Kington, rock, croc cruise

The local community alarm clock went off again at day break; I tried to get back to sleep, only to be woken again and again by his intermittent crowing. A couple of hours later, I got up and sat on the veranda plotting how I might silence the alarm, when no ideas came to mind, I switched my attention to reading my bible, followed by some exercise and a shower, Jackie called us for breakfast. It was callaloo, tomato, plantain and dumplings; it was like having dinner for breakfast. After breakfast we once again sat waiting for information about the arrangements for the day. Jackie appeared with a large bag and said, “So you ready?”
“Yes” I replied, “and it looks like you’re moving”
“Yes we’re going to Kingston; I’ve got some things to drop off for people and some my clothes.”
“Clothes, what for?” we asked looking bewildered
She replied “Where staying with my sister in Kingston until next week, you didn’t remember.”
“I didn’t know we where staying there, I thought we were just visiting for the day,” I said.
“No” she said “we‘re going to stay by my sister until next Tuesday. I did wonder why you didn’t have any bag.”
So we hastily threw everything in to our bag and brought it out on the veranda. Andy a friend or relation of the family arrived introduced himself and went to see Mrs Lena. About forty five minutes later, we put our bags into his people carrier and after saying our goodbyes we left for Kingston.

Andy gave us a running commentary about the different areas as we drove along. We stopped at Black River to see how much an hour’s cruise on the river would be, the prices were reasonable so we booked to go on the next boat while Andy stayed with the people carrier. On the boat Crécy and Jackie sat near the boat operator and I sat at the front. Just after we’d pulled away from the bank, he introduced himself as Royston the captain of the vessel and said we were going to visit some crocodiles. As we moved along a little further we saw a croc sun bathing on the bank, it looked like moulded plastic, but he assured us it wasn’t, he then took up a cup of water from the river and threw it towards its mouth, the crocs jaws snapped shut, making us all jump. He told us a bit about the crocs and we continued our cruise with everyone on the look out for more crocs. Another 200 metres and there was another one, Royston called him John and threw some pieces of chicken to get his attention saying, “Come, come, come.”
John ate the food and moved closer to the boat, while those who sat on that side of the boat took up fearful positions, one knee on the seat, the other leg straight out, hands inside the boat, resting gingerly on the edge with arms slightly bent in case they needed to launch themselves backwards. Those behind them were standing very close to their seats and peering over the backs and shoulders of the others. Royston told us we had nothing to fear, “there all friendly and because they’re Jamaican, they smoke the best marijuana, so there cool, if we fall in there is “No problem” they will help us to swim back to the bank,” he didn’t help to increase our confidence. A bit further on and we saw three different spices of birds living in the trees, he said, “They need to be careful or they could end up as dinner.” He then told us about the different rooting system of plants and trees that lives alongside the river, he then picked a beautiful and sweet smelling blue flower called lavender blue and passed it around, so everyone could smell of its fragrance. About 350 yards on, someone spotted a croc sun bathing or doing back stoke, Royston pointed out it was dead. We saw a fisherman in the shade of the trees preparing crab and shrimp traps, Royston stopped and showed us a shrimp trap and explained how it worked and then a crab trap complete with crabs. We moved on to the next spot where George the croc lives, the captain called him, saying, “Come, come, come,” as we stood with cameras ready to snap the celebrity. But the waters didn’t stir, so he called again, but still no stir or no answer, as all eyes scanned the river for any movement.
He said, “George must be out shopping or looking for a date.”
We continued our cruise, he pointed out a tree called Rasta-man’s pipes and a tree with a termites nest, which we could post home to a favourite friend or in-law, as we came to a cal-de-sac and waited for another tour boat to leave. Royston said, “Tom and Jerry lives in this part of the river and I will bring one on board the boat for you all to see how friendly they are” several people asked if he was really going to bring one on board,
“Oh yes” he replied.
“You will see they are very friendly, they only attack when they have young or if they smell blood”, he said.
As Royston manoeuvred the boat into position, we saw a small croc. He called to her, saying “Come, come, come,” and throwing pieces of chicken, as Jerry came along side the boat, he opened the side door and crouched down, everyone looked on fearfully, wondering what he was about to do! To our relief he shook the croc’s hand and invited everyone on board to do the same. With the exception of one other person, I took this once in a life time opportunity, I must admit I was nervous, so for extra protection, I leaned over Royston who was crouched on the floor and ran my hand across her hard, knobbly, but flexible back and shook her muscular hand, whist Crécy tried take some pictures. A few minutes later Royston shut the side door and said, “I have some freshly squeezed croc juice for you all to taste, its made from crocs, some fruits and river water.”
He poured the delicious looking juice into cups and we passed them round. Whist this was happening another croc surfaced, Tom I believe, he was bulkier and longer than Jerry.
Royston said “look we might see some action, two crocs in the same location means trouble, unless their mating,”
We all watched as Tom came closer and Jerry moved closer to the rear of the boat. I am glad to say Jerry ducked under the boat and swam away. Royston turned the boat around and headed back to the pier, because of the heat, he turned the air conditioning on. Air conditioning on an open boat with only a canopy is to drive at high speed. As we got off the boat, some of the hawkers tried to sell us souvenirs they had hand-crafted from wood.

