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Spreading the spirit of rural Jamaica
Published: Monday | March 25, 2013
Robert Lalah
Cooking in rural Jamaica. - File
1 2 >
By Robert Lalah
I spend a lot of time out of town, in communities that operate much differently from those in the Corporate Area. The contrast between rural and urban life really is fascinating. And this goes well beyond tangibles too. It's about the way people live with and treat each other. Sometimes a trip to the country can feel like a journey into a different world.
A couple of weeks ago I visited a place called Contrivance, near Christiana in Manchester. It was about midday and the farmers in the community were gathered in the square sharing stories and making jokes. Two big pots were bubbling on a wood fire and when their contents were ready, everyone ate together. This wasn't a special occasion and not everyone there helped pay for the food. But none of this mattered. It's just how things are done there.
In Lloyds, St Thomas, I've seen children walk over to neighbours' houses unannounced to have lunch with friends of their parents, and in Hope Bay, Portland, I helped a woman carry a sack of ackees to give to her ailing neighbour who returned the favour with a gift of ripe bananas.
A trip to Garlands
Once, when I was visiting Garlands in St. James, I tripped while navigating a hill, twisting my ankle slightly. No more than 20 minutes later, I was sitting on a Miss Mattie's veranda while she attended to me as if I were her own son. I was surrounded by residents of the community, who had come over just to find out how I was doing. I had met none one of these people before that day.
Now, I'm sure these sorts of things happen in the city too. But it's probably the exception these days, rather than the norm. I've wondered what it is that makes people in one section of the island behave so much differently from those in another part. In many rural areas, people know all their neighbours and feel invested in each other's lives. I've heard of people in Kingston who have had neighbours for decades and never met them.
If only the spirit of rural Jamaica could be bottled and spread across the island. Wouldn't that be great? We could have a national distribution effort and have a van drive around and dispense the spirit, the way mosquito fogging is done whenever there's a dengue outbreak. Then we'd have an entire country of people who feel connected with each other, the way they do in rural areas and some smaller islands.
I remember being in Grenada during their carnival week celebrations. When I was walking around St George's, I was struck by the way everyone there seemed to know each other and wanted to talk about the fête of the previous night. In supermarkets, restaurants and out on the roads, I constantly had to walk around people who stopped to have a chat. I once thought of this as a quirk of small-island life. We, of course, don't see ourselves as small-islanders. We're far too sophisticated and important.
Not so different
But you know, we actually aren't that different. Think of the events of the past couple of weeks alone. We had the national high-school track and field championships, and a World Cup qualifier at the national stadium. Wherever you went that's what people wanted to talk about. The foreign press dedicated lots of space to the way the entire country unifies around Champs. They appear mystified by this. And rich, poor, uptown, downtown rally around the Reggae Boyz when it's match time.
When we qualified for the World Cup in France, nobody could escape the national joy. Then there's the way we celebrate medals won and records broken at the Olympics. We also agonise together when there's a natural disaster and complain together when our country is maligned by outsiders. Why, then, don't we feel more connected with those around us? What's creating the distance? We share this space for a short while and then we're gone. It's a unique experience that only those of us privileged enough to call ourselves Jamaican get to have.
It's like a secret we share with everyone we pass on the streets, yet we harbour so much animosity and hatred for each other. If family members share a bond because of similar origins and backgrounds, then the entire Jamaican population is pretty much just a larger incarnation of your family. How then can we be so cold and rob, rape and con each other without remorse? I don't get it.
Do you?
Robert Lalah is assistant editor - features and author of the popular 'Roving with Lalah'. Email feedback to columns@gleanerjm.com and robert.lalah@gleanerjm.com.
Published: Monday | March 25, 2013
Robert Lalah
Cooking in rural Jamaica. - File
1 2 >
By Robert Lalah
I spend a lot of time out of town, in communities that operate much differently from those in the Corporate Area. The contrast between rural and urban life really is fascinating. And this goes well beyond tangibles too. It's about the way people live with and treat each other. Sometimes a trip to the country can feel like a journey into a different world.
A couple of weeks ago I visited a place called Contrivance, near Christiana in Manchester. It was about midday and the farmers in the community were gathered in the square sharing stories and making jokes. Two big pots were bubbling on a wood fire and when their contents were ready, everyone ate together. This wasn't a special occasion and not everyone there helped pay for the food. But none of this mattered. It's just how things are done there.
In Lloyds, St Thomas, I've seen children walk over to neighbours' houses unannounced to have lunch with friends of their parents, and in Hope Bay, Portland, I helped a woman carry a sack of ackees to give to her ailing neighbour who returned the favour with a gift of ripe bananas.
A trip to Garlands
Once, when I was visiting Garlands in St. James, I tripped while navigating a hill, twisting my ankle slightly. No more than 20 minutes later, I was sitting on a Miss Mattie's veranda while she attended to me as if I were her own son. I was surrounded by residents of the community, who had come over just to find out how I was doing. I had met none one of these people before that day.
Now, I'm sure these sorts of things happen in the city too. But it's probably the exception these days, rather than the norm. I've wondered what it is that makes people in one section of the island behave so much differently from those in another part. In many rural areas, people know all their neighbours and feel invested in each other's lives. I've heard of people in Kingston who have had neighbours for decades and never met them.
If only the spirit of rural Jamaica could be bottled and spread across the island. Wouldn't that be great? We could have a national distribution effort and have a van drive around and dispense the spirit, the way mosquito fogging is done whenever there's a dengue outbreak. Then we'd have an entire country of people who feel connected with each other, the way they do in rural areas and some smaller islands.
I remember being in Grenada during their carnival week celebrations. When I was walking around St George's, I was struck by the way everyone there seemed to know each other and wanted to talk about the fête of the previous night. In supermarkets, restaurants and out on the roads, I constantly had to walk around people who stopped to have a chat. I once thought of this as a quirk of small-island life. We, of course, don't see ourselves as small-islanders. We're far too sophisticated and important.
Not so different
But you know, we actually aren't that different. Think of the events of the past couple of weeks alone. We had the national high-school track and field championships, and a World Cup qualifier at the national stadium. Wherever you went that's what people wanted to talk about. The foreign press dedicated lots of space to the way the entire country unifies around Champs. They appear mystified by this. And rich, poor, uptown, downtown rally around the Reggae Boyz when it's match time.
When we qualified for the World Cup in France, nobody could escape the national joy. Then there's the way we celebrate medals won and records broken at the Olympics. We also agonise together when there's a natural disaster and complain together when our country is maligned by outsiders. Why, then, don't we feel more connected with those around us? What's creating the distance? We share this space for a short while and then we're gone. It's a unique experience that only those of us privileged enough to call ourselves Jamaican get to have.
It's like a secret we share with everyone we pass on the streets, yet we harbour so much animosity and hatred for each other. If family members share a bond because of similar origins and backgrounds, then the entire Jamaican population is pretty much just a larger incarnation of your family. How then can we be so cold and rob, rape and con each other without remorse? I don't get it.
Do you?
Robert Lalah is assistant editor - features and author of the popular 'Roving with Lalah'. Email feedback to columns@gleanerjm.com and robert.lalah@gleanerjm.com.