I arrived in Montego Bay, Jamaica on Thursday, July 31st, the official start date of the "Trelawny Homecoming 2003" activities. Suffice it to say, I was quite excited about the prospects especially since I had last visited Jamaica in November 1999. As to be expected, clearing customs was brutal amidst my protests of "having nothing to declare" and two young toddlers in tow, not to mention the insufferable heat that greeted me. Not to be deterred however, and after paying the custom fee for a not-so-well hidden car stereo, I was on my way "home" to Falmouth, Trelawny.
It took me about a minute to acclimate myself to maneuvering the roads to Falmouth, driving on the other side and all that, but like I said, it was just a minute. Falmouth...alas! Being that I left New York late evening, by the time I arrived home it was pretty late and I was tired. The opening of the "Emancipation Village" was going to have to pass me by. After unpacking, settling down and all that, I retired for the evening.
Next morning, Friday, August 1, 2003; this was the day of the "Old Hits Party" at Roi’s Villa. I was excited for this was one of the HAT events. I had still not gotten in touch with my fellow cohorts from HAT, but I wasn’t worried, they would be easily found (or so I thought). I decided to drive to Roi’s Villa to try and find them for surely they would be there setting up for the evening’s event. On my way there, I passed, uneventfully, through a police "stop and search" and was pleased to see a sign advertising the "Old Hits Dance." Cool!
I got to Roi’s Villa, but seeing no sign of life, I turned around. On my way back into Falmouth, I was stopped by the police. As I slowed down, I noticed one of the police mouthed to the other, "a waan ooman!" I rolled down my window, and was interrogated about matters that I am sure did not relate to the usual stop and search (which I won’t get into, only to say that it would appear that the Falmouth police now offers "personal" service to the residents) and sent on my merry way. Sometime later that evening, I was contacted by one of my cohorts with regards to the night’s events. Finally.
I arrived at Roi's Villa for the Old Hits Party around 9:00 p.m., or so. Immediately, I was accosted by another member to drive back to Falmouth run errands and pick up a much needed potassium-filled supplement for our fearless leader. Little did I know that being "chauffeur" was to be my monumental task for the week ahead. Back to Falmouth we went, completed our tasks and it was then on to find "something with potassium," which proved to be easier than it sounded. We were on our way to the party at last.
Prior to the events, I was approached about the possibility of serving as a bartender for this event. While I was excited at the prospect, it didn’t materialize, but I managed to secure a more glamorous job - as far away from the party as you could probably get - that of manning the gate alongside our most diligent webmaster. Now, you’re probably thinking that being remanded to the gate for most of the night was probably not much fun, but it was. I mean, besides being devoured by the mosquitoes that seem hell bent on punishing me for staying away from the island for so long, I got to meet and greet folks as they came and went. A point worth noting - one which I am still trying to figure out how it was orchestrated - Bull-Bull was the last to arrive. Seriously, I honestly don’t remember anyone else showing up after he did; now how is that for entrance. How did you manage that sir?
From my observation, after vacating my post at the gate (I mean, what was the point after this, Bull-Bull had arrived) the party was in full swing. The dance floor was crowded, the bar area was crowded, crowds of people mulling around just enjoying a wonderful night. It was great. People really seemed to be enjoying themselves. Merritone/Sly Slick & Wicked Disco had the crowd mesmerized. We were all having a ball. Needless to say, the night went off without incident and was deemed a success.
Of course, my cohorts and I are never one to leave a party before it ends so after the cleanup we proceeded to help the food vendors "clean up" by consuming the "leftovers." Just try to imagine the scene as it was: it’s about 4 o’clock in the morning and we are all gathered under a tent consuming jerk chicken, roast breadfruit, jerk pork, festival, mannish water, and whatever else was there for the taking. Of course, Bull-Bull, ever cognizant of his dog’s needs, collected whatever we left over for him - which I must admit was sparse indeed as we were not giving up much. A perfect end to a wonderful night I must say.
I woke up quite early Saturday morning, not by choice but rather because my toddlers determined what time I woke up. It didn’t matter much though for sleep, I discovered was simply a highly overrated concept; I mean, who really needs sleep when you only have a week in Jamaica. Besides, there was the day’s event, "Village Sports Day at Elletson Wakeland Park". I got the kids ready and all dolled up in their football gear and off to Center we went. We arrived at the Center at the same time the downpour did. At first glance, it would appear that we missed the action because there was hardly anyone there. Besides my faithful cohorts, the MP, the Village football team (I think) and a few others, there were hardly anyone there - not even the organizers. I hung out for a while, but even the kids started getting bored and begged to be put out of their misery and taken home. I obliged and saw this as an opportunity to go home and get some sleep, but that was not to be, remember, I was the designated chauffeur.
