I never know when, how or who will cross my path when I travel.  I just trust that someone will do just that and it always seems to happen.  Sometimes, I might wander into the right souvenir shop as I did in Fiji.  On other occasions, I may be assigned a translator as happened in Transnistria and Moldova.  And, in Brasil, a cowboy came looking for me after he heard me on a radio broadcast.  So, I really mean it when I say I never know how it might happen.  In Jamaica, I was kind of thrust upon Greg Bailey.  Neither of us had a choice in the matter.  But, so very fortunately, the friendship was instantaneous.

Greg is an artist, and if you happen to run in the circles of those who know the art found in the National Art Gallery in Jamaica, you'd know that he's one of the country's up and coming painters.  I don't usually run in those kinds of circles, in America or anywhere else.  So, I've been so interested to learn a little of his story and find out how he's gotten where he is.  Greg has worked hard to establish his name, hone his talent, and get his art seen by the world.  And, I really mean the world.  In addition to shows in Jamaica, he's exhibited his work in London once and Germany twice.  He's come a long way from his rural upbringing in Warsop, Trelawny, in central Jamaica.

Part of that path would be easy to guess.  His Bachelors Degree in Fine Arts with an emphasis in painting was from the Edna Manley College of the Visual and Performing Arts in Kingston.  If you study art in Jamaica, or the English-speaking Caribbean, this is your destination.  And, along the path, he also tutored young artists, worked among inner city youth with Youth Opportunities Unlimited, and painted his own murals around the country.  Fortunately, the number of his murals is nowhere near sixty in twenty-six countries, or I just might not be able to even share my art with him.  I kind of mentioned that to Greg.  I mean, after all, he has had his art on display in the national gallery.  That'll never happen for me.  But, he didn't miss a beat and replied, "I wish my art was on display in Africa, Europe, North and South America."

Okay, so you see why I like him.

Most recently, Greg spent two years in Missouri (of all places!) where he received his Masters of Fine Arts at the Sam Fox School of Design and Visual Arts of Washington University in St. Louis.  His thesis was published by the Lambert Academic Publishers in Germany.  But, his real American education was learning that a patty means a hamburger instead of a Jamaican dish, there are so many kinds of steak, and what to put on a deep-dish pizza.

So, how was I thrust upon him?

Greg now teaches at the Edna Manley College of the Visual and Performing Arts.  And, one of his classes is Mural Design.  It sounds like a perfect fit.  Doesn't it?  A match made in heaven, or at least Jamaica?  My trip to Jamaica was sponsored by the U.S. Embassy and Edna Manley.  It was kinda destiny, but in order for destiny to function, there can be no art divas in the equation.

Hmmm . . . two artists working together.  What are the chances of an art diva showing up on the premises?

Actually, I'd say the odds were pretty high.

But, not this time.

I learned a mere three days before departure that I'd be teaching a couple lessons at Edna Manley.  I didn't know until I arrived in Jamaica that the classes would be a part of a mural design course.  Greg had about as much warning and information as I did.  It would have been wonderful to have had time to "meet" Greg online a few months in advance and plan things out.  That's not how it unfolded.  And, that's where the forcing took place.  I spent very little time with Greg before I walked into his classroom and I took over for three or so hours.  It takes a very gracious teacher to be willing to allow something like that to take place in his classroom.

I was impressed.

And, since that lesson, I've spent a lot more time with Greg Bailey.  He's not been a right-hand assistant on my murals.  It's more than that.  He painted, guided his students, assisted with the community, outlined the mural, talked of his culture, shared his food, and let me repeat, helped outline the murals.  That saves me an enormous amount of time and I rarely ever find anyone who can do it to my satisfaction.

So, with all this said, you might get the idea that I like this person.  Well, it might be the case if it weren't for one tragic flaw that just drives me crazy.  Insane crazy!  I simply do not understand how it is physically possible crazy.  Greg doesn't sweat.  Never.  Not a drop.  He may actually deny this truth, but I've been watching.  I've been eagle-eyeing him for just one little drop.  It doesn't happen.  He is about as opposite of me as you can get in the tropics.

Fifteen minutes.  That's about as long as any hint of freshness might last on one of my clean shirts.  I kid you not.  I know what drenched looks like, feels like and (sadly) smells like.  And, when I walk down the street, complete strangers say, "You got a good sweat on."  There is nothing good about it though.  There's just a good amount of it and that's not good.

Not so with Greg.

