Christmas in the Ghettos

I remember telling myself while we were distributing toys in the ghettos that I needed to come home and write all that I saw so it would be fresh in my mind. And of course there wasn't time immediately following the Christmas Treat and then the next day I was so exhausted and day after day went by and here I am several weeks later just now sitting down to attempt to describe what may just be the best Christmas I've ever had. I am hesitant to say that...knowing my mom and dad might be a little upset that the 21 Christmases prior to this one were all topped this year and I was a thousand miles from home! But Christmass 2008 was so much different from all the Christmases before that I don't know that it necessarily "beat out" all my prior Christmases. It is really in it's own category. I had been told some really crazy stories about past Christmas Treats. Most people said it was really great, but they never wanted to do it again...What was THAT supposed to mean?! I was about to find out, but before I begin I will say that it was really amazing AND I would probably do it again! Once we started driving away from My Father's House and toward the first ghetto I was excited. As we approached where we would stop someone motioned to look over to the left. Running along the sidewalk and in the streets were hundred of kids...they knew we were coming. It was as if they had been anxiously waiting since the vans had driven off last Christmas. As we continued to drive along kids kept popping out of every gate and doorway. They were running toward the front of the caravan and soon enough all the children were joined by young woman toting little babies in their arms, young men, and even old grandmas hoping to recieve teddy bears for some of the many grandchildren they have been given to raise. The plan was to pull into a church and give the pastor the allotted amount of food for each town (he would then distribute it) and then to hand out stuffed animals from one of the vans. From past experiences they have decided the best way to pass out the stuffed animals is to keep all the doors and windows of the van locked except the front two windows which are lowered just enough for stuffed animals to fit out and not low enough for people to push their way into the window. As you have probably figured out, these people REALLY want stuffed animals. They will do just about anything for as many as they can get. As we quickly learned... The plan was to return to our vans once we heard the band that was traveling with us start to play "Oh come all ye faithful." We heard the song and all started heading back to our van. We were almost all in the van when several people from the town noticed the trash bag with stuffed animals in the back of our van. Two young men were really begging us so someone opened the bag and handed them each one. This seemed to satisfy them, or so we thought. Someone from the crowd thought it might be worth it to try pulling at the trunk door...and unfortunately for us, the door was not locked and they began jumping in the back of the van grabbing at the stuffed animals. One of the Jamaican men traveling in our van came rushing over and tried closing the door on them forcing then to jump out, they managed to grab several stuffed animals. We finally had everyone in the van and we started to drive away and just as we did they opened up the trunk door again and dove in the back...grabbing as much as they could. They ended up getting nearly an entire bag I think before someone jumped out of our van and slammed the door shut again and waited there till we were able to get the key to lock it. It was a bit frightening and probably not the best way to start of the morning. Fortunately, this was the biggest mishap and the rest of the morning was eventful in mostly positive ways. We stopped in 4 more ghettos. The second ghetto was pretty uneventful. What I remember most is that many of the people could care less about the food we handed them. The dogs were more than happy to gobble up the food from the boxes that people simply tossed on the ground as they said "Me no ungry. Me wah teddy bear." It's sad that people are so ungrateful, but you really have to take things like that with a grain of salt I have learned. They are just brutally honest. They would rather have a teddy bear that will last for years to come than a full belly that will no doubt be empty again in a few hours. The positive moment for me in that ghetto was when I had one box of food in my arms looking for someone who might actually want it and I looked over and saw to little children, a brother and sister no doubt, wearing nothing but their underwear. The little girl had a box of food and a teddy bear, the little boy only a teddy bear. I approached them slowly because based on the looks in their eyes they had never seen a white person before. I dropped down onto my knees and asked the little boy if he was hungry. He nodded his head yes. So, I stuck the box of food under his arm because his hands were busy holding tightly onto his new teddy bear. I told him to hold it tight and until he reached home. He just nodded. Man, they were so cute! The next ghetto was where I met Gloria. She was an old woman who I came across on the street while I was handing out boxes of food. She already had food, but she asked me where she could get a teddy bear. I told her she had to go around the corner and wait in line outside the police station (where we had left the stuffed animals for them to distribute). She looked at me with sad eyes and said "They won't give an old lady a teddy bear." I told her they would but she needed to go stand in line. She