We left Black Water and continued on our planned journey to Kingston. In St Elisabeth there is place called Lovers Leap, which Jackie wanted to visit but had never got round to, even though she grew up in JA, so we took a detour.

After parking the car, we made our way to the viewing balcony; which is about 1500 feet above the sea. When Crécy and Jackie stepped out on to the balcony and saw the height and steep fall, they moved to back to the safety of the building. From the balcony you had a good view of the leap, you could also see were people have craved the names on the top on plants and tree stumps that they could reach without failing, to the right you get a clear view of Treasure Island.

It is called Lovers Leap because Jerome a slave and Anita the plantation owner daughter were in love, knowing their secret was about to be discovered, they leapt to their death or so folk-lore says. We went into the main building and looked at some museum pieces related to the plantation, during which we had some drinks from the bar, outside we took some pictures in the grounds and then continued our journey towards Kingston.

Half an hour into our Journey and another stop; this time to see Andy’s sister Mercy. She was house, sitting in a place called Chocolate Valley. She offered us some water melon and stringy mangoes, which we ate on the rear veranda, they were cool and refreshing and threw the skins into the over grown garden as instructed. As we talked, I heard a rustling coming from the garden, as I looked a goat appeared from behind a bush, walking towards the veranda. It was Mercy’s goat and it came looking for food. We gave it the peel of the fruits we had eaten. Mercy went and picked about nine green gauge mangoes from the trees in garden and the goat followed her around the garden. At the front of the house, there were okra and tomato plants, the tomatoes were growing on the ground and because the crop was so large, they were left to rot. We said goodbye to Mercy and continued our journey.

About a ten kilometres out side of Kingston there was a lay-by, full of stone huts (about 15) and they all sold roast yam. As we pulled in and slowed down, the people carrier was suddenly surrounded by three, maybe four men, with roasted yam (in foil) in their hands, waving it in front of us, through the open windows and pleading with us to buy from them, we let Andy take care of negotiations. No sooner had they disappeared and we were approached by women wanting to sell us drinks. We sat in the lay-by and enjoyed the roast yam with some roast salt-fish.

Once we refuelled we continued on our way to Kingston. As we approached the city, some seven hours later, we could see the industrial mist above it, it was also much warmer (33c-36c) and more densely populated than Hopewell. We could see the ghettos and the makeshift homes dotted about as we drove on the outskirts of the city. Within minutes we arrived at Marion and Andre’s home, Jackie’s eldest sister and nephew.

After the introductions, we spoke to Andy about the arrangements for D-day; after which we had a lovely meal and were shown our bedroom with on suite at front of the house.

