3. Hip Hop and Headlines
A singular piece of news that would change the entire outcome of the trip. One word. Nine letters. A thousand thoughts consume my mind...
Part 1: Big News
Part 2: Nursery Chronicles
Part 3: Debrief + Dinner
Part 1: Big News
Imagine this, you're in a new place, you've travelled 4,649 miles on your own, you're sleep-deprived, hot, nervous, yet full of adrenaline and excitement when the joker of the group utters the words you don't want to hear when your travelling. “Um girls, have you checked your emails recently”, Jess says. “Emails?- What are you talking about Jess?”. I say laughing. “No really- listen to this” she says in a monotone voice. I sit down, and she begins to read aloud...
The Email I received less than 24 hours in the country
Now, as you can imagine, I was not a happy girl. In fact, I have my mouth open wide, face like 😮. I'm sorry, let's just break this down. Buzz words here- 'Hurricane warning', 'Much of the southeast Caribbean', 'Jamaican Government', 'Emergency supplies', 'Depart the programme'. These words swirled around in my head like a bad pop song on Capital. Yes, this is certainly NOT the news you want to discover precisely ten hours into a solo trip.
Did we panic? Yes. Did I almost freak out and cry? Yes, of course. Did we stay strong, and work as a team to come up with a plan of action to overcome this natural disaster? No, of course not. We were all shattered. The only plan we had was to sleep! And plus, in the words of the email, the 'situation was not yet confirmed'. I laid in bed, wrapped in a mosquito net, tonnes of sticky repellent covered my skin while crickets walled outside my window almost mocking me. The darkness of the room loomed over me and the thoughts rushed in. Wow, I really was so far away from home, I thought to myself.
It was now the AM, Jamaican time. I woke up with the events of the day before feeling like a weird dream. Sweating in bed and with sleep in my eyes I got up. The reality slaps me very quick but I was determined to brush it off. So what do I do? Well, got up, got dressed and went to orientation with my new girl gang to find out more.
We walked outside taking in all the sounds and the sights of the bright green palm trees which loomed over above us guiding us towards our little bar. The wild animals chirped around us. This was it, our little home.
Our Little Jamaican Bar
Our bar was our place. A place of discussions, lessons and meeting points. It was open and shaded from the blazing sun. Solar lights covered the top and every breed of bug lurked on the floor. We all sat down and officially met our Local Contact Jade. She gave us the rundown, the information the facts and expectations. The safety briefings, Jamaican Culture explanations, security rules, volunteer placement information and of course the upcoming news on our lovely hurricane Beryl who was on her way. Our hurricane updates would be later confirmed. But for now....
New characters unlocked 🔐
Sasha, a young and fun American and her mum, bright, bubbly and bold. And what's that? ANOTHER character? Michael. A local Jamaican was hired by the company to take us to our placement. He had black leather trousers, a bandana, and a cool trim with a big smile on his face. Then just like that- it was time to go out into the wild and I can't lie, I was NERVOUS! We cross the road and after about 30 seconds, a route taxi appears!
ALERT 🚨 Educational Moment...
Now, It's important you get into the correct taxi type for well, obvious reasons. When looking for a taxi, it needs a red number plate. These route taxis are the local taxis making it the cheapest form of transportation. To put it into context, a 5-10 minute taxi ride would cost JA$400. And that equates to around £1.94. Yep, one pound ninety-four.
Now, the taxi journey was a unique experience. Imagine the sensation of an oven, it preheating, your sweating- and what's that, a person is squeezed into you. And oh what's that, there's someone on the other side of you too? One word here- Sardines. Route taxis are like that. It's horrific, your personal space does not exist. So, feeling like a squished pear with my face almost pressed against the glass window, we arrived at our placement.
Part 2: Nursery Chronicles
At this point, my little legs were quaking with excitement. I walk up to a building that's just off the main road, minute in size, yet colourful, warm and bright. The letters on the outside were painted on the outside of the building. Alphabets, numbers, shapes, an artistic expression that quite simply captivates you. I walk closer noticing metal rods on the outside of the nursery, acting as a fence so air would flow through. We walk in and many eyes are gazing at me. The children's faces light up with excitement, and I wave, smiling. Children aged three months to four years were sitting and lying on a singular peeling mat. The nursery carer was also sitting on the matt - Auntie they called her.
There were no instructions here, no way of knowing what we were supposed to do or any information about how we were supposed to be. The room was small and the air was thick. Sounds of crying, tip-taps of tiny footsteps and shouting filled the room. All the kids were fighting for attention, fighting for love. I look around seeing the three broken toys attempting to be shared between the twelve kids.
Moments later a child grabs my hand and places a chewed-up ball in my hand. I roll it towards him and the next thing I know we're passing it back and forth, he's smiling. I'm smiling. I'm in a Jamaican nursery, in a tiny room and I've got this child's only source of entertainment in my hands and he was sharing it with me. There was something so peaceful in that, something so pure. These kids had almost nothing, but each shared everything with me. The whole experience was surreal. I had Michael, our leader waiting outside in the heat all afternoon for us, I had Phoebe and Sasha with me in the room and I had twelve tiny humans who needed our attention.
