About this time last year, I made the decision to trade in my Christmas break for 12 days in the Jamaican sunshine with Ignacio volunteers. I expected to have the time of my life while serving the people of Kingston, Ad Majorem Dei Glorium.
I expected to run a classroom full of eager children, to serve the elderly at Mother Teresa’s Home for the Destitute and Dying, to play with the children at the local children’s hospital. I did not expect to have my perspective permanently altered without my realization.
This summer I went on a vacation to San Antonio, TX. We stayed at an extravagant resort with five restaurants, three pools, four water slides, a spa, a golf course, and just about everything you never needed.
The size of the hotel and its grounds astounded me–you could literally get lost inside the main building alone. The pool area was barely short of a water park, and there were hotel workers in brightly colored uniforms taking food orders. Kids giggled as they splashed each other, parents drank margaritas poolside- the atmosphere was completely relaxed and peaceful. But I have never felt as sickened in my entire life.
All I could think about were the kids in Kingston. The ones who drank water out of the filthy bathroom sink with their non-anti bacterially cleansed hands, who played soccer for hours in the dirt without the relief of air condition afterwards, who probably did not eat more than a meal a day. And here I was, paying $10 for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich while lying in a giant oasis.
I was disgusted at myself for spending that much money to “get away” for a few days when that same amount of money would probably last me about a year in Jamaica. I was saddened by the fact that little boys like Nathan and Raheem- fun loving, rambunctious kids no different at heart from the boys running around the pool- would probably never have the chance to slide down a giant water slide. I was mad that this is what I did to enjoy myself, when the elderly at Mother Teresa’s needed much less to be just as content.
Eight months later, what I experienced in Kingston is still as fresh in my mind as it was days afterwards.
Unfortunately, I cannot say that I have simplified my life as much as I would like to. I am still a spoiled 21 year old in the ever-fortunate United States of America, plagued by the dollar menu at McDonald’s every other day. But I am different.
It is challenging to find a way to give back when tuition, loans and living expenses haunt my bank account. However, I have found that there are many little things I can do, like give the homeless man the money I was going to spend on Felipe’s, or spend some of my extra time volunteering instead of Facebooking.
I cannot change the world, but I can change myself. I would not trade the experience I had in Jamaica or the perspective I got from it for all of the chocolate in the world. Now for all the Jamaican patties in the world… nah, not even that.
Rebecca Connick is a biology senior. She can be reached at
In My Opinion is a weekly column open to any Loyola student. Those interested in contributing can contact
