Here I present two delightful encounters I’ve had in recent days.

One day last week I was walking home from work. I saw the security guard from my bank walking home and he started hailing me to cross the street and talk to him. He is an elegant, elderly gentleman and was dressed in his forest green work-issued blazer. He started telling me about a road race, a 5K the next day in the corporate area. Turns out he has seen me running in the mornings. He is also a runner. In fact, he reached around to pull something out from his knapsack. He proudly showed me his bib number for the next day’s race. His name is Denzil (like the actor) Lewis (like the boxer) and he has won his category for his age group (60-69) for the past four races he has run. He encouraged me to turn out for the race the next day and promised to keep me informed about any upcoming events.

Yesterday, all of a sudden, a young man popped his head around the corner and greeted me very energetically. I’d never seen him before and thought he was one of the youth we work with. But apparently, he lives just down the road and visits the YOU offices frequently. We had a great chat about music (he loves Lady Gaga, Beyonce, Katy Perry) and life in general. He was very curious about why I am here. At first he asked me what part of America I am from. Then he grilled me on the whole volunteering arrangement that brought me here. He would make a great journalist. We were having a riveting conversation. Then, he paused, looked at me intently, and asked “So what do you think of the whole slavery thing?” I laughed because I could not tell if he was serious or not. He was. I truly did not know how to respond, so I just went with “It was obviously a horrible, horrible thing that should never have happened.” He seemed satisfied with that and we resumed our conversation about music and traveling and school. Then, with equal abruptness, he said, “Well, I see I am distracting you from your work, so I will say goodbye.” And then he was gone.

I now present a portrait one of the youth I have met along the way. I have changed some details to protect his privacy, but the essence of his story remains. (Two caveats- I talked with this youth for awhile and believe most of what he told me to be true, but a lot can get lost in the miscommunication that happens because of cultural differences. This is kind of a one-dimensional portrait, and this is because we were having a discussion specific to the problems youth in Jamaica face.)

Odain is 29 years old. He is of slight build but is sinewy with muscle. His eyes are a dark brown and bright and they don’t miss a thing. He has a deep, shiny scar on his arm, probably from a knife wound. He comes from an inner-city community. He did not finish high school and most of his family lives abroad, including his father. “My father never wanted me,” he told me. He does not know where his mother is. He has been in jail several times, one time for a year, the others for less. Odain said jail was okay, he even made some friends there. Why was he in jail? He robbed people. He also used to be a “badman” or a “gunman”. He would guard a garrison community for a don- he called this activity ‘bleaching’ (not to be confused with the bleaching that refers to lightening one’s skin). He was provided with a 9mm and an M16 so he could observe comings and goings in the community. If anyone not supposed to be there appeared, he would shoot at them. “But I never hurt anyone,” he told me. He used to smoke weed and drink, way too much, but he has since quit. Sometimes, however, when the stress piles too high on his head, he goes up in a tree and smokes a spliff. But most days, he is just trying to make it, trying to deal with the frustrations. So what are his frustrations? Right now, he is trying to get a job. His resume is well-done and professional and he has some experience working in heavy labour. He has graduated from one of the programs that Youth Opportunities Unlimited runs, which gave him experience in digital arts. He has also written an impeccable cover letter, which he hopes will land him an interview. During our conversation, Odain was charming and funny. He never broke eye contact and seemed to want me to understand that life is frustrating. Odain has a five-year-old child and a babymother. He wants to support them more than anything. He wants a job more than anything. Amongst the youth we work with, this seems to be representative of the main concern. They just want to work. 

A few years back, when then presidential candidate Barack Obama was running for office, a political commentator declared that he was a ‘human Rorschach test.’ Meaning that your view of him as a “minority” candidate said more about you and your views on race than about Mr. Obama. Like many terms coined in the bubble surrounding the privileged class who live in Washington, D.C., it took off and is now mainstreamed. To me, it is just another way of saying that everything is relative; we all have our own unique perspective based on our experiences; glass half-full or half-empty sort of thing.

This preamble leads me to talk about living as a foreigner in Kingston. Jamaicans, of course, ask me and my fellow volunteers how we like it here. I often say I love it- and most Jamaicans laugh and ask me what I love about it. Other volunteers, of course, say different things. I know some of us struggle with some aspects that aren’t so pleasant and some of us are energized by these very aspects. Which brings me to something I notice every day on my way to work. I walk through an abandoned lot. It is now home to a rusty flatbed truck and piles of garbage and gravel. But out of these piles grow these gorgeous fuschia flowers.There is an entire niche of academia devoted to these ‘urban weeds’- plants that thrive in the most unlikeliest of environments. It is a beautiful concept, if you think about it.

But back to here in Kingston. Depending on my mood, some days I see the garbage and the ugliness it represents, some days I see the flowers and their beauty and resilience, and some days I see both. And then some days I take the meta view and write a post like this, where I am clearly thinking too much. What do you think you would see? There is no doubt that garbage is a problem here, or rather, a lack of disposal facilities and an unwillingness amongst people to locate those that do exist. But there is also an abundance of beauty, both physical and in the spirit of the people who live here.