Long post alert! It was Peace Corps home and week. Usually in Jamaica we live with host families, for safety. It can be a great experience and or a tough one. It's always tricky to share space with someone else, especially strangers, and find your place in the home. Not to mention navigating personalities differences, boundaries, problem solving, etc. It can be an overwhelming, thrilling, horrific, or a lovely experience. I started reading this book given to me before left the States, "The Girl on the Train", and this page resonated with me soo deeply! Update: In the spirit of staying real about my experience, due to some unfortunate circumstances, I'm also getting a housing and possible site change. Don't worry, I'm ok. 👍🏾#PeaceCorps #PeaceCorpsJamaica #Travel #wanderlust #bloggingabroad #Livingabroad #JA #Jamaica #Volunteer #PCJ #PCV #HowISeePC #PeaceCorpsWeek #PeaceCorpsHome (at Saint Thomas Parish, Jamaica)
It was apple picking day and I was invited to the family home of my colleague Keti, in the village Uraveli. We drive up a modestly paved road, all packed in the car with the children and husband at the wheel. We arrive, are greeted by her parents. Keti points to the majestic mountains to the south :”over there is “Turkey”. I smile.
We walk all the corners of her small farm, between the fruit trees, down steep paths, past the spent tomatoes and peppers, a few still dangle for picking; not yet bit by the frost near the cabbage readied for harvest. We spend our afternoon picking apples and beans. We continue to walk, pick and talk. Her mom says “ the work always goes quickly with extra hands”. .She points out the most precious spots, where the church once stood and candles are still lit; layers of wax from years. The church was destroyed in the war.
But is was on entering the family house, my heart filled, and eyes welled.Built in 1939, no longer lived in, only tended to on the weekends by her, her mother and father. It was so very care worn, yet “untouched”. Images of my grandparents’ home flashed; the smell of food, the chattering of relatives and warmth by the heater; here the pekchi.
This was her grandfather’s house, built by hand and with his brother; every stone placed and board hand-cut. We walk in and she navigates me to “his” room, it was filled with his favorite books; so many, a desk, and personal effects, now all covered in dust. The draws and shelves were packed with his journals. She glows and tells me how smart he was, that he was in the war and had many honors he earned in his life, he was even mentioned in a printed book. She was so very proud of having him as grandfather. Like my memories of my papa’s desk; with his papers, pens and diplomas.
She continues to what was her grandparents bedroom. Opens the armoire and brings out his jacket filled with medals. “may I take a picture?”, “Yes” I take a few, one is perfect.
Unable to forget the emotion as as few weeks had passed. “Would you please write me a short note about your grandpa in Georgian?” She said she needs to ask her father about this. Today, with tears in both our eyes remembering those who served in the war and those who are no longer with us. She passes this along to me and now I pass it to you.
ნიკოლოს კოსტანიშვილი - მისი ახალგაზრდობის წლები მთლიანიას ომის ქარ-ცეცხლს უკავშირდება. მე-10-ე კლასის მოსწავლე იყო როდესაც ოჯახს ომში გაწვევის ცნობა მოუვიდა და ისიც, მის სამ ძმასთან ერთად ჯარისკაცთა რიგებში ჩაირიცხა. პატარა ბიჭმა მისი ემოცია ერთი პატარა ლექსით გადმოცა:
„მიმაცილებდა მეობარს დედა,ცრემლი უკრთოდა მოხუცს თვალებში.მისი ოცნება მეც თან მიმსდევდაძლიერი სიტყვა, ტკბილი ალერსი..“
სრული ექვსი წელი დაჰქო ომში, იყო მუდმივად წინა ხაზზე, 3-ჯერ გადაურჩა სიკვდილს მძიმედ დაჭრილი, თუმცა ვერ შეაშინეს, ვერ გატეხეს.... ომიდან დაბრუნდა 5 ორდენით, 10 მედლით, 14 მადლობით და მომავლის გეგმებით.
მას შემდეგ დაამთავრა ორი უმაღლესი სასწავლებელი სპეციალობით აგრონომი და ქიმია-ბიოლოგი. შექმნა ოჯახი, გაზარდა 4 შვილი და 8 შვილიშვილი, რომელიბიც არასოდეს დაივიწყებენ მის დამსახურებას და აუცილებლად გადასცემენ მის შთამომავალს.
This is a translated version. Some words do not translate to English correctly from this ancient language, please consider this.
Nikoloz Kostanashvili - his early years of the war entirely wind-related fire. I- 10th grader was a family when war recruiting news, and he too, his three brothers enlisted in the ranks of the soldiers. One little boy of his emotions a little poem gadmotsa: "mimatsilebda meobars mother, tears in her eyes, the old man. The dream I had of mimsdevda strong words, sweet caress .. "a full six years dahko war, was always on the front line, 3-times survived badly wounded, but not frightened, not broke .... returned from the war 5 Order, 10 medals, 14 gratitude and future plans. After the two finished a degree in Agronomy and chemistry-biologist. Married, 4 children and 8 grandchildren increased, the romelibi never forget his contribution and will hand over to his offspring.
We had a lovely dinner that evening, all gathered around the table toasting to goodness, life and friendships.
I asked first and place a few peppers in my pockets, then fill a bag of apples to bring home to my host family. No preservatives. Thanks for listening. Doe
