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Boring St Ann's Bay and the woman in blue
The place that is now known as St Ann's Bay is said to be the first place in Jamaica, then called Xamayca, where Europeans arrived. It was on May 5, 1494, and Christopher Columbus, the Italian explorer and his Spanish crew were the Europeans.
The reception from the local inhabitants, the Tainos, was not as warm as the Caribbean Sea, so Columbus and his men stayed offshore for the night. The following day, they travelled down the coastline and found a spot where they landed, and claimed Jamaica for Spain. Xaymaca was renamed Santiago after St James, the patron saint of Spain.
The Europeans didn't tarry for long, but they were to return nine years later in 1503. By then, their ships were in significant disrepair, and they ran aground coincidentally at St Ann's Bay in the last two. They became stranded for over a year, and this was the beginning of the end of Columbus' voyages to the 'West Indies'. Eventually, with the help of Taino paddlers, they were canoed to Hispaniola, from which they departed to Spain.
St Ann's Bay, then, is the place in which the mosaic that we called the Jamaican people started, though the original inhabitants were subsequently annihilated by the Europeans who returned. So, recently, I decided to take a little walk through this historic hillside town beside the sea, to be where Jamaica's history had a turning point.
I was very disappointed with the state of this ramshackle place. I should have continued to view it from a distance in moving vehicles. Not even the attractive, modern structures that house some well-known fast-food franchises could help, and the sky was slightly overcast, adding to the dreariness. Then came the saviour for the day: historic buildings. Notebook, pen and camera out.
Adjoining the parish church, I saw a cenotaph sandwiched by two cannons. The gate of the enclosure in which they were was padlocked. From there, I couldn't see the inscriptions. So I began to ask passers-by questions.
Nobody around seemed to know. I went into a shop in which I saw a girl and a male Chinese shopkeeper. She didn't know anything about the cenotaph, or about Columbus' arrival in St Ann's Bay. The Chiney man responded frantically, "Poppy, Poppy, poppy", while touching a lapel. I understood what he said, but left to get specifics.
I entered the parish council compound, not far from the shop. Nobody thereon knew. I was told to go to the registry. I did. A receptionist with a pseudo-British accent explained that it was a monument erected in honour of World War veterans. "Poppy, poppy, poppy", remember?
However, she had no other information on the monument, and said that the records that could shed some light were destroyed, and the people who could enlighten me were perhaps dead. I told her I was glad she was alive. She seemed to be the only one in St Ann's Bay who knew anything about the monument. But I give some credit to the Chinese shopkeeper. "Poppy, poppy, poppy" was the hint. Did you get it?
I left feeling like the receptionist was peeved by my remarks. I, too, was perturbed that in a place that has such significance in our history, the ignorance of it is just as significant. Then I found myself on a street, more like a lane, that looks so much like parts of inner-city Kingston, really. Rural decadence in the heart of historical significance.
Up and down hilly St Ann's Bay, I was sweating like a wild hog, as my mother would say. On the flat, I stood taking pictures of a long, steep road bustling with activities. I recall it is named after National Hero Marcus Garvey. As I was looking at the first shot, I realised someone was staring at me. She was a black-skinned elderly woman in jeans pants and a blue blouse.
STARING COMPETITION
The woman was giving me such a bad look that I checked to see whether she was in my pictures. She wasn't. I took another shot, and there she was still looking at me annoyingly. I decided to do what I do when people stare at me. I stared back long and hard. She looked, and looked, and looked. I stared until she took her eyes off me. I gave her another look and went in search of a bottle-neck pear.
Having found a pear, not a bottle-neck one, I went back down the hill to see the old brick warehouses. While I was clicking away, I felt eyes in my back. I stopped and looked around. There she was, the woman in blue! She was sitting under an almond tree, in a yard right across the warehouses. She said to someone, "Mi noh know why him a tek picture a dem yah ol' building."
