Authors: Alex Wheatle
“Oh Lord!” Carmesha exclaimed. “Wha’ ah cruel tribulation.”
“Yes,” Amy nodded. “But de Most High work inna funny way. Becah dem time, when Kwarhterleg was begging inna de market an’ sleeping ah bush an’ inna de gulley, Joseph an’ meself were jus’ setting up we own place. Becah Joseph work so hard ’pon me papa land, him decide to give de land to we as ah wedding present – me cyan tell yuh dat dis cause nuff fuss from de mon who used to work fe me papa, but dat’s ah nex’ story. Joseph was de only one inna de village who did ah tek time an’ talk to Kwarhterleg, sometime
t’rowing him ah few penny fe ah Red Stripe beer. One day Joseph turn up wid Kwarhterleg all drunk up from fire-water. It was ah harvest night an’ dey jus’ come back from Misser DaCosta party, dat is Welton’s papa. Joseph ask me if Kwarhterleg coulda stay fe de night. Me set up ah sleeping place fe him inna de corner ah de kitchen. Him been wid us ever since.”
“Ah nice story dat,” Carmesha nodded. “It funny. Me mudder use to say all Jamaican mon ah t’ink about is dem fire water!”
Amy laughed. “An’ dem black bamboo stick or dem rod ah correction!”
Carmesha nearly choked with laughter, realising that life would be humorous with the Rodney family.
“So wha’ is ya plan fe de future?” Amy asked.
“Well, me don’t waan go back ah Spanish Town. Der is nutten fe me nuh more down der. If yuh would ’ave me den me would like to stay wid yuh. Me will help out any way me cyan.”
“Nuh fret yaself, Carmesha. Yuh is family now an’ me tek ah mighty liking to me one gran’chile. Him favour David inna big way an’ me see de Maroon inna him. It’s in de eyes. See how dem shiny black?”
“Yes, me notice it de day him was born,” agreed Carmesha. “Me would like to live here wid yuh. De hillside look so pretty.”
Cupping Carmesha’s jaws with her hands, Amy kissed her upon the forehead. “Ya welcome.”
As Carmesha and Amy drained the last drops of their rum coffees, Joseph was climbing the hills above his plot of land. He felt the freshening winds cool his face and wondered why he was reluctant to set foot here before. He was surprised to see that jackfruit trees grew tall here and the ackee was plentiful. Breadfruit grew freely too. Joseph wished he had brought a crocus bag with him so he could take home these fruits and discover if they tasted any different to the fruits that ripened further down in the valley. “Jamaican soil fertile like Miss Coletta wid her t’irteen pickney,” Joseph laughed to himself. “Miss Coletta husband shoulda tek to fishing inna de nighttime. Becah all him affe do is kiss her ’pon de forehead an’ she breed like sex mad mosquito!”
Through a gap in the trees, Joseph saw smoke threading itself through the leaves before disappearing under the greying sky. He walked towards its source. Hunched over his fire, Levi was roasting grunt fish; he didn’t even hear Joseph creeping behind him.
“Afternoon, sa,” Joseph greeted.
Turning around in alarm, Levi wondered how anyone could steal so close to him without detecting a presence. “Joseph! Er, yuh waan some roast fish?”
“Nuh, sa. Me jus’ t’ought dat me should come look fe yuh. Yuh see, me used to wonder why David ah wander inna de mist to dis hillside but of course, me shoulda known. To see yuh.”
“So. Yuh know me here all de while?”
“Yes. Joshua.”
Levi hadn’t been called that name for over sixteen years and the sheer shock of hearing it had drained the gloss from his cheeks.
“Amy used to wonder wha’ happen to Preacher Mon eldest son. She know dat him sen’ yuh ah different school inna Montego Bay. Nobody used to see yuh. An’ den we learn dat yuh gone ah Kingston fe furder study. By dem time everybody forget wha’ yuh look like. But nuh me!”
Levi could do nothing but laugh and when he composed himself, offered Joseph a share of his lunch. Joseph, although not really hungry, finally accepted.
Picking out the tiny bones of his fish, Joseph asked. “So why yuh live up here so, all alone? Wha’ happen wid yuh an’ ya family?”
Pausing, Levi stared into the woods with a hint of a sore memory. “Ah long story dat. Basically, me an’ me papa coulda never agree wid wha’ de Bible say.”
“Oh,” Joseph chuckled. “Sometime me glad dat me cyan’t read ah word. Except me very name. Dat book, me sure, cause nuff fussing an’ fighting dan de writer ever t’ought possible.”
