Christmas in Woodlands District in the Fifties

(It was Really sinting!)
Basil Waine Kong

Growing up in St. Elizabeth is fraught with wonderful memories, especially of Christmas. As I look back, I see manicured lawns,(freshly chopped with a sharp machete or a donkey, horse or even goats). Any of these animals can eat down the grass. I remember gleaming white washed stones about six feet apart lining the walkways right up to the house steps and white washed trunks of trees in the yard. Christmas also coincides with the advent of winter when there is a precipitious drop in daily temperatures from the eighties to the seventies. We call it "Christmas Breeze", which is one step above "Cool Breeze"!

I have traveled the world and no where can make you feel more welcome as rural St. Elizabeth. There is no greetings, huggs and smiles more sublime. I imagine Jamaicans living foreign flock home for Christmas just for that feeling of welcome, familiarity and belongingness from “femi people”. It's nice that these “Been-to” people bring money, presents, music, movies and food to show off what a success they have made of themselves! We can be a loving, jocular, generous but slightly contentious people.

The children were always on stage when I was a child. Not only did we perform regularly in school and church plays under thatched roofs and in our homes, we were always being coached in poetry, singing and dancing by Ms. Mavis Smith for “Festival” that was held in Santa Cruz each year. Whenever relatives and friends visited, we were asked to recite poems, tell a joke, spell words, sing or dance. One of the important jobs that adults joyfully accepted was to encourage and big up the yuths with a heap of praise. Those of us who grew up in the country have great egos because we didn’t know we were poor or we even thought we were bulby (bright). Children were front and center of the community. The adults regularly beat the hell out of us to keep us in line but we felt loved nevertheless. I started working in Mass Claudie’s shop at about ten years old and at our Saturday night dances, the older people enjoyed putting me up on the counter to dance and then give me money. The popular dances back then were: “Back to back, belly to belly”, “Banana, banana, banana” and "Ramadin and Valentine".

Many unfamiliar foods and dry goods came to us by way of vans and visiting relatives and friends. We are a mountain community but we were able to enjoy lobsters, fish and even clams brought to us by vans. We got bread, buns and bullahs from Harry Chen See’s bread truck. When you bought a whole loaf of unsliced hard dough bread, we got a brata of two bullahs. We would watch out for the passing of the truck, run to the roadside to hale the driver, bought the bread (unwrapped) and put it into the bread basket that hung by a hook close to the ceiling. Our usual breakfast was a “hunk of bread with butter”, a boiled egg and hot fresh cow’s milk. I liked my bread with sweet condensed milk! We ate whatever fruits were in season throughout the day from anyone's property. Children had a free run of the place with no concern about property lines.

I am not sure that this is true for all families in Jamaica but for our family, we took food to everyone we visited and also brought food back home from whatever was left over especially at Christmas, funerals and weddings. In other words, we are always bringing and taking food. We don't like anyone to be hungry. If someone is going to America, a roast breadfruit, ache, corn pone and gizadas were in tow. When they returned, packed away in their luggage were hams, canned pears and peaches packed in syrup.

In the weeks leading up to Christmas, every household prepared sorrel with and without rum but with lots of ginger. I loved the beautiful red colour and tart taste. A roast (beef) and fruitcake would also be prepared to serve to all who visited. Aunt Myra’s roast was the best! The fruits (raisins, currants, plums) for the Christmas fruit cake would be soaked in rum and port wine for several months before baking day. I usually couldn’t wait for the cake so I would eat the batter while I helped to rub the ingredients together. Those who really wanted to show off would also have a Christmas ham from 'merica that was sliced as thin as a razor blade and treated like gold. The ham bone was used later for soup. If you greet someone with "Happy Christmas" or "Merry Christmas" before Christmas day, the receiver of the greeting predictably add: "When it comes".

On Christmas Day, we woke up as soon as the first cock crowed. We got dressed and greeted each other with “Happy Christmas” and a smile. While we did not send Christmas cards or exchange presents, on Christmas mornings, the first thing we looked forward to was Granny's egg punch. She put on the milk to scold (heat up), break a dozen eggs and carefully separated the red (yolk) from the white. She handed the bowl with the yolk and brown sugar to Uncle Elton to grind and the whites with a few drops of water to Uncle Ronnie to whip with a fork. When the yolk was nice and creamy and the white was nice and fluffy, she combined them, added hot milk, a Guinness stout and a Red Stripe Beer, nutmeg, vanilla extract, mixed it all up and served it for breakfast. wow! But you must remember to take out the eye (germinal cell) or the punch will taste "raw". After breakfast, we blew off steam by blowing up fire crackers that was answered by the other people in the community. I prided myself on being able to hold the fire crackers in my fingers without getting hurt. Other boys were not so lucky and lost fingers.

Some of the people from Springfield Church walked to the houses of those who were sick and shut in to sing Christmas Carols with them. While the equivalent of Santa Claus is "Father Christmas" in Jamaica, he existed as a concept and I never had the experience of being handed a gift by the old man.

