The Saints came marching in!
We finally held our Saints and Angels costume contest at the R.C. school fair!
posted by Alison G. @ 7:56 PM
0 comments
Friday, November 18, 2005
Here's three of the Mary's that attended. There were many
more though!
posted by Alison G. @ 7:38 PM
0 comments
sarcasm and inculturation
Inculturation means so many things. Remembering to throw your toilet paper into a trash can instead of flushing it down the toilet where it will threaten the entire central American septic system… Getting used to geckos crawling around your walls and appreciating the fact that they eat the mosquitoes… Learning to love rice and beans for every other meal… All of these things I’m totally adapted to. However, there is one aspect of Belizean culture that I just can’t seem to get used to. Belizean people are, for the most part, totally unable to “get” sarcastic humor. I remember sitting at the Mt. Carmel orientation last year while they explained all of the little things we needed to be aware of as we attempted to communicate with our students. For example, when Belizeans say “Right now” it means, “in a minute”. Every teacher has the following conversation with their student in the first week of school. For example, say you’re giving a test and you tell your students to hand it in.
“Right now, miss”. They say.
“Yes, Right now.” You reply.
Their heads are still bent down, scribbling answers.
“Right now, hand it in” you command in your best “I’m-fresh-out-of-college-but-trying-to-be-a-scary-strict-teacher voice”. The kids look up at you and say again,
“Miss, right now I will hand it in”.
Then you remember what they told you about the phrase. After a year in Belize, I honestly can’t use the phrase “right now” correctly anymore— I get mixed up in both the U.S. and Belize, always confusing the meaning.
Anyways, while Fr. Mark was explaining these linguistical challenges that sometimes makes you realize that although English words are being used, you’re just not speaking the same language! After this explanation, he added almost as an afterthought, “and they just don’t get sarcasm here, so be careful using it with your students”. This rocked my world. No sarcasm? I had briefly considered N.E.T. ministries and quickly decided that it wasn’t for me because you commit to no sarcasm with your teammates for a whole year and it’s not like my life is one long SNL sketch, but I wasn’t sure I would be able to communicate with people if sarcasm wasn’t an option. However, now I see that it was part of God’s plan for me that I find other means of getting my point across because I’m spending my second year in a country full of people who all to often completely misunderstand what I’m saying. But please, allow me to illustrate what I’m talking about.
Every Tuesday evening we have a meeting with the Lay Ministers of San Pedro Roman Catholic Church. Now, I’ve talked about this truly extraordinary group of San Pedranos who take such good care of their church and the four girls who are volunteering with them for the year. However, they are Belizean and therefore of the four of us, I’m always the one who ends up saying something inappropriate by accident. I think I already described my first foux pas of the evening: we were all saying evening prayer and Ali made some sort of mistake at which point I said, “oh, sorry folks, she’s not really Catholic”. As soon as the words escaped Ali shot me a Look, because all of the lay ministers were staring at her with the look of, “Imposter!” on their faces. They totally thought I was serious and that they had been duped into bringing a non-Catholic missionary to their town. Whoops. Finally, one of the lay ministers, Claudio, let’s out an awkward, “ha… ha…ha…” and I’m saved. Sort of.
Do I learn my lesson though? Well, I try to filter things but sometimes they just come out. A couple weeks later we’re at another meeting discussing the problem that has arisen as a result of a priest being gone from San Pedro for too long and we, consequentially, have run out of the Holy Eucharist. There’s only a handful of hosts left in the tabernacle, not enough for another Sunday. Now, there are two ways to get to San Pedro: water taxi and plane. People frequently use the two airlines, Tropic and Maya, to ship important cargo to the island. The lay ministers were saying that at some point, someone would have to fly to Belize City and pick up more consecrated hosts. I said, “yeah, or else we can just have them put the consecrated hosts in a box marked, ‘Jesus’ and send it on Maya Air”. All of the lay ministers turned and stared at me. Claudio finally says quietly, “no, Alison, we can’t do that”. Now, it’s bad enough that I was taken seriously there. The story gets worse—Dinorah was telling this story to some teachers in Benque and laughing about how my joke flopped, and one of the teachers there thought I was serious too!
