Backstory: organization before work

There goes that tremor again. A common experience shared by most in the area. Happens at rare moments, no one has bothered to complain.

There is also this deep hum that accompanies the tremor. I have yet to meet another that share this experience. It seems so far that no one else can hear it. A brief moment of nausea follows every episode. This time is no different.

“You alright man?” Easy asked looking a tad worried.

It was a pleasant day out on the avenue. We were both perched on the fence outside our house. I nodded at his concern and shifted from the fence to the sidewalk. I began pacing around slowly. Easy handed me the spliff he’d been nursing. I took a healthy drag, passed it back and nodded in appreciation.

Easy and I lived in the same building. Been friends for a short while. He had no known family. Hadn’t finished school and spent most of his life doing labor-intensive work. Despite all that, he was very sharp, very chill and well aware.

I exhaled slowly with my eyes closed and waited patiently for the effects to saturate. “I need to go up there,” I rambled. “Maybe catch one of them outside in their yard and ask questions.”

“You need to go see a Doctor.” Easy chimed in. “Is not normal, what you feelin'”.

Medicine in Jamaica is frightful. Greedy local and foreign entrepreneurs scrambling to suck as much wealth from a captive audience of poverty, suffering, and pain. I don’t like doctors. Don’t trust them and most certainly not planning on spending hours in line for a prescription.  My nausea eventually subsided and I started to feel normal again.

“Nah, I’ll pass on the doctor,” I mumbled. “They cost too much to support anyways and I am just not confident they can help.”  I pointed towards the fortified facility further up the hill. “I need to go up there and ask them what the fuck?”

“A little organization before work is always a good idea!” Easy joked.

“What?” I asked impatiently.

Easy took a gentle tug from his spliff and exhaled wistfully. “Look, you have questions. But. You don’t even know if they speak English. You don’t even know if they are Russians.” Easy hopped onto the sidewalk and turned to me. “Do your homework before you waste your time wandering up there.”

He handed me the remainder of his smoke and started a trek down the street. “No more weed.” He exclaimed. “I’ll be right back.”