IFYE Program Newsletter

The rough, rocky start has become quite smooth over the past month. What I once saw as unclimbable mountains have become mere speed bumps. Some lyrics to the "Song of Peace" come to mind when I think of my adventure thus far.

"…A song of peace for lands afar and mine. This is my home, the country where my heart is.…But other hearts in other lands are beating With hopes and dreams as true and high as mine. My country's skies are bluer than the ocean And sunlight beams on cloverleaf and pine. But other lands have sunlight too, and clover And skies are everywhere as blue as mine. … "

Last month, I worked with children between the ages of 10 to14 in Wawrzenc-zyce. Pencils and paper were scarce, so I taught many songs and games. When I left that village, they had perfected "Indian Braves," "Make New Friends," "You are My Sunshine," and "Leaving on a Jet Plane." They were still working on "The H's Four." They wish to perform it in Warsaw on September 7 during the National 4-H Conference.

I moved to Baszyn on July 30. My second host family is amazing. They raise wheat and rye along with 262 pigs. With three Massey Ferguson tractors sitting out back and a combine in the shop, I feel right at home. In this village, all the houses are together on one street. Their corresponding fields are farther out of town. They just had a new litter of 16 piglets this morning. I hope to take part in the ear notching, tail docking, and castrating in a few weeks.

A grandfather, grandmother, father, mother, 15-year-old son, and 12- year-old daughter and an 18-year-old nephew make up my second host family. Antoni, the father, is a farmer and Basia, the mother, stays at home. Together they raise this family.

For breakfast the first morning there was a bag of corn flakes and a carton of milk sitting on the table. They said they had seen Americans eating a lot of cereal on television, and thought it would make me feel at home. They are incredibly sweet to me.

During the day, I teach English to children in the neighboring village, Winsko. I return, by foot, to Baszyn around 6 p.m. Then I help feed the pigs and the family usually plays cards. I am learning many versions of Polish poker.

The 15-year-old boy, Pawoul, knows roughly 100 English words. Thus, my dictionary has become my best friend. We draw a lot of pictures and use our own sign language most of the time! I am very fortunate to be hosted by this family. They are wonderful.

At this point in the journey, I'm craving a crunchy peanut butter and jelly sandwich topped off with a gallon of skim milk.

Until next time,
Shanna Dick