Busha Price (Granny's friend) would be at our house by 8:00 am all dressed up with suit, tie, handkerchief in his breast pocket, felt hat, black and white shoes, his walking stick tipped with brass and always had some small change, maybe a sixpence for the children. After drinking some of Granny's egg punch, he would say: "Ms. Rosie, it mak mi cranium crawl" which I interpreted to be a good thing. We asked if he wasn't going to wipe the egg punch from his fluffy mouth stash. He delighted in telling us that that is his way to save some for later.

After breakfast, Granny would give us our Christmas money and we headed out to the community picnic at Shield’s Pon where vendors sold ice cream and fresco, grater cake, pound cake, jerk pork, fried fish, cane juice, peppermint sticks, and all the treats of Christmas. It was a show when the old soldiers would march with wooden rifles. Herbie Arnold’s rumba band would play all day. I loved the colourful Maypole and the Merry-go-round. Two strong men could turn four swingers. While we never had an elaborate “Jankonoo”, someone would put on a horse head mask and dance around on stilts. The next week, all the Pickney dem built stilts and try to dance around on them like the Jankonoo man.

It was a day when everyone shared what they had and indulged: “Eat, drink and be merry” were the orders of the day. The women and children mostly drank the sorrel and ginger beer, but all the men got drunk and everybody danced. The rule was that all the men had to dance with all the women regardless of age or relationship, so the old people and the smallest pickney would get into the act as well. But mostly, the old people would sit against the wall and watch the young people wind up dem waist. Everyone was in a festive mood and buying waters (rum) and Red Stripe Beer for each other.

While no one ever dressed up like “Father Christmas”, all the children received balloons, fifi that curled up like a snake and other noise makers that amused us for several days. And we didn’t have Christmas trees either; but our houses were decorated with poinsettias that grew wild in our community.

Every Jack man shaved holding a two edge razor blade very gingerly, got their hair cut, their pants creased and their shoes shined. The ladies got their hair done, dressed up in fancy crinoline dresses and were awash with kuss kuss perfume. The girls put coconut oil on their legs and they looked amazing!

The Sunday closest to Christmas, we not only read the wonderful Christmas story but sang all the Christmas Carols at Springfield Moravian Church. As service lasted more than two hours, there was no hurry. My favorite Christmas Carol was “I saw three ships come sailing in” by Ms. Maude. We were also treated to a Christmas play on Sunday night directed by Mrs. Joyce Chang in which I always participated. For atmosphere, we put candles in oranges and lit up the place. The boys also burned each other with the wax. I am surprised that the church never caught fire except that the Grannies were never far away to keep control.

Our festivities did not end with Christmas day as we had a cricket match as well as a horse race with lots of betting on “Boxing Day”(day after Christmas).
Christmas comes but once a year and when it comes, it brings good cheer! Happy Christmas to all! (When it comes)


Note. After all the young people migrated to England in the late fifties and early sixties, there was no more festivities and no more joy in our district! Our community became a community of Grannies raising grand children.
_________________

Dr. Kong! Fabulous article!! I shall forward to friends!
Happy Holidays!
xox
Debra Ehrhardt
_____________

Hi Waine:
I loved this story on the Jamaican Christmas. I know it's your story, but it reads like a story right out of an anthology of Christmas stories by well known authors. Yours is more intriguing and detailed. Many of your descriptions are similar to our experiences. It is so sad that many children today will never experience these simple but oh so memorable joys of Christmas. I do hope that you and Stephanie will have a wonderful, blessed holiday. I hope we can get together at some point over the holidays. Love to you both.
Janet and Julius
_________________
Waine, thanks for sharing this. Sounds like we had similar childhoods across the "Pond".

Tom Vaughn
____________________

Beautifully remembered and written. I'm glad I waited until now to read it instead of rushing through it earlier. I enjoyed it.

Kim R LaRue, RN
_____________________

Our Family Reunion

A Blessed Week with my Wife, Mother, all my children and their families
Basil Waine Kong

If you currently live in England, Canada or the United States and plan to retire back to Jamaica, this may serve as your “planning” guide. Just because you have decided to return to your birthplace, you should be acutely aware of how family obligations become a part of what must be considered. My four children and grandchildren live in Orlando, Florida, Portland, Oregon, Phoenix, Arizona and Atlanta. Weddings, funerals, graduation ceremonies, birthday parties, major holidays like Thanksgiving, Christmas, family reunions and other not to be missed family celebrations, should be anticipated. We schedule additional visits just because my wife and I want to spend quality time with the grand children. However, when life gives you lemons, make lemonade.

My wife and I celebrate our birthdays a week apart in July. It seemed like a good time to invite my 87 year old mother, my Aunt Madge, our four children and five grand children to spend a week together in Montego Bay.

