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!

Week Fourish and Fiveish (Somewhat)

Greetings friends! For all of you who thought that I would not have the discipline to keep a blog up and running during my time here, I say, "Ha!" as I am now writing my third post and I have only been here seven weeks! I should probably get a job at a newspaper, since I am so timely in my updates.

In defense of my slowness, my internet accessibility has not been exactly stable over the last four weeks. Even as I write these words right now, though I am using my own computer (that was brought to me last week), I am sitting in a hot laundry room to pick up a decent wireless signal. I would just go into Warren's apartment, but he is out right now. I would like to send a special shout-out to Emily Baker, who is the only one to harp on me for being so far behind on my blogs. Without her encouragement, I would be up in my apartment right now. Napping. And then eating peanut butter. And then napping some more while eating peanut butter.

Check out this crown I made from clothespins.

I had actually started to write a blog post three weeks ago, but never finished it. Since I already had a number of paragraphs done, with verb tenses and relative times established, I am going to just add to it before coming back to my present situation here. Does that sound good? Too bad, I'm doing it anyways.

{Travel back in time three weeks. WHOOOOOOOSH!!}

Greetings from the rolling hills of Manchester Parish, Jamaica!

Pretty, huh? View from top of the village

From L to R: Maintenance Shed, Furniture Factory,

Sewing Shop, New Life Church for the Deaf

From L to R: Pastor's House, Team Dining Area,

Chad's House

Last week (and this week) I am helping out at the Jamaica Deaf Village (JDV), which is located in Mandeville, about a 2.5 hour drive (if I remember correctly) across the island from Montego Bay. Please see a Jamaica map if you want to know the exact relative location. You can find one at a map superstore or even a simple map outlet store might have one. Maps 'R' Us usually has them in stock. Also Maps, Maps, and Beyond would probably be a good place to look. T.J. Mapps is probably my favorite place to go, because you can usually get them a bit cheaper there, but they might not have the exact map you are looking for (so be careful!).

In keeping with tradition, I have a story before I actually describe any of the work I am doing here.

The day was last Wednesday. I had gone to sleep quite comfortably after a long days work running the hammer-drill busting up concrete. I had fallen asleep immediately as I always tend to do here. I started having a dream that I was talking to Chad, my boss here at JDV. Chad had, on multiple occasions, voiced his concern that he did not want me working too hard and get burnt out before my time here was over. My conversation with Chad in my dream had mirrored this concern. We were out front of the dining hall and I had assured him that I would be fine and that if anyone was good at taking breaks, it was me. As I was walking away from him and from our conversation, a number of startling events occurred nearly simultaneously. First, I hear what sounds like a helicopter operating at full power right in my eardrum. Only after hearing about three (BOOM, BOOM, BOOM) of the helicopter's rapid and intense rotations, did I, all in a split second 1) realize this was not a dream, 2) sit up in my bed faster than I ever have, 3) see a HUGE flash of green light illuminating my entire bedroom, 4) say, "OMAHGAWD" 5) swing my right arm at full force within millimeters of my face 6) look over the left side of my bed, panting heavily with eyes open wide, staring at the largest lighting bug I had ever seen in my life writhing near-death on my floor. After finishing him off with my sandal, laughing for a good fifteen minutes, snapping a pic of the beast, checking the time (5:25 am), I attempted to go back to sleep. With the light on. Unsuccessfully.

Figure 1. Scardemeh Shetaless

Sorry for the bad picture. That's about an 1.25-inch

long lightning bug. AKA Yoda.

Mandeville is up the hills of Jamaica. With the elevation change comes much beauty, but also many discrepancies from life in Montego Bay. First, the temperature is much cooler. Earlier this week, for the first time, I wished that I had a blanket to supplement my sheet during my slumber. Also, it is much foggier in the mornings here here then on the coastal regions of the island. Though the cooler temperature and fog have been slight adjustments for me, they have, in the realm of new stimuli vying for my attention, been upstaged by my arch-nemesis here in Mandeville; bugs.

During my first week at JDV I had, in all, five major showdowns with creepy crawlers of the rather-large variety. The first I have already told you the story. I called him Yoda. During my time here I have also killed (in my apartment): a cock roach with a plunger, a beetle with a sandal, a millipede with a plunger, and a cock roach with a chair. As you can see my weapon of choice is the toilet plunger, but my favorite kill was with the chair. Sorry I did not get it on video.

Figure 2. Nomatchforous Plungerous

For size reference, remember that my big toes are

about 5 inches long and 4 inches across.

