JAMAICA 2011

This trip was much shorter than the other trips I have taken to the small town of Port Maria in St. Mary’s Parrish, located in northern Jamaica. This was the first trip where I did not travel with a group. On my own with my own thoughts is not something I usually enjoy. But as usual the gracious people of Jamaica were friendly and helpful. The 2 hour drive from busy Montego Bay, through the crazy Ocho Rios to the boutique Galina Breeze hotel was made more pleasant through Irons, a Jamaican man who greeted me with a hug and let me stare out the window in quiet, then knew exactly when to throw in the bits of Jamaican history.

Galina Breeze looks awesome, even better than when I was there in 2008. The bright, sun-reflecting colors of the buildings accentuate the incredible and brilliant flowers, trees, plants and of course the ocean.

There was no time wasted.

NIght #1 at the Men’s Conference at the Love Tabernacle was a real treat. A team of men from Augusta, Georgia were joined by a handful of Jamaican men. After a very careful “do not move anything” inspection of the sound system, I had computer and midi controller ready to go. We ran the lyrics from the IPad to a projector and screen. The guys sang loud and with enthusiasm, of course after lots of eye rolling and looks that said “you are crazy, I’m not singing”. After 5 minutes all the guys were joined together singing and clapping and even some dancing to all kinds of praise and worship songs.

Jay Ridenour from Boston was the speaker . . . great job. After the message we shared some homemade banana bread from Galina Breeze and some killer Orange Cake made by Miss Maxine, the church secretary. yeah . . killer.

The next morning, after leading the Jamaican staff in a devotion time, we packed up the gear and went to Galina Primary school. The new media center is sweet, and will house the new worship service they are starting in a month. The 6th grade girls came in first. I asked them what they liked to sing . . . and of course . . . Lady Gaga,
Nicki Minaj and some others I had not heard. When I asked what songs they like to sing in school . . . it was all church songs. Trading My Sorrows and God is Good were what they launched out with. I love the way those kids sing . . . . it’s a big, bright sound with that beautiful accent. The little kids joined us. I brought out the djemebe and taught them Not Forgotten, showed some scratching with their voices on the iPad and then showed off the magic piano app. Great morning.

Night #2 brought in the local football team to the men’s conference. I am certain they were not in the mood for some old guy making them sing. But after a few minutes, all the men were up in a circle singing at the tops of their lungs. Since we changed technologies so I could use my iPad for beat, we went this night commando . . . NO LYRICS . . . which really made a difference. Jamaican’s worship music is learned and passed down by mostly by rote, without sheet music or lyrics. So as soon as I would sing a line they had it memorized and we ready to move to the next one. I LOVED IT. I wish that were our culture every Sunday morning.

Day #3 took us to Hampstead (I think). It’s a much smaller and poorer area. The route was very rough. backroads. The room was packed with kids. Right when we walked in they were already fully engaged singing their favorite church songs with their teachers. The kids were so fun. They paid attention and sang back and laughed and giggled. I could do that everyday. When we were done they said good morning to their teachers and said the Lord’s Prayer together, which they do every morning. Sweet.

Our trip to an ACE sponsored farm was so cool. The farm was back from the town. They have installed a slow drip irrigation system. A loan of $1500 allowed Ace to provide the farmer with a Honda water pump, which he used to send water up the hill to a huge container. The tour he gave us was a real treat. We ate real coconut, a jamaican apple and some kind of fruit that look like some alien goo . . . but it was tasty.

The infirmary was up next. A poor house which is the last stop for these men and women. Some can walk, some have not walked in years. Some can speak, some can only look and hope you can read their face. A few have retained some mental functioning, but not a lot. Many are what we would call gone.

Before we pulled in I heard that Radio, a man who I had seen in 2007 and 2008 had died. That sparked my memory of the people I had seen there before. I think the shock was seeing and recognizing so many os the same people. Even the man, I think his name may be Ivan, whose body was shriveled up and non-functional, was still there talking about Pres. Obama and the world. We fed them warm chicken soup, gave them water and just spent some time talking to them.

The emotion for me was not the shock of the place, but that I had forgotten about Radio, and Ivan and most of the faces of the men and women at the infirmary, since I had been away from there for 3 years. Seeing them all in the same place was a board on the back of the head moment. We move on and we do forget. Radio had died, and I had ceased to remember one of the funnier men of the infirmary. I had to be reminded of who he was by being told he had died. Shame on me.Their suffering continues especially after we leave.

Jesus was more than clear on this matter. Caring for the poor, the forgotten, the least (these people are some of the very least to be found) is not optional. Ignore them, and you ignore Jesus. ACE has done such a magnificent job of caring for these men and women many times a week, feeding them, hydrating them and even taking them to the beach in the summer. That is a testament that God has not forgotten these people, and He has sent ACE to intervene on His behalf. The least I can do is to remember these men and women by praying for them and remembering them. The more I can do is to keep going back.

The last night of the mens conference was less than the previous night. But that’s just fine. There were fewer men, but more discussions. Our closing prayer was lead by Jonathan, a young Jamaican man who called on God to work on the sin in our hearts. Powerful. Jamaica needs more men like him . . . powerful.


The food? Jerk Chicken pasta, Butter Fish with soy sauce, Jerk Chicken and always a salad made from their fresh garden. There is always a fresh jug of squeezed juice with meals. Breakfast was some awesome pancakes with callaloo, eggs with peppers, fresh fruit and some killer rolls.

I’m going back. I hope in 2011. But I know it will be in 2012. Can’t wait. Until then, I will remember the people of Jamaica, of Port Maria and of the infirmary. I will keep praying for them until I can get back. I will get back to serve them again. And I will not ignore Jesus.


Peace

Paul