The Columns Villa across from the Half Moon Hotel was absolutely the most ideal property for this initmate celebration. The Columns is a grand structure on five acres of land on a hillside overlooking the blue Caribbean. We saw the rising of the sun as well as bid farewell to it each evening in the midst of red, yellow and blue ribbons in the sky while our oldest granddaughter, Mackenzie and her brother Brooks serenaded us with violin concerts.

A huge bonus was the mango tree beside the swimming pool which delighted each grandchild and their Pop pop to no end as each had a never ending appetite for this sweet fruit from the gods. Like the story of the widow in the Bible whose oil supply increased with each act of kindness to her guests, each day everyone would eat mangoes to their heart’s content and each day I would replenish the basket with the fruit that had fallen during the night. During mango season, many households in Jamaica can turn their cooking pots upside down.

The family members ranged in age from 1 year to 87 years and were 16 strong. The cook at the Columns was feeding a football team every day and my wife swore we were going to eat and drink through an elephant in terms of tonnage.

On the first evening, we celebrated my wife’s birthday with a lovely dinner, cake and Champagne. The next day, we went by chartered bus to Woodlands District in St. Elizabeth where I grew up---my roots. I particularly wanted to show the grand children where I spent my childhood. We walked from house to house visiting people I know, visited the family graves and the Springfield Moravian church, where I worshiped. I particularly wanted the children to meet the children at Springfield All Age School where I attended but school was on summer recess. We barely survived the badly Neglected road from Moco to Woodlands.

Now, one of the purposes of going to “country" was also to buy meat, vegetables and fruits for the week. St. Elizabeth is not known to be the bread basket of Jamaica for nothing. We were offered a variety of fresh fruits and vegetables and because I love carrot juice, I bought 50 pounds and enjoyed them at every meal. Carrot juice with stout and condensed milk is absolutely the best tasting and most nutritious drink in the world.

All of my family made prior visits to Jamaica. However, one of the things we like to do is to visit Dunn’s River Falls and for some of my grandchildren, this represented the first time they could climb on their own. Because of the large crowd, the safe route up the falls was not accessible, so we had to take riskier routes and as a result, had a few cuts and bruises. It was certainly an exciting day at one of Jamaica’s most revered attractions.

We tried to go rafting down the Martha Ray but while the river experience may be wonderful, of all the tourist attractions in Jamaica, I will readily rank this as the worse run and most in-hospitable. We gave up out of frustration and made our way back to the Villa for good food, good libations and a swim by the pool.

The next day, we got passes to the Water Park at the Hilton in Montego Bay. They also have a wonderful beach. The grandchildren enjoyed the inner-tubing and my sons and sons–in-law really enjoyed the pool bar. We all enjoyed snacks at the beach and an afternoon siesta. Just another day in paradise.

The best beach in Jamaica is Doctor’s Cave. It is gorgeous! White sand, palm trees, lovely restaurants and clear blue water. My wife and I love this wonderful beach. We were able to snorkel with our oldest grandchild and there was no end to the wonderful sea life available right on the beach.

During the afternoon of the same day, some of us went to play golf at the Half Moon Course and waved at our family sitting by the pool at the Columns when we passed the fifth hole. They did not bring us lemonade as requested. You cannot get good help these days. As the sun was setting, the children enjoyed running down the fairways, rolling down the hills and just had a marvelous time with the open space at the golf course. Throughout the week, we were busy, busy, busy with conversation, singing, playing dominoes, bid whist, gin rummy and board games. Frolicking in the pool was, however, everyone's favorite thing to do. To the delight of my grand children, I jumped into the pool fully dressed durng the last night's festivities?

The staff at the Columns is headed up by Mrs. Bernard (Ms. B), is a superb cook and we sampled every conceivable Jamaican dish---curry goat and rice, escovitch fish, curried lobster, bamie and fried fish, brown stew chicken. With the complement of staff at the Villa, a very memorable time was had by all; in fact one grand child refused to leave the Villa and wanted to stay with his grandparents. There were so many first memories for all of us to cherish as the weeks and months go by, one grand daughter learned to swim, two found sympathetic and enthusiastic audiences for their nightly violin concerts. We all found love—love for Jamaica, love for each other and love for God and our eternal gratitude for our health, prosperity in challenging times and for providing the opportunity for all of us to spend this quality time together. WE are family and u is half of us!

On our final evening together, in addition to my birthday, Stephanie and I agreed to renew our marriage vows with family and friends as witnesses. With the grand children in tow, we made the wedding arch from Coconut bows and the abundant flowers on the property and a May-Pole for the children to enjoy. A local disk jockey provided the music for six hours of dancing and we rocked the night away. As the Villa is not close to any neighbors, there were no noise issues. Taurus Riley was our favorite artist as I serenaded my wife to “She is a Queen” and she danced for me with Beyonce and told me to “put a ring on it” and indeed I did!

