Introduction

What this represents is the journal I wrote while we were in the Peace Corps from October 25th, 1982 until December 1984.   Originally  I was just going to scan and present the actual written pages but after checking what the scanned PDF's would look like, I decided I would transcribe them for easier reading.  HOWEVER, my plan is to retain the misspellings, the poor grammar and syntax which might drive the real authors among you to squirm a bit, but I decided to stick with the plan as is.

I also plan to add pictures but I need to convert the slides we have into digital images.  So, at some point you'll not only get a narrative but some images as well to help you on the journey.  I haven't enabled comments or ratings on the pages, but I might at some point do that.  

I knew this date was coming for years and always planned to transcribe and present the journal, but as most plans go, the date approached while I was busy with life.  I'll try to keep up going forward.

Oct 26 1982

Just got back from the clinic. Funny how its been what I have dreaded and hoped for for these last 5 months. But it wasn’t bad at all. Typhoid, Diptheria, Tenanus, polio and (last, but certainly not the least) yellow fever innoculations this morning given to us by Barbara the Health rep from Washington, D.C. She’s a good lady who firmly told us that if we did not show up on time, the useful life of the Yellow Fever innoculation would expire and someone (who did not make it on time) would also expire as a volunteer. She only had this one batch and after it was mixed she had one hour to innoculate all 77 of us. Deb and I were 3rd and 4th in line. We wanted to get it over with so we could get to the bank and cash our checks. I want to go on, but this journal should have been started 5 months ago. So I am going to back up and highlight some of the reasons and steps it took to join the Peace Corps.

Peace Corps was just another another option in a whole list of where do we go from here? Possibilities. Debbie and I were soon to graduate from the University of Utah and being newlyweds (6 mos) and childless we were anxious to explore those possibilities before getting tied down in the usual 9-5 workday life that most people expect and accept as ‘proper’. However, Deb & I felt most blessed by God in having those diplomas, good health, a house, two cars, etc. etc. We realized that there much more to the world than the Salt Lake Area could contribute and, that if we were ever to do something slightly adventurous in our need to share our blessings we’d darn well better do it now.

So, out of the other possibilities of Lutheran World Mission, traditional employment or just following Debbies Physical Therapy skills to wherever they would take us, the Peace Corps called us back. They were interested and they wanted to interview us as soon as possible. Problem was that Deb was in Indiana on a PT affiliation for 5 weeks. So I called the recruitment Rep (Dick Arent) and told him to give us a call the Monday after Deb got home.

He did call and after two hours of trying to generate sincere and well-thought-out answers, Deb and I were nominated to the Peace Corps Eastern Caribbean program. Whew! Step one was complete. Except one thing. We weren’t sure what we’d be doing. First I was considered the primary person in our placement. “Well, no we don’t really need personnel types but your background is technical so you can teach math”. Then Debbie’s Physical Therapy prevailed, as I knew it would, and I became the “non-matrixed spouse”. (They knew I was part of the package but didn’t know what to do with me.) But they’d have something for me by the time we got to the islands.

Step two was a bit more complex and about twenty times more frustrating than being nominated for a program. But, knowing that the U.S. Government thrives on paper and given the seemingly endless forms that needed to be filled out to just apply for the Peace Corps, I shouldn’t have been surprized at the paperwork which followed our nomination.

It began with our “medical kit” which followed the letter stating “you should have received your medical kit in the mail, if you have not…” A few phone calls and the kits were there within a week. We were “under the gun” though. Close of invitation (the date by which we had to have all of our information in) was Aug. We needed to get all the Medical and Dental exams completed by that date and if you’ve ever tried to get in to see a doctor for a non-emergency, routine physical exam in less than three weeks, you can imagine our apprehension. The dental exam was easier but much more expensive. Peace Corps pays for the exam and x-rays but will not pay for treatments. So $250 later we had our Dental clearance. The Physical was a bit more tricky to schedual, was cheaper but almost lost the invitation for us. Peace Corps pays for the exam and x-rays or you can go to a Gov’t military installation for free. We opted for the latter and anyone who has experienced the assembly line, de-humanizing physicals the army performs will identify with our Sunday morning ordeal. The biggest dissapointment we had was that, upon inspecting the form, we found several important items could not be handled there. Most notably, uranalisis and pelvic exams (for Deb). With a vacation a day away and the deadline falling on a day on which we would be in Minnesota, Deb’s results were still somewhere in California and my “sample” was dropped off at a friends house (who happened to be a Med. Tech) My friend, Kay, would drop off my results to my pastor, who would pick up Debbies results at Planned Parenthood and put it all in the mail (in a $9.50 express package) which would immediately whisk it to Washington. With that done, Deb and I took off on our “tour” to see relatives we would not see for two years while in the P.C. and just to relax and wait to hear the “Big News”.

