Where’s the Afikomen?

While many of you were enjoying beef brisket and matzo balls this Passover, I was at the Hebrew Cultural Center in Georgetown celebrating the “Feast of Unleavened Bread.” What made this night different than all the other nights, I’ve celebrated Passover? Well, a lot.

I was told to arrive by 6 p.m. I was already in town for a training at the Peace Corps office that ended just a little after 5, so I had to book it to catch a bus to the Center; I ended up arriving just a few minutes after 6. However, unlike the past few times I’ve gone on Saturday’s it was quiet (no sound of drums from a block away) and only a few people were there. Strange, I thought, since I’ve been told that Passover is supposed to be a big deal. The sun was just about to set, how odd that I was one of the few people there.

After hanging around for a little, the Kohen (what they call their Rabbi), asked if I wanted to come and watch the ceremonial slaughter of the lamb. Well of course! So I went out back where there was not one, but seven lambs tied up, a trench dug, a large pit, and a wooden beam suspended. The lambs were then herded to the other side of the building so they wouldn’t see what was to happen. Then the first lamb was taken and blessed by the Kohen, then held down over the trench and slaughtered by a male congregant. After most of the blood had been drained from the neck into the trench it was hung up on the suspended wooden beam and the process was repeated six more times. While the other lambs were blessed and slaughtered, other congregants worked to help fill the giant pit with charcoal and skin the hanging lambs. Once all the lambs were skinned and organs removed, they were each given a thorough wash to remove any remaining blood and seasoned. I’ve never had raw lamb before, but I was so close to taking a big bite out of one of the legs as a congregant passed holding a whole seasoned lamb and I caught a whiff of it; it smelled amazing. Seasoned with olive oil, plenty of lemon, and green seasoning (a Guyanese seasoning staple, though you can buy it here, most people make their own because its way better. A wet blend of parsley, celery, thyme, garlic, hot pepper, and salt; it would taste great off a car bumper), the lambs were placed on grates over the burning coals. Once all the lambs were finally on the grill the service could begin. In the meantime the women were in the kitchen making whole-wheat matzo from scratch, and provision stew (a mixture of ripe and green plantains, eddo, and sweet potato, think of it like a chunky mashed potato mixture).

A little after 9 p.m. the service finally began (and you thought you got hungry waiting through a Maxwell House Haggadah Sedar?). It wasn’t a sedar like I’m used to sitting down at a family table, but rather like a typical Shabbat service at the Center with prayers, songs, and Torah readings with the congregation sitting in rows. And to fulfill the commandment, the Kohen told the story of Exodus, which was by far the shortest part of the entire service! It was only about a paragraph long. Towards the end of the service as the drums beat, the bitter herb was passed around so everyone could get a piece. In Guyana they don’t have horseradish, but instead use carilla, which is actually a bitter vegetable. It makes for the perfect bitter herb.

When the service finally ended a bit after 11p.m. the feast begin (again, anyone else going to complain about how their sedar took forever and they were hungry?). The food was amazing, by far the best matzo I’ve EVER eaten (who would ever say that?!). It was warm and soft and they served it alongside fresh pine(apple) jam. Everybody looked at me like I was crazy when I explained what matzo is like back in the states; a miserable stale cracker. The provision stew was comforting finally eating close to midnight getting some hot food, but the award definitely goes to the lamb. Fresh (about as fresh as it gets) grilled lamb pulled from the bones, I’m not too sure there’s anything better! And as the Kohen explained to the congregation, that in accordance with the Torah, only males that are circumcised may partake in the lamb (circumcision is not a common practice in Guyana) and anyone that would like he can put in touch with a reputable individual who can arrange the procedure (later in conversation with other congregants his work was vouched for as “doing a good job”). The lamb was served on an honor system.

