Surviving our first 4 blackouts means ...
CELEBRATIONS AT THE UMANA YANA



This afternoon, we took a second sardine-packed (15-20 people, vw bus sized), reggae/hip-hop-blaring bus circuit to Mercy Wings Vocational Centre (the last of the ministries that we have to figure out how to get to). Still getting used to men hissing at me on the streets. Today a clever one said something like, “Aah, Snow White, looking lovely today,” in that tone of voice that made me unsure whether it was a complement or an insult. Not that I’ve ever bothered to categorize them.
We topped off the bus rides with a visit to the Umana Yana (traditional central meeting house for Amerindian peoples) to look at an exhibit kicking off September as officially “Amerindian Heritage month”. It was amazing, there on the outskirts of the city, by the sea wall, was this colossal structure made entirely of forest materials (undoubtedly brought in from the interior). It had to be three stories tall, a modified sort of cone shape with a round base and a more rectangular shape at the very top where it flattened in stead of tapered to a point, and it probably would have taken me a good fifteen to twenty seconds to walk from one side of the arena inside to the other. Amerindian crafts from the local villages were displayed at tables, there was food, a fermented black potato liquor (which we had to sample – kind of like beer and wine together), many intricately woven baskets with several colors, statues, paintings, carvings, hammocks, sandals, necklaces and earrings, and much more. Since I’m living on about $60 a month and it feels like I have no money right now, I decided not to buy anything today.
During my time there I spoke with Modesta, a wonderful Arawak woman who knows a lot about Maruca and lives in Georgetown, “for now”, she tells me. I asked her what she thought the three most important things were for Americans to know about Amerindian life and culture. We talked about many things, but I’ll mention a few that stick out in my mind. First, Modesta is 55, has just retired from decades of teaching primary school in the interior, and has come to Georgetown seeking work and options because she feels like “there’s so much more I can do”. So she’s a member of an organization named something like the Amerindian Affairs Commission (or maybe it was Council?), and has been helping to train and hold accountable regional representatives who communicate with the people, the Council, and the Ministry of Homeland Affairs. As if that’s not enough, she wants to host a boy in Georgetown on a scholarship and also wants to go back to the interior to serve in a battered women’s shelter there. Meanwhile, she’s looking for a house with a third room, which is proving very difficult to do within her personal budget. My prayers are with her, and if you’re a prayerful person, please keep her in yours, too.
She also confirmed things that I have read again and again in texts about the adaptation and evolution of culture that leads to new indigenous realities: so many young people are leaving the communities to find work and not returning to start their own families there; few even send money to their families in the interior; young girls, especially, are recruited to “work” in Georgetown, a businessman sells the parents on the idea and disappears with them, leaving the parents with no way to communicate, complain, or find their daughters; AIDS and HIV rates are growing; drug use and trafficking(sp?) are growing; native languages based in oral cultures are not being written down and preserved, much less used actively, and are fading. Amid all of this, however, is a fight for dignity which leads them to actively petition the government frequently for necessities like bridges, electricity and clean water. There are also these celebrations, like the week-long display in the yumana yana, that celebrate what is left, what has come before, and how the changing and adapting is happening right before our eyes.
Did I mention she also tipped me off to the skipper of a ferry that takes passengers down the rivers to the interior? His nickname is “Peanut” – I can’t wait to get over there and ask for him ;o). She gave me her name, address, phone number and phone numbers of Peanut and another friend, as have several Guyanese before her – they are really an amazingly hospitable people. So there’s a lazy Sunday afternoon for you. We move into our flat tomorrow, and I’ll probably start work mid-week this week. Heads up: forthcoming blog entries will probably be a little less frequent until computer situation is all figured out.

With two-dozen mosquito bites despite the nets and bugspray,
Kate