In Jamaica, it is customary for children to take care of their elderly in the home, and unlike in the U.S., there are no “retirement homes.” However, each parish does have its own infirmary, and I went to the Portland infirmary today. Unlike nursing homes in the states, however, infirmaries are only for people who have no one to take care of them, or are too ill to be taken care of by family.
Before going to the infirmary, however, we stopped at the homeless shelter just down the road. Dr. Paul, the American doctor who owns great huts, has worked to get this homeless shelter started. He is able to regulate many people on medication as well, which is important, because it is really more of a psychiatric ward than just a shelter. However, when we got there, things weren’t as regulated as we thought. The best word I can think of to describe the situation is chaotic. In Jamaica, there are hardly ever real doors and windows because of the heat. This makes it easy for people to just roam around, and a few stragglers greeted us as we walked up. One resident in particular was very difficult, and only added to the shock initially. She smelled awful, and had a very abrasive personality. Completely ignoring the staff calling her name, she would cross all personal space boundaries and ask us questions we couldn’t understand. Finally, we were able to start the music, however, and she settled down, and even left the room at some points.
Since today was our only visit to the homeless shelter, our goals and experiences were very different than if we would be returning. We did a lot of sing alongs and interactive instrument playing of traditional Jamaican songs. In a group of 5 and at times 7, we were able to give nearly everyone individual attention most of the time. A few residents, including the first one, had schizophrenic behaviors throughout the session, which is something I do not know much about. Others were very compliant, but clearly not typical. One man got ahold of the djembe drum and was clearly very talented, doing licks and rhythms that we are learning from Eric. At times, though, he would revert back to what my supervisor called manic playing, which had little musicality.
We stayed there for about an hour with few hitches, and after the first few minutes, the session went very well. At one point, two clients got into an argument and our supervisor almost got hit with a chair, but plenty of staff were around to break it up before anything happened. We left there and headed up to the infirmary to meet up with the other group who had been working while we were at the shelter. We decided to meet for lunch at noon and went to do one session before that.
It’s really hard to even begin to describe the infirmary. We saw people of many ages, from 40s up to 80s would be my guess. Comprised of 4 or 5 buildings, the compound wasn’t too cramped, but felt a little like a maze. There were people all over, in and out of buildings. Some in wheel chairs, some walking, some sitting in chairs or on the ground. Some clothed, some completely naked. The smell wasn’t terrible, just the very strong presence of urine. Diabetes is rampant in Jamaica, so many of the residents had multiple amputations. Because they are not stretched out, some people lay stuck in contorted positions that were visually shocking.
Before lunch, we worked with a group of men in their room, which had about 12 beds and 6 residents. As with the homeless shelter, we sang a lot of familiar Jamaican songs and just encouraged them to sing along and play simple rhythm instruments. Because these people often have no family, we might be the only visitors they get until the next trip comes through. Therefore, eye contact and touch are very important therapeutic tools to use. We sang songs asking each client how they’re doing today, as well as awareness and individual attention songs. Examples of these include “This Little Light of Mine,” and changing it to “This little light of mine, it’s going to shine on Amy,” or “He’s Got the Whole World,” which we changed to “Amy’s got the maraca in her hands,” using my name as an example. We end with a very touching song which goes like this:
May you be filled with love and kindness
May you be well
May you be peaceful and at ease
May you be happy
May you be happy
Each time we go through to another client and substitute their name for “may you.” Set to a beautiful melody with calming harmonies, this was a great way to end our time together, as each client was surrounded with people and music when it was their turn.
After a quick lunch in town (the infirmary was in Port Antonio), we headed back up to do one more session before the taxi picked us up. This time, we were in a large room with 8 or 9 women. For the most part, everyone was sitting up, and if they were laying down, they were still engaged. Some said the smell was worse than yesterday, but I didn’t think it was too too bad. Lindsay and I took some video of each other and the group, which made one woman want to put her arm around everyone and have us video them together. Every few minutes, she would grab someone, call my name, and nod her head to let me know it was time to video. Needless to say, she’s a bit of a diva. I mostly sat by a sweet lady who would put her head on her knees so I would rub her head and scratch her back.
We finished up after about an hour and went to debrief. Soon, the taxi came and we were on our way back to Great Huts, and I was trying to get it out of my head. Needless to say, it is a very unique experience - sad, eye opening, rewarding, disturbing.
Eric had made reservations for us all to go to the Ital Rastafarian restaurant just down the street for dinner. Ital is the kind of food Rastas eat, and it comes from a play on the word “vital” or “vitality.” Tonight, we got the full meal, starting with soup, and ending with fruit for dessert. The soup was amazing, and I plan to go back during the day before we leave to ask for the recipe. I know the broth had a coconut base, and he used a variety of seasonings. He used okra, potatoes, dumplings, peas, carrots, etc., which were so so good. Actual dinner consisted of beans and rice, some kind of cabbage slaw, and vegetable protein similar to the soy meats you might find in tofurky or fake meats. Obviously, his “fake meat” was far less processed, as the Rastas believe in being all natural. It was so good, and lots of people actually thought it was real chicken. I knew it wasn’t, though, because I asked him just to make sure - it did look like meat!
After dinner, we drummed like usual and planned for the next day. I found myself falling asleep during the drumming, so went to bed pretty early, but only after Rudolph (the night watch) made me another cup of tea using the bushes that Lion sent back with us. Tonight was lemongrass and a strong flavored bush for blood detox. It was so good, but had me up at 4 in the morning with a full bladder.
We have a full week ahead of us, but it’s hard to believe we are already 6 days into the 11 day trip. Eric said it would go fast; I guess he knows what he’s talking about!
Lindsay and a resident enjoying music at the infirmary
Enjoying my first Ital experience at Sazi's "restaurant"
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