Labor day was a day of ‘house arrest’ for me as Barbara thought it best I stay indoors due to the ooman rain (on and off all day). My cough got a chance to completely recover by the evening when I accompanied the family to a party up the road in front of the CDC container (office).
I don’t believe I’ve written about Jamaicans and their parties but here’s the thing, Jamaicans LOVE to party. I mean as a culture of course, I don’t want to generalize but MAN can they party.
Here’s the general picture: People of all ages (literally, grandpa right down to grandson) gather in a yard, town square or any clear area. If the party has a reason (birthday, anniversary, etc) there will be a fire going with a huge pot to cook things like curry chicken or goat, rice and peas (beans), mannish water (soup containing all parts of a male goat)- perhaps breadfruit will be roasted in the open flame as well. For a party involving a purpose, rum is provided- the white, overproof kind, often mixed with Pepsi or ‘Ting’, a very sweet grapefruitish tasting soda. Sometimes parties are sponsored, like the labor day party I attended- so someone hires people to tend a bar, built especially for the occasion, and drinks are not free, same with food. Parties ALWAYS however, have a sound system blasting several genres of music depending on the time of night (usually moves from the old ska genre to reggae to dancehall around 11 or 12pm). The sound system is a Jamaican cultural tradition started around the time of liberation, communities or shops would build their own speakers and speakerboxes- every sound system has its own reputation etc. It is common to see the sound system speakers stored in street shops until it is time to set them up. I had the misfortune of living directly next to one such shop in Woodford, as a result on Friday nights my bedroom windows would shake with the bass until 4am.
Slight digression but also important to realize, since mingling at these parties can be tricky for a peace corps woman, while also rewarding. There comes a time in the night when being out just isn’t smart for a newbie with few friends. Around 12 or 1 the men are drunk and the women around you bending and winding make it easy for them to forget about your boundaries. I learned this one night in Woodford, the last week at site. Wednesday night was easy for me since my host family was with there with their two year old- it was however important to be seen with them, out in the community- and they introduced me to a few people too.
The next morning I woke up with a nasty stomach bug and couldn’t leave the house all day. I felt frustrated and miserable laying in my bed, hot and weak, knowing that my fellow PCV’s were making more connections this week than I was. That evening, having stabilized, Barbara came by with her sisters and a farmer named Ian to see how I was feeling. We lazily chatted and watched TV with the family, I lay comfortably on the floor, glad and flattered by the concern of my new friends. By Friday I had recovered but was still weak from not eating. I went to Savanna-La-Mar with Lesa to pick up some groceries, although the outing lasted much longer than I had anticipated, so 4 hours later we were on our way home. With a headache I showered, gladly letting the cold water soothe my hot body, changed and went back out for a small meeting at the CDC container to touch on upcoming and ongoing projects. It was my first meeting with an agenda in Beeston Spring and while I gave input on a few things, I was happy to just sit and listen…ie, try my hardest to follow fast chatting in patwa.
Saturday I woke up feeling good as new. I knew that the family and Barbara were preparing for a ‘Welcome to Beeston Spring’ party for me later in the evening, but they had made it clear they didn’t want me to know about it. I called home and had a wonderful chat with Olivia… you know, my baby sister who is growing up faster than I care to admit and far from a baby these days… and who I love super muchly. After that chat I helped Barbara make a huge pot of curry chicken outside in the yard… and then helped her pull a baby goat out of its mother. My host dad lives in the same yard as his father, who has a herd of about 6 Boer goats (meat goats).
I think I’m the only new PCV who had a welcome party thrown for me
There was curried chicken, rice, roasted breadfruit and even a cake! We gathered at the CDC container and the night started with a prayer (as always) and speeches from the people involved in my stay- Astille, Carlton, Ozzy, Barbara, Lesa, Michael, Ian and finally, me. Everyone had said words of welcome, they want me to feel safe and happy, some attempted to explain the Peace Corps and my role to the guests, some encouraged others to come and talk to me (a few plugged: ‘she’s outgoing and easy to talk to so don’t be afraid to!’). When my turn came I introduced myself, explained Peace Corps as an agency, my role in Beeston Spring and my background in agriculture/environment and finally told them that I just want to work for them and be one of them, so chat slow for me and let me know if I ever do something completely taboo (cue smile and laughter from others)- I hope we can all become friends and vibe together because that is all I really want. After this we shared dinner, the men began playing dominoes, the kids played monopoly and car blasted music from rooftop speakers. The boys on the football team respectfully chatted with me, I had a nice conversation with Ian about love, perched on the edge of Ozzy’s immense truck, and drank some rum with the domino players (Michael being one of them). The whole evening had me so thankful, and made me realize that my health is more important than trying to impress my community in the first week, as time is something I will have a lot of.
