#1
Two months since returning to Jamaica from Japan, let the apples and oranges talk begin. Where apples is Japan and oranges, Jamaica. Unless we are talking otahetie or mikan, then everything becomes the same mixed up thing. Both places become one. In me, in us, in our experiences.
There is, of course, no use in comparing two places so vastly different. But it is also unavoidable. I was born here in Jamaica, and lived here for most of my life. But I spent a total of 12 years living in Japan. I am a little mixed up.
As I continue to navigate this return, beyond this two month point, I will write down some of the things that come to my mind while my family and I are doing some of the things we do.
Those raw first couple of weeks are behind, and things are starting to feel a little less stark now. So, let us write.
Black River Safari
This past weekend, we went to the Black River Safari, the crocodiles and the birds and the boat ride thrilled the children. For the adults, the river itself, particularly a section called Mangrove Avenue, was very nice. The tour guides were interesting too. One of them, I learnt, is from South Manchester like I am. The main guide was a trainee, he was fun, mixing up his scripted lines with some other things. At first, it seemed like another guide was going to do the tour, and he started out introducing himself, as, among other things, ‘your Crocodile Dundee‘ for the day. When the trainee took over, he did the same intro. After the tour, the children were eager to see the crocodile nursery and hold a baby croc. The older child wanted to hold one by himself, but the trainee was instructed by a superior not to let go because the croc was not relaxed, and, well, neither was my son.
Box Food, Beggar and Parrottee Bay
The trainee recommended a nearby restaurant that we went afterwards to buy some box food and endured so many stares. Later on, we theorised that maybe it’s because it was Black River, a relatively small town. But they see tourists all the time… Anyway, I seemed to be the only one aware that we were being stared at. My husband also had the outstretched palm of a beggar find his direction repeatedly, wordlessly. I, whose blackness caused me not to be the target (this is a theory also), gave the man something.
We drove a bit further down the road to see Parrottee Pond and the birds (and more of the plastic garbage that’s everywhere). Passed where you get the boats to Pelican Bar and decided we’d go there another time.
Whisky Sour and Security Guard Customer Service
Friday, before the crocodile Saturday, I had my first night out since coming back. A hotel longue. Ran into an old school friend who introduced me to a drink called a whisky sour. They even had Suntory on the menu. Don’t know if that’s what I was drinking. It was good.
Sunday after the crocodiles, I continued to wonder about the purpose of security guards checking off your receipt when leaving the supermarket. On this occasion, I had a box with my groceries, and the receipt was in my bag on my shoulder. I was holding the box with both hands, and couldn’t/didn’t want to put it on the floor to get the receipt. I asked the security guard if she could see the receipt in my open tote. She goes, Miss puddown di box here so (getting up from her seat), cause mi no supposed to a go inna yu bag. What I wanted to say, and this is the main apples and oranges part, Yu should get up from yu si mi a come wid di box an no receipt inna mi han. I said, Thank you very much.