Taxi Tales

BEST FRIENDS … TAXI and CELL PHONE

While it may sound like strange friends, for me, when either is gone, I am isolated and alone.

My ticket to moving about on the island is always a minimum of three taxis or combo of taxis and busses. What looks like what may be a typical street scene with parked vehicles, is really a string of taxis in Gayle – my closest hub with grocery, internet café, and taxis. This scene is replicated in many towns, unless there is a“bus park or taxi area” – and where the taxis or buses are parked,determines where they are going (Ocho Rios, Jeffrey Town, Port Maria, etc.).

Taxis line the streets, and taxi drivers hail those passing by to see if they want a ride to X, Y, Z?

From inside the taxi, we wait patiently, until they are filled … and we watch the streets (or for me, I discover the local gossip, hear political or religious views, or discover the happenings of the area.

Got up early to catch one of the series of taxis necessary to get to
the JAS Jamaican Agriculture Society meeting ...should have been 4
taxis, but because I thought I should accompany the elder Mr. Blake,
and allowed him to lead ... it was 6 ... that was the start. We set a
record right off with taxi 2 - from Gail to Rio Nueva, as 13 managed
to get in for the winding ride. 5 in front (includes driver), 6 in
back, and 3 more behind the seat space ...next to me was the amazingly
beautiful pickney (child) about 6 or 7 in her crisp school uniform, on
her mother's lap. As the taxi wound up and down and swerved to avoid
potholes, she smiled at me and placed her hand on my arm. There it
rested for the duration, as did her smile.  From there it went into a
series of non-communications from Mr. Blake as to where to get off (I
would have been better off going on my own), and at one point we were
walking back to where we were to catch another taxi, and I was not
paying attention and tripped on a pot hole - wham, and down -- my left
knee and arm caught most of the fall, my computer bag helped my chest
from scraping against the pavement. I got up, brushed off the debris,
and could see that the knee was bleeding through my nice yellow pants.
Oh Well ...

Alas we get to our destination after a few more guffaws ... and I found
soap in the bathroom ... a rare treat, and was able to wash my pants
clean (forget about the crease), and the breeze was strong enough to
dry in on my body within a short time. ...

fast forward, the meeting went too long, but I am getting to know
folks, and had some conversations while there ... and I went to the
library for free internet (the only library that has wireless, and
allows you to bring in your own computer) - Port Maria. There I met
Vinai, and Robert (Jamaican Ag instructor from Woodford days)....we
went off to have a drink and talk / laugh about much ... and home I
went  ... three taxi's later, when I am home, I realize my phone is not
with me. I borrow Pops (house father) phone to call my cell, and it
goes to voicemail after one call. Pops says ... it is gone, it has
been stolen, and the credit / minutes have been transferred to another
phone.  OK ... I am really bummed. I use Pops phone to call my project
partner Dawnie and ask her to call Boops, the taxi driver to see if it
is in the taxi from Gayle to home ... and Dawnie seldom has minutes on
her phone (thank you poverty), so I know I am imposing. She does call
Boops, and no, it is not in the taxi. She calls back Pops and says it
isn't there ... so now I know it is likely in the taxi from Rio Nueva
to Gayle, and I don't know that driver. We call my phone again, and
again it goes to voicemail, so I am really bummed...and feeling like I
am somewhere in the universe, on my own, and totally disconnected.

I call Peace Corps, and they advise that I will need to replace my
phone, and if it is theft, can file a claim. I will be able to get my
sim card pre-programmed with all Peace Corps numbers replaced if I
have my paperwork ... good, I do, and my phone number will be the same.

I go to sleep with my knee healing, and my chest likely got a bruise
from the computer bag ... but I wasn't planning on sleeping much
anyway, as today I needed to go to Ocho Rios to replace my phone.  Off
I go at 7 am ... and my supervisor says ... your phone is ringing, so
it may not be stolen. Who was the driver? - if you can chat with him,
maybe he has it. I don't know his name, but know I can recall his
face, so decide to hang out in Gayle at the gas station where the
taxis gather on their routes. It wasn't long, and we spotted each
other, smiled, and I asked if anyone turned in my cell phone. No, was
his response. He opened the back door, and nope, none on the floor ...
then pulled up the back seat, and WOW! there was my best friend - my
cell phone - I cannot tell you how happy I am now. I take the money
from my pocket that was set aside for taxi rides to and from Ochi
($400 Jamaican Dollars) ... and give it to him. He's happy. Mostly, I
am happy because I have renewed faith in humanity. I walked over to
the police station (I tend to stop by and chat with them whenever I am
in Gayle). I asked if anyone ever brings in good news... No, was the
response, so I told them my story of the great taxi driver ...

my internet time is up ... hope you enjoyed this as much as I did ...
forgot to tell you the worst part - which is I tend to call Billee
nightly, and planned to ... but knew I couldn't use Pops phone for the
international call ... and knew I could not get word to her, and the
word wasn't good last night. I hoped she understood, and would not
worry ...I think part of my hope was realized, but worry she did...

and so it goes ... how to survive in rural Jamaica when your best
friend is a little black plastic box that is difficult to hear disappears?

Take a walk with me

Take a walk with me, and see what I see.…

 

As you leave my site and walk up a hill to the next town  - there is a ‘Welcome’ sign.

All the roads in the deep rural area, and much of Jamaica are in poor condition:

The views can be spectacular, enjoyed by goats, chickens, and whomever occupies the road …

My view next door – (center) a new SDA (Seventh Day Advent) Church being constructed, next to a small house on left. The SDA separated from it’s former self due to irreconcilable differences (I am told) right.

Down the road a bit – an old abandoned church – which no one seems to know the history or much history of the towns in general …

Shops and restaurants are everywhere – they open and close with regularity – both of these are closed.

Looking up in trees will often see someone harvesting (left) … or fruiting nutmeg…

Houses of all sizes and shapes … look up, down and over there … one with a ‘for sale’ sign …

And often the houses will have the graves of their ancestry in front, on the side or rear of the house …

Unknown purple flowers, and Chin Chin Tree. . .  a separate post (soon come) of the amazing blooms in the area …

Pencils Updates

The Pencils are reaching their destination: THANK YOU TO ALL WHO HAVE SENT PENCILS, ERASERS, SHARPENERS, and CRAYONS & BOOKS! We are preparing for Jamaica’s 50^th year of independence celebration in August, and these will make excellent ‘back to school’ items.

Principal of Mt. Angus Primary and Junior High, St Mary Parish,  is happy to have pencils to share when students ask for them (a loan program). 

Challenge to UW-Madison and all the Bucky fans – Don’t let Jamaica down –Match the 300 pencils donated by UC Davis!      

Other pencils received are on their way with other Peace Corps Volunteers. Between the 35 in my group (Group 83), and approximate same number in Group 82, the pencils are finding their way to volunteers throughout the island.  We are working directly with the schools, and the primary goal is to have a loan program, where students who need a pencil can borrow one, and then return it when they are finished using it.

Mt Angus School is about a 10 minute walk from where I live – especially if I go over the hill and through the woods, rather than the road. It is also the local shelter should a hurricane decide to visit. I am told that several hurricanes have come through, and Mt. Angus School has survived.

I am working with the agriculture program at the school, and have not yet decided about working with the reading or computer program. I find the principal to be an amazing, caring individual, actively involved in the community, and very grateful to have the pencils for students who lose their pencils, or parents cannot replace them.

Clearing the school garden (corn); prepping area for planting a cover crop: