The last chapter

We’re on our way home within a week. What a ride it’s been: satisfactions; frustrations; lessons learned; friends made; observations and experiences anew; raging heat and humidity; sweat soaked clothes; pouring rain; mangoes; gorgeous clouds; bammy; litter; a four month drought; dogs and livestock roaming the streets; ackee and salt fish; miles walked each day (literally and figuratively); grateful people; callaloo; reggae and gospel music all day long; a lock down for all PCV’s; appreciation; and the realization that much more needs to be done.

Gary returned eleven days ago after three long months of separation. He went right to work helping me finish-up the closing and completion of our many projects. It has been made so clear to us that even people we don’t ever recall meeting greatly appreciated our returns. Those actions reassured so many that they were important and worthy enough for us to feel the need to return. In the first few days after Gary’s arrival, the walk to town was long and slow; everyone, including people he’d never met, stopped to welcome him back.

Our original plan was to finish the projects, take four days to visit a part of the island we hadn’t seen, head to MoBay for our host mother’s birthday party and then spend three days in Negril for the Close of Service Conference where we would see all our fellow volunteers who arrived and trained with us. None of that happened.

If you’ve followed any of the recent happenings regarding the extradition of Dudus, a West Kingston Don, you know about the violence and death that has occurred in Kingston. The Peace Corps has to be very conservative about our safety and security in those situations. None of the PCVs were at risk in their respective sites; the problems were travel beyond the sites and the prospect of violence spreading. In order to ensure our well being we were required to stand fast [not leave our communities] for a week; the PC had to be prepared to evacuate us immediately if the turmoil became widespread. Of course that week fell at the outset of our final adventures. And then, the drought ended with a rush; heavy, heavy rains, and thunderstorms; so much so that we’ve been not only confined to our town but essentially locked down in our house. We’re calling it the Chapelton Chalet and pretending we’re at a spa.

So, here we are with nothing to do and no place we can go. As the say in Jamaica, no problem, mon. You just have to roll with the punches, there’s no fighting the forces in Jamaica, whether they are man made or naturally driven.

Some of the nicest things about our last days have been the appreciation extended individually and collectively. Appreciation ceremonies are a tradition in Jamaican culture. A gentleman, who recently died, was given one a few months ago. Their premise is to say thank you before you die [or in our case leave]. They turn them into big events to celebrate the honoree. We’ve had two so far. They are touching, surprising and heart warming. Gary’s had a tough time maintaining his composure. We’ve been given so many memorabilia items that Gary suggested to one audience that we will start a Jamaica room in our new house.

If you ever want something to do that gives you a new perspective while challenging your mind, body and soul think about the United States Peace Corps as an option

After we get home we’ll move into a small home we bought in East Chatham, NY [western foothills of the Berkshire Mountains] and get started on the next stage. We hope to pursue the construction of a family compound in Canaan, NY, about 20 minutes away. Margaret's also going to see about getting a part-time job as a Peace Corps recruiter serving the colleges in the area, or to work as a Healthy Lifestyles Consultant at Canyon Ranch, a health spa in the Berkshire Mountains. Gary’s going to hunt, fish, and play golf.

Jamaicans never say good-bye, it’s too permanent. The only say lata.

Lata,
Margaret & Gary

THE END