Un bébé, à la peau douce comme une aile de papillon, t' offrant toute sa confiance, s' endort contre toi. Des gens laborieux qui ne cherchent qu' une excuse pour aider à construire une nouvelle maison. Un enfant trop maigre qui s'agrippe à ton cou, à ton corps tout entier, pleurant, lorsqu'en larmes, tu dois le quitter à la fin de la journée. Dans la rue, aux sites de construction, dans l' autobus, tu es entouré de sourires contagieux. Assis sur une galerie à l' abris du soleil cuisant, quatre petits corps s' empilent dans tes bras pendant que deux autres te serrent la main, tous à la recherche d' amour. Un choc émotionnel, des larmes, des moments de grande joie et partout de la musique, des chansons.

Ceci n' est qu' un bref éventail de mes expériences en tant que membre du groupe Jeun' Espoir Jamaïque 2001. J' ai pu voir les fruits tangibles de nos labeurs d' un an au Canada se matérialiser pendant une semaine au mois de mars. Nos multiples levées de fonds, nos réunions hebdomadaires, nos annonces et publicités au sein de l' école et de la communauté sont devenus une maison, une structure de jeux, des rénovations, des dons et des sourires dans les communautés les plus pauvres de la Jamaïque.

Ce projet est une chance extraordinaire pour des jeunes de notre communauté de vivre une expérience sans pareil. Il permet de faire une différence tangible dans les communautés jamaïcaines et les participants reviennent avec une vision nouvelle qui perpétue le bien de la communauté humaine. Il est donc important d' encourager ce projet car il peut faire une énorme différence, non seulement en Jamaïque mais au Canada.

De ce projet extraordinaire, je retiens plusieurs choses. J' ai appris que le bonheur ne coûte qu' un sourire, que chaque moment est précieux et vaut la peine d' être vécu à cent pour cent et que je suis incroyablement chanceuse. J' ai réalisé que si des gens avec aucune possession pouvait exprimer une telle joie de vivre, ce serait une honte si moi, si fortunée, ne pouvait faire de même. J' ai une plus grande ouverture d' esprit, un nouveau sens de communauté et une différente perspective grâce à Jeun' Espoir Jamaïque.

Sincèrement,

Jessica Beaton

Jeun' Espoir Jamaïque 2001

Marigold home for abandoned and abused children

Dear journal,

Today, Monday, was my turn to go to Marigold. I was part of the last group to visit and had already heard a lot about it from the others. I must admit that I was scared of what I was about to witness and experience. I gathered my nerves and my courage and decided that I was going to live it and that I would make it as positive as I possibly could. Fortunately, we went during a weekday so the older children were in school, giving us the chance to interact with the handicapped children and the babies and toddlers. As we arrived at the building itself, I spotted some of the older kids getting ready for school. I also saw a little boy, around 7 years old, dressed up nicely, and sitting next to one of the ladies that worked there, on the patio. Judging by the way he was dressed, I figured that it was normal attire for all of the children there but I quickly learned that he was only wearing those clothes to appear in court that day. When they opened the gate and let us in, I looked at him and smiled, gently tickling his tummy. He grinned, grabbed my hand and instantly captured my heart. He followed us inside and led me around while we visited with the handicapped children. It was a heartbreaking scene. Tiny cribs like little prisons for all these children. Some of them had more than one child in them. Tiny hands grabbed at ours, tugged at our shirts, pulling us towards them. I wanted to hold them all but it was physically impossible. One of the babies climbed down from the crib and tugged at my shirt. I picked him up so he would stop crying, Clifton, the little boy, was still following me. He led me to the rocking chair in the back so I rocked the baby I had in my arms until he fell asleep. Clifton was poking me and pointing to the crib next to me; it was his little brother. He helped him put his socks back on and I told him he was a very helpful boy and he smiled proudly. The day went on. He also helped me clean the walls. It was rather difficult to wash the walls because the paint would come off with the dirt but we managed anyway. A few moments later, a little boy came rushing towards me, screaming and crying. He was no longer dressed in the nice clothes he had on, he was no longer wearing nice sneakers but I recognized him as Clifton. He wasn’t going to court anymore, he wasn’t going to see his mother. He begged me to pick him up so I did, even if he was more than half my weight. I calmed him down until he fell asleep on me. I have to admit that it was at that time that I realized the injustice of it all. So many emotions hit me at once. I saw all these babies with different stories, different backgrounds. Some of them needed to be in that place because it was so much better than their homes but some, like Clifton, missed their mothers more than anything. Clifton gave us a hard time during the rest of the day. He was no longer the calm, helpful boy. He was agitated, angry, sad; and he wanted to leave… he even tried to open the gate at one point. I don’t know much, but I do know that isn’t a way to live. It’s not a home. If I could have brought him with me, I would have, in a heartbeat and I would have taken all those kids with me too. Every child deserves to be held and loved. Every single one of them. It made me realize just how lucky most of the kids back home are and most of all, how lucky I was to have had my family to raise me in a decent, comfortable house. I don’t know much, but I know that that day my heart cried with those kids… and I needed their hugs as much as they needed mine.

