NEPT April Newsletter

I recently put together another newsletter for NEPT, my agency and I wanted to share it with you. The easiest way to see it is to go to the NEPT website and click the link from there. It should be easy enough to find, but it was posted there on April 16 if you need to search for it.

You can also take a look around the website if you want - one of my co-workers put it together and it's awesome!

www.nept.wordpress.com

Enjoy!

Just another Sunday

“Did you hear what happened at 23/7?”

“No, what happened?”

“Well, it’s kind of not there anymore…”

23/7 is (was) a bar about half a mile from my house. It was a really cool place – a bar right on the beach that never closed, had amazing pizza and a truly laid back vibe. There are plenty of bars on the beach in Negril, but this was one of the rare places that would let you sit at the bar for hours and didn’t really care how much you ordered (which is key for PCVs who make less than $10/day). When you did order, they had delicious drinks, awesome pizza and cold, cold Red Stripes ready. In short, it was one of our favorite places to hang out, watch the sunset and play bananagrams.

But all good things must come to an end, right? I got a call from Eric today (fellow Negril PCV and fellow 23/7 patron) who informed me that the bar was no longer there. “Um, what do you mean, not there?”

Apparently, late last night the owner (a middle aged Canadian man) got into a huge fight with a Jamaican – I think over a girl. The fight involved machetes and baseball bats and the Jamaican man got pretty cut up. He was taken the hospital to get all his cuts stitched up, but as far as I know he’s gonna be alright.

And the owner? He was caught by the cops at the airport while trying to flee the country. He’s in jail now, and no one is really sure what’s gonna happen to him.

After Eric relayed all this to me, I took a walk down to the bar to see what happened. The bar was a completely open bar, with a big thatched roof, lots of tables and chairs a big circular bar and thick, wood bar benches. Well, the tables and chairs were all gone, the flags, posters and signs on the wall had been taken, the alcohol was long gone and the bar itself was being taken apart by 2 Jamaicans who are planning on using the wood in their house. One of the bar employees was trying to sell off the equipment that was left – huge gas tanks, industrial stoves, etc. He has no idea what’s going to happen to the land or the property, and said he didn’t have enough money to try and take it over. (He did ask if I wanted to invest some of my money and go into a partnership with him. Thanks, but no thanks.) It’s a prime spot right on the beach and a good amount of property, so I can’t imagine it’ll stay vacant for long. I guess only time will tell.

In the meantime, it looks like we’ll have to find a new spot for bananagrams. There’s never a dull moment in Jamaica…

1 year mi de!

Last week was actually a pretty big deal for me and the rest of my Peace Corps training class (big up Group 80!) It has officially been a year since we started our Peace Corps service. It has been, by far, the fastest year of my life. I cannot wrap my head around the fact that I’ve been here for a year, and neither can most of the people that I talk to about. Now, I could get all deep and emotional about this, but instead I’m going to steal and idea from Sara Ray. She’s a fellow GW alum and a fellow PCV serving in Macadonia. For her one year anniversary, she wrote about the day she had arriving in PC and the day she had one year from that. I really liked the idea, so I’m going to do the same.

March 17^th/ 18^th, 2009:

I woke up around 4 am on the 17^th for my trek to JFK. My mom and I got my 3 big bags in the car, and pulled out of the driveway in the dark. I wasn’t really sure what to think, or what to do with myself. I was trying (unsuccessfully) to keep all my expectations in check and just make it on to the plane. And after a sad goodbye and an anxious wait, I was in the air on my way to Miami for staging. I don’t really remember much of the plane ride, but the next memory I have is standing on the sidewalk in Miami waiting for the shuttle to the hotel. There was an older man standing about 50 feet down, and I decided to go out on a limb and ask if he was with Peace Corps. He was. We rode together to the hotel to meet the rest of our training class, making small talk along the way. Here was the first of many expectations I had to adjust – I assumed that almost all of the volunteers would be young, like me, but in actuality, half of my training class is 50+. We got to the hotel, I got to my room to freshen up, rest and regroup. After about an hour, I timidly went downstairs for lunch, registration and “staging”. Like most orientations, staging sucked. It was boring, involved a lot of paperwork and felt never ending (thankfully it was only a few hours). While sitting in a room listening to headquarters staff drone on, I remember thinking how unfair it was to make us sit through this – I just wanted to get to Jamaica already, and this extended layover was not much fun. I did have a good time getting to know the people in my training class though, and after walking around Miami a little bit and having a couple pints of Sam Adams in the hotel bar (it was St. Patty’s day after all), we headed up to bed. I was nervous, and didn’t know what to expect. The people in my training class were nice, but was everyone just on their best behavior? Would I like Jamaica? Would I be good at whatever job I was placed into? Would I fail miserably and come running home after a few weeks? I went to bed with all these thoughts swirling, but thankfully was able to get a decent night’s sleep once, enjoying my last night state side.

