It is amazing how much happens in a week around here, let alone two. I put off writing because I can’t possibly write an adequate account of everything, and then everything becomes more things and before I know it I’m writing a novel. Thank god for pictures though, 1,000 words for one picture sounds about right.
Lesa had family visit two weekends ago (June 9), we went to Negril to go to the beach. It was overcast and we got there later in the day, but I had a few beers and swam in the ocean, bonded with my host family and had my first experience of being a white non-tourist in a tourist area- it’s a unique and puzzling experience I can assure you.
The next few days involved meetings and work days to prepare for the big event on Thursday, the contract signing between JSIF (jamaica social investment fund), REDI (Rural Economic Development Initiative) and Community Tourism partners to start tourism training in rural communities across the Island. On Wednesday, Barbara and I went to a farm so that I could see it, meet the farmer and so that we could get some produce for the event. The farm is cared for by a rasta called Fiero and it took us almost 3 hours to get there. We were dropped off at Cottage, a district (road) off the main road. I’d taken a taxi up this district before and it is essentially a road lazily curving up a mountain side. At one point the road no longer even pretends to be paved and a normal 4 door can’t go any further. I thought, we must be almost there, and an hour and a half later was still wrong. At some point Cottage becomes Left Hall (pronounced ‘lef-all’), and the houses are so remote, I begin to understand the true economic situation of Beeston Spring. The view, however, is amazing. From the bush around Left Hall, one can see the Sandals Resort, east to Whitehouse (6 miles away), and then west almost to Sav-la-Mar. The ocean meets the horizon and the shoreline seems immaculate, shades of blue indicating kelp forests, shallow and deep areas and foamy waves. This view, from a field on top of a mountain with a cow in the immediate vicinity is surreal and overwhelmingly beautiful. I let the breeze cool my neck, closing my eyes and smiling. I told Barbara that if she ever lost me, I’d probably be here, in my hammock.
Fiero has shelters at his farm to house his harvest and himself when it rains- this barrel catches rain water so he has it during the day/ for his plants. His wife comes up with him and makes him lunch over an open flame, and also helps him farm, they as well as their daughter are rasta, though their daughter lives much closer to the main road. The only way for Fiero to carry his harvest to market is by donkey, or by foot.
A beautiful example of intercropping- yam, scallion, thyme, lemongrass, peas and more.
Yam grows a spiky vine, the tuber grows huge and tough, even after it’s boiled it is starchy and denser than a potato.
Cho-cho is a vine, but the fruit grows from it instead of underground. Relatively tasteless but has a pleasant texture- nice in soups.
The next day was the event. Having been up late the night before in preparation, the CDC members truly rallied to decorate and organize all morning, not leaving to change until the ceremony was set to begin (but of course Jamaica time delayed it). I was truly impressed by the decorations, even though I was helping to make them. After we came back from bathing, I decided to attend the ceremony instead of stay outside waiting for the guests to come out. I entered late of course, and an usher sat me in the front seat- I had to pass all of the officials, guests and the football team on my way there. oy. My friend Poochie was a community representative, and was sitting in the choir chairs facing the audience (the event was held in the church)- we shared a lot of silent looks and giggles throughout the ceremony. Of course the minute the ceremony ended the rain began. It was on and off for the rest of the afternoon, but the tents were set up so that the event was not hindered at all. I enthusiastically wandered around the reception, meeting officials and schmoosing with the locals- kicking ass and taking names almost literally. It was quite enjoyable and I think I made an impression on a lot of people.
Lesa had family visit two weekends ago (June 9), we went to Negril to go to the beach. It was overcast and we got there later in the day, but I had a few beers and swam in the ocean, bonded with my host family and had my first experience of being a white non-tourist in a tourist area- it’s a unique and puzzling experience I can assure you.
