Re-posted. Original publish date: April 11, 2007

I got a comment after the last blog post about one of my stylish shirts I was wearing in my photo with Winsome. It came from a friend who knows how much I disliked the shirt I was wearing so it was all in good fun. But this made me think that I might want to point out that the stylish and fashionable ensembles I wear in Jamaica are tailored to the local trends rather than those we are familiar with here in the States.

Back in February I visited my sister and we went to Goodwill one afternoon to see what conservative, durable, comfortable, and colorful (or if you are spelling it in a Jamaican school: colourful) clothing I could find for a good price. The key here was cheap and conservative if truth be told.

Goodwill happens to have sales on particular days so I was on the hunt for clothes with a red tag (the were only $1.00) and I found a number of items that would help me look both professional at the school as well as meeting my CDCC (conservative, durable, comfortable, colorful) requirements.

One note before the fashion show begins. You will notice in almost any photo take of me in Jamaica, I am wearing some sort of headband or fabric to pull my hair back. This is *not* how I wear my hair on a daily basis, unless I am in Jamaica.


My natural curl is stubborn and insistent that it do wild things when I reach the tropical climates and having a shorter hairstyle guarantees that I will either look like Kramer, Lucille Ball, or Little Orphan Annie. None of which are all that pretty. Then again, my attempts to control my hair through the restraint of a headband isn't pretty either. But I do try.

So, fashionistas, fashion police, and those of you who think you have some style....here it is. My Jamaican fashion show along with commentary. (Note that these photos were taken here in the U.S. for the express purpose of showing the awesome outfits I donned. These photos were not take "on location.")

The Teacher Dress

I have to admit that I really like this dress and would actually wear it in my everyday life. I just need to find the right shoes to go with it. My driver to school said "You look very nice today. Just like a real teacher." Encouraging words from a man of fashion about town.

The Orange Blossom

When I saw this shirt at Goodwill, I knew the color would be a perfect jolt within the Jamaican color palette, but I didn't realize how nicely it would fit me. Another item I may wear here in the U.S. This shirt has a built-in safety feature which may not be obvious to the Jamaican-traveling novice. It is perfect for "being noticed" on the road, thereby avoiding being hit by a car.

The Rural Teacher Shirt

This red linen shirt was clearly a more Americanized selection and it reminds me of some of the teachers I have worked with who are from rural areas (here in the U.S.) that seem to select a softer, muted color palette. This is actually the shirt I chose to wear on my plane ride home so as to better blend with the home country after getting off the plane.

The Rural teacher shirt has one accessory which I didn't notice during my travels. The "pricing" tag that came with it at the Goodwill store.

The Rural Teacher skirt is featured here with the Urban Trotter Skirt, a skirt which I personally embellished.
The Urban Trotter Skirt features a zig-zag stitching pattern in hyacinth thread providing a unique design and practical mend to unfortunate splits on some seams.

The Kool-Aid Shirt with Black Broomstick Skirt
The Kool-Aid shirt was what prompted the comment on the prior post. It was by far, the favorite of the Jamaican fashion writers and I believe it may be again due to the vibrant colors. While it does not have any slenderizing qualities, it does indeed turn heads in both the Jamaican and American cultures. The broomstick skirt made of linen is the perfect length for just about everything *but* playing hacky-sack.

The Ego Pants

The Ego Pants are a flexible (both literally and figuratively) capri with an elastic waist. While the exact origin for the name of these lightweight pants is not clear, speculators agree on two possible theories:

1) The elastic waist allows deflated egos to grow when you try on a smaller size and the pants actually fit.
OR
2) You cannot have much of an ego if you wear these pants in public. Especially in the rain as they do become completely transparent when they are wet.

I'm betting that #2 is the correct origin for the name of these pants.

This concludes the fashion show, as well as my ability to walk in public with any sense of dignity.

Re-posted. Original Publish Date: April 3, 2007

I have returned from Jamaica - but was unable to post this before I left Jamaica. I am so happy to be home again! Enjoy reading.

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It has been a long 2 weeks in Jamaica for me - I've spent time at the local school and 5 days at the Infirmary.

I can't say that I am sad to be leaving Jamaica this time, certainly not as sad as I was back in November. Some of my earlier posts have reflected my frustration and I would say that much of the time here I have been fighting frustration and also fighting myself in ways.