Jamaican Tastee's (2nd July)

Our first night in Hopewell was very different from a night in Central London, with its sirens, people shouting, the lorries, buses and cars charging and crashing over speed bumps outside our house causing it to shake, in Hopewell there are no streetlamps, so its was extremely dark and quiet, except for the motorbike that spluttered up the road and a local cockerel making himself heard every half an hour from 3:30am onwards, as dawn broke the crickets chirped and birds tweeted, joined the morning chorus. About 7ish we sat on the veranda reading our bibles and watched the morning mist disappear along with the shadow of the house as the sun rose from behind it. It was so peaceful you could hear the odd dog barking and cat meowing that was some half mile away, and occasionally you heard people and children walking along the road; before they came into sight, if they saw you, they were very polite and would say, “Hello, good-morning.”
And we would respond in the same manner.

Our peace was disturbed by the call for breakfast. Crécy made salty tea, because she followed Jackie’s instructions and used the wrong container. Jackie presented us with well done (burnt) toast (which I love) and then proceeded to baptise us with Malta drink, which fell from the fridge. After blaming the world and his wife, she called “Sharrron” in a slightly raised voice, because she was unable to locate the mop, dustpan and broom, according to Jackie, she was the only person who knew where things were or so Jackie believed, I pointed to the items she was looking for whist saying, “you just need to look.”
We laughed and I said, “You’re just like picking on Sharon, because she is your younger sister,”
She replied “no its not true; Sharon should know where everything is” laughing
“Sharrron you hear what the pastor and his wife is saying” she said.

After our breakfast and banter, we showered and sat on veranda, waiting and wondering about Jackie’s plans for today. As we sat there with Miss Lena, Peter, Jackie’s cousin arrived; he was full of life and bantered with Miss Lena.

She responded saying, “If I catch you’re neck, I would squeeze it”
He replied, “Goo waaay, you couldn’t squeeze a good plate of food.”
She laughed saying “you’ll see, I said you will see”

He told us some folklore regarding the names of places in Jamaica. These are direct quotes from him: in St Elizabeth there an area called pepper, because it gets its name from the Spanish word pimento. The Parish of Hanover got its name because; Westmoreland and St James didn’t know what to do with it so they “hand it over”. The boats from Haiti don’t need any engine to come Jamaica, because if you give a good push they will sail straight down into Portland or St Thomas, because it said to be all down hill. St Thomas is said to be the place where you can find the best obeah man. The two bays Runaway and Discovery got there names because, Runaway was where the slaves ran away too and Discovery was where they found. I not sure how true these are, because you may hear a different version depending on who you talk too, you’ll have to make your own mind up, whom or what you believe.

At 1:30pm we walked to Daliston Square, on the way we stopped to say “hello, good afternoon”, to a couple of Jackie’s friends and people who were sitting in the shade of the houses, working on their land or homes or walking to and from town. As we passed some children who were playing in the church grounds, one little boy bemused by us called his friends and said,
“Look one white man and one white woman,” whist pointing and laughing.
I guess we stood out because of our colour and clothes, also we were strangers and they knew it. JA is a place where everyone, knows everyone else, almost anyone living in the district could tell you that Mr or Miss so and so lives there and tell you something of their background, which became apparent to us after a few days because locals would say of us, “they are from England and staying with Sharon.”

A majority of the people are very warm, friendly, welcoming, they speak very softly and slowly, so we had to listen carefully. Life here moves at a leisurely pace, no one seems to be in a hurry, which was just as well, you may sit in a taxi or on a bus for 15 or 20mins while they wait for other passengers, in fact they were the only things that moved at speed once loaded. Which meant if you were walking, you have to be very alert, with no footpaths and the potholes, uneven ground, blind bends, the odd bits of gully, trucks, mini-buses and cars to avoid; you may have to step into roughage, get very close to a wall or wait on someone’s drive until they passed.

