Day in the life of

I have been given a homework assignment from York. Even after a 9 month school year, it’s the University which keeps on giving (I probably just just booked myself an early trip home for that little jab). I have been given the task to write a blog which gives a little insight into the world in which I am currently living. I feel that through my past couple of anecdotes that you readers have gotten a little glimpse into the goings on of life here in St. Kitts, but I guess I’ll give you a closer look.

The best way to see a slice of my daily life is to chronicle a typical walk home from work.

The walk starts at about 4:15, as I leave the office. I walk out the door, and I see the same sight everyday. Chilling on the porch of one of the buildings is a crew of about 7 goats, and apparently they ride together, and they die together. Every time I see them they are either posting up on the wall napping, or walking really slow together hollering at the honeys while giving dirty looks to anyone else. Whenever I try to say what-up to them, they just stand there and stare at me. It’s kind of awkward.

As I continue the journey, I pass a couple of schools and walk through the main intersection in town. St. Kitts is a really friendly place and as I walk home I get a real sense of this. There are always people who greet me on my walk to and from work, and I kindly greet them back. There are a two of ways this interaction usually happens. Some people greet me like they would any other person they see on the street. The second, and most interesting group, are the ones which are probably seeing their first ever ginger kid in their neighborhood, and are amazed that this white boy is actually saying hello. You see, the vast majority of white people in St. Kitts are either FOBs (Fresh Off the cruise Boat) or live in the wealthy rural gated communities. I fit into neither of these categories, and as I will soon get into, live in an area devoid of said tourists and a neighborhood which has been stigmatized as a place rife with gang-violence.

I had been hoping to keep to this from my mom and grandma, but while I live in a very nice apartment, whenever I mention to locals the area in which I live, their jaws always drop. I liken the area to the Jane-Finch community in Toronto, both in its stigma, but also in its neglect by social services and infrastructure. But like the Jane-Finch neighborhood, there is a strong sense of community and plenty of young people.

I turn the corner and say what-up to the homeboys on the block, the ones who spend all day washing tricked out cars. I say hello to Ms. Small, the old lady always on her porch. I get a hug from Johanna, the little toddler who lives across the street. Just like any community which outsiders see as dangerous, once you begin living there and actually interacting with the neighbors in a respectful manner, the place becomes very welcoming. No need to worry though, I am keeping it real. I conduct all of this (to the best of my abilities) through a lens which recognizes that I am still an outsider, both racially and economically, understanding that all of these interactions are directly affected by these factors.

I end the day by heading to the corner bar. St. Kittitians have a particular brand of bar which is vastly different then what we are used to in Canada. First, it’s a hang-out for everyone in the community, kids of all ages are welcome. Second, they specialize in fried chicken. Third, they sell a wide variety of beer, all day long. Fourth, they have video games hooked up. And finally, they have big club speakers with a DJ spinning hip hop until sundown. They have managed to integrate the five most important pinnacles of my personality into a place the size of my old bedroom.

However, it is now dinner time and I am sorry, but I am going to have to make like a tree and go.