Weeks Ten and Eleven plus Bonus Commentary

Greetings once again from MoBay!

This will be my last on-island post for a while, as I am flying home today for my 3-week break before coming back here for the summer. I came back from JDV last Friday here to MoBay and I have been taking it pretty easy ever since. In the absence of work teams and kids here (the kids just now got back form their 2-week spring break), I have been reading, doing laundry, cleaning (very lightly, at least), playing soccer, and playing on my computer (I cannot beat the computer in chess, I am 0-15). Now that the kids have arrived back, I have spent most of my time hanging out with them.

My last week at JDV was quite an adventure as a very strange young woman from Indiana named Tamara R. (sorry, Tamara, I will get your last name later, I think it starts with an "R", though) came to visit Erin Davis (a full-time missionary who works at the CCCD school at Knockpatrick) and Blake (see previous post for info on this turkey). Tamara was here last summer doing what I am doing now and came for a week to visit all the friends she made during her time here. Though I had not met Tamara before last week, the three of them allowed me to tag along with them on their excursions, let me ride in the front seat, fed me M&M's, let me ride in the back seat, questioned my intelligence, laughed at my bad jokes, laughed at my good jokes, and did not hit me with their handbags, for which I was most grateful. As we all have very, uhhhhh, dynamic personalities it definitely made for an, ummmm, interesting week. But beyond all of the thinly veiled (and thickly applied) sarcarsm and insults, a good time was had by all.

During the week, I had my first visit to Knockpatrick (only about a half hour from JDV), my second visit to YS Falls (though I got too lazy to actually get in the waterfalls this time), my first visit to Little Ochi (a delicious seafood restaurant on the south side of the island), and my first visit to the city of Kingston (and the CCCD school therein).

Though the entire week was filled with copious amounts of new stimuli, my moment of paramount astonishment occurred while driving to Kingston. I believe it is about an hour and half drive from JDV (though that may be off, I'm not the most observant person). About 40 minutes into our drive Erin and Blake kept saying, “We're coming up to the highway soon.” In my mind, this mean a road with 2 lanes on either side, with minimal stops, side roads accessing the highway perpendicularly, and a speed limit around 55 m.p.h. Much to my amazement, the road that we were on eventually transformed into a bona-fide Yankee-style freeway, complete with on-ramps, over-passes, smooth asphalt, and speed limits similar to those on I-75. In discussion of the highway, someone at JDV had quipped, “That is a part of Jamaica we don't tell teams about”, as the ride from MBJ airport to JDV is akin to riding the Mean Streak roller coaster at Cedar Point, for two and a half hours.

Although most of my final week at the village was spent on leisurely endeavors, I did actually do a little bit of work. Just before Easter, Chad asked me to start working on a new logo for the Jamaica Deaf Village (substantially modify the existing logo, rather). The idea is that this logo will be printed onto the labels that will be sewn into the sewing products that are made at the village. JDV employs a few of the residents to work in the sewing building, where they make beach bags, among other neat items. I took on the job with great enthusiasm, as I love working on graphic design projects, though I am by no means a professional.

After about sixteen hours of creating a basic design, adjusting fonts, learning and relearning aspects of Adobe Illustrator, adjusting the design shape, adjusting the design elements, adjusting the colors, and formatting, I finally settled on a design. Well, two designs. The hand shape means "I Love You" and was Chad's idea.

Version A: I really like how this came out.

My only concern is that is might be too busy and

colorful for a small fabric label.

Version B: This version will be easier

to modify into designs with fewer colors and detail.

Though I told Chad I will absolutely adjust the design in any way that he sees fit, I was pretty happy with the final product. If you like the logo and want to congratulate me, feel free to send a Snickers bar to Mason, where will pick it up next week and eat it with a cold glass of milk. If you do not like the logo, please send me an email with the subject line: “What (Your Name) Thinks About the JDV Logo”. This will help me immensely, as I will be able to delete your email without having to read it, saving precious moments that can and will be used to eat Snickers bars. Thanks!

The stories and ideas I have shared about in my blog thus far have all been in chronological order, but there has inevitably been a buildup of stories that I forgot to share, events that were totally unrelated to stories in previous blog posts, ideas that have spanned multiple weeks, and thoughts that I have only now been able to verbalize, but have existed in my subconscious for quite some time. Since I cannot conjure an eloquent transition into nor between any of these stories and thoughts, I am just going to dive right in like a pool of jello.