Here there were no four cups of wine, asking of any questions, or finding hidden matzo around the building. People limed (hung out), ate, and talked all through the night. As it’s referenced in the Torah, it’s a “night of watching” so everyone stays (or tries) awake the entire night. The kids love it; it’s like a lock in where they can hang out with their friends all night long. I figured since I finished eating dinner after midnight staying awake until sunrise wouldn’t be so hard. It was the next day that proved the most challenging as I had a presentation to give first thing in the morning back at the office.

The night was a lot of fun. I sat up talking with a lot of the congregants for hours about anything from current politics to the differences between how I celebrate Passover and how they celebrate. Periodically people would get more food and continue the feast, as all of the meat had to be finished by sunrise. Any meat leftover (along with all the bones and organs) would be burned in the fire just before sunrise. Once the first sun’s rays shown through an overcast sky the horn blew and those sleeping woke up for a brief morning service. After a hot cup of tea and a breakfast of some more fresh matzo and fried plantains, I headed straight to the office for a second day of training.

From the outside this seems like a completely different holiday, but it really just sticks with the biblical version to truly celebrate the Feast of Unleavened bread. I was waiting to see if any of the lamb’s blood would be collected and wiped on the door posts, but the Kohen said it wasn’t necessary since that was only for the original Passover and not for the retelling.

No Poppy Seeds or Prunes: A Little Known Fact About Purim

While many of you were dressed up, listening to the Magilla, and enjoying freshly baked hamantaschen this past Purim, I also celebrated in true Guyanese fashion. But first a little backstory…

Everyone knows the Purim story of Esther, Mordechai, and Haman. But few people know the story of Haman’s cousin. Haman had quite a few cousins, as the tribe of Amalek wasn’t small at the time. Pine (pronounced pee-nay) was Haman’s younger cousin who lived in the neighboring Persian town of Bootshan. Growing up Pine’s parents would take their children to visit their cousins in Shushan each year during school breaks. It was during these summer breaks that Pine met Vashti and they soon became lasting friends looking forward to the times when Pine would visit Shushan.

As years went by, their friendship blossomed into romance, but Vashti’s parents had other plans for her. They weren’t about to let her marry a poor Bootshanite. With her beauty they settled for no less than royalty. Fast forward several years, Vashti is now a queen married to King Ahasuerus and Pine is earning a meager living as a baker in Bootshan. Though it had been several years since Vashti became queen and had even seen Pine, her heart secretly belonged to him. They kept in contact through letters written in secrecy being delivered to the palace hidden in loaves of bread that King Ahasuerus ordered from Pine’s bakery in Bootshan.

One day King Ahasuerus ordered Queen Vashti to come to a banquet he was throwing, but she refused. Queen Vashti hated showing herself off to even the King as deep down she missed her true love, Pine. King Ahasuerus was so insulted at Queen Vashti’s refusal that he ordered her execution. When Pine learned of this he knew he would have to act fast if he were to save his long love Vashti. He planned their escape the night before her execution. King Ahasuerus placed an extra order of bread and cakes to be delivered to Shushan in celebration of his soon-to-be singleness. Pine would deliver the order to the palace himself and sneak away with Vashti in the night. Finally they would be together, but where would they go? Every soldier in the vast Persian Empire would be looking for the two of them. They had to travel to the end of the world. Some place no one had heard of or would think to look. Then it hit them. They would escape to Guyana. They would be safe from harm in a country no one has heard of and could finally live together in peace.

Yet things weren’t always easy for those two. Vashti was used to living in a breezy palace and the mosquitos at night were unrelenting. But the two eventually came to enjoy their new home in the Caribbean. Pine put his bakery skills to use and worked at a local snackette learning to make local dishes like cheese rolls, salara, chicken pies, channah, sugar cake, dal puri, sausage rolls, and fresh juices. After sometime of cultivating his knowledge of local delicacies he eventually opened his own snackette.

Word of Pine’s snackette spread near and far and people were coming in droves to the “man wit de tree point hat.” One thing that Pine brought with him to Guyana was his family’s signature hat. Kids would run to Pine’s snackette during school breaks for channah and pholourie and even sing about him on the way.