I called Pastor Paul on Tuesday. “Yes” he said “its all in the mail. I mailed it last night at 5pm. Should be in Washington this morning if the guarantee is true”. “Great!” I said. I’ll call them tomorrow (just to be on the safe side) that would be Wednesday and give them ‘til Sunday which would be plenty of time to evaluate us and clear us for an invitation. So Weds morning I called Washington. “No” the voice tolled “we don’t have it. Could be its stuck in the mail room” I explained to him that it was sent to the office direct by express mail and that it should circumvent the mail room. Besides, it was guaranteed. “Well” he replied “nothing was guaranteed”. He went on to explain that the mail, even if sent direct, usually got sent back to the mail room. So even if it did arrive on Tuesday, it wouldn’t escape the mail room until Thursday earliest. “Wonderful” I said and hung up. My $9.50 had bought me no time. I’d call ‘em on Thursday.

Thursday produced similar results but Friday the tardy package arrived. “Great” I yelled into the phone. “So we made it on time?” “Well,” the voice disinterestedly drolled “we’ve got it but we’re so backlogged that I really doubt we’ll get to see it. Maybe Monday” “But my close of invitation is on Sunday” I nearly screamed into the phone. “Sorry, it’s the best I can do”. The phone went dead and so did my dreams of becoming a volunteer.

By Tuesday of the next week they still hadn’t looked at it. We called them from a phone booth near Bismark, North Dakota. My recruiting rep couldn’t be reached. It was a long drive back to Salt Lake City.

Thursday I got a hold of Rick, my recruiter. He was sorry to put me through it all but he had made a mistake when he had told me the close of invitation date. We still had three weeks before our paperwork was due in. “The bright side of all of this” he explained “is that your stuff is in early so you’ll have an advantage over other nominees”. I didn’t know whether to kiss him or punch him in the face. Step two was done.

The day after close of invitation I called Washington. Yes they said they were happy to tell me that my wife and I were nominated to the Eastern Caribbean program and were to report for staging in Miami on Oct 25th. And so step three began.

We closed on the sale of our house (a risky two months before we even heard about our invitation. We had sold the house to close on Oct 1st) and moved the non-necessities into storage. Notices of our termination went to our employers and we moved in with my parents for the interim. Suddenly this Peace Corps thing was becoming real. We had a thousand things to complete in the three weeks before we left. Power of Attorney to grant, bills to pay, a car to sell, things to pack and store, mailing lists to update. It was nearly endless. The final two days were spent just packing & organizing and trying to be with my family as much as possible. An early Christmas was held and we were given more things to pack and after a very very tearful parting, we were on the plane for Chicago to spend an evening with more of my relatives before flying to Miami the next day.

When we arrived in Miami we began to notice those around us who had that “volunteer look”. Tired confused but happy and looking positive. Several busloads departed for the hotel where we were staying and we met several volunteers on our own very slow bus to hotel. The 20 min trip took an hour and a half and we arrived 15 minutes before the first meeting at 3pm. Barely enough time to check in and drop off our large volume of baggage.

The meeting was a revalation that I’m still trying to assimilate. I was surprized not only at the diversity of backgrounds (which I expected) but also the the ages of the volunteers. It ran from 22 to 78. With a larger number of couples (like Deb and I) than I imagined. Even a couple that had been married a week! But it was an interesting afternoon & evening. It calmed some fears & answered some questions. Exausted, we went to be at 9pm.

Which bring us back to date. My arm is sore from the shots and writing. More later.

 

Oct 29 1982

Things have been moving rather rapidly around here. The two additional days of comprehensive staging here have come and gone. Wednesday was filled with last minute paperwork. Legal hassels, even the most minor traffic violation or unpaid parking ticket, must be taken care of or you can’t go. Your NAC (National Agency Check) must be complete or you can’t go. If you use drugs you’re terminated. If you ride a motorcycle without a helmet, you’re terminated. Seems like either you can’t go or you will be terminated are the two most often used threats against a volunteer. Seems to work. All of us have been OK’d for Jamaica, save one. Mary.

Mary was a true, strong-willed, stubborn, chain smoking Californian. She must have been about 60 plus years old (although certainly not the eldest). Apparently she was an art major and potter. She had been brought on board because she was to teach pottery skills to locals on the islands. We were having a discussion on culture and, in particular, on local dress when Mary brought up a question on wearing pants. “Well, yes, pants were permissable on women in certain situations” but she could be required to wear a skirt or dress in other circumstances. Apparently Mary’s sense of personal freedom was offended and she was agast at the possibility of wearing a dress, for the next day she was no longer attending our meetings. Mary was gone back to California. Flexibility and willingness to adapt to local custom being key traits of a successful volunteer.

Mary’s reluctance to give up some of her freedom really pointed up our eager pursuit of bondage. We would give up some of our 1st Amendment rights. Rights to talk politics and religion, with the intent of conversion at least. We always had to provide a disclaimer that it was our opinion and not that of the U.S. Government. We could not involve ourselves in local politics for fear of being interpreted as U.S. foreign policy. We were all required to give up something. Mary was an extreme in inflexibility but a valuable lesson to us all…

With paranoia at going the ‘way of Mary’, we boarded the plane to Jamaica with as open and flexible attitude as we could muster.

