A Socially Shocked Mainah'

I am a small town girl born and raised on the coast of Maine. My graduating class in high school consisted of 56 students. It is an understatement to say that my niche in high school was NOT, I repeat, NOT culturally diverse.

After High School I enrolled into a Nursing Program at a college 300 miles away from my hometown. As we say here in Maine, it was 'way up the'ah in tha County'. It was perfect and it catered to my outdoorsy lifestyle.

I was excited to start this new chapter. I had new found freedoms, new wilderness to explore and perhaps a tall, broad, and handsome lumberjack waiting there for me? A girl can dream, right? I was prepared for this, I was ready for this, I needed this.

Within days both my roommates had succumbed to homesickness and retreated back to where they came from, YAY! I was living solo in a college dorm suite consisting of two bedrooms, a bathroom, a living room and a kitchenette. My outdoor gear was everywhere; my fishing poles lined my hallway and my tackle boxes made great looking throw pillows on my couch. Best of all I could walk around naked whenever I wanted to. Solo life, I LOVED it.

Soon after my arrival to college, basketball started and I was forced to come out of the woods and down from my comfy suite to socialize with my peers. It was at this time that I realize that the college I chose as an extension of my comfy home environment was a college that recruited internationally for their sports teams.

In no time, I fell in love with my teammates. We were all beautiful and strong women from different walks of life. Some were from New York City, some from the Bronx, others from St. Kitts, Canada and some local gals. We were a team of all different shades, sizes and experiences. This, this was not my culture shock, this was a subtle transition and it was amazing.

My culture shock came a one night when my teammates from St. Kitts and I went to the other dorms on campus, Crocker Hall.

Crocker Hall, nicknamed 'Crock-Roach' for it's age and mildew odor, consisted of communal bathrooms, computer room and one bedroom housing rooms that slept two students each. It was my first time in Crock-Roach and it was there, in the small dorm room of my St. Kitts teammates, that I was shocked, culture shocked.

Leaving me, my teammates went to freshen up. During that time I heard a knock on the door. Thinking that it was just another teammate, as we were all scheduled to meet up, I yelled 'it's open', and kept my nose in the computer with my back to the door.

Within seconds the door erupted open and I was stunned when not one, not two, but eleven, ELEVEN, tall Caribbean men boasted through the threshold. #CultureShock. Never in my life have I EVER been in a social setting where I was a cultural minority. I was dumbfounded. I was overwhelmed. I felt my face flush and my palms got sweaty. I was so uncomfortable. I did smile at those whom I made eye contact with, but to this day I am not convinced that my smile resembled anything less than sheer panic. I was a fish out of the salty, warm, Caribbean water.

I sat in silence for what seemed like hours while the men light heartedly bantered each other in their creole tongue. At least that's what I thought they were doing as I could not understand a single word. My ears were useless so I visually took in my surroundings. The men were well dressed. They wore pressed, button down shirts, faded designer jeans and Oxford leather shoes. They were neatly groomed with manicured hands and the smell of their cologne seemed to be a cross between the salty sea air and rugosa roses. Excuse me for a second as I crawl out from under my rock, but where were the ripped and stained Levi's, work boots, rough callused hands and faint smell of two stroke? Who were these men? They certainly were NOT lumberjacks? I was intrigued by them to say the least.

Eventually one of them noticed my uneasy infatuation with them and headed my way. I was so nervous that I thought I would vomit. He approached me and in a kind and quite voice he spoke and all I heard was gibberish. I could not focus, my ears were ringing and my mind was racing. I finally managed to muster out a ''What? What did you say?''. He smiled and repeated himself.

"Waa-gwaan?". Which again was met by my blank stare.

"GUUURL", he shouted with laughter, "WAA-GWAAN gibberish gibberish stone gibberish friends, gibberish Jamaica gibberish gibberish."

Then from the back of the room a bolstering voice shouted;

"Stone man, gotta slow your tongue! Ya mash up, she cant hear you!"

"Stone?" I said hesitantly. He nodded yes and smirked. " I cannot understand what you are saying."

Grinning from ear to ear, he leaned closer to me.

"Girl", he spoke clearer now but with a heavy Caribbean accent, "Waa-gwaan means what's going on? I go by Stone and these are my friends, we are business students here from Jamaica and have come to the states play soccer. What may I call you?".

I remember finally feeling the blood drain from my cheeks, the butterflies settle in my stomach and I relaxed. I wasn't prepared for that. I wasn't ready for that but I needed that.

To all of you reading now, this may seem like an insignificant encounter, and looking back now, I agree. I was just a girl who met eleven people from the Caribbean, so what? But it shows us how one small situation can start a lifetime of personal growth. In this moment I stopped fearing things unfamiliar to me and I embraced them. It had become clear to me that my small town life left me small minded. What seemed so overwhelming and scary then, is now just a single, laughable, page in my book of life.

I often reflect back to this moment and the friendships that I formed during my tenure at college. These moments humble me and remind me that there is always room for personal growth, acceptance, curiosity and most importantly love. Don't fear change, embrace it.

I conclude my culture shock experience with a thought of my friend Stone and perhaps homemade Jerk Chicken and dumplings will be on the menu at home tonight.