The Right Direction

August 6: Ms. Zenie

Ever since I was little, I had this vision of being on a balcony in Paris, red lipstick, long ass cigarette holder in hand as I take deep drags and blow effortlessly. Now I don’t know why I was in Paris, or even smoking a cigarette, but somehow that was my image of a bad bitch who didn’t care about what others thought of her, living her life as a walking trigger to those who weren’t brave enough to live out their truth.

That woman was the epitome of who I wanted to be—going after what she wanted and refusing to waste her time on this Earth trying to be anything other than what God destined for her. She knew exactly the energy that she brought to any space. An energy that demanded respect. An energy that commanded it. It took me 32 years to learn that that image in my head belonged to a white woman. The woman I really wanted to be was Ms. Zenie.

When Damion and I pulled up to Coco Gardens, I couldn’t believe the perfectly manicured grounds. The lush flowers. Ripened fruit trees. The vitality. We pulled around to the back of the property, and received a vicious greeting from Coco, the compound’s not so friendly pit bull, and the 24 hour security system. Ms. Zenie walked out to give a warmer welcome, signaling to Coco that we weren’t intruders, but guests. Breasts swaying, dress flowing, Ms. Zenie’s skin looked like she exfoliated in the sea every morning.

She was breathtaking, not only because of her beauty, but her energy. That woman in Paris energy. I can’t say I had ever imagined that that vision would show up as a russet brown Jamaican woman with a curly salt and pepper afro, but I can say that the energy I felt was exactly what I had in mind. Damion said that you can tell how strong a woman is by her hair. 

And if any part of that is true, Ms. Zenie is a strong woman. She’s 65 with no ailments and has managed Coco Gardens for over 40 years. She divorced her husband and was left with this property, which, according to her, was only a fraction of what she was due. In her past life, she owned a restaurant that fed half of Negril, then a clothing boutique, but now, she spends her time maintaining Coco Gardens alongside the groundskeepers. She designed the array of native flowers and trees that line the compound providing food, shade, and inspiration.

It was a huge relief to be met with a safe arrival and divine confirmation today. Ms. Zenie was the woman of my dreams. And as mean as Coco was, I knew she would protect us. Everyone there made sure I had everything I needed.

I settled into the room that I reserved for the next week. It came with AC, hot water and a tiny kitchenette that will be perfect for steeping my fresh herbs for tea. I write on the balcony and smoke spliffs that a rastaman gave me, pulling in and blowing out effortlessly. One year ago, I was on antidepressants and taking a leave of absence from work after stressing myself into someone I no longer recognized. Now I am realizing that there is no better medicine than what God has already given us. The next 30 days will be my detox from the social pressures, my digital addiction, processed food, and a sedentary lifestyle. I came to Jamaica to find some balance and to release what is no longer serving me. I also came to find my purpose (or at the very least the right direction to go find it) and to remind myself that at my core, I am enough.

As I was writing, Ms. Zenie walked through the yard, busying herself with some housekeeping. I felt like we had known each other for years. And if you ask me, we did. I had been imagining her all this time, and my spirit recognized that. The universe conspired it. And now, it was just up to me to live in it.

“Ms. Zenie,” I called. “Do you have some scissors? I want to cut my hair off.”

August 7: Damion

Damion said something yesterday, when we went out for a late lunch after he picked me from the beach. It was a concept that I hadn’t really thought through clearly.

I asked him with curiosity, and a bit of assumption, “Do you believe that everyone has a purpose? That we are put on this Earth for a specific thing - a natural talent or gift that we are meant to share with this world?”

He said, “No. My purpose is to live. To take care of myself and to do that everyday.”

Imagine that—just waking up with the sole purpose to breathe and walk and drink and eat. How light of a feeling to not be weighed down by the expectation to have a path figured out for your life, let alone excelling in that direction. Less than 24 hours on the island and somehow I am already reimagining why I am here.

August 10: Pops

The ocean water is calm and comforting, and you can see straight through to your toes in the sand. Each time I step, the fish swim away in big schools. I’ve been swimming after work, but for some reason, I had the urge to go out to the beach as soon as I woke up this morning. It was so quiet, so peaceful and I felt so accomplished that I had made it to the water along with all of the overachievers! People were running, swimming, and fishing. Not long after I started my swim routine, a boat came by. Two guys were pulling up the nets to see if anything was in it. A skinny dude with bleached locs hopped off the boat and waded in my direction. I was immediately mad at myself for making eye contact. I knew he would want to talk and I had about 30 minutes to get a few more laps in before I needed to log on for work.

“What kind of fish are you all catching,” I asked, after we had already gone through the routine small talk.

“Jax.”