Nov 1st 1982

I was talking about money & currency because I didn’t have the energy. Energy is hard to come by also. Whether it be personal energy or public energy. The heat seems to sap you of all strength. It also prevents me from moving because to move generates discomfort. I’ve been uncomfortable alot lately. The mosquitos seem to come in clouds, the humidity must be 90% and the dogs bark continuously after sundown. Of those things most often mentioned by volunteers it must be the mosquitos, dogs and heat. The heat is an expectation. The humidity also, but the mosquitos are much more fierce than anticipated and the constantly barking dogs are a true surprize. The family that Deb & I stay with has 6 dogs and the probability that one or more of six dogs will bark for 10 mins at least once an hour must be close to 100%. Of all the nights spent here in Jamaica, not one has been without a barking dog or 10. Seems to me that they should eat dogs. It would cut down on the noise and increase the meat supply.

Nov 2 1982

Dogs and more dogs. And things are mellowing a bit. I should say something about our ‘host’ family. Joan is the head of the household and has a daughter Qun (Kwan). Qun is sixteen. Joan also has a sister who lives in. Her name is Angela. Now, of all of them, Angela is the most open & friendly (at least initially) Deb & I went to church last Sunday with Joan and Qun (Angela doesn’t go, she is kind of a renegade). Anyway, Joan had said that the service was loud and long. The church’s name was “Miracle Church of God” The miracle was that we survived.

Initially it was just the discomfort of being the only white faces in a sea of black. The songs were different and sung in the style of “Southern Baptist” tradition of loud, hand clappin, foot stompin’ music. However, as time went on, Deb and I realized that there was more to this church than it’s music. People were soon jumping and yelling. Speaking in tongues and rolling on the floor. It was really quite a display. The service ended two and a half hours after its beginning. We’ll try the community church next week. It, at least, sounds safer.

The training in Sligoville is OK. Not great, just OK. There is a great deal of morale problem. The objectives are not real clear. The presentation is a bit too cold and mechanical. A lot of attention is paid to process but on a rather superficial level. The morale problem should have surfaced by now but the trainers are either unaware or not interested. I don’t know. But there is a lot of talk of dropping a “bomb” on them.

All the trainers are quite friendly and for the most part understandable (I find most Jamaicans unintelligible but I’m getting better). Rudy is the most interesting character. He’s the only American (though he’s black) and I’m glad to listen to him speak with a rather thick American accent. With a full beard and graying afro he is supposedly the most “radical” looking of the bunch. Sensitive and direct, Rudy is my most favorite trainer though he rarely deals with us directly. Winston is the eldest of the staff and his “Queens English” impeccable. Winston used to work for the Ministry of Agriculture before joining CHP. He is a wise, gentle man whos words carry great weight. Especially among “hard core” AG’s. Wish I was involved with agriculture projects. I may yet be.

Nov 7th

Went to church today at the Anglican church. 7Am is a bit early to be wanderin around Spanish Town but the service was familiar enough to be worth it. It was nothing like last Sunday.

Went to Ocho Rios yesterday. It was really quite a shock. Ocho Rios is such a pretty area. It was difficult to get used to seeing so many different white faces. I honestly had not seen another white person (outside of the PC trainees) for a couple of weeks. They all looked so awkward and bizarre looking in their tourist get ups. Everything was so expensive. The worst part was the beggars & locals asking (repeatedly) if we had money to change or if we wanted to buy sinsemilla. It was not only the request but the frequency of it that bothered me. I got very tired saying “No”. The worst thing is the guilt as if I should be guilty for being American. Sometimes, I think I should.

For the first time, and probably not the last, I’ve been having a homesick/wanting-to-leave feeling. Culturally, I’m feeling much better. At first the “black faces” made me uncomfortable. But the trips into the market & streets of Spanish Town have quelled most of my discomfort. I’m still not as assertive as I would be with white people, but I’m working on it. My biggest complaint is with the climate. I have been plagued with mosquito bites and sweated many a nite away, wrapped in sheets trying to keep from being bit. The fan in our room has removed some of the discomforts from both sources but, when I think about the house we’ll have on our island my outlook is not so gloomy. We brought enough netting to do ten or more windows (if necessary) And I guess I’m more interested in getting settled in than anything else. I want a place of my own again. I can then start to deal with the elements.

The only cultural suprise in Ocho Rios was the discovery of “nudity” here in Jamaica. Actually it could be termed a lack of modesty (in U.S. terms) when showering. On several occations I observed women bare breasted and washing in the public showers. I was quite taken aback and surprised to have no mention of it in our training. Everyday has been quite an experience.

Nov 9, 1982

The ride up to the training center is quite an experience. The road btween Spanis Town & Sligoville is not necessarily in bad shape, but rather it is its narrow design and tortuous route, which it winds up the mountain to Sligoville, Traffic is not very heavy, yet each ride is a new experience in anxiety. More so for the trip down than during the trip up. The vehicle is so busy trying to stay on the road while we wind past the myriad of pedestrians that each time that an oncoming vehicle is encountered the word fear is given a whole new meaning. Fortunately we’ve had no mishaps, yet.

