Every Child is an Artist…

Been teaching art at the school the past month, which is making me a very happy girl. This is technically more of  a secondary project but the kids and teachers have shown more interest in me coming in to the classroom to do art with the students than any other work I have done thus far. Who would’ve thought that hands-on, creative activities are more engaging and enjoyable to students than sitting at a desk and copying from the board? (sarcasm)

I started out making googly-eyed sea creatures with 2nd graders. This admittedly was more of a busy activity while their teacher was away, so it incorporated less principles/elements and was more focused on making something fun to hang up in their classroom.

I then made puffy sea creatures with the 1st graders. This was amazingly successful and was the first time many of the children had even used crayons. I had the students color the fronts and backs and use several colors/patterns. They then had to “feed” their creations with bits of rubbish paper to fatten them up. While coloring, the students sat in groups and shared crayons, working more quietly than I have ever seen them before. Proof to the teacher that if you find a lesson that interests the students and engages them (student-centered), the outcome will be far more successful and classroom management is a breeze.

The last project I did before coming in to town was a more in-depth lesson on aboriginal art with class 3. Inspired by the art I saw around Australia and was on a few of the things I brought back with me to the village. First we went to the world map and found Australia (nobody knew where it was), and I talked about how there are “man bush” in Australia as well. I showed them the photo of me with the Aboriginal musician and the didgeridoo I brought back. We talked about how they have their own style of art, just as Vanuatu has art styles (sand drawing). After, I talked about what a line was and different types of lines. We all practiced drawing lines together: thick, thin, long, wavy, zig-zag, etc. Finally I talked about stippling, and the dot-style that is prevalent in aboriginal art.

We then made a color wheel on paper and I mixed colors for them using three primary colors with powder paint available at the school.  We practiced drawing a Peace Corps dove, a pig tusk, and a simple chicken. They then chose which one they wanted in their artwork. There were some additional criteria with their art such as being required to use 3 or more kinds of lines around the image and only allowed to use 3-4 colors when painting. Everybody went outside and found sticks to paint with and we also used brushes for larger areas and unsharpened pencils for the dots.

They were really excited about this project and the entire time kids from other classes were peeking in the windows enviously. After they finished we hung up their artwork. The teacher even did every step along with them and after the lesson she said, “Jennifer, I’ve never seen something teached like that, with so many parts and you go through all the steps.” Then she said in Bislama “ol pikini bin shek from oli no bin lenem somting olsem, ” which basically means the kids were pleasantly suprised/excited to have a lesson of this sort. It was just as rewarding for me- getting back to being an art teacher and only served as a reminder that teaching art is definitely what I want to be doing.

I can’t wait to go back to the village and do more with them, possibly some with adults as well. I’m going to try and do more incorporating health or social issues as I go. If only I had more time!

 

My Green Thumb

I’ve had various luck with gardening and seed planting over the past year. I’ve learned that while I love the magical act of putting seeds in to a plastic full of dirt and nursing them into plants, I do not love the bush-whaking/upkeep of the garden area that is required to keep good planting ground. In Maewo especially, with all of the rain it is a 24/7 job to keep every other plant from over-growing my lil’ guys.

At any rate, I had some especially good luck with some okra seeds that I picked up last time I was in town. Not really sure why I wanted to grow okra, as I don’t really have the materials to make my favorite childhood southern dish, fried okra.

People in my village (and probably most of Vanuatu, even the US) have never heard of or tried okra. It was fun showing them the photo on the seed package and trying to explain what this seedy vegetable was. They all asked if we could eat the leaves, as they are quite similar to island cabbage. As the okra began to flower and make fruit, they were so fascinated by these little green guys. The first few that were ready I simply plucked off and ate raw, suprisingly tasty (but keep in mind my standards have changed a lot and i never get crunchy green vegetables at site).

My neighbor Delma who is quite progressive in her culinary tastes and cooking methods was the first person to voice interest in tasting my okra, and wanted to know how I would prepare them. I explained to her you usually just sliced them up and could boil or fry them, but that a lot of people didn’t like the fact that they could be quite slimey in texture. She asked me (in Bislama, of course) how I used to eat okra, and I told her as best as I could how to make fried okra. This is roughly what I told her in Bislama:

You slice the ends off the okra and then slice the okra into thin pieces. You turn them and fry them in egg with flour

The next morning she showed up at my house and excitedly handed me a plate of her creation:

Okra sliced and fried with an egg, served over fried flour (like a pancake, they call it “flour”). While it was delicious, it was obvious my descriptions and the vagueness that is Bislama did not accurately get across to her what I meant by my favorite fried vegetable. I like it rolled in egg and corn meal (but occasionally flour) and deep fried or fried til a bit burnt around the edges. My grandma makes this best.