At the end of our time at the infirmary I realized that all the things I had seen and the stories I had heard, had changed my perspective about the residents, staff, and management at the infirmary. And I must admit that at this point I really need a break from thinking about any of them.

In many ways, the truth about my love for those people and the infirmary as a place has been put to the test. I know that in all relationships the feelings can "fade" and one true test is the passage of time. Will I choose to continue loving or will I succumb to my disappointment in others?

I suppose that I have succumbed to disappointment momentarily but I know that what I believe stands firm - those at the infirmary (staff and residents alike) are humans who deserve love and to know a life of peace and grace. For the time being I am part of a larger group who extends love, peace and grace to those who work and live at the infirmary.

I realized by last Friday that the infirmary was a puzzle to me. The staff have a series of puzzle pieces, the leadership has some puzzle pieces, and the residents have many puzzles pieces that all fit together in some shape that I can't quite make out. In fact, I wonder if they all have pieces to the same puzzle at times.

All the pieces must fit together, it's just difficult to see what the puzzle, once assembled, is showing me. I don't know yet and I think it will take some time before I do. It seems like I can see some of the picture, but I'm not yet confident that the view I have is correct.
After leaving the infirmary and saying goodbye to our team on Sunday, I have been spending my nights at the home of Winsome Rose, a lovely woman who is heavily involved in the Won by One ministry and serves on their board of directors.

Every night I have grown to enjoy her company more and more. Around me, she is quiet for the most part and she graciously puts up with my many questions.

"What foods do Jamaicans dislike that Americans love?"
black olives

"What do you call Junebugs?"
guungu bugs

"Who are your friends in Harmons?"
none - she has many many cousins and extended family here, so she doesn't really have friends in Harmons, just family.

"When was your first trip to the States?"
2004 (which was also when she took her first plane ride)

(This was as far as I got in my post before I flew home...but I have finished the post below)
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Before I departed, Winsome gave me a big hug and told me to call her when I got home. I called her and she said how much she had missed me the previous night. It seems she must have missed sitting on the veranda with me and my endless questions. I think that I can safely say that Winsome is my friend and she will continue to be. At last a puzzle that seems easy to piece together.

Re-posted. Original Publish date: March 28, 2007

Since my (Elizabeth) first trip in 2004 Ryan and I have been trying to find ways to return to Jamaica. The first return was in November (2006) and now we are here again. We have been quite literally planning for these days and nights for 2 1/2 years and more specifically we have been planning to serve at the infirmary during week-long trips for the last year. It has been a good but also tiring process.

We've just completed 3 days at the infirmary and it has been an interesting experience, especially compared to our last trip. I think this is in part because the dynamics of our prior group were vastly different from the current group.

We are again 5 professionals with varied skills (but all sharing passionate hearts) except that this time we have included 5 students with every day-long visit. It is interesting to see how the different college students respond to their time at the infirmary. Some are immediately captivated and express a sense of "calling" to be there. One particular student came to the infirmary yesterday (Tuesday) and was blazing with a sense of injustice that others would live in such dire conditions.

He decided to work on house building today with the rest of the college student teams, but when the full Won by One student team came to visit the infirmary today for about 90 minutes, he immediately approached me as I worked on crafts with some of the women. He was beaming, so I asked him how the housebuilding had gone.

He shared that it had been fun, but he "knew where he belonged" and it was clear at that moment that he would be spending the remainder of his trip with us at the infirmary. It is encouraging and inspiring to see such ferocity and compassion in someone at the same time.

Personally, I have been struggling on this trip - realizing more about my selfish nature and realizing that a part of me wants to be needed by those at the infirmary. The moments where I saw Silvia walk on her own (using a newly donated walker) brought me to tears and it was in that same moment that I realized she would no longer use her "death grip" to cling to any of us in order to move around.

It was a scene of freedom for Silvia which made me feel elated. And yet at the same time a very dark part of my heart became afraid that this was could be one of the many first steps toward not being needed by these new friends. It was a feeling of devastation within my heart, and also a feeling of shame that I would somehow want people to be limited so that I could serve them. Could this really be a part of my heart?

It wasn't until this morning that I was reminded that friendship holds times of joy and sorrow, gain and loss. In friendship, you need a friend who can relate in a reciprocal way, not a donor who can network or fundraise on your behalf. So my friends at the infirmary still need me - simply because we are friends, and people need people. They may need some of the money and supplies I can get donated, but more importantly they need an advocate, a friend, someone to hold their hand in joy and in sadness. The joy of reuniting and the sadness of parting, which will happen very soon. Too soon.

