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Jamaica, Jamaica!
“ ... One Love. One heart. Let’s get together and feel
alright.”
-Robert Nesta Marley
Take a deep breath ...
No, seriously ...
No breath you ever take will be like the one that you take
when you look out over her azure and aquamarine blue waters
or her lush green hills ...
Now, let it out.
No breath you ever let out will be like the one that you let
out when you listen to one of her waterfalls or finally meet
and make friends with just one of her incredible people.
Unless you go there ...
Your lungs will never be filled with the air from that
blessed place like mine have been.
It’s sweeter ...
Thicker ...
Spicier ...
The place I’m speaking of isn’t Heaven .
And it isn’t Utopia ... Or even the Garden of Eden.
If you live anywhere in the United States ... It’s only a
plane ride or two away. And if you’re really lucky, then you
live in the southeastern U.S. and you can get there on a
leisurely cruise ship.
Hear me now ... Once you’ve been there, it stays with you
... inside you ... forever.
You never really leave it ... It never really leaves you. So
even when you are away from her, all you have to do is close
your eyes ... and Breathe.
I’m talking about ... Jamaica!
It’s my favorite place in the whole world ... Bar None.
I love living in west central Florida. The Tampa Bay area,
without a doubt, is one of the coolest places to live in the
country ... in the world possibly.
I haven’t been everywhere, so I’m not qualified to decide
thee coolest place to live in the world. I have however,
been to every state in the continental U.S. as well as 3
Canadian Provinces and Europe. On top of that, I’ve been to
the Bahamas, Saint Lucia, Aruba, Puerto Rico, Barbados,
Turks and Caicos, Trinidad and well ... you get the picture.
I have found wondrous beauty and fascinating people
everywhere I’ve went.
Each island and country ... each state even ... having it’s
own unique people and characteristics that made them a joy
to discover and explore. I’ve left a piece of myself in each
of these destinations and they, in turn, have left a mark on
me as well. All of these places and the people who inhabit
them are in me forever. I can only hope that I’ve left such
a mark in the spots I’ve visited and maybe in some of the
souls that I’ve had the joy of meeting along the way.
Only a few places in my travels have left me with a bad
taste in my mouth. I’ll not name them here. I hate to throw
stones. Besides ... This piece is about JOY!
Remember that word ...
JOY
When you finally arrive in Jamaica, and I don’t mean the
“Touristy-everything-you-see-in-the-travel-ads” Jamaica. I
mean the
“Leave-the-hotel-on-foot-and-walk-down-the-road-for-some-fresh-cut-sugarcane-and-cold-coconut-milk-at-the-roadside-vendor”
Jamaica ... You will discover a joy that you’ve only dreamed
of all your life.
But that’s not all ... While you stand on the edge of that
road ... Be it in Trelawny or Sav-La-Mar, Negril or Port
Antonio and you listen to the tropical breeze in the trees
over your head, chewing on your ‘cane, sipping your coconut
milk ... Something wonderful will happen ...
It will discover you.
Like the sun that gleams in the eyes of her people ...
Like the soft, warm sand between your toes ...
Like her hypnotic rhythms that echo through the air ...
Night and Day.
You see here ... you make friends with these things ...
You have no choice. The people here learned it a century ago
...
You’re here ... enjoy it.
There’s nowhere you have to be ... right now.
Nothing needs to be done ... right now.
I think whomever coined the phrase “Wherever you go, there
you are.” Did so in Jamaica.
I’m rather fond of telling people that “ ... you can have
fun with me in a cardboard box.” What I mean by that is that
I know who I am. I have found myself and am very comfortable
with what I’ve discovered.
Of course, I aspire to have and do more ... But ... I’m not
going to die while I wait.
Someone once said, “No man is an island.”
I disagree ... we are, in our own way, each an island ...
Our world an ocean ...
Who we are is defined by the size and shape of our “island”.