Melanie

Tuesday, March 12th, Day 6

Today, I went to Marigold for the second time. Unlike the first time, we only went for half a day. Being a weekday, most of the older kids were at school. Because of that, I was able to spend more time with the younger kids as well as the babies. When I got into the babies room, I first laid my eyes on a two-year old girl who just had meningitis, she had tubes in her nose and was breathing heavily. That's when it hit me: when I am sick, even if I'm 18, my mom always takes care of me, she brings me remedies, she sits on my bed and stays by my side.... but this two year old has absolutely no one to take care of her. Sure the ladies that work there feed her and change her diaper but what about maternal love? Where does she get it from? She just doesn't get any. I walked around the room and from the other cribs the other babies were smiling and letting out little cries of joy when they saw me. Seeing that the one-month old baby named Bowen needed to be changed I went to get Pam since none of the ladies were nowhere to be found. After she was done, she asked me if I would like to hold him, so I did. I never really was the kind of person that felt close to kids, I've always said that I didn't want kids later on but holding baby Bowen, having 5 kids jumping on me to get my attention and feeding the babies during lunch time made me realize that I have the opportunity to raise kids and to give them the love that they need and the kids at Marigold gave me such an unique kind of love that I had never felt before. Having a kid in your arms for 15 minutes and them crying because it's time to let go is heart breaking. A little girl named Tibby played with me for at least an hour, her teeth were coming out so she was chewing on the stone of my necklace to make the pain more bearable. She was the cutes thing! You go there, you give them all the energy you have and all the love possible and when you walk away, you go to take the bus, you see them looking at you and it makes you wonder if they'll get adopted or if their parents will come back to get them and if they do come back how they will live. Will they have 3 meals a day? Will they have a shelter and the love they need and deserve? A whole month already has gone by since I went there and I still ask myself what can any kid do to deserve this kind of life and I still can't seem to find an answer.

Chris

Dear Journal,

Today was a very difficult day emotionally. It is Saturday, I went to Marigold, the center for abused and abandoned children. I was expecting the worst, but nothing could have prepared me for what I was about to experience. Since it was Saturday, the children did not have school, so there were about 50 kids running around everywhere. I was shocked to see the conditions these kids live in. It was dark and with no stimulation for these young children, left to entertain and take care of themselves. I saw an infant in his crib, sleeping in his own vomit. Another was bulimic and his bed was also soiled. But I didn’t let myself become overwhelmed—I didn’t have a chance to—I immediately had 5 or 6 kids on me: in my arms, on my back, around my legs—all desperately wanting to be held. Every child had his or her arms up in the air, begging to be picked up. It breaks my heart to see that these young children want so desperately to be loved, how starved for affection they are. It takes almost nothing to make them happy, they just want to be held. I had kids fighting for my attention—literally hitting each other just to be the only one in my arms. One little boy was so possessive that he would hurt the others that would climb into my arms. Each wanted to be on my lap with my arms around them, but to be the only one and not have to share. During most of the day I played with them, but I took breaks from playing with the kids—I was just emotionally drained and didn’t want to break down into tears. So I went outside where I hung out laundry and then folded it. It was a never-ending task and helped the ladies who had so much to do. But even freshly washed, the clothes were stained and smelled of urine. I still remember the smell at Marigold. Folding laundry helped me escape from what was going on inside, helped me think of something besides the reality of the miserable life these kids have. It makes me so angry that they have nobody to take care of them, that they are just there all alone. Kids are supposed to have fun and play and laugh and be loved. This is their life, they stay there day after day, used to having people that come and go. I bluntly realized this when a tiny boy saw our bus and led me to the door. I can’t stop thinking what the future