I think my expectations for this trip have not matched reality - I anticipated that I would feel deeply moved during my time here as I have in the past - in a very positive way. And yet I have found myself frustrated much of the time. Stymied in some way which I find difficult to articulate.

I suppose a classic example of feeling at a loss or socially bewildered has just happened to me. Needing a break from the group and a moment to myself to simply reflect, I have took to our bedroom to write this blog post. All of the team and a ton of our Jamaican friends are out in the "courtyard" watching a movie on the big screen that Won by One has set up, using a digital projector to play the movie. It is a rare treat for the Jamaicans to see a movie on the big screen so the night has drawn a big crowd.

Just moments ago I needed to run out to say hello to our Won by One driver and give him a gift I had brought with me for his help in taking me to the airport next week. I peered into the courtyard after we spoke and saw an older woman who I had met back in 2004. She was difficult to talk to then - a woman of few words, and those few words were often tinted with a bit of bluntness which I always find hard to deal with.

As I peered into the courtyard she saw me from the aisle and waved at me to come over, looking excited. The person sitting next to her had just gotten up and left the empty popcorn bowl in the seat next to her, and from the way she motioned as well as what I *thought* she said, I went around to sit in the newly vacated seat. I was a little too quick to take this greeting as a gesture for me to join her, even though we had sat next to one another during the movie we watched during our November trip.

As I bent down to sit on the bench next to her, she raised the popcorn bowl and said - "get more popcorn." So I took the bowl, shaking my head in disbelief and allowed someone else to take it back out the crowd. I'm a little spent emotionally it seems (AND I didn't sleep well last night) so I decided that was enough for one night and returned to the computer and empty bedroom.

Sometimes we don't get to be everybody's friend, just their popcorn-getter. To everything there is a season. I guess I will just ride through this season and look forward to the next.

We still have 2 days left at the infirmary and I think that things will slow down a bit for me tomorrow and Friday. Tomorrow I plan to relax a bit more, enjoy making cards with my friends, visit with Pearl, and relax in the sense of light, freedom, and proximity to Christ that I feel when I am at the infirmary. It seems paradoxical but it is what I now experience when I am there, among my friends.

Here are some photos from the trip:

New artwork Evelyn created with markers and paper we left with her in November 2006.

Crafts made by Infirmary residents using the art supplies we brought with us.
(Photo frames, greeting cards, crosses)

Re-posted. Original publish date: March 24, 2007

We survived Friday at the school, and in fact things went quite well. I have realized that I may be better at working with kids than with adults. At least I enjoy it more. Maybe it has something to do with my "control issues." Don't worry, I know you were thinking it as well.

We got to the school around 9:00 and of course school was supposed to have started at 8:30 but hadn't begun yet. The teachers weren't in their classrooms and of course the students weren't either. It was a bit hectic really. Who says that school uniforms are the key to uniformity?

The particular teacher who had been rather rude on Thursday was less so on Friday, although she gave me a nickname with an attitude in her voice which seemed to imply that the nickname wasn't friendly. I'm now called "Betty." I will try to accept my new name with grace, and as my Mother would probably say, "It's better than being called Liz." So at least one person is probably happy with the new name - please enjoy this moment Mom.

Around the time of the lunch break (10:30 to 12:30) my stubborn teacher came to see the software we'd brought in and spent the morning cataloguing. She was thrilled to be using one of the laptops and we even caught her singing along to one of the songs in the particular program. Eventually students began to wander in and gather around the teachers sitting at the laptops - it was fascinating.
They were so intrigued! I think the most dismaying part was that the teachers didn't encourage the students to try the computers, in fact they said nothing to the students and ignored them completely. It raised my fears that the lab will be a teacher's toy and haven, rather than a place of student & teacher engagement.

After the teachers left I kept a few students behind to work with them on the computers on the basic things like "this is the mouse...it lets you move around in the computer. You can use your fingers to click the mouse and tell the computer what you want to do"

During this more private student time there was a continual stream of students peeking in the windows from across the room. I truly felt bad that they couldn't all come in, but sometimes you have to start small I guess. I had to start very small since the 15 kids waiting around were too much to handle. About 5 kids stayed around (we had to scoot the others out) to use one of the younger aged software programs and I started working with one boy on PowerPoint with visions of creating his own story in Powerpoint (it is a great organization tool for kids' stories) down the line.