This was my pledge to Stephanie:

"You are so captivating, so breath taking, so glorious, such an independent woman of substance, so passionate and so powerful, and that is just the way I like you. Your eyes, your form, your voice, your spirit, your soul and the life you live profoundly encapsulates the definition of what is beautiful with exciting possibilities and mysteries yet to be explored. You are a lovely queen whose presence delights my soul.

You are tender but also a beautiful determined warrior. And when you fight for us, we win. I stand in awe of you. I am amazed. Like a gorgeous Jamaican sunset, you bring beauty to the world. Your alluring charms invites, inspires, comforts and nourishes with the promise of the Heaven to come. You are a vast wonder to be enjoyed. I accept the invitation that your beauty extends. I want to enter, explore, partake and feast upon it. You are food for my soul.

I want to be worthy of your great love. You inspire me to be a better man and awaken my desire to be your hero.

We are building something grand and I need you desperately. You belong in my arms and on my arm. You will be forever precious to me, desired and wanted as my wife. Our lives are meant to be with each other. There is nothing that inspires me so much as you. Your beauty is so deep; it haunts and pierces me with longing when I am not with you. You are the source of my great joy today. I promise to love, honor and cherish you.

Beyond the blue horizon and the beautiful Jamaican sunset is a brilliant rainbow curling above signifying a great adventure and an even greater love story for us. As I renew my vows and take you again to be my lawful wedded wife, it is time to say good bye to hurt, pain and everything that was ever imperfect between us.

With this new ring, I hereby re-commit myself to be your lawfully wedded husband. I will love you, comfort you, honor and keep you in sickness and in health; forsaking all others and keep only to you from this day forward and for as long as we both shall live.“

Ode to Woodlands District, Jamaica

Here where the sun shines
And cool breeze whines
Through mango trees and weeping willows
Sweet dreams on soft feather pillows
Friends big up each other with "respect", "mawnin" and "irie"
Memories to fill a lifetime diary

Stains on my shirt from star apple and jack fruit
Custard apple, carrot juice and beer from ginger root
Jankonoo, duppy stories and nine night wakes
Breadfruit, bammy and black wedding cakes
Baptism before the cricket match at New Pon
Herbie Arnold playing the guitar with the rhumba band, ya mon!

Here is my boyhood home
Unhampered space and gullies to roam
Gifted me pride and an ounce of courage
A taste for run punch, sorrel and cornmeal porridge
Curry goat, escovitched fish, rice and peas, ackee and cod
Woodlands District, Jamaica, gave me my God!

B. Waine Kong

Sports Day at Springfield All Age School: Saturday, March 29, 1958

My Big Day
B. Waine Kong

The biggest day of the school year when I was a boy was always “sports day”. The entire community would come out to watch the students compete. Mass Claudie McDonald, Mass. Harry Chen See and Mass. Lyn Salmon, the local shop owners contributed the prizes. The vendors selling cakes, sweetie, (candy) coconut drops, grater cake, ice cream, cane and cane juice, jellies and aerated water, patties and jerk pork were ever present and created a festive atmosphere. I especially liked the cakes Miss Hibert made. Each “House” (team) actually built a house with bamboo and coconut leaves and we spared no expense decorating.

The student body was divided into four “Houses”. I belonged to "Punctuality House" and Mrs. Joyce Chang, the wife of the Head Master, Mr. Clifford Chang, was the teacher/advisor. She was a no-nonsense type of person who made liberal use of the strap. When she called on us, we would start rubbing the cow-witch that we carried in our pockets to deaden the sting of that strap. I was elected captain of my house and was responsible for assigning the competitors for each event.

In addition to the sign over the door to the school house that reads: "Aim High and Smile", the other houses were: Politeness, Perseverance and Honesty. How is that for values to build character? The teacher advisers were Mr. Tomlinson, Ms. Nation, and Ms. Mavis Smith, the sweetest, most attentive and most caring teacher we ever had. She was the only teacher who we all loved and obeyed completely without the use of a guava stick or leather strap. I don't recall that she ever even raised her voice.

In addition to the team sports, each house entered two students for the individual events. I recall that on one occasion we were playing volleyball and I got upset that my team members were not being as focused as I wanted them to be, so I yelled at them to “stop playing!” So they all walked off the field. Big joke.

While I did not experience it as such at the time, I must have been an active if not popular student. I read Bible passages at Springfield Moravian church, participated in the school and church plays and talent shows, represented the school reciting poetry at “Festival” and was an officer in the Boy’s Brigade. I was on the Boys Brigade cricket team and still remember the thrill of hitting the one accidental six I ever hit. It is simply amazing that every time I watch cricket, I remember hitting that six and can go through the motions and demonstrate for you how I did it.

1958 was a big year for me. When I showed Mrs. Chang a design I had drawn with crayons, she and the students in her sewing class made the flag just as I designed it. It was a proud moment to see my design flying on the flag pole on sports day as the official flag of the school. I was also the sergeant at arms for the ceremonial marching of the four houses. I would yell as loud as I could: “Punctuality House, March!” “Honesty House, halt!” “Perseverance House, right turn!” “We will now sing “God save our Gracious Queen” and said the prayer. Then it was fun and games.