Just over a month ago, a boat called the Logos Hope Book Ship was at port here in MoBay. The ship was here for two or three weeks, allowing anybody to come on board and look at the massive Christian bookstore inside, after paying a small fee. During my first trip to the beach here, I met Liam and Kara, two of the Logos' younger passengers/residents. Liam, age 9, along with his little sister, Kara, age 7, have both lived onboard the ship for the last THREE YEARS. The told me all about how they travel around the world from port to port to share their books and the gospel message. They are from Scotland, and have a very distinct, and awesome, Scottish accent.”Wee frome Glahzgo in Scote-lin,” I believe is what Kara said to me. Liam told me that his accent had changed since spending so much time with children from all over the world who all lived on the boat with him. Though I still thought he sounded very Scottish, I could definitely see how something like that could happen. Though notable happened during my visit with them, I just thought that living on a boat for three years would be a very interesting experience, and different from anything I have ever know. In my last short conversation with Kara, she asked me, “Aahh you a Christian?” and I said, “Yes I am,” and then she asked, “Did you become a Christian on the Logos Hope Book Ship?” and I replied, “Haha, no, no I didn't.” It was adorable.

Actually, I take it back, there was a notable story that involved Liam and Kara that day. At the beach that we go to here in MoBay, there are a few trampolines within what look like giant inner tubes, all anchored down about 60 ft away from the shore. Liam and Kara the vast majority of their time at the beach playing on one of these trampolines. Probably about 45 minutes before I headed out to their trampoline with a few team members (and would eventually start talking to the kids) I was lying on the sand peacefully when I heard the lifeguard begin to yell. As I looked up, along with the rest of visitors within 50 feet of the lifeguard, I saw that Kara had pulled up the ladder on to the trampoline and left her brother to tread water below, unable to get onto the trampoline. Though the water was only about seven feet deep at that point, it was still obviously well above Liam's head. So we all set their on the beach, listening to this lifeguard yelling, without leaving the dryness of his beach tower, at Kara to put the ladder back down, even though she either could not hear or understand him. Though I don't think anybody seriously thought that this kid was really going to drown in front of all of us (though some were more concerned than others), it started to become increasingly clear that the lifeguard was absolutely not going in the water to help. The fact that our lifeguard was too lazy to get in the water was a little discomforting. Eventually, Kara put the ladder down and Liam was fine. He does, after all live on a ship year-round and is quite a skilled swimmer.

One aspect of my Jamaican experience that I have not yet shared in this blog is living in the city of Montego Bay (and the neighborhood of Grandville). I became very aware of sounds of the city on my first night her back in January. That night, along with many nights, very loud music started playing, seemingly just outside the campus walls around 1 AM and continued through maybe about 4 AM. The music itself is challenging to sleep through, however, I was most awakened by the sound of about six gunshots in the midst of the music. After I woke up the next morning, it occurred to me that the gunshots were probably just part of a song.

Kids these days and their loud rap music, baggy shorts all hangin' down, and Nintendo gizmos, I tell you what! They need to stay off my property before I call the cops! Back when I was young we used to used to respect our elders and our community. They just don't make 'em like they used to, that's for sure.

Although we get front row benefits to all-night concerts maybe once every few weeks or so, a performance that is recited more frequently is called, “The Barking of the Dogs in C Minor.” It's really quite beautiful. The three dogs that live here on campus, along with dozens of dogs that live outside the campus walls will, almost every night, bark. Bark, bark, bark, bark.... Bark, bark bark, pant, pant, pant, bark bark, bark. Wait, wait, they here something more! Better bark at it! Bark, bark, bark, bark, and then finally stop. Wait no, wait, bark, bark.... bark, barking, bark, bark, Bob Barker, bark, bark, and then a bark, bark, bark.. And I could continue to describe it to you, but I wouldn't want to give away the multiple plot twists and surprise ending. You'd never guess happens.

