We have been kind of out straight since we got back. But the big push is over now and since my bank plunged us in to cash flow poverty because of their new improved debit card, things are much quieter around here. Bobo has been out gardening.

Our two big priorities were: 1. Fix the car. I wrote about the sneaky, “jinnal” person, who took a lot of money, didn’t do much and managed to burn various important components on our vehicle. Ricky the taxi-man, (blessings upon him), connected us to a good bodywork man. We had brought three suitcases with parts from Ebay when we came. The bodywork man installed a few of these and drove the poor carcass to the garage. Bobo then had to spend four full days at the garage because otherwise the work would not get done. The “juker man” who paints things, was the biggest management problem. He took half the money in advance and then didn’t have any to buy the paint. “Take him with you to the paint shop and buy the paint yourself then deduct it from the money you owe,” was my advice, which proved good.

The no 2 priority was to get the fancy tile roof put on our house. We drove to Kingston to purchase the materials for “Short Man,” the roofer, to use. (“Short man,” by the way, is a serious and professional person. If you need a roof, let me recommend him!) It was a long and very rough trip, involving long waits at various places in the heat. At one huge hardware store, waiting for the delivery truck to get arranged, I found this chair to sit on. I have always wanted to write a story about Jamaican chairs.

The next morning, we had to go into Port Antonio to register the car. This involved getting a ticket in front of the revenue office, going to the photo shop to print out the insurance forms, coming back and hanging out across the road in the shade of the gas station with all the other petitioners. Bobo got me this chair, and I was happy to get it.

I said I was sorry for the poor functionary whose job it was to hand out tickets and keep people from barging into the revenue office. Bobo said that the guy is probably hawking the tickets and there is some sort of ticket scam going on. “Something agwaan.” I am such an innocent!

Once I got in there the nice lady said I would have to get the insurance form changed because it only had my name on it and the title was in both of our names. I had to leave and go to the insurance office where an elegant young man, who was very conscientious about the electronic hand sanitizing machine, consented to help. Thank God! He required four pages of forms to be filled out and signed by Bobo. Fortunately, Bobo was nearby, and the phone worked. The Fates smiled on me that day! Back to the revenue office, the functionary let me jump the line, even though one poor bastard in the same situation was told to get a new ticket. So, I got our plates and our sticker and paid the fee. Yay!

The next day it was back again to Kingston to return the rental to the airport and to pay for the roofing tiles because they don’t have a credit card machine in Porti. We took two cars. Yes, our Subaru was fixed! It is still missing a few little parts of itself, but it drives great and looks pretty good. Benz, the electrician, our neighbor, drove it with “Natural” as his sidekick.

It is a lot easier to get things done in the States. Everything takes ten times as long here. But I can deal with it. I am a trained person. I lived in India many years and in the department of Byzantine bureaucracy India wins hands down over Jamaica! I recall those cavernous and dark government offices with the six-foot piles of ledgers on top of ancient file cabinets and the ceiling fans slowly turning up there in the colonial gloom. Innumerable clerks sit behind their heavy wood desks with their little clerkly plots and plans to drive you mad. Jamaica, believe me, you can’t hold a candle to India in the category of “this requires a superhuman level of patience!” Why do you think India has such a spiritual tradition? Deal with some of the stuff there without freaking out and that is yoga!