Personal Narrative: Living In A Small Town

Throughout the 25 minute bus ride, I could feel the nerves radiating off of the 30 something teens and adults. We quickly learned to savor these bus rides, no matter how uncomfortable, as they provided the only escape from the Jamaican heat and humidity, that hung over us heavily wherever we went. Rolling into the village, the first person we saw was a boy, no more than 13 years old, flipping us off while smoking a joint. Looking at those sitting around me, I could see the surprise and astonishment, as well as apprehension towards how the rest of the people living in the small town would act and how receptive they would be to us being there.
Stepping off of the bus, the humidity hit me like a wall. Looking around, we discovered that there wasn’t even a large enough tree or building to provide protection from the sun. The kids that had been playing in the pile of rocks and sand that was to be used to fill in a foundation, had run off to hide from this new group of strangers. Looking across the street, the only public building was a bar, which served as football central, packed with men watching the Men’s World Cup games. Before setting up our tent for the children’s ministry area, all 64 of us went to look at the houses that we would be working on for

As well as the tremendous amount of joy they had while living in some of the worst conditions. Eventually the whole village welcomed us, and we could see the transformation in those living there. Men that sat along the safest path down the mountain everyday smoking helped roof one of the houses on the last day. Women stood around the children’s ministry area, first watching all that surrounded them in disbelief, but eventually joining in on singing and helping the kids with their craft projects. It would be amazing to go back someday and see how the village