Thanksgiving and Srefidensi

I'll provide a quick update while I have internet access in the capital:

• On November 19th I ran the Srefidensi Half Marathon at, admitedly, a very slow pace. I was, however, very pleased to finish and enjoyed the race and time spent with other Peace Corps volunteers.
• Yesterday the Ambassador and his wife kindly hosted the PCVs and a couple other American's in country to Thanksgiving dinner at their home. The food was excellent and it was a wonderful way to spend the holiday. Unfortunately I may have overdone it with the food--I very nearly had to be rolled out to the taxi!
• Today is Sredifensi Day, or Surinamese Independence Day. I will not be staying in the city for the festivities but am sure it's bound to be a wild time.
• Special thanks to Ringa Bulatovic for sending me a new camera! It's up and running so I should have a new batch of pictures to upload the next time I'm in the city. Very exciting :)
• The first week in December I will be attending a boys camp in a Saramaccan village on the Suriname River. I'm very excited to see how the camp is executed so that Suzie Kay and I can replicate it in our village to correspond to the Camp GLOW we plan to hold for the girls of Rica in the Spring.

More to come!

6 Months in Suriname

The last month at site has been, well, busy! On several occasions I accompanied women in my village to their grounds (i.e. jungle farms) to help them with their planting. The planting season here generally begins in late August and goes through early to mid-December. While labor is often paid, usually SRD $65/person for one day’s work, many individuals yuu themselves, or rent out their labor in exchange for a day’s worth of labor from the person to whom they have provided services.  Since I cannot accept payment and have no grounds of my own, I come along for free to learn, work and spend time with the people of Rica. Occasionally there is a cold soda or beer in the occasion as well, which I never turn down!

The day’s work is long and hard. Once at grounds, the day begins at 10:00 AM with a prayer, from which point the digging and planting continues (in the hot sun) until 12:00 PM. At noon a snack is served and workers observe a 30 minute break. At 12:30 PM, work resumes until the lunch break from 2:00 – 2:30 PM.  The work continues until 5:00 PM, or thereabouts, in order that the farmers can get back to the boats, load them up and return to Rica before sundown.

Keep in mind, grounds are often over 30 minutes to 2 hours away and the trip usually involves extensive boat and foot travel. This system originated in the years immediately after Suriname’s Maroon slaves escaped into the bush so that their former masters would not also be able to locate the villages if they happened across the planting grounds.

Watching my friends and acquaintances navigate oversized canoes powered by outboard motors through narrow jungle creeks, which are laden with sunken logs and thick reeds, has been nothing short of amazing. Moreover, I have really enjoyed seeing how people here manage to make what would otherwise be an endless continuum of exhausting days into something amusing and social: Song and dance often interrupts furious digging; two boats destined for the same grounds suddenly find themselves in a race.

Project work is occupying a fair amount of time as well. Now that SKB and I have passed the 3-month mark at site, we have Peace Corps’ official blessing to begin projects.  The primary task at hand at present is writing a detailed budget for the conversion of the old dance hall into a daycare. Thankfully our predecessors and a select group of community members did a lot of the leg work already, so we’re mostly fine-tuning and price checking.

I’ve also submitted a proposal to host a community meeting on or about World AIDS Day in which several children from the village will perform a skit on the various means of transmission of HIV. If the presentation is well-received, I hope to follow it up with a series of formal HIV/AIDS trainings for the various demographic subgroups in our community. The proposal includes an incentive, of course—food will be served to the first 100 individuals that come to see the performance. Cross your fingers!

Once the daycare project is completed the community will use what money is left from a previous project to build six to seven pour-flush, community toilets.  In the coming months, the schedule is also replete with personal travels and challenges. I plan to run the Sredefensi half marathon in Paramaribo on November 19^th. Under the circumstances (extreme heat & humidity, lack of an appropriate place to train, etc.), I have no intention of running under a certain time or setting any personal records—I just want to finish.  I’ve done two long runs thus far in preparation, both at a turtle’s pace, and I’m hoping the adrenaline will give me an extra boost.

In early December I hope to observe a camp similar to Peace Corps’ Camp GLOW (Girls Leading Our World) in a Saramaccan village. This one is different, however, because it’s designed for boys. SKB has recently observed a Camp GLOW on the same river. Together, we hope to learn from our counterparts in Saramacca about some of the planning and logistics that go into these camps so that we can host two, one for the boys and one for the girls, on the Cottica River.  We also have the notes of the prior volunteers in Rica to help guide us through this process.

