Shite, it’s been sweeeeeeet!

I know, it’s been a while since my last blog post. More than 8 months, but who’s counting? I started out with such good intentions, expecting to blog at least once a week. But quite frankly, I ran out of things to say. After a while, life in Jamaica becomes routine, albeit a completely new and different routine to the one I was used to. But really, how many times can I blog about the oppressive humidity, the insanity of navigating the transport system, the innovative and relentless catcalls, the “relaxagating” weekends on white sandy beaches, and the challenges of working for an obstinate NGO?

So, what momentous event has prompted this post, I hear you ask? It’s actually rather a sad event. Kimberley, my roommate for the past 10 months is heading back to Canada tomorrow. I suppose it’s all part of the temporary, transient nature of the volunteer experience. Volunteers come and go all the time. But this departure is a tough one.

I first “met” Kimberley (or Kimmie, as only I am allowed to call her!) on a CUSO web-conference, during which I found out that she was also, most likely, going to Jamaica. At that time, although neither of us had final confirmation of our placements, we were scheduled to be in Ottawa the following week for the SKWID training.

I remember very clearly the first conversation I had with her at that SKWID training. The facilitators asked us to group together based on the number of siblings we each had. I was standing with a few other people in a group identified as those with 3 siblings. I turned to Kimberley, and said that I was never sure where to stand in situations like this, as I had 3 siblings, but that one of them had passed away. I felt weird sharing something so personal (and depressing) with a relative stranger, and was not expecting such an empathetic response. She told me she knew exactly what I was talking about, because her husband had also lost a sibling, and always had the same dilemma. Throughout the SKWID training I was struck by Kimberley’s ability to be intense, and introspective and yet at the same time funny and light hearted.

I admit, I was absolutely terrified about going to Jamaica, especially to Kingston, and so you cannot imagine the relief I felt meeting Kimberley in Ottawa. Everything I had been reading about Kingston scared the bejeezuz out of me, and so I practically pounced on her to find out if she’d be interested in sharing accommodation. By that time, I had confirmation of my placement, and although Kimberley did not, she seemed keen at the possibility of sharing. Needless to say, I was ecstatic, and when, on the final day of the training, she got her placement confirmation, I think I was even more excited than she was!

I got to know a bit about Kimberley during the SKWID training. We shared a few meals (although we didn’t get to go for Pho!). Together with Alex (the other volunteer going to Jamaica), we drilled the country person for the truth about living in Kingston, and were taught our first crude Patois phrase (pum-pum daht rool!!). We were also together for quite a few of the group exercises, which is where I first witnessed Kimberley’s dedication and passion for the work she does (gender equality and human rights).

The next time we met was 5:00 am on March 26^th, 2011 at the Toronto airport hotel. I was happy to see that Kimberley also had two fairly large suitcases (obviously not as humungous as mine!), and she seemed as nervous and excited as I felt. We sat together on the flight to Kingston, and shared our first astonished look at the frankness of reporting in the Jamaican Gleaner, and the momentary panic when the plane seemed to be landing on water!

Our first few days in Kingston are now a hazy blur. It felt so hot (boy, were we in for a surprise come July). The people seemed so loud and obnoxious (they still are). And, thanks to Mr. Mason’s back-route driving, the city felt like a confusing maze that I was certain I would never navigate. But what I do remember clearly about those few days, is how I did not want to leave Kimberley’s side. In contrast to my knee-shaking terror, she seemed so confident and at ease. Almost instantly she seemed to understand the lay of the land (a skill we relied on heavily during our many road trips) and could get us from A to B without getting lost. Our first walk through Halfway Tree, one of Kingston’s most frenetic, crazy spots, I scurried behind Kimberley on the crowded, litter-strewn sidewalk. Heart pounding, avoiding the staring eyes of passers-by, trying to ignore the “hey Whitey” calls, I wished I could hold her hand!  

And then, before we knew it, Kimberley and I had secured our fabulous 2-bedroom, 2-bathroom apartment at Abbey Court, with its colonial furnishings, pretentious valances, and incessant Hope Road noise. The day we moved in we had the opportunity of a quick stop at a grocery store, and our purchases were a sign of things to come! Kimberley, ensuring we had something healthy to eat our first night, bought pasta and sauce, and I bought chocolate! I have had many opportunities to sample her exotic and adventurous cooking, and in describing it to my family, they have often questioned my contribution to the fare!

52A Abbey Court has been the social centre for our quickly diminishing CUSO family. Kimberley and I share the love of entertaining and we have co-hosted many gatherings, which, even if we say so ourselves, have been spectacular! Ever the consummate host, Kimberley always ensures everyone’s needs are met, and this is best demonstrated by the thoughtful, creative, and on one occasion, “explosive,” birthday cakes she has made for us. The tradition started with my birthday, when, knowing my obsession with chocolate, she surprised me with a rich, gooey chocolate Ganache cake. Her thoughtfulness and caring in finding out our cake preferences, and then moving heaven and earth to make it happen, is just a small indication of the type of person she is. And although Audrey’s exploding black forest cake was memorable (mainly when it tried to escape on its own accord from the freezer!), it was the look on Anne’s face when she saw her monkey cake (don’t worry, it wasn’t made from a monkey!) that will stay with me always.

It has been many, many years (14 to be exact) since I shared an apartment, and deciding to share with a relative stranger was quite a risk. But Kimberley and I were not strangers for long. Her warm, Maritime spirit, her friendly, easy-going demeanour, and her infectious, at time raucous laugh, made living with her a joy. Within a very short space of time we got into a comfortable, relaxed groove. Doing our own thing and going our own way at times, but always grabbing a few minutes to catch up. Whether it was standing in each other’s bedroom doorways, sitting on the Freud-tell-me-you-problems-couch, or sharing a cocktail at the dining room table, we vented, laughed, cried, and shared our crazy Jamaican experiences.

I know it probably sounds like my volunteer experience is one long party, but believe it or not, some serious work has been done, and I don’t think there are any volunteers as dedicated and committed to the work they do as Kimberley. Although she has had her fair share of frustrations and challenges (hence the need for a Freud couch and cocktails!), I believe that what she accomplished is an inspiration to us all. Personally, I have learned so much from her. When she was in Geneva, I watched with avid attention to the webcast of Jamaica in front of the UN Human Rights Committee, and felt so proud knowing that my friend (and roommate!) was behind many of the hard but much needed questions they faced. I’ve said it as a joke “Kimberley for Prime Minister”, but I mean it! Canada needs someone like her leading the way, and I would not be at all surprised if, in a few years time, I see her face on an election banner – Kimmie, you have my vote!

The tradition at the CUSO farewell dinners is for us to share our thoughts about the person leaving. Due to my inability to hold it together for more than 3 words, I missed my opportunity. I hope this blog post has at least in some small way let Kimberley know how truly thankful I am to have met and gotten to know her.

Kimberley, my volunteer experience would have been so vastly different, and I know not nearly as good, had I not shared it with you. Good luck my friend, and I look forward to seeing you in Halifax, Vancouver, Kingston, South Africa… The sky’s the limit!

Shite, it’s been sweeeeeeet!