Fass & Curious : Making a flex in the country
My people, what a galang?! I just always love to walk down memory lane to country; it’s so refreshing. This weekend was no exception. I was happy to receive the warm welcome from the cool, crispy, fresh breeze in Moneague, St Ann! Bwoy, some things just never change; no matter where you go in Jamaica, the happenings are the same.
The town, like most in the rural areas, has lots of run-down buildings begging for a paint job, but then there’s is always that one or two business people who make it their priority to keep their building looking new. Thank God for those few, giving some life to the town!
It’s something to watch as everyone, young and old, hail and greet each other. The mannerism is just hard to play down! I was no stranger to this as everyone I passed, no matter the time of day, said hello! Even when I didn’t see them, they saw me!
My friend I rallied around was like a lil celebrity or something as the males flock him everywhere we went. The conversations were pretty much replica of each other,
“Wah gwan, dwag?!”
“Mi deh yah, enuh!”
“So wah gwan, left a ting nuh/gimme a five bills or a grand/ come buy a round, nuh!”
Apparently, in Jamaica, once yuh go foreign and cum back nobody cares where you go, what yuh go do or what yuh been through! All dem know is yuh go weh in a bed of roses and yuh come, so yuh fi dash out pon everybody like Santa Claus! SMH!
My best moment was with this lady believed to be mentally ill! No one wanted me to talk with her, but yuh know mi fass, so I walked over to her to get acquainted. Take note, this was after 11p.m. She was sitting on a wall at the side of the road coughing and talking to herself. She was dressed in several layers of clothes. Her head tied with a black cloth. She had a black handbag and a silver purse.
She looked clean, at least from where I was standing. Then again, it was night, so blue could be black, if you get what I mean! While she looked the part, she was far from smelling like it. My God, the woman wreaked with fowl smell. The mixture was like stale pee with frowsy clothes along with at least one-week-old body musk.
I was standing a distant from her and she asked me to buy her a drink. I told her I couldn’t buy her one but she could have my half-bottle of ginger wine I was drinking. She was happy. I was too, because I couldn’t take the scent anymore. She kept brushing imaginary hair out her face, until I realise it was a piece of string hanging down from her tie head. I broke the thread for her.
Is what? Unuh low me! Cho! Scornful dog nyam dutty pudding! Kindness never kill a soul! Walk good till next week!