Reblogged from Live Beyond Yourself:

As last year’s agricultural season came to an end and I had to say goodbye to my migrant worker friends who were returning home to Jamaica, it became clear that I needed to visit them.  There was an element to our friendships that seemed uneven – they’d gotten to know me by spending time in my home, hanging out with my friends and family, and taking part in lots of typical things we do here in Southern Ontario.  I, however, had only been able to see half of their life; the other half that included their home, culture, and families had only been relayed through stories and pictures.

My hope was that by taking advantage of a few of their countless hospitable offers, and staying in their homes as well as having them drive me from Point A to Point B (and points C through Z as it turned out), I’d be able to even out these friendships somewhat.  I’d be able to learn what could only be taught through experience.

This certainly happened, but the significance and impact of the trip would eclipse anything I could have imagined.

Let me start with just a few interesting things that stood out to me during my time in Jamaica:

Jamaica is Beautiful – no surprise here, but there is no that way my words or pictures could come close to doing it justice.  The royal blues and emerald greens of the ocean; the lush mountains and rolling countryside; the unimaginably perfect climate; and the people with hearts as big as their mile-wide smiles.  It’s beauty is extraordinary and everywhere.

Eating was a Very Dickens Experience:

The Best of Times – Even if a worker has a postage-stamp sized piece of land, they fill every square inch with trees, bushes and vines that produce fresh food every day.  When it was time for a meal, you just walked outside with a basket.  The mass array of exotic and tasty fruits and vegetables was amazing.  Beyond that, some of the stereotypical Jamaican foods like jerked chicken and meat patties were enjoyed at a whole new level when they were prepared and served on home-turf.

The Worst of Times – I really tried, but the local classic, “ackee and saltfish,” just didn’t work for me as the Jamaican breakfast of champions.  There was one other breakfast that involved a lot of fins, tails and bones that I’d prefer not to elaborate on as well.

Jamaicans Have a Cure for Everything – We were often in local markets and I was surprised that there seemed to be just as many vendors selling roots, spices, and herbs for medicinal purposes, as there were food vendors.  I learned that most Jamaicans don’t have easy access to a doctor and few can afford medical treatment even if they did; so they strongly rely on Mother Nature.  As the week progressed I learned of home remedies for nearly everything, and rarely a day went by that didn’t end with a cup of “fever-grass tea” as some preventative medicine.

Driving Caused My Faith To Grow – I heard stories all summer about the crazy, narrow, and winding roads of Jamaica, but I didn’t factor in the mach-speeds that they drive.  I’ve been carted around some pretty wild places from Ecuador to India, and I’ve only been car sick once in my life…until this trip.  I was graciously taken all over the island by a few of my friends who were cab drivers (when not working in Canada), so I had full confidence in them.  I had a little less confidence in their vehicles – all boasting around 500,000km of wear and tear (and quite a bit of duct-tape and rubber bands).  The highlight was a two-hour drive at night through the mountains, where despite my friends best attempts, he could not get his headlights to work.  It was two hours of my friend honking the horn, “just so they know we’re coming,” and two hours of me getting closer to God!

I’m Starting To Understand Wah Gwaan – Although all Jamaicans speak English, my friends normally converse in Patwah.  It’s a pretty fascinating language created in the 17^th century when slaves from West and Central Africa were exposed to and learned of English spoken by their masters, and from this created their own language that they could use that their slave owners couldn’t understand.  The cool thing about it is that if my friends would slow things down for me, and you could actually hear what they were saying, it often wasn’t too hard to understand.  For example – “dah bredda (deh) mout ah massy eeh!” obviously means, “ that man (right there) is talkative, isn’t he?”OK, I got a bit of on-line help with that, but within a day or so I did find myself naturally greeting everyone with a “Wah Gwann” (what’s going on?), and ending our conversations with a “Lata” (later).

Jamaican Time is not Canadian Time – Although, in the end, I got everywhere I had hoped and was never stranded; I did quickly realize that “I’ll pick you up around 8:00am” actually means, “I’ll pick you up sometime.”  The first village I stayed in was called Coffee-Break Ridge.  The next place I visited was called Wait-a-Bit.  Enough said.

Jamaican’s Go To Church! – We went to church on Sunday…three times.  Actually it was pretty much all we did on Sunday.  It was a lively, active and expressive time of worship that I felt joyful and privileged to be a part of.  Word got out that I worked in a church, so to my surprise, I was asked to “come and give a word to the congregation.”  I preached three times that day, more than I’ve ever preached in my life

Jamaican Houses are Homes – Most of my friends start out with a small one or two room cinderblock house.  They are built with rebar coming out the sides and the top so that they can continually add on…and they do.  Most men could show me how they had added to their homes each year with the money they brought home from Canada.  All the homes I stayed in had electricity but few had running water or any of the luxuries of home.  I did start out with a bit of Olympic-TV withdrawal, I missed getting my internet updates, and it took me a few days to get skilled at the morning sponge bath (using about 3 inches of water); but it became very clear to me that although all these houses were small and simple, they had what really mattered – hospitality, laughter, fun, family and love.

I had planned on this Jamaican story being two parts, but as you may have noticed in the title, it’s become a trilogy.  There is still a huge story to tell – the stories of my friends – their lives, their families, their struggles and their achievements.  These are the most important stories to tell and I feel that it would be irresponsible to rush or abbreviate them.  So I’ve decided to live in “Jamaican Time” and give the third and final blog the time it needs.

Until then…Lata!