Kingston is a loud city. Car horns and traffic are probably what set the tone, then everything else must match that to be heard. And there is always music playing, wherever you go, often competing music, in fact. There are even ‘town criers,’ who drive around with loudspeakers affixed to their roofs, announcing events or promotions. This level of noise is a lot to become accustomed to, but I believe I have acclimated, as do others, it appears. A few weeks ago, I asked another volunteer what they missed about home, and at first they said the relative peace and quiet. They then stated that actually, the last time they were home, they began to miss the cacophony. It was too quiet, they said, and they craved the busy city they now called home. I think I would now place myself in that category, with one reservation: car alarms.

In North America, I would venture a guess that car alarms have been pretty much phased out. If a car is still outfitted with one and it goes off, nobody really reacts anymore. They seem almost a relic of the 80s, when cars were status symbols of the boom times. Not so here. Everybody seems to have a car alarm. That go off ALL THE TIME. And there is not just one sound- there is apparently a varied range of siren sounds and I believe I have heard just about every one now. In my apartment parking lot alone, they are always going off, and one seems to be set off every morning at five a.m. 

At times it feels like I am living in some sort of post-Apocalyptic city, as numerous alarms are blaring at the same time. This is to the point where I wonder if when I venture out, I will find a city in ruins. So far, so good. Apparently, there are just a lot of very sensitive car and building alarms. Crime is a problem here, but I would suggest that the number of blaring alarms set off everyday does not correlate with the attempted burglaries. 

This morning, I barely escaped a collision with a pair of white butterflies. They were frolicking with one another and I got in their way as I ran on the track I hit most mornings as the sun stretches over the Blue Mountains. This track is on the grounds of one of Kingston’s fancier hotels and it is this lush, gorgeous oasis in the heart of the city. Most days, I am alone as I pound out a 10k. Sometimes, there is the odd tourist doing a couple of laps. Always, there are people playing tennis at the court in the surrounded by the track. And always, there is other wildlife I must avoid, like lizards scurrying across the path, hummingbirds sipping nectar from the hibiscus and dim-witted doves just hanging out on the grass. Not only is it a short track at 400 metres, but it is a small space. There are a lot of towering trees, flowering bushes and dense greenery packed into it, however. At first, I thought I would go bananas and feel like a hamster in a wheel. But I have already grown attached to this place and how it lets me escape.

One of the things I love so much about running is the ability it lends me to both focus and to let my mind wander. It offers that ‘flow’ people talk about. I can often set my mind on a problem and have it solved by the end of the run or I ‘write’ columns or stories in my head as my feet strike the pavement. Research has shown lately that exercise stimulates the brain such that new neural pathways are formed. Clearly, I am not a scientist, but I would offer anecdotal evidence supporting this theory.

All this to say is that I have come to love this 400 metre track in the heart of Kingston. It offers me respite from the sun, from my mind, from the people laughing and calling when I run on the streets, from being on guard and from the dirt and dust that’s always floating around. When I moved here, the safety warnings had scared me to the point that I thought I would be stuck on a treadmill or taking up jump rope to get that cardio my body craves. There is no doubt that runners here have to be careful, but I have found a happy compromise. There are several running tracks that offer a safe place to work out. They are also perfumed by blooming flowers and I am always in good company with early risers beating the heat of the day. I especially like Mikey, an older fellow who claims to be a runner. He’s certainly dressed the part, in a mesh tank and running shoes and shorts, but I’ve never seen him running, only chatting to the regulars.

To a certain extent, I have had to modify the way I run. No longer can I tune out 100 per cent, except at these respites I describe. No longer do I simply lace up my shoes and randomly try a new route. I’ve mourned the loss of safety and security a little bit, but am way more grateful to be running in such a beautiful place, where I have near collisions with butterflies and lizards and hummingbirds. Where Dwayne, who tends the gardens around the track tells me I make his day. Where Mikey greets me every time I run and where I can access that place in my brain where new things happen. So how is this my own butterfly effect? This entire train of thought was sparked by almost colliding with a pair of butterflies. This encounter put a smile on my face then launched me into this trajectory. I guess it is true that the flap of a butterfly’s wings can alter the course of events.

One thing I am learning about this country is that the minute I think I have understood or become accustomed to something, I have an experience that upends it. A few posts back, I stated that I have stopped hearing calls of “Whitey!” so much. Perhaps people are used to me, got bored and moved on, I mused. I had also observed that women yell this at me very little, if at all. 

So of course, the past few days, I have had a resurgence of people calling out “Whitey!” to me. And several of those have been women. On Sunday, when I was running, a woman stuck her head out a car window and yelled it and the other day, it was a teenage girl in a uniform. This does not phase me anymore. 

Yesterday morning, however, was a little unnerving. There is a fellow who has seen better days (he seems to live in the sewer) who hangs out on the road that’s on my route to work. He usually yells something intelligible to passersby, and always has a few words for me. Yesterday he shouted something along the lines of telling whitey to go back to your country. 

If you have any interest in reflecting on the sensitive topics of race and gender, this country can provide a wealth of experiences. I do believe I am getting a thicker skin, but that doesn’t mean I have stopped thinking about it all. Just the opposite. 

Lately, the Canadian government is all about investing in Jamaica. Defence Minister Peter MacKay was here last week to cut the ribbon on a new maritime safety training centre. Canada will also work more closely with Jamaica to establish this Caribbean country as a hub from which to launch security efforts for the Latin American/ Caribbean area. The Gleaner is lukewarm on the initiative, lauding the partnership’s security aspect, but indicating its skepticism about the potentially negative aspects. Jamaica could become proxy target for terrorists and could also become more involved in the drug trade. From the editorial:

Further, the Caribbean is not immune to other forms of terrorism and could well become proxy victim for our friends and partners, including the United States, Britain and other Western nations, against whom others hold grudges, mostly of dubious merit.

Indeed, there are billions of dollars of US, Canadian and British investment in the Caribbean and millions of their citizens live and/or holiday in the region, where the terrorists may deem them to be soft targets.

While we would expect to get help from our global partners in the face of such crises, domestic forces would have to be the first respondents to the threats, especially with regard to locally inspired problems. However, neither Jamaica nor any partner in the Caribbean Community (CARICOM) has the resources, in terms of personnel or equipment, to effectively defend themselves.We know that these matters are on the agenda and that there exist programmes of regional security cooperation. But perhaps it is time for a security protocol, inclusive of a standing-response arrangement, to be enshrined in the CARICOM treaty to better and formally leverage the resources of member states. The Canadians are good partners to help CARICOM advance this. Canada is not perceived to carry the baggage of some of our other friends.