Don’t worry, the Lay Minister’s meetings aren’t just about scandalizing the locals, we’ve been teaching them a few things too. The best skill they’ve learned from us is totally the “not it” game. Last year, all important decisions made by Mt. Carmel High School teachers were decided by the “not it” game. This is how you play. Anytime something is suggested that you don’t want to do, you simply touch your nose as fast as you can. The last person to touch their nose is “it”. For example, if there was a class that needed a substitute teacher, the secretary would walk into the teacher’s lounge where we were all hard at work lesson planning, grading and eating biscuits. Lillian would say, “who can teach…” and before she even finished her sentence we’d all have our fingers on our noses. So, at one Lay Minister’s meeting they were asking who wanted to lead Evening Prayer. Us four girls had our fingers on our noses in a flash and the lay ministers were slightly confused by this. We explained this decision-making process to them and they all played too. Imagine, four gringas and a handful of middle-aged Belizean adults all trying to touch our noses the fastest. All of us, that is, except Abel my favorite fisherman who was sitting there asking, “why are you all touching your noses? I don’t understand”. Such fun.
I have a special prayer intention for you prayer-warriors. One of my students from last year has decided to enter R.C.I.A. in Benque. I know that the pressure on her will be huge, so please keep her in your prayers! Anne, the campus minister in Benque, has something like 25 students in her R.C.I.A. program, so pray for them all!
“Right now, miss”. They say.
“Yes, Right now.” You reply.
Their heads are still bent down, scribbling answers.
“Right now, hand it in” you command in your best “I’m-fresh-out-of-college-but-trying-to-be-a-scary-strict-teacher voice”. The kids look up at you and say again,
“Miss, right now I will hand it in”.
Then you remember what they told you about the phrase. After a year in Belize, I honestly can’t use the phrase “right now” correctly anymore— I get mixed up in both the U.S. and Belize, always confusing the meaning.
Anyways, while Fr. Mark was explaining these linguistical challenges that sometimes makes you realize that although English words are being used, you’re just not speaking the same language! After this explanation, he added almost as an afterthought, “and they just don’t get sarcasm here, so be careful using it with your students”. This rocked my world. No sarcasm? I had briefly considered N.E.T. ministries and quickly decided that it wasn’t for me because you commit to no sarcasm with your teammates for a whole year and it’s not like my life is one long SNL sketch, but I wasn’t sure I would be able to communicate with people if sarcasm wasn’t an option. However, now I see that it was part of God’s plan for me that I find other means of getting my point across because I’m spending my second year in a country full of people who all to often completely misunderstand what I’m saying. But please, allow me to illustrate what I’m talking about.
Every Tuesday evening we have a meeting with the Lay Ministers of San Pedro Roman Catholic Church. Now, I’ve talked about this truly extraordinary group of San Pedranos who take such good care of their church and the four girls who are volunteering with them for the year. However, they are Belizean and therefore of the four of us, I’m always the one who ends up saying something inappropriate by accident. I think I already described my first foux pas of the evening: we were all saying evening prayer and Ali made some sort of mistake at which point I said, “oh, sorry folks, she’s not really Catholic”. As soon as the words escaped Ali shot me a Look, because all of the lay ministers were staring at her with the look of, “Imposter!” on their faces. They totally thought I was serious and that they had been duped into bringing a non-Catholic missionary to their town. Whoops. Finally, one of the lay ministers, Claudio, let’s out an awkward, “ha… ha…ha…” and I’m saved. Sort of.
Do I learn my lesson though? Well, I try to filter things but sometimes they just come out. A couple weeks later we’re at another meeting discussing the problem that has arisen as a result of a priest being gone from San Pedro for too long and we, consequentially, have run out of the Holy Eucharist. There’s only a handful of hosts left in the tabernacle, not enough for another Sunday. Now, there are two ways to get to San Pedro: water taxi and plane. People frequently use the two airlines, Tropic and Maya, to ship important cargo to the island. The lay ministers were saying that at some point, someone would have to fly to Belize City and pick up more consecrated hosts. I said, “yeah, or else we can just have them put the consecrated hosts in a box marked, ‘Jesus’ and send it on Maya Air”. All of the lay ministers turned and stared at me. Claudio finally says quietly, “no, Alison, we can’t do that”. Now, it’s bad enough that I was taken seriously there. The story gets worse—Dinorah was telling this story to some teachers in Benque and laughing about how my joke flopped, and one of the teachers there thought I was serious too!