Today (I know, I know I’m still babbling), I went to Braes River in St. Elizabeth, an area that has the only agricultural high school in Jamaica. I was told we were going to an organic ag expo, but it turned out to be an opening celebration for park-like square-like gathering space, with some beautiful new produce stands, each named and decorated for a Jamaican plant. I attended the event with Barbara and four other members of the Bluefields Organic Farmers Group, as well as Kevin and Linnae (the PCVs for Bluefields farmers and fishermen). Bluefields has set itself apart with its agroprocessing interest- they have made (grown, cooked etc) and preserved sorrel jam and liquor, june plum jam and Jamaican Apple jam. Today they set up a table and sold a good amount of product. As with most Jamaican celebrations, there was music played and performed and other forms of entertainment. The heat was exhausting however we met a few nice people and found a shady place to watch and chat when the festivities began to feel long.
On the way TO St. Elizabeth however, I partook in an act of Praedial Larsony (thiefing another persons ag). As we drove down the road, a farmer called Duppy started chatting about mangos up ahead and Upton, another farmer and the marketing leader for the group, fervently agreed (the vague description of the conversation is because of the rapid nature of the chatting…I didn’t catch it all). The van pulled over and they darted out from the sliding door. Brian (president of the group) asked if I was gonna follow. “To tief some mangoes? Heck yes!” I exclaimed and jumped from my seat after the other two. Brian calmly followed in his rasta manner as I ran through a cow pasture to the mango tree Upton was shaking from atop its limbs. We gathered the fallen fruits and moved to the next tree, completely overfilling our scandal bag (black plastic shopping bag) with juicy, sweet and apparently rare Gryan mangoes. As we walked back to the van nyamming our prize Brian reminded me that, “we work together, but we play together just as often”. I think I’ll be making friends here just fine
I don’t believe I’ve written about Jamaicans and their parties but here’s the thing, Jamaicans LOVE to party. I mean as a culture of course, I don’t want to generalize but MAN can they party.
Here’s the general picture: People of all ages (literally, grandpa right down to grandson) gather in a yard, town square or any clear area. If the party has a reason (birthday, anniversary, etc) there will be a fire going with a huge pot to cook things like curry chicken or goat, rice and peas (beans), mannish water (soup containing all parts of a male goat)- perhaps breadfruit will be roasted in the open flame as well. For a party involving a purpose, rum is provided- the white, overproof kind, often mixed with Pepsi or ‘Ting’, a very sweet grapefruitish tasting soda. Sometimes parties are sponsored, like the labor day party I attended- so someone hires people to tend a bar, built especially for the occasion, and drinks are not free, same with food. Parties ALWAYS however, have a sound system blasting several genres of music depending on the time of night (usually moves from the old ska genre to reggae to dancehall around 11 or 12pm). The sound system is a Jamaican cultural tradition started around the time of liberation, communities or shops would build their own speakers and speakerboxes- every sound system has its own reputation etc. It is common to see the sound system speakers stored in street shops until it is time to set them up. I had the misfortune of living directly next to one such shop in Woodford, as a result on Friday nights my bedroom windows would shake with the bass until 4am.
Slight digression but also important to realize, since mingling at these parties can be tricky for a peace corps woman, while also rewarding. There comes a time in the night when being out just isn’t smart for a newbie with few friends. Around 12 or 1 the men are drunk and the women around you bending and winding make it easy for them to forget about your boundaries. I learned this one night in Woodford, the last week at site. Wednesday night was easy for me since my host family was with there with their two year old- it was however important to be seen with them, out in the community- and they introduced me to a few people too.
