Jamaica
I have been in Jamaica for the past week and a half. If you dont know about my annual trip, I go with Wright State Catholic Campus Ministry to St. John Bosco Boys Home in Mandeville Jamaica every winter. There are 150 orphaned boys here who have been (in most cases) taken away from their families due to abusive situations. Some have just been abandoned and found on the side of the road and brought here. We come to spend time with the boys and give them the attention that they should be getting from everyone. I came here last year on my first trip, not knowing what to expect. I got to know 150 of the most amazing boys alive. I always saw brochures and pictures of children who needed sponsors in other countries when i was little. Coming to Jamaica, I am now able to put an identity to those faces. I get to know these boys and they get to know me as well. They all call me Skinny, which is kind of ironic...them being poor, starving Jamaicans and all. When i went home, I always thought about them and prayed for them, not knowing how much of an impact i had had on their lives.
I let 50 weeks pass before coming back again, missing the boys the whole time. I wondered whether or not they would remember me. The day i came back, I was quickly reassurred that they did. It was as if i never left. The boys who i got close to, i remained close to. I found out that nothing really changes in Jamaica over a year. The boys really do miss us when we are gone, i could tell it in their faces. They were glad to see us. When we broke out into our groups for school, some of the boys were placed into the VBS group. 2 of them refused to do any work in VBS because they wanted to be with me in choir. That made me feel good. It made me feel loved. I got them switched to choir, and they were better.
I started to think, though, that i wasn't getting as much out of my trip though, because i wasnt feeling the same way that i did last year. I realized, though that it was because, at this point in the trip, i really hadnt learned anything new. It wasn't a new experience for me like it had been the previous year. You only have that feeling of doing things for the first time once. I was concerned at first that it was a bad thng, but then i realized that I was just feeling at home at Bosco. I belong here. There is not one thing that makes me uncomfortable here. Yeah, i am roughing it here, but there is not one thing that bothers me about that.
At our evening devotion, some of the girls were talking about some of the experiences they were having with the boys. How they were confiding in them and stuff. I got upset because i havent had those experiences. I still felt like i was getting something out of the trip though. The boys constantly invite me to take part in their chores. One morning, i was invited to go kill some chickens. I was unsure of it at first, but once Mr. James showed me how to do it, i had my try at it. Let's just say that i failed miserably. I let the chickens suffer like 15 seconds longer than usual. O well. So im not cut out for the butcher trade.
When i was walking back from the butcher shop, one boy, Mark Grant, called my name ("Skinny, Skinny"). I didnt even see him until then. I turned around and asked him what he was doing. He said that he was thinking about his mother and father and grandmother and uncle back home. I sat down, and he spilled everything to me about what was on his mind. It was a special time for me. He is my new favorite boy, even if he does misbehave. I felt bad that i had been yelling at him all week in choir for not singing. After that, i knew why, and so it was hard to yell at him to sing after that. He knew, though, that i still cared for him, even if i was yelling at him.
Today, i had a life-changing experience at Bosco. We were all repairing the playground and painting it, and i was in the warehouse helping to gather supplies. The next thing i remember is Sr. Susan yelling into the warehouse for anyone who knew CPR. I had learned it a long time ago before i got my Eagle Scout. I figured that was better than nothing, so i went with her. She said that one boy was found in a water holding tank and they didnt know how long he had been there. She said that it was very possible that he was dead. Thats a scary thought. It hit me like a ton of bricks. We came on the scene, and i called John over, because i knew he was an Eagle Scout as well. Since i wasnt very confident, i trusted that he knew more and could help. I didnt even stop to think that we had a few nursing majors on this trip with us. When he and I got over there, the caretakers had him on his back, and he was breathing, but just barely. John quickly turned him on his belly so that the stuff would get out of his throat. When we carried him to another spot so he could have room, Patty showed up. She had apparently just taken a course in CPR, so she knew it. We were doing all kinds of things to get him to breathe better. This whole time, he was unconscious. It was scary, but we stayed calm. When a bunch of this mucousy crap came up his throat, i reached in and pulled it out with my fingers. i didnt want him to swallow it again. Eventually, he started breathing better, but remained unresponsive. We carried him over to Sr. Susan's SUV so that he could go to the hospital. When i got to the SUV with him, there were already 2 WSU people there to help carry him into the hospital along with 2 nursing majors and John, the Eagle Scout. I wanted to go to the hospital to, since i was with him the whole time anyways, but there was no room, so i stayed back. Eventually, we got word that he got to the hospital and started crying there. I was relieved to hear that. He was going to be okay. All of the boys naturally assumed that he was dead, and it was sad. they treated it like it was not that big of a deal. Thats what made it sadder. Yeah, some of them were upset, but i dont think it hit them in the same way it would hit most people. When the people got back from the hospital, they were pretty shaken up. All people were talking about was how lucky it was that Patty and John were there to save him. It kinda frustrates me that they didnt notice little ole me was there too. Not that this situation should be a reason to beg for attention, cause it isn't, but it just sucks standing back watching 2 heroes getting praise for something, while another person (me) isn't. O well. I guess i am used to it anyways because of the theatre industry that i am in. I dont get credit for half of the crap that i do. I figured that something like this would be different, but apparently not. O well.