“De hat it git tree carners,

Tree carners git de hat,

And it not git tree carners,

It ain’t de mans hat”

No one had ever seen such a hat before; even the adults were talking about it. One day one of Pine’s customer asked him, “eh budday, mek some ting strange fo me na? fo me tell me pickney bout de hat pon de goobie.” Pine thought to himself, “Self, what can I make to resemble my hat to sell to this customer?” Pine told him to come back tomorrow and he would make something special for him.

He decided to make fresh pine(apple) jam and stuff it in pastry crust and fold in the sides to make a triangle like cookie. The next day the man returned excited to see what Pine had made him. When Pine presented the man with his creation he took one bite of this large triangle cookie and smiled. One bite into the light and flaky crust revealed the golden jam, packed inside with real bits of pine mixed with delicious Demerara sugar. The man was ecstatic, he bought enough to bring back for his whole family to share and tell of Pine’s strange hat. “What you call dis na?” the man asked. Pine had never thought about a name for this new pastry, “um… a… Pine (pee-nay)… taschen… yea.” The man smiled and walked off with an odd look about his face as he tried to repeat back to himself “pinetaschen.”

The next day when the school bell rang for morning snack a herd of children rushed over to Pine’s snackette. He was getting ready filling bags with hot channah and sour but all he could hear were children shouting, “Please fo some pine (pīne) tart!” Pine was so confused. “What is a pine tart?!” he thought to himself. “You mean a pinetaschen?” he asked the children, who just looked back with blank stares on their faces. Then a child from the back spotted a pinetaschen in his window and pointed, “Look look a pine tart!” Pine figured it out pretty quick, it wasn’t his first day with creolese and was used to hearing words changed and butchered from what he was used to; and he was ok with it.

Each and every day the children would race from school and ask him for “pine tarts” which he smiled and handed out. The pinetaschen soon became everyone’s new favorite snack and everyone was now making these new “pine tarts.” The Guyanese just couldn’t get enough of them and soon every snackette had “pine tarts.” Even former president of Guyana, Janet Jagen, loved the pine tart as it reminded her of growing up in Chicago with her parents during Purim.

 

So Pine’s pinetaschen didn’t stick as a name, but Guyanese sure do love a good pine tart. Probably the best I’ve had is from a snackette in the Linden market from Ramesh (pictured) which I was sure to get one on Purim to celebrate. Even though there’s no hamantaschen filled with poppy seeds or prunes, apricot or chocolate, I love them anyways with their homemade pine(apple) jam. Here’s to Pine and his pinetaschen, and a happy Purim!

History of the World, Part III

You’ve seen Part I I by Mel Brooks, the trailer for Part II, here’s part III, “Jews in Guyana.”

Before coming to Guyana I did a search on Jews in Guyana and all I could find was an article saying how “the last Jew in Guyana” was moved to a Jewish cemetery in Suriname by her children as she requested because there was no Jewish cemetery here, let alone a Jewish cemetery (which I think I found when I was in Paramaribo). So after slightly more research, checking out stats for the country in the World Fact Book, I concluded that I would most likely be the only Jew in Guyana (except maybe another token Jewish Peace Corps volunteer). However, one of the staff members introduced me to a woman named Shaleema that works as a janitor in the office telling me that she was Jewish too, yet I was quite skeptical once she told me that she was a Guyanese. I finally was able to meet her last August and after talking with her she invited me to come along with her to the “Jewish Cultural Center.” Not calling it a synagogue/shul/temple along with her asking me “so how long have you been Jewish?” (to which I responded, “about 25 years now. What about you?”) made me kind of skeptical. Maybe it’s some off shoot of Christianity (there are a ton of different churches here so it wouldn’t surprise me) or maybe this is just one big “lost in translation” moment. Either way I told her I would definitely like to come along the next time I'm free in town; which until this past weekend had been never. Since I was in town all week working in the Peace Corps office on training for Guy 26 and had the following weekend free I asked her again if I could come along to the “Jewish Cultural Center” with her this weekend to which she was excited that I asked.

