IN THE MIDST of the Saturday Young Reader’s School, a feast arrived.

Look at this pot, this lid—pounded and shapened into a lid, the handles (carried in with towels), funky to USA standards, but my gosh, isn’t it fascinating?

This woman brought to Ms. Jeanne and us, cruisers, and the kids, a delicious lunch treat. Why? I don’t know, except her daugher is one of the kids that comes every Saturday to the Young Reader’s group.

I couldn’t help myself and lifted the lid to see what was inside. It was fragrant “dirty rice” with chicken. Dirty rice is not “dirty” as we know dirty, but browned with herbs and sauces of the island of spice. The smell was intoxicating. I could hardly wait to eat. And of course I, as well as others, pigged out.

What a special day for us, the volunteers, at the Mt. Airy Young Readers gathering. It’s one of the most fulfilling things I do while away from home; it’s becoming a home, and I love it, just love it. Speaking of gratitude . . .  thank you.

See these darling children? This is why I was so eager to set sail and get Gene and Moody Blues back to Grenada so I could hop on the bus and head up to the Mt. Airy Young Readers school. It fascinates me that there is such a variation in age, like about 4 to 17. But this last time (Sat. Jan 23 oops they do it different 23 -1-10: day, month, year) I was seeing more clearly: twin 12 year old boys, girls that were obviously sisters, boys that were obviously brothers, a boy and/or girl that were obviously siblings.  

 This is Ms. Jeanne who runs the school.

This is Ms. Hope who runs the volunteer cruisers. 

Ninna, s/v Embla, she’s alway there, very dedicated. This is Tevon, he’s one of the twins.

I like this shot of Ms. Jeanne. She’s really a beautiful woman.

When we were in the Bahamas in the late 90s, early 2000s, and Gene volunteered to help build a house for a 90-something year old man who lost his house in a hurricane, another volunteer invited us over to his boat and he explained to us that people volunteer for themselves; that it’s something you do to feel good about yourself. I sort of hate to admit that I didn’t get that and I’ve thought about that a lot. But it’s true. I feel really good (I’m not sure if it’s about “my self”, but about my time spent–like I’ve done something worthwhile) when Gene comes picks me up in the dinghy after a Saturday with the kids. I’m tired–maybe a bit brain-dead, because as most of you know we’re not parents nor teachers, but I feel great! I’ve been challenged, I’ve had fun and man what a photo opportunity it is for me. I love it!

P.S. More kids read but I didn’t get shots of them. Shame on me . . .

                Look down—HAITI—is directly below.

                                                                                                                             Look up—GRENADA—is directly above.

Signs were posted all over Grenada to help our Haitian brothers and sisters. Bins were set up in markets and at various spots. For us cruisers they had drop off points at Sail lofts, marinas, and boat charter offices. Over the net and on the signs we were encouraged to give potable water, canned foods, dishes, utensils, plates, TP, clothes, bedding—things for immediate use.

At the market we bought extra to put in the bins. Peanut butter was suggested and so that we mostly put in the bin along with rice and boxed milk and odds & ends.

As the deadline grew near for the container to be shipped off to Haiti we went through the boat and loaded up Moody Blues’ dinghy. It was amazing that so much of the stuff we thought we needed, we really didn’t, and knew the Haitian people could definitely need more. Gene dug out the 2 man tent he was saving for a special outing and felt really good about the fact some body in Haiti will make a sweet little home out of it.

So THANK all of you who emailed your concern over our welfare. We are about 700 miles from Haiti, as you can (sort of) tell from the above map. We feel very blessed to be safe and sound, yet heartbroken for all the tragedy the poor country of Haiti has sustained.