After my earlier post, a friend asked me via email why I thought the teachers were naive. I see them as naive because they look at this computer as their savior it seems - the thing that will save them from doing their job. The computer is the thing that will get blamed when the students don't perform any better after using them, when in fact the reasons for low student performance have nothing to do with whether or not you have access to computer technologies. It has everything to do with the quality of teaching, the support of families, the support of governments, and a host of other variables. I see these teachers as naive because they simply don't recognize that the technology isn't going to teach itself to the children - it is going to require a lot of time from the teachers and a big supply of patience which they don't seem to exhibit. Using computers in the classroom doesn't guarantee better student performance or better behavior.

I realize that the teaching methodologies can vary widely throughout the world and even within the same school building. But some of the things I have seen at this school haven't built my confidence in the teachers' ability to plan ahead so that the technology is well used and integrated into the curriculum. They don't understand why it would be important to find out more about student attitudes toward the computers, they don't see any value in establishing a technology plan to lay out the goals and methods to achieve the goals that the teachers want to accomplish in the next 3 months, 6 months, and one year. Perhaps I see the value in these things because we have already been through this phase in the US school system and we have learned the lessons which I want to spare them. The lessons I think they should have learned by "watching" teachers in other places for the last 15-20 years.

Even worse, my confidence is sorely lacking that they will be able to pass on the knowledge they do have in using the computers because of many things I have seen at the school but also one particular comment which really bothered me.

On Thursday, the 4th and 5th graders were working on the new concept of algebraic equations. The day before they had learned about what happens when you try to balance an equation to figure out what the variable is. They had learned about equations using addition and subtraction. After just a single lesson their teacher had moved them on to algebraic equations using multiplication and division and it was clear that there had not been any time to practice what had been learned or to actually understand what it means when you have a variable in an equation. The students didn't seem to understand the concepts of balancing an equation at all in fact.

As one student struggled to tell the class what 35 divided by 5 was, the teacher said aloud to the the girl in front of the class:
"This is very shameful that you do not know your 5 times tables, for they are the easiest of them all."

Now, maybe it IS a shameful thing to not know your 5 times tables when you are in 4th or 5th grade and maybe for some people they are the easiest of all to learn. But this punitive response doesn't help a child to understand the times tables or to memorize them with any heartfelt desire. I imagine it does quite the opposite and squelching a young female child in math angers me a lot. Perhaps the teacher realizes that the young girl will never make it to high school, but humiliation is never the key to helping someone learn. Not her nor the other children who are silently watching the lesson unfold.

Well, I have completely digressed and again shown my frustration with a group of teachers who need more than they will get and are probably doing the best they can on low pay and low support. So I will just switch gears radically.

Yesterday we had a major thunderstorm that began around 2:00 and shut down our power for about 7-8 hours. We passed the night in darkness using just a few lights powered by a diesel generator which had some noxious fumes. We had the luxury of watching a few episodes of 24 (Season 5) on Abby's computer which I found quite fun and relaxing, but Abby, having never seen the show, found quite stressful and tense. If you are familiar with 24 then you know how tense it can make you feel!

Today, Saturday, was quite different from the rest of the trip since we were "home" for the majority of the day helping out around Harmony House with a few chores here and there. I ate dumplings and a boiled cabbage and fish dish for lunch and it was surprisingly good. I was hoping for more even.

We checked on the progress of the remodeling effort here at the Harmony House and we played some scrabble to pass the time. It has been an incredibly relaxing day - no complaints, other than the fact that Abby has beat me in both games of Scrabble. She looks awfully happy doesn't she? Well, there is always tomorrow...

Speaking of tomorrow, we hope to go to church (perhaps we'll arrive late since short services tend to be 2.5 hours long) and the rest of the team will arrive by evening. I'm really looking forward to seeing Ryan and the rest of the team - it has felt like a very long time since I've seen his sweet face.

Re-posted. Original publish date: March 23, 2007

Yesterday was my "travel day" to Jamaica and I left Boston in the early hours of the morning. At the Newark Airport I met up with my friend Abby and then we flew into Montego Bay. Our hosts (who are on staff with Won by One) met us at the airport and drove us 3 hours to Harmons after a stop in the bigger town of Mandeville for a bite at Burger King.