Perhaps most exciting, my parents are coming to visit over the Christmas holiday! We’ve planned a whirlwind itinerary that has them stopping in Paramaribo, Ricanaumoffo, Saint Laurent (French Guyana), Brookopondo and Company Creek. I’m very much looking forward to sharing a little bit of my life in Suriname with them, and to give them a sampling of some of the different cities and activities the country has to offer.

On the flipside of all this fun and exciting news, my patience (of which there was little to begin with) is running thinner and thinner with the behavior of some of Rica’s youth. An episode in the last week of October resulted in my writing and posting formal rules on the door of our house to be abided to by all children visiting our home. The kids have grown accustomed to braking the crayons and puzzles, leaving them strewn about on the balcony. In the aforementioned episode, a group of boys returned SKB’s brand new Adidas soccer ball flat with what appeared to be two razor blade cuts in the side. 

Many of the children here have a real difficulty with the concept of listening, much more than any American children I’ve ever encountered. They also seem not to understand the practice of taking turns. More importantly, several of the children, if not most, disregard all attempts at discipline unless there is a threat of physical violence. 

Unfortunately, the primary form of parenting here comes from the end of a reed or belt. Children are hit for crying, for misbehaving, for making mistakes, etc. In most cases, there are no rational conversations about their behavior, about what is acceptable and what is not and why. There are no warnings preceding the blows, apart from perhaps tapuu i mofu! (shut up) shouted from a distance. The system, in my opinion, does not breed obedient, conscientious children, but unruly ones that don’t understand social systems or behavioral norms, ones that seek power and respect in the form of a fist and are quick to question any authority that tries to maintain order otherwise.  One of the greatest detriments of this system is that it does not enable the children to analyze rewards and consequences because, apart from getting hit, there are none.  Example:

If I cut this ball, I won’t have a ball to play with anymore. If I break or lose the crayons, perhaps Kate/SKB won’t buy me new ones. If I return the ball in a good condition, they will lend it to me again tomorrow. If I put the crayons away, when they run out, Kate/SKB will buy more.

These types of thoughts are, for many but not all, completely non-existent. When we try to explain the rules and consequences, we’re either met with blank stares, ignored or mocked.  They know damn well that neither SKB nor I will ever beat them, so what’s the point of behaving?

There are, of course, a handful of kids who consistently have good manners, listen, clean up after themselves and follow the rules. We try to give these children extra attention and benefits, but the others often spoil their fun.

Another observation I’ve made of the children in our village is that they have an apparent lack of special intelligence with regard to certain specific tasks. Forget reading a map, completing a nine-piece Dora the Explorer puzzle that should take a five-year-old five minutes takes most of Rica’s ten, eleven and twelve-year-olds up to twenty minutes to complete—and that’s if they can do it. They don’t seem to understand that a corner piece has two straight edges, that both the picture and the shape need to fit. And these aren’t dumb kids I’m talking about either—they’re extremely bright. I can’t figure it out.

Lastly, I have two requests. The first is that you shoot me an email, blog comment or Facebook message with the kinds of content (topics or pictures) you would like to see on my blog. I’m not sure what interests people and I’d like to tailor the website to include things that you folks want to read. If you have any suggestions, please share!

Secondly, I’m assembling a reading list for myself and need your help. Kindly share with me (via email, blog comment or Facebook message) the title(s) of your favorite book(s). We have a pretty decent library in the Peace Corps office in Paramaribo and I need help filtering the quality from the garbage. If it helps at all, below I’ve included a list of literature I have enjoyed and that which I do not.

Likes: The Stieg Larsson series, Outliers (M. Gladwell), Half the Sky (N. Kristoff, S. WuDunn), The Kite Runner (K. Hosseini), Atlas Shrugged (A. Rand), Freakanomics (S. Levitt, S. Dubner), Brick Lane (M. Ali), most Shakespear, any and all poetry, short stories—especially anything my Alice Munroe, anything interesting regarding political thought or the history of social progress, themes of social trends

Dislikes: Anything written by Michel Foucault or H.D. Thoreau, books on American politics, most biographies/autobiographies

And for the ever eager philanthropists among you, the list of things I would love to receive in a care package ;)

·         Dried fruit, nuts (favorites are apples, cherries, pecans, almonds)

·         Maple syrup

·         Milk powder

·         Beef jerky

·         GrapeNuts cereal

·         Gatorade powder (in any flavor but grape)

·         Gallon ziplock bags

·         Any instant box salad mix (tabouleh, couscous, etc.)

