One thing I have learned very quickly about the Jamaican people (yes, a generalization but I feel comfortable making it) is that they are opinionated. To the point that they treat their views as an unequivocal fact rather than hypothesis. And they seem to enjoy telling one another why they are correct. They will tell anyone, actually; passers-by on the street; friends, families, whomever. This is a polarized society. We have been warned not to discuss religion or politics or sexuality; a truism for most places. Here, it could get you killed, we have been told. In fact, volunteers were warned to stay off the streets during last December’s federal election. 

I’m getting used to it, myself. I find it fascinating. Even the way they air their views is interesting; it is usually a long, detailed, loud, passionate, intricate diatribe that does not stop unless someone manages to interject with an alternate point of view. People really seem to have an opinion when I run, for example. I get quite a few comments every time. A couple  include: “Move it! (referring to me moving it)” and “You nice and fit girl”.I did not, however, enjoy it this morning when Mr. Fraser chose to opine on my fitness. I came back from a run and here’s his diatribe (imagine it in patois):

“Kate! You back from a walk (I have told him a few times I actually run…oh well)! Good for you! It is working for you- you are nice and trim. You work up a good sweat- sweat all the toxins out. You want to stay trim, don’t want to get fat on the belly. You are nice and trim- lotta girls going to grudge you for that.”

At that point, I managed to get a word in and said “I hope not,” then told him I had to get ready to go to the beach. Urrgh. So awkward. What do I do? Ok gotta go to Treasure Beach, Wendy just got here.