Looking back, it sounds insane. In the late 1980s, I traveled to Jamaica with a friend of mine, rented a couple of 50 cc Honda motorbikes, and traveled all over the country, intentionally avoiding the resort areas. I saw a Jamaica that bore no resemblance to the white-sand beaches of tourist renown. We rolled through desperately poor villages in the interior, like the place called Rat Trap, where half-naked young men in rags blocked our way, hollering and gesturing at us to stop.
Recent Posts
- Kirk Franklin Chronicles Finding His Birth Father at 53
- The Blaming Others Game
- How To Pray For Your Sexual Life
- Why You Need To Set Boundaries
- Stop Trying To Mould Your Child Into Who You Wanted To Be
- Beware Of The Leaven Bread Of Malice
- 10 Ways To Know A Toxic Person
- Shelby Houston’s Story Of Forgiving Her Father’s Killer
Monday, September 25
Login