holds for all these kids, where they would be in a few years, if the would end up in a place like Eira Schader.

And it breaks my heart.

Kim

Wow! What a day! It was my first work day and I went to the home for abandoned and abused children. I was a bit scared at first; loving children the way I do, I was reluctant to go see them living in unbearable conditions but I gathered my courage and went forward. We

In all, I had a good day, but a very draining one. It was difficult to see children living in those conditions, they don’t get attention or love. They fight each other to get attention or simply because they have nothing else to do. It was overwhelming to see what the women who work there go through everyday. When I first heard that those kids didn’t get attention or love from the people that took care of them, I was furious. But at the end of the day I understood, that those women are overloaded with work and they do everything they humanly can. I was totally drained after being there for only one day. To live in that situation every day is unfathomable to me.

March 8^th/2003

Day 3

Today, I went to Marigold, it was a very difficult day. Marigold is a home for abandoned children, it's a small old house with a veranda and a gate keeping the children inside. Sometimes, it kind of looks like a prison to see the kids holding on to the bars, longing to leave. The first child we saw when we entered was a little girl named Krissy, who apparently is 7 years old but has a tiny scarred body and looks about 3. Her face did look old, and she had food in her mouth that she couldn't chew, and her eyes were glazed over with a sad and lost look in them all the time. Then, some boys got out and were building guns with blocs and pointing them at us, and playing prison and police. It's sad to see what these kids know and what they've been exposed to at such a young age, there's so much violence in them. The whole day was very violent, from the moment we got in we had about 4 kids jumping on us all day, hitting, kicking, pulling, biting us and each other for attention. One little boy named Derek was 3 years old and had a swollen head, because he kept hitting his head on the ground on purpose to make himself cry, so that one of us would take him in our arms. Another little boy named Alex was calm, and very proud while showing me little cards he had with drawings of cartoons on them. When he dropped them, another boy took them off the ground and threw them outside the gate. I didn't understand why he would take away something that someone else was so proud of, not even for his own good, but just for the pleasure of taking it away. I also visited the handicapped children and was stunned to see a crib with two little boys in it, one boy sitting beside a pile of vomit and another that had been to the bathroom, and wasn't wearing any pants. When i addressed the woman that was working at the time to tell her about it, all she said was that the one that had thrown up threw up all his meals, he was bulimic, and she left it at that. Later on in the day, a little boy named Trevor touched me. When I had him in my arms, every time I would put him back down he would cry frantically for attention. Later on, he fell asleep in my arms after I sang to him, and looked so peaceful. When I would put my hand on his back, I could feel his coarse breathing, as though he was very sick, and it broke my heart. I couldn't help but wondering what the future held for this little boy? Who was going to wake him up every day and dress him and make him a lunch and bring him to school? Who would love him and tell him that he was the most important person in the world to them? The truth is that none of that will probably ever happen for him. This little boy, as all the other kids, has never done anything to deserve such a life. No one should have to live that way, and it's just too unfair for me to understand.

Nat Gagné

Ferry…

As soon as we arrived, I looked around and I couldn’t believe they lived there. But as they say in Jamaica: "look on the bright side": By the end of the day we will have made a difference in their lives. Slowly people were coming out and looking at what we were doing. Others recognized some people from last year’s group. As I was helping around with the play structure I met the incredible girl, Carianne. Right from the start we shared a good bond. We shared some laughs, some stories and eventually as the day went by we got to know each other pretty well. At that point I realize, we’re only one year apart but from two completely different worlds. Yet, we have some the same values and opinions. It’s special how something that seems so small is actually something you’ll remember for the rest of your life.

