Like many college students, a little over one month ago, I was sitting in class, dreaming of traveling somewhere warm and tropical for spring break. Again, like many college students, I was soon able to make that hope a reality by traveling to the Caribbean – specifically, Jamaica. However, unlike most college students, I was not there to spend my days laying on the beach or going to local tourist attractions on the coast. Instead, I had the unique and amazing opportunity to spend my break a little further inland on the island, where I got to learn about the Jamaican culture while providing various types of service to the local people with the Bloomsburg University Honors Program. I had the chance to see and talk to some members of the lesser-acknowledged, poverty-ridden population of the island. It gave me a new appreciative for my comfortable life here in the United States – an appreciation that I hope I can bring to others, now that I am home.
At the start of our trip, I was both excited and nervous. After our group exited the airport, we boarded a van and began the two-and-a-half hour drive to our living space for the week. I watched out the window the entire time, mesmerized by the sights. At first, the streets were wide, with multiple lanes running in each direction, and resorts on either side. However, as we drove further inland, these resorts gave way to smaller homes and road-side fruit and vegetable stands. The road became skinnier, with no painted lines, and what seemed like an infinite number of potholes. Eventually, we began to see the distinct signs of poverty – half-finished, abandoned houses. Homes that were little more than shacks cobbled together out of pieces of boards and tin. Some of these were roughly the size of my bedroom. I was surprised and humbled. We had been told ahead of time about the sights we might see. But to hear about it and to see it are two very different things.
When we pulled up to our own accommodations, guilt washed over me. After driving past poverty-stricken families and homes for over two hours, I felt spoiled when I saw that we were staying in a large and impeccably clean dormitory-like building, with a fully stocked kitchen, clean water, multiple bathrooms with showers, and WIFI. It made me think a lot about how the class of society that we are born into will be one of the biggest determinants of how we spend the remainder of our lives. Yet, we can’t control it at all. I fell asleep that night counting my blessings.
The next morning, our group boarded our van again and set off to meet a local priest, who took us around the area to visit different families in their homes. We visited a family of four who lived in a 3-bedroom home – but it was just that, three bedrooms. There was no bathroom, kitchen, or family room. Just three bedrooms. They had very little in terms of physical possessions. Still, they all had positive spirits and the knowledge that their family loves and cares for each other, so they still said that they felt as though they all had a lot to be grateful for.
I saw this pattern of gratitude over and over as the week went on. We visited several schools, and the kids were so excited to show off their simple playground and their notebooks. They were proud of their school, and they fully enjoyed their days there. Yet they were still without working toilets or soap in their bathrooms, or air conditioning in the classrooms. As for all the people we met while building a house for a family in need – they were happy to sit, watch, and make conversation with us as their day’s entertainment. They didn’t need Wi-Fi or Netflix to keep them busy – they interacted with people face-to-face.
It made me happy to see how the students and the neighborhood people could be living a full life without wanting for some of the things that we consider necessities here in the States – especially technology. I ended each of my days wondering if maybe we focus a little too much on material items and the latest tech crazes back at home. (Yes, we do.) I have become more frustrated over the past few months with the increased presence of technology as a replacement for real social interaction. Spending a week in a place where data plans were irrelevant and our iPhones turned into glorified digital cameras forced us all to talk to people when normally we might just scroll through our phones – in the van traveling from place to place, at the dinner table. It was refreshing to look at people and make conversation without seeing their eyes dart down to their device every few moments. I think that interacting in a more genuine way as the people of Jamaica did amongst themselves and with us was a valuable skill that I carried with me when I returned home. I still try to do more of it every day.
On the last day before we left Jamaica, I had one more opportunity that made me step back and call into question my own views in life – I spent the day working in a medical clinic. First, I should say that I remember exactly a week before the trip, I woke up and my ear was hurting. I gave it a day, then self-diagnosed it as swimmer’s ear (a recurring problem for me), and I called the health center to see if they would be able to sell me any medicated ear drops. I remember my frustration when they told me I needed to make an appointment and come in to see a nurse for a formal diagnosis. I was irritated because I was busy, the appointment times didn’t fit into my schedule, and I felt that my own diagnosis was good enough – I just wanted the medication, and I didn’t want to wait for it.
When I think back on this situation now, I am embarrassed. I had been taking for granted the incredibly open access I have to high-quality, low-cost healthcare. At the clinic in Jamaica, there were no electronic medical records; they had handwritten notes on index cards, stapled together. There were limited supplies of medication. There were people who were coming in with injuries or illnesses that had been going on for weeks or months because the doctor hadn’t been in the area for that long, or the people simply couldn’t transport themselves to the clinic. Yet once again, the people I spoke to weren’t focusing on what they didn’t have. Instead, they were very polite and sure to express thanks for our help. They were all contented to receive the basic care our group of four staff members was able to provide. It really hit home for me at the end of this day that there’s no point in worrying about what luxuries I might be lacking, when I at least have my basic needs met.
This entire trip was a wake-up call for me – a very welcome one. I hate to admit it, but I have spent the past 20 years of my life taking so many valuable things for granted. Now, I’m trying to make up for it. I am trying to emulate the positive attitudes of the adults and children I spoke to while I was there. I am trying to be mindful and retain active gratitude for both the basic and the luxury material things I own, rather than foster self-pity over what I don’t have. I am also trying to show my appreciation for my friends and family by interacting with them on a more genuine, personal level, rather than allowing impersonal, technologically-based interactions make up the bulk of my conversations. I am trying to be my best self by adopting some of the habits of the people that I met. I just hope that the people I spoke with and provided service for have felt as though they got something from me, because they certainly have given me a lot.
