Jamaican Journal – Day 3

Last night I slept very well. For me, that is a necessity. I get grumpy when I don’t have adequate sleep and nobody likes a grumpy preacher. I am not totally convinced that the reason for my restful night was my ‘new’ sleeping position, but that it may have been the slope climbing in the dark that sapped my strength to resist. Whatever the reason I thank God for it. I was pleasantly surprised when I got out of bed, to find that the shower was unoccupied and that the heater switch was already turned on. To my amazement the water was too hot to get in so I had to turn on the cold about halfway to get it right. For my first dousing I decided to use the big bowl that the little bowl I used yesterday was floating in. Why didn’t I think of that yesterday? The big bowl would splash three times the water on me than the one I used yesterday, so I picked it up and threw it over my head. There was so much water that it bounced right off of me and blew out the shower curtain behind me. Water had completely soaked the fuzzy bathmat and was gathering in a puddle on the floor. I had to jump out and get a towel to dry it up but the water that was still running off of me was making the floor even more wet. I eventually got most of it dried except for the fuzzy mat, and continued with the joyous experience of a hot Olympic baptism service. Although, I did revert to using the smaller, less powerful bowl from yesterday. 

After showering I sat down for breakfast, well I did get dressed first because otherwise it would have been really awkward. As I sat down for breakfast I found tuna fish and toast, along with instant coffee and juice. There was also cereal there, but I didn’t have any, partly because I didn’t want any and partly because there didn’t seem to be any sweet milk or non-sweet milk on the table. Sister Gail said that she wasn’t sure if I would like the tuna, so she made me an egg. I couldn’t let that go to waste so I ate that too. There was also an orange and Mangerine. I think a Mangerine is like a Tangerine with fewer seeds, otherwise I could not see the difference. Jonathan scurried past me shouting “Momma! There’s water on the floor in the baffroom.” I don’t think I will be giving him any more candy. 

When Pastor Nathan returned from renewing his car insurance, he and I loaded the film gear into the car and drove to the first of two orphanages that we would be visiting – Hanbury House Orphanage. When we got there, I saw a mother and baby cow and more goats right in the yard in front of the orphanage office. We passed a delivery truck that was parked by the entrance to the office and there were a bunch of children hovering around the back. Just then, out walked a 10 or 11 year-old boy with a slab of ribs about 4-feet long, hung over his shoulder. When I looked into the back there was a group of children butchering a large hog with a machete. Pastor Nathan asked if I would like to have my picture taken beside the pig and I respectfully declined. I couldn’t see how that would be a very endearing missions photo and I wasn’t thrilled about standing that close to children with sharp machetes. We were told to set up in the Salvation Army chapel, so we unloaded and set up the equipment. The children were gathering while we set up and several walked up to me and hugged me or grabbed my hand. There were a total of about 73 children and 3 or so adults. The youngest child was a baby and the oldest was 17. The majority were elementary school aged. 

Pastor Nathan opened up by introducing us and telling them that we had a Christmas movie to show them. We watched Mr. Donut’s Christmas special. The smaller children seemed to really enjoy it. After the film Pastor Nathan called me up to speak to them and to share a song. I told them about how I was born with a hole in my stomach and that no one thought that I would live. How my mom didn’t even take pictures of me until I was a year and a half old because she didn’t want to grow attached to me in case I died. I told them that even though I was very small (about 1 lb. because I was 3 months premature) and had no belly button because of the scar from my stitches, God saw something special in me and had a plan for me to share the love of His Son with the children in Jamaica. I told them that God could use them too, regardless of what their situation looked like or whether or not anyone else saw anything good in them. He had placed a gift inside each of them and could use them if they gave that gift back to Him to use for His glory. I told them that if God could use a no-belly button runt like me, then maybe they could believe that God would surely be able to use them. I sang the song “I Don’t Know Why Jesus Loved Me (Oh But I’m Glad He Did)”,after that, we prayed and went outside to pass out candy. There seems to be no organized way to pass out candy to small children and some got too much while a few got none. We thought that there would be enough for everyone. I felt really bad about it, I didn’t want those who got none to be left out but we had no way to get more. I apologized repeatedly to those who got none and a little boy came up to me and gave me a toy eggplant which was broken in two halves. I really dislike eggplant in general, but this one holds a special place in my heart. I will keep it as a souvenir of my trip. 