Bugs make good stories, but they do not really help at all describe the entirety of my time here. Though creeeeeepy craaaaawlers make me uneasy, my time here at JDV has been awesome. My boss's (is that right grammar?) name here is Chad Huber. He lives here at the village with his wife and their seven children. Coming from a large family, I can appreciate the excitement that so much youth creates. The children range in age from 17 to 1-ish (sorry Elise, I forgot how old you are. In a few years, when you can read this, please forgive me). In addition to Chad and his family, there are four other families, and about seven single adults that live at JDV. To call it a village I guess is a bit misleading, it is more of a small community, but it is a great place with awesome people!

My experience at JDV has been quite different from being at the school in MoBay. Here at JDV, there are no deaf children, only deaf adults. Though many of the deaf couples at JDV have small children, the children are all hearing. Though I thoroughly enjoyed getting to meet and build relationships with the adults at the village, I am definitely more reluctant to ask deaf adults to teach me sign language than deaf children. In part, it's because many of the children are still learning JSL as well, so for them to teach is very helpful for their abilities. Another part of it is that I do not feel bad asking a child to take time out of their life to show me signs. But the adults at the village have jobs, social lives, and many other things they can do besides teach another slow-thinking American their language. Though I am reluctant to ask for help from the deaf adults, they have always been more than happy to teach me every chance they have gotten. They did not hit me with their handbags, for which I was most grateful!

In term of construction here at JDV, there is only one building we have been working on. The building will be used for work teams to stay in during their stays at JDV. The building also has a large dining room, large commercial kitchen, and a few apartments for residents. The building is about three years from being finished {Keep in mind that all CCCD campus construction is funded and built 100% by work teams that come in each spring and summer, so progress is very... gradual :) }.

My primary role during my time here was to make holes in the cinder block walls for water, electrical, and plumbing pipes to go. My weapon of mass destruction is the demolition tool. It looks like a giant drill and can use different bits to either jack hammer or drill through concrete. I have also heard it called the Hi-Lie, the Hil-Tee, the Hammer Drill, and the Jack Hammer. Since everyone was throwing names into the hat, I came up with a few myself: Big Poppa, the Haymaker, Jeff, Thugnificent, the Power Bomb, and Icky-Icky-Icky Kah-Bungo. I ultimately settled on calling it the Rain Maker, a reference to the conclave of concrete and mortar it rains down from the Heavens above when you use it.

The Rain Maker and I. Inseparable. Especially when my fingers

can no longer release from squeezing the trigger for too long.

Formally: Cinder block wall

Currently: Rain Maker food and an area for 3-in. pipe

The groups that have been here at the village are a group from Charlotte, Michigan (isn't that crazy?) last week and the group from Francisville, Indiana this week. In addition to meeting and spending time with these two groups, I have also got to spend a lot of time with Chad and his family (the let me watch a movie with them last week. Hooray!) and also with a strange young man by the name of Blake Widmer, (my current roommate) who is the Missionary at the CCCD school in Kingston. Blake (and Chad) are both from Francisville and have many friends and relatives on the team this week. Since Blake did not have any work team in Kingston this week, he is helping out here. Blake graduated college a year before I did, so it has been fun to get to spend time with somebody in my similar life situation, sense of humor, and age-range. Not that I don't love hanging out with the toddlers and teenagers at the school, nor the high-schoolers or adults that come down on the teams, but I feel that much of my humor and many of my references are lost on people outside of a specific age range, and it is refreshing to experience that again every once in a while.

Thank you for reading about my time here at JDV! Since the Gold Medal game has not yet taken place for hockey, I hereby predict that USA beats Canada in overtime as Sidney Crosby accidentally scores on his own goal in OT to let down his country right before he twists both ankles and develops a rash from being Canadian. You heard it here first!

{Jump back to the present. WHOOOOOOOOOSH!!}

So now that I have you all caught up with my two weeks at the village, I can tell you that upon completion of those two weeks, I rode back here to MoBay, to meet a new team from Pennsylvania, and my brothers! That's right. Kolt Martin and Chase Parker actually got off their lazy, Call-Of-Duty-playing asses (can I say "ass" in this blog?), got on the plane, and flew to Jamaica! And remembered their passports to boot!

So stay tuned for my next blog post, where I describe what happened last week. Sooner or later I will get this blog caught up and laugh at all of you who said it could not be done. Now that I have more easily accessible internet, I plan to blog again yet this week.

But before I go, one more JDV bug story...