The next morning I woke up with a nasty stomach bug and couldn’t leave the house all day. I felt frustrated and miserable laying in my bed, hot and weak, knowing that my fellow PCV’s were making more connections this week than I was. That evening, having stabilized, Barbara came by with her sisters and a farmer named Ian to see how I was feeling. We lazily chatted and watched TV with the family, I lay comfortably on the floor, glad and flattered by the concern of my new friends. By Friday I had recovered but was still weak from not eating. I went to Savanna-La-Mar with Lesa to pick up some groceries, although the outing lasted much longer than I had anticipated, so 4 hours later we were on our way home. With a headache I showered, gladly letting the cold water soothe my hot body, changed and went back out for a small meeting at the CDC container to touch on upcoming and ongoing projects. It was my first meeting with an agenda in Beeston Spring and while I gave input on a few things, I was happy to just sit and listen…ie, try my hardest to follow fast chatting in patwa.
Saturday I woke up feeling good as new. I knew that the family and Barbara were preparing for a ‘Welcome to Beeston Spring’ party for me later in the evening, but they had made it clear they didn’t want me to know about it. I called home and had a wonderful chat with Olivia… you know, my baby sister who is growing up faster than I care to admit and far from a baby these days… and who I love super muchly. After that chat I helped Barbara make a huge pot of curry chicken outside in the yard… and then helped her pull a baby goat out of its mother. My host dad lives in the same yard as his father, who has a herd of about 6 Boer goats (meat goats).
I think I’m the only new PCV who had a welcome party thrown for me
There was curried chicken, rice, roasted breadfruit and even a cake! We gathered at the CDC container and the night started with a prayer (as always) and speeches from the people involved in my stay- Astille, Carlton, Ozzy, Barbara, Lesa, Michael, Ian and finally, me. Everyone had said words of welcome, they want me to feel safe and happy, some attempted to explain the Peace Corps and my role to the guests, some encouraged others to come and talk to me (a few plugged: ‘she’s outgoing and easy to talk to so don’t be afraid to!’). When my turn came I introduced myself, explained Peace Corps as an agency, my role in Beeston Spring and my background in agriculture/environment and finally told them that I just want to work for them and be one of them, so chat slow for me and let me know if I ever do something completely taboo (cue smile and laughter from others)- I hope we can all become friends and vibe together because that is all I really want. After this we shared dinner, the men began playing dominoes, the kids played monopoly and car blasted music from rooftop speakers. The boys on the football team respectfully chatted with me, I had a nice conversation with Ian about love, perched on the edge of Ozzy’s immense truck, and drank some rum with the domino players (Michael being one of them). The whole evening had me so thankful, and made me realize that my health is more important than trying to impress my community in the first week, as time is something I will have a lot of.Today (I know, I know I’m still babbling), I went to Braes River in St. Elizabeth, an area that has the only agricultural high school in Jamaica. I was told we were going to an organic ag expo, but it turned out to be an opening celebration for park-like square-like gathering space, with some beautiful new produce stands, each named and decorated for a Jamaican plant. I attended the event with Barbara and four other members of the Bluefields Organic Farmers Group, as well as Kevin and Linnae (the PCVs for Bluefields farmers and fishermen). Bluefields has set itself apart with its agroprocessing interest- they have made (grown, cooked etc) and preserved sorrel jam and liquor, june plum jam and Jamaican Apple jam. Today they set up a table and sold a good amount of product. As with most Jamaican celebrations, there was music played and performed and other forms of entertainment. The heat was exhausting however we met a few nice people and found a shady place to watch and chat when the festivities began to feel long.
The Bluefields Crew
Upton eating a jackfruit (I’m so sorry they don’t grow in the states- it’s delicious)
On the way TO St. Elizabeth however, I partook in an act of Praedial Larsony (thiefing another persons ag). As we drove down the road, a farmer called Duppy started chatting about mangos up ahead and Upton, another farmer and the marketing leader for the group, fervently agreed (the vague description of the conversation is because of the rapid nature of the chatting…I didn’t catch it all). The van pulled over and they darted out from the sliding door. Brian (president of the group) asked if I was gonna follow. “To tief some mangoes? Heck yes!” I exclaimed and jumped from my seat after the other two. Brian calmly followed in his rasta manner as I ran through a cow pasture to the mango tree Upton was shaking from atop its limbs. We gathered the fallen fruits and moved to the next tree, completely overfilling our scandal bag (black plastic shopping bag) with juicy, sweet and apparently rare Gryan mangoes. As we walked back to the van nyamming our prize Brian reminded me that, “we work together, but we play together just as often”. I think I’ll be making friends here just fine
Does that mean you stole someone's fruit?? Haha!
ReplyDeleteThat group president has a great name ;-)
ReplyDeleteSend me some jackfruit?