Day 2 – St. Ann (Ocho Rios, Great Pond, & Browns Town)
With a long drive to St. Ann, the decision was made to hit the road early. I was up before the sun and trekked across the rickety bridge with the gear I would need for the day. I ate my bun and cheese and looked out over the bay, only to see Johnson on his balcony taking in the bay as well. I swung the van around to the lower road and picked up the team. We set off for St. Ann with a Google map pin and a time to meet the zinc guys at Sister Duncan’s house.
This is where the guy’s got there first taste of my driving. A little background, I like to get from point A to point B as efficiently as possible and I love to drive in Jamaica. Driving on the opposite side of the road from the opposite side of the car that I’m used to is no problem. The liberal use of the horn to communicate with other drivers is delightful and sans consistent road signs and marking is liberating. Imagine something between Mario Kart and Mad Max, that what we are talking about. We bobbed and weaved through traffic, overtook vehicles right and left (and I mean that in every sense of the word). There would be hooping and hollering as I blew the horn and mashed the gas followed by boyish giggling when we shot the gap and returned to our lane safely.
Along the way, the team got their first look at the destruction Hurricane Melissa left in her wake. From St. James, through Trelawny, and into St. Ann, we passed downed power lines and trees, damaged rooftops, and hilltops stripped bare of leaves and limbs. It was sobering to see to spread out in front of us, but I found hope in the green sprouting leaves cropping up, which had not been there just three weeks earlier when Shawn Anderson and I first came back. The land was already healing, and that meant her people would too.
We made record time, even when I missed a turn at the roundabout outside of Ochie because I was telling a story. It could have been a costly mistake, in terms of time, because it put us on the toll road highway that ran from Ochie all the way to Kingston with very few exits and a concrete barrier between lanes. I managed to slip back around in front of the toll booths and hook back down to Ochie. We were a bit early, so we stopped for patties and box drinks at Juicy Beef Patties. We got a case of bottled water at the market next door, and learned quickly that we easily could have done with more.
The pin the Medleys shared with us took us to Brother and Sister Francis’ house. Sister Francis greeted us and pointed over the fence to Sister Duncan’s house, where we would be putting up zinc on her damaged roof. We got a call from Brother Shawn Jones, who was supposed to meet us, and he was down by the clock tower in Ochie, so we dropped part of the group off to survey the house and wait for the zinc guys, and Blake and I went to pick up Shawn. He works security at night and was just getting off work, and had accepted a priesthood assignment to meet up with us and take some pictures of our work.
When we returned to Sister Duncan’s, the zinc guys still weren’t there, so the decision was made to salvage what zinc we could to recover a portion of the flat roof up front and save the new zinc for the main part of the house. We removed rusted, bent, and cracked zinc and stacked it around the side yard. The sun was bright, but the day hadn’t grown hot yet. We were surrounded by beautiful, great trees and hills with the ocean off into the distance. There was wind and water damage, but this was not the scene we had anticipated operating in.
This was our first chance to work together, and we quickly learned that it would be a joy. We joked around, and everyone pitched in. When a problem was identified, we talked it over, and the best idea won, and we all got behind it. Even if it wasn’t a particularly good idea, we all just rolled with it. Like when Anderson needed to get around a concrete wall between the porch and a window, and I walked up underneath his position, held up my hands, and told him I’d get him. He gracefully stepped onto the perch I had made with my hands and swung his leg over the ledge to the window. Sister Duncan gasped, and we all laughed and carried on.
At long last, the zinc guys arrived, about an hour late, and we unloaded 40 sheets of zinc and 150 pellets. President Ordean Bolt, the branch president, also showed up, and we were so glad he did. He brought an extra drill and some longer self-tapping screws than the ones we had. Anderson and I made a quick run to the hardware store to get a different bit for President Bolt’s screws and dropped Brother Jones back by the clock tower. By the time we got back, President Bolt, Johnson, Svenson, and Joel had already started laying zinc. The day was a little hotter by now, and the zinc reflected the heat right back on us.
I climbed up on the roof to do my part and immediately gained a new respect for the guys who had laid all the zinc to that point. The pitch of the roof was insane. I was literally clinging to the top, so I didn’t slide back down the backside. With more than a little difficulty, I managed to screw in three screws to fasten the top part of one sheet of zinc. I got cuts on my legs from the broken shingles and cuts from the zinc digging into my arms. With my blood on the zinc, I decided my skills were better suited for hauling heavy stuff and handing things to skilled people. That was the beautiful part of this team. Our skills, talents, and desires all meshed so well.
The wood on the house was not in good shape, nor were the walls, which made it important to watch where you stepped and not have everyone up at the same time, so some of us hauled zinc around and ran our one ladder to where it was needed.
It was early afternoon when the front side was finished, and I took the van up the road to get everyone some lunch. I found a chicken shop and chatted with the ladies who ran it. They enjoyed my patois, and when they told me how much it cost, I joked, “Oy, the white people price dat?” They laughed and actually threw in two extra boxes and drinks when they learned we were there to help with the hurricane relief. I returned to Sister Duncan’s, and we took a break for some chicken, rice, and peas. We sat in the shade, and the clouds actually covered the sun for a few minutes. With a little breeze, it was quite pleasant. It was a good opportunity to get to know President Bolt a little more. He’s a convert to the church and was called to be branch president just a year and a half after being baptized. It was amazing to feel his faith and work alongside him.
