Cemetery: Wake Up and Live

There is a sign in the middle of a cemetery that states “Wake up and Live IV”.  The number at the end represents the number of times the sign has been repainted.  Apparently, the cemetery used to be a popular spot for gambling. Bob Marley had a popular song called “Wake up and live”, so the community members painted the name of the song on the cemetery in order to encourage the gamblers to do something more productive.

Sun and Moon sets

 Another Peace Corps volunteer pointed out that the sun in Suriname gets very high in the sky during the day and sets very fast in the evening. In North America, the sun does not get as high in the sky, and the sun sets gradually. I wondered why, so I looked it up.

At the North Pole, the sun does not rise high in the sky. It travels in a low circle and sets at an angle. There are certain times of year during which the sun never sets (the midnight sun). The sun travels in a low circle around the edge of the sky, never rising or setting.

Near the equator, the sun's pattern is different. The sun and moon rise perpendicular to the horizon, rise very high in the sky, and set perpendicular to the horizon.

 This volunteer wondered if the same rules that apply to the sun apply to the moon and stars. The answer is yes. Stars which rise perpendicular to the horizon when seen from the equator rise very low when near the poles, and just travel in a circle when seen from the north or south pole. Here is a link that explains it better than I can:
http://curious.astro.cornell.edu/question.php?number=121

Interior Residents Moving to Coast

The residents of the interior are moving to the coast in large numbers because the coast is MUCH wealthier than the interior villages. Note: the city and the districts are the same as the coast.  Resources and services in the villages are limited by the high transportation costs.  Imagine transporting medicines, school supplies, teachers (many of the teachers come from the capital) through the rainforest to small numbers of people who much lower ability to pay for those goods than the wealthier rest of the country.

The coast has electricity 24 hours a day, while many interior villages have electricity 4 hours a day. Most places along the coast have running water, but access to running water in the interior varies (residents wash in the rivers). The coast has middle and high schools (students must go the capital in order to attend country’s only university).The villages have only elementary schools, so children go to the city without their parents to continue their schooling. Kids from the interior live in internads, or group houses, when they attend school in the city. I am unsure how much adult supervision they receive, but sending twelve year olds away from their families to live with other kids and cope with new cultures and new languages often has disastrous results.

My friends had a fascinating conversation. (Peace Corps volunteers are supposed to stay out of politics. Thus I am not mentioning my opinion.) A Surinamese friend from the capital, who is black but not maroon, told us that he thinks the government should pay everyone in the interior to move to the city. “They want schools, 24/7 electricity and roads. Trying to bring all that to the interior is expensive. Let them come to the city, where all these things are already set up. Besides, letting people live in the interior means polluting the Amazon rainforest. ”

Another friend, who is American, disagreed. “Those are their ancestral lands. The land is deeply significant to them culturally. The majority of the pollution is from firms extracting resources, not from people just living there fishing. ” (Someone else pointed out later that maroons often work for the extractive firms. I think it pays better than selling crops.)

“I would not kick them off. They would get voluntary incentives to leave.”

“Yes,” replied another American friend of mine. “But, once they come to the capital, how would they support themselves? In the interior, they are subsistence farmers. They hunt and fish. How will they support themselves without grounds on which to plant crops?”  

“We’ll give them job training,” replied my Surinamese friend.

World Indigenous People's Day

July 9^th was World Indigenous people’s Day.  The day was a national holiday in Suriname, so there was a gigantic celebration in front of the palm garden and Presidential palace.  Vendors sold jewelry, traditional Amerindian clothing, and pottery.  There was also horse back riding and a merry go round for the children. 

Most importantly, there was a formal ceremony. Ambassadors from The United States and China, and representatives from French Guyana, Trinidad, and Canada were all present  as Native Americans from the US and Canada presented gifts for the President.  Government ministers  and representatives from various countries made speeches in English, Dutch and French. I was surprised that the speeches were not translated into Dutch (the national language). I wonder how many audience members could follow all three languages.

Below, tribal leaders from the US and Canada present the Unity flag as gift for the President of Suriname. A government minister accepts it on behalf of the president.

There were dance and musical performances from Suriname, Peru, Canada and the USA.  Below is a Surianamese dance.

Several other ethnic groups participated. Black and Javanese people sported Amerindian clothing. Many of the vendors  present were maroon women who had sewn Amerindian images onto traditional maroon clothing.  Javanese food was plentiful (I’ve found that non- Amerindians do not regularly eat Amerindian food, and non-maroons do not regularly eat maroon food. Everyone eats Javanese food and Chinese food.)

Puja

An anthropologist studying Hinduism and maroon religions took three friends including me to a Hindu ritual called a puja. Since I know nothing about Hinduism, please forgive me if I make any mistakes when discussing what I saw at the puja.

The worshippers were from British Guyana, so the service was held in English. The temple was in house of the Shaman, or pandit or minister (I am not sure what his title is). Only about fifteen people came, so we saw everything up close. As someone who knows almost nothing about Hinduism, I was very appreciative of the shaman’s willingness to explain the basics of the religion to us. There were about 20 statues of various gods and forms of gods around the edge of the room. The pandit named and discussed each of them.