His clothes look as fresh and pressed as they did when he put them on so many hours before.  There are no lines of perspiration running down the sides of his face.  His hair isn't damp.  If you wanted, you could place your hand on his shoulder without sticking to anything.  Greg looks like he's stepped out of a modeling runway and I just want to run away.  But, if I did try that, I'd sweat even more.  Even though that may not be humanly possible.

So, let me say it now.  I really hate Greg Bailey.  And, he's one of the nicest people I've come across in any of my travels.  I hope to hate him for a very long time.

My guess is any time of the year is a good time to visit Jamaica.  I was supposed to visit in June, and then the schedule changed to July, and then it changed to January.  My vote would have been January all along.  I'll take any excuse I can to leave Ohio in the winter.  But, as it turned out, I finally visited the Caribbean in April . . . well, make that October.

After four delays, I wasn’t holding my breath when the fifth invitation came my way.  I had to see the airline ticket and hotel reservation before I would believe anything.  And, nothing was truly certain in my mind until I stepped onto the airplane.

Upon arrival in Kingston, I had a meeting at the U.S. embassy with their staff as well as representatives from the two communities scheduled for murals and the Edna Manley College of the Visual and Performing Arts.  It didn’t take long for me to see I was in good company and I think I set their minds at ease.  I hope so, anyway.

The first mural was in Standpipe, a community directly across the street from the U.S. Embassy.  A wall in a major intersection in the community was selected and, thankfully, it was very smooth.  The people I met with liked the idea of illustrating things inside the word “Standpipe”.  And, in case you were wondering, the area got its name because there once was a single standing pipe that provided water for the entire community.  Life has improved since then, but the name remains.

From left to right, the illustration begins with a Rasta man and his guitar.  Contrary to every stereotype in my mind, the majority of the people in Jamaica do not sport dreadlocks.  Yes, there are some, but not nearly as many as you might think.   If they don’t do it because of the heat, I completely understand.

Large metal drums that most likely once hauled gasoline or oil are converted into grills, called jerk pans.  Of course, if you use a grill that big, it’s for a community feeding.  And, the local favorite cooked in any of them is jerk chicken.  I guess you can have jerk goat or jerk whatever meat suits your tastes.  I drew a chicken who wrote the word “fish” under jerk chicken.

Loodie is a game very much like Sorry, but the board is much bigger.  You throw the dice and need a six to begin.  But, they don’t just toss the dice.  And, it’s way more than just a little wrist action.  The whole body is used to properly get that six.  One man I observed couldn’t get a six to save his life, but I told him he lost beautifully.  He used his body in ways I’d never be able to use mine.  I just don’t have the right genes.  But, he looked so good losing.

The design included a man playing basketball and a woman playing netball.  I included a couple of dominoes.  And, I like to toss in a map whenever I can.  Hovering above Jamaica were a couple of pineapples from the national crest, the national bird – a humming bird called a doctor bird – and the quote “Out of many, one people”.
Now, you can’t illustrate Standpipe without that original pipe.  To round out the mural, I added a tropical sun, a drummer, the Jamaican swallowtail and a red hibiscus.

I thought I was done.  After hours of work (and it takes so much longer than anyone really understands to assemble these kid-friendly cartoons into a mural), I went to bed.  But, in the middle of the night, I realized I forgot to add the number 59 somewhere for my latest mural.  When I figured out how to add it, I rolled back over for a few more zzz’s.  In the morning, I filled in a little negative space with one more domino.  You can already guess the two numbers on the tile.  However, I never dreamed there would be any controversy.  Most domino sets in Jamaica have six as the highest number.  It took a lot of explaining, almost every time someone passed by, to explain that nine.

Very fortunately, we had a tarp set up over the mural.  On the first day of painting, we needed protection from the rains.  Tropical rains.  Drenching, miserable, soak everything rains.  But, we successfully managed even though the paint was so slow to dry.  On every day after that, we needed the tarps to shade us from tropical rays.  Either way, I was drenched.  On the first day it was because of the rains and after that it was my usual tropical weather, fashion statement.  I get drenched, and drenched fast.  Some people might say I sweat like a pig.  I’ve never seen a pig sweat, but I know drenched when I am it.

The mural was so very well received in the community.  It was in a location that had a lot of foot traffic.  There was a lot of conversation, but it was usually in Jamaican Patois, a dialect that is English-based, with a smattering of French and Spanish and a whole lot of West African Akan.  You can listen to it, and it is lovely, but you will never understand enough to make heads or tails of it.  So, when my local contact in the Standpipe community, Boxer, wanted to really communicate with me, it had to be in English.  He said that there had been a lot of talk about me and the mural.  And, he came to one conclusion.  “You should move to Jamaica.”  I don’t think he could have given me a higher compliment.

