Sorry for the long delay since my last
post. The past few weeks have been busy
to say the least, and I am still without internet at my house. After we finished our sector training in
Ewarton we still had yet to have site orientation (where we are actually
spending the next two years) as well as about one week more in Kingston
finalizing our training and prepping for swearing in. That last week I mentioned was mostly spent
poolside at our hotel with a beer or glass of rum and ting in our hands. It was a good week.
I have now been at my permanent work site
since swearing in as an official Peace Corps Volunteer on May 18th. I’m proud to say that I seriously ended up
with the sweetest site of the lot of us, if you ask me. I have my own little house in a compound with
another family less than 5 feet away.
The yard is beautiful, the school is a stone’s throw away, and the
school staff and parents are super caring and involved in community happenings. While I didn’t care so much about the actual
community/location that I would end up in, I realized right from the get go how
much the interest and involvement level of my school colleagues does matter -
and I definitely lucked out.
The teachers and principal at my school
My school
My likkle house
To mark my first day at site with good
luck, the rain fell right after my arrival and I got a marriage proposal within
24 hours of being here. Then, my first
full school day started with a colder than usual cold shower (due to the cool
mountain air) and I headed to the school to introduce myself to the kids I
hadn’t already met the previous night and join in on devotion (p.s. Jamaicans
pray before and after everything, and I do mean everything). After being shown around the village and the
nearest “town” as well as meeting all the prominent community members I headed
back to the school to finish off the day.
The kids had an impromptu talent show in the afternoon since it was
Teachers’ Day and the rain was falling so there wasn’t much hope of hearing it even
if there was a lesson. These kids can
dance and sing with the best of them.
So far my job has been rewarding as well as
challenging in ways I couldn’t have imagined.
The kids at school are so curious about everything I have to say,
whether it be teaching them a little French here and there or answering their
unending personal questions about me. I
think I have done an ok job at teaching them something about cultural
sensitivity even in this short time. One
example is piercings. Here, if you have
exotic piercings or even more than one hole in your ear you may be perceived as
a go-go (stripper). So naturally they
had some questions about the closed up holes in my ears that are still visible
when looking from a few inches away. I
seriously thought I was protecting myself from this talk by removing all my
facial piercings and minimizing the ear ones to 2 each, but these kids are
looking at me with a microscope! I
explained that in American culture it is not just the go-go’s that get
piercings, but often people just trying to express themselves. A couple of them got it I think, but most
still had looks of disagreement on their faces.
One girl even went so far as to say that if you have more than one hole
in your ear you cannot be a Christian.
This was my cue to rant about how when the bible was written even doing
things like eating all the candy and sugar the kids pump themselves full of
would be considered a violation of your temple.
Then I think even fewer of them understood. That’s when I called it a day.
Another time I was telling the kids about
America and how cold it is where I’m from.
They have an understanding of snow from TV, but have never seen it, of
course. When I told them the winter
temperature in Celsius and explained how high the snow gets and what
maneuvering in it is like, one little girl said, “Wow, you must have to wear
TEN SHEETS!” I laughed out loud despite
my best efforts to hold it in. You see
on this island, people almost exclusively sleep with only a sheet. That’s how hot it is. Don’t get me wrong, they do have thin
blankets, but the only way I could explain the kind of blanket I have always
slept with was to say it’s like two thick sheets sewn together with the fur
from baby chicks stuffed inside. This
was marvelous to them.
During my short time observing and learning
in Jamaican schools, I have discovered some wonderful things and also some
difficult things to deal with about the system.
Foremost of the difficult things is the fact that the grade a child is
in is not based at all on academic merit, but rather solely on his or her
age. Our Program Manager told us a story
about when she was teaching seventh grade and the census had changed the age
that a student must be to be in that grade.