When we got home I checked for an email from Millie and was called in for lunch. It appeared that we were going to have pepper-steak with rice again, but Sister Gail let me know that it was mutton. I told her that I thought mutton was lamb meat and she said that in Jamaica there are very few lambs. This was goat meat. I had never eaten goat meat that I can remember, but I will say that it was quite good. It tasted like beef. I don’t know why it is not very popular in the states. I’m sure there is some reason that I probably wouldn’t want to know, so if you have any information in regards to this, please keep it to yourself. I would rather not spoil the experience. 

I neglected to mention in my previous journal entries about the Jamaican smoke. It seems that there is always something burning somewhere in Jamaica. On the way to Mandeville from Montego Bay we passed through many smokey areas. I asked Pastor Nathan what the smell was because it seemed that neither he, nor Kenny noticed it. Pastor Nathan said that it was either people clearing fields for farming or it was burning garbage. At one point in the drive my eyes began to burn and water severely and I could hardly breathe. Sister Gail said that it was Boxing Day, which is the holiday in Jamaica on the day after Christmas. I thought that it was the day when everyone went to the boxing match to watch a heavyweight title bout, but Sister Gail told me that it was a time used to do annual cleaning around the house and yard. People burn a lot of garbage on this day. I asked if they didn’t have a garbage truck service in Jamaica and she told me that most people did, but still did quite a bit of burning besides. Since then I have noticed smokey smell in several other places and it’s not even Boxing Day anymore. I think they should call it Burning Day or Smoke Week or something other than Boxing Day. Nevertheless, I have no say in the naming of holidays or incinerating events, so I will keep to myself about it until the time that someone asks me what I would call it if it were up to me. 

Pastor Nathan took me this evening to go to a church about 45 minutes away to show a film and share a few words of encouragement. When we got about 5 minutes from the church Pastor Nathan got a phone call from the Pastor of the church that we were going to and he needed to cancel the film ministry for the evening. There was going to be a big dance in the town that evening and the speaker system would be so loud that it would drown out the sound system Pastor Nathan was bringing for the film projector. We had to turn around and go back home. Pastor Nathan kept apologizing about not getting to minister. I told him that I was fine with it, the Lord didn’t want it to happen so He changed the plans we had made. If it was His will that we be there, He would have made it happen. No dance would have stopped Him. He could have stopped the sound system at the dance if He desired. I have peace that He is in control of our steps. Pastor Nathan said that most ministers that come to stay with him get very upset when things don’t go as planned. I told him that what they don’t understand is that things do go as planned. Maybe not as we planned, but always according to His plan. 

Pastor Nathan asked me if I liked yams because he wanted to stop at a yam and salt-fish vendor to get me something to eat. I told him that I hated yams because they remind me of the orange squash my mother made me eat every Thanksgiving growing up. It always made me sick, like I was eating out of a diaper. He stopped anyway because he just knew that I would like Jamaican yams. When we pulled in to the lot there were about ten different food vendors and two people came running at our car holding some kind of food wrapped in tin foil. The young man at my window cut off a piece for me to try, I asked what it was and he said roasted yam. It looked and tasted like a baked potato. Then Pastor Nathan told the man to bring back an order of roasted yam with butter and a portion of salt-fish. Salt-fish is cod fish that is rolled in salt and roasted whole (minus the head and guts) in the charcoal pit. There are many bones in it but it was good. We left there and went to the house. I guess Pastor Nathan was right again. For a thin man he sure knows a lot about food. 

Sister Gail made some kind of cheese spread sandwiches with lettuce for dinner. I had never seen sandwiches like these. I saw that she had left a glass of diet Pepsi for me so I took a drink. It tasted like someone had poured motor oil and stale beer in the glass with the diet Pepsi, either that or the salt-fish and cheese spread had somehow formed a lethal combination which permanently damaged my taste buds. When I caught my breath enough to speak I asked Sister Gail what she had given me. She told me it was Vita-Malt, a non-alcoholic malt beverage rich with B vitamins. She must have thought that I needed the vitamin boost because my hair would not grow. I think it has started growing now, not on my head but my tongue. I hope that was the last time she gives me Vita-Malt. It was hideous tasting. After dinner I went into my room for the evening. I needed to get to bed and try to forget that I ever experienced this abomination.  Goodnight and God Bless.

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