About two weeks after I thought I heard gunshots, I really did hear clear gunshots, making me think that maybe the ones before weren't just part of the song. I would later hear gunshots at night here on a number of occasions. Hearing gunshots here is a weird experience. Your first reaction is to assess whether or not you are in immediate danger. Since the campus is surrounded by 8-foot tall cinderblock walls and the windows of all the buildings here are not that big, the chance of a bullet coming over the wall and actually hitting anybody on campus are virtually impossible. So then the next thoughts you have are, “Who is shooting?” and, “Who are they shooting at?” and, “Did he hit his target?” I have to believe that some of the shots I have heard over the last few months were warning shots, but I also have to believe that some were not warning shots, which is an eerie realization. It is quite an abrupt transition of gears psychologically to be reading about spreadsheets one moment, hearing 3 or 4 loud cracks no less than a half-mile away, and then thinking, “Did somebody's life just come to an end?” I just raise my eyebrows, say a quick prayer for them, recognize there is nothing more I can do, and move on. Sorry to touch on this morbid subject, but I has been an eye-opening component of my experience here.

I have a smattering of other mini-stories and thoughts that I have not yet shared, but by this point in this blog post, most of you have stopped reading, so I will continued the bonus commentary in another post. If you have made it this far, I am very impressed, you have a greater attention span than I do. Take it easy!

Much Love.

Week Sixish through Nineish

FIRE! FIRE! THE FLAMES ARE GOING TO CONSUME EVERYTHING!! EVERYTHING!!!

These were the thoughts racing through my mind as the massive fire ripped a path of destruction through the Jamaican hillside toward JDV last Sunday (March 28).

Okay so it wasn't quite that big or dangerous of a fire, but rational thinking wasn't exactly at the top of my priority list as I vigorously hacked branches off of trees for usage in beating the flames into submission. I reason that since nobody got hurt and nothing got substantially damaged, I can safely say that the story of the JDV fire has been my most exciting experience since arriving here in Jamaica.

As I have mentioned before, JDV is located up in the hills of Manchester parish. During the dry seasons here, water becomes very scarce and much of the vegetation on the hillsides dries up to a crunchy yellow. At this dry state, though the land here is mostly fields of knee-high grass and is littered with rocky patches, it becomes dangerously susceptible to fire. Since the land does not have a thick density of trees, fires here tend not to get overwhelmingly hot (compared to a full-scale California forest fire), nor do they sustain flames much higher than 5 or 6 feet. Though I had seen smoke from neighboring patches of land, and seen the charred remains of already-burn vegetation up-close, I had yet to experience any of these brush fires up close.

The chain of events leading from my awareness of the brush fire to my transformation into a full-on volunteer fire fighter was alarmingly short. Last Sunday, I attended the the 11 A.M. service at the New Life Church for the Deaf. The service ended around 12:30 P.M. and I headed over, with the team (from Lake Placid, FL), to tour the furniture factory right after the service.

After our 20 minute tour, I found myself walking back up the hill toward my apartment next to Chad Huber, the missionary boss-man here at JDV. Immediately after locking up the factory and starting our trek upwards, we both noticed the smoke rising from about 300 yards away from us. Unable to see the base of the fire, Chad asked out loud, "I wonder if that fire is on our side of the road...". After quickening our walking pace and gaining enough elevation to confirm the alarming proximity of the fire to our position and the village, Chad says, "Looks like we're about to have a weenie-roast here this afternoon," as breaks he into a run and lifts his phone to call the fire department and police (this Chad quote has become my favorite during my time here).

By the time Chad and I made it up the hill (neither one of us are stellar long distance runners, and our adrenaline-induced run eventually broke into panting hobble) the fire had already made it up the hillside from the road and was within 100 feet of Pastor Damian's house (and my current apartment). Though the flames in the fire weren't that high, the abundance of smoke makes it difficult to tell what is going on, how big the flames are, or in which direction the fire is spreading most quickly. As I get up to the top of the hill, I see Pastor Damian, along with many members of the work team, in their church clothes, rushing to fill up buckets with water behind the pastor's house. After acquiring some tree branches and distributing them to some team members, I began wailing away at the flames myself.

In those moments prior to my full comprehension of the situation's not-so-fatal severity, the reactions of the villagers and team members were quite varied. Some were on their knees praying for a change in the winds, some were fighting the fire with enraged ferocity, some, like me, were fighting and praying, some were sitting down because they were exhausted from fighting, and others were making sure all of the women and children were safe. Though I would grin about these moments later, during them, it felt like I was in a movie. A movie with an awesome soundtrack. And incorporates a good love story where the stumpy hero with big thighs and patchy facial hair wins the heart of the girl in the end. Perhaps I am foreshadowing my own fate.......? Brilliant.