So one night during my second week at JDV, I left the team dining room (where people often hang out, play games, and talk until the wee hours of the morning) a bit early to get some extra sleep. Since Blake and my apartment had internet (via Blake's computer) one of the high-school-age work team members (we'll call him "Boone," to protect the innocent) accompanied me back to the apartment so he could use the internet real quick before going to bed. After arriving back at the apartment, I realized that the gate one must pass through to gain access to our door was locked. I looked around the side of the apartment to see that our light was on and that Blake must be inside with the key. Now, the widows on the side of the apartments each have awnings, and under each awning hangs about five clementine-sized wasp nests. Keep in mind, it was nighttime, and very cool at that hour, and the chances of wasps coming out of their nests, as long as you didn't straight-up punch their homes, were very small. So I, being very afraid of things with stingers, and not wanting to venture anywhere near said nests, asked Boone to peep in the window and ask Blake to let us in (without telling him of the nests, of course). So Boone goes over to the window, makes the request of Blake, and then walks back around front, without any snags. After we get inside the apartment, Boone, wearing a hooded-sweatshirt with the hood up, makes an off-hand complaint about a beetle flying in front of his face. As Blake and I look up at his face, we both simultaneously notice one of the largest spiders I have ever seen DANGLING FROM HIS HOOD, almost kicking him in the nose. Though Blake and I were both freaking out and screaming and flailing our arms, Boone remained amazingly calm as Blake batted our eight-legged friend out of our door and into the garage before ending the episode with a sneaker. I laughed even harder upon the realization that Boone had run into a spider's web beneath the wasp's nests in front of our window. Though it happened very fast, I can describe the spiders body size as just under "dime" and his legs probably extending slightly beyond "Ritz cracker." As I said that night, "YAAHHAHHYAAGEEEEZ Get itta wayyy from me!"

That it all. Take it easy. Much Love!

Week Two-ish/Three-ish

Greetings from the principal's office! I think that on the next leg of my Jamaican experience, I will bring my own computer, but until then I will use whatever computer is available to me. Though having intermittent internet access has been a challenge for me, a more frustrating thing is not being able to watch Olympic hockey highlights when I do have access. Yaarrrgg! Stupid NBC and their broadcasting rights. Phooey. If anyone finds a way around this that is somewhat legal and won't be a danger to this computer that is not mine, let me know. I will pay you 1 (one) fun-size half-eaten Snickers bar upon my return to the United States. You have my word. I digress. Back to Jamaica.

Story time! Sports Day (field day) was this last week and it was a very good time. Following the indoor competition, which was held on Monday, all the students competed in an outdoor competition on Tuesday. My contribution to Sports Day, along with helping to paint the track on the field (which was done quite beautifully I must add), was to help in keeping score of the three different houses during the competition. The names of the houses are Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. NO THOSE ARE NOT THE REAL NAMES, HUNTAR. You huuuge nerd. The houses are Red, Green, and Blue House.

As sports day began, parents and alumni from the school gradually began showing up, almost like a homecoming celebration. A former student who I met five years ago on my first visit to Jamaica, Garnett, was among the alumni who attending. Immediately upon his arrival, Garnett pleaded repeatedly to race me. Though I was taking my score-keeping duties very seriously (as any diligent C.P.A. would), a break between events allowed enough time for us to race. So I raced 100 meters against Garnett, 3 other alumni, and my boss, Warren. The race went well, I lost to Garnett (who can turn on the after-burners it turns out!) and potentially tied for 2nd place with one of the other alums (there was controversy over who got 2nd and who got 3rd, one of my young deaf fans was enthusiastically positive that I got 2nd, and he's a bit of a liar, so I probably got 3rd). A few years ago, I might have been embarrassed by the loss, but not anymore. After losing in Nintendo to girls while in college, losing a race to my brother this past summer, losing my bike in Atlanta, losing my side-view mirror in Atlanta, and losing an arm wrestling match to a 17-year old deaf student just last week, I have very little pride left in my abilities or my possesions.

After the race, I walked back toward my "scorers" table, congratulating Garnett on my way and telling all the little kids "he was just too fast." After sitting back down, a few of the kids kept asking me if I was okay and if I needed water. "I'm fine," I kept signing to them, "I will get water soon," I reiterated. I think the kids may have been on to something. After about 45 seconds of sitting back down, my vision started to darken a little bit. Uh-oh. I quickly thought about the last time I had drank any water and realized I hadn't even had a sip yet that day. Uhhh-oh. I looked over toward Warren, my boss here, and saw him drinking a bottle of juice. I thought, "If I can just make it over to Warren and drink his juice, followed by lots of water, I can get out of this without making a big scene."

