Really?   I overruled her, and as I was thinking about how to do it Nurse Elsie informed me that PAHO was coming over to have their book sale.  Good event as they have really excellent books at discount prices... And they would be here all morning and the students were required to come.   No problem: I would just continue my shopping/errands from Monday.

Thursday, normal - Two days out of the week; not bad.

Friday, the Mad House!  No not just another day at Mercy ..... we were doing our field trip to the National Psychiatric Hospital in New Amsterdam.  More next week on the trip, but I do want to mention a really good thing.  The cost of the trip was paid for this year by Mental Health Without Borders.  This was a group which developed from the health professionals who came several years ago to look at how to improve mental health in Guyana.

An Old Tale of Jumbies

Between  Georgetown and New Amsterdam resides the famous Cotton Wood Tree in the middle of the highway, the only place in Guyana that a road separates .  And the reason is that "everyone" believes that Jumbies (Guyana equivalent of Zombies) reside in the tree and that the tree is possessed with magical powers to inflict harm on anyone who tries to cut it down.   So when the road was built, no workman would cut down the tree for the road.

This Cotton Wood tree was imported from Holland and is also known as the white man's tree.  When the tree was planted many years ago a slave was buried in the hole to provide fertilizer.  Usually, the slave was dead.  But for this tree he was buried alive.   And if you are brave enough to touch the roots of the tree you can still feel the heartbeat of the slave.   Only a few students got close to the tree and no one actually touched it .....