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| Paul, volunteer in Jamaica |
''Was I going to be able to cope taking a group of kids by myself? How was I going to work around my lack of sign language? [...] Anyway, thanks to Miss Cilda insisting all the senior boys turned up, and also thanks to Ryan, Mr Lewis' son, who signs perfectly and kindly acted as my interpreter, I think I got away with it. Just. I wonder if I can get away with the same with the girls tomorrow?''
Around teatime Saturday, the persistent drizzle that had been falling since early afternoon advanced itself into a steady downpour that quickly shrouded the surrounding hills in a thick mist that made it difficult to decide where the heavy grey sky finished and the lush green lanscape began. By the time dark fell, the wind had whipped itself up into a frenzy and the rain had begun to lash down with the kind of ferocity that makes even a precipitation-hardened Northerner like me cower inside. Barely 24 hours in Jamaica, and three days after the official start of Hurricane Season, and I was being treated to my first tropical storm.
48 hours later and the rain has yet to let up. There are peaks and troughs in its intensity, and the violent wind that woke me up several times Saturday night has more or less subsided, but bar for one particularly crazy week of rain I remember in Leeds one October about 10 years ago when I vividly remember Clarendon Road being turned into a small river, I can confidently say I have never seen so much rain fall in my life. So much for the tropical roasting I was expecting from JA!
Rain like this obviously brings its problems. There are reports of extensive flooding around the island already, and with the weather forecast predicting more of the same possibly for the rest of the week, there is a real concern of some very serious damage being done. And this could be just the start - Miss Veronica, one of the ladies who works here at CCCD, told me that they are predicting a particularly bad wet season this year, with as many as 16 major storms forecast in the coming six months. Looks like I picked the wrong year to leave the good old miserable British summer behind.
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| The main school building during a rare bit of sunshine |
Closer to home, the rain has given my first few days at the CCCD a slightly strange feel. Apart from the fact that I can currently barely hear Junior Murvin's 'Police and Thieves' booming out my laptop such is the noise being made by the rain thundering on the roof above me, it has meant that I've spent a considerable amount of time cooped up in my apartment twiddling my thumbs (or reading). Despite regular empassioned pleas from some of the kids for a repeat of Saturday's impromptu cricket match, strict school rules against playing out in the rain (as well as the laws of general sanity) have unfortunately prevented such an occurence. It has also thrown a bit of a temporary spanner in the works of my brief as sports coach.
Anyway, after a very quiet (and damp) first weekend in JA, Monday morning finally rolled around and with it my first proper day at school. I actually felt quite nervous when I got up at 6.30 to shower, dress and get to the dining room on time for breakfast at 7 - was I going to be able to cope taking a group of kids by myself? How was I going to work around my lack of sign language? After breakfast, the day started with Devotion (what I'd have called assembly at school), which included the brilliant sight of all the kids sign-singing hymns. At the end it was my turn to stand up and be introduced by the Principal, Mrs Demercardo, and I even had the honour of being given a sign-name - after some debate it was decided it should be the signs for my initials signed against the open left palm, and early variation being rejected for apparently being too girly. Well, either way, it saves me painfully fingerspelling my entire name everytime I'm asked.
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| Sports Club in full effect |
After Devotion I had a meeting with school administrator Mr Nicholas Headley and Mrs deMercado (Miss Cilda when out of earshot of the kids) deciding what it was they would like me to do during my time at the school. It's pretty straight forward - at present the kids have very little in the way of structured sports or PE, so they want me to run a series of after school sports clubs for different age groups and the two sexes, as well as offer some help with informal sports and games for the residential kids after supper on an evening and at weekends. Oh, and as an added challenge I will also be trying to organise an end of term Sports Day / Activities Day, possibly as early as a week on Friday. Eek. I think the idea is that if a clueless outsider with no sign language can give the kids a bit of structured sporting activity they enjoy and get something out of, it should be easy to follow up more formally next school year.
So, after a quick tour round a sodden Mandeville courtesy of Nicholas and a meeting with Paperfoot (aka Charlton Francis), my official mentor and main contact with the sending organisation back home, it was onto my first sports club - an hour-and-a-quarter with the senior boys. Given the fact we couldn't go outside, this was probably the toughest first assignment I could have had - with pretty much all the sporting equipment I'd brought / been given by two visiting benefactors from the States at the weekend, namely footballs, volleyball, tennis gear, badminton gear, a cricket set, and baseball/softball set, being negated by the weather, what exactly was I going to do with 15 or 16 teenage boys in an indoor auditorium? A lesson in planning for all eventualities, methinks.
Summoning all my reserves of blag, and quickly consulting a list of kids' games I'd downloaded from the internet, I struck upon one that might just work - Chinese Ball. Basically involving getting a group of people standing in a circle and throwing a ball around, with anyone who drops it having to drop out, I reckoned I could pass it off as a cricket catching training drill. I even fancied I could do a bit riffing on the idea by a) using two balls at once and b) getting anyone who dropped the ball to stand in the middle and try and obstruct throws around the circle, earning the right to get back into the circle by blocking throws and thus encouraging a bit of teamwork. Or something. Anyway, thanks to Miss Cilda insisting all the senior boys turned up, and also thanks to Ryan, Mr Lewis' son, who signs perfectly and kindly acted as my interpreter, I think I got away with it. Just. I wonder if I can get away with the same with the girls tomorrow?
Paul, volunteer in Jamaica
Project part of CREATIVE INCLUSION
and supported by EACEA
and the Youth in Action Programme
of the European Commission.
For more info about Creative Inclusion, visit the special webpage, clicking here.
To read more about Paul's volunteering in Jamaica, visit his blog : http://nogsjah.blogspot.com/