One hundred meters to my doom

As I made the 30 foot trip over toward where Warren was sitting, my vision began to darken more and my ears began losing their ability to pick up distinct sounds, like I had just gone under water. Walking toward him, I began what I like to call "involuntarily falling asleep" mid-stride. As I took my final step toward the unsuspecting Warren, my journey into unconsciousness came full bloom, as I staggered, tripped, and my momentarily uncontrolled body flailed into him. My head struck his shoulder pretty sternly (as I've been told) and then I was able to sit up next to him, following the collision, regain (at least partial) consciousness and request water. "Did you mean to hit me that hard?" Warren asked. "Naah. Nah, I think I was in... another dimension," I replied.

As I sat next to him, with my glazed over eyes staring into the distance, focused on nothing in particular, and my head at a disengaged tilt, I realized that my attempt at not making a scene had indeed failed, as children and parents were trying to glimpse what was going on, looking into my eyes as if they were checking to see if I still had a soul. And as I remained sitting there, somewhere between this world and the dream world, what thoughts I was able to harness were poised not on how many people were looking at me and how I could minimize how much attention I was getting, but at whether I had health insurance or not (I was recently in-between plans) and how badly I did not want to visit a Jamaican hospital.

Though it took about a half-hour and a half-gallon of water, I was eventually brought back to life. Though I was not embarrassed about losing the race, I was embarrassed that of the 54 students, 3 teachers, 6 parents, 4 alumni, and 1 missionary that ran at some point on Sports Day, I was the only one who got dehydrated and give everyone a scare. All of the staff, however, were very kind, handled the situation very well, and did not hit me with their handbags, for which I was most grateful.

Though I did not get any pictures of Sports Day or my delightful dally down dehydration drive, I did take many other pictures that will help give depth to the descriptions of my experiences.

The following 2 pictures are related construction items I discussed previous post. I mixed the mortar for these projects and David, the mason, slapped it up there and then smoooothed it out.

Rebar clamps holding up forms
post-rough cast, pre-rendering

Window after rendering (Still needs paint, mon!)

These next two pictures are from the main project we worked on during my 2nd week. The vocational building, as it's called, is a three-story building next to the school that is not yet completed. In this building, there will be a kitchen for culinary training, a shop for training in woodwork, a few apartments for students, a room for all the tools and storage of unused PVC pipes, and the top floor will be hospitality suites. The plan is that on the top floor, tourists will stay and be served by the students who are still in training at the school.

The waste from this building will filter through to giant pits that have been dug into the earth down hill from the building. The first is the septic pit, where solid waste will be stored. The liquid wastes will flow to soak-away pit. As liquid waste goes into the pit, it will soak into the ground. Our task last week was to line the soak away pit with rocks, so that it will keep its shape, yet still allow liquids to permeate the walls and into the soil. I snapped a few pics of Warren walking around the hole. It's about 10 feet deep and 12 feet across. Very fun for climbing!

Hole-E Crap!

Me big man. Me dig hole for to pee in.

Funny story about the hole. When we were putting that top band of concrete to solidify the structure of the rocks, we used wheelbarrow to pour the mixture directly onto the rocks, instead of shoveling it into buckets for more precision and control. Ladrick, a deaf man who graduated from CCCD a long time ago and now does construction work, was pouring concrete onto the rocks from the left side of the hole (where you'll notice there is a hill), lost control of it and sent the wheelbarrow careening 10 feet down to the bottom of the pit. Luckily, nobody was hurt and the wheelbarrow survived, so it was okay to laugh at. If somebody is reading this that would be upset about this story, I made it up.

Next is a view from campus followed by the tool trailer.

View of the bay from campus
Please notice the beautifully painted track
FYI: Track painted with used motor oil. Nothing gets your whites whiter!

I saw the sign and it opened up my eyes

Glenford's tool trailer

Notice the sign in front of the tool trailer: 1) "Notce" is missing the "i". 2) Why does it randomly say "Jamaica"? Maybe it's just in case you forget where you are. 3) I don't know what "MAO" means so I can't make fun of it. I will ask Glenford what it means. Then maybe I will make fun of it.

On to food. My favorite part. I have had jerk chicken/jerk pork now 10 times in my 19 days here, which has not nearly been enough. To my delight, it's not that spicy (unless you add spicy, spicy sauce) so I am able to really enjoy the delicious flavor. Num, num, num. I also got to try ginger beer (like root beer mixed with ginger ale, I'll say) and ginger biscuits and digestive chocolate. (I have no idea why it's called that, but it is hilarious) As far as I could tell digestive chocolate was just a ginger biscuit covered in chocolate. Which was good, but I'd also take a Snickers down in about three bites.

Mmmmm Jerk Chicken... Nom, Nom, Nom

Hooray Ginger Beer! Pretty good stuff


Ginger Biscuits and Chocolate Degestive
Wait... What?!