The events were:
1. Jump rope
2. high jump
3. 100 yards
4. 220 yards
5. 440 years
6. 880 yards
7. potato race
8. egg and spoon race
9. sack race
10. volley ball
11. net ball
12. two legged race
13. relays
14. Tug of war

Winners of each event received a gift (pen, wallet, various balls, handkerchief, hat, pen knife and sometimes even money.) Not only did my house (Punctuality) win, I was crowned the boys champion.

You see, I was determined to beat my rivals (Lynval Coke, Hiram Woodstock, Lloyd Saldiba, Lloyd Biset, Frank Samuels, Blanford Roy Robinson and Sylvester Mair). I was competitive even then. Inspired by the poem I had memorized: “While their companions slept were toiling upward in the night”, a month before sports day, I marked out a track on our property at home with “White wash” and un-noticed by anyone, I practiced every morning and evening. I was ready. It probably helped as well that I ran wearing sneakers (puss) while almost everyone else went barefoot. I won four running events as well as the egg and spoon race as I had hard boiled my egg so it no break when it drop. The last event of the day was the jump rope contest and I was tied with Sylvester who won the high jump and some of the running events. I was the only boy who had enough nerve to enter this traditionally female event, so Eileen Robinson and I represented Punctuality House, won the event and won the day!

I found it strange that in my moment of glory as I was explaining to Granny how my strategy paid off, she though it was selfish of me and that if I was ever going to be a leader, I would have to be less concerned about my own success and focus more on promoting the interests of others. At that point in my life the point was lost on me. My enthusiasm was not to be deterred. It still felt good to win.

Soon after that, a magician came to the school and the charge to see the show was one shilling per person. Granny agreed to take us and my brother and I were all excited about seeing the magic tricks. We lined up behind a woman who was arguing with the door guy, trying to take four excited children with her but only had three shillings. Granny pretended that the woman had dropped two shillings and said: "Miss Beckie, I think you dropped some of your money. The children excitedly picked up the two shilling and were all able to go in. The problem was that having done that, we didn't have enough to see the show ourselves and walked back home disappointed. It was a long time later that I appreciated the experience and the lesson.

Anyway, what ever happened to that shield (plaque) with the names of the sports champions that was conspicuously displayed at Springfield School? If you find it, Erma Campbell and Basil Kong will be engraved on it for 1958.

A Message to My Children on our Heritage

Your Jamaican Heritage: A Message to My Children and All Who Come After
Basil Waine Kong

My Dear Children, a part of me lives in each of you. I hope my life experience enriches your life as well. My belief is that culture, relationships, experience, education and upbringing is like a field with both flowers and weeds growing in the same rich soil. Both are available and our choice to make. While you can chose to water and nourish the weeds and weed the flowers, our challenge is to continuously forsake the weeds and fertilize the flowers. With a nod to our background, if we pursue education, enlightenment and character, your life will be a beautiful bouquet that will enrich the lives of everyone around you. Flowers will not refuse to bloom because of a few inevitable weeds invade your flower bed.

Our culture is our light as well as our mirror. If you fill your life with good things, only good experiences will manifest themselves. I try to seduce and entertain all my senses each day. So, I see great works of art produced by God as a sunset,a rainfall or a rainbow; and man’s great achievements in our architecture, language and innovations; smell the fragrances of flowers, feel the textures of every thing about me including my wife’s embrace, listen to a variety of music and the voices of my children and grandchildren, enjoy interesting food and spirits, and use my sixth sense to wonder, to contemplate, to think deeply about what is possible.

While our family genetics hale from Africa, Europe, China and Japan, because of the name I inherited from my father and some oriental features, the Chinese part of us seems to loom large and well out of proportion to their contribution given that none of us have ever had a meaningful relationship with any Chinese relatives, friends or even acquaintances in my 66 years.

As a background, you need to understand that in Jamaica, a single woman, having given birth to a child is free to assign any surname to her progeny. A woman can pick out the most handsome and successful man in her community, in other words, the “Big Man in Town” and name her son “Little Big man” or “Little man” even if they had never met each other. I heard of a case not too long ago where a woman was impregnated by a plumber who was contracted to do some soldering at the house where she worked as a helper. She neither knew his name of how to get in touch with him so she named her son “Alton Plumber”. Eighty five percent of our children born in Jamaica are born to single women.

My mother’s roots for all intent and purposes go back to Woodlands District in St. Elizabeth which Kingstonians refer to as “bush” or if they were generous called us “country”. During my mother’s time, as well as mine, it was and is still one of the most impoverished places in Jamaica. The roads are virtually impassible. But now, however, there are ten automobiles in our community, everyone has cell phones and some even have Internet access.