 From left to right: Hanuman (the monkey god) is in the corner, Krishna is the blue one with the flute (Krishna is a form of Vishnu, which explains why both are blue ), Ganesha is the elephant god, Brahma (the creator) is in the middle, Vishnu (the preserver) is balancing a chakra (wheel) on his finger, and Shiva (the destroyer) is in the foreground. Here, Shiva also looks blue.

The service began with walking in 3 circles around the entire temple. The next step involved touching the feet of the statues of various deities and bowing in a specific, ritualized way. Sometimes the service leaders or ministers prayed alone, and at other times the group prayed aloud together, chanting in unison.  There were offerings of food and flowers on plates that the leaders would move clockwise in front of the deities.

Before going to the service, the anthropologist told me that many Hindus were frustrated with Christian criticisms of Hinduism that some had formed a sect of Hinduism mainly in response to those criticisms. I am unsure whether this temple was part of that response sect.

I did notice that the leaders spent a lot of time comparing Hinduism to Christianity. The Shaman called the three principle gods (Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva, ones closest to the camera)  “The Holy Trinity”. The woman who led the religious service talked to us at length about the gods being part of a larger whole. She told me that non-Hindus often ask why Hinduism has so many gods. She then explained that Hinduism actually has only one god; the various deities are different forms of that one god. Her defensive tone combined with the anthropologist’s earlier comments on Hindu frustration with Christian criticism made me wonder whether she was making a statement about Hinduism deserving as much respect as Christianity.

Or, perhaps they were simply making statements about Christianity and Hinduism being more alike than different. I was pleasantly surprised that everyone is welcome to participate regardless of religion. Many self-described Christians worship at the temple. The attitude of the shaman appears to be that faith is what matters, not how one worships or imagines god(s).  

Tapanahony: The Dance

Elliot came by. Elliot is a Peace Corps volunteer in a village near Matt. This is Elliot with me.

That weekend, the area that had been the site of somber speeches to a deceased leader became an amazing party in front of his casket. The transition from sad to happy reminded of the 2^nd lines for funerals in New Orleans. One part of the funeral is very sad and somber, but another part is a celebration of the person’s life. A band called Turbulence flew in from Jamaica just for the dance - and they sang in Njuka.

Elliot and I danced, while Matt worked at the Rasta Bar. The Rasta Bar is a tiny store that sells drinks and snacks to funeral goers.

This is Elliot with friends at the dance.

This is me at the dance with Matt’s friends.

The next night, the broko-dei was canceled. The grave collapsed, breaking one man’s leg. I hope that he is alright.

Tapanahony: The Funeral

As I mentioned earlier, the funeral lasted 3 or 4 months. Since the graanman was in power for over 40 years and widely respected throughout the country, the community needed a long time to say goodbye. The grave took a long time to dig because it was the size of a house. Four or five days a week, men would go to the grave site across the river. I watched the boats leave in the morning and return in the evening. No one was allowed to stand in the water while the grave digger’s boat was traveling to the grave site. Women would bring them lunch.

 Here is a photo of the women pounding rice together for the funeral.

When the gravedigger’s boat returned home, women stood in the river and splashed water.  Everyone else stood on the pier and watched as the boat drove in proud circles. Someone played drums, and someone dressed up. The kids loved it – they ran towards the water, then ran away and screamed when the women splashed them.  (Then the kids tripped over each other and got hurt). The place where the gravedigger’s boat returned each day was a temporary dance floor constructed just for the funeral. Several gorgeous hand-woven pangies hung from the ceiling. This area was in the village, rather than near the gravesite.

The casket had its own room facing the dance floor so that we could see it while we danced. The casket was beautiful. It was wrapped in dozens of pangies (traditional maroon cloth), and covered with a Surinamese flag. It was about 5 tall and 6 or 7 feet wide. A photo of the graanman was placed above the casket. The room had space for the graanman’s wives to sleep behind their deceased husband.

Later, several men gave speeches to the deceased graanman. They updated him on their progress in digging the grave. Photos of the casket and funeral speeches were not allowed, so I have no pictures of this.

Tapanahony: Matt’s Village and Jungle

Next, we toured his village. It is a large island with a phone tower (great phone reception), and a radio station. He showed me his favorite shady spot to sit. By the way, the bench has “fight my” written on it. There is no word written after “my”.

The Obama Restaurant:

Next he led me through the jungle. I can now officially say that I have walked through the Amazon rainforest.

Unfortunately, there are no large wild animals there. All the large animals are farther away from human settlements. However, there were some LOUD bugs.

There was also a pet monkey in the village.

Matt's Neighborhood

Matt’s neighborhood consists of jungle behind his home, several families on one side, and the moon house on the other side. The moon house is the place where menstruating women sleep. Njuka communities sometimes require menstruating women to follow a system of rules about where they can go. Sleeping in a separate house is one of those rules. Basically, Matt is lucky enough to have a rotating group of women on their periods move in next door to him each week!

These are the neighbors’ houses.