She said an administrator just came in one day and escorted a student
who was too old from her seventh grade class to the ninth grade. Mind you, the student was not at all prepared
for ninth grade curriculum, but that was the way of it and nothing could be
done. I know I said in my last blog I wasn’t
going to try to change the system, but some things REALLY make me want to
try! The cultural differences are easier
to adjust to than the political ones.
During training I went to my first “nine
night”, which is a celebration traditionally thrown by the family of a deceased
person and is held 9 days after that person dies. These days I think it’s more like 9 days
after the funeral to allow time for relatives who have migrated to return. Everyone is invited, whether you knew the
deceased person or not. You just show up
and they’re all happy to see you. My
experience was probably not so typical of a usual nine night due to the fact
that us trainees went at about 8pm and I left by 11. Normally, the party starts at 10 or later really,
and goes until dawn-ish, but I am usually in bed by 10 so that was just not
happening. When we arrived they were
still playing Motown music, which we all enjoyed very much despite it being
broadcast at an earsplitting volume. It
was just so out of place, though, after weeks of nothing but reggae, dancehall,
and ska. We played dominoes, drank Red
Stripe, scream talked, and did a little two steppin’ white person dance.
After my second beer I decided it was a
fantastic idea to sit on the ground and pet the dog that had been lying listlessly
in the midst of the pandemonium for the duration of my time there. Would you believe that several Jamaicans,
upon seeing what I was doing, turned towards me to point and laugh? Of course they did. They don’t have the same relationship with
their pets as Americans do. Here, dogs
are solely outside animals and their purpose is to protect. They are feared by most Jamaicans, but also
beaten or have rocks thrown at them by people young and old. I’m not even a big dog person, and this seems
ludicrous to me. One thing I have
learned though is that if you pet a dog he’s yours for life and will protect
you to his last breath. One of my host
family’s dogs, Rex, proved this to me by following me to class every day since
I started treating him like a companion.
No matter what I did that stinker would find a way out of the gate and
trot beside me the whole way down the hill the mile-ish distance to the
community center, barking and snipping at any other dog or person who got too
close or possibly looked too ominous by his standards. I found it as endearing as the multiple scars
on his adorable little 19 year old face.
Somehow I think it makes it harder that I
have most of the comforts of home here. I have electricity and running water,
so why can’t I have hot water and internet too?
It seems like if I had to poop in a hole and read by candlelight I might
not miss internet so much, because it would be such a long shot. But here it’s just out of my reach and it’s
quite bothersome. Hopefully I will work
this situation out shortly (the internet not the hot water that is).
I have had a chance to visit a few of the other volunteers at their sites and see a bit more of the island, and all I can
say is that I can’t wait until all of you visit me. This is a beautiful country that reminds me
to be appreciative of living in a place that other people spend their life
savings to visit every single time I walk out my door. Sometimes I just have to laugh at the utter
absurdity of some situations-like when I was in a taxi that actually managed to
fit 9 people in it (only 2 were less than adult age). But it’s surprisingly still not that bad, and
I’ve learned that laughter gets me through those awkward moments. I must also mention as a warning to those of
you who may visit that my skin is in a perpetual state of peeling. Despite my efforts to bathe in sunscreen, my
shoulders and chest are taking some serious heat. The good news is that under the peeled skin
is still more tanned skin, unlike in the past when the tan would peel off to
reveal even whiter skin than I had to begin with. At this rate they will be calling me brownin
(and not whitey) in no time! I think
I’ll end this entry with one of my famous lists… likkle more (later)!
Briana and I at swearing in (check the fab tan, yo)
Things I miss from home:
Being able to find and buy anything I want
in every town in America
Stevia
Good internet access
Driving
Not being scared to travel at night
New things I’ve discovered that I love and
don’t know how I ever lived without:
Jackfruit
Bammy
Constant marriage proposals (don’t judge
me, it’s good for my self esteem)
Sunny days, everyday
Daily hugs from about 80 children
Falling asleep to crickets chirping
Watching the rain pound on the earth nearly
every day
