For my 22nd birthday, my roommates and I climbed Blue Mountain Peak. Standing tall at 2256 meters, it the highest point in Jamaica—I’ve got a thing for hiking and climbing, so this was a giant I had been eager to face. It was seven miles up, and upon reaching the summit, we found a sign that had been posted years before: “Welcome to the Peak!”
We had left in the early hours of the morning in hopes of catching the sunrise, but since our guide had not said a word from the moment we left the base camp, since it was pouring rain, since we had walked the majority of the way in darkness, and since our feet were covered in blisters, we turned around and headed back down the trail as quickly as possible.
I stand now at the peak. January 18th marks the six month anniversary of my time in Jamaica: I am halfway through, I have climbed the mountain. The next six months will be my journey back down the trail. The journey of the past months is not unlike my hike up the mountain, for my first steps were taken in darkness. I was blind to the culture, to the language, to the struggles of poverty, and to the everyday challenges of the developing world. But the activities of each day have enlightened and continue to enlighten me. Every person I meet, every experience I have opens my eyes a bit more. Every step I take in Jamaica is more sensitive, more aware, and more confident than the last.
I will always face rainy days, and the trail still gets rocky at times. But my guides in this journey are open and vocal and supportive: I have the teachers at Mount Friendship School. I have community pillars like Miss Doris and Mr. Brooks. I have my bosses, Father Lucian and Amy. I have the support of my community, Lauren, Michela, and Amber. I have family and friends that love me and the work I do here.
The darkness has lifted; I have gained a foothold on the trail of Jamaica. I have learned to stomp out roaches without screaming. I have learned how to cook ackee and saltfish. I have learned to effectively balance myself on busses careening around mountain roads. I have learned to navigate the Registrar General’s Department and the National Health Fund. I have learned to coach a child through Hop On Pop. I am learning to listen. I am learning to be easier on myself. I am learning to ask for help. I am learning to take it one day at a time and to cherish the small victories.
The day of the climb, we hurried back down the mountain, wishing for warmth, for dry clothes and for the pain in our feet to subside. The return journey was shorter—going downhill is always easier. But I have no intention of racing through the next six months. Everyone says that the second half of mission work tends to fly by, but I want to treasure each moment. I am growing closer to the adults and the children in Mount Friendship; I love them and I love the work that I have been granted the opportunity to do. Every day that slips past reminds me that my time here is limited, and that the laughs I share and the hugs I receive will come to an end all too soon.
As the morning of December 23rd wore on, the mists lifted, the sun came out, and our chilled skin warmed. We realized that our trek had not been in vain, for although we had left the peak, we were still able to enjoy the views of the Blue Mountains. I could look out over miles and miles of untouched and uninhabited mountains and hills. It was breathtakingly beautiful.
And from what I can see from where I stand right now, as Miss Betsy of Mount Friendship, the view is breathtaking.
We had left in the early hours of the morning in hopes of catching the sunrise, but since our guide had not said a word from the moment we left the base camp, since it was pouring rain, since we had walked the majority of the way in darkness, and since our feet were covered in blisters, we turned around and headed back down the trail as quickly as possible.
I stand now at the peak. January 18th marks the six month anniversary of my time in Jamaica: I am halfway through, I have climbed the mountain. The next six months will be my journey back down the trail. The journey of the past months is not unlike my hike up the mountain, for my first steps were taken in darkness. I was blind to the culture, to the language, to the struggles of poverty, and to the everyday challenges of the developing world. But the activities of each day have enlightened and continue to enlighten me. Every person I meet, every experience I have opens my eyes a bit more. Every step I take in Jamaica is more sensitive, more aware, and more confident than the last.
I will always face rainy days, and the trail still gets rocky at times. But my guides in this journey are open and vocal and supportive: I have the teachers at Mount Friendship School. I have community pillars like Miss Doris and Mr. Brooks. I have my bosses, Father Lucian and Amy. I have the support of my community, Lauren, Michela, and Amber. I have family and friends that love me and the work I do here.
The darkness has lifted; I have gained a foothold on the trail of Jamaica. I have learned to stomp out roaches without screaming. I have learned how to cook ackee and saltfish. I have learned to effectively balance myself on busses careening around mountain roads. I have learned to navigate the Registrar General’s Department and the National Health Fund. I have learned to coach a child through Hop On Pop. I am learning to listen. I am learning to be easier on myself. I am learning to ask for help. I am learning to take it one day at a time and to cherish the small victories.
The day of the climb, we hurried back down the mountain, wishing for warmth, for dry clothes and for the pain in our feet to subside. The return journey was shorter—going downhill is always easier. But I have no intention of racing through the next six months. Everyone says that the second half of mission work tends to fly by, but I want to treasure each moment. I am growing closer to the adults and the children in Mount Friendship; I love them and I love the work that I have been granted the opportunity to do. Every day that slips past reminds me that my time here is limited, and that the laughs I share and the hugs I receive will come to an end all too soon.
As the morning of December 23rd wore on, the mists lifted, the sun came out, and our chilled skin warmed. We realized that our trek had not been in vain, for although we had left the peak, we were still able to enjoy the views of the Blue Mountains. I could look out over miles and miles of untouched and uninhabited mountains and hills. It was breathtakingly beautiful.
And from what I can see from where I stand right now, as Miss Betsy of Mount Friendship, the view is breathtaking.
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