I then had a massive amount of okra growing and had to be creative to create two dishes with the limited material I had.

The first was a spicy curry with a red and yellow curry sauce paste I had bought in Vila. I mixed the curry, a can of tomatoes, okra, and squeezed fresh coconut milk in to finish it off. I only had a small bag of pasta so I ate it over that. I shared this with my papa who loved it, as he is one of the rare Ni-Vans who likes spicy foods.

The other dish I made and shared with several people in the village was a creamy curry pasta with okra and avacado.

I fried the okra in sesame oil and dried garlic. Then I mixed a creamy curry spice packet with fresh coconut milk and turned it together. FInally topping it all off with green onion from my garden and fresh avacado from my avacado tree. Very tasty. The kids in the village actually really loved this, I think it was the first time they had tried any “macaroni” shaped this way. I am usually nervous about sharing my foods, and afraid that they will not appreciate my occasionaly comfort food creations, but this plate was finished by about 8 family members. With smiling happy faces.

Potty Mouth

Here’s a “Letter to the Editor” that I wrote to send in to the Van-Am, our Peace Corps Vanuatu newspaper of sorts.

Letter to the Editors:

            First of all I would like to say that you and the new staff of the Van-Am are doing a superb job with the paper. I am tempted to extend for at least two more years, just to have the pleasure of reading future issues.

            With that said, I believe this paper would be strongly improved with the addition of a toilet-related article to every issue. In my humble opinion, toilets and all things related to the use of toilets including intestinal issues are a huge part of every volunteer experience. Think back to our first month in Vanuatu. Adapting to new diets and trying to cope with the changes that accompany said diet (constipation, explosive diarrhea) is one of the first challenges for most volunteers. I can remember my first week in Epau training village where I was already bonding with Lindsay and Jenni through conversations about the state of our poop. “Solid?”, “Nope.” “Green?”, ”Yep.” Let’s face it, Peace Corps volunteers generally aren’t bashful about bowel chat. Poop is practically the glue holding us all together.

            Imagine a section of future Van-Ams solely devoted to the topic. I know you could come up with some spiffy name for the column such as ‘Toilet Diaries” or “Sit-Sit Corner.”

            I also know from experience that there is an unspoken need for such a column. Not so long ago I was asked by my former volunteer pen pal, Heather, in all seriousness, how to use a ‘nasty-ass bush toilet.’ She was terrified of them and the prospects of using one while visiting another volunteer. After all, not all volunteers have the pleasure of squatting over a hole to poo. I was able to give her some advice (hold breath, don’t look in the hole, think happy thoughts) and couldn’t help but reminisce on my first month at site and my own first bush toilet experience.

            As my house was not yet ready, I was forced to live with my Apu woman and use her decrepit toilet straight out of the Dark Ages. Boards were rotting and missing, walls were literally caving in on me and the roof was full of holes, which allowed rain to come in on me. Various critters lived in every corner and you could be sure to find a used piece of leaf or exercise book paper left especially for me on the edge of the hole every time I went to the toilet. Aside from peeing beside the house during the night and holding my nose upon entering (and often still gagging), there was really no good advice I could offer to have a pleasurable toilet experience in a toilet such as that of my dear Apu woman.  Unfortunately, other than affecting my general mood and appetite, I pretty much went nearly my first month at site without a BM.  However, with the aid of RPCV Jarred Kebbel’s “Famous Donkey Kong” and a few spoonfuls of the tasty all-fruit laxative given by medical, I delighted in a Thanksgiving Day Poo.  Soon after, I moved in to my own house with my own toilet where my body got back on track and my bowels were happy.

            I did encounter a new set of problems with my new toilet, which my Apu woman insisted include a toilet seat/box crudely constructed out of masonite board. The seat was designed in such a way that it was impossible for a gal’s pee to go in to the hole. It instead went to the front of the seat and created a puddle in the sand in front of my toilet hole. This wet bit of sand was a perfect home for mosquitoes, whom fed on me as soon as I entered my toilet. Eventually spiders and ants also decided to make their home inside the toilet box. After a few days of having ants crawl up my ass while sitting down, I decided enough was enough and removed the box. As much as I like squatting, the box did have its benefits. I was able to see that my neighbor’s children had been using my toilet, because of the perfect outline of sandy footprints left on top of my toilet box. This is just one of several spectacularly invigorating stories I personally have to share about my toilet.

