Internal Narration

On days like today, when my only scheduled appointment is canceled and the day now seems a vast expanse of nothing to do, I look from my book, to my computer, to my disheveled mess of a room and resolve to put things in their proper place.

I am neither a slob nor a neat freak- as a high school science teacher once quipped, “nature tends towards entropy”. I am no exception, but when the mood arises, I prefer to do my cleaning in one fell swoop. And so, I gather the sweatiest of my clothes from the hamper and rinse them in the bath before letting them soak in a soapy 5 gallon bucket, doing the same with my less sweaty garb in another bucket.

To the tune of '”Ragged Wood” by the Fleet Foxes, I sweep my floor, gathering the golden strands of hair that shed from my head like a very long haired golden retriever. This is a common occurrence for the soft haired breed, and while we generally choose to be indifferent or ‘grossed out’, my counterparts in Jamaica find it wildly entertaining after the initial shock, and will grab the fistful of neglected hair from my hand and stroke it, twist it like twine or pretend to wear it like a wig.

I sweep around Larry, my resident lizard, and try to coax him towards the open window, but he takes an elegant swan dive from the wall to the floor and I leave him be. He is a useful creature in my insect populated room- my hope is that he’ll get big enough to eat the cockroaches who invade my personal space at 4am, when, as if in a dream, I find my hand grabbing at an exoskeleton and spiny legs and before I wake completely, instinctively fling the perpetrator away. I spent the half hour after that ensuring the monster was not still in my bed, and the 15 minutes after that wondering if I had not actually dreamed the whole affair entirely.

As I put new sheets on my bed, I think how much easier the process is without Lucy Goose jumping in and out of the billowing cloth and I suddenly crave that kind of distraction, when making a bed turned into a high energy game of chase or Taco Lucy (how long will it take her to untangle herself from the blankets??).

These activities took place with a running internal narration inside my head, which you have just read, while the Fleet Foxes continue to keep my mood light- so here I sit, on a freshly made bed, lavender incense burning and thinking, maybe now I’ll read my book.

Vacation etc

So Sincerely Sorry for that Span of Silence! (statement brought to you by my infatuation for alliteration )

This time lapse has been due to a need for internal introspection and a busy schedule. Also, I’ve had my nose stuck in a series of books in which the protagonist is a young woman in her mid 20’s who is 4ft 11in, less than 100 lbs and kicks a lot of ass… for some reason I find her character empowering, haha.

After a hectic month of high stress situations, I was only too glad to pack my backpack, hide my money on various locations against my body and hit the road for Montego Bay, where my parents were to meet me in the lobby of a resort hotel. Fresh from dropping their youngest baby girl off at college, they wasted no time transferring their pent up parental love directly into my arms. This love came in the form of the typical sort, hugs and kisses, but also in a gigantic bag of “home things”.

The first full day in the resort I spent feeling very guilty. Phrases like “Posh Corps” kept popping into my head and it was weird to be attended to by Jamaicans. I could wear strapless dresses and put on make-up… seriously? do I deserve this? I should be back in the bush sweating through my clothes!

That guilt lasted approximately 6 hours. I was able to extend my rare position to the volunteer in MoBay and we spent an evening catching up over dinner and the sunset. It was a strange juxtaposition of scenarios, Mom and Dad in Jamaica as I approach my 6 month point on Island. Not nearly the expert but certainly not a visitor. Taking them to my community was even stranger- I guided my father through the turns and potholes of the road through the hills from North to South Coast, I introduced them to the people I see on a daily basis and the fruits I’d come to love- breadfruit, jelly coconut, mango, sweet sop, ginep… We drove through my community, they sat on the porch of my office and I was given the amusing sight of my mother in the foreground and the empty ball field behind, where so many rowdy football games, events and parties g’wan routinely. I think if we’d come any other day but Sunday, they would have been overwhelmed, but most of the population was in church.

We went back to MoBay by way of the coast road, which took us through Negril. With Dad’s birthday dinner in mind, we avoided a crowded tourist hotspot famous for it’s sunset and ate at an adjacent restaurant that was quiet, secluded, served delicious food and had an equally awesome view of the sunset. Probably as perfect an evening there is. (see Mom’s album on FB for proof).

They drove me back home and I felt refreshed as I put my “new” things from home in their rightful place.

I’m looking at my place here a little differently, and I have to remind myself of these things when my gut starts tying into knots. I am the first volunteer in this community and so, I need to accept that my role here may not seem big and impressive. Some community members may not feel the difference I make, but if I can clear a path for the next volunteer then perhaps I can consider that a job well done, and if I do something that the community needs, even if it’s not directly related to my skill set (enviro/ag), I’ve done a service- and isn’t that the point?

My community needs a LOT of help, and I might be “likkle but talawah” but I aint superwoman.

Here are a few photos of things that happened in August- Preparing food for a Fun Day and a Farmer’s Workshop taught by NEPA.

Making Coconut Milk from Scratch: Shred coconut, blend with water, squeeze and filter, repeat.

 

		NEPA Workshop VIEW SLIDE SHOW DOWNLOAD ALL

…Only took 4 months and NEPA’s presence to turn all that lumber I’d dismantled into the compost bin I’d intended it to be…

In the Swamp

“Once upon a time there was traveler on horseback who found himself facing a swamp. He doesn't know whether to go around the swamp or try to wade through it.
He asks a local boy, "boy, does this swamp have a hard bottom?" and the boy says "yes it does".
So the traveler guides his horse into the swamp and promptly begins sinking into the muck deeper and deeper. He shouts to the boy "I thought you said it has a hard bottom!" to which the boy replies "It does sir, you're just not there yet!"”

Perceptions, challenges, ironic outcomes… This little anecdote just reminded me of Peace Corps Life.