My dog has decided that the best place for her to poop is directly under my laundry line.
It’s Saturday which means that my day will consist of housework, laundry, blogging and hopefully napping, to explain the previous comment. Without the internet I have no outlet with which to declare the random thoughts that breeze into my mind in the form of Facebook Statuses (stati?), and in the solitude of these Saturday afternoons, that commentary often becomes a blog topic. Don’t worry I’m not about to go into any sort of detail about my dog’s feces.
Since I’ve moved, the dynamic of my daily routine has changed significantly. While daily life is certainly not difficult by Peace Corps standards, I find that much more of my time is spent cleaning- especially sweeping the vast tile floors in my oversized house. I spend a good deal of time considering going to the Spring for drinking water and then just boiling my own tank water instead, and I’ve been waging a war as epic as the Lord of the Rings Trilogy with various species of ants. The other night I entered my house to find the floor literally crawling with the big red ants that bite like fire. When the night gets cool or it is about to rain, these ants are notorious for coming into the house for shelter. Too bad for these guys I’d laid down a strategic and preemptive strike of ants powder, and most of them seized to death before causing much harm. See a picture of the aftermath below.
On a less violent note, being IN the community now has afforded me a new perspective on Beeston Spring that I’ve been greatly enjoying. I wish I had been here while doing my Participatory Analysis of the community (PC acronym # 1bajillion- PACA), I am seeing a much clearer community schedule, gender roles and relationships. Most importantly this American stranger is truly appreciating that this is more than a space of land where people live- this is a family. Now, many New Yorkers who have met Jamaican immigrants are often struck by the differences in family values between the two cultures. It’s not rare for a grandmother to raise a grandchild while the mother moves to Foreign, for aunts to raise nieces or nephews, cousins to raise cousins etc. This, to me, is beautiful (though perhaps might encourage teenage pregnancy- mothers often help raise their daughter’s children without question). What I’m talking about is an even broader idea of family.
Yes, a good majority of the people in this community are related by blood or marriage. But if you are an elder in Beeston Spring, you literally know everyone, and you know who they belong to. Even my boyfriend and his peers- in the 20-30 year age range, have watched every single one of my students at the primary school grow up (also because many of the students are their children, nieces and nephews). Likewise, many of my community partners in the 40-60 age range watched my boyfriend and his friends grow from infancy. So this creates a community of people who have all known each other for years or decades. It creates bonds as tight as family, and bad mind like only families can foster. Everyone knows who gets along with who, and if you’re a good person, you are rewarded with trust and food.
I come from a country where what you earn is sacred, and to ask someone for money is a bold move and I live in a place now where money is fluid and rare. If a community member needs J$1,000 for something important and a friend happens to have it in his pocket, it’s very often relinquished without question. Please keep in mind that in America, as individuals with bachelors degrees we can make about $10-12 an hour at a low tier job. That’s about J$1,000-1,200 - which a Jamaican will make in a day doing hard labour like laying foundation.
For a while this generosity baffled me, until it sunk in that people here are truly “bredren” (kind of like ‘brothers from another mother’). Wouldn’t you give your brother or sister the shirt off your back if they needed it? Wouldn’t you buy your best friend a meal if they were broke? “A so it go” in Beeston Spring, which is why bartering with food is a common practice. Evrick walked into my house with a yam bigger than my face yesterday- the day before it was a bag of ackie. Why? He passed a friend digging yam; he happened to hear a neighbor mention that her ackie tree is bearing. These people know he will pay them back in friendship, until he has something material that he can offer in return.
I am trying now, to not feel “a way” when someone close to me asks for money. My stingy culture frowns upon even asking a stranger for bus fare, but here I’m trying to not furrow my brow when a community member asks me for something reasonable. I am not giving handouts by any means and I don’t really give to anyone outside of my own yard, but the fact that I get a steady paycheck automatically makes me 100% more stable than most six person families in my community. I feel guilty about that. And I feel guilty about the pressure I feel to return home so that I can get a better education and make enough money to enjoy first world luxuries like traveling, car and pet ownership and internet.
When people ask me if I’m bringing Evrick back to Foreign, the response in my mind is always, “would he even like it there?”
Food for thought I suppose.
Anyway my steady paycheck afforded me the chance to go to Oracabesa last weekend for a Peace Corps event. I took some pretty great pictures:
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