These photos were taken on black and white film...
The people of Jamaica are among the most friendly I’ve encountered. This means that I was rarely yelled at and mostly just stared at. The social economics were a lot worse than I expected. So many tourists visit Jamaica every year that one would expect they would in some way share the wealth—not true. Foreign investors soak up almost all of the tourist dollars, along with some local shops nearby. Goats are tethered to stakes in ditches on almost every road since the owners have no land. Most homes are three scrap-board sides with a partial roof and sometimes a piece of plastic for a fourth wall. The stark poverty leads foreigners to avoid areas in the most need. I spoke with a guide whose family works in the sugar plantations in the mountains. They carry fifty pound bundles of sugarcane down the mountains on their backs, 12 hours a day, six days per week, all for about $1.50 USD per day. And they are the lucky ones because they have a job. So when I was approached several times by upper-class Jamaicans with cell phones wanting to know if I wanted my hair in braids for the low cost of $100, I had a few choice words for them.
The drivers in Jamaica are amazing. There is nothing quite like flying around a pinhead curve which is one lane and tall stone walls on either side at 100/km per hour—the maximum velocity the vehicle can go. This is the case with all taxis and buses. I was in the back seat of a bus during one such occurrence and all the luggage piled to the roof behind me came tumbling down nearly knocking me out. A man who assists the driver came running back and repiled the cargo. Then sat next to me, and every time we came to a curve (or goat) in the road, he jumped up and spread his arms across the luggage to shield me. Not impressed, I asked him if there are a lot of accidents in Jamaica, he replied, "Yes, and they are usually fatal." Nice to know. Turns out that Jamaica has the highest traffic fatalities of almost any other country.
A small fishing village was my favorite place. I don't know the name, and it was quite obvious that foreigners do not visit. Everyone was very friendly, but some children ran screaming when they saw me--I still have the touch. An old fisherman was cleaning some fish from a fresh catch. The fish were every spectrum of color and very small. His grandchildren were playing near the boats. When I approached him, he had the most genuine smile I've ever seen and insisted that I worked for National Geographic. I readily denied this, but he just pointed to my camera and insisted that I did otherwise I wouldn't be there. Then he called his grandchildren to come over and get their picture taken for the magazine. Thankfully they ignored him and I was able to have a great conversation with him about many topics. Among them was informing him that it was winter where I was from and there was two feet of snow on the ground, and that people fish through ice on the water. This crafty man wasn't having any of that nonsense. He told me that it has never snowed in Jamaica, and the idea of cutting through ice to fish was apparently inconceivable.
On another occasion, I went horseback riding though some of the mountains and ended on the beach. Then the most unnatural thing ever - riding a horse in the ocean. I'm not sure how this is considered to be recreational. The saddles had to be switched to loose cloth ones with a loop for a handle in the front. These horses are practically Clydesdales and thus were very strong--as were the waves. The horse reluctantly walks into the ocean and as soon as he reaches the breakpoint, you can see it in his eyes, sheer terror. He can no longer reach the ground and so you plunge down into the waves and the horse's eyes bulge out and he raises his nose so as to not drown. The horse is going in countless erratic directions, and the waves in another. So I'm half floating away with the waves and grabbing this drown-looking animal for dear life. It was an experience everyone should have, but I couldn't do it again because the pitiful horses behave like cats in water.
Speaking of cats, many countries have copious amounts of stray dogs; Jamaica has its fair share too. What woke me up in the middle of the night, almost every night, were the stray cats. Meowing, fighting and lost kittens made sleep quite the challenge. I tried to catch some; obviously they weren't having that, not even when bribed with food. So I left some food out for them and buried my face under the blankets.