Some are large, with the ability to take on and handle many
tasks and tests. While others are sleek and beautiful to
behold so many “do” for them in return for being allowed to
relish in their beauty. And still others are imposing and
brutal, hiding a fear of what the others have ... know ...
or are capable of doing. This ocean gives us the space we
need to learn and grow, but some would like to consume it
all up in a most awful game of “I, Me, Mine”.
There is much to learn here on this magical isle ...
About life ...
About pain ...
About truth ...
About politics ...
About sorrow ...
About history ...
About strength ...
About passion ...
About injustice ...
About love ...
About perseverance ...
About the rest of the world ...
But, more importantly than any of these things ...
If you don’t just come here to be a tourist ...
You will learn about yourself.
You will discover each other ... You and this beautiful
Island.
Not that being a tourist is a bad thing ... Jamaica’s number
one source of income is tourism. It’s just that when you do
only “touristy” things, you are probably not alone. Nor are
you likely to discover someone who could become a lifelong
friend. Here, being a tourist is to learn about Jamaica, not
being one is to learn about your self ...
The people around your tour, more than likely, will be doing
a job or being a tourist, just like you. There’s nothing
spiritual about riding around on a bus with a bunch of
people taking pictures and asking a lot of questions. One of
the best ways to “discover” who you are, is to be alone ...
not lonely ... Alone.
Listen to your inner voice ... and breathe.
Sometimes couples, close friends or even families come
undone because they fail to give each other the space each
needs to grow. Eventually, their “inner self” regresses
enough to lash out and make this space. Without
understanding why, they have inadvertently driven themselves
apart, all in the name of trying to be “who they are”. When
I read history books, I theorize that this anomaly has
destroyed races and nations ...
Sometimes, we need to be alone. Like wolves or dolphins, we
are, in essence, pack animals. We instinctively hate to be
alone and will go to great lengths to be in another human’s
company. Like some folk’s go to sleep with the radio or T.V.
on, just the sound of another human voice can be comfort
enough to send us blissfully into slumber. The irony here is
that we will also go to great lengths to be alone. Sometimes
the drone of cars, machines and yes, even other people, can
overwhelm us ... clouding or even drowning out our all
important inner voice.
That voice being the entity that is who we are. It is all
seeing ... All understanding ... All hearing ... All loving.
We may not always hear or understand it, but it is what and
who we are ... What we will always be ... Some might call it
the inner child.
And like all other living beings ... it gains knowledge and,
more importantly, experiences ... So, like a child, it must
grow.
The knowledge ...
The memories ... and the wisdom of life that they bring us,
is tangible. These things have substance and mass. We may
repress them ... forget them even. But ... they never go
away. As they amass in our souls, they expand. That is how
we grow. If you are looking for that child, I think you can
find it in Jamaica. If you still know that child and would
like a growth spurt or even a place to start that growth
anew ...
Come to Jamaica ...
I promise you, if you let go of all you think and do at
home, fall into the pace of “Island time” and, most
importantly ... Let her in ... Jamaica will change you
forever.
When you come home from the trip where this happens to you,
you will know. The only way I can describe it is to say that
when you try to reintegrate into the world you’ve always
known, it will be a bit of a task. Believe it or not, you
will actually feel like you’re still there ... In Jamaica.
Breathe ...
From the other side of the fence, the experience is the
same. When you first arrive on her shores, you are still
back where you came from, so to speak. Don’t be ashamed. You
don’t know the difference ... yet.
In your world, you’ve been conditioned to be who and what it
takes to survive. You have your accent and your slang terms,
your favorite foods and your favorite corner store or pub.
All these “learned behaviors” along with your odd
idiosyncrasies and cute little habits make you “You”.
This is exactly where I’ve been going here ... You are only
“You“ when in “your” element ... “You can take the boy out
the neighborhood, but you can’t take the neighborhood out of
the boy” so to speak. But, just being “You” when you are at
home ... in your element, doesn’t mean that you’ve
discovered “You”. In fact, I think that being molded by a
certain place or group of people, a “pack” if you will,
pushes you away from being or knowing the real you and into
a mold built by your surroundings.
Tell me true ...