·         Chocolate chips

·         And for the kids: Coloring books, markers and simple puzzles

That’s all for now! Stay tuned.

Oh the places you will go...

PERSONAL UPDATE

“Hello” from sunny (sweaty) Paramaribo! The whirlwind that has been the last month gives me plenty of content to make up for the recent lack of blog posts. Unfortunately, I missed a couple days of Early Service Training (EST) because of my medical situation. About a week ago I managed to contract an infection in my arm, cellulitis, that caused my elbow to blow up to the size of my fist. The infection continued to spread down my forearm to my wrist, causing my skin to swell, turn red, burn and itch.  Other wonderful side effects included fever and chills, nausea and pain.  I was also concerned that my leg was broken after a very competitive (and unconventional) game of indoor soccer, played without shin guards, led me to kick the shin of an opposing team member while trying to kick the ball.  My leg developed a bump like a baseball and bruised dark purple from my calf down to the bottom of my foot. Thankfully, the x-ray suggests that nothing is broken. 

After a few days on antibiotics my body seems to be healing well; however, the various physical ailments also took quite a toll on my emotional state, so that last few days have been tough.  Many thanks to those that offered supportive emails and phone calls—I’m getting through!

To keep my spirits high, I gave in and bought tickets to Sean Paul.  If your not familiar with the performer, he is, in my opinion, a very mediocre pop/rap star from Jamaica whom I would not normally pay money to see perform. In light of the circumstances, however, that fact that he’s probably the best Western-style music act this country is going to see in the next few years, and that all of my friends here are going, I got on board!  In support of this ridiculous endeavour, I decided to do some retail therapy Suriname style. This was, of course, limited by a very minimal amount of money, but it’s amazing what this country has to offer for next to nothing. I’ve got rhinestone-studded blue jeans, shiny shoes and hoop earrings. The outfit is absurd, but by local standards its Dior couture so I’m feeling fly.

MY RECENT ADVENTURES

In early September Suzie Kay and I visited two other Peace Corps volunteers in an Amerindian village near Albina in northeast Marowijne District.  Located on the banks of the Marowijne River, the community was beautiful and very different from our Aucan (Maroon) site.  Of note, the village is very quiet and spread out.  There seems to be a very different understanding of personal space in the Amerindian culture—meaning that it actually exists. 

On the second day of our visit, we took advantage of being just a short boat ride away from French Guyana and popped over to check out the market in Saint Laurent.  Going through customs on the Surinamese side was a joke. Hundreds of boats cross the border illegally directly from Albina for a price of SRD $10. In order for us to cross legally, however, we had to ask about ten people where the immigration office was—because, of course, no one knew, walk way out of the way to get there, wait in line for the single immigration officer and pay SRD $20 to cross the river.  All of this took about four times as long as if we would have crossed illegally.  Plus, once we got to the French side, the customs officer asked us if we wanted one stamp or two, implying that he was happy to give us two stamps so that we wouldn’t physically have to come back to French Guyana for another visa run, if our papers required it.  He followed this comment up by informing us that we had to get our money changed on the street (illegally) since the cambio isn’t open on weekends, but advised us to be careful because, and I quote, “they are black people.” Racism lives everywhere.

Ironically, the street hustler that converted my money ended up being my neighbor’s brother.  That gave both of us a good laugh.  The size of this country continues to boggle my mind.  You can’t go anywhere, even across the French border, without meeting someone you know or are connected to in some way.

Once at the market, I immediately went into food heaven: There were lettuce, tomatoes, carrots, and a million other treats that Suriname’s limited variety does not include (with the exception of the American grocery store in the capital).  In the middle of the market there’s a covered structure with a Vietnamese restaurant and fresh juice bar. Across from the market there was a bakery that sold baguettes and chocolate croissants. Most importantly, the local grocery stores there sell CHEESE. And I mean more than just Gouda! I. Went. Nuts.

Cheese in supermarket in Fr. Guyana

We also visited the former prison camp and the waterfront nearby, where two abandoned ships made for some excellent pictures.

Old prison camp

One of the abandoned ships, the one not sunk in the middle of the river.