We were only 20 miles from the Ocean and I saw the Ocean for the first time when I was about ten years old and actually put my feet in seawater at about 12 years old. Bodies of water is abundant but less than 10% of the population can swim. On these very rare trips to the ocean, my grandmother would give me a bottle to bring back sea water so she could rub it into her arthritic knee. Sea breeze, sea water and sea food were all perceived to have medicinal value. In my mother’s time, there were no paved roads, no running water, sewage, electricity, newspaper, radio or television in Woodlands.

While we had soft feather pillows from the chickens we slaughtered, I slept on a mattress filled with dried banana leaves and hung my three outfits on nails above the bed (one for church, my karkie uniform for school and yard clothes). It was a serious offense if I played in my church clothes.

Although a truck or a car came through our district about every other day, no one in our district owned an automobile. Each time a vehicle came through, all the children would instinctively chase after it like puppies and considered it a treat when we could actually touch it. If it stopped, we would marvel at its instruments and for days after would pretend that we were driving it by sitting on a log, steering a pretend steering wheel and making all the appropriate sounds of a car with our mouths. We were all speed racers.

I marvel at the change in our safety consciousness. Today, our children are locked in child safety seats in highly engineered cars with every safety feature imaginable. When we took trips, we stood up in the open truck with the wind in our faces. If we took off fast, we could jerk backwards and if we stopped too fast, we would crash into each other, particularly the ones in the front. While you may only drink bottled water, we drank water from the same pond where the cows also refreshed themselves.

When I taught each of you to ride a bicycle, You were already riding a tricycle and when I bought a bicycle for you, I put on training wheels and held on to the back of the seat up and down the street until you were experts at it. I think you even wore helmets. When I learned, they put me on the seat and pushed me down a long hill without even telling me how to use the brakes. In one hair raising minute, I could maintain my balance and ride it back up the hill---no big deal. Did I ever tell you how I learned to swim?

Several innovations and improvements occurred while I was a child. My uncle Claudie McDonald and my Aunt Myra brought a radio in 1955 which was powered by a car battery and the antennae was hoisted to the top of a tall tree. We could get three stations, BBC, one from New Orleans and the other, the Jamaican Broadcasting Company (JBC). The entire community would gather round to listen to Cricket matches and celebrate the exploits of famous Jamaican cricketers, Gilchrist, Ramadin and Valentine. Aunt Myra also bought a stove and refrigerator that were both powered with kerosene. During the Manley Administration, electricity was made available in rural areas like ours even though the people in our district were “staunch” Labourites.

And still we rise. Out of these impoverished circumstances, I personally know two physicians, five lawyers, a dozen accountants and a plethora of financially successful people who emerged from these humble beginnings to own businesses. Most of the population were and are still small farmers.

My immediate neighbor, Mr. Garnett(Lloyd) Myrie, is the epitome of this success. He was precocious in his youth and got into a lot of fights regarding his black power rhetoric that earned him the reputation of a “bad boy”. After his stint as a soldier, he founded a security company (MICA Security). As a superb businessman, he now employs a thousand people and has become wealthy as well as generous. While he has offices and homes throughout Jamaica, he never squanders an opportunity to help the people of Woodlands, Donagal, Brighton and Springfield as a PNP man. We have joined forces and fully intend to help raise the standard of living for people who live in these communities. He is the only man I know who is as sentimental about these communities as I am.

I pause to tell you that Jamaicans have a greatly inflated sense of importance and power. I will cite two examples to explain this phenomenon. The story is told of some Jamaican gentlemen who were discussing strategies for the economic development of Jamaica. One proposal that they considered was to declare war on the United States like the “Mouse that Roared” where the United States would destroy the country but would build it back up like they did for Japan. But one of the gentlemen was visibly skeptical about the plan and finally asked, “So what if Jamaica win?”

During World War 11, there was a popular Jamaican calypso song that went like this:
“Someone tell me Hitler bad, te raw raw boom; But mek him come a Jamaica if him bad, ti raw raw boom; We would lick him, kick him, cut him throat, poison the brute and bun him up; Ti rite rite raw raw boom. War O, war O, war in Europe, yes I know.”

Interestingly, this sense of power is not unfounded. If there was a track meet between the best of the United States and the best of Jamaica, undoubtedly, Jamaica would prevail. Planet earth is 14 billion years old; about seventy billion people have lived here. Jamaica has the fastest man (Usain Bolt) who has ever lived as well as the second fastest (Asafa Powell) that ever lived. The three fastest women on earth are Jamaicans and Jamaica, with less than 3 million people, came in second in the World Games in Berlin in 2009 and won more medals at the Olympic Games than the entire South America and India put together (2.5 billion). The most popular musician (Bob Marley) and Jamaica’s influence on western music is legendary. Jamaica is a brand. If you put the names of countries on tee shirts and sold them to the world, the Jamaican shirts would sell out first. Jamaica has style.

