In my Experience: The REAL Jamaica (NOW WITH PICS)

 I spent 5 weeks living with locals near the village of Wakefield, Trelawny, Jamaica in 2017.  My experiences imparted both the extreme polarities of bright Joy, and hopeless suffering. The Powerful full rainbow light spectrum of the 18 degree north latitude Caribbean sun rays and the warm spiritual light of the Rastafarians balanced the dense vibrations of the Jamaican shadows of darkness, lurking injury, illness, and stalking death. I was invited, welcomed, sheltered, and nurtured by the community. The Rastas protected me like Brothers and are pure warriors. Spiritual mystics having developed necessary martial arts master level skills with their machetes'. Possessing some Christ like qualities, the Rastafarians are benevolent, and seemed more sensitive than many of us Americans. Being less programmed, more conscious (aware), having higher sensory abilities, entertaining only positivity, and holding great powers of expression.  Fully accepting me as as a fellow Rasta in training, I was taught everything I needed to know to be a Rasta, and how to survive on the island. I learned early on how to harvest coconuts or 'jelly" with a 25 foot long bamboo pole and properly open them with a machete'. Refreshing coconut water and scrumptious custard like coconut "meat" is a blissful and highly nutritious treat. They showed me where the most flavorful mango and jackfruit trees were located, which fruits to choose, and how to properly harvest and consume them. Maybe try a likkle sea salt on the jackfruit Mon. The Rastas warned me of witchdoctors (black magic voodoo priests) who set mystical traps for the unsuspecting and unaware. Tiny vampiric mosquitos are a near constant threat and always linger in those shadows, driving us all a bit mad at times with their relentless attacks. I learned to swat a mosquito on my skin in a downward motion as to not get the mosquitos' proboscus stuck inside the inner layers of my skin causing a gradual onset of illness. Viciously aggressive stray dogs live in just about every community in Jamaica. Unlike Americans, the Jamaicans refuse to kill any stray dog or pack who attacks a human, even a child. As a result, these dogs know that they are empowered. The dogs' bites as well as the mosquitos can transfer unknown diseases to their victims, and sadly I didn't bring enough Chlorine dioxide MMS solution to treat everyone around who had fallen ill. Numerous times I had to put my Pekiti Tirsia Kali training to use swinging a self harvested bamboo stick in geometrical directions at the dogs to defend myself from being ripped open. The sound of the night in Jamaica is marked by the soothing chorus of the lesser antilles frogs and the meditating pulse of roots reggae and nyabinghi drums as well as the occasional low baseline booms of dancehall music. At night, the dogs become brazen with heightened aggression. Even with a stick certain areas like the local elementary schoolyard are forbidden to go at night as there are too many bloodthirsty canines to fight off. They attack in packs, strategically, calculating, with frightening viciousness. In the mornings, Goat carcasses could be found drained of blood. I saw how predators first drink all the blood, then eat the choice organs while leaving the meat to rot for the bottom feeders. One night, a local drunk was passed out on the ground. I intuited the dogs zeroing in on him and got a youth to help me lift him into a shed for the night. The dogs were going to kill him. The following morning the punctuating cock a dooodle doos of the roosters awakened me. After finishing my AM yoga practice and having some instant Blue mountain coffee, I emerged from my Jamaican Mommy's house to be greeted and approached by several members of the community casting full warm smiles upon me and singing "King Joshua, King Joshua, King Joshua. Rastafari King Joshua power of the trinity 1 and 3, 3 and 1 King Joshua. You saved the drunk Mon! You knew! You protect us! You are Jamaican! Yah Mon! I was becoming famous inna the field of Trelawny. I began to suffer from a slow starvation as we didn't always have enough food. Protein was only to be eaten if we or one of the locals caught nuff fish, shrimp or managed to hit a wild game bird with a rock. The Rastafarians are vegetarian and eat fish, no other meat. I adopted their diet, "eat from the sea which has scales".  Scrumptious and highly nutritious breadfruit was enjoyed for breakfast along with wheat dumplings or peas and rice. Sometimes a hen would make a specific egg laying call and one could eat the egg if it could be found. The chickens are couped up at night for safety and generally don't lay so many eggs until freed to the yard in the mornings. They know to return to the coup well before sunset. The nutritious, rich fatty fruit of the Ackee tree is combined with white saltfish and was thoroughly enjoyed as a national favorite on days of more caloric abundance, such as Sundays. Portions tended to be small as there is not so much to go around and feed everyone. A local spinach called callaloo, along with many varieties of unsweet and sweet banana and some pineapple were to be harvested in the extensive garden behind Mommy's house. Sometimes while in the garden earthing and soaking up the tropical sun some of the dogs would roam through and watch me from behind the crops. My bamboo stick and confidence was always with me.  Food was cooked in cast iron pots on a fire as in the days of old. The roads in Jamaica contain ridiculous potholes and tires need to be deflated or will quickly burst. Many locals will drive loaded up with the local hi-grade ganja and rum and quickly accelerate to freeway speeds along smooth sections of the "roads". Pedestrians move clear or risk being smashed by the driver who momentarily loses focus shifting into their high. Death rates from all sorts of accidents, and murder, are off the charts. Some of the youth, having little hope and opportunity to build a good life, coupled with a lottery chance to be able to leave the island and see the world, resort to using dangerous drugs or selling them. Many of them carry rudimentary pistols in their shorts and will kill any rival without warning or hesitation. Human suffering and hopelessness is an evident fact of life in Jamaica. Social is the most important activity for the Jamaicans, as it is within the African cultures. Cooperation is key to survival. Burning any bridges here is not wise as there is nowhere to go and little opportunity for independence. Charles Darwin's twisted ideology of survival of the fittest is completely false. Human beings have survived through cooperation, as we possess intellect and benevolence, rather than teeth and claws. Love is creativity, and to be able to survive inna Jamaica, possessing both skill and creativity are crucial.  In African tribal cultures, such as the Maasai, if a member of the community mistreats a human or animal person they can and will be banished to go it alone in nature. This is a death sentence for the selfish or mentally and emotionally ill individual. So what was an American man of mainly Celtic and Norse descent, who lived within walking distance of the beach in America's finest city of San Diego doing trying out life in one of the most dangerous places on our planet? I was learning. Learning about a truly unique variation of our Human culture, and learning to appreciate my culture and country much more. Experiencing the importance and vitalness of cooperation, as my independent, high consumption lifestyle had fed my ego more than was healthy for my spiritual growth. Real ting Mon! A Rasta Man come from Zion, A Rasta Man a Lion! HAIL D I, KING SELASSIE I,  JAH RASTAFARI.. I&I.  POWER OF THE TRINITY 1 AND  3, 3 AND 1...WORD SOUND POWER!