My favourite photo on the trip
The only photo I could capture was one of my favourites from the trip. This moment, in this photo, was the most surreal and heart-fuzzy moment. I held this baby in my arms who had the biggest most beautiful eyes. All the stresses, all the planning, money spent, and hurricane drama were all worth it for this very moment. This baby needed my love- and a part of me needed his. I remember sitting here for some time, enjoying all the sounds around me, all the chaos of the children and the peace of the culture. I felt safe here. I was taking in all the differences, the minimal resources and using creativity to keep these children entertained and happy.
After a few hours in the nursery, it was time to leave. Michael then brought us out into the town of Ocho Rios to show us around. It was my first time in 'Ochie' as they called it.
I was so scared to go into town. The town is where danger was, men who were more aggressive than back home were and I was clearly not from around here. The grey clouds looming over our heads symbolised my inner thoughts. Terror. I was experiencing the Jamaican locals for the first time. We got out the taxi and I immediately felt eyes on me.
However, quite quickly the stares were guarded by Michaels's presence, and I was safe with him. But quite quickly, I realised I was in the minority. That feeling a white person hasn't ever been able to fully understand. That my physical appearance made me more vulnerable. The assumptions and stereotypes that would follow- all of that was swirling around in my brain. Luckily, attention was diverted as Michaels's presence captivated locals and I wasn't sure why. My biggest thing on this trip was intuition and while this wasn't alarming, I wanted to work out what was going on.
We stopped in the park and I got chatting. He shared so much about Jamaican life, his life. I learnt about a local Wasp that would blow up your skin if bitten. I learned about his adventures and the fun things that grow on trees here. I also worked out the real reason Michael was so popular on the streets. And no don't worry, it wasn't anything dodgy, in fact- quite the opposite. As it turns out, he was a dancer, and a good one and everyone knew it. Next thing I know, we're dancing on the streets and I'm filming his content for his Instagram stories (goose_tookool on Instagram).
The tour was amazing, I felt so free, so receptive to all the energies and cultures of this world. It was day one and I had done so much. The placement, the dancing, the streets, the travelling around town, the learning- it was all so liberating. The worries of the upcoming hurricane were forgotten. The teachings of Jamaican life were already taking over my mindset. The dualiality, the juxtaposition of fear and joy battled in my mind. Island life was teaching me to seek joy- even in the face of unchangeable uncertainty and it was only day one.
Jerk Chicken, Coconut Rice and a Side Salad with fresh fruit punch- delightful.
Part 3: Debrief + Dinner
Then came one of my favourite memories. Our first girl dinner and debrief at our little bar. We all gathered to eat together and talk about our days. It was like a little family. I already felt like I had a home here.
Dinner? No problem, as I paid for the meal plan on the programme, I had no idea what I was going to get. That was the fun. To try the local food. Experience the spices and flavours and wow it did not disappoint. It was an area where I could switch my brain off and not have to think.
New character unlocked 🔐
Samantha, our wonderful team leader who prepared the most incredible meal for us. We were all so hungry. I was so excited to know what kind of food we’d be having. It was like Christmas in food form!
The six of us sat exhausted, exhilarated and ecstatic, devouring our first meal. We discussed experiences, exchanged thoughts and laughed taking everything in. With the sights of the palm trees surrounding me and the hot air, the first day had been a success. I had made it.
Cynthia in her pink barbie dreamhouse
Post dinner we all headed back inside as darkness fell at 18:30 here. And once darkness falls, things get a whole lot scarier. So, myself and the girls walked Cynthia to her Barbie dream house and left her to her slumber. At this point we were inside for the night winding down, munching on mango and ravishing a local red stripe beer when the conscious decision was made to check the news for any hurricane updates.
Let me tell you, the outcome of this fascination was not a good one. In fact, it was a truly terrifying one. Curiosity got the better of me and reality was coming at us quicker than expected. The luxury of having a phone and WIFI to connect us back home came with a cost. We were privileged to have information access but were now consumed by the understanding of what was going to happen next. News articles and headlines surrounded my phone. It dawned on me that I was going to have to share this news with my loved ones back home.
Headlines of Hurricane Beryl
Articles from the 2nd July - the day before the big hit
July 2nd
The feelings these headlines bring are indescribable. I was going to have to make a decision soon. Do I stay and risk potential life-threatening danger or do I go home and potentially regret leaving so soon? It was one of those decisions that would affect my entire timeline of reality. The kind of decision that I might look back at and later regret. The kind of decision that would lead to Jess- the most gorgeous, joyful and lovely girl to leave us.
How do you tell your loved ones that a Category 5 hurricane was planning on hitting us directly? How do you let those words out of your mouth without crying?
Curious?
Stay tuned for more.
Muahs,
Evie xoxo
