Happiness Loves Company Too

My community is a truly pleasant place to be most mornings. It’s cool and breezy and people are fresh and greeting each other. The Jamaican greeting is very important. You may not get a please or thank you but you will always get a “good morning” or a “wa gwaan”, or an “arright” (alright) with a nod in passing. Acknowledging people’s presence is of utmost importance here and following that guideline is a good way to make friends.

On one of these mornings last week I left the gate happily chatting with Evrick and we came upon a neighbor brushing her teeth outside. We greeted her in the usual way and she sang back “good morning”

However.

Without skipping a beat her tone changed to a harsh, angry shout “Bwoi! TOP ‘crape ee bed afore me ‘tab yuh inna yuh yie wi de toot brush!”

I was caught by surprise as we continued to walk through this outburst. Was she talking to Evrick? someone inside? I looked at Evrick who was shaking his head and asked, “who’s eyes are she stabbing out with a toothbrush?” He pointed out that her son had been moving something inside and it was making noise. I hadn’t heard this but, ok, she’s telling her son to stop moving the bed or she’ll stab him in the eye with a toothbrush. Reasonable.

This is not an isolated incident or an uncommon one and it probably has a lot to do with the combination of rural poverty, overexposure to violence in the media and a combative cultural history. Over the last week, I allowed myself to become very bothered by the words spoken around me. After my last week of camp, hearing children repeat the words their parents use on them to their peers, my heart was hurting. In my enthusiastic and positive America Bubble, I was taught that strong words have meaning, and to use them gently. Strong words spoken with force are things to flinch at, not say to your children, but it gets said and it perpetuates a culture of zero personal efficacy or empowerment. It’s normal to ask a child to read something and hear several children chime in “miss im cyaan read” (miss he can’t read) or to hear in conversation “Cho man ya idiat?” (whatever man, are you an idiot?), but sadder still is the prevalence of statements such as “Shuttup, mi a go beat yuh…”, or “yuh nuh good fi nutten” or “mi a go ‘tab yuh inna yuh mout…” and even “Mi a go kill yuh…”. Many children I’ve spoken to acknowledge that they don’t like being spoken to that way, but a child berated by an adult is going to retaliate on their peers in the only way they’ve been taught, with violence and angry words. Misery certainly loves company.

Many families here are not so angry and violent, however, anger tends to be louder than peace… go figure.

As I tried to write tactfully about the observations I was making several times, without being judgmental and emotional, and failed miserably. So I decided to pause for inspiration. This came in the form of an Organic Agriculture workshop at the Belmont Fishing Beach.

It was the first farming workshop that I had the pleasure of enjoying with Evrick, and I knew almost every participant in the workshop personally. These gatherings are always an opportunity to be surrounded by completely likeminded people, rejuvenating the spirit and exercising the mind. The workshop was focused on marketing as small organic farmers, and it took place in a large open gazeebo shaded by trees and 20 feet from the ocean. The breeze was constant even though the sun was hot and a hard rush of rain cooled the place down towards the end. For the first time in a while I was hearing new information at a local farming workshop, people were asking questions and knowledge was being shared. I was glad to see my community farmers interest and participation and impressed by their positivity.

My group rode back up the hill sitting along the sides of a pickup truck, laughing and joking as the vehicle hit every pothole and ascended sharply steep hillsides.

I returned home with an inspired Evrick and we continued talking about the possibilities for what we had learned taking place in Jamaica. Sitting on the veranda with him I felt that familiar glow of happiness in my soul and knew that I could write once again.

So I suppose I now understand why it took me a while to write this post. I can’t be accepting of difficult behaviors until I can understand the behavior and not let it overwhelm me. Also, I can’t feel satisfied with a blog unless it has a happy ending, which I suppose means that as long as I blog, I’ll be searching for happy endings. So if I ever stop and get real miserable, remind me to start again my friends.

Finally, here is my conclusion: Yes, misery will always love company, but happiness loves company too, it’s just not as demanding about it.

