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. 

It is Holy Thursday today so I have the day off, as well as Friday and Monday. This morning I got some groceries as we are off to Treasure Beach early tomorrow. Apparently this is one of the busiest shopping weekends of the year. It seemed that way at Brooklyn’s Supermarket this morning. Everyone was buying Easter Buns. They are essentially a large, rectangular fruit cake. I tried it the other day and then was given one at work and again from the Cuso office. I gave mine to Miss Monica, the security guard, and another woman at work as I could not fathom that I would ever be able to eat an entire Bun. This afternoon, I am waiting. Waiting for the cable guy. He called at 8am to ask for directions. I am starting to get a vague idea of where I am, but trying to explain it to a Jamaica is difficult because of the different accents and my lack of sense of direction. But I do know that I am centrally located near several major hotels. I tried to explain to the cable guy but we were getting nowhere. I asked him if he had Google maps or something similar. “Nah we don’t got anyting like dat,” he said. What? Who doesn’t have Google maps? He probably just meant in his van, I hope. We finally reached a successful conclusion when I mentioned one of the hotels. So he promised to be here between 12 and five. I’m just lucky I have the day off. So now I’m waiting…something I am not good at. I’m reading and watching television etc and listening to the music blasting from the high school next door. This morning it was gospel, then a bit of White Stripes, then some 50s classics, now some hardcore dancehall. Very random. They seem to have music and live DJs blaring from the school all day- I wonder what kind of high school it is? Anyway, Happy Easter!

UPDATE: They just arrived, two of them. Then promptly left to get the right cables. Fingers crossed.

UPDATE2: It was a two-man job and they forgot their screwdriver but were ultimately successful. Yes!

Here in Jamaica, this means something may happen, sometime in the near to far future, maybe. This applies to the cable company coming to hook my cable up. Finally, they have promised to be here Thursday from 12-5 pm. Let’s hope. I don’t mind the slower pace of life here, and I don’t miss TV so much, but no reliable Internet/Skype is disconcerting.

The past two days at work have been great. I have done some editing, brainstorming and lots of researching. I attended my first weekly staff meeting, which began with a rousing prayer. I also signed the tripartite agreement between myself, YOU and Cuso, which means everything is official now. In a month, I must come up with a work plan that details, well, my plans for work. Having been a freelancer for several years now, it is a refreshing change to be part of a team, with a boss and coworkers and a common goal. Being a reporter is such an independent career, which I enjoy, but it can be lonely.

Today, we had a group of students from West Carolina University visit the YOU offices to get a sense of what we do. Mrs. Scott did a presentation and introduced all the staff. We served them traditional Jamaican snacks like tamarind, coconut drops, cheese and bun and plantain and sweet potato chips. Yummy! During this part of the presentation, two young boys in their khaki school uniforms named Kashief and Tyrese performed a dub poetry piece. It is hard to describe, but the passion and conviction they exhibited brought tears to my eyes.

We then took an extensive tour of several impoverished neighbourhoods, an opportunity most visitors to Kingston do not have. I feel conflicted about these tours- sometimes it feels like we are intruding, but sometimes the residents are delighted to welcome us. In any case, it is always fascinating to see the different environments in which people live. Finally, we ended the day at a community centre where some youth did a drumming demonstration for us. It was amazing, especially when it turned into a jam session with the American students. 

I will end this post with a dilemma: Mr. Fraser, one of the three security guards at my building, who is very kind, is insisting I join him to do some exercises on the beach before sunrise. We usually talk before I go for a run early in the morning and I guess he wants to help me train…hmmmm, not sure what to say but I think I will stick with my runs in Emancipation Park.

Second day of work. I took the coaster, leaving around 730, to get to work around 830. The bus stop is a five-minute walk from my apartment. So I get there and based on the advice of my colleagues, I’m supposed to identify the bus I need by guys yelling “Crossroads!”- my destination. Along comes a coaster- picture a minivan packed with people, music blaring and careening through rush hour traffic at about 60km/hour. On this particular morning, there is literally room to squeeze in one person, standing on the step up, with the door open. That person was me. I felt adventurous, so I hopped on, grasping the railing and praying I didn’t fly out and roll into traffic. I did get a couple of light elbows in the face but when some space opened up, the wranglers ushered me up onto the main floor and away from the open door. It was an experience. Then I had an uneventful 15-minute walk to work. Uneventful walks here are rare, it was nice and relatively peaceful, save for the constant beeping of horns. (Seriously, there is an extensive vocabulary of horn honks here.) 

This morning, we had a lovely young woman named Pamela come to sell us fresh fruit, straight from the trees and ground. I bought a papaya (called paw-paw here), a banana and two Jamaican apples. Yummy, and all for less than $2.00.

At YOU today (my workplace) there was a graduation ceremony for inner-city youth who have just completed a training program in new media. The program trains the youth with hard skills as well as the soft skills needed for the workplace. The staff was preparing for this event and I got to help out. The ceremony was incredible. Dozens of Jamaican youth, so energetic and dressed in their best clothes, beaming with pride. The master of ceremonies also singled me and a fellow volunteer Delphine out to the crowd, which was slightly mortifying. But it was all for a good cause, as she told the youth that people do care about them, including me and Delphine, who came from Canada to volunteer. It was a great way to learn more about what YOU actually does and that it is an organization that has a real impact.

Today marked my first run away from the track at Emancipation Park. This means running on the sidewalk, in the city. This is definitely a unique running experience. As Britta, Fred and I walked home last night in the dark, I remarked that it felt like we were in some kind of video game in which you are constantly dodging obstacles. In this case, it is uneven sidewalks, sidewalks that end abruptly for no apparent reason, slow-walking people, child-size potholes, motorcycles going 100km/h, fast-moving cars (there is no other kind in Jamaica), metal rods poking out of the sidewalk, fallen power lines, tree stumps, random posts, honking coasters and taxis, taxi drivers that offer you a ride and strangers calling whatever’s on their mind. So not only is running a physical challenge, but a mental one as well. A few times I wanted to look up and around at my new surroundings, but realized this is not safe. Eyes on the sidewalk!

But I survived and actually enjoyed it. One thing I will have to get used to is the attention. Jamaicans do not even like to walk, and this is a statement that leads to a caveat I have for this blog: when I state that Jamaicans like or do not like something or are all a certain way, I realize that this is a generalization. I am quite uncomfortable with this, but have decided that I am going to generalize based on my experiences and if they add up to a trend, I feel safer making this statement.

So returning to my generalization: Jamaicans do not like to walk. At all. When they do, it is extremely slowly. Some do like exercising, it appears, as I am in good company running in Emancipation Park. But even there, most are at a decidedly slow pace. As a result, a white girl running along the congested sidewalks seems to be an anomaly. People stare, give me funny looks and make comments. I will have to get used to this. 

Other random experiences from the run this morning: I ran by the U.S. Embassy, which already had a lineup of people outside, presumably waiting to address immigration issues. Walk signals do not exist here, or at least they are severely rationed. So to cross, you sort of have to walk into traffic where it is calmest, then wait in the middle of the road to complete the procedure. Running here will involve lots of stops and starts, I think.

Tomorrow is the first day of work for me! Wish me luck.