Then, another thing brought a smile to my face. One of the neighbours put some music on. Than slowly, 3 little boys around 5 yrs old were dancing in the middle of the street. Also, some older people were hanging around laughing and going to the beet of the music Than one little girl I was playing with just started jumping and moving her body like she wanted to join in also. It was really cool. They didn’t only listen to the music; they felt it. It was a sign of happiness and joy. You don’t need much to be happy. A friend and you’re set. Only if everyone could think this way…

Anne-Marie

It's Saturday, my turn at the Construction Site, in Trenchtown. I thought this place was going to be very different, you know, an open construction yard or something with easy access. Well they were right when they told us we didn't sign up for a pleasure cruise... the construction site was pretty isolated from our drop off point, but I don't think that any of us minded. With the burning sun above us, we started with the loading and unloading of the 2x4 and 4x4's, often with a lot of help from the local community! It wasn't odd to see Stefanie and I holding a pile of 5 two-by-fours with about 7 children between us helping even though only half of them could actually touch the boards. Others, young and old, brought wood to our small site. It's something I'll never forget, the simple fact that everyone got up and helped us. They knew who we were and what we were doing, but they had no obligation to help us, even though they did! Building the house itself was pretty fun, actually, it was the first time I've ever built a house with something other than Legos or the sofa cushions! You really feel some concrete satisfaction, a bit more for those who poured the concrete, when you see that in the end, there is something where there was not before. The ones who started the house on Friday saw only a small vacant lot before them, and on Tuesday, there was a house there. Construction isn't as easy as it looks, measurements are everything, we learnt that the hard way, having a few "wall problems", which basically were that the wall didn't fit into the space it was supposed to fit in! We're not contractors or construction workers, but with a little help again from the community, in this case a resident carpenter who happened to be watching us, we made a few adjustments, rolled up our sleeves, got a little elbow grease going with a dash of sweat and drove that wall right into place. In total, it took three days to build that house, which might not seem exceptional due to the size of it, but when you take into consideration the heat, the fact that we are NOT professionals and the interactions with the people, I think we did a pretty good job! Even with the wall...

Kevin

Day 1, Construction Site Whitfield

Today when I got off the bus at the site I was amazed at how many young children were around. As soon as I got on the site I felt a little scared because I was not in a familiar environment, but the people there were great and really helped to make me comfortable. During the first few hours I was mainly working and not spending much time with the children but when we took our first break I started talking with some kids and asking them questions about their future jobs. I was surprised at the answers I was getting. It seemed they all wanted to be Doctors, Teachers and Policeman. Then it occurred to me that all these jobs were occupations were you helped people, whether it be  patients, students or victims. Now, what made me mad was that most of these kids would never get the chance to get the education they needed to achieve their goals. So tonight I am making myself a promise, that is, to never complain about going to school ever again because I have the chance to get the education I need to be what I want to be. Why should I ever complain about having what so many people would love to have. A chance.

Luc

Dear Journal,

I guess I can say that I'm a pretty lucky person since I was fortunate enough to have gone on the construction site on the first and last day. I was able to see the house progress everyday. It started with a pile of wood stacked at the Trenchtown Community Center and it slowly built it's way into a beautiful home. The house was built with tender love, laughter, moments of frustration and enthusiasm not only by the members of this group but also the people from the community. The building of the house was quite an experience but I do believe we gained most of our experiences talking to the people surrounding us. Neighbours in the Trenchtown community have marked our hearts some way or the other and many friendships were created. Trenchtown showed us how Jamaicans live in a stress free environment and how they cherish family and community values. I do believe they where able to influence me into acknowledging these values and putting them into practice. By waving and smiling to us orange shirts, the residents created a secure environment and I must admit that I felt safer in Trentchtown, a town where most Jamaicans are afraid to step in, then in my hometown Orléans. Trenchtown is mostly known for it's violence and gangs but it is also the home of many talented artists. Woodworkers, painters, singers, you name it, all derive from Trenchtown. The Culture Yard, a place I was able to visit 3 times, is an area where these talents can be seen in action. From local artists, to beautiful murals of musical heroes, such as Bob Marley, culture surrounds you. Being in the government Yard of Trenchtown, as the song would say it, you can hear the breeze whisper the tune of "No Woman, No Cry." The Culture Yard, the people and Trenchtown itself, made me realize how important values are and that "Out of many,", there really is, "one people."