Tomorrow is another day, so there are more suprises to be had. We have a choir practice at church and the birthday party tomorrow. It should be fun. We are also gonna work on building a lid for that water holding tank as well. Kinda late, but better to be late than never. More later... For now, lata mon.
I let 50 weeks pass before coming back again, missing the boys the whole time. I wondered whether or not they would remember me. The day i came back, I was quickly reassurred that they did. It was as if i never left. The boys who i got close to, i remained close to. I found out that nothing really changes in Jamaica over a year. The boys really do miss us when we are gone, i could tell it in their faces. They were glad to see us. When we broke out into our groups for school, some of the boys were placed into the VBS group. 2 of them refused to do any work in VBS because they wanted to be with me in choir. That made me feel good. It made me feel loved. I got them switched to choir, and they were better.
I started to think, though, that i wasn't getting as much out of my trip though, because i wasnt feeling the same way that i did last year. I realized, though that it was because, at this point in the trip, i really hadnt learned anything new. It wasn't a new experience for me like it had been the previous year. You only have that feeling of doing things for the first time once. I was concerned at first that it was a bad thng, but then i realized that I was just feeling at home at Bosco. I belong here. There is not one thing that makes me uncomfortable here. Yeah, i am roughing it here, but there is not one thing that bothers me about that.
At our evening devotion, some of the girls were talking about some of the experiences they were having with the boys. How they were confiding in them and stuff. I got upset because i havent had those experiences. I still felt like i was getting something out of the trip though. The boys constantly invite me to take part in their chores. One morning, i was invited to go kill some chickens. I was unsure of it at first, but once Mr. James showed me how to do it, i had my try at it. Let's just say that i failed miserably. I let the chickens suffer like 15 seconds longer than usual. O well. So im not cut out for the butcher trade.
When i was walking back from the butcher shop, one boy, Mark Grant, called my name ("Skinny, Skinny"). I didnt even see him until then. I turned around and asked him what he was doing. He said that he was thinking about his mother and father and grandmother and uncle back home. I sat down, and he spilled everything to me about what was on his mind. It was a special time for me. He is my new favorite boy, even if he does misbehave. I felt bad that i had been yelling at him all week in choir for not singing. After that, i knew why, and so it was hard to yell at him to sing after that. He knew, though, that i still cared for him, even if i was yelling at him.
Today, i had a life-changing experience at Bosco. We were all repairing the playground and painting it, and i was in the warehouse helping to gather supplies. The next thing i remember is Sr. Susan yelling into the warehouse for anyone who knew CPR. I had learned it a long time ago before i got my Eagle Scout. I figured that was better than nothing, so i went with her. She said that one boy was found in a water holding tank and they didnt know how long he had been there. She said that it was very possible that he was dead. Thats a scary thought. It hit me like a ton of bricks. We came on the scene, and i called John over, because i knew he was an Eagle Scout as well. Since i wasnt very confident, i trusted that he knew more and could help. I didnt even stop to think that we had a few nursing majors on this trip with us. When he and I got over there, the caretakers had him on his back, and he was breathing, but just barely. John quickly turned him on his belly so that the stuff would get out of his throat. When we carried him to another spot so he could have room, Patty showed up. She had apparently just taken a course in CPR, so she knew it. We were doing all kinds of things to get him to breathe better. This whole time, he was unconscious. It was scary, but we stayed calm. When a bunch of this mucousy crap came up his throat, i reached in and pulled it out with my fingers. i didnt want him to swallow it again. Eventually, he started breathing better, but remained unresponsive. We carried him over to Sr. Susan's SUV so that he could go to the hospital. When i got to the SUV with him, there were already 2 WSU people there to help carry him into the hospital along with 2 nursing majors and John, the Eagle Scout. I wanted to go to the hospital to, since i was with him the whole time anyways, but there was no room, so i stayed back. Eventually, we got word that he got to the hospital and started crying there. I was relieved to hear that. He was going to be okay. All of the boys naturally assumed that he was dead, and it was sad. they treated it like it was not that big of a deal. Thats what made it sadder. Yeah, some of them were upset, but i dont think it hit them in the same way it would hit most people. When the people got back from the hospital, they were pretty shaken up. All people were talking about was how lucky it was that Patty and John were there to save him. It kinda frustrates me that they didnt notice little ole me was there too. Not that this situation should be a reason to beg for attention, cause it isn't, but it just sucks standing back watching 2 heroes getting praise for something, while another person (me) isn't. O well. I guess i am used to it anyways because of the theatre industry that i am in. I dont get credit for half of the crap that i do. I figured that something like this would be different, but apparently not. O well.
Tomorrow is another day, so there are more suprises to be had. We have a choir practice at church and the birthday party tomorrow. It should be fun. We are also gonna work on building a lid for that water holding tank as well. Kinda late, but better to be late than never. More later... For now, lata mon.