This is the view when you step outside his front door

After touring his neighborhood, we went to the river to wash dishes, and fill buckets with river water. (He bathes in the river during the day, and bathes in the shower at night using buckets of river water.)

Matt showed me the spot on the river where he was stung by a sting ray.

“Now,” he instructed, “Wade into the river chest deep and fill up the buckets with water.”

“What about the sting rays?”

“I’m sure they’re gone. Stop standing in the shallow end. The deeper water is cleaner and better for filling buckets. There are lots of other people here.”

“Yes, but all the other people are in the shallow end. There is no one else in the deep end.”

As I waded deeper into the water, one of the women washing dishes noticed my hesitancy.

“San pasa?” (What’s wrong)

“Mi fede den chopula!” (I’m afraid of sting rays!)

“Ay! Yu mus waka so.” (You must walk like this) (Njuka is an English -based language, so if it looks like a word in English, it probably represents that word)  She showed me how to kick sand in front of me and drag my toes in the dirt. Apparently, sting rays run away when kicked from the side, and attack only when stepped on from above.

I dutifully collected the water in the deep part while dragging my toes carefully.

Matt, thanks for trying to kill me.

Tapanahony: Matt's House

Matt took me across the river in his boat! Also featured in this picture is his decorated paddle.

Next, we visited his home. It is an “A frame” house with a two tables and a chair inside. He sleeps in a hammock, which he tucks in a corner each morning.  This is the outside of his house.

This is him in the back of his house, which is his kitchen area. I took the photo from the front door.

He has a latrine a few feet behind his house, and a shower area. He collects buckets of river water and brings them to his shower. This is a picture from his house looking at the latrine.

This is his latrine.

Tapanahony: The Plane Ride

First, there was the plane ride. The plane was the smallest plan I have ever been on! The plane technically had space for about 18 people.  However, since two entire rows were covered with boxes, there were only six seats available.

The view from the plane window was gorgeous.

I have been to Native American villages (like Pierre Kondre Kumbasi) but this is my first time staying in a maroon village. This is also my first time going this far south in the country. Pierre Kondre is a few hours south by bus. This section of the Tapanahony River is an hour south by plane. The environment here is completely different. Redi Doti (which is the Sranan word for red dirt) has lots of red sand. It is the savanna. The Tapanahony River has more mud and some white sand.

When I landed, Matt greeted me at the airstrip, which is not technically in his village. Matt’s village is an island surrounded on either side by the Tapanahony River. The strip is a field next to an elementary school on the mainland.  This photo was taken from the airstrip, looking across that river at Matt’s village.

Broko dei fu a Graanman Intro

I visited Matt, a Peace Corps volunteer in a village on the Tapanahony River (where the funeral is taking place), for a few days during the broko-dei for the graanman of the Njuka people. A broko-dei is a maroon funeral. The Njuka people are descendents of escaped slaves (maroons) who hid in the interior of Suriname. Funerals are typically weeklong celebrations of the life of the deceased. The word broko-dei literally means “break the day” because family members party in front of the casket until dawn. In the interior, the head political figure is called a graanman (like grand man). Since the graanman of the Njuka people was a public figure who was in power for over 40 years, his broko-dei has been a several month long event. He died in 2011, and the funeral is still going on in March of 2012.  

Zoo

I visited the Paramaribo zoo with several friends. We found it funny that so many wild animals that did NOT belong to the zoo had come to the zoo looking for food that people drop. There were stray dogs, birds, and even monkeys. One wild parrot flew down to stare at the caged zoo parrots.
There were wild squirrel monkeys hanging out in a huge tree across from the caged zoo monkeys. The wild monkeys did not appreciate being photographed. When throwing food at us did not work, they tried peeing on us, since they were in a huge tree overhead. Actually, I was not beneath them. I decided not to dodge monkey pee, so I backed away. I did not get any photos of that ignorant mess. Oh well.

Pink Bananas!

These are my personal statements and do not reflect the opinions of PeaceCorps.

I am a Peace Corps volunteer in Suriname. Suriname contains a massive amount of unspoiled Amazon rainforest. This place has the most beautiful plants I have ever seen.  My personal favorites were the pink bananas I saw yesterday.

I have stopped working with the schools in the district. I was teaching biweekly typing lessons at a primary school and a junior high school / high school. There was a HUGE range of skill levels. Some kids had never used computer before while others had their own computers at home. On Fridays I worked with the teachers on Powerpoint, Excel, Word and Google. The hope was to eventually train them to teach the lessons in my place.

Now, I have moved to the city.

Yesterday I visited a flower shop. I thought it was a small indoor flower shop selling fresh cut flowers like the ones in the US.  Instead, it was a huge outdoor field, and all the flowers were still on the trees. The walkway through it was like a giant maze, so they hung traditionally decorated cloth (Maroon cloth is called pangie or kosu, Javanese cloth is called batik) to keep us from getting lost.
Along the way, I tried guava jelly/ jam/ marmalade (not sure which one) and awara juice. Awara looks like an orange but tastes like a mix of melon with citrus. 

At the end of the maze was food stand with performers. I saw a traditional Amerindian dance.