Two Weeks Alone in Negril

I spent two weeks traveling alone in Negril, Jamaica.

When you travel alone in Jamaica, however, you really are alone only as long as you want to be. As soon as you are ready to engage with the outside world, there are plenty of people willing to talk.

I spent my first few days here enjoying my solitude. When people called to me on the street, I ignored them. When people tried to start conversations on the beach, I cut them off. I wanted to be alone. I particularly didn't want to be bothered with inane conversations: "What's your name? Where are you from? First time in Jamaica?" Yeah, those can be pretty annoying. I know it sounds rude, but I find that, if I am not going to talk to a person, it is better to completely ignore them than to respond to their shouts and try to explain to them that you don't want to have a conversation. People usually assume you didn't hear them.

After a few days, however, I felt as though I had regained my grounding, and began to talk to people more. I started talking to people I know from the last time I was here. I am here in Negril doing ethnography, but my first few days were purely observational. After a few days, however, I had some questions about what I was seeing, so it was a suitable time to begin to engage in conversation.

The first person I spoke with for an extended period of time was a Jamaican who lived abroad for many years, but has now settled back in Jamaica. We chatted for a bit about how you can tell the difference between a Jamaican from Kingston and one who has lived abroad. The differences are often subtle, as urban working class Jamaicans and urban working class New Yorkers often dress quite similarly. As I began to have more questions and ideas about my work on Jamaican return migration, I engaged in more and more conversations.

I met up with a friend who was deported two years ago, and we talked about how he has learned to survive here in Negril. He explained to me that he works with the guys who change money. He hangs around and is available to run errands for them whenever they need it. They have grown to trust him, and give him tips whenever he runs an errand. With that money, plus the money his mother sends from the US, he is able to get by.

My last four days here in Jamaica, I completely emerged from my shell. I realized I only had a few days left, and had to get as much ethnography in as possible. After being here for ten days, I had a good idea as to who I could talk to and who I shouldn't. I started having conversations with strangers. This turned out to be remarkably enjoyable and informative.

On Friday, as I walked along the beach, an older rasta began to chat with me.We walked for about two miles along the beach, and he recounted to me how he had traveled to the US and been deported, and then gone to Europe and had been deported as well. Now, he makes a living working at a local bar. He is a deportee, but I doubt anyone would know it without talking to him for quite some time.

On Wednesday, I went out to a bar and chatted with several people about my work. These conversations helped me get a better understanding of why some deportees are able to get by and others aren't. Basically, in Jamaica, you have to figure out how things work and find a place for yourself within that framework. For some, starting a small business is the only way they will be successful. Others are willing to accept the status hierarchies and submissiveness that go along with working for someone else and can do that to survive. Still others figure out a hustle on the streets that works for them and do that to get by.

The first few days I was alone in Negril, it had been so long since I had long periods of time to myself that I really had to embrace my solitude and get comfortable with myself again. Soon enough, however, I had to start engaging with people. And, I am glad I did.

When you are traveling alone, you have the choice as to whether or not you want to talk to people. It was nice to have that choice for a while.