I woke up on the 18^th a bit confused. Was this actually happening? I had waited so long to get to here – it had been over a year since I had turned in my application, and about 6 months since I had received my invitation to serve in Jamaica. It was a little surreal that today was actually the day I was going to Jamaica. Again, much of the day is a blur, and I only remember flashes. Being in the lobby at 7:30, bleary eyed and wading through everyone’s luggage to sign in. Walking through the airport with a new friend trying to find breakfast. Taking group pictures in the airport. Figuring out who was sitting next to each other for the flight. One distinct memory I have is sitting next to a big Jamaican woman on the plane who tried to convert me to Christianity, and I remember thinking “If the typical Jamaican is anything like this woman, this is gonna be a rough two years.” (Thankfully, she is one of only a few who have tried to “save” me.)

After about 90 minutes, Jamaica was suddenly underneath us and we got our first glimpse at the rolling hills and lush, green landscape. All of the fear and apprehension I felt was suddenly gone. I was giddy. I couldn’t stop smiling and laughing. I kept thinking “We’re here! We’re here!”. We were greeted at the airport by Peace Corps staff and current volunteers, took some pictures and loaded into buses for our drive to the Peace Corps office. There were current volunteers with us, and we all kept harassing them with questions. I was amazed at how much they knew about Jamaica, and how easily they were able to rattle off facts from food to geography to politics to language to sports and more. It was overwhelming. I tried to take in as much of the information and scenery as I could, but suddenly we were at the Peace Corps office. There were snacks and tables after tables of information and forms to fill out - information on medical issues, safety, phones, money and other various things were thrown at us faster than we were able to absorb it. After a few talks, lots of welcomes and a tour of the Peace Corps office (which I still find a bit confusing), we were taken to our hotel to rest for the night. We had a few Red Stripes (what else?), had some dinner, chatted for a bit with each other and with current volunteers before retiring. It had been an exhausting few days, and I went to sleep with my head spinning. I was a little nervous, a little overwhelmed, but mostly I remember being excited and content. I was finally starting this adventure that I had waited so long for.

March 17^th/18^th 2010:

I had been a bit tired lately, so I decided to sleep in a little bit on the 17^th, and so didn’t get out of bed until about 7. It was the second day of a two day workshop I was attending in Mandeville – a town high in the hills in central Jamaica. Mandeville is very cool this time of year, and I’m sure the unusual feeling of sleeping comfortably under two blankets (albeit light ones) factored into my decision to stay in bed. Eventually I got up, took a freezing shower, and headed off to breakfast. The workshop was focused on the first draft of a Protected Areas Management Plan that the Jamaican government had recently put together. They had put this whole plan together and failed to consult the NGOs at all. It is the NGOs that work and often manage these protected areas – whether officially or not, and so the input from these groups should be seen as vital in putting this plan together. It was a small workshop – only about 10 of us from different NGOs who had come together to put together a response to the draft. We had spent the first day talking about our reactions to the draft, and this day was spent talking about next steps. There was talk of how to approach the national committees, and of putting together an organized network of NGOs. It was a small group, but it was an interesting mix of Americans, Jamaicans and even a Swiss man to spice it up. Some had been involved in the environmental movement here for decades and some (like me) were very new to the scene. It was fascinating to be a part of, and by the end of the day I was seriously thinking about extending my service for the first time since I had landed in country a year before.

