Country Girl to the bone…

 I am a country girl born and bred! When you see I driving up the Western or Eastern side to go up  North, to visit family and friends, I does get this real nice nice feeling that is a different kind of  feeling.

I used to mostly go up the western side more, and I used to enjoy that route too, especially from  the time I hit Gouyave. But now that I am on the South eastern side, so I take the Eastern route.  And from the time I reach La Tante – all them fellas liming by the road, corn roasting, big pot on  the fire, a bunch a fellas – only fellas eh, because I swear I never see a woman amongst them yet- deep  in some debate. People passing, bunch a grass on their head, cutlass (machete) in hand, children by the  roadside, bare-feet-some naked as they born-hanging on to dress tails, hands of bigger brother or  sister or running behind to keep up. Some going and tie out their goats. Amd it have some very special individuals walking alone, in tatty clothes with holes in the bambam, hair knot-up, knot-up- cause it en see comb for years-talking to theyself, laughing away as if somebody give them the best joke ever! That does just bring out me smile. And that smile does lime on me face all when I reach Hope Village.

And that’s where you find the woman and the children, in the river. There is still some hope in the world, I say. Half or completely naked children, catching crayfish or splashing about in the shallow waters, if not helping their mothers, aunties or sisters with the washing. The women, plaits under head ties, combs stuck in hair, bent over river stone washing- scrubbing, rubbing, rinsing, ringing and piling them nice clean clothes in basins. Some does spread them out to dry right there on the big river stones. Then they would fold them, bundle them on a sheet, tie up the bundle and carry them home-expertly balancing them on their heads, with, perhaps a bucket of wet clothes in one hand and holding a child or two, in the next one. Boy, I does feel I could fit in right there with them.

And I like all them lean-to shacks in the yard, with a big stone under a tamarind or mango tree, where people does cook up a pot or just sit down in the shade to ole talk. And all them little jupas they does pelt up all about the place. One day you pass, four Glory Cedar posts stand up square square. Next day, a piece of galvanize sit down on them posts. Then they fling up a branka (counter come table top) with a piece of ply and two nails. Stick up two shelves, put a few packs of cigarettes, a few tins of sardines, condensed milk, corned beef, two pack of Crix and call them shop!

And all the way up to Marqui, I used to enjoy the scenery, the images of country life, how the cooling sea breeze does kind of nudge me, reminding me I am entering big Parish and how it does feel on my skin and that fresh, salty smell of seaweed fill up my air box (lungs). Well I did say I used to, because these days when I reach Marqui area, I have to hold on real tight to my breath, before that shocking stink from all the sea weed invading the coast, suck it right out of me and knock me down! The wonders of nature – so awesome, yet can be so destructive!

I arrive in La Baye (Grenville), and the place busy and lively as always. Market vendors haggling, people shopping, children hanging about in front shop doors, waiting for their mothers. And La Baye girls dress up dress up. They always dress up like something special happening. Bus drivers chatting up them girls or debating some current affairs, while their conductors hustling passengers!

And all the time I driving, trying to soaking in a little piece of that authentic, West Indian culture and the way things used to be, but still is for “The common people who never saw the telephones, disposable panties and imported eggs, live as they always had,” as Isabel Allende writes in her novel Eva Luna – I had to contend with bus drives driving up me backside, trying to push me out the road. And I just there, taking me time, driving with due care and attention, me smile still liming on me face, and I still feeling that nice nice feeling eh, but these damn bus drivers trying to make me look like I can’t drive! Well this brings to mind a saying used when I was growing up, that goes like this “if dey send all you for me, go back and tell dem all you en see me eh.” Because just so they come and kill me good vibes. Hm!

PS. I am currently reading a manual on Simple Blogging. It teaches about Focus – (in the middle of writing this a phone call send me rummaging through my daughter’s wardrobe and making a trip I had no intention of making today. Life happens! It teaches about the purpose of this blogging thing. Now it has me questioning myself. Why I do this blogging thing. About the purpose of the pieces I write. What is the purpose of this piece? Well I love writing about everyday people and their experiences, life that is happening around me. And I like sharing these stories with like minded people. So I will keep sharing. It also teaches about consistency and the routine thing. Now I always have a problem with them things eh! But I will keep sharing. I hope you keep reading. Feel free to share them too.