We talked briefly about it as she asked me if in America there were many “Jewish Cultural Centers” and if we also “have the drums” or the “Hebrew songs.” I told her that yes we also have Hebrew songs and prayers but no drums and there are probably thousands of synagogues across the country, which she really looked stunned when I told her that, maybe more stunned than I was when I found out there was just one cultural center in Guyana. She talked about how they celebrate holidays like Yom Kippur, the Festival of Booths, and the Sabbath, but when I asked her if she was going to celebrate Purim because it was coming up she didn’t know what that holiday was.  I really had no idea what to expect but kept an open mind.

We met at noon at Stabroek market and caught a bus down. As we approached the street she told me that they already started. I asked her how she knew (as everything runs late in Guyana) and she told me she could hear the drums. As we approached the building I could see men dressed in African attire guarding each door with large hand carved wooden staffs. I was escorted through a separate entrance and led to a seat while Shaleema was led through another entrance. There was no mechitza but men sat on the left side of the center isle and women on the right. The room was small holding about 60 or so members with just shy of a dozen drummers up front playing an assortment of drums. Everyone was in African garb. I felt like I was transported back to Ghana. The way the drums beat, the dress, and the way everyone danced and clapped felt straight out of West Africa. All the men wore large crocheted kippahs, similar in style to what Muslim men wear, or wrapped up their dreadlocks (plenty of men and women have their hair locked). Everyone men, women, and babies wore tsit-tsit. And when I say tsit-tsit I don’t mean a tallis, but instead pinned blue yarn to the corners of their garments. The rabbi, who they called Cohen, wore white cotton African garb and a necklace that was a wooden or bone replica of either the breastplate the priests would wear in the temple, or the Ten Commandments. It was only about 4”x6” so I couldn’t make it out exactly, but I’m betting it’s the former. Some of the prayers were in Hebrew but I was thrown off a bit by how they said it. I’m thrown off when I go to other (like reform) services and there are different tunes but can generally follow along. The same thing happened here but exaggerated. One big difference was that they pronounced  יהוה like its spelled, “Yahowa.” And they said “Ya” a lot, which coupled with different tunes, really more like African chants with the drumming, really threw me for a loop. So I’m pretty sure that the prayers were the same, but since it’s been a few months since I’ve read the prayers I’m still left wondering if they're the same or different; either way they’re real  similar. There was a Torah service (along with prayers before and after each reading) that was first read in Hebrew then English, followed by an English Haftora. But no Torah, they read out of a printed Tanakh book and used a projector so others could follow along if they didn’t bring their own Tanakh (where these books came from I have no idea). Throughout the service as well as personal interactions people used “Ivrit” to replace English words and phrases like: Slicha (excuse me), toda raba (thank you), bivakasha (please), tov (good), and yeladim (children) to list a few.

There was a break around 3 for lunch and they resumed around 4 and went until about 7. And you thought services were long in the states! There was a typical sermon and the sisterhood showed a power point to educate the congregation on topics relevant to their needs. That day was about chewing gum, how it’s artificial along with alternatives to achieve fresh breath through natural methods. I thought that was particularly cool to see additional education for the congregation based on their needs. That’s something I haven’t seen at all at any of the other church services I’ve attended. At the conclusion of the service one of the announcements was about how the congregation would have a tent for Mashramani and they would be selling KOSHER and vegetarian food. I was shocked. I was honestly expecting them to say Halaal (or just vegetarian food) as almost all stores and restaurants around Guyana sell Halaal meat/food and I've seen nothing that’s kosher (granted I also haven’t been looking).