My mother (Violet Ursula McKenzie), was the fifth of fourteen children born to the union of William McKenzie and Rosella McFarlane, both half African and half Scottish. St. Elizabeth is well known for the Scottish influence as they owned the fertile plantations for which that part of the country is famous. St. Elizabeth continues to be the breadbasket of Jamaica. In the old days, I am told that successful Jamaican gentlemen would aspire to marry a pretty woman from St. Elizabeth. My mother was such a beauty.

1923, at the tender age of 15, my mother was sent off by her mother to live with her older sister Myrtle, who lived on ”Love Lane” to find work in “Town”. Kingston was practically the only place where one could find a job at that time as everyone in rural Jamaica were small cultivators (beef, chickens, pigs, cabbage, peas and beans, carrots, sugar cane, fruits or worked on sugar/rum plantations). My mother’s obligation was to find work and send money back to country. She walked into Chan Kong’s ice cream parlor on Water Lane and asked for a job and was hired on the spot.

Do you ever wonder why you can get “Chinese Food” in any city of the entire world? According to Mr. Clarence Kong, who was a friend of my father, my father and his brother Victor and their families came to Jamaica after the invasion of China by the Japanese about 1938. The Kongs, meaning “Large River”, comes from Southern China, the Hakka people or Han Chinese. They were the gypsies of China who moved frequently to get away from trouble (famine and invading armies) or to find economic opportunity. The first Chinese came to Jamaica in 1854 just after slavery was abolished in 1834, 30 years before President Lincoln abolished slavery in the United States. It is worthy of note that, Queen Victoria purchased all the slaves in Jamaica at prevailing prices and set them free whereas the abolition of slavery in the United States was by proclamation. The consequence of this is that American slave owners resented the “taking” of their property and continued to think that they still owned Black people.

When Jamaican slaves were freed, they went to the most remote areas of the island to guarantee that they would never be enslaved again. So, part of what has contributed to the poverty of the descendants of slaves is that they continue to occupy property that did not appreciate in value like ocean front or flat fertile property. They went to the hills where they could see soldiers coming. In fact, they preferred if there were no easy access to where they lived. When some of them tried to negotiate for a living wage, the white plantation owners balked and brought in Indians (Coolies), Syrians, Jews and Chinese workers who provided cheap labor for five years of indentured servitude after which they were to be given passage back home with their savings. Some Chinese were forcibly taken from China and put on boats bound for the new world so this practice was memorialized as being “Shanghaied”.

Not many Chinese went back to China having tasted the “good life” in Jamaica but established themselves as “Shop-keepers” and commercial traders. They were, nevertheless strangers in an ocean of black people who teased them for eating dogs (China nam dog) and for wearing “oil skin” (silk).

My Aunt Myra was the sixth child of my grandparents who was married to Mass Claudie, the Big Man in Woodlands. They had four children (Monica, Melvis, Carlen and Donovan). Mass Claudie also fathered Las, Presley and Delroy. My brother Earl and I usually made up the group known as “the Pickney dem”.

Our Sunday routine was very predictable. We would wake up as soon as the Roosters crowed, wash up, have tea and bread and on special occasions, “a hunk of cornpone”. This was a wonderful type of corn based pudding made with condensed milk with plenty of raisins (currants) and pieces of coconut. It was baked in a Dutch Pot (from Holland) with hot coals on top as well as on the bottom. “What is hell on top, hell on the bottom and hallelujah in the middle?”

It is also worthy of note that all hot drink in Jamaica is called "tea". So you can have coffee tea, coco tea and even fish tea (soup). Unlike the United States, we have no set menu for breakfast. We are known for having dinner for breakfast. Stephanie and I were invited to breakfast and our neighbors served vegetable soup. She had to beg for coffee.

By 8:30 am on Sundays, we would be off to Sunday school that started at 9:30 am. Church started at 11:00 and ended at 1:00 pm. Granny not only had her special bench that no one else would dare occupy and would always had paradise plums, bust-mi-jaw and mints to keep us awake during boring sermons. We never missed church in all my childhood. Going to church was automatic.

We would eat the same thing for dinner every Sunday: Brown stew chicken, rice and peas. Menus in Jamaica are pretty well set for the week. On Fridays, butcher day, we would eat organ meats. Saturday is soup day, etc.

After Sunday dinner, Granny, my brother Earl and I would walk about a quarter mile to Uncle Claudie and Aunt Myra’s Big House. By the time we would arrive, if "Iceman" had ice, she would have the ice cream bucket all set for the boys to turn. For an hour, the boys would turn that bucket with rock salt and pieces of ice. Aunt Myra specialized in two flavors: run raisin and grape nut. The ice cream was ready when it just could not be turned any more. Everyone would gather around as Aunt Myra would unhook the latches, take off the turning contraption and take the cover from the aluminium cylinder to expose the creamy goodness. The palette was awarded to the boy who worked the hardest turning the bucket and it was usually me. Oh what a joy that was to lick the palette clean to the envy of all the other Pickney dem. Granny was served first and she loved ice cream. So, she got a large serving.