On to my last few pictures. During my second week here, a team from Bowling Green, Kentucky was here. I told them I had driven though many times on my way to Atlanta and that the gas in Bowling Green was top-notch, sometimes getting me clear into Georgia before my next fill-up. Last Friday, I went with the team into Ocho Rios to visit the market, Dunns River Falls, and then Glistening Waters on the way back.

As much as I hated being pestered by all the merchants at the market (it's the ABSOLUTE worse place to be if you are honestly not going to buy anything), getting to go to Dunns River Falls made it worthwhile. I have been once before, about 5 years ago, and it was just as much fun as I remembered it. Quite beautiful, too. At Dunns River, you walk in the park and down several paths and flights of stairs to the beach. You access the river at the beach and climb up and across(let's say...) 150 yards of falls against the current. Some big groups get guides and all hold hands and take the journey very slowly. I find it much more fun (and probably easier) to bypass these groups and find the moderate to challenge routes.

I also got to experience Glistening Waters, which I had never done before and was really neat. In certain bodies of mixed salt and fresh waters, dinoflaggelates in the water glow (similar to a firefly) when the water is stirred. So at night, anytime you make a splash, all the moving water lights up in a green glow. It looks awesome, especially when you get to swim in it.

Aside from those two events, that day helped to remind me that I am a terrible tourist. I get fidgety and want to do something productive besides go "Ooooh! Aaaaah! Let's buy one of theeeese!" and "Humphh, I never knew that before!"

The beach at Ocho Rios
It's kinda pretty I guess


The bubbles


Maybe the "N" is backwards on purpose,
to make this scene even more deep and artistic?


Dunns River Falls
Notice people near top of picture for scale


Discovery Bay - Where Columbus first anchored in Jamaica
Somewhat pretty

Those are all my pictures for now, thanks for viewing!

This week has been substantially slower than the first two, as we have no work team here this week and the kids when home for the week after Sports Day on Tuesday. I have been passing the time by working on random small projects around campus, hanging out with Glenford, practing my JSL, and reading my book on Microsoft Excel (Smile if you're JEALOUS). Suckas!

This upcoming Sunday I am heading up to the Jamaica Deaf Village (JDV) for two weeks to help out with the work teams that will be there, before returning back to MoBay for a few weeks. If you are still awake, thanks for reading! My next post will probably be less pictures and more words since there are a number of topics that I have not covered, which I would like to reflect on, but am too lazy to do right now. Much Love!

Week One

Greeting from Montego Bay!

I have been here at CCCD's MoBay School campus here for 10 days now! I have experienced and learned so much that it seems like I have been here much longer, but on the other hand, the consistent excitement and enjoyment of my trip has caused each day to pass rather quickly. Reflection on the passage of time always seems to deliver this paradox for me. Weird.

To fully understand my delight to be in Jamaica as of January 31, I think you first need to comprehend my journey. Prior to my arrival on the island, I spent a few days in "beautiful" Chicago, Illinois.

I took the train from East Lansing to Union Station on Wednesday, January 27 in the early morning. Despite the train being delayed about an hour (which I found out was pretty good for AmTrak), I found my ride quite pleasant. After spending the last 16 months driving back and forth from Mason to Atlanta at 12.5 hours per drive every few months, it was nice to be able to relax for a change. Though I had about 5 different people I wanted to visit, my attempts (during my train ride) to find someone to pick me up from Union Station were unfruitful.

Union Station: Pre-Nap

So after arriving at Union Station in downtown Chicago, I dragged my luggage to the food court, grabbed some popcorn, and then proceeded to head to the Grand Hall, where I found a bench and inevitably fell asleep in public with 3 bags of luggage surrounding me.

This brochure says, "An Amtrak train can take more than 300 cars off the road."

I WANT TO SEE THAT HAPPEN.

Actually, its probably already been done in a Bruce Willis movie.

