So many likle observations that I can’t remember them all as of this writing but I’ll try recalling some. First, we are getting busier. The Wellness Program, modifications of the BU Fitness Center and Pitt’s old Cardiac Rehab Program, is taking off. In two weeks were doing a pilot run through. We expect to launch full bore on January 15 [only because we’ve been told normal life in JA ceases from the last week in November until 1/15 for Christmas]. If all goes as planned we will run the programs at Chapelton and May Pen Hospitals until they succeed or fail. If successful we will branch out to small and large businesses and provide the same services at the worksite. At that point we’ll begin training medical staff to conduct the Wellness Program.
The EKG training program will be off and running this week. It had an early glitch; the Parish CMO put a hold on it because she had understood Gary might be a CIA agent. Now get up off the floor; too much laughter might cause a stroke. Of all people confused for CIA, he’s the last on my list. As our host mother said, “….and why would the CIA even be interested in JA?”. Gary met with the CMO last Friday and all was straightened out.
We traveled this weekend to the poorest community on the island, Portland Cottage [such a charming name for the most beleaguered site I’ve seen], with 80% unemployment you may be able to imagine their plight. It’s the hot spot for drug and gun smuggling. It’s on the salt marshes of the Caribbean in the south of Clarendon Parish. As Gary said, it makes Chapelton look like Beverly Hills. We visited a fellow volunteer working for Food for the Poor. She took us to a beach in the region, not in the town, where I might take my Healthy Lifestyles Club members for a beach clean up and picnic.
Which leads me to the next effort. I’m teaching [advising] a group of twenty 12-15 year olds in the Healthy Lifestyle Club at Beulah All Age School [gr. 2-8, there are only upper school students in the club]. I have two co-teachers who are training to take over the class next year. Using games, skits, prizes, field trips and competitions they’ll learn about healthy lifestyles. Topics range from healthy snacks, food preparation and cooking to mental, environmental, and oral health, as well as HIV/AIDS, violence prevention, hygiene, and exercise.
After meeting with the elders of the community regarding the resurrection of the Citizens’ Association it was decided that 1.] a Senior Citizens Group should be formed right away [sort of a local AARP]; and 2.] Gary and I should meet with the leaders of the youth community and use the same techniques to fact find about their needs. Substantial numbers of youth [15-25] in Jamaica are under-educated and under-employed. The elders are concerned for the youths’ welfare and its affect on the community. Our Youth meeting will be tonight [Wed.] and the second elders’ group will be the next night. The Senior Citizens Group is ready to have its first meeting November 5.
We’re meeting with the director and staff of St. Augustine Boyz Home to discuss the kinds of workshops we might teach to staff and the boys. We just attended a Heroes Day Concert put on by them this morning [Heroes Day is like our Presidents’ Day but much more important to the populace]. These boys have been abandoned by their families. Some are disabled or disfigured internally and/or externally but most are adorable boys between 8 & 18. It broke my heart to think about their lives without any family at all. Some are starved for affection. One took hold of Gary and wouldn’t let go.
In the meantime Gary’s gotten motivated to see what he can do about the noise pollution problem. Loud reggae music pulsing 24/7 is the norm. The loud bases of giant sound systems is ubiquitous, whether in the country or city, and literally rattles windows and doors. Once all the above are rolling you may hear more about that effort. In the meantime we keep ear plugs with us at all times.
In all the preparation for these projects we’ve had to do considerable traveling to meet key people and fact-find. As you all know travel has been our bane in JA but it has been interesting to learn of and participate in a common Jamaican practice, ride sharing. In all sorts of situations and circumstances people share rides to save gas, get someplace, and/or transport something. It’s not uncommon for the Ministry of Health driver who is charged with getting us to a meeting in May Pen to have 2 or 3 others tagging along to be dropped off somewhere. In route we’ll stop at the roadside and pick up a package that needs to be dropped off on the way. All of this in a truck filled with equipment and supplies going or coming to somewhere else. No one ever just jumps in a car and drives alone to any place.
Finally, I’ll probably have more to say about this topic later as I watch and learn more about its effect; but only 30% of women with children are married. Sociologists and anthropologists don’t know if it’s the result of earlier African cultural practices or a remnant of slavery when marriage was impractical with families always being torn apart. Nonetheless, it’s interesting to know that so few individuals live with their parents; often they live with grandmothers or aunts. Women don’t seem to be bothered by this condition and large numbers of well-educated professional women choose to have a child out of wedlock. It appears they don’t want to have a thing to do with men [no, their not lesbians!!]. They prefer to have a child and a career without the father present. In the poor communities they may not have a career but they still want the children. This doesn’t suggest that men aren’t present in their children’s lives. In American I never saw so many young men carrying [no strollers, carriages, baby backpacks, etc] babies and/or walking along holding the hands of their young children. It seems to me that the males and females of this culture may not want to deal with the compromises necessary in marriage. What effect, if any, it has on children, I don’t know. What is clear is that there doesn’t appear to be any stigma attached to not having a father present in the home; it’s the norm.