At Daliston I felt we had began to taste and experience JA, there were supermarkets, a police station, a post office, hawkers, selling and roasting breadfruit on car wheel rims, fruiterers, sellers of phone cards, cotton, jelly coconuts, taxi drivers were tooting, shouting there destination “Sav, Bethel Town” and number of spaces left (“two fi go”), local people shopping, talking, working or looking for work. Crécy brought some lovely sliced pineapple and gave the man $500 and walked away; he called her back for her change, because it was only $50.

We waited for a while, as Sharon looked for a taxi driver she knew or a car that looked reasonably road worthy. When one arrived, the four of us squeezed in the back, because he already had a passenger in the front. As we drove along he named and pointed out the different churches, as he spoke it became apparent that Devon (the drivers name) was a born again Christian. He spoke about the Lord Jesus Christ with the excitement and passion of a new believer; he was telling that we needed to turn to the Lord, it was the best thing for us; until I told him I was a minister, then he shared with us his testimony,

“I was a bad boy and all I lived for was sex and money, I thought I had to have sex every couple of days or I would die. Other than sex and money the only thing that ever worried me, was where I would go when I died, so I started reading my bible, the bible says there are two places people go when they die, heaven or hell, and I know I didn’t want to go to hell, but I knew it was the place reserved for people like me. As I read on, I discovered that Jesus died so men like me could be forgiven and escape the eternal punishment of hell. Wanting to know more, I started going to church, there I questioned the pastor and elders about what I discovered and they confirmed that is was all true. So I decided to follow the bibles instructions and accept Jesus as my Lord and Saviour, so I turned my back on my old way of life. I haven’t had sex for 8 months and it doesn’t bother me, because I am trusting in God and obeying His word and I never miss Church on Sunday for anything else, its always church first. I know He knows I would love a wife and I am sure He has one for me; I know, she will be Ms Right, because God only gives us the best and what is good for us. You see sir, serving Jesus is the only thing to do, because he will always bless you.”
We (Crécy and I) were encouraged to hear his testimony and promised to pray for him, which we have done and will continue to do.

When he dropped us off in centre of Savanna-La-Mar (Sav), it was at the end of the school shift, the children only attend school for part of the day; the schools have two or three shifts and two or three different coloured uniforms that are related to the shifts. I wasn’t sure who had finished school and who were just starting.

In Sav we did some window shopping and stopped at Tastee’s for lunch. We had patties in coco-bread, with sweet potato pudding and coconut water (a must have). When refreshed, we crossed the road and brought some groceries at the D & Y supermarket, at the checkout young-men packed your shopping with great care and carried it too the car or taxi or in our case to the taxi rank, were we got a route taxi back to Daliston. Route taxis can only run between points A and B as licensed, if they go beyond these points, they run the risk of being stopped by the police and would have to pay a fine, I was told the police take all the money they have on them. All JA taxis are route taxis and most of them have there route written on the side of the car so you know where they were going.

At Daliston, Jackie whizzed around the shops picking up one of two items ordered earlier in the day, while we waited for a taxi back to Hopewell. We spent the rest of the evening watching television and making notes of the days events.

Jamaica Smooth Runnings

We rose early this morning (1st July), because we were too excited about our first trip to Jamaica, just like the parents and children in the Disney ad. It was a trip I had dreamt about, but never quite made for one reason or another, and this was the closest I had ever got to going. With bags, passports, etc, checked and packed, we left for the airport in good time, there were no holdups, so it was just open roads all the way through to the airport car park. We found the APH Car-park with ease and took the coach to the north terminal as planned.

