JAMAICA – Feb. 2007

THE INFIRMARY

The smell hit me as soon as I stepped out of the bus. Nauseating…overwhelming. It was in the air…in the patients breath…it permeated everything. I never figured out what it was.
It was like stepping onto another planet for me. You see things on TV…hungry children…third world disasters…but nothing prepares you to come face to face with the reality of real poverty.
I was immediately swarmed with smiling faces, all welcoming, happy to have a visitor. Richard greets me first. Richard is a developmentally challenged adult. A happy man, he shakes my hand over and over not wanting to let go. Lorraine is next, a big girl, she wraps her arms around me, and strangles me with a hug. Others say “mornin” with shy nods and smiles. An older women breaks into song and gets everybody going….”If you know the Lord is keepin’ you…what are you worried about, if you know the Lord is keepin’ you, why don’t you sing and shout! Glory, hallelujah, praise his name, everyday is just the same, if you know the Lord is keepin’ you, what are you worried about.”

The singer is Miss Sylvia. Her bible has the signatures of hundreds of visitors to the Infirmary, over the years. It is a well worn book, and I learn that she is an elder in her church. She takes me to meet Wilford, whom she baptized at one time. She says, “ I ‘boptize’ heem.” Wilford lovingly takes her hand and smiles up into her face.
This is the St. Mary’s Poor House..the last refuge of the poorest of the poor. Never has Matthew 25 come alive as it did the first day I went to what is locally called the Infirmary. These residents, embody what Jesus spoke about as “the least of these.”
After my first visit, I went back to camp and cried. It changes you. That’s a good thing. A "healing trauma," if you will. We need affliction....disruption to our life of comfort. Mike Bickle said" If your faith is not disrupting your life, you don't have faith."
These are the stories of those precious souls who live at the Infirmary and the amazing, enduring people of Jamaica. They are the Lord’s treasure in earthen vessels. Treasure hidden on a hill in Jamaica.

Miss Sylvia Cooks – One of the most gregarious of the women, and definitely a spiritual leader in this little community, Miss Sylvia quickly becomes a favorite. Always with a smile, a blessing and a praise on her lips, she greets us and promptly starts singing Jamaican Christian folk songs, and hymns. Her favorite song is “Because He lives.”
"Because he lives, I can face tomorrow…..because He lives, all fear is gone….because I know who has the future, and life is worth the living just because He lives."(Bill and Gloria Gaither, 1970)
Next comes Amazing Grace.
Amazing grace, how sweet the song, that saved a wretch like me….I once was lost but now I am found, was blind but now I see. ( John Newton, 1772)
“Praise de Lord,” she hollers. “Praise de Lord! Praise de Lord!” 3 times…always 3 times.
She escorts me around the women’s building talking a mile a minute. With no teeth and a heavy Jamaican accent, I catch about every 3rd or 4th word and kind of extrapolate from that what she’s talking about. When one of the ladies come up to me, she tells me “she’s wicked…she beats me.” I’ll talk about Sharon later, but she is a developmentally challenged adult that when angry or frustrated, hits and punches. Hard. I tell Miss Sylvia, that Sharon doesn’t mean to be wicked, but that she’s like a child in her mind and doesn’t know any better. I’m not sure Miss Sylvia buys that…but she pauses and looks at Sharon a moment. She was probably thinking, “yes, I know, but she’s MEAN!”

St. Mary's Poor House was built in 1895, and was established by the Queen of England, when Jamaica was still under British control. Each parish had one for the care of those who had no where else to go. Patients are there mostly of their own volition. They can come and go as they please. It's not a nursing home but a shelter. There is food, a bed, and basic medicine's. Most people stay until they die, and that above all it seemed to me, was what the place represented, a place to die. 2 years and six visits later, I realize how ignorant I was, and how blind.
There are many elderly and a few younger looking, like mid 30's and up. Mostly abandoned by family, some are also mentally ill, or handicapped. Some were found in the jungle and brought here by caring people. What I noticed was how those who were able, casually cared for those who were not. It was a family. A community. I had a lot to learn.

Princess - A young woman with what seems like cerebral palsy, unable to communicate, she speaks volumes with her smile and eye's. With no tilt chair available, she lays in bed, 24/7.
I ask one of the Aids her name, and she tells me she's called Princess. She lived at home with her mother, until her mother passed away. She has a sister who comes and sees her but must be unable to care for her needs. I am told she didn't used to be in the fetal position she's now in, and that she just suddenly quit interacting with staff. Depression is what I think to myself. She's developing contractures from lack of exercise and movement. In the beginning I didn't interact much with her, as it proved frustrating. Her repeated, "mwa,mwa, mwa" was indecipherable to me or anyone else it seemed. It was just one day while I was reading to her, and I looked up into her eye's that I really "saw" her. I "saw" Princess. She had this resigned look that seemed to say, "I wish you could see ME."
And that's just what I said. " I see you in there, " I smile. From then on I talked to her as I'm talking to you. Like the intelligent human being she was. She is one of the most helpless of the women. She can feed herself, but that is it. She cries sometimes. I imagine she misses the presence of a loving mother more than anything she lacks materially. And who knows what happens to her in the night...it's a horrifying thought, but one has to wonder about molestation in an unlocked, unattended at times, building full of helpless women.
Once when a church group came with a dinner for the residents, I was just walking around watching them eat as much as they wanted for a change. And also for a change, it was tasty, nutritious home cooked food, the best these good folks had to offer. The traditional Jamaican dinner of Jerk Chicken, Collaloo, Slaw, and peas and rice. (red beans and rice)It was so much fun watching them eat and enjoy their meal. Princess is digging in, and drinking cup after cup of juice. Next time I walk by, she's naked as a jay bird, and her bedding is being changed. I asked what happened, and they said she vomited. Princess, unselfconscious, happily grinned and waved at me. I thought...well how fun...Princess got to eat till she puked. How often does that happen here?