The workshop ended by about 3, and I drove back with a co-worker and a friend of his. It was about a 3 hour ride, and we spent it chatting, resting, listening to music and enjoying the scenery. I remember my first car ride alone with Jamaicans as awkward and a bit forced. In contrast, this ride home was easy, light and mostly enjoyable. I finished the day off with a patty (Jamaican empanada or calzone), and went home to catch up on some emails and some work (yes, work!).

I was back to my normal wake up time of 6:30, went for a run, ate some breakfast and rode my bike into work by about 8:30. I had planned a workshop with a partner agency that day for some farmers, so I spent about an hour getting myself ready, printing out agendas and making a few calls. We had never set an exact time for the workshop (just “in the morning”), and at the beginning of my service that would have been a huge stressor. But by now, I’ve learned to just roll with it. We made it to our venue – a local church – by about 9:45 and were ready to go by 10:15 or so. Our partner for the workshop had promised 40 farmers, however none were there when we were ready to go. Again, this is something that would have had me very stressed out a few months ago, but instead I just waited patiently, went over my presentation and made small talk with some of the people around me. However, I did set a cut off time for my patience – 11:30. But as luck would have it, at about 11:15 farmers started to trickle in. by 11:30, we had about 25 farmers and were ready to go.

Like almost all events I’ve been a part of in Jamaica, this one got started much later than I thought it would. But once it got going it was a really good event. The farmers were receptive and engaged, and the four presentations (including one from yours truly on biodiversity) went over really well. We were through by about 3:00, and I headed back into the office for an hour or two of wok, emails and gchatting (I had had a productive morning, after all!). I headed home at about 5:30 and spent the rest of the evening reading, cooking and watching an episode or two of Entourage – my latest obsession. I went to bed at my typical time of about 9:45, and I slept well that night – it had been a good day, and a good anniversary.

Part II - Our Solution

The good news is that we have a plan. The bad news is that it’s a really expensive plan, it’s a lot of work and it will take a long time. But there’s a plan, so let’s focus on that. What this plan involves was the focus of a two hour meeting last week, and there’s a lot to it. But, essentially, it can be boiled down into two main components. The first is an emergency fire plan that would allow us to quickly locate and put out fires. This is a short term solution that is designed to tide us over until we reach the second part of plan. This is a program to rehydrate the morass and get it back to something resembling its original state.

The fire emergency plan has several components to it. We will need to build fire towers at strategic points throughout the morass so that we can pinpoint the exact location of fires when the break out. We also need to buy vehicles that can go into the swamp and get around to get to the fires (swamp buggies were an idea that was thrown out there, and I’m really hoping I’ll still be around in time to take a ride in a swamp buggy). A lot of these fires are in places that are simply inaccessible, and so the fire department has to wait until it gets to an area that it can access, which is likely close to houses or businesses, opening up a whole nother lever of danger. We are also going to work with the fire department and the local communities to educate them about fires in the morass and what can be done about it. A lot of people just don’t understand the dangers of the morass burning, and don’t know how or why these fires start. Hopefully through quick action to stop fires, and public education we can lower the impact and amount of fires while we work on part two…

Part 2 is a lot more complicated. It involves rehydrating the morass and restoring it so that it can become something of a healthy and functional wetland. The most effective way to do that would be to just dam up the canals that were built 50 years ago, but since that’s not going happen, we have another plan. One thing that complicates rehydrating the morass (well, there are several things, but anyway…) is that there are actually 1,000’s of small canals in the morass that were put in for farming or other drainage. So while the water runs out of 2 major canals, it will also run out of these smaller ones. And we know these are out there, but we’re not sure exactly where because there are no good GIS maps of the morass. This also means that we don’t know exactly where the hot spots are (no pun intended…) for the fire. So we’re not sure exactly where the most strategic place is to pump the water into. We’re going to generate those maps, but that takes time. We’re hoping to have them done by next summer so that we can start implementing this rehydration plan as soon as possible.

The other main complication is what water to use. There is a large sewage treatment plant nearby the morass that could be used, but in the current state, the water is not treated beyond the initial level. Raw sewage needs at least 2, if not 3, treatment phases before it can be safely put back into any system. No one can seem to answer the questions of why the plant is so dysfunctional, or if/when it will be functional. Using treated effluent would be ideal for this project, but we are not sure if that is going to be possible, and I’m not sure what the backup plan is for this.