Das al fi nou, Margaret
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Another Lesson
We spent Sunday at Font Hill Beach, 45 miles south of Negril, with a group of senior citizens from our community. It was our first trip to the southwest coast. The beaches were lovely, clean and quiet, except for the ever-ubiquitous reggae music. The water was warm and clear; the clouds as usual were gorgeous.
But,…….. the trip didn’t start out that well. It began as a lesson in cultures and communications between Americans and Jamaicans. We were to leave the house with our host mother via taxi at 7 AM to meet the group in a town forty five minutes north of Chapelton for the 8 AM departure; but our Jamaican taxi driver was an hour late. We started calling him at 7:10 but only got a message that his mailbox was full. He had over slept on his only day off, Sunday. Once finally on the road we called the organizer, Ionie, to let her know our status. Now Ionie is not your typical Jamaican. She spent 25 years in England and is quite western. She’s highly organized and expects everyone else to be so; her impatience with Jamaican ways is obvious. She said to me, “we are loading right now”. I asked if we should have our driver take us to a junction where we could meet the bus taking everyone; she said no. I then said we’ll try to catch the bus and asked what color it was. She said yellow and green.
Now, at that time we had understood we were headed two hours north to Ocho Rios and the junction we were headed to was right on the way; it didn’t seem very Jamaican not to be willing to wait for us but Ionie is western so we accepted it. We drove like lightning over the very worst roads in Jamaica and got to the meeting point in 35 minutes at 8:35. No one was in sight; so to no avail, we asked a few people if they had seen the green and yellow bus. All were adamant that no bus had gone by. We figured they hadn’t been paying that close attention and hadn’t noticed. We called Ionie’s phone at least eight times, to no avail. We figured the noise was too loud in the bus for her to hear the ring. After realizing we didn’t know where in Ochi they were headed, that now we couldn’t catch the bus, and the poor taxi driver realized he’d really messed up, our host mother decided she was up for an adventure and she was going to get one. At 8:45 we headed west into the hills for Moco and Smithville where she was reared. The roads weren’t bad but very narrow and winding.
At 9:30 we receive a call from Ionie asking where the heck we were and that they were waiting for us. We said we were in Thompson town, 45 minutes west of the bus, she asked how we got there!!!???; we said we were headed to Smithville. Now she was befuddled and asked to speak to the driver. She figured we just didn’t realize where we were. He confirmed the location and she confirmed they were waiting for us [its truly Jamaican not to leave anyone out]. We did a 180 degree turn and headed back, like lightning, over those ‘wonderful’ roads. It was clear the young driver was eager to do this because the thought of spending his day-off with three senior citizens in the bush really didn’t appeal to him.
When we finally arrived at the bus, it was white with a bit of blue and yellow trim and the riders had only been waiting about 45 minutes rather than the 1 ½ hours we thought. It turned out that the Jamaicans, even Ionie, are Jamaican all the way. When we originally reached the meeting spot we were actually the first ones there [so American!], even if it was an hour late. When we initially spoke to Ionie who said they were just loading up we didn’t understand that she was just getting into her own taxi at her home [unconcerned that she was an hour late] and she was guessing at the bus colors. As Jamaicans they would never leave us and said not to worry when it was obvious how terribly we felt about inconveniencing them so much.
Our story doesn’t end there. Once on the bus we realized we were headed west rather than northeast to Ochi. At first we figured there must be a short cut but then it became obvious, after an hour that the normal two hour trip to Ochi was going to be lengthy if we continued west. Finally, we asked where we were headed, and no one seemed to quite know but nonetheless happy for the company and adventure. After three hours [for us five hours] we landed at Font Hill. Only then did we understand the unspoken original message of Ionie’s refusal to meet us at a junction point to Ochi. It was truly a ‘Jamerican’ lesson in communication and unspoken meaning. From now on we’ll let Mrs. Rumble make the planning phone calls.
