I went to Jamaica for 10 days over Christmas break. This was
my second time visiting Jamaica with the Ignacio Volunteers to do service, so I
thought I knew what to carry. I was wrong. I carried hygiene products and gummy
vitamins. I carried 3 different combs and a silk pillowcase so my hair wouldn’t
get nappy. I carried an empty water bottle and high expectations. I carried
five different pairs of shoes (even though I knew I would never need that
many). I carried my makeup and Tony Chachere’s . I carried my vanity. I went to
Jamaica in 2013 and this winter I went back as a team leader. My job was to guide the students through
their experiences and be a peer liaison. While there we visit many different
heart-wrenching places. We visit Mother Theresa’s Home for the Destitute and
Dying, an orphanage for severely disabled children, and Bustamante’s Children’s
Hospital where we work in the burn ward.
While at the hospital I met a little girl named Kyra.
Kyra was 8 years old. She had long wavy hair and a beautiful
complexion. She looked like she didn’t weigh over 80 pounds and she carried a
huge white cast. I asked her what happened, why she was wearing a cast that was
bigger than she was. She explained to me that she lived with her grandmother in
Brooklyn but was in Jamaica visiting her mother. During that visit her mother
got angry with her, broke her arm, and burned her with an iron. She burned her
with the iron, several times. From the top of her arm, to the tops of her
hands. For a second I wanted to curse. I was so shocked. I didn't expect her to say something like that. I wasn't prepared. I wanted to ask her why her mother would
do such a thing. Is she on drugs? Is she crazy?! I carried my emotions. I
carried my anger. I carried the pressure of being cognizant of my facial
expressions so that Kyra wouldn’t be alarmed. I carried my tears, I didn’t let
them loose.
I carried a 45 pound duffle bag through the airport. I
carried my passport. I carried the need for a hot shower and an air conditioned
home. I carried souvenirs for my friends and Jerk sauce for my mom. Tucked into
my backpack as a makeshift bookmark I carried a picture Kyra drew for me with
her phone number and address so we could keep in touch.
I thought I knew what to pack for Jamaica, I thought I was
prepared.
Wow! First, let me applaud you for volunteering and being able to eloquently write what it must be like for a volunteer to be faced with so much senseless inhumanity towards the innocent and the inability to truly stop this adversity. A kind heart and a listening ear are sometimes the only things we can offer to people in situations like this as you proved. I congratulate you for being able to selflessly do a thing not many of us are ever capable of.
ReplyDeleteFirst of all, its so awesome that you got the opportunity to volunteer in Jamaica. Also it is very wise of you to carry some tony's, even all the way to Jamaica. I am also glad to read that you formed a deep bond with Kyra and that you carry the plan to keep in touch with her. I really admire your ability to keep your tears in and your facial expression easy.
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