Getting Caught up

One of the many challenges I have faced here in Jamaica is the lack of any consistent internet access so I have not been able to post for several weeks now.  I will attempt to do a bit of catching up.
July 9, Doing Laundry in Jamaica

Doing laundry here at Mabel's in Hellshire, Jamaica is a very different experience than at home with my Whirlpool washer and dryer.  First of all, I am washing my clothes by hand using two plastic tubs, one for washing and one for rinsing.  Mabel is sitting nearby talking to a neighbor, Spunky, who is standing by the gate.  Mabel asks if I see a "pumpkin" and I say "no".  They both laugh because the "pumpkin" is referring to Spunky's advanced state of pregnancy.  The talk and laughter continue as I wash.  I sing some folksongs in Patwa that I recently learned which results in gales of laughter from Mabel and Spunky.  There is a lovely ocean breeze and I can see the turquoise sea from where I am washing clothes.  The whole process is very enjoyable and relaxing.  Even hanging the clothes on the line is a pleasant experience with the breezes and sunshine.  There is a Seventh Day Adventist Church across the street and as it is Saturday, they are meeting all day into the evening and beautiful familiar church hymns drift on the air.  After hanging the clothes, I feel lazy and decide to just sit in the sun for awhile and soak up the rays, the warmth, the music and the cooling breezes.  I hear the familiar hymn "Trust and Obey" and think about learning that song as a young child attending the little Baptist Church in Wyandotte, Oklahoma.  I pondered the time from then till now, some 55 years thinking "who could have guessed then where I would be now, age 63, singing to the strains of that cherished hymn.  Life is amazing, full of so many twists and turns and unforeseen experiences and blessings.  One must stay open, flexible and just "trust and obey".

July 11,  My First Jamaican Hair Cut

I decided that I just needed to be brave and get my hair cut here in Jamaica.  One of the Peace Corps trainees lives with a family where the host mother has a beauty shop in her home.  So, I am thinking, what the heck - how bad can it be?  Virna has her beauty shop on the porch of her home.  I told Virna to just trim it up a bit.  I was not able to see the result until she finished.  As she worked, I kept thinking "this is a lot of hair coming off especially since my style is already quite short."  Well, when she was done and turned me to look at the results, I saw Pema Chodron, the Buddhist nun looking back at me!  I basically had a shaved head.  Even though I was a bit taken aback, I thought, "Oh well, it will be cooler and no maintenance and besides, it will grow back."  Maybe Virna thought, "I don't know what to do with this white lady's hair, so I will just cut it all off!.  I secretly have always wanted to shave my head, true confession.

July 20,  Living With Ceclin

I am now living in Stony Hill with another host Mother, Cecelin, who is 60 years old and her son, Oliver, age 24.  Cecelin is thin and a hard worker.  She owns a coffee bean farm and a man works it for her.  She said the Japanese usually buy the coffee beans but because of their earthquake and tragedies, the bottom fell out of that market this past season and she did not make much money.  She does not overfeed me like Mable did and is helping me lose weight which is a very good thing, to become less "fluffy".  She is a lovely person and her life has been marked by great tragedy.  She had three children and a daughter died from encephalitis at age 15, her husband was robbed and murdered about 10 years ago and following that, her 25 year old son committed suicide.  Her remaining son works very hard at the airport and goes to school working on a degree in business.  I asked her how she had endured such tragedy and heartbreak and she replied " you have to mon, God knows best."
I have learned that many peoples lives in Jamaica have been touched by similar stories.  The women are amazingly stoic.  There is a Patwa saying "Teck kin teet kibba heart bun" which means "you smile to cover the pain in your heart" which I have certainly witnessed in these women.  Mabel also had experienced the tragedy of her only son being shot and killed in a robbery in New York a few years ago leaving behind two very young children.

July 25, "My First Blinkin Bus Ride"

Riding the bus in Jamaica is slightly less painful than a root canal but not much.  We Peace Corps Trainees all had to "shadow"  another volunteer this past Monday through Wednesday.  This meant traveling to the volunteers community, staying in their home and going to the work site with them.  I was fortunate in that I did not have to travel very far and was with another trainee "Judge Judy" - a real judge from Kentucky named Judy.  We had to travel to May Pen, a community about an hour from Kingston.  We left Stony Hill Monday at 6:00am and took a shuttle bus to the Kingston Country Bus Park.  We had packed our things together in one suitcase which was smart.  The scene at the bus park is always utter chaos with "ductors", men who direct people to the right buses (hopefully), vendors selling snacks, etc., and people begging.  The ductors are yelling, grabbing your arms, and in some instances, fighting over prospective passengers as it means more money for them the quicker they fill their buses and "touch di road."  Once on the bus, the misery begins.  What under normal circumstances should be a 24 passenger bus becomes 31 passengers, some managing bags and suitcases, backpacks, etc.  This means that you must "small yuh sef up" and try to cram 6 people in a row designed to comfortably seat 4, 5 at the most.  I ended up on the "jump seat" which is a small pull down seat in the middle of the aisle.  In an attempt to "small mi sef up" I had my left arm and shoulder behind me and one half of my butt on the seat next to me and the suitcase in my lap which was also overlapping on the persons on either side of me.  I was more intimate with the young man to my left than I would ever be with a "romantic interest" let alone a complete stranger.  I had a steel rod on the side of the jump seat pressing tortuously against my spine and my left hand, in an attempt to brace from totally flinging myself in the young man's lap to my left was, unbeknownst to me, gripping the man's knee in a seat behind me.  I thought it was part of the seat!  I guess people are so accustomed to this misery they just ignore the mingling body parts or take advantage and cop a feel!  Sitting in front of me was a man  that as soon as the bus started, so did he, preaching that is.  We had been told that is not uncommon to have preaching on the bus. So in full voice, never once faltering, and quoting many scriptures, the sermon continued for 45 minutes!  And let me tell you, I was ready to meet Jesus before this ordeal ended.  finally, the bus stopped, and the man to my left got off so that I could straighten up and contain my girth and suitcase toone small seat.  Judge Judy who was behind me had discreetly moved her purse under my left arm and removed my hand from the man's knee.  Praise hymns were now being played and I wanted to shout "Hallejuia and praise God" for being able to move my body.  I was sure that when the time came to get off the bus, I would need to be airlifted to a hospital due to permanent physical alterations of my body.  However, I am happy to report that I was able to depart the torture chamber on my own accord and live to see another day. Praise God!