My whopper junior tasted like fish and as you might imagine it rather turned me off to the meal. My next taste of beef in Jamaica will be the famous "Jamaican Beef Patti" which I can guarantee will not taste at all like fish. But rather like a nice rich fatty piece of pastry heaven.

Today (Thursday) Abby and I went to the local school to observe classes and get to know the teachers. Our goal was to begin to glimpse what a typical day might be like and what challenges the teachers hope the (soon to come) 12 computers will meet in their classrooms.

Abby was relegated to a small windowless classroom to proctor a "mock exam" for the eight 6th grade students who will move on to high school next year. Well, they'll move on if they are lucky or have the money to do so. One of the girls cannot read beyond a first grade level and another child simply cannot read at all. They guessed on the multiple choice exam I suppose. Abby also took the exam....under the pretense of taking it for fun. In reality she took the exam and her test became the scoring guide which she then used to grade the tests for the Principal.

The school is, at best, loosely organized and classroom management consists of raising one's voice. It is hard for someone like myself to sit back and watch. I think this trip is revealing to me how much of a "do-er" I am sometimes - always eager to be involved and proactive.

It seems that the teachers have some experience using computers (I had been led to believe otherwise) and that they are eager to get the computers so they can start using them. I fear that they have a lot to learn, lessons which can only be gained by trying, failing, and trying again. I hope the early experiences won't sour them. Their eagerness seems naive to me but that is surely a product of my own experiences and the 10 years I have been implementing and reflecting on how to best use technology in the classroom.

The prevailing attitude seems consistent with one of the attitudes expressed by teachers when they first get computers. While some teachers are fraught with anxiety about computers (paralyzed at best) others want the computer to do THEIR job for them - it is a lazy approach.

In ways I cannot blame them for these feelings, especially when they teach between 35-40 students huddled in a very tight classroom with rickety metal chairs. The metal chairs may be one of the worst parts - they scrape and screech noisily on the concrete floors, sounding like fingernails on a chalkboard multiplied times 10.

Some of the teachers were reasonably welcoming and others were put out by my presence. I suppose I must appear as an all-knowing American sweeping in with the answers, ready to sweep out again after a short period of time.

I am not what they need really - at least not in the capacity I currently serve. They need a coach and a mentor - someone who can wrestle through real academic challenges with them, someone who understands the daily grind and the culture behind it all. Someone who will be there when the computers break or they are frustrated by an inability that slaps them in the face.

This is not to imply that I am condescending or clueless, but rather that my time is short and they know it. In a way they have scrutinized me as if I am like the technology they are waiting to arrive - I have the answers and they just want me spit them out so they can do something else more desirable with their time. Like play solitaire on the computer. (One of the teachers played solitaire on the computer during the entire "planning" meeting and she took at least 3 cell phone calls. Clearly...she was not engaged.)

As some have learned about me before...I don't roll over lightly when pushed. And, one of the things I love most is the challenge of getting someone to like me when they are prone to shrug me off.

These teachers have, in many ways, met their match. I am an experienced classroom teacher, I have worked in the technology industry, I am studying technology, innovation, & education for my master's degree and I work at a teacher professional development project. Bring it ON!

I sound cocky, but in all honesty, I just hope that the coming days will be smoother, that my kindness will kill the rudeness and that at the end of my time they will see that I just want to help them get what they need. If they would dialogue with me, we could get somewhere. If they would respond to questions, I would have a better idea of what they need. Then we would actually be conversing and that is what I want the most.

Until then, I'll try to figure out how to "dance" enough to keep them entertained and reiterate the same ideas that seem most important and crucial in this beginning moment. "The computer is a tool to that CANNOT replace you....your students need YOU to help them succeed. The computer can help you, but it should not replace you."


One day they will get it - but not today. Maybe tomorrow. I'll keep dancing.

Am I really packing my bags again? You had better believe it!

We have very exciting news that stems from our passion for helping our new (and old) friends in Jamaica. We are heading back for another trip in March! We have a smaller team joining us this time, but they are a dynamite group!

This trip will be slightly different (at least for me...Liz) because it will involve both the local school *and* the Clarendon Infirmary. On March 21 I will be flying with a dear friend, Abby to Jamaica where we will spend a few days working with the elementary school before our "Infirmary Team" arrives on the 25th.