How many times have you snuck away to the rooftop ...
Or driven alone in the country with the radio off ...
Or just wandered off for a walk ... or a long shower ...
alone? That is your inner-self doing it’s thing ... Growing.
Breathe ...
The solace you feel in those moments is your inner-self
expanding. Relish in it. It is one of the healthiest things
you can do for yourself. That’s where “Island Time” comes
in. While you are used to making a call or driving up the
block to get what you need “right now”; it doesn’t quite
happen that way here. Even in their best resorts. The pace
here is slower, MUCH slower.
It should be ... it has to be. It’s not just a pace ... or a
frame of mind ...
It’s a way of life. You aren’t at home any more. Nothing
happens with the snap of your fingers ... it happens in
three or four snaps ... o.k. , Maybe five or six. Keep
snapping ... when it falls into the beat of the song in the
background unnoticed ... you’re almost there.
The people here learned long ago that slow perseverance will
get you through anything ... and they have been through so
much ... You will just never know ... until you go there. Go
there. And while you’re waiting a little longer on your
cocktail or your food, look around ... think ... and
breathe.
Think about how far away you are from what drove you to come
here in the first place. Think about how far away you are
from work, the kids, the farm, the traffic, the weather, the
cell phone ... and above all ...
Breathe ...
Oh, there’s your cocktail now ... See? That wasn’t so bad
... Was it?
As you linger here, you will get used to it. You will
understand that the Jamaicans aren’t rude or lazy as some of
your ignorant, less open-minded friends who came here before
you have warned that you they are. It isn’t so. These people
who speak badly of all Jamaicans couldn’t grasp the concept
of “Island time” because they were still “at home”. I’ll bet
anything you can name that they never discovered themselves
or Jamaica on their trip. Not just a waste of money ... An
even bigger waste of time. No disrespect to Walter Elias,
but they may as well have went to Disney World ...
Entertainment ... at it’s best.
Self-discovery ... not on your best day.
Here we have yet another irony. If someone you know speaks
badly of the Jamaicans, or calls them rude or lazy, I’ll bet
more of anything you can name that they were the ones who
were crass or “Holier than thou” with the Jamaicans first
... Whining about how long it took to get something or how
long it took for the waitress to take their order or bring
their coffee refill. What they failed to learn is that that
isn’t the way things work here ...
“Island Time” prevails.
“Soon come, Mon” ... And soon it will come ... Mon.
But while you wait ... Breathe.
What’s your hurry anyway? The beach isn’t going anywhere ...
nor is the waterfall up the road or the open-air market
downtown. Now maybe the Reggae festival does start at sunset
or maybe it’s even that very sunset that you’re trying to
off rush to ... but remember, “When in Rome, do as the
Romans do.” So it’s your fault, not the Jamaican waitresses
fault, that you are now waiting in “Island Time” for your
drink or your food. Still more irony: More often than not,
these people speak rudely to the Jamaicans first and then
run home to tell it the other way around.
Breathe ...
Don’t rush anything here ... it defeats the purpose. Trust
me, I’ve been here more than twenty times. I’ve been almost
everywhere on the island. I drive when I come here. That is
another story for another time. I’ve sat in the hills of
cockpit country; I’ve eaten cherries, yes cherries, in a
man’s yard in the high country near Savannah-Del-Mar with my
friend John Swaby. The Jamaicans call it “Sav-la-mar”. I’ve
driven the high road over the Blue Mountains from “Town”
(Kingston) all the way to “Mobay” (Montego Bay). It was
absolutely breathtaking.
The first time I went to Jamaica, I went by myself. I’ve
always been the adventurer. But I had no idea what I was in
for. I stayed two days in Mobay at the Wexford Hotel on
Gloucester Ave, and then I went out to Negril for four more
days at Hedonism II. In Mobay, I wandered over to Walter’s
Bar and Grill for a Red Stripe or a Dragon Stout and maybe a
bowl of Pumpkin soup. During those two nights partying in
the hot spots down by the water, I kept finding myself back
at Walter’s trying to escape the loud goings-on.
