On the way to our first few nights stay at a friend’s house in Jamaica, upon turning off the main road on to a secondary street, we saw a dilapidated building. It literally looked like it might cave in (literally!) at any time, as the walls were completely bowed in. To my amazement, it was packed with men all having an animated conversation. Our taxi driver said the group was having a town hall meeting. Of course like everything else along the way, I found it interesting and began clicking away with my camera.
Just then, a man came out waving his arms and yelling to me. I knew he was yelling to me because we had made eye contact.
Arms held high in the air he ran and stood next to a HUGE old tree. He yelled happily with the biggest smile on his face, Rastafari! Rastafari, mon! Take my piccha! Take my piccha!
And so I obliged, gave the thumbs up, smiled and waved back to him. He waved goodbye for as long as I could see as we made our way down the gravel road.