This would not be my only experience in Chicago looking and feeling like a homeless man. After a returned phone call ended my hour-long nap, I started toward the subway which would take me north to Wrigleyville. What I had not anticipated as a left Union Station to board the L's red line was the 20 minute walk through the freezing cold. That will be the last time I haul 3 months worth of luggage through downtown Chi-town in temperatures that must have pushed negative 17 F. Half-way through my trek through the treacherous tundra, I looked for a freshly-deceased taun-taun to use for shelter from the blistering cold. Using my light saber, I would slice open its belly and hide within the warm and inviting confine of the intestines and wait for Harrison Ford to save me. Well, I was unable to find a taun-taun, but I did find a Mickey D's to warm up in. After doing a kicking shuffle (that I have trademarked) to get my 50-lb. luggage bag though the revolving door in the same uh... compartment as me, I made straight for the restrooms. Needless to say, I was quite disappointed to find that the McDonald's restrooms were locked and were for paying customers only. Choosing to ignore my bladder rather than my wallet, I pressed on toward the subway. After arriving at the red line, plopping down the stairs, squeezing through the turnstile (mega-luggage in tow, let's remember), boarding the train, and accidentally hitting a girl in the face with my backpack during the ride, I was finally able to find a warm, socially acceptable place to lie down in Chicago. A special thanks to Mike Prashaw, Tommy Yamoakaocaoako, Koltar-Ruark Martin, Tara Henderson (and David Dethmers), and Emily Belle Scatterday for their hospitality during my short visit to Chicago. I am never coming back to your frozen wasteland. It is a terrible, terrible place. A special psssht to Seth Weener for being a turkey-bird and ruining our "friendship."

I apologize for the fact that you've spent three minutes reading so far and have not heard one word about Jamaica. You are all aware, however, that in my life, for every minute I spend in reflection, I trying to spend at least on hour laughing. Now on to the Caribbean! (I finally know how to spell that!)

Oh wait, one more story not related to actually being in Jamaica...

So I flew from ORD O'Hare into DFW Dallas where I would catch my flight into MBJ Montego Bay. Since my flight out of ORD was a bit delayed, it made for a tight squeeze to catch my flight to MBJ (the MBJ flight was supposed to be boarding as we taxied to our terminal.) While on the flight from ORD, I overheard an older lady say that she was going to MBJ. As I rushed of the plane to make my connecting flight I checked (very carefully) the display and saw that my flight was leaving out of gate D-36. As I was on the monorail from our terminal A to terminal D, I noticed the same old lady that was on my flight. At the top of a peice of paper she was holding it read in blue pen "B-36." This made me nervous. I casually asked her, "Hi, didn't I overhear that you were going to [MBJ]?" She said, "Yes I am." I continued, "Cool, I am as well. We are out of gate D-36, correct?" She replied, "No, I asked the lady when I got off the plane and she told me B-36."

Hence, the battle in my mind began. First I decided I would just go with her, since she seemed pretty confident. Then, I remembered how carefully I had checked the display twice over to make absolutely sure I was right. If I were to go with her and be wrong I knew I would kick myself. I also knew that if I insisted she come with me and then be wrong, I would feel terrible and we would BOTH miss the flight. So as we came to terminal B, I decided the only reasonable solution would be to accept that one of us was right and one was wrong. One would make the flight and the other would be up the river. We arrived at B and I said, "Well.... I'm going to go ahead to D, but I may very well be wrong. Good luck!"

So then the old lady nodded and hesitantly shuffled off the monorail and as the doors closed, I knew I had done something waaaaay wrong. Hahah isn't that terrible? Just leaving an old lady like that? What a gentleman, right?! Wow. I never cease to amaze myself. I got to terminal D and like I had predicted, I was correct, but luckily and thankfully the flight was delayed, giving my old friend plenty of time to make it. Upon her arrival at the gate I apologized repeatedly and made conversation (she was actually going on a medical mission, interesting, no? A very cool lady) and she did not hit me with her handbag, for which I was grateful.

Now seriously, on to Jamaica! If you haven't noticed, I like to tell stories. I think they make it more interesting to read than just a puddle of facts about my experiences.

My first story in Jamaica takes place at the immigration desks in Montego Bay. After getting off the plane, I heading confidently toward immigration, customs, and the baggage claim as this was my fourth time on the island. Upon my arrival to the immigration desks, the lady asked the usual questions and I responded confidently: What is your purpose? Ministry; Where are you staying? CCCD Grandville, St. James; How long will you be here? Eleven weeks (For those of you who don't know, I am doing a 2nd trip of 12 weeks, beginning on May 8). She asked for some documentation to prove what I was doing, as she needed substantial evidence, since my stay here would be rather long. But then she asked for a contact number here on the island. I attempted to look at my right eyebrow, as I scanned my brain for the information. As much as I had prepared for the trip and worked hard on making sure all of my bases were covered, I had not written down any phone numbers of contacts on the island! "Uhhh, yes, I have the number in my cell phone," I proclaimed. I rummaged through the pockets in my backpack, as I was already visibly flustered and disorganized from retrieving the information she had previously requested. I finally found my phone and pulled it out, only to be reminded that it was indeed dead (It wouldn't even turn on). "Ummm, do you have a... uhhh power outlet behind your desk?" I proceeded to ask with a grin on my face. "Come with me," she snapped, unamused with my antics and apparent unpreparedness. She lead me into what seemed to be the waiting area for a set of interrogation rooms. The waiting room was a faded dark green shade and windowless with uncomfortable-looking chairs. The hallway leading away from this room seemed to have a number of rooms that also seemed windowless and uninviting. As I made it into the waiting room, I convinced myself that she wasn't buying my story of doing mission work at all and that I was going to be heavily interrogated regarding my purpose on the island. I just grinned and rolled my eyes as I waited for her to tell me to sit down and wait for my interrogation. "This is going to be a good story," I thought. To my relief, rather than sitting me down in one of the chairs, she pointed me to the power outlet near the front of the waiting room. I plugged in my phone, read off the number, went back to her desk, got my passport stamped, and was on my way to MoBay!