Overall, rehydrating the morass will mean a lot of monitoring, and long term management of the system as a whole. It’s a lot to take on, but it’s vital to the health of Negril and Jamaica. The good news is that there is a lot of support for this project. We are working with an American wetland scientist to design the whole plan, and we had over 40 people from 30 agencies present at the meeting we put together to present the plan. Everyone was supportive, and that’s a huge plus. Hopefully that support will be more than just lip service support, but only time will tell on that one. We are looking to have a lot of this project grant funded, and are also looking into ideas for the project to sustain itself over time, such as an environmental tax paid by hotel guests or a trust set up for the morass. We are finalizing the grant for the first phase though, and hopefully I’ll be able to give you more positive updates on this soon.

For me, this whole situation has made clear something that I’ve thought for a while. Nature is pretty amazing, and has developed ways of making systems work which are far more complex and interconnected than we can imagine. If these systems are left alone, they can work for decades and centuries without a problem. But when people come in and think they can outsmart nature, they pretty much always end up just fucking things up. And once you do that, there’s really no turning back. Inevitably the impact is going to be larger than you had imagined, especially in the long term. And trying to put these systems back into something resembling their natural state is time consuming, nearly impossible, and extremely expensive. I’m not totally against human expansion, but we need to recognize that there are some spaces that we just need to stay out of, and we need to start being smarter about our growth as societies. We need to figure out ways to work with nature and stop trying to defeat it all the time. Because when we play that game, nature always seems to win in the long run.

There's a quote similar to this from one of my favorite books, We Wish to Inform You. The book is about the Rwandan genocide (depressing topic, but wonderful and wonderfully written book), and in the intro, the author talks about a conversation that he had with a pygmy in a bar in Rwanda while doing research. It doesn't fit as well as I had hoped into this post but it took me about 30 minutes to find, so I wanted to share it anyway:

“Humanity’s struggle to conquer nature," the pygmy said fondly. “It is the only hope. It is the only way for peace and reconciliation—all humanity one against nature.”

He sat back in his chair, with his arms crossed over his chest, and went silent.

After a while, I said, “But humanity is a part of nature, too.”

“Exactly,” the pygmy said. “This is exactly the problem.”

Part I - The Problem

So, here’s the thing about a wetland…for the most part, it needs be wet. There are some wetlands that dry out seasonally, but then they fill up with water again. But here’s the other thing about wetlands…they are usually in between dry lands and coasts. Meaning they are in prime development areas. But you can’t build in a wetland, and even if you could, no one would want to live in a wetland (or morass as it’s called here). So what do people do? They drain wetlands and swamps to build cities. This happens all over the world all the time, and it’s pretty much always a bad idea.

As a bit of background, a large portion of Negril used to be a wetland. The Negril Great Morass still occupies a large chunk of land to the east of Negril, but it’s drying out rapidly. The soil in the Negril Great Morass is peat – decayed plant matter that has formed a spongy, very absorbent and very nutrient rich soil. The soil can literally hold 3 times its weight in water. However, when the peat is dry, it becomes a very flammable. So much so that the Royal Palm Reserve, a part of the Negril Great Morass that my agency manages, was originally developed by the Petroleum Corporation of Jamaica for them to complete a feasibility study on harvesting the peat for fuel. When the morass is healthy and functioning well, the soil is so wet that when you walk on it, you feel like you’re walking on a sponge. But because of the way Negril was developed, as well as some other environmental degradation that has happened in and around the morass, it is not healthy and functioning well – it is dry and getting drier.

There are a few reasons for this, but mainly, the drying is a result of the development of Negril in the late 1950’s, early 60’s. The developers decided they wanted to drain the morass to allow for more land to be built on. Their plan to do this was simple – dig out two canals on the north and south side of Negril, and since water naturally takes the easiest route available, it would drain out the canals into the ocean instead of getting filtered slowly and naturally through the peat soil of the morass. Their plan worked wonderfully – so much so that over 50 years later, the canal on the south side of the town is a full, permanent river about 15 feet wide that is constantly flowing. This is causing the morass to continue to dry out at a rapid rate – something that is dangerous for many reasons, one of which the residents and visitors of Negril saw today.