The training center itself is a thing of beauty. It is perched atop a hill (mountain) )which overlooks Kingston and Spanish Town. With the recent rains and cool weather, fog & clouds, often partly obscure the towns & gives a translucent, surrealistic look. It reminds me very much of Salt Lake. It doesn’t do much to relieve my homesickness.

The homesickness comes and goes. When the mosquitos are biting, the heat and high humidity high, the dogs yowling at night, I remember the cool, clean quite dry climate of SLC. After living through a hot summer and feel the cool, colorful beginnings of fall just to be plunged into a hot summer again (which is cooler now) is a bit of an environmental shock. My initial reaction was to go home. I have since mellowed, I’d like to go home as soon as practical. Next X-mas seems much too long, but it will go fast. I just hope we can get the money together.

The training pushes on. It’s now week #2 and, with all of our anxieties expressed, we’ve settled in for the long haul. We continue to be decadent Americans. Constantly planning parties and trips to tourist areas. The Jamaica World Music Festival is coming up in two weeks and several trainees are planning to go to Montego Bays to join in the festivities. The biggest problem is that the American Embassey is having its Thanksgiving Day celebration the same day. We’re supposed to be there. Deb and I have volunteered to do some cooking for one of the 20 turkeys. Wow! After so much turkey before I left the states, I thought I’d never want to eat it again...I was wrong.

Nov 12 1982

Even though we learn more & more each day, it becomes less and less distinct from the rest of our experiences. We’ve adjusted to Jamaican life. At least to where the surroundings & people aren’t a constant surprize. Perhaps it is just due to the constant assault of our new experiences. We’re just overloaded.

The training routine has become somewhat tedious. Some of the info is new. Some I’ve seen before. Combine that with anxiety about getting “in country” and you have a general restlessness.

Nov 13 1982

That restlessness is tempered somewhat by excursions into the countryside. Today Deb & I (with Julie and Dan) went to Port Antonio as much to see more of Jamaica as it was to get away from the dogs and pressures of staying at the Waugh’s. Unfortunately, they have dogs in Port Antonio too. Some right behind the Montevin Lodge. I’m hoping the dogs are better behaved.

The trip was as eventful as I expected. A well packed standing room only crowd on the way to Kingston “step forward please”. Then a 45 minute swelter in a minibus as it was packed for departure. As we waited we were assaulted with a continuous line of vendors hawking everything from Wrigleys chewing gum to sensemilla.

Finally, when the driver decided we were “well-done”, he proceeded on through the streets of Kingston. Through the thriving sidewalk markets over the potholes and down one way streets (the wrong way). We were on our way to Hope Bay. The drive was as uneventful (in Jamaican terms) as most rides are here. Except for an encounter with a similar sized bus heading the opposite direction at a very narrow sections of the road, at which the drive exchanged words and it retreated, the trip was fine.

We arrived at Hope Bay about a ½ mile past the point at which we needed to get off. Hope Bay is a small village situated between an extinct volcano and the ocean. The condition of the town was typical of most small, rural Jamaican villages. Everything seems to have been built 40 years ago. There are very few “new” buildings. Most look recycled. The guest house we sought turned out to be a bit more isolated than we wished. Though it looked in relatively good condition. So we packed ourselves into a VW microbus (very suspicious looking) and proceeded into Port Antonio.

Our first encounter was with Benjamin, a local who offered his escort services (for a fee). After assuring him of his worthiness and our poverty, we set out for the Montevin Lodge to set up for our overnight retreat.

Nov 17 1982

The weekend in Port Antonio was well worth the time and expense. The night was cool and very quiet. No dogs no hassles. It was wonderful. In addition, we had a chance to take some relaxing walks with few solicitations to buy Ganja or change U.S. dollars. I was very glad we went. I was well rested upon our return. The freq. headaches I had experienced due to lack of sleep (canine induced insomnia) have temporarily disappeared. A mid-training break, well needed.

I’m still not feeling this terrible culture shock I’ve been anticipating and which has been alluded to in training. Whatever it is, it must be more than just adjusting to food, barking dogs, packed buses the general runnings of this place. If it is more, I am not seeing it. I guess that worries me.

Today we went to UWI to check it out and do some research. Deb went to the hospital then to the PT school. I wandered around campus and went to the library. Ill be going back next week. The most anticipated activity was the afternoon relaxation at the New Kingston Hotel. A little swimming, a few drinks and finally, a pizza for dinner. Its just what I needed to shake off the hot, sweaty, dirty bus rides around. A bit of decadence is all that bad. Besides, we found out its only $98 Jai to stay the night. We’ll be back next weekend (turkey day) and stay! Hot water and A/C just one more time.

