Well, I survived Christmas. I spent the 24th, 25th and part of the 26th with a Jamaican family that I like very much.; that part was good. What I had not planned on was spending 7 hours in church on Sunday and not just any church but a full of the holy spirit pentecostal church! My Methodist upbringing would be considered comatose by comparison. You cannot imagine the loudness and in general, energy of this service. Imagine over 100 voices singing off key, someone "banging" not playing a keyboard, drums, tambourines, hands clapping, shouting, bodies jerking, arms flailing and whoever holds the microphone yelling or screaming into it. I was wise to this cacophonous experience and came prepared with earplugs! They definitely helped but did not fully lower the volume. A woman next to me who was quite large and had a 2 year old boy stretched across her lap sleeping (how, I cannot imagine) and was suddenly seized by the holy spirit and began twitching and jerking, jabbing me in the arm with her elbow and the boy slept on. An old man at the alter got the spirit and began spinning wildly, flailing arms and oblivious to anyone around him. The minister and elders did not want to stop this holy demonstration and kept the music, singing, praising going for full 30 minutes and at last spent, the old man stopped. Only then did the service end. I was so glad it was over as I had been sitting on those hard wooden benches for 3 hours! I was then informed over lunch that we would be going back in the evening for the children's program. I almost wept. We did indeed return for the 7pm performance which lasted till 11:30pm! I had reached my limit of graciousness and cultural sensitivity and when asked how I liked the service, I said that I was tired and cannot manage the noise level. My hosts exclaimed "We are supposed to make a joyful noise to the Lord!" to which I replied "not if it means sustaining a hearing loss and a splitting headache!" I have observed in and out of church that Jamaicans are not bothered in the least by loud noise. From cradle to grave, they must endure it. In fact, it may even provide the excitement and adrenalin surges that some Jamaicans seem to thrive on.
I did manage to avoid going to the grand market which is probably the only thing that saved me from a complete breakdown. That is where children who are fortunate enough to get a Christmas present go with their parents and may be given $3 to $10 American dollars to buy some toys. It is a far cry from the more typical American excesses during the holidays. Adults do not give gifts in general and there are few decorations, lights, and decorated trees. Most people just spend the day with family and cook some traditional dishes if they can afford to do so.
I am spending New Year's Eve alone at home and I do not know what to expect as far as the local celebrations are concerned. The smell of ganja is already wafting on the Christmas breeze.! Tomorrow, I will go to the Methodist Church with my friend, Madge who has invited me to lunch at her home after church. This evening, I will listen to some music, open a bottle of wine, journal about this year and intentions for .
the next and maybe watch a movie on my laptop. It may sound pitifully boring and sad to some, but to me, it will be nirvana.
I am including a few pictures.. At the beginning, a house in my neighborhood where the pickni sing out "hi, auntie mimi" when I walk by. There are two pics of Burrwood beach, about 20 min. taxi ride from my house and children playing in my backyard. The pic above is of my Jamaican grandchild, Kemoy, age 3 standing by my backdoor. She is my landlord's daughter.
"It has been quite a ride" as they say. This past year has brought so many changes to my life and a huge lesson in letting go. I have no regrets but admittedly, December has been a tough month for me as I have missed my family, friends, traditions, etc. I know it is a transitory sadness and a bit of loneliness but I signed up for this gig, so onward and upward.. I wish you all a delightfully happy, healthy and peaceful 2012!
As I journal this evening, I will begin with words from T. S. Eliot "For last year's words belong to last year's language and next year's words await another voice."
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