Mi go Pon de Road

Another busy week in Hellshire! It's hard to believe I'll be relocating on Wednesday. Two weeks has passed so quickly.

At the beginning of the week I watched Life and Debt, a documentary about the effects of globalization in Jamaica which suggests that the U.S. and IMF economic policies are fueling the fire of Jamaica's poverty. I highly recommend it to anyone who is visiting Jamaica. The film was released in 2003, but many of the problems still exist. While their outputs have declined, "free zones" (basically U.S. subsidized sweat shops) are still in existence. Many Jamaicans choose to drink the cheaper imported powdered milk supported by U.S. farm subsidies instead of fresh milk produced by Jamaican dairy farmers. In a televised debate this week, the minister of finance stressed the government's continuing desire to revive the Jamaican dairy industry. In general, Jamaicans rely heavily on imported goods. This is largely due to stipulations placed by the IMF to eliminate tariffs on imported goods and to charge farmers and entrepreneurs high interest rates.

I tried the Jamaican national dish: saltfish and ackee this week. Ackee is a Jamaican fruit which when cooked resembles scrambled eggs in both appearance and texture. It is usually served for breakfast. It was tasty and amazingly similar to eggs and very not eggs at the same time.


On Thursday Sandy had a get-together with some of the neighbors. We roasted fish, danced, and had an all around vibsy time (the opposite of fenky-fenky vibsy means lively, fun, and energetic). Chrissy dances with her friend Shawnaque while (from left to right) Miss June, Miss Pam, Bev, and Sandy watch. I was shockingly returned to my youth when all the young girls performed a self-choreographed dance to the latest hit single. All I could think was Whitney Houston and DiCocco family parties.


Good Friday and Easter Monday are holidays in Jamaica, and it seemed like everyone in the Kingston area took the opportunity to seek refuge from the steaming pavement at the Hellshire Beach. Several trainees and I took a walk up into the hills behind Hellshire park on Good Friday morning. Looking out from the hillside, the ocean was speckled with brown heads and voices from three different churches mixed together as they rose to meet us.


Saturday entailed a group visit with some of the host family members to the National Gallery of Jamaica which was decorated with Jamaican artwork such as Horsehead Masquerade by Osmond Watson.
Next, we wound our way to Fort Charles in Port Royal where we leared about the original Captain Morgan (Henry Morgan, buckaneer) and explored the Giddy House. An earthquake sunk half of the house into the ground resulting in a giddy experience if you attempt to walk around inside it. One of the host family fathers warned me not to enter, because he was convinced that a duppy caused the dizziness. So far I haven't had any negative side affects, unless you count an intense urge to dance to all Jamaican music.

I attended a Pentecostal Church service on Easter Sunday which was just as vibsy as our Thursday fish roast. I arrived late, left early, and still managed to stay for almost 3 hours. The first half of the service bubbled with ebulliant singing and dancing to a four piece band. Everyone was dressed to the nines, with most of the women wearing elaborate hats that would make my Nonnie jealous. in the midst We were joyfully greeted, prayed for, and welcomed. The pastor solemnly ended the last song and launched into a tirade against sin which, after an hour, ended in passionate persuasion for salvation. Quite different from the Catholic masses I grew up with, it seemed to fit the enthusiasm and joie de vivre I've witnessed on this island so far.