After being picked up from the airport, arriving at the school, and meeting some of the new work team (from Baltimore), I finally "moved in" to my new place here on campus. I say "moved in" with quotations because I will occasionally move back and forth between this campus and the Jamaican Deaf Village (2 hours across the island) during the entirety of my stay in Jamaica, though I will be here in MoBay for a majority of the time.

My place is actually really nice! I have my own apartment, with a kitchen/living/dining area, bedroom, and bathroom.

I continually joke that I have a nicer living situation here in a (comparatively) impoverished country than I did when I had a full-time job in Atlanta. Sorry, Jaime... It's great, though! I eat with the work team all three meals every day, there is no commute, no dishes and no cooking!

My bedroom looking into my bathroom

My kitchen/living/dinging room (AKA the hallway to my bedroom)

My first few days are on the island I felt a bit guity. Within 24 hours of touching down, I was floating on my back in the Caribbean looking up at the clear blue sky. The Baltimore team arrived on Saturday and did not work on Sunday. After chuuuuuuuuuuuuurch on Sunday (a bit longer than my American church), we took off for the beach. It was awesome. I don't want to rub in how nice it is here, and I know that most of America is blizzards so I will just stop now. As of Monday morning, I had been in Jamaica for a day and a half and I had learned three new games, swam, taken naps, juggled the soccer ball and done precisely zero minutes of work, hahah. And the weather was immaculate, but that is that last time I'll mention it.

Don't worry though, that would all change on Monday morning (Even though the sunshine was amaaaazing! And I'm done). Though I have since absorbed a substantial amount of knowledge regarding the projects underway here at the school and how they will be completed, and where the tools are to complete them, at the start of my first week here, I knew as much as any random volunteer. Hence, my role the first week, along with occasional pointers and impromptu lessons from my boss, Warren, was to help the professional mason that CCCD hires, whose name is David (or DAYveed mon! As I call him). David is not deaf, but has worked with CCCD for many years and knows plenty of sign language. While working with David during the week, I mixed up (or helped mix) around 10 wheelbarrows-full of mortar for use on the Vocational building near the back of campus. I estimate that I burned as many calories last week as during probably 5 weeks in Atlanta, hahah. Mixing mortar in wheelbarrows with shovels isn't THAT difficult, just very labor intensive, and I am quite a softie, as you well know. We have a concrete mixer on campus, but the amounts of mortar that we were using at a time were so small, that it didn't make sense to turn on the mixer, waste all that gas, and have to clean out out each and every day.

Regardless, I learned much simply from watching David work all week. The construction process is much, much different here from building houses in the States. All the walls are structured by cinder block, while the floors and ceilings are composed of poured concrete. The cinder-block walls are smoothed with a rough coat of mortar (using a marl aggregate) and then eventually finished with a smooth coat of mortar (using a sand aggregate), before being coated in paint. The only drywall-like material utilized in the process is for the ceiling of the top floor of each building. Though my experience in building construction is not substantial, it is interesting for me to learn different construction techniques.

Though David was able to teach me a lot in terms of masonry, he was much less successful in teaching me Patwa, the dialect of English spoken here in Jamaica. On my previous trips to Jamaica, I had come to the conclusion that Patwa was simply English sped up and spoken with a thick Jamaican accent. My more-focused attempt and understanding the dialect on this trip has given me an enormous appreciation for how much different it is from English. Along with the ridiculous speed in which words are spoken, combined with the accent, which often changes the which syllable is emphasized in a word, the dialect also has a certain ordering of words in many situations, which my slow brain can very seldom rearrange to make sense. On top of these complexities, the usage of many words altogether is completely different from English (ie. Original: Fla da' doe', Gunna! Take out accent: Fly the door, Gunnar! Take out Patwa: Open the door, Gunnar!) Though David spoke much Patwa to me during the week, the primary English phrases I was said to him were: "What?!" and "What... What are you saying?!" and also "What?! Wait...What?!!" Hopefully after five months of being here, I will finally pick up a little Patwa, but my expectations are low.