I know growing up I’ve heard of Jews in Ethiopia as well as Israel's Operation Magic Carpet but Jews from Africa I’ve thought of more as a myth, like a unicorn; I’ll believe it when I see it. But this congregation really surprised me. The Judaism they practice seems as if it stems from an African tribe that never had contact with the rest of the global Jewish community after the diaspora. Several times I caught myself thinking “hey they’re reading this wrong,” or “they’re doing this wrong.” Then I had an Ethnic Studies realization that what they’re practicing isn’t wrong, it’s just different. What makes the Eurocentric version of Judaism today any more right than what they're doing? And once I had that little epiphany the rest of the service just made sense. There’s still a WHOLE LOT that I don’t know about the congregation (how they formed, who they are as individuals, how does their practice influence their lives, how do they celebrate the holidays, how did the Cohen get from the Bronx to Georgetown, and so much more) but I’d definitely like to find out. Who knows, you might just find me in my West African clothes, large wooden star, and large knit kippah next time I'm in town.

A Reminder of America

Happy New Year! Yes, it’s been some time since my last blog post but I thought y’all might enjoy a couple of guest posts for a little; getting to see what it’s like from someone who doesn’t live here all the time, writing from a pair of fresh eyes. But still it’s been about a month now since Kaylie has gone back to the states and I'm sure some of you have just been counting the days awaiting another blog post from myself. “What has been going on down there!?” you might have found yourself asking. Well pretty much right as Kaylie left I was hit with an onslaught of things all at once which is why this post is more of a catch up after the fact because I haven’t had much time to sit down and write.

“So what are all these things that you could be busy with? I thought you spent your days relaxing in a hammock, eating fresh bananas off your farm, and when you have a chance swing over to the local school to teach a class or two.” Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to catch as much hammock time reading American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis as I would like, but hopefully soon I’ll be able to catch up on it.

First off the end of January marks the end of Peace Corps’ trimester for reporting. That means that (every four months) I compile a larger-than-I’d-like report on everything that I've been doing. This includes everything from what my site is like, any new partners/connections I've made, how I'm doing and how Peace Corps can best assist me, and the most time consuming part is entering all activities that I've lead or been a part of. But entering the activities are more than just a quick description of what happened. I need to include the number of people involved/attended broken down by age groups and sex along with which objectives and indicators the program matched based off of the EH!PICC Framework. The one nice part of doing all this work every four months is that it will make all my paperwork and reports at the end of service that much easier because I can pull the information off of these trimester reports. But the reports don’t stop there! Recently the HM at the secondary school that I teach HFLE (Health and Family Life Education) at asked me to start submitting monthly reports on what I'm teaching. So I had to send in my report for the classes I taught this January. During a quick break from all my computer work out to our veranda for some water, I was joking with my host mom, Verna, saying that I felt like I was back in America. It’s been quite some time since I've sat at the computer for hours upon hours typing reports/papers. I really felt like I was back in the states working and not tropical Guyana.

If it was just those two things I would be fine. However on January 25^th there was a protest in Linden so Peace Corps decided to evacuate me, my site mate, and the volunteers in Linden and bring us out to Georgetown. At first, this might seem a bit drastic of a decision; however about a year ago there was a protest that lasted about two months long with a total city shut down so the decision to pull us out was not without merit. I would have been safe in site, per se, but could have been stuck there if the protest became something bigger as Linden is my gateway to the rest of the country. Imagine receiving a call at 8:20 am, 5 minutes  before you’re about to begin work telling you to go home, pack up for an indefinite amount of time (plan for ~3 weeks) but take everything of importance in case you’re never able to return home and be ready to leave in a few hours. Well that was the call I got on Friday the 24^th. So that was definitely a shock. Something I've become aware of since serving in the Peace Corps is that I'm quite a minimalist. I packed up my necessary things: passports, legal documents, money, computer, clothes, etc. all in my backpacking backpack (or “haversack” as they say here). But being a diabetic, I also had to pack up all of my supplies and insulin so I had an additional box of stuff that I had to lug out of site. But I’ll be honest, I’m kind of upset that the protest didn’t really last longer than a day, I was getting excited for an “e-vacation” in town for a bit. A/C, showers, and wifi are a nice thing once in a while.