On a new front, my sister, Aimee, is working with a group of Southern California home school parents to collect workout shoes [sturdy, gently worn sneakers for men, women and children] for Jamaicans to use while exercising. Brian Goldenberg, a former BU student of mine is doing the same on the east coast under teh auspices of the Health Sciences Club. The rural Jamaican footwear situation is deplorable, primarily rubber flip flops or bare feet. Many are eager to walk or run with me but I can’t allow them to exercise on crumbling concrete and asphalt without adequate footwear because they will get injured. At the same time they can’t afford shoes that provide adequate support and shock absorption, even if they were available. So far I’ve seen one sports store in Kingston that looked as if it might have functional/effective training gear. If you’d like to help there are two ways: send washed/bleached slightly worn shoes with new laces; or a donation to help cover shipping costs [if the latter, make checks payable to either Aimee or Brian].
Contact information: Aimee Ibarra, 8739 Elizabeth Lake Rd., Leona Valley, CA 93551 or aimeeibarra@hotmail.com; or Brian Goldenberg: hsclub@bu.edu. If you can do anything at all it will help a Jamaican improve his/her health, fitness and resistance to the growing epidemic of chronic diseases.
Tanks an taik cyar, Margaret
But,…….. the trip didn’t start out that well. It began as a lesson in cultures and communications between Americans and Jamaicans. We were to leave the house with our host mother via taxi at 7 AM to meet the group in a town forty five minutes north of Chapelton for the 8 AM departure; but our Jamaican taxi driver was an hour late. We started calling him at 7:10 but only got a message that his mailbox was full. He had over slept on his only day off, Sunday. Once finally on the road we called the organizer, Ionie, to let her know our status. Now Ionie is not your typical Jamaican. She spent 25 years in England and is quite western. She’s highly organized and expects everyone else to be so; her impatience with Jamaican ways is obvious. She said to me, “we are loading right now”. I asked if we should have our driver take us to a junction where we could meet the bus taking everyone; she said no. I then said we’ll try to catch the bus and asked what color it was. She said yellow and green.
Now, at that time we had understood we were headed two hours north to Ocho Rios and the junction we were headed to was right on the way; it didn’t seem very Jamaican not to be willing to wait for us but Ionie is western so we accepted it. We drove like lightning over the very worst roads in Jamaica and got to the meeting point in 35 minutes at 8:35. No one was in sight; so to no avail, we asked a few people if they had seen the green and yellow bus. All were adamant that no bus had gone by. We figured they hadn’t been paying that close attention and hadn’t noticed. We called Ionie’s phone at least eight times, to no avail. We figured the noise was too loud in the bus for her to hear the ring. After realizing we didn’t know where in Ochi they were headed, that now we couldn’t catch the bus, and the poor taxi driver realized he’d really messed up, our host mother decided she was up for an adventure and she was going to get one. At 8:45 we headed west into the hills for Moco and Smithville where she was reared. The roads weren’t bad but very narrow and winding.
At 9:30 we receive a call from Ionie asking where the heck we were and that they were waiting for us. We said we were in Thompson town, 45 minutes west of the bus, she asked how we got there!!!???; we said we were headed to Smithville. Now she was befuddled and asked to speak to the driver. She figured we just didn’t realize where we were. He confirmed the location and she confirmed they were waiting for us [its truly Jamaican not to leave anyone out]. We did a 180 degree turn and headed back, like lightning, over those ‘wonderful’ roads. It was clear the young driver was eager to do this because the thought of spending his day-off with three senior citizens in the bush really didn’t appeal to him.
When we finally arrived at the bus, it was white with a bit of blue and yellow trim and the riders had only been waiting about 45 minutes rather than the 1 ½ hours we thought. It turned out that the Jamaicans, even Ionie, are Jamaican all the way. When we originally reached the meeting spot we were actually the first ones there [so American!], even if it was an hour late. When we initially spoke to Ionie who said they were just loading up we didn’t understand that she was just getting into her own taxi at her home [unconcerned that she was an hour late] and she was guessing at the bus colors. As Jamaicans they would never leave us and said not to worry when it was obvious how terribly we felt about inconveniencing them so much.
Our story doesn’t end there. Once on the bus we realized we were headed west rather than northeast to Ochi. At first we figured there must be a short cut but then it became obvious, after an hour that the normal two hour trip to Ochi was going to be lengthy if we continued west. Finally, we asked where we were headed, and no one seemed to quite know but nonetheless happy for the company and adventure. After three hours [for us five hours] we landed at Font Hill. Only then did we understand the unspoken original message of Ionie’s refusal to meet us at a junction point to Ochi. It was truly a ‘Jamerican’ lesson in communication and unspoken meaning. From now on we’ll let Mrs. Rumble make the planning phone calls.