had a glimpse of hope and started heading in that direction. Not long after I was standing on a corner opposite the police station. I saw her walking away from the line. At the same time, Fr. Gregory came over to see how Chelsea and I were doing. I told him about the old woman and how I really wanted her to get a teddy bear, but it didn't look like she would be able to. As soon as I finished the sentence he yelled over to one of the many men who work for him and he told him he needed a "very special teddy bear for someone." So, off Hanson went into the crowds for the teddy bear just as Fr. requested. Fr. told me to run over and catch the old woman before she was out of site. I ran over and grabbed her shoulder. I whispered "stay with me someone is going to get you a teddy bear." As we stood wating I said "my name is Sarah." She grinned and said "I'm Gloria. Now we are no longer strangers." I told her I was a nurse and she got really excited and told me she was diabetic. So we chatted about that until Hanson appeared holding a big stuffed dog above his head. He saw Fr. who motioned for him to bring it over to me and I gave it to Gloria. She was so happy! Now, onto the next ghetto! I made another friend! We stopped near the bus park in downtown Kingston. So, as buses pulled by the food truck hands would stick out the windows. We would jump up and hand food to the bus passengers and the bus drivers who certainly deserved a free meal as they spent their Christmas working! There was a lull in buses so I took a few boxes of food and crossed the street to where there was a plaza with many people sitting or passing through. I handed out a couple of the boxes of food and noticed a rastaman not too far from where I was handing out food, but he didn't seem too interested at first. Then I starting to walk in the opposite direction and he came up and told me he was heading to Port Royal and he would like a couple boxes of food to give to some kids. I am assuming he was making up the story, but either way I was going to give him the food! Then he started talking to me. Very typical rasta talk at first. Telling me he doesn't judge by the color of skin and what not. It turned out to be a pretty lengthy conversation. He told me his sister has a boat and he likes to go catch fish and if he ever runs into me again he'll get me some fish. He was a really nice guy who was happy to have someone listen to him I think. I certainly didn't mind chatting. Oh, and his name was Solomon! And finally, the last ghetto...Trenchtown. Trenchtown as in the ghetto you hear Bob Marley sing about as well as the ghetto you hear sung about in newer reggae songs. As we approached Trenchtown, Terrance, the Jamaican with us pointed out Bob Marley's house and we saw why the ghetto is called Trenchtown. There is a trench that actually seperates the town into two and we were told that most people from one side are not allowed to cross over to the other side of the trench because of territorial rules and the gangs that run the ghetto makes sure the rules are followed. As we continued to drive through we were quickly joined by hundreds of running children. Many of the streets had been blocked off with piles of anything that could be found (bed frames, washing machines, car parts, etc.). This is to prevent the police from driving through the ghetto. Although, I have a feeling most police wouldn't take the risk even if the streets were not blocked. Finally, we reached the stopping point. There were huge government housing buildings lining the road. I wished so bad I had brought my camera. These buildings cannot even compare to what Americans picture when they think "housing project". They are several stories high and each "apartment" looked like a single room that was about the size of an average bedroom in the States. Maybe smaller. I obviously didn't go inside any of them so I can't be sure exactly what they look like. What I really noticed from the outside was that there was no green anywhere. All the grass and dirt had long been replaced with concrete. There were a few trees here and there, but just barely enough to cast a shadow on those sweltering hot days. The people in Trenchtown were noticeably poor. The children were wearing rags, if anything, over their underwear and many of the adults were similarly dressed. I handed out food until we ran out. Then, I headed to the "juice" truck (Jamaicans call any and all drinkable liquid juice!). I stuck my hands up and the people in the back of the truck just kept passing me cans of juice and soda. I would try and get it to the smaller kids who were two small to push their way to the front of the crowds. While I was doing this I handed a woman carrying a small child a can and she looked at me with the most sincere eyes and in the most grateful voice told me she was so thankful for what we do. Jamaicans do not really understand affirmation. They never tell each other "good job." It's something that seriosuly lacks in this culture so for this woman to gracioiusly thank me was really beautiful. Once we had run out of all our food, drinks, and teddy bears we heard the band play "Oh come all ye faithful" and we headed to the vans. As we drove out of Trenchtown Chelsea sat next to me and said "I never ever want to forget what this place looks like." And that is exactly how I was feeling. Who knows if I will ever return there. If not, I am glad I had the oportunity to experience Christmas in Trenchtown once. As you can see, Christmas 2008 was certainly one to remember. I hope you enjoyed reading. Sorry this has taken so long to post! I also hope everyone reading had a blessed Christmas and New Year! God Bless!