On our arrival at the north terminal we negotiated our way to the Thompson Fly check-in desk. After waiting in line for a few moments, it was our turn to check-in.
“Tickets and passports please” said the voice from behind the desk.
I turned to Crécy and Jackie and said, “Tickets and passports,” interrupting their natter.
I gave the lady my passport and turned to see Crécy franticly searching through her handbag,
Saying, “I am sure I put it in here?” Questioning herself,
“Look again” I said,
She looked and replied, “no its not there”.
My mind was doing summersaults at this point and panic began to set in. As the lady behind the counter sat and watched, commenting occasional “can’t you find it? Have you forgotten it?”
I made a quick search of Crecy’s hand bag, passed it back to her and began searching our luggage, at this point we discussed the possibility going home and returning before the flight, it was now 8:13am and it was 9:30am flight, so that was out of the question, I thought it was all over, the only option was to return home, in the mean time Jackie made a more thorough search than both of us of her handbag and said,
“What is this here?” Showing us an internal pocket,
“Ah that’s it”, said Crécy, “I knew I had put in my bag”.
As she pulled it from her bag you could see the relief on all faces as we realised our holiday was back on, but inside our hearts were still racing.

We collected our boarding passes and made our way though passport control and on to the security screening, as Crécy went though you guessed it, the alarms went off as usual, this is a normal occurrence with her and airport security checks, after removing her belt etc, she was cleared to continue, so I went through into the departure longue and waited for them. A minute or two later I turned to see where they were; only to see they had to go through a second screening system, this time removing their footwear so it could be screened as well, which I some how missed. I was beginning to wonder if we would ever make this trip, but to my surprise the rest of the journey ran smoothly.

On the plane we were given an immigration card to fill out, which had to be presented at Montego Bay Airport (Mo-Bay) for entry into Jamaica (JA). At the airport it became apparent we hadn’t filled them out correctly, so whilst standing in very long queue we completed them. After a short interview or interrogation, depending on your view of their questioning: “How long are you here for? Is this your first visit? Where are you staying? What is the address? Who is responsible for you? She welcomed us to Jamaica and hoped we would enjoy our holiday.” As Crécy and Jackie under went the same interview, a young lad at the next booth who was just 15 was being refused entry because he was travelling alone and had know idea of the address where he’d be staying, or letter with his parents permission. I glad to say we got through with out a hitch.

We exited the airport building into the sweltering heat and sea of people: taxi drivers, red-caps (porters), nationals, visitors, security and police. Our eyes searched for our host, Sharon, Jackie’s sister, who appeared from among the crowd and said, “Hi” and then called our driver from her mobile, whist walking towards the loading bay, we followed dragging our luggage. At the loading bays allsorts of vehicles stopped briefly to collect passengers and their luggage. Our vehicle was an open back pick up truck, so we threw our luggage in the back and the six of us plied into the cab area and headed for Hopewell. I soon discovered the ratchet of the front passenger seat was broken, so I needed to hold on to the dashboard or the front of the seat in order not to crush the person behind me.

As we drove along the road, I was struck by the number of potholes of various sizes and hawkers selling: bottled water, fruit, newspapers, mobile phone chargers, phone cards, etc, in the middle of the road, school children looking very smart in their colourful uniforms, flagging down cars, taxis and buses for a lift home and our driver carefully negotiating all these obstacles. Along the roadside there were wooden shacks - which were shops and some very amusing road signs: Drive, Ride and Walk good, arrive alive don’t drink and drive, speed kills! don’t be in a hurry to enter eternity and want to spend time with your family! slow down. Roy our driver told us the names of different areas we we’re driving through and asked about our visit

An hour or so later we arrived at the MacFarlane Mansion safely, a beautiful house set in the hillside. Jackie gave us a grand tour of the house and introduce us to all the family and afterwards pointed us in the direction of our bedroom, which was about 18 x 24 feet. We relaxed on the veranda for a while, after which Jackie took us to meet the local shopkeeper and purchase some drinks and she took us up to her house to meet one of Jackie’s old school teachers, who was visiting from the States. From there we walked up the hill to meet Jackie’s sister Mamma aka Beryl or Veron, who was having some building work done, on the way we meet a young lady called Gay. Mamma wasn’t in so we returned to the Macfarlane home, un-packed, had dinner and sat on the veranda for the rest of the evening watching the sunset.