Don’t worry, the Lay Minister’s meetings aren’t just about scandalizing the locals, we’ve been teaching them a few things too. The best skill they’ve learned from us is totally the “not it” game. Last year, all important decisions made by Mt. Carmel High School teachers were decided by the “not it” game. This is how you play. Anytime something is suggested that you don’t want to do, you simply touch your nose as fast as you can. The last person to touch their nose is “it”. For example, if there was a class that needed a substitute teacher, the secretary would walk into the teacher’s lounge where we were all hard at work lesson planning, grading and eating biscuits. Lillian would say, “who can teach…” and before she even finished her sentence we’d all have our fingers on our noses. So, at one Lay Minister’s meeting they were asking who wanted to lead Evening Prayer. Us four girls had our fingers on our noses in a flash and the lay ministers were slightly confused by this. We explained this decision-making process to them and they all played too. Imagine, four gringas and a handful of middle-aged Belizean adults all trying to touch our noses the fastest. All of us, that is, except Abel my favorite fisherman who was sitting there asking, “why are you all touching your noses? I don’t understand”. Such fun.
I have a special prayer intention for you prayer-warriors. One of my students from last year has decided to enter R.C.I.A. in Benque. I know that the pressure on her will be huge, so please keep her in your prayers! Anne, the campus minister in Benque, has something like 25 students in her R.C.I.A. program, so pray for them all!
posted by Alison G. @ 7:27 PM
3 comments
Friday, November 11, 2005
primary school, copiers and the need for VOCATIONS!
At the risk of this blog becoming a chronicle of my most embarrassing moments, I need to share another story from my life as a walking disaster. So, we have a nifty little photocopier machine in the parish hall, a.k.a. the classroom under the rectory. This afternoon Ann and I were sitting watching a movie lent to us by our local Jehovah’s witnesses (a long story. We gave them a glass of water when they stopped by our house and then they came back with a video entitled “how to make good friends”. They want to come back and talk to us about it…) and Courtney came in to make some photocopies. When they weren’t copying well, I suggested she shake the cartridge. This was a trick that I learned at Mt. Carmel when the copy machine was down to it’s last ounce of toner and you had it on the darkest setting, we found that you could usually get at least one more copy if you took the cartridge out and gave it a good shake. Courtney asked how to do that so I, being the know-it-all that I think I am came over and confidently pulled the cartridge out. “see, you just shake it like--” and I stopped and watched in horror as what seemed like the entire contents of the cartridge erupted into a cloud of black dust all over the inside of the copy machine, the table it is on, the floor, and me. Incredible. One smooth move from me and Ann and I had about an hour of cleaning on our hands. In the midst of us cleaning, Fr. Paul walks in and surveys the room. I realized I had some explaining to do: “Good news Fr. Paul. The copy toner is fine! It looks like there’s plenty in the cartridge… and all over the table and the floor….” He said, “well, as I always say, there’s no use crying over spilled copy toner. Thanks for cleaning that up”. Phew. Much like some of my favorite west-side teachers in Benque whose students put them in difficult situations (“Miss, no criticize. Just legalize.”) I also live in fear that I will be the first volunteer “fired” from the SOLT missions. However, after all that wouldn’t you know the copy machine works like a charm?
We San Pedro missionaries continue to be spoiled out here. The latest blessing is that an internet café opened up almost next door to our house. Not just any internet café though. Oh no, this is the cheapest one on the island that is trying to promote a family-friendly atmosphere. This is a blessing since we’ve had a hard time finding decent places to check e-mail that we can afford. There are some generous parishioners who let us use their personal computers, there are a few very sketchy bars that give us a local rate ($2.50 US an hour). We were disappointed when we found out that one of the places we thought was decent shares a wall with a very… sketchy establishment. But Praise the Lord, a nice little place which doesn’t even have a bar opened next door AND they’re selling the internet for a mere $2.00 U.S. an hour. God is good. Pray that they stay open!