In reality though, I was planning on leaving site that Sunday for a jam packed three days of meetings at the office from Monday to Wednesday. I’m on two committees/task forces, one of which I know I've mentioned, GAD (Gender And Development) which is responsible for organizing Camp GLOW, and VAC (Volunteer Advisory Council); essentially the “student body” wing of the Peace Corps where myself along with five others (3 from each group) meet with all of staff to problem solve and relay messages back to fellow volunteers. Both VAC and GAD had meetings with staff these three days and held their own meetings throughout this period. It was a crazy few days, but very productive.

Once I was back in site, Wednesday night, I had only two days before I was back out to Linden. GAD has wanted to organize a boy’s camp to parallel Camp GLOW for girls. The volunteers in Linden organized the first Camp BRO (Brothers Reaching Others). So it was a VERY crazy/stressful/hectic/fun/eye-opening weekend with close to 80 boys ages 11-15 met for the weekend for a two day camp. During the camp I was responsible for co-leading sessions on sexual health and mental and emotional stress, which if you’ve seen the latest Camp GLOW video, we also did paintballing as part of this session. And what better a way to finish camp than grabbing a few beers with the rest of the PCVs who helped out that weekend and heading to a local bar to watch a pirated stream of the Super bowl! I know what you’re all thinking, and yes, I will be on the lookout for Super bowl XLVIII Denver Broncos Champions t-shirts and other apparel; let me know if you’d like one.

Then back to site, but no hammock time as yet. Between finishing my trimester report, monthly report, I am part of a “tools development working group” along with four other members of Guy 25 and Peace Corps staff. Through this group we work on, develop, and test various tools in the field to help other PCVs with their own work. This is aimed to make reporting to various indicators within our job frameworks easier, but also help with various activities in our communities. For instance, I’m working on a tool to measure Positive identity and self esteem

(SSI YD-001-A / PDI HE-211: # of children/youths, out of the total number of children the Volunteer/partner worked with, who described or displayed three or more of their own personal strengths or assets as evidence of improved sense of self-esteem or self-worth).

In one of my HFLE classes I created an “activity” that along with the lesson itself, guides the students to help them identify their developing sense of “self,” values, roles they play in life, and things they excel in. So I've been working on developing this tool to better assist other PCVs in reporting to the same indicator on the framework by using this tool.

Something else I’m excited about is helping my friend at site get into this program. I found out about an opportunity hosted by the US Department of State and ESPNW called the Global Sports Mentoring Program, where 20 women from around the globe are paired with various female executives from US sports organizations and spend a month in the states with them learning business and management skills in the sports field. Only 2 women from each country, i.e. Guyana, are nominated and I’m hoping that my friend will be one of the women chosen. In order to apply, in addition to basic biographical information, she needed to submit her CV (curriculum vitae). That wouldn’t be that hard if we lived in the states, but here a CV is such a foreign concept. So it took some time to sit down with her and explain how all the little things she does and takes for granted, or doesn’t realize she does, has applicable value to include on a CV. She started off saying how she “doesn’t do much;” just goes to church and works in her shop turned into a full page, explaining all the skills gained from just working in her shop (e.g. accounting, organizing, marketing, sales, managing/supervising, budgeting, etc.). I’m really excited to hear how she does as it sounds like a once in a lifetime opportunity.

This next week I’ll spend working in the Peace Corps office for an entire week working alongside staff and two other members of my group to revise the training program for the upcoming Guy 26’s arrival this May. And to kick off my time in town, VAC will be representing Peace Corps at S4's event in town "One Billion Rising"

One Billion Rising began as a call to action based on the staggering statistic that one in three women on the planet will be beaten or raped during her lifetime. With the world population at 7 billion, this adds up to more than one billion women and girls! On Friday February 14, the S4 Foundation will join activists, writers, thinkers, celebrities, and women and men across the world as we express outrage, demand change, strike, dance and rise in defiance of the injustices women suffer, demanding an end at last to violence against women.

I’m really excited for this event to see everyone that comes and to represent Peace Corps at our own booth at the event.

Alright, I need a break from the computer. I’m off to wash about 60 eggs that my host niece just picked.