With our bellies full and a pretty good system in place, the backside of the house went much faster. Once the house was finished, we were tasked to get the rest of the zinc we did not use up to Brown’s Town. After talking over the merits and risks of strapping a dozen sheets of zinc to the top of a rental van, we decided it would be wise and prudent to lay half the seats down and load the zinc inside the van. It fit just like it was made for it, width and length. Anderson laid down on it like a bed since we lost a seat and picked up a passenger.
President Bolt had gotten a message that his father was in the hospital in St. Ann’s Bay, and Johnson offered for us to take him there to see his father and that we’d stay with him until he knew what was going on, and that we’d take him with us to Brown’s Town. I opened St. Ann’s Bay on my mission, so it has a special place in my heart, and I knew right where the hospital was, so we loaded up and headed to the hospital.
We arrived in the late afternoon and were beginning to worry about losing daylight, having another roof to repair that day, when we reached Brown’s Town. President Bolt went inside, and we were told only one person could be admitted per patient, so we waited outside. After some time had passed, and we hadn’t heard anything, Johnson took President Bolt’s backpack and asked security if they would let him take it in to him. They agreed, and he found President Bolt had been told his father had passed away. At the same time, I got a call from Miriam Rose, who we were supposed to see and serve in Brown’s Town. She told me that President Bolt’s father had passed away and told us she was more worried about him than a roof, so she asked us to stay with him and make sure he wasn’t alone. Of course, we agreed, and I went to see if I could sweet-talk my way past security. Let me just say, a little patois goes a long way. I found Johnson and President Bolt near the back of the facility. We waited with him to see the doctor and get more details. While he called relatives to let them know about the passing of his father, Johnson and I talked about learning of the passing of his mother and my grandmother while we were on the island. The Lord sent Blake Johnson to be with President Bolt in that moment, of that I have no doubt. Johnson shared with him the sacred grace that comes to us in our grieving, and we offered President Bolt a blessing. We found a semi-quiet grassy spot behind the hospital with a concrete pad for him to sit on. There we placed hands upon his head, and Johnson voiced a beautiful blessing of peace and comfort. We all embraced and walked President Bolt back to the male ward where his father’s body lay. I went and updated the team, still waiting in the van, and we stayed at the hospital until his brother arrived from Trelawny.
Night had fallen by the time we left the hospital, and we still needed to get up to Brown’s Town. Per Sister Rose’s directions, we took a country road back up into the mountains through Priory and Bamboo to get to her house. The roads were very curvy and steep. In the dark, it was quite the adventure to reach Sister Rose. Once we reached up to her yard, she came out to meet us. We quickly discovered that she had no power, no water, and no internet. Still, she was not even wanting service for herself but for others. The roof we were to repair was someone else’s, and she had cooked chicken, rice, and peas for us, which was incredible. She had gathered a list of people who needed help and was working to serve them, in addition to collecting things she wanted us to take with us to help those in St. Elizabeth. We were all too happy to provide her with tarps, ropes, lanterns, and water filters. Immediately, Sister Rose contacted neighbors who came to get the things, and she served us a delicious meal. We learned that Sister Rose is the reigning Miss Jamaica Universe, which was pretty awesome.
Side note, the final member of the fellowship, Jory Bulkley, arrived earlier that afternoon, and with everything going on, we were unable to get him back in Montego Bay. Sister Lee once again came to the rescue and picked up Jory and took him to the full-time missionaries serving in Mobay, and Jory had spent the evening with them.
Late late into the night, we left Sister Rose and started our journey back to St. James and to Bulkley. This time it was down the winding, narrow, mountain roads instead of up them. When we reached the road along the north coast, I put it in high gear, and we tried to make up for lost time. I find a friend on the roadway who was just as committed to expediting the journey and just as uninterested in the rules of the road. Together, this unknown motorist and I zipped and weaved our way back to Mobay. Some unfortunate soul got pulled over by the police right in front of us, clearing the way for this bullet train caravan we had formed to roll on. We got back to the parking lot at the El Greco, and the guys took their first trip over the busted-up sky bridge to the elevator, and we met up with Bulkley, who the missionaries had dropped off at the hotel.
Bulkley was the era after ours, and we didn’t really know each other. He was bunking with me, so we all gathered in our room and got to know one another. To borrow a phrase, we all just clicked. It was apparent that this group would fit together like bun and cheese. Superbly. We visited even later into the night and planned for the next day. We had a devotional, and I shared a quote my wife sent our family group chat from Elder Dale G. Renlund about what we were doing: “We are to use the gifts we have been given-time, talents, and blessings-to serve Heavenly Father’s children, especially the most vulnerable and needy.” We reflected on our day and how we had all come together and could already see and feel the Lord’s hand in it. We prayed and prepared to depart Mobay early the next morning. I took a shower to wash the sweat and muck of the day off me. Bulkley and I stayed up way too late talking about life and family, and parenting. He arrived on the island the transfer I left, so we had never met, but I was already a fan. I said a prayer of thanks for the Lord bringing us all together.