So, what else is new on this rock? Our All Saints Day carnival was postponed again, the principal of the primary school, Miss Kay, has stated that it will occur this Saturday no matter what! They’re trying to fundraise for new classrooms. I have to tell you about this primary school and how impressed Ann and I have been with them. This school is SO full. There are something like 70 kids on the island who aren’t in school because they just can’t fit them in the classrooms. Each classroom has somewhere between 35 and 40 kids in it, there are almost 900 students in all. So you can imagine the workload these teachers have! Then, their “administration” consists of the principal and two vice principals. No secretaries, no office managers, janitor or lunch lady. The principals do all the record keeping, substitute teaching, letters home, etc, etc, etc. While we were in Miss Kay’s office she was answering the phone, filing for attendence and selling water bags to the kids because her two vice principals were out for a funeral and substituting. She sat in the eye of the hurricane that is the R.C. Primary school, she knew the name of every child who walked in her door and stopped to listen to each one of them. Marcos, a little infant student who was probably about 5 years old and could barely see over the desk came in for water. “Ooh, look at the beautiful map!” he exclaimed, pointing to the map of Belize on the wall. “Miss, Miss,” he said urgently to Miss Kay. “Yes Marcos?”. “Miss, on Sunday, I go to Corazol” he exclaimed, reaching up to point to the district on the map. “Miss, I went with my family, and I rode a bus, and I got so sick that I vomited all over and then I came back yesterday”. Miss Kay gave him her undivided attention… She explained that he came in once while she was on the computer, and she let him type his name and print it out and he hasn’t quite gotten over it. He still comes back to visit and look at the amazing computer that printed his name.
Telling Marco’s story about vomiting on the bus has a purpose-- What I love about teaching the little primary schoolers is their total inability to sense what is appropriate at what time. Little Marcos didn’t hesitate to tell the principal about his bout of motion sickness. Similarly, when I was in an infant 1 (think pre-school) class talking about prayer I was trying to keep it simple, asking what I thought would be the easiest question for them to answer.
“Who can tell me who made them?” I ask. Hands shoot up in the air and little bodies topple over their desks, concerned that I won’t see them. Simultaneously, I hear “Miss, Miss, Miss, Miss, Miss”. The sound can only be compared to about twenty tires deflating, or maybe a den of snakes. I point to one them and gesture for them to speak.
“Miss, I know where you live.”
“Ok. That’s nice. But who made…”
“Miss, I see you ride your bike, with the other girl. You live near me!”
“Wow. We’re neighbors. So is Jesus. Who made you?”. I point to another eager beaver who’s straining with their hand in the air. When given permission to speak, she’s too excited. She sits, smiling in ecstasy after being singled out in her classroom of thirty seven (with three home sick) and finally speaks her piece:
“Miss. I… I have a dog.” She sits back, grinning.
“Great. And God made your dog. Now who made you?” On second thought, “We all know that GOD made you!” They all smile and nod their little heads in agreement. Thirty seven little faces staring at me… boys with their hair all tousled and sticking up in strange spots because the slick gel they combed in several hours ago has long since melted away with the perspiration that accumulates walking to school in the hot sun next to the water. Girls with corn rows held in place by dozens of barrettes that click together as they move around. Little kids who prattle on and on in Spanish and little Creoles who will give you a wide smile and say, “miss, you done teach da class fo we right now?”
Teaching primary school students is so different from high school! I miss my high school students, the unpredictability, the moodswings, the drama… the chance to have somewhat intellectual discussions and explanations in class. However, being around the younger children is reminding me how to have faith like a child. Father Mark from Benque came to San Pedro this weekend to say our masses (Praise the Lord, because we’d been without a priest for the past three weeks here. Keep an extra priest for San Pedro in your prayers!) and I told him I was looking forward to hearing his homily for the kids… I had always really enjoyed them in Benque because the Spanish was usually simple enough for me to understand and he gets the kids to say the cutest things. He said, “yeah, I find that doctrine is important with the primary school kids, but so is just appreciating their wonder and awe for all things spiritual”. “Wonder and Awe” is the best way to describe the way these kids react to things. When we tell them that God made them, loves them and wants them to be in heaven, they don’t doubt it. Us “grown-ups” have grown so cynical—and I count myself in this category. I know my faith, and I know how incredible God’s plan for my salvation in His church is. I know that when I receive the host at mass it’s Jesus, present to me because he loves me. However, I’m amazed at how quickly this can grow routine for me. However, this week, when I was teaching the little Standard Three students about the Eucharist, every eye was on me and their mouths were open in wonder, total trust and absolute belief. I think I leave the classroom feeling like I’ve learned more than anything I may have been able to teach them!
