So, reluctantly, I put on my shorts, my sturdy runners, and my dark sunglasses. Maybe, I figured, I’ll just do a little walking and shopping right close to the ship in the tourist section. I don’t feel like getting all dressed up for a tour, even though I’ve only got three more chances in Jamaica to see the Dunn’s River Falls, something I don’t want to miss. Even as I stepped off the ship, my legs were getting heavy, but my heart was urging me onward.
The bus taking tourists to downtown was $3 per person. Still thrifty, and eager to dodge all the very pushy vendors, I opted to walk, and was quickly joined by a couple of passengers, Robin and Brian, who were like-minded. They had a map, so we were sort of all following each other.
Well, what I thought was going to be a spiffy little jaunt turned out to be about a 3-mile hike along a busy highway, with no shade in the 86 degrees blazing-hot Caribbean sun – much more sun exposure than I had anticipated. I was sweating buckets. Still, something in me was determined to journey on.
I don’t think we ever really reached “downtown.” But after that much walking, we started turning down streets and searching for the place where the buses were dropping off their loads of passengers. We had passed a straw market along the way, but collectively decided to keep going. Still, something about that straw market was calling my name.
We wandered into a very busy and dirty section of commerce where there wasn’t a single white face to be found. But Robin was looking for a mall. Problem was – every “mall” we passed was more of a shopping centre, and usually we’d take a look at it from the distance and agree, “Uh… let’s find the next one,” and we’d keep walking further.
So with this same adventure happening at every new corner, we zig-zagged thru the streets of downtown Montego Bay: me insisting on returning to the straw market, Brian and Robin fruitlessly searching for a ‘decent’ mall. Probably not the best idea. I was quickly discovering that not only did Brian’s sense of direction usually keep us on the sunny side of the street, it was also leading us in circles. In our attempt to dodge vendors, we began mostly ignoring the people we passed, for which I sort of felt bad (this is the way foreigners begin to get the impression that all Americans are stuck-up and snobbish). Until one of the taxi drivers that approached us finally got downright angry and told us, “Look, I’m just trying to warn you that the direction you’re headed is the wrong part of town. You really don’t want to go that way.” About that same time, we saw three military policemen walking down the center of the street wearing Kevlar vests and carrying M-16s. Yeah, at that point, Brian finally gave in to my insistence to turn back in the direction of the straw market.
When we got to the market, I knew we would find other passengers there – it’s the same sort of trinkets-and-cookie-cutter-t-shirts place that is found in every port. Still, Brian and Robin weren’t convinced that they wanted to shop here. So finally I had to put my foot down and wish them a safe journey, but that I was going to stay here and look for a taxi back to the ship. I wasn’t crazy about the idea of wandering around by myself, but somehow I had a peace that I’d be ok with God’s direction.
I wandered back through the vendors, and actually peered into a few shops, presumably seeking some new sort of blue dress or skirt and top to add variety to my performance attire. But as I ducked my head into one small hut, the shade seemed to be considerably cooler, and something stopped me in my tracks. There was an old woman sitting there with an American baseball cap and a toothless smile, along with one called “the Birdman,” who was putting the finishing touches on his latest mahogany bird sculpture to add to the collection of five he had to sell today.
This woman asked what I was looking for, and I told her I was just looking for a spot to rest for a moment. She pulled up a stool beside her, and we began the normal conversation. ‘Where ya from? First time in Jamaica? How you like eet so fah?’
And then there was something else. Nothing in this shop was even close to what I might have come shopping for, and the time was growing close for me to return to the ship. As I fanned myself with a page folded in half, the old woman and I began to compare and contrast ourselves – old/young, preferring the heat/preferring the cold, and the obvious: white/black. That’s when she said the words that confirmed why God had brought me here, to this hut: “But we are all one world – one Maker.”
She saw my eyes light up. Two Christians now recognized each other. Her name was Nita Thompson, and she is more than 80-years old. Without hesitating she went on to share her testimony of God’s Goodness in her life: how He had brought her a husband and taken him too, and how she had been miraculously healed of gallstones after his passing. Praise the Lord! During the course of our conversation, I was blessed to meet her daughter, granddaughter, and 6-months old brand new baby great-grandson, Everton. She never stopped smiling, not once. There was so much wisdom in Nita's eyes, such unbridled compassion in her heart.
The fruit man came by and for about $30 Jamaican (about 50 cents, US), gave her a yellow banana and a green orange, peeled and ready to eat, as was his daily custom. She shared the orange with me, which was surprisingly sweet, and told me her daily routine with the ripe banana for breakfast was to keep her young. [Jamaicans rarely eat ripe yellow bananas – instead, their Official National dish is aki-and-codfish, a style of mashing boiled green bananas and mixing it with shredded fish, and most Jamaicans eat it for breakfast every single day. They love it!]
Finally I could wait no longer and made up my mind to get back to the ship. But I did promise to remember her in my prayers, and to share her testimony with all of you back home, that you might pray for her also. We took a picture together, and she blessed me with a palm-sized wooden plate, decorated with scenes of Jamaica.
THIS is the part of Jamaica that you can’t buy on an excursion. These are the people God sent me here to learn from! These are the lessons you can’t learn in church, or from a book. THIS is the entire reason I sing for retired senior citizens who can’t hear me anyway – so I can receive the blessings the Lord has set before me, and so I can pass them on to you. Please keep Nita and her family in your prayers, as will I. And remember that God is so Good – He will show Himself to you in all the places you least expect it!
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