On a new front, my sister, Aimee, is working with a group of Southern California home school parents to collect workout shoes [sturdy, gently worn sneakers for men, women and children] for Jamaicans to use while exercising. Brian Goldenberg, a former BU student of mine is doing the same on the east coast under teh auspices of the Health Sciences Club. The rural Jamaican footwear situation is deplorable, primarily rubber flip flops or bare feet. Many are eager to walk or run with me but I can’t allow them to exercise on crumbling concrete and asphalt without adequate footwear because they will get injured. At the same time they can’t afford shoes that provide adequate support and shock absorption, even if they were available. So far I’ve seen one sports store in Kingston that looked as if it might have functional/effective training gear. If you’d like to help there are two ways: send washed/bleached slightly worn shoes with new laces; or a donation to help cover shipping costs [if the latter, make checks payable to either Aimee or Brian].
Contact information: Aimee Ibarra, 8739 Elizabeth Lake Rd., Leona Valley, CA 93551 or aimeeibarra@hotmail.com; or Brian Goldenberg: hsclub@bu.edu. If you can do anything at all it will help a Jamaican improve his/her health, fitness and resistance to the growing epidemic of chronic diseases.
Tanks an taik cyar, Margaret
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
More thoughts on Jamaica and the US
Here are two observations, one about Jamaica, the other about us, as in US. As I’ve said earlier, Jamaica is a nation between two worlds, developing and developed. As such the citizens probably aren’t much different than we were in 1776, many believing in the mother country, Britain or the Western, model. For example, the majority of Jamaicans prefer the protocol of Mr., Mrs. or Miss. The closest of friends refer to each other in that way. Some how it seems incongruous and pretentious here in the bush but it may make them feel as if they are staying abreast of British ways by keeping them alive. Yet, their very oldest ways, African resourcefulness, may be of greater benefit to them. Few are proud of being able to walk miles in a day or creatively conserve; actions our planet dearly needs. They see those actions as embarrassing and demeaning, albeit necessary. If I correctly recall my American History, Britain regarded US as ruffian, archaic illiterates for nearly 200 years. Our language, values, culture [or lack of], etc. were derided.
Jamaican’s are in a similar transition phase as we were 200 years ago, many of them not quite sure of who they are or should be and not appreciating the benefits of their native culture. We had our first Citizens’ Association meeting last week [one of the missions of our tenure is to help resurrect the non-operational organization] and after leading a long discussion on the things they both like and want changed in the community several asked what we thought of Chapelton. They were amazed that anyone from America liked it and could find value in their lives. I continue to tell Jamaicans that being American or British is not the panacea for life’s ills. I suppose when literally half the population is an expatriate with some money in his/her pocket it may be difficult to accept that premise.
The saddest aspect of their transition to the developed world is their state of health. Like US they are getting fatter and have more chronic disease. As the ‘developing nation’ conditions like dengue, gastroenteritis, diarrhea, malnutrition, leptospirosis, etc. are on the wane due to improved Western [got to give credit where it’s due] health care; those chronic diseases of the Western lifestyle are alarmingly on the rise. Many of my health presentations point out that one way to stave off these conditions is to preserve valuable aspects of their historical culture and ways; total westernization will lead to suffering of a different kind. Some times I feel as if the west is like the invading Spaniards of the 15th Century who brought infectious disease and death to the natives in this hemisphere. Finding and trusting that path is a mountain few have yet to even consider scaling. For many I may as well be suggesting we blow up the world; it’s impossible and exceedingly undesirable!
As for the US observation I alluded to, if you haven’t already seen it, please consider taking time to watch Bill Moyers’ discussion with our former colleague at Boston University, Andrew Bacevich [http://www.pbs.org/moyers/journal/09262008/watch.html]. Our son, John forwarded it to us and we think it’s quite informative on many levels and issues regarding our current state of affairs in the US and the world.
Sunday we’re headed to Ochi [Ocho Rios] on the north shore for a day at the beach with 40 Jamaicans. This 60 mile trip should only take two hours and two transport transfers because we’re chartering a bus for part of the way. We’re eager to see how they enjoy and use the beach. Among other things, we’ll be roasting a goat.
If you can believe it, we’re yearning for those cool crisp New England days. At times all this sun and great weather is more than we can handle.
Finally, if you’ve noticed we haven’t posted many new photos recently [Sorry about that, Chris]. There are limits to how many vistas of green mountains and clouds you all want to see; and it’s getting difficult to take any with Jamaicans in them. They either don’t want their pictures taken or they want to be paid for allowing the photo to be taken. Do notice we were able to get a great one of a Brahma cow right outside our bathroom window.
Laita, Margaret
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