St. Vincent

The long awaited entry has finally arrived. I have been in St. Vincent and the Grenadines for a little over a week now and my first impression is that the island is beautiful. I drive up and down the Windward side of the island which is the Atlantic Ocean side and the views are amazing. The only thing that gets me to turn my eyes from the ocean is observing the poverty within the island. Through my first week here I have come to the conclusion that the common thread that links poverty throughout the world is people of color. It seems like the people here have been forgotten, either by their government or by international aid programs or by both. While the poverty is glaring the capacity for growth and development is just as apparent. Vincentians are hard working nice people; they just need an industry that will allow them to support themselves and their family. A little over a decade ago St. Vincent produced 3% of the world’s bananas and the citizens were able to survive. Unfortunately they were fazed out of the banana market by Dole and Chiquita who shared 97% of the market but were not happy and wanted St. Vincent’s tiny 3%. So now the people are struggling and that’s where I came in, to try and provide some type of community and youth development from the ground up.
Personally these first few days have been harder than I initially anticipated. I have adopted one day at a time as my personal motto, hopefully concentrating on just completing one day will allow the days to role by until I get better adjusted. The family I am staying with has been very friendly and has helped to lift my spirits on several occasions. The family has eight members the mother named Purnell who keeps the house clean and every well feed. The Father, St. Elbert Walters who is a banana farmer, school principal and preacher, he keeps everyone well disciplined and during our many conversations has enlightened me about local and international politics. The two daughters Grace and Joy are both in the medical field, Grace is a nurse and Joy is in medical school in Cuba. The son Wes is in secondary school, which is the equivalent to high school in states, he is the strong silent type but he is starting to open up and talk to me more and more. The older son Wendall is a recent graduate from a University in Mexico with a degree in Anthropology, he has been my unofficial guide this past week, teaching the bus routes and introducing me to people around the community. The grandson Will who is Grace’s son is around 15 or 16 and he is going through the adolescent stage where is too cool for everything. Finally there is the nephew named chemmey, I can’t really understand much he says because his accent is very thick but I did get him to give me a hair cut a couple of days ago.
The hardest part about my stay here has been the riding the bus for an hour and half one way into town. The bus here is not at all like a bus back in the states, they are the size of a wolkswagon mini bus, the kind the hippies used to drive pack in the 60’s and 70’s. They have two people working the bus, the driver and the conductor. The driver is self explanatory and the conductor is in charge of collecting the money and squeezing as many people as possible into the tiny 4 rows of seats. Once everyone is packed into the bus the driver turns up the soco music, which is a mix between reggae and hip hop, and proceeds to drive like a bat out of hell. The drivers here are either highly skilled or completely crazy; I haven’t figured it out yet. Once I pull myself out of the loaded missile and reach town I have to sit through 8 hours of Peace Corps training which covers topics ranging from cultural differences, community development, safety and security and working with schools. Some of it is interesting and helpful and some of it makes me want to jump out of window, but it’s only temporary and it’s almost half over.
Through this first week and half I have developed a nemesis and his name is Striker. He is the dominant male in the family’s pack of dogs, all and all they have 6 dogs which include 3 puppies, 1 mother and 2 full grown male. Striker has prompted an attack on me once and has come close once before, luckily the second time I was able to use my ninja like quickness to out run them, but it was close. Throughout the day Striker stalks the families 3 acres daring anyone to come into his domain, I’ve seen him attack other people and dogs. Somehow I have to figure out a way to get him to be friendly with me, I don’t know how I’m going to do it but I have to figure it out. All and all my experience in St. Vincent has been good and I look forward to getting to work and try to better my community.