After a very refreshing trip to Albina and Saint Laurent, we returned to site. I had another opportunity to go to grounds with some of the local women where I planted ginger and taro.  It’s great exercise, but exhausting.  We’re smack dab in the middle of the dry season right now so the sun is grueling.  My roommate and I have dubbed the period of 12:00 PM – 2:00 PM “survival mode time” because it takes most of your energy not to sweat to death in our zinc-roofed house.  During that period, we usually give the kids the coloring books and some crayons or send them off to play elsewhere while we lay on our floor, trying to get as much of our body’s surface area in contact with the cold concrete.  A few times I’ve given up and, during high tide, gone to lie on the submerged dock at the riverside.  I realize this is not a culturally normal practice, but I’m still not fully adjusted to the heat. On one occasion the man who lives near the river called out to me and asked if I was dead. I quickly informed him that I was just hot and trying to cool down. I think my motionless body might have given him some cause for concern.

Next, we made a quick weekend jaunt down the Cottica River to attend a Puu Baka, a traditional ceremony in which the spouse of a dead person is pulled out of mourning by the community a year after their partner was deceased, in another village. The village leaders offer food to the spirits in the towe nyan-nyan ceremony and women dance in the faya uudu boto (fire wood boat) on the river to the beat of traditional drums.  We were hosted by another Peace Corps volunteer and managed to booko a dei (break the day), dancing through the night until sunup with the rest of the village.

Myself (center), another volunteer and local woman that came to observe the ceremonies

Women wearing beautiful pangis at the puu baka

Most recently we’ve been on two trips: One to Redi Doti and another to the capital for Early Service Training (EST).  The trip to Redi Doti, an Amerindian village near Brokopondo, was in celebration of a fellow volunteer’s 60^th birthday. In Suriname, on your birthday you are expected to hold a party, hire a band and feed your friends. This particular volunteer and her husband were more than happy to oblige that tradition and even hosted about other volunteers for the occasion.  The birthday girl sported her own hand-made ingri krosi (Amerindian traditional clothes) while villagers prepared cassava wine.  We danced the night away at the local winkel and a good time was had by all.

The birthday girl in her ingri krosi

The day after the birthday party, we all loaded up onto the lantibus to head back to the city. The trip over the long and mostly unpaved road was made longer by the ferry ride, which is a story in and of itself.  Some years ago the government of Suriname decided to build a bridge across the Suriname River near Redi Doti. A week before the beautiful new concrete structure was supposed to open, a drunken barge captain plowed his watercraft into the bridge, ripping out the middle.  Since neither the barge captain nor the government was willing to take responsibility for the damage, the busted bridge remains (unusable) and the ferry boat continues to be the only means across the river.

The bridge near Redi Doti

The last two weeks have been jam packed with trainings on everything from project design and management to edutainment and how to use sport to facilitate basic life skills and professional development. Some of our community partners (from the various villages) came in to talk about Peace Corps and the role of the volunteer.  My brain now floweth over with information—all of which it can not possibly retain, and I’m ready to take a few days to relax, eat and develop pictures before heading back to Ricanaumoffo!

Many, many thanks go to some of my former colleagues at UTC, who sent me a couple boxes of goodies and reading materials.  Likewise, Mom and Dad are owed my gratitude for their most recent contribution.  Lastly, a big hug to Ringa for graciously offering to send me a camera since mine broke last week.  You are all amazing and you literally sustain me when I can’t fathom another plate of rice or pasta.

To those who’ve inquired, I could use the following items:

·      AAA batteries (go through them like fat kids go through candy…blame the headlamp)

·      Parmesan cheese (it will not spoil in the mail, don’t worry)

·      Granola

·      Beef jerky

·      Coloring books and crayons (for the kids)

·      Fashion magazines

·      Ground coffee

·      Grape nuts or other healthy cereals

·      Gatorade powder

·      Instant oatmeal (any flavor, even plain)

·      Lara or Cliff Bars

·      Pecans, almonds

·      Dried fruit

·      A frizbee (for the kids)

·      SALSA …please!!!!!

·      Canned chicken

Kelly Roney, I will send you a personalized email list :)

Pictures

 Kinota that I ran into at the durotank. These are postmortem, of course.

 Bush spider that I found IN MY BOOT when I went outside to take a picture of the snake I'd just killed.

 Nukse standing over her dead prey. Nukse, frog killer extraordinaire is standing over her prey post-execution.  (Two little buggars that found their way into my room).