Though I am pessimistic about the amount of Patwa I am learning, I am most optimistic about the sign language I am learning! Since I got here, I have been working very hard to pick up every sign I possibly can. The ASL (American Sign Language) dictionary I got for my birthday has been very helpful, although the kids have been helping me make revisions to change it to JSL (Jamaican), as there are a number of differences between ASL and the signs that are used here. I like JSL better, but it's possible that I have a biased opinion and I have only been learning sign language for nine days.

The view of campus from my front door.

The buildings from L to R: Dining Room, Infirmiry, School, Vocational Bldg., Dorms

Though I have used my dictionary often, the kids have been the hands down best teachers, and the highlight of my time here. Every time somebody comes, they make the statement that the kids are the highlight, but as corny as it sounds, it's always true. It just is. Period. Making more of a focused effort on getting to know the kids during this trip, I have found that they (obviously) have many different abilities, personalities and faults. I am continually amazed, however, by their collective joy, love for life, and their enthusiasm to not only interact with each other, but also with the hundreds of outsiders that come into their lives every year.

I have never seen someone so excited to teach something as they are excited to teach me sign language. When I ask one kid for a sign, or am looking at my dictionary, it is not uncommon for 2 or 3 to join in showing me signs, and discussing signs amongst each other. Sometimes the younger kids even teach me the wrong signs (much to the older kids eventual amusement when I try to use said signs), but their enthusiasm to teach thoroughly impresses me. Along with my young deaf teachers (students at the school range from 6 to 20) I also have Glenford, the keeper of the tool trailer, to help me out. Glenford is an deaf man that lives at the school as the "groundskeeper", I'll call it. From him I have learned the signs for tool, rake, shovel (spade and flat head!), hammer, screwdriver (Phillips and regular!), chisel, trailer, paint brush, cement, and broom. Glenford is my hero, very funny, and also very enthusiastic about helping me learn JSL.

Along with the signs I have learned these past 10 days, I have also learned a bit about myself. My first couple days on campus, I found myself being very nervous to be around the kids and even avoiding them at times. This was very troubling to me. I had been here before and even recognized many of the kids from my previous trips (and they all recognized me; not too many black Americans come down, I don't think), but this time was different. I knew that I was staying for a much longer time, that I would almost always be without an interpreter, and that I would have to push myself to learn the language and make real friendships with these kids based on real interaction and real conversations, not just joking around playing soccer as I had done on previous trips. I realized that the pressure to have to change myself and face the initial awkwardness of sitting amongst deaf kids, not being able to communicate anything beyond "hi" and "thank you" caused me to temporarily put off starting any relationships altogether. I recognized that I intially felt a bit alienated from the community because I didn't know how interact with them. After I noticed this feeling, I raised the question that if I, a well-educated, outgoing, independent American could feel alienated from a group of the most playful, inviting, and interactive children that I know, how much more alienated a lone deaf person or a lone [fill in the blank] person must feel in this world.

Regardless, after my intial shy period, I forced myself to be amongst the kids. Once I did this, I gained immediate approval, attention, and affection from nearly all the kids. The little kids liked me because the little kids like everybody taller than 5 feet (yes, I'm taller than five feet you clowns) and the big kids like me because I have big muscles (even though I explain that they're inflatable) and because I'm good at soccer. Though it is a good feeling to receive positive attention from the children, I can't help but feel a bit guilty for barely having earned any of their admiration yet. My guilt is minimal, however, as I can already feel the intial baseless infatuation with me that many kids had begin to fade and give way to them liking me for who I really am; a complete goofball who will just hang out all day.

My favorite thing to do (but could also be perceived as evil) is to tap kids on their opposite shoulder. Since they are deaf (and very easy to sneak up on), this is their primary mode of getting eachother's attention. The should tap works EVERY time. Without fail. And then I always look the other way, and with a overly serious face give the sign "NOT ME!" when accused by the grinning youngsters. It's great. Many also enjoy mock boxing matches with me, which I always inevitably lose, in dramatic fashion, I must add. My favorite connection with the kids, however, has been and will always be the soccer ball. I have learned as many signs while juggling the soccer ball with a few of the older kids as I have anywhere on campus. I'm lovin' it, mon!

Sorry for the long post! Thank you if you have somehow made it this far! I promise future posts will be more consise, but I cannot promise they will be more entertaining. Take it easy and keep warm! Much Love.