Small fires are a relatively common site in Negril, and around Jamaica in general. People tend to burn their trash (a horrible practice that deserves a post of its own, but I’ll stay on topic for now), and burn their fields to clear them (a lot of people farm in the fertile soil of the morass). Sometimes fires happen as a result of accidents or carelessness, and once in a while that happen as a result of natural causes like lightening. But more important than how they happen is simply that they happen. And sometimes, like this week, they happen in a big way.

I was driving to a nearby town with some friends Sunday night, and we saw a big fire burning in the fields in the morass, and decided it was probably either a sugar cane or ganja field that someone decided to clear by burning, or an accidental fire. Either way, it was definitely man-made. We could see the orange glow of the flame all the way in Negril, at least 10 – 15 miles away. The fire was still burning today, and it burnt all day. It might still be burning for all I know.

What I do know is that it burned a huge section of the morass. All day there were huge clouds of smoke floating over Negril, and there was ash falling from the sky at several different times. It was a little apocalyptic and disturbing to say the least. For a large part of the day, the fire was in a section of the morass that is inaccessible to vehicles, and so the fire department couldn’t get close enough to try and put it out. Eventually it came a little closer to the road, so they were able to get to a part of it.

The really scary part is that even if they do get the visible parts of the fire out, it’s unlikely that they’ll get all of it out. The dried out peat tends to burn and smolder, and unless it is inundated with water, it will burn for months. That’s not an exaggeration – we’ve tracked fires in the morass that have literally burned for over 6 months. So it looks like today was only the start of some major damage to the already threatened morass.

I hate telling stories like this without some sort of hopeful solution at the end. And I’ll have that for all of you, just not today. NEPT, my agency, has been working on a strategic plan to re-wet the morass and restore it to a level of health that will prevent these fires from happening in the future. We’re working with consultants and experts to develop these plans, and we are actually having a meeting about their plans later this week. So please stay tuned for Part II in a few days – I’m looking forward to hearing about what we can do to help the morass, and I’ll be sure to update when I do.

Smoke from the fire billowing across the road - this

was taken from my office parking lot in the center of town.

Birthday and Donkey Races

When I was a kid, I was always jealous of those kids who were able to have pool parties or parties at Splash Down (the local water park) for their birthdays. Being that my birthday is in February, I never really had that option. But! Then I moved to Jamaica, where it’s summer all year round. So this year, I was finally able to have my summer birthday. It was sunny, warm and wonderful all day just as I had always hoped. And my dogs were even quite in the morning, meaning I wasn’t woken up at 5:45 by them barking their heads off! (Something that happens more often than not.) I was flooded with emails, calls, texts, Facebook posts and even a few cards throughout the day, and each one of them definitely made my day a little bit better. I even had a HUGE piece of cake at work, and managed to make it most of the day without getting “flowered” (it’s a Jamaican tradition that on your birthday, everyone throws flower on you…sometimes after spraying you with beer).

After work I went with a few friends to go cliff jumping. Negril is a seaside town, and there are 2 sides to it – the beach side, where I live, has a 7 mile long, white, sandy beach that is great for relaxing and leisurely beach days. The other half is several miles of jagged rocks and cliffs jutting out into the water. There are many, many points along here to jump off the cliffs into water, most being at least 20 feet up, if not more. Like I said, I’ve never had a summer birthday before, and I was excited to take advantage of finally having one. A few good friends agreed to join me on this excursion, and we decided to go to the “lighthouse” at Negril Escape, a very Peace Corps-friendly hotel whose manager we work with on a pretty regular basis. We all know how much I like clichés, and we all know what they say, a picture is worth 1,000 words. So let me shut up and just show you a picture of my friend, Eric jumping off the lighthouse:

After a few jumps, we headed out to a local spot for some great jerk chicken, another piece of cake (it was by birthday, after all) and another Red Stripe or two before heading home for the night. And yes, my friends did manage to flower me right at the end of the night with the help of a local store owner.

