Christmas at the Trenchtown Reading Center

By Naomi Isabel


Unlike every other Christmas where I would of course be with my two amazing children I made the choice to bring Christmas to the children of the Trenchtown reading center.

The day I arrived to do the market shopping there was no one at the center yet so I got taken by my “cabbie” to one of the volunteers’ houses. She was not home. It was here waiting pon the road with complete strangers I got a real feel for life in the ghetto. Stopping myself from running over to help someone or talk to anyone was hard. It was natural instinct to want to be chatty and helpful but I had to think twice as I was not one of them. I was a well-dressed white female on an unknown street with unknown faces in one of the most dangerous communities in the world. No helper, no friend, no one but myself and faces glaring. Stupid thoughts like, would they approach me for money, would they take my bags (filled with Christmas decorations and LOTS of cash for groceries) or even worse would the shirtless guy drinking rum come and make a forceful move on me. I am not joking when I say he had that look of lust and power in his eye. After a few minutes I realized nothing was going to happen to me, I have a confidence in my eyes and smile that assures people I know what I’m doing.

I carried this confidence as we walked to the nearby markets and shops with a couple of the children from the center acting as my make shift tour guides. Not one single shop here was one you could walk into. Everything was behind bars and half the time I couldn’t tell the difference between them! Except for the butcher. I knew we were at the butcher by the repugnant smell of god knows what, I don’t want to know! But we all agreed to get out of there asap!
I loved the markets!

The colors, delicious foods and spices, the music playing was awesome and I wished I wasn’t under so much pressure to hurry as I wanted to check it out and sit awhile. The pressure was felt because with all our shopping and obvious amounts of money to pay for it anyone at Christmas time would have been happy to take it off our hands. Yes, I felt like every eye was watching me. I have never experienced this anywhere else in Jamaica though.

The next day was filled with creative activities and I could feel the children getting more and more anxious for the celebrations. Many of them were acting out whether in excitement, over-eagerness or just plain naughtiness! Trying to get everything done I decided that some of the plans would have to go by the wayside as there just wasn’t enough hours in the day. By the end of a tiring day I got paint spilled all over me so I thought I may as well dive in and wash the tables, the walls, the floors etc. It was a therapeutic way of dealing with everything and I left later than planned that night wondering why no parents were to be seen helping the children or staff.

The day of the break up party started very early with the staff getting up at 5am to begin cooking. I didn’t arrive until almost 11am and much of the cooking was done. The menu for the children was rice and peas, pasta salad, coleslaw and jerk chicken followed by ice cream, cake and syrup. They eagerly awaited their meals by singing carols and recent hits word for word and I have great video footage you can view on Youtube. It was a joyful day. I spent an hour or so just reading outside and one little cutie fell asleep next to me. Although I was so happy to be experiencing everything with this community part of me was aching for my own children and part of me was aching knowing many kids out on the road were missing out on all this. A little girl stood at the gate watching me with sad eyes. She had no pants on and wasn’t dressed for Christmas dinner. I asked if she could come in and was told ‘no she don’t come here’. I guess that meant she wasn’t allowed or chose not to. I gave her an Australian hat and some coloring pages and she ran off smiling.

If I had the opportunity to do this again, I would with more dollars and more people. One of me was not enough to entertain and teach and clean and organise. I guess I had high expectations for myself and didn’t meet them but I’m sure the children were grateful. What hurt me the most about the whole experience was all the parents who came in to get their share of food however I had never seen them the whole week before. I wish they had been more involved in the other activities taking place prior to the party. I wish they would have come to pick up their child at the end of the day instead of letting them run the street home. But who am I to judge I haven’t lived their struggle and I don’t know their pain. I just hope and wish for a brighter future. I want to be the change.

I left the Christmas party before dessert and before the opening of presents. I didn’t want to be thanked or celebrated because I went to achieve something and I did. Heavy with thoughts of how on earth I could help keep this place alive I went back to my residence and began packing for Montego Bay.

I told my children that missing out on one Christmas and giving it to others is not something to be disappointed about. It’s actually the most meaningful Christmas you could have. Missing out for them meant knowing they helped change others’ lives. So to my beautiful children – thank you for your sacrifice and for allowing mum to follow her heart in life.

Peace & Blessings

Mama Nae