The primary safety mechanism that kept all of the building at JDV from suffering substantial smoke damage and possibly catching on fire (keep in mind only the roofs here are made of the wood, everything else is concrete) was the shortness of the grass. Around every building is at least a 40-foot zone of shortly mowed grass. When the fire makes it to the shorter grass, the flames are smaller, the fire burns slower and the fire can be smothered out with a tree branch. Upon realizing that we could actually put the fire out with the leafy tree branches, I became much more confident that the fire would not consume everything and everybody, and bring my young life here to an epic, flaming conclusion.

About halfway through our battle with the inferno, Chad informed me that the fire station's only fire truck was out of commission and that another fire truck from another station was going to come eventually. "Soon Come," is the phrase used down here when something is going to take a long time, or may not ever actually happen at all.

As we stamped out the fire successfully up the hill from the pastor's house about 200 yards, we started to find ourselves in much deeper grass and beyond the point where the fire would threaten any JDV buildings if simply let it burn. The primary area I started to watch at this point was the road that ran between the fire and the large apartment building here. I figured that if we just made sure the fire did not jump the road, it would burn itself out on the other side. It was while watching this road that I saw the first Jamaican fireman arrive. As anybody would, I first had a positive reaction upon seeing a fireman decked out in a black and yellow fire-proof suit, complete with helmet, boots, and gloves. All comfort and relief that I had attained in that split second was immediately lost, however, when I noticed that the fireman WAS FIGHTING THE FIRE WITH A BRANCH SLIGHTLY SMALLER THAN MINE. I just wanted to rush up to him and ask, "Hey mon! Shouldn't you have like, ummm... WATER?!" But to be fair to the firemen, they did hook up the hose to the firetruck and help put out the fire that was burning up next to some of the buildings down the hill.

In the aftermath, other than some smoke-filled lungs and a few rooms scattered with ash from the smoke, there were no serious injuries or damage at JDV, other than a number of fence posts that we will likely replace this week. I did find out the next day that one of the neighbor's cows died in the fire, as it pinned itself in a corner of tall grass and inhaled too much smoke. All-in-all the fire consumed approximately 20 acres of brush, one cow, 60 fence posts, and one afternoon me playing of Heroes of Might and Magic V (It's a computer game). Though I never found out if there was a confirmed source of the fire, many said that a neighboring Jamaican was burning tires and lost control of the flames. Though I did not take all these pictures, I did take more after the fire than at any other point on this trip [Patting myself on the back].

Before: Some team members watch with uncertainty of the fire's intentions,

not knowing that they are in the way of DESTRUCTION.

After: A burnt wasteland.

Well, actually the grass will grow back pretty fast.

I fell in to a burning ring of fire.

I went down, down, down, but the flames went higher.

Here, you can see were the fire burnt out the fields

across from the road that runs above the apartment.

Winds pushed these flames up the hill away from JDV.

Some of the little ones were almost as scared as I was.

Here, you can see the divide between good and evil.

Some Snickers bars sent to me by Leigh Austin.

As you can see by the bottom empty wrapper,

I snarfed one really quick to give me fire-fighting energy.

Why wait?

Silhouette of the the fire fighting, machete-wielding, gladiator.

Moments later, I would be yelled at for taking pictures

during a 20-acre brush fire, instead of helping.

Some fence posts that will need replacing.

The wall on the left is the back of Chad's house.

That fire was all up in our grill.

Aftermath of fence posts looking down toward the maintenance shed.

A shift in the wind was all that kept this brush

in the foreground here from going up in flames.

Here is the road I helped watch that kept the

fire away from the apartment.

Some volunteers finishing off the last

flames on the hill above JDV.

Hooray! The fire truck finally arrives!

Notice the fire is out in the background.

Hillside above some of the buildings.

All the fire in the picture was put out with branches.

This is just a cool picture.

We stopped the fire here - about 30 feet from

Pastor Damian's house.

In previous posts, I have worked harder to integrate pictures into the body of the text, so I apologize for not doing that on this post. Hopefully, my ratings will not suffer because of my laziness.