Our work at the elementary school will be driven by the goals of an Independent Study project I am working on to complete my masters degree. My overall goals are to assist the school in creating a technology plan for the computers and lab which have been donated through the help of Won by One. I'm looking forward to spending 5 days at the school to help them set goals for their new access to computer technologies, and outline the steps to achieve them. It should be a lot of fun. I can safely say that I have never been so excited about any other "class" I've taken during my masters program.

My time at the school will be spit into two segments, with a 4-5 day stint at the infirmary in the middle similar to what we experienced in November. Our Infirmary team consists of 5 die-hard members who hail from Texas, Arizona, and Massachusetts. Our last 3-state team was so phenomenal that we decided to do it again!

As we begin to lay more detailed plans, we will keep you informed. Next step....introducing you to our newest Infirmary team. Joining Ryan and I from Texas we have Elaine and Charla and from Arizona we have Abby. They are all warm climate dwellers so I have a feeling they will have not only a tan before we go, but the ability to withstand the warm temps we'll have in late March. Stay tuned for more information about each of our team members!

If you'd like to donate to our trip, please click on the button below.
Liz
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Post written by Liz Lincoln

Unknown Name Unknown Number. That’s the what the call display reads. But it is a sign of change that I have become somehow eager to answer the phone when it reads Unknown Name Unknown Number. And indeed there is irony in this very phrase.

It used to be that this phrase on the call display meant a telemarketer was on the other end, or it was one of those calls with the endless annoying series of beeps that seem to plague our phone line at various times of night, day, or early-early morning. Over the last few months however, I have come to learn that Unknown Name Unknown Number actually means “Jamaican friend reaching out.”

And the irony in many ways is that I can see by the world’s standards, these people are completely Unknown. And they are primarily considered Unimportant. I find this to be Unthinkable, Unbearable, Undeniably wrong.

Pearl has called me, sharing her pain, her joy, her fear, her needs. Tony has called, sharing his life, his need, his desire, his willingness to work. And tonight, Gary called. I didn’t even know Gary had a phone!

He shared about his Christmas with family, his desire to get back into Special Olympics to play bocce, and that the mobile we made together in November had been torn down by a resident at the Infirmary.

“He is blind.” he said without anger, irritation or sarcasm, all the things I would have attached to such a phrase if the tables were turned. “It was hung too low.” He said.

Just the facts, no hidden meaning attached.

I asked him, in my sensitive “I’m-a-Christian” way, which I find rather embarrassing in retrospect, if there was anything we could be praying about for him. How assuming of me, really, to think that he would NEED my prayer. And yet, he may, but in some ways my gesture felt hollow and naive after I hung up the phone.

“Nothing comes to mind.” he said.

This seems typical of the people I have met at the infirmary. Even though they are in the valley of the shadow of death, quite literally with some residents now breathing only the thinnest wisps of air, dementia upon their shoulder, crippled limbs that no longer have circulation where the familiar spots of gang-green are beginning to appear. Their location down the street from a cemetery seems bitingly appropriate. The valley of the shadow of death is in many ways, their home.

But Gary didn’t call because he was in the valley, or because he wants anything from me other than what you do with friends or family. He just wanted to chat and get the most out of the few cell phone minutes he could afford until they ran dry after 10 minutes. He just wanted to visit.

I never believed for an instant that I would serve at the infirmary, make friends there, and crumple broken-hearted when I had to say goodbye. I never believed I would learn so many names or in such a short period of time, come to know mannerisms, likes and dislikes. I never expected or anticipated it, but the Unknown became Known.

This post was authored by Nathan, one of our teammates who courageously led us in music each day at the infirmary:

Jamaica.

Was it going to be another service project? I know what those are like.

Was it going to be unique, fun, and rewarding?

Well.

The trip to Jamaica was the toughest volunteer week I have ever done. Both emotionally and psychologically. And I’m still processing the trip, over a month after I’ve come home.

For me, there were two factors that were difficult. The first was the level of poverty of a developing country. I have to admit, I guess I am not as carefree about dirt and about touching dirty hands/feet/forks/spoons/cups/clothes as I used to be. Not sure if that is a sign of weakness or a sign of getting older or a sign of something else. Regardless, it was difficult, knowing that I should be loving and accepting and friendly, and knowing that those actions were a part of who I was and wanted to be, but yet finding myself reserved, untrusting, and on edge. It’s a developing country! Disease, infections, bad food all happen in places like Jamaica. I couldn’t rest easily.