Cycles and Second Chances

The life of a Peace Corps Volunteer is highly cyclic in a myriad of ways. There is a great fluctuation of emotional stability across a range of time, work related cycles involving times of great success followed by by times of infinite boredom; times of prosperity and times of poverty. Yes, all life is cyclic, but a PCV sees and anticipates this cycle in a very concentrated span of 2 (or 3) years. Thinking back, year one is all about testing the waters, year two is about taking the dive. For a volunteer who is the first in a community must see the cycle beyond two years, for her own sanity. Being the first volunteer is like being the first daughter in the family: it’s a lot of bushwhacking, and lot of trial and error. You’re not sure what to do with yourself and your community isn’t sure about your purpose either. The first volunteer must draw boundaries, invite possibilities and trust that the next volunteer can take over from there. Not to say I’m not “making progress” here, being in year two makes it easy to compare mistakes and improve the cycle.

About 11 months ago this year, I was a new volunteer still only 4 months on Island and I volunteered to plan a children’s summer program that the CDC always runs for a few weeks. I hardly knew anyone and they hardly knew me. The entire thing was a chaotic tug of war between multiple parties and was a stressful introduction into Jamaican event planning.

This year, I prepared as well as I could, left for Clarendon to work at the Denbigh Agriculture Show with a bunch of AWESOME people and came back ready for week one of CDC program, Eco Program. The theme of day 1 was, “Respect yourself, respect the environment” day 2 was “Reduce, Reuse, Recycle”, 3 was “Trees” 4 was “Games Day” and 5 was a Nature Walk. We has a few very rainy days, but we managed to balance every day with physical activity and learning, and the presence of my dear friend Autumn made everything go much smoother. The kids surprised me with their enthusiasm, especially doing leaf rubbings and watching Planet Earth. Autumn and I had a blast teaching students kickball and The Migration Game, and we only had one major fight for the entire week!

The last day was the one I was most apprehensive about. During planning meetings we had discussed taking the kids for a walk in the bush and roasting Breadfruit for lunch. I left the logistics up to some committee members, outlining what we would need for the day. Once my weeks started though, I hardly checked in on the progress so I was relieved when the day ended not only incident free, but as one of the fondest memories I will have of my community.

The plan was to hike behind Left Hall, the biggest, and highest, district in Beeston Spring, beyond which is farmland with a breathtaking view of the coast. At 700 ft above sea level, there is a cooling breeze almost the entire way. We drove the bus to where the road ends and led our ducklings in a row, along the footpath that serves a good number of farmers on a daily basis. We paused to admire the view, talk about a plant or just drink some water and the children were so engrossed in their surroundings that the familiar negativity of their interactions was relaxingly absent. About an hour into the hike, we came upon a bare hilltop dispersed with several rock walls and the children begged to run up it. On my approval they set off as a mass, spiritedly climbing the emerald hillside. We had a stretch session at the top of the mountain and a long rest.

silly face!

The walk back was relatively uneventful and we were met with a Breadfruit fire on our arrival. Some kids played cards on the blankets in the shade, others wandered around, playing on dead trees and looking at birds. With 5 small Breadfruit, a can of beans and a can of corn, we fed 20 children while the 6 adults enjoyed an added bulla and pear. Rain began to fall as the kids began to finish their plates, the place was swiftly packed and we rolled back down the hill, the happy kind of tired.

This week would not have gone as well if I hadn’t experienced last years debacle. This year I knew to place a high value on good behavior, have everything prepared well beforehand, how to utilize my community members and what should be expected from Jamaican children. Sometimes the cycle is tiresome and daunting, and stability seems far away, but if not for the cycle, I would not have gotten a second chance to have such a successful week. Here’s hoping next week is just as great!

Denbigh Ag Show

Every year Jamaica has an Agriculture Show in Denbigh, Clarendon. It is a huge fair that lasts for 4 days and showcases livestock, ag companies and the various government and NGO related to agriculture and the environment. Most notably my time there was quality time spent with quality people. The Peace Corps participated by holding the “Kids Corner” of the Jamaica Organic Agriculture Green Village for three days (I was gone 4 1/2). My table involved a poem of a banana named Barry becoming compost. We made a poster out of cut out paper, sticks, leaves and dirt and the pieces of the poems had to match with the picture.

Some community members even got to spend the day!

For those who don’t know ^> this is Evrick

As exhausting as that long weekend was, it was rejuvenating. I met a number of new fellow PCV’s, and their energy and insights centered me. As an almost complete group, we were invited to stay at the home of the Custos, the Queen’s representative for the Parish of Clarendon. Every day I would leave the Denbigh grounds caked in sweat, dust and smoke and end up in a beautiful home with a hot shower, delicious food and wonderful company. A huge shoutout to the Shagoury’s for their unbelievable hospitality and Marie for coordinating it all and sharing her paradise with us.