            But you still might be wondering, what could there possibly be to say about toilets and intestinal issues that would call for multiple stories in many different issues of the Van-Am? I can give you plenty of ideas for future articles:

            -How to overcome reverse culture/toilet shock. Lindsay and I have found that after prolonged bush toilet use, it becomes difficult to revert to sitting on a porcelain throne. Things just don’t come out as easily, and clean-up ain’t a breeze.

            -How to properly aim in to a hole. Bush toilets are shaped differently and some do not have a special outline of feet instructing you where to stand. Nik once left a few of us a little brown surprise on the edge of Lindsay’s hole in her exceptionally small toilet haos. But this could have been prevented with proper alignment and squatting technique. (In Nik’s defense, he would like to say that the toilet was also crooked, on a slant, and because of his great digestion his poo was solid and he did clean up after himself afterwards)

            -Bush toilet etiquette. What do you do when you miss the hole? How to delicately turn down the exercise book paper you are offered for wiping. The importance of singing-out before approaching a public bush toilet.

            -The art of Bush Toilet Maintenance. When to put ash, sand, and old Van-Am papers inside.

            -Miscellaneous tips and suggestions. Banging the wall before entering so lizards and rats will run away. Putting old Independent articles on the walls for toilet reading. Always avoid looking in to the hole, especially at night. You really don’t want to know.

            -Volunteer contributions. Those who mistook undigested bush cabbage as worms. Those lucky enough to have a little guy slither out while deworming.

            -Reviews on volunteer toilets. I rank Nic T’s pristinely white, flush toilet on West Maewo number 1.

            -Confessionals: What do you throw in your toilet? Or strange things you have found. Headlamps, banana lap-lap, your neighbor’s puppy dog.

            -You could pair toilet stories with food and health articles. How to achieve that perfect BM. Yoga poses to reduce flatulence. Binging and Purging-Aelan Style.  Exercises that help loosen hips to avoid future joint and muscle issues from prolonged squatting.

As you can see, the possibilities are endless. Please take my idea into consideration as I think the paper and all of your readers would greatly benefit from the addition of such toilet talk.

Sincerely and faithfully yours,

Jennifer R. Blount

Recipe for Jarred Kebbel’s “Famous Donkey Kong”:

Wheat Bix, Lots, crushed

Peanut butter, Mounds, on top

Powdered milk, Lots

Nesquic or Milo, heaps

Optional: Nutella, Cookies.

Add boiling water on top. Stir until the consistency of thick oatmeal. It’ll look unappetizing but tastes delicious (especially if you haven’t eaten ‘white man food’ in weeks).

Wait 20-40 minutes.

Poop.

Sometimes I Read…

Updated Reading List. *Denotes recommended reads, ** Authors I want to read more of

Februaury:

Book #101: The Solitude of Prime Numbers- Paolo Giordano*
ROOM- Emma Donoghue*
Banana- Dan Koeppel*
The Last Templar- Raymond Khoury
The Rum Diary- Hunter S. Thompson**
Girl’s Guide to Hunting and Fishing- Melissa Bank*
Mr. Pip- Lloyd Jones*

March:

War and Peace- Leo Tolstoy**
Dark Tower Book 1, Gunslinger (reread)- Stephen King*
Dark Tower Book 2, The Drawing of Three- Stephen King*
Dark Tower Book 3, The Waste Lands- Stephen King *
(I do not have book 4, 5, or 6, but book 7 is at Nic’s house. Ha!)
The Rules of Attraction- Bret Easton Ellis*

April:

The Corrections- Jonathan Franzen**
Empress of the Splendid Season- Oscar Hijuelos*
The Alloy of Law- Brandon Sanderson*
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance- Robert M. Pirsig*
The Apprentice- Jacques Pépin

May:

The Shell Collector- Anthony Doerr
The History of Love- Nicole Krauss*
The Sun Also Rises- Ernest Hemingway* (would’ve been nice to have wine while reading this one)
Warbreaker- Brandon Sanderson
Sense and Sensibility- Jane Austen*
A Place Called Freedom- Ken Follett
Mother Night- Kurt Vonnegut Jr.*

The fast-paced “city” life and past three days of training have gotten the best of me once again. I find myself on my last full day in Port Vila, with less than three hours of internet remaining and a long list of “To-Do’s” that have yet to be done.

I did manage to buy my papa a new diving wire (spear) for his spear gun, meaning plenty meals of fish to come. Not sure how I’m getting it safely on the plane but I’ll figure it out.

I guess my last post for a while will be an update of what work I’ve been doing at site lately, and what I intend to do over the next 8 months.