A few days later, some volunteers and I volunteered at a local community event – Donkey Races! It’s a fundraiser put on by the Negril Rotary, and it was a fantastic day. It’s just what it sounds like – donkeys racing around a circular track. And yes, there were jockeys. There were several heats and several rounds, and I got to see many donkey races throughout the day. Each one was more entertaining than the last was. Some of the donkeys just sprinted around the track, some bucked their riders off, some refused to move, some turned around and went backwards and some just walked and took their sweet time. We all helped out throughout the day and definitely took the time to enjoy watching the races. Again, this is something that needs to be seen to be believed, so please watch this video to get an idea of the day:

I’ve also posted some recent pictures online, and here’s the link if you’d like to check them out:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2309230&id=5301199&l=14096fe197

Mi have fi respec all di farmer man who grow it proper

For those loyal readers of my blog, you may remember an entry I had back in September (October?) where I talked about farmers and farming and what not. We've been back to visit those same farmers a few times since then, and on our last visit, I started seriously thinking about how amazing the whole cycle of farming is. I should also add that I had just finished reading Michael Pollan's In Defense of Food (which I highly recommend), and I'm sure that has something to do with it too.

I don't think many of us, especially Americans, really take the time to think about where our food comes from. We see an enormous bounty in every supermarket we go into, and a lot of people don't take a second to realize all of the work that has gone into getting each of those pieces of produce onto those shelves. I thought I had an idea about what farmers went through, but after visiting farms here and talking with farmers, I realized that I had only a tiny, tiny grasp of all the work. So I wanted to tell you all a little bit about what the farmers here go through. I'm sure for the big industrial farms in the states, it's different, but I have a feeling that for small, family farms in America, it's pretty similar.

What I'm learning by visiting all these farmers is the vast amount of work that goes into farming even a half acre of land. You have to clear the land, prepare it for planting, create some kind of water system, acquire the seeds, fertilizers and pesticides. Once all of that is in order, you have to work 7 days a week, every day of the year to keep up with the weeds and pests, and with the needs of the plants. These farmers are out there from early in the morning, and work right through the day. And in the Jamaican sun and heat, that takes an enormous amount of energy. Just walking around on these farms for a few hours exhausts me, and I am doing no hard work at all. And these farmers have to be there every day, putting in several hours a day. If they are not, the weeds take it over, the pests will eat it, or as in one unfortunate case, someone will come along and steal their crop. And the farmers here usually don't have any tools – just a well used machete in most cases.

Most of the people we meet have been farming their whole life, and the store of knowledge that each one has is incredible. That's the other thing about farming that amazes me – you can't necessarily just use the same method that works for one crop on your next crop. Each crop you plant has to be planted at a certain time, a certain way and has unique needs. And each pest that might come to feast on your crops needs to be dealt with in a certain way – whether organically or with chemicals. Hearing them talk about all of this is dizzying. Farmers here often plant peppers, tomatoes, root crops and calallo (similar to spinach) on a small plot of land, but each of those crops need to be planted and worked in a different way. They need different amounts of water, different nutrients, and different levels of attention. Like I said, dizzying.

Then there's reaping it. How farmers know exactly when their produce is ready is still beyond me, but somehow they do. Then they have to get it from their farm to market. Many of the farmers we have talked to have said this is the worst part about their job – they can't usually find a fair price for their crops. Many of the farmers here sell their crops to a higgler, or middle man (“miggle man” in Patwa), and they are kind of forced to take whatever price he gives them, knowing he's gonna mark it up like crazy. They can't sell directly to the hotel, and can't always get to the market themselves, so they are kind of stuck. Even getting the produce out to the road is hard sometimes – farmers have to farm where there is land, and sometimes that's in the middle of the bush. So it's a lot of hard labor just to get things to a road where a truck can pick it up. Again, it's dizzying just to think about.

Despite how intelligent these farmers usually are, they are often uneducated in a traditional sense. Many are near illiterate, and I don't think we've met one who understand the economics of running a business, which is what farming is for them. No one has really taught them bookkeeping or accounting, and they usually have no idea if they are turning a profit – they only know if they have money in their pockets today or not, and they usually don't have much of that. It saddens me how much society over looks the farmers. Without farmers, we would be in some deep trouble. And there aren't a whole lot of young farmers out there either. Understandably, the youth don't usually want to be out in the fields doing hard work all day. When you really look at it, farming is a noble profession, but it's not usually seen as such.

I've thought about it, and I don't think I'd last 2 weeks as a farmer. But I'm glad there are people out there doing it, and I'm glad I've gotten to know just a few of them.