Some Sundays, instead of ice cream, Uncle Claudie would make cane juice or coconut water and coconut jelly with a sprinkling of sugar. Other treats included carrot juice and sweet milk, sour sop juice and sweet milk, and my favorite custard apple and sweet milk.

Sweetened condensed milk would make everything taste good. In fact, if no one was looking, we would just turn the condensed milk upside down and drink it directly from the can. We could mix it with water and put it into whatever tea we were drinking. I don’t think we actually put it in fish tea but we slobbered it over cakes, breads, and buns.

The other versatile food item is salt fish. I believe I heard that Jamaica is the number one consumer of salt cod. It goes well by itself, as a fritter, with eggs, with ackee, callaloo and boiled into yams, potatoes, dashine, coco, bananas to flavor these ground items.

When I was growing up, Woodlands was a thriving community of 500 people ---all farm hands and laborers. We had a cricket team lead by Captain Mills that competed with other communities, Saturday night dances with Herbie Arnold’s rhumba band and weekly shows where the children of the community would show off their talent (telling jokes, reciting poems, singing songs, reciting Bible passages, telling Big Boy stories and riddles). The audience always thought it was novel to have these two half Chinese Pickney reciting poems and dancing. We even told Mutt and Jeff jokes that we got from reading comic books. No one knew that we were poor because no one went hungry, we always had fruits, vegetables and the meals were excellent. Very little meat was served.

My fondest memory was that we all brought something to school for lunch---a coco, dashine, a piece of yam, green bananas, and those who did not bring ground provisions would contribute a little money (Thur-pence) that would buy a piece of chicken, pork or beef. The cook would throw it all into a big community pot and make a stew. We would all be served from the pot and a very small piece of meat would be placed on top of the food that we called the soldier man. The same Big pot would be used reduce cane juice to wet sugar that was a great treat especially when mixed with ginger. Unfortunately, an antique dealer came to Woodlands in 2008 to buy "the old things" and someone sold them the "Big Pot". Our legacy will be lost little by little.

When anyone from Woodlands had to go to Kingston, they would usually have to walk to Mocho to catch a bus or go to Ipswitch to catch a train. As no one had a clock or a watch, we depended on the sun a great deal. It was not unusual to arrive at Mocho to meet the bus and find out that we were two hours early. But never mind, time is not important. After all, we were just Country Bumpkins. One of the wonderful songs about people like to tease us about was the gentleman who went to help build the Panama Canal in Colon. With his great wealth, he bought six watches and wore all of them on both arms. The problem was that he could not tell time. So, if you asked him for the time, he would still have to look upon the sun.

Some of the interesting things about how we speak is that any part of the body below the pelvic region is your "foot" and any part of your limbs below the shoulders is your "hand". We love to repeat words for emphasis. "Rock stone", "cry eye water", "mad crazy", "reverse back", "rain shower" and "lamb meat". We do not have very in our language. So, we just repeat the word as many times to emphasize how serious we are. I can be sick or I can be sick, sick, sick, sick. If someone in Jamaica ask you for a "drive", we are not asking to drive your car just to get a ride. While Americans emphasize results, Jamaicans reward effort. Instead of "get dressed", we say "put on your clothes". In the United States, we wash coffee beans before we put them out t dry. In Jamaica, "we swim them." Farmers are planters. A rest stop is a "lay by" and a speed bump is a "sleeping policeman". A bright student is "bulby" as in a bright light bulb. If you want the driver to go faster, you would say "speed up" and Jamaicans say "mash (the gas pedal) e flat" putting the emphasis on the action rather than the desired outcome. You do not hang out clothes to dry, you put them out to sun. It is no big deal for the son from a wealthy family to succeed but we celebrate Horatio Alger stories of a phoenix rising from the ashes. We value remarkable effort regardless of the outcome. A Jamaican will not say "I don't know" or "I cannot do something". He or she will at least tell you something else that he knows. "I cannot tell you how to get to Woodlands but if you wanted to go to New Market..." And we will try to do anything as nothing defeats failure like a try.

The point is that I believe I have had a rich and extremely happy life. I have traveled extensively and enjoyed a variety of experiences that I could not have imagined as a child. I can, however, find the seeds of my personality as well as my discontent in Woodlands. Wherever I may roam, my affections hearkens back to this very small corner of the world that nurtured me.

I heard a Jamaican writer (Tony Winkler)from Atlanta tell the story of a gentleman who left Jamaica when he was fifteen years old and had gone on to receive a wonderful education and accumulated great wealth. He was explaining to the writer that even though he was born in Jamaica, he had no wish to ever return. In fact, he said, he hated the place. It is dirty. Jamaicans are slack, have no respect for human life, too much poverty, extremely reckless drivers,high illiteracy and illigitimacy and on and on. As the writer patiently listened, the plane suddenly jerked and dropped a hundred feet to which the hater exclaimed: “Rass”. You will never get the Jamaican out of me or you. It is in your blood.