 Christine and her grandchildren the day we went to grounds with them to pic watermelons.

The boat, loaded with the day's crop.

Snakes, Spiders and Watermelon

The last week has been an emotional rollercoaster, to be sure.  Not short on excitement, it’s also given me a couple good stories. Last night, for example, when I went out to the durotank to fill the spaghetti pot with water I forgot to take my flashlight. When I felt something on my arm, I assumed it was a tree frog, which are everywhere, and tried to fling it off. When the “frog” fell into the pot, I realized that it was long and skinny. Turns out that it wasn’t a tree frog at all, but rather a Kinota (local name for a Fer de Lance snake), which is deadly and aggressive.  After killing the snake with a hoe, I grabbed my rubber boots (protection against any other poisonous snakes lurking about it the dark) and camera to get a picture.  I shook out my boots and stepped in. Apparently I did not shake hard enough because a big, fuzzy jungle spider was in my right boot and met my toe when I stepped in. Thankfully, neither the snake nor the spider bit me. I think my guardian angel was working overtime last night.

On a more positive and hopefully less frightening note, on Wednesday Suzie Kay and I went to grounds (jungle farm land) with a local couple.  We walked the three kilometers to their first grounds, then trekked a short path to the river where we, along with their youngest son and three of their grandchildren, piled into two small homemade canoes.  In the canoes we headed across the river and down a ways to a small creek. Once stopped, we hiked another kilometer through a swampy area to the second grounds.

In these grounds (at this time of year) the crop is watermelon. I’d never picked watermelon before, so Fankali showed me how to tell if one is ripe. A small leaf atop the melon on the vine dries and turns brown and the melon itself, when tapped, produces a deep hollow sound. Over the next hour we harvested about 200 watermelons and ate about two each.

Next, we had to transport the watermelons to the boat, so we each loaded up with as many as we could carry and made several trips back and forth to the creek where Fankali had replaced one of the smaller boats with a larger one that had an outboard motor (lent from his brother).  To my own surprise, I could carry seven watermelons at once—four smaller ones in my backpack and three midsized ones in my arms.  Others carried buckets or burlap-style sacks on their heads. 

It’s amazing how quickly your eyes adjust to the jungle path. On my first trip down to the creek, I thought I was lost when, at one point, I couldn’t identify where the path was and wasn’t. Although certain parts of the path are obvious (cleared trees, foot prints in mud), others are not so clear. On my return jaunt, however, I took more notice of where the leaves were trampled a bit, where sticks were snapped, and the “path” became more obvious.

In addition to the impressive navigational strengths of our fellow villagers, who cut these paths by hands and slash and burn their grounds year after year, the physical strength of these individuals is hugely impressive. The couple that hosted us is in their sixties. Once the watermelons are transported to the boat, they are paddled by hand (oh yes, the motor didn’t have fuel) through the creek to the river and across the river to the camp from where they are loaded into a truck and later unloaded to be sold in Rica.  We walked at least five miles that day, most of which with a load of watermelons in tow.

The best part, of course, is that we nearly sunk on the way back from the grounds! The loaned boat was old and broken and, with the weight of five people and 200 watermelons, literally began to split at the seams. Christine, wife of Frankali, had to bail the boat out with a large bucket the entire way back because the water was pouring in so quickly. Despite the fact that I’m a good swimmer, sinking in a jungle creek full of eels, snakes and camens is not my idea of a good time!

More to come! (Photos of snake did not upload properly and will be added in a couple weeks when I visit the city).

If you are inspired to send a care package, the following will bring me substantial happiness:

• Beef jerky
• Parmesan cheese
• Mac ‘N’ Cheese
• Raisins or dried fruit
• Milk powder
• Powdered mashed potatoes
• Cliff bars or Lara bars
• Magazines
• Cornbread muffin mix
• Gatorade powder

Quick City Trip

I came into Paramaribo today to pick up mail and packages and have been overwhelmed by the generosity of my family. First and foremost, thanks and love to everyone that has been supporting me with your kind words, encouragement and, particularly in my parents case, sweets and treats. I'm not sure that I can every repay the favor but I am grateful just the same.