I had heard so much about Negril (and its even slower pace)
that I woke up on the third morning, packed up my stuff and
went down to the street to get a cab. Two hours and
seventy-five bucks later, I was at Hedonism. I was so drunk
by the time I got there that the desk clerk took my bags and
told me to go hit the buffet so I could “ ... wake up a
likle”. Well, I used to be somewhat of a professional
drinker and I walked right past the food to the world famous
“all-you-can-drink” bar and proceeded to drink some more ...
When I woke up (read: came to) the next morning, I was in a
hammock down by the beach of the hotel. There was a security
guard asking me if I was all right. He’d noticed that I
wasn’t wearing my room key around my neck or my wrist and he
wondered if I was the “missing” gentleman from the night
before ( I didn’t have one, as I’d not checked in yet!). I
silently hoped I wasn’t in trouble ... I told him I was
indeed the “missing” guy. The eight beer glasses (five
empty, three full) in the sand around my hammock told him
the rest of the story. He didn’t ask for an explanation. I
tried to gather up the glasses to clean up my mess and he
told me that I didn’t have to worry “ ... bout dem tings
here.” He just smiled and showed me the way to the front
desk.
The Jamaicans are not rude. They are some of the most
friendly, inviting people in the world. Now get this, not
only was all my cash still intact in my pocket and my
luggage safe behind the front desk ... they wouldn’t let me
pay for my stay in the hammock or the free beer ... They
said they loved taking care of me and that was that. He
checked me into a room and the rest of my adventure began.
(I wish I could remember what happened after I got there!
The whole time I was at Hedonism, the staff smiled and
whispered when they saw me coming.) Try that at the Times
Square Marriott or the Los Angeles Four Season’s!
In those next few days, I met a Rastapharian cabby outside
the gate of the hotel; his name was Rasta Errol. He was so
cool; he took me to Rick’s Café and he almost died when he
watched me jump from the cliffs there. (He didn’t think I
would do it.) I could see the whites of his widened eyes
forty feet below me as he watched me jump. Later, he took me
to little food shops and roadside stands. The next day, he
took me up into the hills of cockpit country to see ...
Well, “Tings” (Read: illegal “Tings”).
But the best part of it all was that he let me just “Hang”.
I’d sit at the cabstand with him and try to understand the
banter of Patois between him and some of the other locals.
They’d constantly reassure me that they weren’t talking
about me and I’d reassure them I wasn’t paranoid. (This
filled them with laughter. You see? Jamaican people are not
rude!) We ran errands for his wife, fixed his car, he even
took me around to meet some of his family ... All for no
charge. He could see that I wasn’t trying to be a tourist.
He truly appreciated my being “real”, but more importantly,
he respected it. I even rode along with some of his fares. I
didn’t care; the guy needed to feed six kids!
I guess growing up in a tourist mecca like Florida; you get
used to not being a tourist. Life in Florida is pretty laid
back, so just hanging around in Jamaica seemed pretty
natural to me. I wanted to eat her food, know her people,
her customs, her language and her culture ... I wanted to
know her.
While I was there I did just that, I found all those things
... and they found me ... I also found myself ... I was
comfortable to just “be” there ... And, I learned ...
anywhere else for that matter.
Evryting Cris’ ...
Evryting Irie ...
No problem Mon ...
She had found me ...
When I came back from that trip I was different. My friends
said so. My family said so. My girlfriend said so. I had a
little trouble keeping up with things because, like I said
before, I was still there ... in Jamaica.
It wasn’t until seven years later that I could go back. I
would hear the commercials or listen to some reggae and long
to be back there, but fate had dealt me some blows ... I had
neither the time nor the wherewithal to go back. It was
bearable though ... all I had to do was close my eyes and
... breathe.
If the Island, for some reason, doesn’t sink into your soul
like it has mine, then I promise you her people surely will.
