Merry Christmas, Happy New Year!

This Christmas was my first Christmas away from home. ::tear:: I won't lie. At first, it was terrible and lonely. I got back from a hiking trip on Christmas Eve to find that everyone in the house had gone to town to do last minute Christmas shopping. I made myself pancakes for dinner and went to sleep at 8. When you go Christmas shopping in Jamaica you don't focus on buying presents for other people. You shop for new sheets, curtains, and paint. Why? Because the Christmas tradition in Jamaica is similar to the spring cleaning tradition in America. I awoke at around 5 AM to the sound of a couch being used as a battering ram against my door. (Not a problem because I had gone to bed so early the night before). Time to empty out the room, mop the floor, and wash the walls. Six hours later we went on a tour of each others rooms OOoing and Ahhing over the new made-in-china sheets and curtain sets. Also, every room got a new set of lacy doilys which matched the curtains and sheet sets for the top of the bureaus. If you see a home decoration that has "old woman's home" written all over it you can be assured that its the apogee of Jamaican interior decorating style. For our community's womens' group gift exchange I made sure to get a faceted pitcher set that my great grandmother would love. Yes, I was upset that instead of spending Christmas morning opening presents I spent it scrubbing the floor. However, the morning of hard work was soon rewarded with Christmas fruit cake, (Much better than American fruit cake: its moist.) sorrel, (a purple drink made from this and ginger) and Christmas wine (always administered with the precaution "Mind yuh drunk yuh know."). The afternoon was spent visiting neighbors, relatives and friends and begging the three aforementioned Christmas delicacies. By evening, you could tell that some of our visitors had visited most of the 116 households in the district.



After Christmas dinner (gungo peas and rice, fried chicken, and salad) I joined some of my community members in the shop out front for a Christmas drink of Dragon Stout, Supligen, and white overproof rum all mixed together. It tastes better than it sounds. We put on "holdies" or old time reggae and started dancing, which, as people who know me know is one of my favorite pastimes. One of my best friends in my community, Fitzroy (farmer, red cross volunteer, genuinely nice person) convinced me to go to a party, which I normally avoid due to incessant sexual harassment, saying he would be my protector. He stayed true to his word and we danced until morning. We visited with friends, watched a machete fight caused by two drunken youths stoning a woman's house, and had a genuinely good time.



The next day was the Christmas tree lighting hosted by the chruch. A Jamaican Christmas tree lighting is basically like a talent show to raise funds for the church. The hostess calls random audience members names. If she calls yours you must sing a song. If you can't sing, you dance. If you can't dance, you pay money. As I entered the church one of my friends warned me, "You know they're going to call your name tonight. You better think about what you are going to sing." He was right. As I walked up to the front of the church, I reached my hand into my pocket to pull out the cash I had stored there after hearning the warning. However, once I got up there I had a sudden burst of courage. I found myself saying, "I'll dance." So, to a standing ovation and a lively reggae beat I started dancing. I think I brought more funds than anyone else that night because they called me up for an encore. The rest of the service was wonderful with candlelight singers, skits, raffling of presents off the tree, and the gift exchange. I got a Spencer's gift style revolving lamp with fish on it. Joy to the World!