The last few weeks have been both fun and exhausting. The kids are out of school for summer vacation so our porch is continually filled with youngsters wanting to color, sew, do puzzles, play zingo/UNO, bake cakes, etc. The dry season seems to have come early (though I'm told it has been raining in the capital) so our durotanks are running low and we're sweating non-stop between the hours of 9:00 AM - 6:00 PM. It's amazing how exhausting doing nothing can be when your world is converted into a sauna!

Between babies urinating and defecating on and around our house (diapers are not frequently employed in our village), and children lying about their birthdays to get cake and American coins, other mischief is in the air. Our resident Sapakaa (a large lizard), whom we have named Frank (pronounced Frahnk), decided to attack Colonel Sanders (our neighbors chicken who likes to sneak into our house). Colonel Sanders was displeased by the act of war and was only sparred thanks to the generosity of my 13 year-old neighbor who forcibly separated the two.

Another adventure transpired when two of our good friends in the village offered to take Suzie Kay and I to grounds, their farm land in the jungle.  We hopped in their hand-made wooden canoe with a machete, a hoe and four fishing poles and headed down the river to one of the many local creeks.  After paddling down the creek for five minutes or so, we "parked" the boat between a large stick and the creek bed and trecked off into the bush. After balancing on felled trees in the swamp area, we following a footpath to where a large section of the jungle had been cleared. A huge hardwood stump remained where someone had cut a tree to make a boat. In the cleared area plantains trees are mixed in with ginger, sugar cane and pom taya (a kind of taro) plants.  A small lean-to has been constructed of wood and corrugated zinc to provide shade. After digging for an unsuccessful sweet potato crop, we took a seat and munched on fresh sugar cane.

A short while later, having no sweet potatoes to pick, we hiked into the bush looking for baka beti (night crawlers) with which to fish. Unfortunately, due to the recent dry spell, there were none to be found so we had to head off to another clearing on yet another creek. This time, about 15 minutes and several mosquito bites later, we were triumphant! In the center of a decaying log we hit worm-bait bingo.  Back in the boat we rigged our poles (a rudimentary hook, line and wooden hand-widdled pole) and dropped our lines. Less than five minutes later the first fish was caught. I think we got eleven in the end--from several fishing holes on different creeks--and, of course (being as I am the only one afraid of fish) I caught the only carnivorous one--a small Pataka with razor sharp teeth! Thankfully, no Piranhas.

The ride home was worth a laugh and a half. Although I had muscled the paddle on the way to the bush, I had not steered the boat. This time round, our hosts handed the paddles over and I took the "helm." Suffice it to say that Aucan canoes do not steer in the same fashion as American ones. I zigzagged us across the Cottica the whole way back :oP

Some not so pleasant updates:

• Tree frogs LOVE my room. I found yet another one (not sure of the total count) in my room this week. This time in my sock. 
• I have developed a dark, raised rash on my hand which the doctor informs me is some kind of Eczema likely brought about by the soap I was using to wash clothes. He's provided some sort of cream and suggested (rightly so) that I switch soaps. Goodbye Ozone.
• Constant sweating has also caused a fungal infection, a form of Tinea, to grow on my upper arms, cheeks and chest. It's totally harmless as far as I know but has the unfortunate effect of removing the pigment from my skin. So as the rest of me gets tanned the Tinea-affected regions are turning white. Think of Michael Jackson circa 1994...
• Some of my fellow villagers BBQ monkey...WHOLE. It looks so precious and innocent as it turns on the spit (as my bewildered roommate explained it to me I had to cringe).
• The same villagers who told me not to run alone on the path because it's not safe are now asking me why I've only signed up to run the half marathon on November 19th, as opposed to the full. Apparently the lure of competition trumps their fear for my safety. While I'm encouraged by their safety I'm peeved that I didn't think to use the excuse of a race sooner...perhaps I could have been training for the last month!

Special thanks to Jeremy and Patrick for letting me crash on their floor for the night.  And even more thanks to the villager (and mentor) who very cleverly (and generously) paid the wagiman for my ride today so that I wouldn't have to wait for the government bus.  That's all for now. I can't load pictures because the internet connection at the office is less-than-speedy at present. Will do so on my next trip to the city when I have more time. 

PS: If you've sent a package and have not received a "thank you,"please don't think I'm being rude--it's not for lack of manners but rather for the slow post service (meaning I haven't gotten it yet).  It can take over a month for packages to arrive.  Letters, on the other hand, seem to get here within a week or two. So if you still own a pen and paper, set your keyboard aside and shoot me a note :)  Thanks for reading--more to come!