Port Antonio

Today is Sunday. I woke to gospel singing from the nearby shore. I found the music inviting and ventured to land. Everyone in town was dressed for Church, women here still take fashion in hats, and there was a different feeling about Port Antonio. The shops were closed and everyone is spending precious time with their families. Children were smiling and dressed in little suits & dresses, tossing stones in the water, completely innocent. The parents were proud of their children, showing them off as they leisurely strolled through the park, taking photographs amongst the various flowers and under mango trees. I noticed one family using Namaste as their backdrop. Everything seemed right as rain.

The day was passing by in slow motion. Sprinkles would fall for a moment or two, the children continued to play, and the men would clutch the hands of their women. Sundays seem to be a special in Port Antonio.

I met a local homeless man…, an artist. He sat under a mango tree doing crossword puzzles, he asked, “Sir, do you know what a three letter word for ?????” I forget the question but we ended up sitting and talking for a while. He rolled the biggest Jamaican cigarette I’d ever seen and used tobacco leaf as opposed to rolling paper. He had a paint brush tucked behind his ear, his cloth tattered, and dawned with paint speckles.

We spoke for a few hours. People would pass by and think it odd that a white man would be sitting under a mango tree chatting with a homeless black man on a Sunday afternoon, as if all was well in the world.

I spent seven years in college. I consider myself well read, traveled, and educated. However my traveling has been as a tourist and not worth the stamps in my passport. In many ways my education is just starting. I think we all should take time and associate with people we ordinarily wouldn’t give the time of day to. I very much enjoyed my time with “Ramde”, he never asked for money, nor did I give him any, and I learned so much of the people of Jamaica.