The next few days involved meetings and work days to prepare for the big event on Thursday, the contract signing between JSIF (jamaica social investment fund), REDI (Rural Economic Development Initiative) and Community Tourism partners to start tourism training in rural communities across the Island. On Wednesday, Barbara and I went to a farm so that I could see it, meet the farmer and so that we could get some produce for the event. The farm is cared for by a rasta called Fiero and it took us almost 3 hours to get there. We were dropped off at Cottage, a district (road) off the main road. I’d taken a taxi up this district before and it is essentially a road lazily curving up a mountain side. At one point the road no longer even pretends to be paved and a normal 4 door can’t go any further. I thought, we must be almost there, and an hour and a half later was still wrong. At some point Cottage becomes Left Hall (pronounced ‘lef-all’), and the houses are so remote, I begin to understand the true economic situation of Beeston Spring. The view, however, is amazing. From the bush around Left Hall, one can see the Sandals Resort, east to Whitehouse (6 miles away), and then west almost to Sav-la-Mar. The ocean meets the horizon and the shoreline seems immaculate, shades of blue indicating kelp forests, shallow and deep areas and foamy waves. This view, from a field on top of a mountain with a cow in the immediate vicinity is surreal and overwhelmingly beautiful. I let the breeze cool my neck, closing my eyes and smiling. I told Barbara that if she ever lost me, I’d probably be here, in my hammock.
(co-co, a root plant, not the chocolate)
Fiero has shelters at his farm to house his harvest and himself when it rains- this barrel catches rain water so he has it during the day/ for his plants. His wife comes up with him and makes him lunch over an open flame, and also helps him farm, they as well as their daughter are rasta, though their daughter lives much closer to the main road. The only way for Fiero to carry his harvest to market is by donkey, or by foot.
A beautiful example of intercropping- yam, scallion, thyme, lemongrass, peas and more.
Yam grows a spiky vine, the tuber grows huge and tough, even after it’s boiled it is starchy and denser than a potato.
Red peas growing under mango trees
Gungu peas grow on a tree
Looking inland
View from the top of Fiero’s farm, looking outland
Cho-cho is a vine, but the fruit grows from it instead of underground. Relatively tasteless but has a pleasant texture- nice in soups.The next day was the event. Having been up late the night before in preparation, the CDC members truly rallied to decorate and organize all morning, not leaving to change until the ceremony was set to begin (but of course Jamaica time delayed it). I was truly impressed by the decorations, even though I was helping to make them. After we came back from bathing, I decided to attend the ceremony instead of stay outside waiting for the guests to come out. I entered late of course, and an usher sat me in the front seat- I had to pass all of the officials, guests and the football team on my way there. oy. My friend Poochie was a community representative, and was sitting in the choir chairs facing the audience (the event was held in the church)- we shared a lot of silent looks and giggles throughout the ceremony. Of course the minute the ceremony ended the rain began. It was on and off for the rest of the afternoon, but the tents were set up so that the event was not hindered at all. I enthusiastically wandered around the reception, meeting officials and schmoosing with the locals- kicking ass and taking names almost literally. It was quite enjoyable and I think I made an impression on a lot of people.
I didn’t have the camera for all of this, Shamere took over for me.
Anyway, the next day proved to be NOT a day of rest for me, as I ran around sending emails and grocery shopping. I’ve since discovered that Beeston Spring requested TWO volunteers, so now the tug-o-war over my time at least makes sense. I’m trying very hard to be effective without exhausting myself, it is a precarious balancing act that doesn’t always equal out- some days I focus so hard on the balance that I don’t get home for dinner until after 9pm. I want to farm, and help the CDC (which is the most time consuming at the moment), I want to walk around town and socialize with people during their free time and I want a project to call my own. So far I’ve done all of that this week, I balanced some invoices, wrote some letters on behalf of the CDC, held an after school study session for the primary schoolers and weeded in the demonstration plot. It feels particularly good to be in the garden again, and I can’t help but miss Sprout Creek Farm as my now soft fingers get butchered by rough weeds and thorns. I can’t wait for them to toughen up and for my back to be strong enough to handle the hours bent over. I’m about to revisit some yoga on the beach this weekend. For someone who doesn’t much love the beach, I’ve been escaping to it every weekend for some relative solitude and relaxation with the local PCV’s.
Anyway, I love and miss you all- I think of home a lot and wonder what I’d be doing if I were home: drinking an iced chai? hiking and camping with the pup? still dairy farming and teaching? having a whiskey at Billy Bob’s? drive in movies? ahhhh summer in the Valley. enjoy it for me my loves, and until next time, walk good <3