I had never heard of those. As he came closer, I noticed the softness in his face. I could tell that the morning waters were his peace, just like they were mine. He said they call him Pops—born and raised in Negril—he grew up right here on 7 mile beach. I gave him my backstory: the corporate life, the stress, and the need to get away from it all. I came to his island determined to build up enough endorphins to last me until my next trip back and swimming everyday greatly helped with that. He handed me his goggles and I swam around for a few minutes looking at all of the sea life. Most of the big fish were totally unbothered by me.

“You aren’t scared of sharks and stingrays?” I asked, coming up for air.

“Di sharks nuh cum inland, dem out by di cliffs, near di westend.”

That made sense to me.

“Besides,” he said, “Nuttin’ to be afraid of. If you have fear inna your heart, they smell it in you. You can’t keep it inna your heart.”

I wondered how much that same logic applied to everything else in my life. If I let the fear stay in my heart, I wouldn’t be here right now. So many people warned me of the crime in Jamaica, the deaths of solo travelers, and even the friends’ trips that went awry with people ending up in jail. And whenever I heard those comments, I couldn’t help but think of the dangers of not going, and relying only on the possibility of something bad happening. So far, I was glad that I didn’t keep that fear in my heart, because I could very well attract a bad traveling omen to me. It feels like I was destined to meet everyone I’ve interacted with. And Pops, well, he was just the reminder that I needed to carry me through the next 3 weeks. No fear.

It was almost time for me to clock in, and I told pops that I couldn’t be late. He told me to come back that afternoon and he would take me snorkeling out by the reefs. I promised I would come back and I regretted not being able to stay out longer.

I walked back to the compound and stopped to rinse my feet off at the outside water spout. Ms. Zenie rounded the corner.

“Ah! I see you are enjoying your stay! Beautiful swimming in the morning.”

“The water was magical, Ms. Zenie!” I glanced at Coco, bathing in the sun, before rounding the steps up to my room. She no longer barks when I am coming to and from.

Lunchtime came and an afternoon thunderstorm followed. It poured until nightfall and I let my mind entertain the idea that Pops was just as sad about missing out on the reef as I was.

August 16: Portland

Everyone has been talking about Portland. I’ve heard that it is the safest parish, has the best jerk, and as Damion always says, “Portland is the soul of Jamaica.”

I’ll be the first to admit that the safety was very enticing, but for me personally, I was visiting Portland for the famous Blue Lagoon. There are blue holes all over the island; and I’m sure there are plenty better than the Blue Lagoon that haven’t seen the likes of TikTok. But as a tourist, it was an attraction that I just could not pass up. It was my last day before heading back to Negril and I took off early to fit in one last adventure.

Only God Herself could make something this magical—a simultaneous mix of cold and hot temperatures because of the freshwater from the river and the saltwater from the sea. I could’ve never imagined something as wondrous as this, with the greenery bordering the hole. It looked like something straight out of the Jungle Book filled with plants that would laugh at their cousins in Home Depot. The water was purely blue and crystal clear at the same time. Legend has it that the Blue Lagoon is the home of mermaids and monsters too. But even with the monsters, the most mystifying thing to me was that no one had ever drowned in this 200 feet deep heavenly blue hole. Hot, then cold. Pure then salty. I laid my head back, closed my eyes and floated on top of the water, the bright sun lightly warmed my face. Surely this is what Damion meant when he said that the only thing he is expected to do is to live. 

I thought of Pops when the depth of the water induced fear. There is no reason to be afraid. My heart softened and brought the rest of my body down with it. I released the tension from the moment and allowed myself to just be—something that this island has helped me to become more and more comfortable with. The waters have taught me to be more accepting and to find the love in what loves me. I came on this trip to find clarity on who I was created to be, but maybe that’s not the only reason why I’m  here.

I dipped my head under the water and let my feet follow. I decided that I don’t need to figure anything out at this moment. Right now, joy is enough.

Maya (she/her/hers) is a native of Greensboro, North Carolina. She graduated with her bachelor’s degree in Communication Studies from the University of North Carolina at Charlotte and completed her M.Ed at the University of Maryland College Park. Her background is in (college) student development and event production. While she currently works in research, she considers herself an educator who works with youth to use journaling as a way to express themselves. She loves spending time with her family, swimming with the Evolutionary Aquatics, practicing yoga, and being present in the moment.

SISTORIES PROMPT

Write in your journal or respond in the comment section below.

1. Make a list of three things you like about yourself and then make another list of three things that bring you pleasure. Use both lists to create a poem. Try to incorporate everything you listed into the poem.

2. As a child, how did you imagine your future self? Who did you want to be? How did you want to dress and talk and exist in the world? How does your present self compare to who you imagined yourself as in childhood?

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