January 27

My father came to Kingston this afternoon and was spending his first night in Port Royal where Sarah Hsia was on her last night of a one-month trip on which she had been doing research for the Digital Divide chapter of his Internet Law casebook. I read in a guidebook that there was a ferry out there from downtown Kingston that left at 5pm, so at around 4:30 we hopped in a cab and headed down to the foot of Princess St. on Ocean Blvd. Our taxi driver dropped us at what he told us (correctly) was the foot of Princess St. But there were no signs, not for Princess, not for Ocean, and not for the Port Royal ferry. Downtown Kingston is not a great place for two Americans with no phone and no way to get home. We were a little nervous. A passer-by told us we were in the right place for the ferry, so we sat down to wait. At 5 we were still the only two waiting for the ferry (which was nowhere in sight) but we asked two young men on the pier and they told us it would come at 5:30. A man carrying jagged piece of mirror approached us and said hello. There was nothing to do but start chatting. He was friendly and we started talking about music. I had a chance to look him over and noticed a long pinky finger, which explained the piece of mirror, at least. As we chatted, I relaxed. He pointed out that the trees around us were almond trees and said that kids these days were different. It used to be that when almonds were falling from the trees, the kids would be sitting and breaking them open to eat. In contrast, 6 or 7 young boys and one teenager were hanging out on the pier, ignoring the almonds. The teenager got in the water and the little boys jumped in one at a time. The teenager would dive under to catch them and help them to the surface and then help them to swim back to where they could climb out. Swimming lessons. An old man and woman rolled up two carts of drinks and junk food to sell and sat on the curb. We bought two Red Stripes, well cold. We only had a $500 bill ($10US). The Red Stripes cost $100 each ($2 or so) and the old man did not have enough money to make change. We paid extra, feeling a combination of embarrassment and happiness to pay more for the beers. We sat on the pier and finally saw the ferry coming in. The sunset over Kingston harbor was gorgeous. We were practically alone on the ferry ride, which was beautiful in spite of the sprinkling rain. Port Royal is the old buccaneer town at the entrance to Kingston harbor. Kingston harbor is a large, hidden, natural harbor, perfect for pirates. When we arrived, it was already quite dark. We asked one of the two other ferry passengers where the Hotel Morgan was and he walked with us up to a road where he directed us to walk until we saw it. The road was small and unlit and I began to get a little nervous again as we walked along not knowing where we were going. We found the hotel and my father and joined Sarah and her friend John at an outdoor bar/restaurant down the beach a few hundred feet. In her one month stay, Sarah had met the whole town of Port Royal and really seemed at home. We watched the superbowl on the TV (cheering for the bucs along with everyone else in Port Royal) and ate awesome roast fish. The taxi drivers were all asleep by the time we were ready to go home, but John got his friend Bookie to take us back to town. Bookie is a sailor and used to be a diver for conch. He told us about "Raytown", a place to hear great soundsystems on our drive back. Having expressed interest, he said he'd drive us by there. Before we knew it, we were parking in the middle of one of Kingston's ghettos, Raytown. He told us we didn't have to lock the car because it was his and no one would touch it. He introduced us all around and his friend bought us two beers. The soundsystem was going loud and strong, but because it had been raining slightly and it was early, no one was dancing. I wanted to stay because it was likely to be one of our only chances to be in a part of Kinston like that. I wanted to go because I was definitely feeling nervous again. Why had he brought us there? The people were gracious, if not exactly friendly to us. We were certainly an anomaly. Everyone appeared to be hanging out in the street, drinking, smoking cigarettes and talking. Very sick, emaciated dogs lolled on the sidewalk looking extremely pathetic. After a while, we asked Bookie to take us home. As we drove home, he explained that the neighborhoods were each headed by "Dons" and that nothing happened in them without the approval of the Don. Because of that, and because we were with him, nothing would ever happen to us there. In fact, he said, were were probably safer in the ghetto than anywhere in Kingston because no one would touch a white person. Even though the murder rate in the ghetto is extremely high and most of the people killed are young men like him, he explained that he doesn't worry about it because he is protected. I asked him who was protecting the person who was protecting him. Without wanting to draw too much of a lesson from the evening, it was plain that I had been scared repeatedly in situations that I had heard could be dangerous and had found each time that each person we encountered was quite straight with us. I don't think I'll be going to the ghetto to test out Bookie's assertion that I'll be perfectly safe, but I don't think I'll be so suspicious from now on either.