So, as I mentioned, we’ve been without a priest for several weeks now-- Fr. Mark’s arrival on Saturday evening ended a three-week stretch without Sunday masses, or masses any other day for that matter. I always wondered what it would be like to live somewhere so remote that it would be virtually impossible to have Mass every week. Now that I’ve experienced it, I can say that it’s incredibly difficult to not be sure when I’ll be able to participate in mass again. However, it’s definitely deepened my faith and appreciation for the celebration of Mass and the priesthood! Deepened may be too trivial a word, actually. When the parishioners of San Pedro Catholic Church pray for vocations, they pray. They’re praying that they’ll have a priest around for the next Sunday. They’re praying that next time they need to get to confession so that they can receive communion, a priest will be around. They’re praying that when their children want to get married by a priest, they can. They’re praying that their town can have a full-time pastor, something that has yet to exist on the island. Living in the midst of so many luxuries-- hot water, ATM’s, internet cafes, cable television—it just never occurs to me that this is still a developing country. Then I look at the map and know that San Pedro is not the only town in Belize that doesn’t always have mass on Sundays—there are just not enough priests to be everywhere—and I realize how great the need for laborers in the Lord’s vineyard is! So, let me climb down from my missionary soapbox and ask you to just pray for us—for the Primary school students, for all those on the island, for our priests in Belize and for an increase in vocations!
We San Pedro missionaries continue to be spoiled out here. The latest blessing is that an internet café opened up almost next door to our house. Not just any internet café though. Oh no, this is the cheapest one on the island that is trying to promote a family-friendly atmosphere. This is a blessing since we’ve had a hard time finding decent places to check e-mail that we can afford. There are some generous parishioners who let us use their personal computers, there are a few very sketchy bars that give us a local rate ($2.50 US an hour). We were disappointed when we found out that one of the places we thought was decent shares a wall with a very… sketchy establishment. But Praise the Lord, a nice little place which doesn’t even have a bar opened next door AND they’re selling the internet for a mere $2.00 U.S. an hour. God is good. Pray that they stay open!
So, what else is new on this rock? Our All Saints Day carnival was postponed again, the principal of the primary school, Miss Kay, has stated that it will occur this Saturday no matter what! They’re trying to fundraise for new classrooms. I have to tell you about this primary school and how impressed Ann and I have been with them. This school is SO full. There are something like 70 kids on the island who aren’t in school because they just can’t fit them in the classrooms. Each classroom has somewhere between 35 and 40 kids in it, there are almost 900 students in all. So you can imagine the workload these teachers have! Then, their “administration” consists of the principal and two vice principals. No secretaries, no office managers, janitor or lunch lady. The principals do all the record keeping, substitute teaching, letters home, etc, etc, etc. While we were in Miss Kay’s office she was answering the phone, filing for attendence and selling water bags to the kids because her two vice principals were out for a funeral and substituting. She sat in the eye of the hurricane that is the R.C. Primary school, she knew the name of every child who walked in her door and stopped to listen to each one of them. Marcos, a little infant student who was probably about 5 years old and could barely see over the desk came in for water. “Ooh, look at the beautiful map!” he exclaimed, pointing to the map of Belize on the wall. “Miss, Miss,” he said urgently to Miss Kay. “Yes Marcos?”. “Miss, on Sunday, I go to Corazol” he exclaimed, reaching up to point to the district on the map. “Miss, I went with my family, and I rode a bus, and I got so sick that I vomited all over and then I came back yesterday”. Miss Kay gave him her undivided attention… She explained that he came in once while she was on the computer, and she let him type his name and print it out and he hasn’t quite gotten over it. He still comes back to visit and look at the amazing computer that printed his name.
Telling Marco’s story about vomiting on the bus has a purpose-- What I love about teaching the little primary schoolers is their total inability to sense what is appropriate at what time. Little Marcos didn’t hesitate to tell the principal about his bout of motion sickness. Similarly, when I was in an infant 1 (think pre-school) class talking about prayer I was trying to keep it simple, asking what I thought would be the easiest question for them to answer.