Nov 21 1982

It’s peculiar how I’ve been preoccupied with enjoying ‘the comforts of life’. I’m afraid its culture shock but not quite the kind I had expected. I had guessed, perhaps wrongly, the I would be overwhelmed by how different the Jamaican and the E.C. culture would be. The shock would be in the obvious dis-similarities in lifestyle. Thats definitely not true. The shock is in the subtle differences between the U.S. & E.C. Singly, the differences are not much to sneeze at. But when taken as a whole, its almost too much to deal with. Our need to escape to a lifestyle more ‘compatible’ with our histories, is an indication that we are suffering from culture shock. We tired of living with and indifferent family who doesn’t talk to us, tired of being called Jake. Tired of being asked to buy sensimilla or cocaine. I could go on but suffice it to say that we are tired of dealing with those things which go with living as an expatriot in the E.C. Thats the culture shock. It’s not the differences that burns you out. Its a very insideous kind of “shock”.

Well, anyway, Deb and I are at that point. Where it almost seems easier to go home rather than to stay. Where having to deal with it is much harder than to escape from it. Our host family situation plus our homesickness is enough to break the camels back, almost. I’m not quite sure why we haven’t decided to go home. Perhaps its because we hope things will improve when we get in country. Perhaps its because we know that its and expectation that, from time to time, we’ll suffer from culture shock. Its all part of the job, the experience called Peace Corps. Mostly, its the knowledge that whatever the reason for joing the Peace Corps, it must’ve been of greater weight than a few mosquitos & a bunch of barking dogs. At least, thats what I feel now. In the midst of a pack of barking, flea bitten mongrels, its a completely different story.

Needless to say, I am anxious to find ;home’ in St Lucia, St Vincent, St Anywhere. We have 9 days left. About 7 too many but sooner than I’ll know we;ll be sworn in in Barbados and packed off to our respective islands.

Nov 24 1982

Well, I successfully passed my 27th birthday without complications. We had a morning at the UWI and spent the afternoon at the New Kingston Hotel. If it wasn’t for this flu bug I’ve had for two days, it would have been a perfect day. How many birthdays will I spend lounging poolside in Jamaica. The answer to that was reason enough to count my blessing fir the day. Besides with Deb there & a bunch of other trainees (who bought me a drink) it was a very good time. I was expecting a great deal of depression in not having family around nor the ‘usual’ trappings of a birthday. Actually the day passed as I wished it to. It wasn’t terribly painful.

The realities of the morning kind of cast off any possiblity of retaining a celebratory state. Joan was raggin to Debbie about using too small of a load ub the washing machine. Heck, short of packing it in with a 2X4, we have been overloading it. I would guess that the light bill came yesterday and Joan hit the ceiling. Shes trying to blame it all on us. We are hardly here at all and only use a fan to keep the mosquitos off. My guess is that it is her tube-jocking daughter who is the culprit. Regardless, I resent this woman for her responsibility shifting. She asked us to stay here. If she can’t live with that decision, then she ought to tell Pearl (the placement person) to move us. We wouldn’t mind moving. With the “silent” treatment plus the resentful looks and accusatory remarks, we would be glad to move. We’ve only 7 days left. Its almost a lifetime.

Outside of host family problems, were doing OK. I believe Im settling in (initially) to the West Indian lifestyle. Granted some things are difficult to deal with, but if I can remove most of the environmental stress (dogs & mosquitos in particular) I believe I can handle the rest.

 

Nov 30 (week to date, Embassy & T-Day, Man showin house)

The last day of training! I thought I’d never see the day. I realized I had been quite remiss in keeping up to date in the Journal. A week has passed and I haven’t written. First though I need to review the past week to see where I am at. The training for the rest of the last week was uneventful. We’ve been getting quite restless to to finish up and it was quite evident that most of the trainees would’ve rather been somewhere else.

Somewhere else is where Deb & I went to spend the weekend. We both went down to Kingston toe cook for the PC Thanksgiving Day Party. We went on Friday night to begin cooking and by the time we located the P.C. Office, found lodgings fir the night and began to prepare food at the Mutual Life Bldg it was 7:30. We only had use of the building until 8:30. So our assistance that evening was short lived.

We stayed at a volunteers house in Kingston. Her name was Jan and her roommate was gone for the weekend & since their place had been broken into on a few occasions she wanted someone to stay with her. Unfortunately, she had a host of other “roommates” which were in the form of small blackish caterpillars similar to inch worms. There were hundreds in the house which made a peculiar “popping” sound when stepped on. They didn’t bite. They weren’t the least bit aggressive yet it was somewhat unsettling to see these minute creatures creeping along the floors and walls. Jan didn’t wear shoes which made the popping noises beneath her feet even more distracting. Fortunately the little beasts were quite harmless. Our mosquito netting tucked beneath the mattress provided plenty of protection from the inquisitive creepers. I slept soundly.

The next day proved busy. We spent hours peeling pre-cooked yams which were slimy & difficult to handle. Since I detest yams in general, the task was less than pleasant. Having survived that ordeal, Deb & I retired to the Pegasus where we were to spend the night. After a brief dip in the pool, we cleaned up and went to the dinner. What a feast! Two heaping plates & about a half a pie later I lay satiated watching the talent show and many drunk trainees stagger about.

