This morning, I went for a run at the Reservoir and caught a taxi back down Hope Road to get home. I hailed a route taxi, as is my habit. It was a dark gray car with the customary red sign on the side. (Route taxis follow the same route as the buses do. They are often rickety old cars that have been stripped down. Door handles too, so you sometimes have to open the door from the outside, and sometimes I’ve even worried about the door staying shut. You are also often squished in together with four or five other people).

In any case, after I confirmed that the driver was going to Half-Way Tree, I noticed I would be the only passenger in the car. This made me a bit nervous, but I figured we would soon pick up other passengers. I immediately smelled the pungent odor of marijuana. Once the driver got off the phone, he asked me “Do you mind if I smoke my ganja?” I said no, I actually did not mind. Taking a route taxi is basically making a contract with yourself that you are taking a risk- the drivers often drive like maniacs. I would actually prefer a mellow driver, so no, I did not mind. What I did mind was when he asked me if it was okay if he went off-route to avoid the police. This is not unusual, sometimes the drivers will do this to avoid traffic. But I did not know why he wanted to avoid the police and I did not want to be alone with a driver if he went off route. So I asked him to let me off at the next bus stop, and he obliged.

I tell this story because it brings in the topic of marijuana. I have been thinking a lot about stereotyping (even more than usual) since the VW Superbowl aired last week. Since I moved here, I have refrained from discussing marijuana and the proliferation, or lack thereof. But I feel confident now in saying that its use is no more prevalent than any other place I have lived. This might be a surprise to some people. Jamaica is known for its “happy” people, the accent, its coffee, Rastafarians, the entertainment industry, beaches, and of course, marijuana.

But I feel safe in saying that the level of use here is not such that it seems out of control or influential in the daily lives of people. Why is this important for me to note? Just making a point that things are not what they seem when portrayed in media and then massaged over the years into stereotypes.

The pictures are from a beach day we had on Saturday at Fort Clarence. That is Brianna’s new tattoo- it reads “love.” Have a good Monday.