I took one last picture. No more staring, I decided, and walked away to find a moving vehicle from which to view St Ann's Bay from afar
The place that is now known as St Ann's Bay is said to be the first place in Jamaica, then called Xamayca, where Europeans arrived. It was on May 5, 1494, and Christopher Columbus, the Italian explorer and his Spanish crew were the Europeans.
The reception from the local inhabitants, the Tainos, was not as warm as the Caribbean Sea, so Columbus and his men stayed offshore for the night. The following day, they travelled down the coastline and found a spot where they landed, and claimed Jamaica for Spain. Xaymaca was renamed Santiago after St James, the patron saint of Spain.
The Europeans didn't tarry for long, but they were to return nine years later in 1503. By then, their ships were in significant disrepair, and they ran aground coincidentally at St Ann's Bay in the last two. They became stranded for over a year, and this was the beginning of the end of Columbus' voyages to the 'West Indies'. Eventually, with the help of Taino paddlers, they were canoed to Hispaniola, from which they departed to Spain.
St Ann's Bay, then, is the place in which the mosaic that we called the Jamaican people started, though the original inhabitants were subsequently annihilated by the Europeans who returned. So, recently, I decided to take a little walk through this historic hillside town beside the sea, to be where Jamaica's history had a turning point.
I was very disappointed with the state of this ramshackle place. I should have continued to view it from a distance in moving vehicles. Not even the attractive, modern structures that house some well-known fast-food franchises could help, and the sky was slightly overcast, adding to the dreariness. Then came the saviour for the day: historic buildings. Notebook, pen and camera out.
Adjoining the parish church, I saw a cenotaph sandwiched by two cannons. The gate of the enclosure in which they were was padlocked. From there, I couldn't see the inscriptions. So I began to ask passers-by questions.
Nobody around seemed to know. I went into a shop in which I saw a girl and a male Chinese shopkeeper. She didn't know anything about the cenotaph, or about Columbus' arrival in St Ann's Bay. The Chiney man responded frantically, "Poppy, Poppy, poppy", while touching a lapel. I understood what he said, but left to get specifics.
I entered the parish council compound, not far from the shop. Nobody thereon knew. I was told to go to the registry. I did. A receptionist with a pseudo-British accent explained that it was a monument erected in honour of World War veterans. "Poppy, poppy, poppy", remember?
However, she had no other information on the monument, and said that the records that could shed some light were destroyed, and the people who could enlighten me were perhaps dead. I told her I was glad she was alive. She seemed to be the only one in St Ann's Bay who knew anything about the monument. But I give some credit to the Chinese shopkeeper. "Poppy, poppy, poppy" was the hint. Did you get it?
I left feeling like the receptionist was peeved by my remarks. I, too, was perturbed that in a place that has such significance in our history, the ignorance of it is just as significant. Then I found myself on a street, more like a lane, that looks so much like parts of inner-city Kingston, really. Rural decadence in the heart of historical significance.
Up and down hilly St Ann's Bay, I was sweating like a wild hog, as my mother would say. On the flat, I stood taking pictures of a long, steep road bustling with activities. I recall it is named after National Hero Marcus Garvey. As I was looking at the first shot, I realised someone was staring at me. She was a black-skinned elderly woman in jeans pants and a blue blouse.
STARING COMPETITION
The woman was giving me such a bad look that I checked to see whether she was in my pictures. She wasn't. I took another shot, and there she was still looking at me annoyingly. I decided to do what I do when people stare at me. I stared back long and hard. She looked, and looked, and looked. I stared until she took her eyes off me. I gave her another look and went in search of a bottle-neck pear.
Having found a pear, not a bottle-neck one, I went back down the hill to see the old brick warehouses. While I was clicking away, I felt eyes in my back. I stopped and looked around. There she was, the woman in blue! She was sitting under an almond tree, in a yard right across the warehouses. She said to someone, "Mi noh know why him a tek picture a dem yah ol' building."
I took one last picture. No more staring, I decided, and walked away to find a moving vehicle from which to view St Ann's Bay from afar
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