 

Dec. 1 1982

For the last day in Jamaica, it’s been rather trying . Got a letter from Gram saying that Dad was going to have a hernia operation but not saying when. I called this morning to find out that Dad was in the hospital & already had the surgery. I realized that there is an additional frustration to living outside the U.S. Being incommunicado id one of the toughest barriers to face here in Jamaica. Granted a phone call takes only a minute to get through but its expensive. And again, the money is not important if an emergency existed. However its not knowing how serious or whether or not a phone call would alleviate the anxiety. Fortunately, this morning I called from the PC office (for free). I had a long talk with mom & spoke briefly with Todd and Hol Most of the anxieties were alleviated.

 

Dec 9 1982

Its been quite some time in between entries. I’m concerned that it will become the rule rather than the exception. Much, much has ensued in the past week. All of it good!

The flight from Jamaica was uneventful yet very beautiful. It was a rather long (2hr) flight and gave us a chance to “change gears”. I found myself wishing that it was taking us back to Salt Lake City. I was quite homesick & anxious about going to Barbados where we would find out what & where we doing and going. It gave me time to think about my commitment & how Jamaica had influenced my perception of the West Indies. I was till uncertain about whether or now I could perform as a PCV or deal with the West Indian environment. I remember being very hopeful & anxious about or assignment.

Antigua, where we stopped over briefly, was our first indication that things were improving. It was a beautiful airport facility. Clean and well maintained. I had the first stirrings of hope that the EC was better than Jamaica, and not worse than our Jamaican experience as we had been led to believe. Perhaps our assignment island would be a paradise.

Once landed in Barbados, we quickly found out about our assignments. We were to be stationed in St. Vincent. What I was going to do was something vaguely connected to the Ministry of Finance but beyond that things became “fuzzy”.

Dec 11 1982

We had a confused and brief swearing-in ceremony at the P.C. office in Bridgetown. The reception following was the best part. Millers High Life & a lot of free Pepsi. A good deal of food. The best thing was that we were now official Peace Corps Volunteers. The last hurdle in becoming PCV’s had been passed. The first hurdles in being PCV”s were yet to come. The evening passed rather languidly. We took a swim in the ocean. We were trundled off to the airport to recover some lost luggage. Deb and I said a few good byes to those going off to the islands other than St. Vincent and we went to bed.

Next morning was spent in last minute packing, drinking coffee and getting checked in at the airport. Deb, Babe and I had breakfast at the airport to spend the last of our Barbados dollars & talk about being on St. Vincent. About 9:15a we boarded a trusty LIAT airplane and quickly got off the ground for a 45min flight to St. Vincent. We were almost “home”.

“Home” turned out to be beautiful! Kingstown & St. Vincent turned out to be much more than we expected. Clean, small & rather “quaint” we liked St. Vincent immediately. No hassles on the street. No piles of garbage lying around. Friendly people. Beautiful scenery.

Out homestay was less positive at first. Both Mr & Mrs Duncan are quite nice but both are rather old & prone to talk at length. Repeat themselves & forget things. But both were much, much nicer than our other homestays. They have a 31 year old daughter that live at home with them. Hildred function at the level of a 5 years old. She is a “downs” child with other handicaps. My biggest problem is that I have difficulty dealing with elderly and handicapped people. Seems the Lord is giving me the opportunity to overcome my personal handicaps. Within a few hours though, I felt at home.

The priority for the week was to find permanent housing. We looked immediately at an unfurnished but beautiful place in Cane Gardens. But, given our incomes & the cost of just the ‘basics’ we couldn’t afford the $300/mo rent. During the week Mr Samuel, our island coordinator, was pre occupied with placing two other, older couples in houses. By weeks end we were the only people without housing.

Fortunately the other daughter of our host family knew of a place available in Edinborough just a 10 min walk from the hospital. It was an ideal place. A large yard. Lots of fruit trees & supposedly new renovated. Best of all it was right on the sea. We looked at it this morning and it was less than ideal or renovated. Biggest problem is its placement. Right next to a place called the Ambassadors Club. I guess the whole community is vexed by the noise it produces. Noise being one of my problem areas, I didn’t want to take it. But my silence was interpreted as consent by Debbie so we agreed to try it. With 9 mornings coming up I have a feeling it will be the Residence Halls all over again.

So once again it with great anxiety that I looked toward the future on St. Vincent. My position, as it turns out, is in Human Resources so perhaps that will provide some stability in my new life as a Vincentian.

Dec 21 1982

Its been too long again. Much has happened. Much of it positive. We decided to take the house in Edinboro. The Ambassadors Club next door has been vexing at times. With Nine Mornings going on, sleep has been a rather difficult commodity to obtain lately. However, Deb & I decided it wasn’t enough of a problem to warrant our moving out permanently. We made arrangements with Dick and Ann Bienamen to stay with them should the noise become overwhelming. We haven’t needed the ‘retreat’ yet. But with Nine Mornings coming to a close, the partying could become heavy, so we’ll take it a day at a time.