January 29

Today was our first Kingston disaster. It was a little rainy in the morning, but we'd been so busy in the past few days that we were happy for a morning at home. Plus we'd been told on our first day here that no one goes out in Kingston in the rain. After lunch it had cleared and I wanted to take a walk. We set out but within minutes the rain brought us home . I read more. I crocheted more. I worked more on my computer. I slept more. I was bored. We were supposed to be at the Hotel Pegasus in New Kingston at 5 for the beginning of the ICT conference. At 4:45 we called a cab. The line was busy. We tried another company, also busy. Can't get a cab in Kingston in the rain. 20 minutes later we were in cab, thinking we'd only be a few minutes late. 40 minutes later we were still in the cab. An hour later... Our driver did what any Kingston cabbie would do: drove on the sidewalk, cut into long lines of cars, went up the wrong side of the street, but all to no avail. Kingston was bumper-to-bumper. By a little after 6, we were at the hotel. Only problem was we were supposed to be at the university at 7 to see a show at the performing arts center run by Wayne's friend Carolyn Allen. We debated. Could we even get there? I asked a cab driver. He laughed at me. He said it would take an hour and a half to get there in the rain. He wouldn't take us even if we wanted to go. A few hours later, after the rain had stopped, and we had had an unpleasant walk through New Kingston*, we were back at home, avoiding the puddles on the floor where the roof had dripped.

*New Kingston is where all the hotels are in Kingston, and thus where the American and other tourists stay. As a result, as a white person walking around, you are the subject of constant harassment to buy something or other. I hadn't expected it because we are left to ourselves completely in our own, less touristy neighborhood. Though I've never been out of Kingston, I'm convinced this experience must be similar along the resort-heavy north coast of the island.

January 30

We had a wonderful day for our project today. We presented at the ICT Conference. The conference had not seemed promising from what we'd gathered from the program and the first evening's events. There were so many simultaneous talks happening that it seemed unlikely there would be anyone to attend any of them. I had been asked to moderate a panel (on "Protecting IP on the Internet) of only one speaker: read, introduce a lawyer who would flip through 65 (literally) powerpoint slides about the way that technology makes copying easy and there are not enough laws available to help protect IP. We had a session on our project after lunch. With Wayne playing some of his music and music he had made with kids in the Cambridge public schools, we managed to draw quite a crowd, including many of the people with whom we were hoping to work. Wayne lit them up with his digital music demo (I'll leave it to his blog to explain in more detail, and hopefully we'll post the video soon). They especially loved when he made a dancehall beat on Fruityloops in a matter of seconds. The skyBuilders/web stuff I described seemed to go over well too--quite a few organizations wanted to have access to it and/or learn more. Cornerstone Ministries, a decidedly Christian group that has *the* 10 year contract for rehabilitation and education programs in Jamaica's prison was taken with our demo. Douglas Kessner (a Michgan-born, 18 year Jamaican residents and self-proclaimed missionary, who founded Cornerstone Ministries) and Alton Grizzle (a Jamaican math teacher and computer science M.A. candidate who is in charge of special programs, including all computer-based programs in the prisons) wanted us in to do trainings, starting at South Camp. We have been trying to get into the prisons for quite a few years now, and it finally seems to be happening. It has the great advantage of being entirely administered by another group that has negotiated the relationship, set up the labs, and developed the overall structure for the program. It has the downside of being a decidedly religious program. (80% skills training/education, 20% Christian principles, described Mr. Kessner). From our perspective, the only way in is definitely a good way in. I also had a good feeling from Mr. Grizzle. (When asked by Mr. Kessner about what sort of entrance requirements Mr. Grizzle would be envisioning for the digital literacy program we'd be a part of, he said, "Nothing, just that they can feel a beat.") Such a huge step forward after such a long time of moving sideways. Next we visited ex-Prime Minister Seaga. Physically he seems very old, but mentally he's very sharp. He was definitely excited by our projects. He and Wayne seemed to connect in their perception of Jamaican music and the interplay between Jamaican and American music in way I've never seen anyone do with Wayne before. He has a daughter Rebecca who is near my age who we will meet either tomorrow or monday. I'm looking forward to it. Jamaican politics are such a mess that certain areas of the city ("garrisons") are solely associated with one party or the other. The PNP has the majority of areas, and hence is currently in power. Our work with them is likely to only be in PNP areas. Seaga is with the JLP, and takes care of his own. We'll be going on Monday to a launch of some projects at the Tivoli high school. (Tivoli Gardens is, needless to say, a JLP area).

January 31

Wayne ran out of underwear, so we had to do laundry today. I was looking forward to it, it seemed sort of romantic to hang our clothes out to dry on a clothesline. We had clothespins to hand our clothes out on the communal line and extra clothesline to hang our underwear in the apartment. We went to find Alfie, the security guard/groundskeeper/token seller. His music was on full blast but he was nowhere to be seen. Soon come. I passed the time trying to call Cable&Wireless about getting our phone set up. Cable&Wireless has a monopoly on land lines (that will be broken up in March, their cell phone monopoly ended only recently), so we had no choice. We went last week to apply for a phone line. They told us to call Thursday to check on it. Today when I called, they told me a line had been assigned for us, to call back early next week to see if it had made it to the installation people. Soon come. Wayne went to take some pictures and check if Alfie was back. Still no sign. We had lunch. Our water turned off unexpectedly after lunch. Last time this happened it came back on after a bit. Soon come. Wayne went to try the laundry one more time. This time Alfie was there, but he only had one token left. The guy might come to empty the machine late this afternoon, he said. Soon come. One load was all we needed to clean the underwear.