It’s Easter Sunday, a holiday weekend in Jamaica, and one I’ve spent sharing my time between host family and friends. This morning I’ll finish packing because this afternoon we leave Hellshire for a more rural part of the island and our next phase of training.
It will be a change of pace for sure. In our next community, while we continue to acclimate to the language and lifestyle, we will also be coping for the first time with potential water shortages and very limited internet access which complicates how we communicate professionally in training, socially with one another, and our families in the States. We’ll also be losing the extra cushion of security and mobility that comes from living within a few blocks of one another in a small town that’s housed Peace Corps trainees for twelve years.
Hellshire is a close-knit community, geographically and socially. When people see me on the street, the first thing they want to know is “Who yu host mada?” partly because they’re a little bit nosy, but also because they’re genuinely invested in keeping us safe. There are two main reasons that we greet everyone we see on the street. The first is that we’re told that it’s the Jamaican thing to do. The second is that in a place like Hellshire, everybody knows everybody. I’ve found that the more people I’ve met, the more neighbors I’ve stopped to make small talk with or run over a bowl of Miss Clair’s beef soup to, the more I feel like they have my back. Last week my host mother taught me the proverb “triitmint kum fram weh triitmint go.” (treatment comes from where treatment goes) People take care of one another here because they believe that whatever you put into your community comes full circle back to you. The other day a family friend was talking about watching all of those housing shows on HGTV. She told me that she doesn’t understand why people on the show turn down beautiful homes because they’re too close to their neighbors. In her lens, the American demand for privacy makes no sense. She said if you’re robbed, or need to go to the hospital, you want your neighbor’s yard to buck up to your yard so you have help when you really need it.
I know I’ve been spoiled in Hellshire. That doesn’t only apply to having wifi in my home, no lifestyle-altering water shortages, and being able to run down the block to the bar or a friend’s porch with relative ease. Three weeks is a short time, but I feel sometimes that my host family could be part of my family. Part of that was clever placement on part of the Peace Corps Jamaica office, part of it was being open to how they live and willing to go along for the ride, but a lot of it is their support and humor. I can laugh at myself, but boy can they laugh at me too. Last night was a leftovers-for-dinner kind of a night. I found a bowl of rice and a bowl of soup in the fridge, and hodge-podges are no big thing back home, so I mixed them together thinking it would be kind of like chicken-and-rice. It tasted fine, but turns out Jamaicans never put rice in their soup, there is no chicken-and-rice unless the chicken is jerked or curried and the rice is on the side with peas (beans), and they were not afraid to tell me so. They all laughed at me, including the family friend and her daughter who were over to get their hair braided by my host sister, but then they’re usually laughing at me for something.
These are the moments I’ll miss the most in Hellshire and make it hard to believe it’s only been three weeks, even though lack of separation has been my biggest adjustment and challenge. Going back to the family friend who didn’t understand why Americans need so much privacy, privacy is what I miss the most. I understand and appreciate the need for a curfew and sharing our whereabouts with our host families, and I am grateful that the Peace Corps, my host parents, and many of the other community members are fully invested in my safety. I know that that is the reason we’ve had so much mobility – and frankly why we’ve had so much fun – and I am thankful. But…being in my late twenties, having lived on my own a while and being used to a lot of autonomy in my decision making, this has been the biggest cultural obstacle for me but I’m starting to get it. Not so much being asked where I’m going, who’s host parents’, and when I’ll be home, those are things that I expected and can understand without stepping outside my experience. It tends to be more of the little things that challenge me. Because I’ve spent so long making decisions exclusively for myself, it sometimes feels like an over investment and suggestions about things like my eating habits, the way I do my laundry, if my homework is done, that I should go to bed right now because I look tired, etc. I’ll admit that sometimes it’s a lot of work to answer each and every one of those questions, but I realize that it comes from love and it’s not the same as hearing those things back home, and I remind myself of that over and over. Well that may not make it necessarily easier just yet, I’m beginning to understand. And when I’m able to pocket that want for tighter boundaries – a want that I am aware is very specific to my cultural upbringing – some really cool things happen and I’ve gotten to be part of this family. Sometimes I’m not able to just tuck away that need for space, and my family is great about recognizing that it is a legitimate need, and they let me take it. That’s why my host mom encourages early bed times and makes sure that I eat all of my breakfast. It isn’t a standard tenant-landlord relationship at all. She is genuinely supportive and invested in my health.
The best moments in Hellshire have been those that are kind of weird to me, just slightly uncomfortable, but really simple. Trying to help my host mom get ready to serve dinner at her anniversary party and being handed a grilled fish to go eat. A gaggle of preteen girls randomly braiding my hair. Encouraging a curious toddler to sit on my lap and realizing after the fact that she was hesitating because she’d peed her pants. Heart to hearts with my host mother and whatever neighbor was passing by in half Patwah, half English as we sit on the front stoop and watch the sea fade away into night. My host dad blasting slow jams from his stereo system for hours from classics Celine Dion to old school mento to a reggae cover of Britney Spears’ “Sometimes” which was very strange but worked well.
In a lot ways I’m ready for the next phase of training. Our next community will be a bit closer to what my two-year post will look like, and I’m ready to see what that might look like. I’m prepared for the water shortages and lack of wifi, expecting that it’s a little bit closer to what I imagined Peace Corps would look like when I signed up. But being part of this family has been so much more than I ever expected. By being open to things but also honest about my experience, I’ve connected with my host family and the Hellshire community in ways I never imagined people can connect in just three weeks. I’m ready for the next adventure, but cannot wait to see my Hellshire family again in six weeks.
Live Adventure Liz 