But when I got outside of myself, I still could not rest easily, because all around were people living in these conditions. Of course, you say, in poverty-stricken valleys are where Jamaican’s live; one had to have expected that. Well, that’s what I told myself too, I tried not to be surprised, but how was I to fit in here? How was I to contribute, to help? In the states, you can make something clean – a new coat of paint, a newly landscaped yard, beautification. However, here in Jamaica, you couldn’t do that. I mean, you could, but it would be a poor band-aid to cover the major problems that exist there. Fresh paint on a wall that is crumbling or is really just a patchwork of corrugated metal, or mulch and flowers in a yard in a rain forest with banana trees, thick undergrowth, goats, and chickens just seems hypocritical. There is a different kind of need in Jamaica, as with other developing countries. One that is deeper, more insistent, more important.

I was impressed by Won by One because I felt that they were meeting those deeper needs of the community. Clothes, food, jobs, a sense of community, a sense of family, a safe place where children, teens, adults can hang out. Most importantly, Won by One provided a living example of the Word. Their impact on the community of Harmons was definitely noticeable, even in the short time I was there, and it was inspiring.

I was also inspired by families while in Jamaica. When people have nothing, they at least have their own family. Three, sometimes four, generations living under the same roof. Everyone has a job to do, everyone helps in order to make things a little better for everyone else. And everyone takes care of those who can’t take care of themselves, the young and the very old. Much stronger bonds then are here in the states. Granted, most children are born out of wedlock, and most mothers are single, however, support from parents, sisters, aunts, uncles, siblings all help to keep families moving forward. It made me wonder why my grandmother doesn’t live with me. And why I don’t call her enough, or my parents enough for that matter.


So, with my first difficulty in Jamaica being the poverty, my second was our actual service.

We served at the Clarendon May Pen Infirmary. As you might have read from previous posts, the infirmary serves people who can no longer take care of themselves and have no one that is able to take care of them. The locals call it the Poor House, but it is basically the last stop on the line. Going there for the first time, I didn’t really know what to expect other than a general state of destitution. What I didn’t expect was that I felt like I was walking into a horror show.

It was tough, and I won’t go into too much detail here, but I would close my eyes to sleep at night and see images: wide vacant staring expressionless eyes, drool, contorted bodies, flies. Sounds of shrieking, and the smell of urine everywhere. I didn’t want to touch anything. I didn’t want to touch anybody. It was all I could do to get out of the van each morning… like jumping into an icy lake, everyday, over and over again. Each time knowing more what it feels like, thus dreading it worse and worse.

I had many questions. I didn’t understand how this could happen. I mean, surely it happens, more frequently that I know. But actually like this? These people who seemed to live and sometimes act like animals, could they be human? Could they be my brothers and sisters? I found strength in the Word and in quotes from Mother Teresa. When taken as a whole, all of the suffering makes it hard to focus and concentrate. But individually, by focusing on one person at a time, you can help and serve and meet that one person’s needs as best as you can. Sitting down with one person at a time was the only way I could face and try to understand it.


Over the course of the week, amazing things happened. I found myself looking in the mirror and seeing expressions of the people we were working with in my face. Lying in bed at night I felt like the infirmary resident whose bed I sat on earlier that day, with his sheets pulled up to his chin. Each of these little moments made me realize how much I was like them. And when each day as they smiled or laughed in recognition, I realized that we had made friends.

Go figure. We had intended to go and serve the people at the infirmary, and God made friends for us. Unbelievable.

I can’t say how many times I cried that week or even after I got home and had a chance to unwind a little. But I can say that I know people in May Pen. People who are a little different, a little slow, and a little forgetful. People who like to laugh, like to sing, and like to color. People who don’t strive for beauty. People who are misunderstood. People who have such a strong faith. People who love and love to be loved.
-Nathan

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PLEASE NOTE: We continue to raise funds for those at the infirmary and will be returning in March 2007 to further the work we began in November. All donations made through our site are managed by Ryan Lincoln. You will see his name appear throughout the transaction. You may also contact Ryan at ryanlincoln@post.harvard.edu if you have any questions about your payment. Thank you for your contribution!