The Jamaican motto is “Out of many, One people.” I think
this should be the motto for the whole planet. But, leave it
to the Jamaicans to come up with it first. This tiny island,
one-hundred and twenty-two miles long, fifty-two miles wide
has changed and educated many people and things on this huge
planet ... Think not? Try some of these things out and then
tell me what you think ...
Reggae Music ... A style recognized and adored the world
over.
Jamaica Blue Mountain Coffee ... Arguably the finest,
definitely one of the rarest coffee’s in the world.
James Bond ... Ian Fleming drew this invincible spy’s name
from a Jamaican book and penned all these stories at his
home in Jamaica!
Getting the idea?
Good, because I could fill this page with people and things
that are everyday words in the rest of the world that have
somehow emanated out of this tiny little island nation in
one way or another ... What an energy!
The first time I wandered into the square in downtown Mobay,
I will never forget the first thing I noticed. Now, I don’t
have to tell you that times are tough here. More people here
are “have-not’s” than there are “do-have’s”. But when you go
there, sit down while you’re waiting for a drink and watch
the “pickny’s” (children). They play and laugh on every
street. You’ll see them on the side of the road and at the
seaside. A lot of them have never owned a pair of shoes or a
matching outfit in their whole lives. Most of them have
never owned a bicycle, or woke up on Christmas morning to a
tree with tons of presents under it. It’s not that they miss
these things per se’ ... it’s that they are children ... And
like the inner child inside of you, it doesn’t really matter
to them. Coveting things is a learned behavior.
From their youth they learn to discover themselves ...
without the trappings of western “civilization”.
This is something that the Jamaicans and a lot of other less
“blessed” nations have up on all of us supposedly “more
prosperous” nations ... We merely assume that they are
ignorant ... they know that we are! Most of us are so
arrogant that we miss this entirely ... Thinking that
because they are not as “well off” as we are, that some how
they are inferior and we are superior.
HA!
I’ll tell you what ... In a battle scenario where all
combatants were unarmed and had to survive the fight through
wit, ingenuity, perseverance and intuition, I’d take an army
of Jamaicans over the best trained soldiers in the world ...
Any time ... Every time.
And we would win that battle.
The thing that struck me so hard in the square that day was
the pickny’s smiles. No matter where you see them, no matter
what you see them up to, you will almost always see them
doing one thing ... Smiling. They are content. I’m sure they
aspire to do and have more like everyone else ... But as I
said before ... they know they are not going to die while
they wait.
That is the biggest lesson that Jamaica has to share with
many of us. It is a badly needed lesson, indeed. We take so
much for granted. We take each other for granted. Come to
Jamaica and see what it’s like to have a “tough life” and
then go home and see if it doesn’t make you appreciate all
the comforts that we so readily have right here at our
disposal ...
Like shoes ...
Running water ...
Telephones, TVs, dishwasher’s, microwaves ...
Air conditioning ...
Not that there aren’t many who do have some, most or all of
these things here in Jamaica but ... There are far too many
who do not ...
Tell you what ...
How ‘bout you let me and my buds come by your house and take
all these things away from you for a week ... o.k. ? Then,
let us drop back by and rudely whine and complain when you
don’t bring our cocktail or our second cup of coffee when we
thought you should bring it!
Would you feel a little rude ... or dare I say it ... angry?
An old Native American saying dictates: “Do not judge a
brave until you have walked for a day in his moccasins.” I
have never walked in the shoes of a Jamaican. But I have
met, worked and hung around with enough of them to know that
I love and respect them with all my heart. They don’t need
your pity. Trust me, they don’t want it. They are as proud a
people as any.
But, they are also very misunderstood by so many people.
People who probably will never make friends with their own
inner child ...
Or understand “Island Time” ...
Or Joy ...
Or for that matter ... Themselves.
Now close your eyes ... and breathe.
Come ... and find Joy ...
Come ... and find that inner child ...
Come ... and find yourself ...
Come to Jamaica ...
Let her discover you.
-Jeff Gaines
October 14th &15th, 2002
Port Richey, Florida.
(Wishing he was up on Richmond Hill!)
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