Experience This Moment With Me

(Journal Entry from October 4th, 2008)

Sometimes it is hard to process my experience here. I wish I had a video camera on my shoulder to take with me everywhere I go. Then you would get to soak in all the sights and sounds along with me. So, let me try to capture for you my experience in this moment.

I close my eyes. I hear the soft beat of some Soca tunes cascading from up the road, a baby’s cries pierce through the open windows of my neighbor’s house, and the rumbling of rocks crunching under the wheels of passing cars, trucks and buses. I hear a friendly 'beep beep' between two cars that are familiar with one another, and the occasional sliding of minibus doors as passengers find their stop. There are construction workers hammering down the road, birds chirping, roosters crowing, dogs barking and the usual hissing sound men make as they watch a pretty lady walk by.

I open my eyes. I see a couple chatting on the veranda across the way, lines of laundry hang in the afternoon sun, and my neighbor is sweeping out her house with a broom made from palm leaves. The mango, guava and banana trees rustle in the cool breeze, a young boy runs through the street barefoot, and a couple of stray dogs rummage through the litter on the street for something to satisfy their hunger. I see a mountainous landscape covered in lush greenery, dotted with lovely houses that are raised on stilts. Then there is the sky; oh the clouds. Everyday I make it a point to watch the sky. It is extraordinary to always see in the sky so many different types of clouds, of all different sizes, and at different altitudes. As I look up I see the three main types of clouds, the Cirrus, the high-level wispy looking clouds; the Cumulus, the mid-level puffy heap clouds; and the Stratus, the low-level gray clouds with breaks of clear sky in them. There are also all different combinations of these three main types, and I don’t know their names, but it is a sight to see. It is truly beautiful. This doesn’t happen in the sky back home. Finally, every once in a while I see Rasta’s gallop down the street riding their horses bareback, though not at this moment.

Then there are the smells. The flavorful scent of the breadfruit, veggie, beef stew that my host mom is making drifts to the porch from inside the house, and occasional a catch a scent of the marijuana smoke that wafts from a few of the near by houses.