Levi found himself nodding. The two men talked for over an hour, relating to each other’s particular experiences. Indeed, Joseph regretted not seeking out Levi before. As they shared a jackfruit, a sudden gust of wind blew out the fire. Startled, Levi quickly climbed a tree to view the heavens. The grey, cumulus clouds were
moving swiftly and Levi felt spots of rain upon his face. In the distance it was like night had already claimed the day and Levi could hear the faint echo of thunder. He was aware that the equatorial sea had been cooking all summer and now the rising warm air had finally met the dense cold air, the classic ingredients of the seasonal winds, and Levi sensed this was much more foreboding than the usual gales at this time of the year. He leaped down from the tree, a fretful expression upon his face.
“Mighty storm ah come! De branch inna tree already start bend!”
Standing up, Joseph strained his ears. He could hear the rapidly strengthening wind whistling above his head. Birds were flapping here and there and gusts that weaved through the intricate woodland, began to disturb the soil, throwing up dust and twigs. Joseph looked up. “De Most High decide to blow him cruel breat’ today. Levi, yuh cyan’t stay up here so. Dis place too expose. Yuh better come wid me down to Claremont. Mek pace to grab anyt’ing yuh need.”
Not having to be told twice, Levi quickly stuffed his crocus bags with his books and picked up his cutlass. “Ah shame,” Levi laughed. “De first time inna sixteen years dat yuh look fe me an’ mighty storm start brew. Some people would say dat’s ah curse.”
By the time they were running down the exposed hillside, the temperature had plunged dramatically and they were being slammed with horizontal rain; Levi ran past a dead bird that had fallen to the ground after being drowned in mid-flight. Tree trunks were belly-dancing and Levi and Joseph only saw a grey, greenish blur before them. It seemed as if the storm was about to claim the island as Levi and Joseph held up their hands to protect their faces from the sting of cold rain, the snarling wind currents forcing them to crouch and crawl. Joseph just about recognised his plot of land.
“Me mus’ tek out me corn!” he yelled.
Turning around, Levi saw Joseph battling against the wind on his knees, trying to find a digging implement. “JOSEPH! Come, mon. Yuh affe leave it!”
Now covered in mud, Joseph had found his fork and had proceeded digging. A huge blast of wind toppled him over but he
picked up his fork again as if in a trance – utterly determined.
“Joseph!” Levi called.
Slipping and sliding, Levi scrambled over to the farmer. He put his arms around Joseph’s waist. “Yuh cyan’t stay here!”
“Me corn! Me corn!”
Using all his strength, Levi dragged Joseph off his plot. Suddenly, a river of mud swept them downhill next to an arching palm tree. They could hear the felling of trees all around them. The light of the day was rapidly diminishing as lightning streaked across the unforgiving heavens. They tasted saltwater upon their lips and it seemed that the rain had become a huge blanket of water, devouring everything in its path. Echoing booms of thunder battered their ear-drums, shaking the liquifying ground. Joseph, despairingly, held his head within his palms. Levi knew that they had to move fast to lower ground. He grabbed Joseph’s arm and hauled him up on his feet. “COME MON!” Levi had forgotten his cutlass and his books.
They stumbled down to the fruit groves which offered them a brief respite. Joseph tripped over a fallen coconut. Other fruits lay scattered all over the mired earth. Ravines and gulleys were soon filled with galloping rain-water, carrying all before it. The baked earth had turned into a quagmire, making progress arduous. Countless chickens lay dead in newly formed ponds. Goats were circling about on the spot as if madness had struck them. Their survival instincts guiding them, cows made for any tree cover they could find but many perished under fallen branches. The howling and whining of dogs led villagers to believe this was the work of Old Screwface.
An hour later, an exhausted Joseph and Levi stumbled inside the storage room of Joseph’s home covered from scalp to toe with dripping mud. The walls were built of stone. Water had seeped inside, now developing into a widening pool. It was only
mid-afternoon
but blackness reigned outside. Amy, holding the kerosene lamp in her right hand, was not too bothered about the presence of Levi. She closed her eyes in relief, thankful for Joseph’s safe return. Carmesha, Daniel, Hortense and Jenny were huddled
up in one corner. Kwarhterleg, Matthew, Miss Panchita and her child, the next-door neighbours, were gathered in another. Everybody looked up to the ceiling, hearing the natural elements do their worse, praying silently that the sun would rise again. Jenny compared the sound of the wind to some kind of deathly church organ playing in a low key with no distinctive melody. Old Screwface’s music, she concluded. “De Most High vex wid somet’ing,” she said. Trembling, Hortense had her arms tightly around her sister’s neck, her face pressed into her back. “Yes,” Hortense answered. “Him vex wid Preacher Mon an’ de people dat live down ah hillside becah dem put obeah ’pon sweet David an’ mek him dead. Me hope de breat’ of de Most High will toss dem liccle house inna de air an’ put it down inna mighty deep river!”
