My friends

I spent all of my twenties working as a clerk in a public hospital in Jamaica. There were patients and staff that rated from AAA+ to the downright rude and ill mannered. Over the years there were some patients that got to know some of us the workers very well. We also got to know some patients very well.
On reflection I think that the nicest set of patients visiting the hospital were those that were mentally challenged. These patients  most times endeavored to be on their best behavior and were very proper and pleasant, at least most times.

One day I was walking on the hospital compound with a female friend that I was trying very hard to impress when we were blocked by a mentally challenged female that  we both knew. She proceeded to question me by asking "Where is it that I know you from?"
"No, you do not know me," I responded.
"Yes I know you from somewhere," she insisted.
"No, you do not know me," I said
Then she blurted out "Yes, now I remember. You were my friend when both of us were patients at Bellevue Hospital."
(Bellevue Hospital is the institution that houses and treats the mentally challenged).
It is needless to say my female friend really cracked up when she said that.

On another day I was in the town square when I was effectively cornered by a mentally challenged man. He was a patient of the hospital and that was how we knew each other.
"Give me a money" loudly he demanded.
"I do not have any money" I calmly and truthfully responded.
"Hey boy leave the man alone," a passer by shouted at the mentally challenged man.
"Go away, can't you see that I am talking to my friend," the mentally man shouted back at the passer by.
Turning back to me again he demanded "Give me a money".
"I do not have any money," again I responded.
"Okay then," the mentally man said.
 Both my hands were occupied and before I had any idea of what he was about to do he dropped a coin in my shirt pocket and sped off.
(From time to time I remember this incident and wonder which of us was really mentally challenged).

Late teen years and into my twenties

My parents were farmers. This involved most times rearing animals and planting crops on the hillside. This was tough work but I did not grow up seeing my parents having any employer.
There was one thing that we had in abundance that was fresh  food being on the table. In terms of fresh food I mean sometimes the pot was already boiling when my mother would go outside to dig the food from the ground or harvest what she desired.
My father never kept a pot out in the fields and sometimes on rare occasion he may make a small fire to roast some food.
My real exciting memory however is cooking out in the fields. Coconut oil was then sold in five gallon tins and an empty coconut oil tin was the pot. All that was need was water and salt. These could be had for free from any household that was near. The food is dug from the ground or reaped and there was always an abundance. Meat was an added luxury that no one fussed over.
We did not need plates out in the fields. Banana and coco leaves were placed on the ground and this was the table. When these were not available there was always a sweet wood tree some where nearby. all that was needed was to ensure that no dirt got onto the food.
The hands were always dirty so the fingers could not be used but a sharpened piece of stick does the same job as a fork. The greatest and most enjoyable drink ever made is water with sugar added and lime or sour oranges. When served with ice on a hot day out in the fields I am still to find any drink to compare to this.
It would be amiss not to mention roasted breadfruit and avocado pears.
The greatest joy being that anyone that was close by was always free to partake.

A rare treasure

A rare treasure that what my father was to us as a family. It is easy to ask now that you are grown did you appreciate your father. The answer is no. We did not recognize and appreciate what we had then. It was when I was an adult and teaching Sunday school that I began to realize that I could not connect with many of my students experiences because where they had no father to speak about I had one that was with whom I was having an excellent relationship.
Even now I find that growing up with a father was a privilege that I enjoyed. Recently I sat in a session and listened to a lecture on how children should be taught to handle money. It is a good thing that my father is now dead for it would have driven him mad if he was taught to grow his children in such a way. My father regarded his children as his responsibility and they were his pride and joy so he took joy in making provision for us.
presently I still find I cannot connect when some persons describe the relationship that they had with their father or talk about not having a father. I try to explain that my situation was of such that the last cup of coffee that my father had before he died I was the one who made it. I rode in the ambulance that took him to the hospital from which he never returned.
Growing up I thought that other children had better fathers. As an adult I can look back on the many men that I have personally known and now I can compare and realize that not one match up to my father. I compare my brothers and myself to him and we too fall short. He was a rare treasure.
After my father died I thought how I could pay tribute to him and I wrote two poems in tribute to him I will share the first verse from each.

 A Tribute to my Father

Dead who?

How can that be true?

Children grandchildren, great-grand children and more

They all came from you

All inherited something from you

And will pass it on to their children too

 

   MY Father

I did realize how great a father I had

Neither did I know what made a father a real dad

Sacrificing opportunity for personal advancement

Just to be there for his wife and children

 

It was he who ensured we went to school

Bought our books and attended P.T.A.  Meetings

He ensured we read a lot and did our home work

Keeping us busy because he never believed in idle hands

 

He always affirmed our success

And gloated when we did well

Second best was never for him good enough

 And woe betide the one of us that failed

 

 

(both poems have been copyrighted and the full text appear in my book Ready to Rumble available in Amazon stores, kindle direct publishers and create space ebooks. 

 

 

The reality for me is that I was born and grown in Mandeville, Jamaica and whether good or bad I am proud of the place. That is where I grew and my life was shaped. In my book Ready to Rumble  I devoted the first section to poems I had written about Jamaica  but I thought I should take things a little further and be more specific about my home town. I stand to be corrected but I have not heard songs sung about Mandeville or heard poems written about Mandeville so in my next book Set to Rumble I have devoted a section to my home town Mandeville. I have other ideas that in the process of being worked on. I would hate for anyone to capitalize on these ideas before they are completed.
Should you like a slice of  life in rural Jamaica may I recommend my book For love of him which is available through Amazon books stores or Kindle stores.
I shall continue to record my memories of Jamaica and already I am looking forward with excitement to writing my next book of short stories in which I shall include my Jamaican memories.

Cool, cool Mandeville On top of the May Day mountains in Jamaica Sit a city so bright and fair Whose citizen saw fit to embrace English traditions So you may just be served tea in the afternoon And should you visit its center there is the village green And a church tower displayed ever so prominent Also a shed where you can sit and have a friendly chat Welcome to the town of cool, cool Mandeville   On the very peak of the mountain sit the court house While nearby across the street is the police station Please do not ignore the famous Mandeville market There you can buy fresh ground produce, fruits, vegetables, meats and more Should you decide to shop there are Grove Court and Super Plus centers Visit Johnson’s pharmacy if not feeling well Supermarkets and bakeries also abound This is the spirit cool, cool Mandeville   You must ascend to reach this mountain city Whether from Alligator Pond, Santa Cruz, Christiana or Porus Do take time to enjoy the beauty of your surrounding There are hills and valleys and maybe a stream running parallel to the road Do say hello for greeting and being polite is the norm And if you care sit in a bar sip a bottle or beer or a drink of white rum These are the happiest people in Jamaica This is the town of cool, cool Mandeville   Should you so desire there are international fast food restaurant chains But do not neglect the locals ones they are just as good Do try the street side jerk chicken and pork Declared to be among the best anywhere on planet earth Have some make you a fresh fruit or vegetable drink A tot of white rum makes a lot of difference But don’t be like Hardy’s “Mayor of Casterbridge” Remember you are in cool, cool Mandeville   Take a thought for Mandeville’s citizens are very religious And have strong faith in the power of Almighty God He is the very source and reason for their existence And they are proud to declare their reliance on Jesus Christ  On a Sunday morning you will hear church bells ringing Take the time to attend a traditional or evangelical service There are the Anglicans, Methodist, United and Baptist Never forget to give thanks when you are in coo, cool Mandeville