Prior to my arrival at JDV last Sunday and the great fire, I was at MoBay for three weeks, none of which have I mentioned yet in my blog. Although I take primary credit for my groundbreaking procrastination in waiting over a month between posts, I would like to also give credit to my spotty internet connections and my faithful followers, who have barely said anything about my long posting break, leading me to believe nobody is reading so I could put this post off for a longer period of time.

Back in early March, my brothers were here for a week. It would've been an awesome week, but unfortunately, as I mentioned earlier, my brothers were there. Haha, we had a grand ole' time! There were many things the I experience here that will be difficult to explain when I get home, and I am excited to have them help me give more life to my Jamaica stories. For example, they had the opportunity to work it Dayveeeed Mon all week and the fun of trying to understand his Patwa over and over and over. They also had to meet and work with Glenford and gain an understanding of why he is my hero. They met many of the children that have made my time here so awesome. Working with us that week was a group from Pennsylvania called Hands and Feet Ministries. At some point in the week, one of the high-school students in the group pointed out that I am a harder worker than Kolt and Chase (which is not that difficult, as they set the bar pretty low), a comment that made good for many jokes as the week went on. But all in all, I was proud of them and the work they did for the ministry and kids. I was happy to have part of what I missed back home come and visit me here.

After Kolt, Chase and Pennsylvania group left, we had a short break before Hope College showed up the next Friday! Among that group stepping off the plane were: my former soccer coach, his wife and kids, my former college roommate and his wife, two players that I helped coach when they were high schoolers at West Ottawa, a former hockey teammate, and a smattering of other familiar faces. Catching up with all of my established relationships and making new ones made that week awesome. As Hope does not stay on the school campus, I was able to join them for dinner off-campus at their place of lodging: Chattham Cottages, 200 yards from the beach. Every night Warren and I would head over to join the group, they welcomed us with open arms, and did not hit us with their hand bags, for which I was most grateful!

Though it was socially awesome to have some people in my age group to interact with during the Chase/Kolt and Hope weeks, they were the two hottest weeks I have yet experienced here in Jamaica. It was vvvvery hot, mon! Up through that point in my trip here, I had been able to work pretty hard throughout the day and, providing I took enough water breaks, I was able to keep a good work rate going. These two weeks were different. Whether it was my body hitting the physical wall of being here for two months or the heat simply draining the energy from me, I found myself really digging deep to find the energy to keep working every day.

Unashamedly contributing to my exhaustion is the vocational building waste pit. During the PA's group's time at MoBay, we finished putting the cap on the soak away pit I showed in earlier pictures. Before liquid waste goes into the soak away pit, it must first gather in the waste pit, which is located about 40 feet uphill from the soak away. Prior to PA group, the waste pit hadn't been worked on in over a year. As it stood, it was only about 10 feet wide and 10 feet deep. We need it to be 15 feet wide and 13 feet deep. Though getting started on the project was smooth, it became apparrent it would be quite a difficult project as we started pick-axing and shoveling the rocky soil. Ten hot work days of teams hammering on that pit for 7 hours a day and we still have not hit our mark. Toward the end of the Hope team, I found myself avoiding the pit altogether, knowing that I could, in fact, die in that hole, which the Hope team came to call "The Pit of Despair." In my head, I also called it the Pit of Eternal Peril, the Hole of the Undead, the Lion's Den, the Octagon, the Dungeon, Gravedigger, the Widowmaker, Tears of Darkness, Summon the Kraken, Luke I am Your Father, and Icky, Icky, Icky, Kahpungow. Picture to come in next post.

Now that I have caught up with things at MoBay, I can say that my time here at JDV since the fire has been rather uneventful. I have done lots of work mixing concrete, pouring concrete, and setting blocks. After my last day of work last week, I threw down a three-hour nap on my tile floor, in my work clothes. It is my proudest nap since I've been here. I didn't even take my shoes off. It was that serious.

As I wrap up my last two weeks here (I come home for a 3-week break on April 17), I grow very excited to go to the cinema when I get back into the States. I have watched a few movies here (I just watched Pride and Prejudice, the greatest love story of all times), but have not been out to the movies since I left home and I'm missing it! I am going to see if Celebration Cinema can just rent me out a few seats in the back of a theater so I can just live there for a few weeks. Keep your fingers crossed!

I hope to get a blog in before I get home, but I make no promises!

Take it easy. Much Love!