I think it’s common for most of us to think that one person cannot make much of a difference in the world.  And, that kind of thinking can lead us to do a whole lot of nothing.  That’s why the story of Maianna Faraf and Paint Jamaica is so inspiring.  One person made a difference and it’s continuing and growing.

Farag, from France by way of New York City, first visited Jamaica in 2014.  You don’t have to be in Jamaica long to know that Fleet Street in Parade Gardens is not the kind of neighborhood that most tourists normally go to.  There are no beaches in sight and no stars by any hotels, if there are hotels.  It is an impoverished inner city location.  And, at 41 Fleet Street was the shell of an abandoned warehouse where Farag found inspiration.  In a location where some people, most people, would see urban despair, Farag saw a concrete canvas.  Farag knew that art could inspire a positive change in the community.

Now, I’m very impressed with this part of the story.  Somehow, this tourist found herself in the middle of the arts community while on her trip.  I’m not sure how that happens.  I’ve rarely experienced it.  But, that’s where Farag found herself and she asked, “Why don’t we use street art to uplift communities in need?”  That is how Paint Jamaica (Facebook link) started.  And, this street-art movement was launched to beautify the walls of the warehouse, the street, and eventually the neighboring school.  A ten-day group muraling project in July, 2014, began the change.  Not only do the murals gloriously transform the neighborhood, but they reduce the negative stigma that surrounds the place.  Truly, people come from around the world to find their way to 41 Fleet Street and witness its transformation into the largest street art gallery in the Caribbean.  These art-lovers wander a community that in the past no taxi driver would venture into.

The Paint Jamaica team realized that it takes a community to transform a neighborhood with art.  Yes, I took great comfort in that because it’s the same truth that I realized with my first mural when I began painting in Namibia so many years ago.  The murals in this neighborhood are community projects, using both local and guest artists.  And another thing I learned along the way was also happening in Paradise Gardens.  I’ve learned to work with the community to gather their ideas for the murals.  The same thing has happened in the work produced by Paint Jamaica.  They discussed the issues in the community before designing the murals.  They want to reflect their community through the murals created.  The art reflects peace, community, cooperation, unity and inspires positive change in the neighborhood.

The hope is that the changes will continue to spread and transform Kingston.  It isn’t just art.  It’s art that repairs broken-down social barriers, unites a community and breathes hope into an area where it was once lost.  Crime has reduced, as well as litter.  The murals have helped to change the landscape and revive the community.

When I went to Fleet Street, I went with a local person.  It’s always the best way to explore any new location, anywhere in the world.  My friend knew that the narrow opening in a metal wall, across from the warehouse canvas, was actually the entrance to Life Yard (Facebook link).  But, even knowing it’s the entrance, you still have to know to squeeze down the very narrow pathway on the right, between two buildings.  It opens up to a small garden oasis where you would never expect one.  And, in this oasis, students can safely study, play and practice yoga or capoeira.  At the same time tourists can taste organic delights in the restaurant where they eat what they grow and grow what they eat.  Additionally, visitors should sample the homemade juice bar combinations under tropical heat (which I absolutely recommend).  

The Rasta men of Life Yard decided that positive action needed to be taken in order to take back their community from crime and violence.  And, they had the hands to do just that.   The people of Life Yard are multicultural, intergenerational and eco-friendly. Together they reach out to their neighbors throughout Fleet Street, across Parade Gardens and into neighboring communities.  They are craftsmen, artists, farmers and teachers who want to help hone the skills of the children who live in their inner city community.  And, they also work with adults teaching life and job skills.

It’s incredible to walk the street and wander through the warehouse to see what has happened on Fleet Street.  But, unless you visit on the right day, you are not likely to see actual paintings going up on the walls.  You will, however, find people who truly care about their community when you locate the Life Yard sign and wander back into their oasis.  These people give the Fleet Street transformation an actual face that you might otherwise miss.

Paint Jamaica and Life Yard want to change the entire downtown area of Kingston.  There is a lot of “canvas” yet to be painted.  On Fleet Street the people have realized what art can bring into their lives.  Jamaica, an island with rich culture and talented artists, is transforming one mural at a time.  One woman’s dream is now celebrated by a street, across a community, throughout an island and around the world.