My time in Jamaica is coming to a close - for now. This part of my journey has been so full and so rich - I’ve been wrapped in experience - documenting all the while. With internet not always easily accessible (and quite frankly, not always preferred), I’ve become quite back logged. So I think I may end up doling out the moments in spontaneous order. Life and time really aren’t linear anyway.
Yesterday, my last full day in Jamaica was the most healing. We woke leisurely and had breakfast at our little hotel in Kingston. It’s one of those places that even Kingston natives don’t all know about. Church owned, quaint, gated property. Unassuming, off Hope Road. There’s a naseberry tree on the grounds - which will surely be my breakfast this morning before I depart, and a mango tree on the other side. I’m a bit early for mango season, but that’s ok. It just means I’ll have to come back.
We dressed ourselves and set out on our day trip to Bath Fountain - the natural mineral springs up in the mountains of St. Thomas. The drive was about 2 hours. The day was overcast with short showers. Ayana kept thinking we must’ve passed the Baths because we were on the main road everyone was telling us to take for what seemed to her an eternity.
Finally we made our last turn off the main road into Bath Fountain area. There was a young woman along the road getting our attention. Ayana decided to pick her up and give her a ride. Later on, up the same road we ran into her friend who hopped in on the other side.
“You going to Bath Fountain todey?” the first young lady asked.
“Yes”.
“It’s 130 degrees, de wata. Natural spring, very healing. Sulfur and limestone detoxifies yer body. De wata purifies you.”
We drove them up to the top, thinking we were just giving two young ladies a lift to work, but in actuality, they were ahead of the game, as we soon discovered they were to be our guides.
They took us across the bridge and along a short hike up through the lush green, brown, rocky, watery place. I had that feeling in my soul…a feeling that has no words, just feelings, a daze - a magical moment where I’m totally alive yet not fully in my body. Like I am the water and the trees and the earth, and all the people around me. As we walked a Rastaman joined our small caravan, walking behind me.
As we got closer I heard the sound of drums. And voices in unison. We cross the river and see the congregation - the church was at the fountain having a baptism. It must have been something great, because the people of the river said they rarely see a church congregation come up this way. They all wore red plaid shirts and tan bottoms. The women had matching red plaid head wraps and wore long skirts. The drums beat as the people chanted and sang.
We took off our clothes and sat in our bathing suits as the healing process began for each of us. The Rastaman sat me down on a rock and began sprinkling the hot water over me.
“You are blessed to be here today. Dis wata is healing yuh. De mar you bah-lieve the wata is healing you, de mar de wata heals yuh. “
He said something else that seemed like a prayer that I couldn’t understand.
The water was hot, but it came easy and felt so right. I could smell the sulfur in the air. He laid me down on a bed of rocks for a healing massage with a special oil and the hot, healing water. The drums continued. People were speaking in tongues and calling out to Jesus. Wailing and chanting and dancing. I lay there, melting as pain washed away. The tears poured like sunshine out of my eyes and all I could do is pray to stay in the flow and be thankful. I looked up and the sky was so beautiful.
After the massage he covered me completely in a natural sulfur and limestone clay that came right from the rocks where we were. I looked over at Ayana, who was also coated in the green clay and smiled. She had been massaged by both the women.
One of the women suggested we take a picture. I thought, video would probably be best - to get the sounds around us. But for some reason the battery on my video camera was dead. I must’ve left it on because I had just used it in the car on the way to the springs to film as we were stopped by the police at a road block. Ayana was honored because, she said, they must’ve thought we were local Jamaicans. They don’t stop tourists.
I didn’t seem to mind about the camera. I was so wrapped in the bliss of the moment, I couldn’t imagine shifting gears into technology mode.
There were a few more people gathered by the bathing place now. A few there for healing, and a few who perhaps are always there. They were looking at the congregation and making comments.
“They need to be considerate,” one man said of the church.
I didn’t really understand what he was talking about.
Once the clay hardened, we were each one by one escorted to the other side of the river to wash off. We had to walk past the congregation. We walked along the outer perimeter of the circle of people - they had filled up the entire width of the flowing river. Some people were held up by others as they fainted and convulsed. Others danced.
“De wata is cold, but soon yuh won’t want to leave it,” the Rastaman said. And he was right. He rinsed all the clay off me, then invited me to lay down in the river, where the water rushed down the rocks. I did. And it was invigorating!
We stopped by one opening in the spring to drink the hot sulfur water. mmmmmmm. And there was one more opening of the hot sulfur water, a much stronger stream, in the middle of the river - where the congregation was. Ayana was led by her girls around the perimeter past the baptism, but the Rastaman took it upon himself to lead me right through the people, directly to the source of the spring so I could shower in the hot healing stream.
I was mostly naked, in the center of all these church people who chanted and spoke in tongues connecting with their ancestors - feeling at once like an intruder, and a blind child. I chose to accept all the healing that was taking place in that whirlwind of a moment. I saw the man all the people had gathered for. He sat in the river surrounded by love and praise and the spirits of the ancestors. I hope they all saw me as a fellow. I hope they spread some of the baptismal energy into me. I felt a reluctant acceptance. Confusion. Disappointment and also wisdom among the crowd.
As we gathered our things to go, one of the young women filled my large water bottle with some water from the hot spring. I still have it with me. I think I’ll take a sip.
We drove back past Kingston into Portmore. And there I felt the childhood of my beloved.