“Who can tell me who made them?” I ask. Hands shoot up in the air and little bodies topple over their desks, concerned that I won’t see them. Simultaneously, I hear “Miss, Miss, Miss, Miss, Miss”. The sound can only be compared to about twenty tires deflating, or maybe a den of snakes. I point to one them and gesture for them to speak.
“Miss, I know where you live.”
“Ok. That’s nice. But who made…”
“Miss, I see you ride your bike, with the other girl. You live near me!”
“Wow. We’re neighbors. So is Jesus. Who made you?”. I point to another eager beaver who’s straining with their hand in the air. When given permission to speak, she’s too excited. She sits, smiling in ecstasy after being singled out in her classroom of thirty seven (with three home sick) and finally speaks her piece:
“Miss. I… I have a dog.” She sits back, grinning.
“Great. And God made your dog. Now who made you?” On second thought, “We all know that GOD made you!” They all smile and nod their little heads in agreement. Thirty seven little faces staring at me… boys with their hair all tousled and sticking up in strange spots because the slick gel they combed in several hours ago has long since melted away with the perspiration that accumulates walking to school in the hot sun next to the water. Girls with corn rows held in place by dozens of barrettes that click together as they move around. Little kids who prattle on and on in Spanish and little Creoles who will give you a wide smile and say, “miss, you done teach da class fo we right now?”
Teaching primary school students is so different from high school! I miss my high school students, the unpredictability, the moodswings, the drama… the chance to have somewhat intellectual discussions and explanations in class. However, being around the younger children is reminding me how to have faith like a child. Father Mark from Benque came to San Pedro this weekend to say our masses (Praise the Lord, because we’d been without a priest for the past three weeks here. Keep an extra priest for San Pedro in your prayers!) and I told him I was looking forward to hearing his homily for the kids… I had always really enjoyed them in Benque because the Spanish was usually simple enough for me to understand and he gets the kids to say the cutest things. He said, “yeah, I find that doctrine is important with the primary school kids, but so is just appreciating their wonder and awe for all things spiritual”. “Wonder and Awe” is the best way to describe the way these kids react to things. When we tell them that God made them, loves them and wants them to be in heaven, they don’t doubt it. Us “grown-ups” have grown so cynical—and I count myself in this category. I know my faith, and I know how incredible God’s plan for my salvation in His church is. I know that when I receive the host at mass it’s Jesus, present to me because he loves me. However, I’m amazed at how quickly this can grow routine for me. However, this week, when I was teaching the little Standard Three students about the Eucharist, every eye was on me and their mouths were open in wonder, total trust and absolute belief. I think I leave the classroom feeling like I’ve learned more than anything I may have been able to teach them!
So, as I mentioned, we’ve been without a priest for several weeks now-- Fr. Mark’s arrival on Saturday evening ended a three-week stretch without Sunday masses, or masses any other day for that matter. I always wondered what it would be like to live somewhere so remote that it would be virtually impossible to have Mass every week. Now that I’ve experienced it, I can say that it’s incredibly difficult to not be sure when I’ll be able to participate in mass again. However, it’s definitely deepened my faith and appreciation for the celebration of Mass and the priesthood! Deepened may be too trivial a word, actually. When the parishioners of San Pedro Catholic Church pray for vocations, they pray. They’re praying that they’ll have a priest around for the next Sunday. They’re praying that next time they need to get to confession so that they can receive communion, a priest will be around. They’re praying that when their children want to get married by a priest, they can. They’re praying that their town can have a full-time pastor, something that has yet to exist on the island. Living in the midst of so many luxuries-- hot water, ATM’s, internet cafes, cable television—it just never occurs to me that this is still a developing country. Then I look at the map and know that San Pedro is not the only town in Belize that doesn’t always have mass on Sundays—there are just not enough priests to be everywhere—and I realize how great the need for laborers in the Lord’s vineyard is! So, let me climb down from my missionary soapbox and ask you to just pray for us—for the Primary school students, for all those on the island, for our priests in Belize and for an increase in vocations!
posted by Alison G. @ 5:28 PM
0 comments