Stéphanie

Dear journal,

Today, I’m going to Eira Schader. When we arrived, I could not believe that people could actually live in conditions like this. Certainly not old people, tired after the living of their full life. I could not get over their breakfast, a tiny piece of dry crusty bread. The urine scent is choking because of the heat. But then again, it’s not the worst part. Their loneliness is. I was talking with Mr. Roy, a resident there, and he was just showing me all his pictures of people he knew and places he’d been and I just couldn’t get over the fact that he knew so many people and that he ended up alone, in this dirty place. I was just thinking about my parents and grandparents thinking how I would never wish these conditions for them or for anyone. Will this happen to us? Then I realize that it’s not only in Jamaica that old people are alone and die without sharing their knowledge, feelings and experiences. Here too. In my overall experience, that’s the funny part : I had to go to all the way to Jamaica to realize the needs here in Canada.

Vivianne

Dear Journal,

My first day of work was spent at the Eira Schader home for the aged in Trenchtown. We had been told that another group had refused to work there because of the smell and so, we all weren't quite sure what to expect... We all knew that it wouldn't be your typical seniors' residence and that turned out to be quite true.

The smell really was atrocious, reeking of urine and feces. The mattresses were old, dirty and worn. The roof leaked. The rooms were small, dimly lit if lit at all, and so dirty. Never had I seen anything so filthy in my entire life. Even now, I can still smell it. But work had to be done and we got right to it. In the process of cleaning and painting, we met some pretty special people...people that would, until the rest of our lives, live on in our memory.

People like Miss Miller and Miss Dolly: the caregivers. Miss Mock, Miss

Maude, Miss Burdy, Mister Rudy, Mister Darby, Miss Joyce: all of them made us smile, made us think, made us realize how life really isn't fair. How was it that these seniors could find themselves spending the rest of the life in such a disheartening place?

So where is the good in all of this you may ask? It's alive in every one of our hearts, our hearts that wanted so desperately to help, to console, to love, to live. While me may not have done nearly as much as we would have liked, I like to think it made a difference, however tiny it may seem. It has to start somewhere, doesn't it? My trip isn't over. My journey's only just beginning.

Marc-André

Today I returned to Eira Scheider. The first time we visited the golden age home, it wasn’t easy. Returning there a second time however, was much more emotionally trying. Miss Pearl, Miss Bertie and Miss Sara were so happy to see the group. There was life in their eyes. There seemed to be very little before. It’s like if their spirit had been waken up. I chatted with Miss Pearl briefly. She seemed so much more alert and enthusiastic. Mr.Clermont started singing to the residents who were on the porch accompanied by his guitar. I knew that Miss Sara was in a room at the back of the home and that she spends most or her days in bed since sitting up seems painful for her and she only manages with much assistance. I thought that she might enjoy the music too. So I asked Mr.Clermont if he would play for her. I lead the way to her tiny room. Her eyes were bright when we entered. I shook her hand and she didn’t let go. We started singing "Hey Jude". She seemed to enjoy it so much that we started to sing "Let It Be". Catching on to the rhythm, she started waving her hand back and forth on the wall. She caught on to the chorus as well and started singing "Let It Be" with us. At the end of the song, her hand still waving against the wall, she said: "Praise the Lord". And she said it several times. The women at Eira Schader were referred to as being deaf. But they can hear. They were referred to as being useless. But they do have life in them. It took so little from our part for that to come through. It saddens me and makes me angry to think that when we leave no one will take the time to hear them and to value them. And it may become difficult once again to see the life in their eyes.