Before Australia I taught the Anglican Mother’s Union how to make stencils out of plastic folders and paint their uniforms. While in Vila I bought more supplies and blue material so that the remaining members can finish creating and painting their uniforms.

I created 20 Gender and Development drawings for Nik and other volunteers to use in future PACA (participertory assessment and community analysis) workshops focusing primarily on teachers and schools.

In Vila this past week I met with a woman who asked me to do some drawings for Save the Children’s Child Protection Team. They are working on developing tools to be used in child abuse workshops and education related to child abuse. While it’s going to be difficult getting the drawings to her from my village, I am excited to be a part of something a bit larger in scope than just my village; something that could be potentially used globally.

School will be starting shortly when I get back and I will review many workshops with all of the teachers such as Phonics, lesson planning, and classroom management. I am going to assess students from each grade weekly and keep track of the progression of reading levels for students in each class.

In May Nik and I will hold our Kamp G.L.O.W and B.I.L.D which will require a lot of purchases of supplies and preperation of all sessions, including training of a few local facilitators. Thanks again for your donations, Dad and Pam! Here’s a blog entry about the Kamp we held on Maewo last year written by my pal Lindsay.

I wont be back in Port Vila in June or July for a medical follow up, at which time I am going to try and get scuba certified!

I’m really excited to return to the village life. While Australia was a lot of fun, it was a bit exhausting and disheartening to return to a community of people who care more about how they look and where they are going in an hour than what is happening in the world and about simple relationships with others. I can’t wait to go back to my two sisters and three brothers, and the 100+ kids in my village.

It’ll be exciting to see how many chickens are still alive, how overgrown my yard has become, what creatures have moved in to my house, and not have to worry about whether I match or my shoes are broken.

Until next time. Love and Lap Lap!

Jennifer Roxane

Barbra Streisand.

 

Despite appearances, we did more than just drink adult beverages on our vacation. But it seems I had the most photos of our pretty, smiling faces on days where we actually did strange things like showering, putting on faces, and styling our hair.

Set to one of the house music songs we heard several times while in OZ.

Got eyes for Bondi.

It all started in Vanuatu.

There was this Kiwi named Blair who was traveling in Vanuatu and soon to start a job in Sydney. Being excited by this interesting hotel stranger, Melissa, heather and I took it upon ourselves to share our wealth of Kava and Vila knowledge with this poor guy. We drug him along to a local futbol game and earned the title “Champion People” by helping Blair package his bow and arrow from Tanna (which is now hanging on his Sydney wall).

Enter Jennifer, cleared to come to Sydney but now without a place to stay because we had cancelled my hostel reservations last minute when the ole health fun arose. Blair invited me in to his little abode in North Bondi, where I stayed for around a week until joining Melissa and Mac in their second hostel.

Blair lives in a houseful of lovely folk who were nice enough to share their quirky place with me.

Zander, the American out of Vermont/New York, surfer, swimming buddy

Eden, works at the wine shop, gentle hunter of deer, serious about skin care

Camille, the beautiful 2nd grade teacher, lived in the Bush, responsible for a very happy bellyful of roast chicken and potatoes

Ripper the purple pant owner, walk of shame mate, makes me feel like I’m talking to Mike Skinner of The Streets

Blair the Kiwi, musician, scholar, linguist

Thank you. Tank yu Tumas. Thanks a million for letting me stay with you.

At the O’Donnell house BBQ, I had the opportunity to meet several other fancy folk. Chris, a hydro and solar man who frequents Vanuatu served as our lovely Bondi/Oxford Street Tour guide for a night of truly good times. I don’t think you can go wrong with people who hold weekly moonlight cinemas at their house and have a trapeze in their yard.

It’s especially nice to experience a large city from a local perspective, and be reminded that I can in fact function and socialize around people like me. Thanks to Blair and the Bondi days I was able to:

go to a backyard BBQ complete with rabbit, venison, kangaroo, and other snausages.

be a victim of a flying chunk of watermelon and fail miserably at a watermelon eating contest.

swim and bake in a sauna on a rainy day at Iceberg Pool, which overlooks Bondi Beach.

drink a bloody mary and nice wine at a wine bar/cafe amongst locals. (dark haired Israeli man (Alon) with adorable girlfriend, I will wait for you:)

eat rhubarb for first time.

see 10 minutes of a moonlight cinema (interrupted by bad news).

use high speed internet! weeeee!

drink Moroccanish style Tanna coffee.

have a night completely planned by somebody else and dance the magic dance in to the morning.

having conversations about my life right now with people who actually understand something of what it’s like to be living on an island.

I’m glad to have shared time with these interesting Bondi folk, who are beautiful from toe to nose.