Psychologically, its been an up & down time for me. Since I have yet to begin work I have a lot of free time to do as I please. I’ve been trying to keep busy with shopping for kitchen necessities and bread making basics. I’ve been walking around town & also baking bread. I’ve also tried keeping busy reading and writing (though not in this journal as much as I should). My days tend to go quickly which is nice but though I may be physically busy, mentally I wander and it has caused me some pain. I tend to either dwell on the past and conjure memories of winter & Christmas’s past. Or I look forward to the next Christmas back in Salt Lake. Skiing, relaxing & consuming large quantities of Fritos, French onion dip and Tab. I do miss the American lifestyle I gave up. Sometimes I miss it more than I miss the people. I miss the security of being with a large number of Americans in secure houses in which bugs are not rampant. I miss the information on TV, newspaper, radios, magazines. Those things are available but at such a cost as to be out of reach to a PCV. Deb and I are considering buying a radio which may well cost $100 for a very basic unit. But we feel so cut off from the mainstream of local & world events that its important to us to get a radio. Likewise for a Newsweek subscription… These things (and I could dwell on them) have put me on an emotional and psychological roller coaster. I go from feeling OK & secure to a simpering sobbing ‘wimp’ in seconds. Certain words, or thoughts send tears welling up in my eyes. I’m not certain of the cause but I can recognise that I am the only one controlling it and although its difficult, I must not dwell on negative thoughts or be preoccupied with memories. When I deal with the reality of being here is when I function the best. The trick is to remain in that mode.

Experientially, St. Vincent is a marvel. I honestly do enjoy the island & the folks that live here. Indeed, my American, white minority status places me in a position of harassment or ridicule by young men Vincentians who wish to test their masculinity & status. No doubt the situation is a photo-negative of the U.S. Southern states environment in the 60’s. I thought I was used to being discriminated against in Utah. But the ‘discrimination’ here is of a different sort and only practiced by the young. So far I haven’t been overly intimidated but I’ll need God’s strength at the first confrontation.

Another kind of experience happened last Saturday. Deb and I went skin diving and haven’t quite been the same since. The coral and sponge as well as the multitude of fish was over whelming. I’ve done fresh water snorkeling but it hasn’t anything to compare to snorkeling in the E.C. It was beautiful and beautiful is such a lame word to describe it. The incredible variety of fish as well as the other sea life is too numerous to even begin to describe. It was almost a spiritual experience. Needless to say, Debbie and I have been total converts to skin diving & immediately bought the necessary equipment. Another diversion to fill our free time...I’m beginning to doubt whether we’ll have any.

Christmas approaches rapidly and still I haven’t decided on any gift(s) for Debbie. The feeling of being in the Christmas ‘spirit’ comes and goes. I face much the same frustration I do in the states. An inner need to seek out the roots of Christ-mas; the birth of Christ. Actually in faithfulness to Christ I have been a miserable failure. I need to re-connect to my faith and the church. No doubt both will be closely connected. I look eagerly toward that for I do miss the Zion family I left behind.

Dec 27th, 1982

Bank holiday today (Boxing Day whatever that is…) so Deb and I are lethargically wandering about the house trying to find stuff to keep busy. Not that there isn’t anything to do. But the weather is rather threatening & it’s been raining on & off this morning. We were hoping to do the remaining wash and some much needed yard work but instead we’re taking care of needed indoor necessities.

I successfully made it through Christmas! Successful in that I wasn’t a blubbering idiot all Christmas day. Actually Christmas day & eve went rather quickly and with a minimum of tears. It was a nostalgic time but without the negativism I anticipated. It was very different from any other Christmas I had remembered in the past. We were not only in a completely different culture & country, we were also in a different climate so that almost everything was a new experience for us which makes the memories of the past that much more inviting. Somehow I managed to avoid a preoccupation with x-mas past and dealt with Christmas Present. We had an interesting and very filling x-mas eve party with other PCV’s and some local folks plus a delegation from Taiwan (who were friends of the host). The Taiwanese whipped up some stir fried vegetables & beef. Along with tongue and fish. Marion, Guy’s girlfriend made some Dutch treats. I brought bread and some folks brought local specialties. It was a very ethnically rich evening and very pleasant too. It very much seemed like Christmas. The midnight mass at the Anglican church, though long, was very festive and moving. We went to Joan & Greg Klebes after and had some cheesecake and watched them open presents. We got home at about 3am and tried to sleep until about 9am. Deb and I spent most of Christmas Day just cooking. We made the following (for the record): Roast duckling, corn, mashed potatoes, rolls, cinnamon current bread, apple pie. It was a wonderful festive meal (we took pictures, too) and ate until well stuffed. It took 7 hours to prepare and a ½ hour to eat. But it was wonderful and Deb and I had a good day together. Christmas night we tried to call stateside but the circuits were busy. We talked to Mrs. Douyon and then went to the Duncans. All in all, I was pleased with the day but glad it had passed. Sunday we called home and found that (at least in Chicago) it was 64° on x-mas day. About 11° cooler than here but at least it was a non-traditional day for them too.

