So we have just begun learning the native language, Patois,
but already some differences in the way they speak cannot be ignored. “Hello, good night!” Was how my host father
first greeted me. For some reason they
take our usual, “Good morning, afternoon, evening” to a new level… and I like
it. And when they’re actually going to
bed they say, “Night night”.
That is them speaking formal English. Patois is what they describe as pigeon or broken
English. I played dominoes (the Jamaican
pastime) for the first time last Saturday with my host mom, Nikki, and a couple
of the neighbor guys. This turned out to
be a fabulous observing (and kind of learning) experience for Patois. They went easy on me and my host mom (who had
never really played before), and I was blessed with beginners luck. The game is surprisingly like poker. So after a while of enduring our naivety, the
guys wanted to play a real game with the “professionals”. This is when English went out the
window. I understood less than half of
what they said, and thought they were going to get in a fist fight more than
once based on the body language being thrown around (and I do mean thrown), but
no. It was all in good fun.
If you aren’t at all familiar with the Jamaican way of life,
they are candid to say the least! At
first I was really put off by this, but I now understand that they really
aren’t trying to be cruel, but rather honest.
They tell it like it is and don’t really expect a response or
explanation. The examples our trainers
gave is that if someone has one eye you call him “one-y”, or if he is missing a
foot he’s “stumpy” or “tumpy” in Patois.
They take no offense to this, so when I was called “fluffy and nice” and
the “Jamaican whitey” I followed suit by replying with a wave or a thanks. I’m hoping (in vain) that this is as explicit
the blunt Jamaican names get for me. The
good news is that for every time I’m called fat I’m called beautiful about 15
times. The two seem synonymous here, and
I got my first marriage proposal at the market on Saturday to prove it.
The cultural differences are too many to list here, but
suffice it to say I’m adjusting. A lot
about it is the same, thankfully. I
haven’t had to take too many bucket baths and the cold showers are generally
welcomed due to the heat. The food is
great, and I’m infinitely thankful for my former Jamaican housemate from New
York for bridging that gap a bit. I even tried turkey neck, which was
surprisingly like beef. They do eat all
meats with the bones in, ALWAYS. And
everything is doused with a hefty serving of sugar, being that it is one of the
major crops grown here. I haven’t been
eating many fruits and vegetables, despite the amount of the stuff they grow
here, because most Jamaicans eat 4 food groups with each meal: starch, starch,
meat, and sugar.
A handful of the volunteers at the beach
Speaking of crops grown here, I saw my first Rasta man
carrying basically an entire pot plant for sale on the beach last weekend. He was none too happy when all the whiteys
shooed him away without as much as a second thought. It is actually illegal in Jamaica, contrary
to popular belief, and of course just being illegal stateside is enough for
Peace Corps to ban it from our latitude for the next two plus years.
I should say a word about safety. The bad news is that Jamaica is rated, I
think, third in the world for murder.
The policeman who came to talk to our group had this theory that if
Jamaica’s population wasn’t so small they would rate much lower on this
scale. I think he was basing it on the
fact that 80% of the murders are gang related and if there were more non-gang
Jamaicans, by his thinking, then the number of murders per year would be the
same and the per capita % would go down.
I could argue that there would just be more gangsters, but I decided to
let this one go and not get involved in gang activity. For those of you
concerned with my safety after that rant, don’t worry. We’re in good hands. Ann, our Safety and Security Coordinator, was
voted the best in the world and our safety is paramount for Peace Corps. We’ve been getting tons of advice and
learning tricks to blend in and not get ripped off, not to mention we are
basically treated like children having to check in with several people if we go
anywhere other than our homes and to class.
We are still in the first leg of our training journey and are admittedly
residing in a small safe town, but it is a great place to get used to the kind
of things to come with a little bit of a stupid American buffer to help with
the learning curve.
On that note, I’ll leave you until next time. Inna di lates!
~B