“Hortense!” Amy rebuked. “Mind ya tongue.”
“Nuh worry yaself, Hortense,” whispered Jenny. “Hold on tight to me. De Most High’s mighty breat’ cyan’t hurt yuh if yuh stay close.
An’ de shanty people get wha’ dem deserve
.” Hortense grinned and tightened her grip.
“Dis is de end! We all gwarn to die! Dis storm worse dan 1907!” Kwarhterleg insisted, his eyes opened wide with panic. “Me live me life but it’s de pickney me ah cry for. Oh Lord protect us! Serious t’ing dis wind!” He started to mumble the Lord’s prayer.
“Kwarhterleg!” Amy scolded. “Stop ya noise an’ stop scaring me pickney!”
Many shanty dwellers, who lived either side of the road through Claremont, could only stand and watch their wooden huts being collected and slammed into trees by the violent gales like a spoilt child throwing away his toys. They held on tight to their young and made their way down to Isaac’s church where they found shelter.
Kingston was almost flattened, suffering thirty foot waves that smashed and breached the harbour front and covered the entire downtown area in three feet of sea-water. Small boats and yachts were reduced to timber scraps and a few cargo ships were damaged beyond repair. Those unlucky enough to have built their homes on the seafront could only watch their property break into pieces and dissolve into the raging, marble-coloured sea. At the apex of the
hurricane, waves were smashing into the harbour every seven seconds. Those who were swept away near the harbour front couldn’t tell whether it was the horizontal rain or a mighty wave that had claimed them. Ghetto dwellers watched their shanty homes being torn asunder and drifting and flying to all parts of Kingston. Many drowned. Scores were killed by cartwheeling, jagged sheets of corrugated zinc, shards of concrete and severed lumps of masonry. Five miles inland, in the hills of St Andrew where the well-heeled dwelled and drank afternoon tea, they woke up the next morning to discover that seaweed and the rubble that had laid upon the ocean bed was now dumped and scattered over their ruined lawns. The North coast fared no better. Many poor fishermen, who lived in barren huts beside the sea-front and who always parked their canoes on the golden beaches, had failed to seek adequate cover. A few of them were sandblasted to death, their nostrils and mouths filling with wet sand, cutting off their supply of oxygen. A state of emergency was declared.
Two mornings later, holding a pitch fork in his right hand and his feet sinking into the soil, Joseph stood still upon his land and surveyed the damage. In the surrounding hills, he could just make out odd figures searching for the timbers that had made up their blown-away house-fronts and walls or perhaps their kitchen roofs. Joseph took out Panama, stuffed it with tobacco and lit it with a match. Following his second toke, tears welled up in his eyes. He looked up to the clear, calm blue sky and muttered, “De poor always bear de harshest brunt. Yuh is ah cruel God.”
Standing beside Joseph, Levi nodded his agreement. “Come, Joseph! We affe try an’ drain away all de water. Come!”
His eyes defeated, Joseph turned to Levi. “Don’t yuh affe look about ya place? Yuh know, fix it up an’ rebuil’ it?”
“Dat cyan wait. Besides, me be lucky if me cyan find one strip ah wood. Me hear dat even Misser DaCosta’s Delco generator find itself being tossed inna de wind.”
“Yes, me hear dat too. One heavy piece of somet’ing dat. Misser DaCosta finally find it inna de gulley. All mosh up. Now de people ah Claremont cyan’t go up to Misser DaCosta plot an’ lissen radio.
Ah shame. Becah even Amy an’ Jenny did ah like to go up der an’ lissen sermon broadcast from Kingston ’pon ah Sunday night. But at least Welton providing shelter fe de poor people who ah live up der… Me pass ah mon today who could nah bear to look ’pon de place where him place once stood. Him family der wid Isaac but dis mon, proud he is, don’t know where to go. Me give him ah liccle money to buy ah Red Stripe. Me cry fe dem kind ah mon. Me cry fe everyt’ing. Massa God tek away me only son an’ now him tek away me land. Me feel like joining dem whole heap ah mon who are travelling to Kingston to look fe work – any kind ah work.”
“Not all ah dem forwarding to Kingston,” said Levi. “Me sight ah few ah dem trekking up ah hillside. Dem say dem gwarn to plant ganga becah dat’s all dem cyan do. Ganga grow quick an’ rapid. Me cyan’t really blame dem.”
“Nuh, sa. Desperate time need desperate measure. Dem affe be careful though, becah de police burn down ah ganga field near ah Orange Valley ah while ago an’ beat an’ mosh up de cultivator dem.”