Now that the holidays have almost passed, I try to gear myself for the long haul. Having successfully passed the rather high emotional hurdle of Christmas, I now need to face the fact of day to day living in St. Vincent. Christmas has been an immediate short term problem on which I have concentrated and little else has been on my mind. Now I need to look forward to beginning work, getting the garden going, the chickens going, etc Now I must live here and I am a bit intimidated by it. I still find myself looking toward next Christmas home in the states. I look toward COS that will follow 11 months later. I find myself trying to whittle that 2 years into manageable chunks so that our stay will pass quickly. As much to get back to the states as to see how we did for our 2 years in the Peace Corps. I’m anxious to get this two years over to see how we fared. Its also a bit intimidating to think that I’ll begin to look for work in just 18 mos. I’m hoping that the US/World economy has rebounded by then but it still looks rather bleak at this end. We made need to make Peace Corps a career.

Jan 4 1983

Well, we’ve made it into the new year. The days pass so quickly when I look into my journal and see that it has been more than a week since I have written. But day by day I feel that time is moving too slowly. It’s probably because I’m anxious to be home. Not in a negative sense. I don’t want to be home to be away from St. Vincent. It’s because I miss my family and the states so much. But that feeling is changing somewhat. A month or so ago it was an emotional and intellectual yearning for home. Its now sublimated into more of a gut level, almost internalized feeling of need Almost a hunger...I wonder if I’ll just have the feeling soon, without knowing why…

Work begins for me tomorrow. I’m quite anxious. The music next door isn’t helping that much either. Seems they chose the worst time to be noisy. I’ve got a feeling that we’re going to confront those folks. ‘We’ meaning the community of Edinboro. It would be useless for just me to complain. I think there are others here that are pretty fed up with having to deal with these guys. I hope we can work out a compromise. At least so that weeknites are relatively quiet. I hardly expect them to give up their business.

We had our first ‘visitors’ today. Their names were Bernadette and Michelle. They are a couple of young girls that have ‘taken’ to Debbie. They asked if they could come over and we said yes. (It’s nice to have some control). They gave use some help with the garden but mostly just hung around an read magazines. It was quite nice and they were well behaved. Hope they don’t bring a bunch of their friends. Two is enough…

Yes the garden has begun. Actually it will be quite a lengthy project. The soil is quite rocky and it will need much cultivation before it is ready to receive seeds. We have a package waiting for us at the P.O. Presumably from Debs mom. Supposed to be seeds. Looks like we’re going to get some local interest going in it. Great! We could use the help and always need a secondary project.

The weather seems to be improving. WE had rain every day since x-mas eve. Sometimes all day. Soon though, it will be so dry that we’ll wish it were raining again. It’ll be interesting to see the seasons change here. I don’t look forward to increasing temperatures. The temps have been a near perfect 80º. Love it.

Jan 6 (Epiphany!)

Never mentioned Christmas in terms of Christ (like the unthinking, pagan sinner I am). Now on Epiphany I do remember the miracle of his birth. Moreover, I remember the miracle of His re-birth within me and my re-birth in Him each day. I have been despairing as of late. The last two days have been bummers for me. It may be (and most likely be) due to my starting work. The anxiety associated with that, plus the usual moderate level of stress of just living here PLUS the realization that the Ambassadors club is an every nite rather than a weekend thing, all combined to give me a bad case of the “lets get out of here” blues. The worst part is in the way it affects Deb. I get bummed then she’ll get paranoid and I’ll say how I wouldn’t “be here if it wasn’t for you” and she begins to feel (and rightly so) that I am laying a guilt trip on her. Sometime I wish she wasn’t here so I could just say “I’m going home” and not have to worry about her job or decision. But fortunately, she is a buffer for my more depressing times. Without her I would have gone home, she has stabilized my highly emotional temperament as of late. I’ve actually been quite concerned about my mental health. I have vague memories of my breakdown in 1977 and I have been feeling is similar. A helplessness and a gut level anxiety a kind of “wimpishness” that is difficult to describe. All I know is that it leads to a lot of inaction, indecision and unhappiness. I’ve been feeling trapped and yet unable to determine what I have been trapped into. It’s impossible to describe the feelings, but they have been self-defeating. Nothing specific just a lack of positivism & “fight” in the way I approach each day. A little of escapism and lack of assertiveness. Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps I make too much of it. The bottom line has been that I’ve been none too happy the past couple of days. It’s even affected Deb.

But this morning, before I started work, as I sat alone in my office, I prayed aloud to Christ to give me guidance and strength. He has answered that prayer and though I’m far from being completely at home & free from anxiety, I am a bit more at peace with myself. My strength and success in this place (or in any place) lies in the hands of Christ. I just fail to keep that in the forefront of my thoughts and fail to maintain my “phone lines” to Christ. I need to maintain my relationship with Him first and the rest should fall into place. Easy to say….so difficult to carry out in day to day living.

— 20 Items per Page
Showing 1 - 20 of 24 results.