Upon dropping the kids off, I returned to the park where I was once again accosted and directed to be driven to our fearless leader’s home. Once there, the lucky three that accompanied him were treated to the best beef soup I have probably had in my life. When I was invited to help myself for seconds, I did so without hesitation or consideration for the others, for which I offer no apology. Trust me folks, the soup was good. As if that’s not enough, we were offered sour sop juice to top it off - weird combination, yes, but we were not turning down anything. I must take time out here to once again thank Mr. Ramdatt (the senior) for welcoming us into his home and for his hospitality while we were there. Ahhh...that soup!
We left there with our bellies full and ready to continue the day. I opted to miss the much delayed football match so I could get ready for the Homecoming Reception at the Starfish (Trelawny Beach) Hotel. While this was an "Invitation Only" event, I had scored myself an invite by nature of being the designated chauffeur. Being charged with such a responsibility meant that I had to be on time - a challenge to say the least. But I was, more or less, and picked up my wayward cohorts and on to Starfish we went.
The reception was nice and while I felt completely at ease, it was way too subdued for the likes of us. Nevertheless, we ate, drank and mingled; "Lady D" even discovered a relative amongst the mix. At evening’s end, the dilemma was whether to stay and take in the cabaret show or go back to Falmouth and find something to do. For any of you who’ve been to Falmouth in recent time, you must know that finding things to do in Falmouth is a feat in and of itself. Still we managed to find a Nameless-Bar-at-the-Bottom-of-Market-Street where we decided to hang for the rest of the night. Some of us weren’t too happy with this plan and decided to call it an early night, but not me for this was to be my first time hanging out in a bar in Falmouth, certainly not the last.
Again, my duty as a chauffeur was required and I gleefully dropped the "miserable" party home. Upon returning to the bar, I realize that this inaugural experience was not living up to my expectation as I soon became bored and tired, and all of a sudden sleep wasn’t such an overrated concept anymore. So I left my friends and went on my merry way.
Sunday, August 3, 2003; today there would be Independence Church Services and Rafter’s Village Homecoming Day. Many amongst us talked about going to church, but save for Lady D, I don’t believe anyone else went. God bless her - she really represented. I was sleeping, and sleeping, and sleeping. I awoke sometime that afternoon and was trying to figure out just where Rafter’s Village was (yes, I was born and raised in Falmouth but had never been to Rafter’s Village). Lucky for me, our fearless leader had stopped by to retrieve merchandise from my car and so he directed me to the site. Later on that evening, I began the journey and just when I was about to turn back thinking I was lost, I happened upon Rafter’s Village. WOW!!! What a beautiful place.
I believe it had rained a little that day and so the mosquitoes were out in full bloom. I was amazed that more people were not in attendance, after all, there was no admission fee and the liquor was dirt cheap, Sly, Slick & Wicked was pumping, and we even had Bim, the one-man band, for live entertainment. Not to be forgotten were those who decided to school us on the latest dance craze. Dyjam, The Webmaster, Lady D, Bull-Bull and others were busy working the bar and while the turnout was dismal, the camaraderie amongst all the attendees was beautiful. Everyone mingled, laughed, drank, danced, rafted and the whole mood was merry. Again, we were the last to leave after being treated to replenishment of something that "tasted much like chicken", since it was rather too dark to see for ourselves. Once again, I chauffeured a few people home and went on my merry way.
Monday, August 4, 2003. There was not much on the agenda for today except for the Public Forum. A few of us decided to go to Burwood for a few hours much to my children’s delight. We spent the better part of the day at the beach and when the others left to go home to prepare for the forum, I was guilted into staying for another couple of hours by the kids. Needless to say, being Mommy to the children took precedence and I spent the rest of the day and night with my kids. I heard the forum had its moments though, but anything I report here would be hearsay and I would rather let details regarding the forum come from those who were there.
Tuesday, August 5, 2003. Today was rumored to be the day of the Cockpit Country tour and while I have never been there myself, I decided that this would be a day for me to run some errands and stock up on the best tasting coco bread in the world from the Seventh Day Adventist Bakery on Market Street. Earlier that day I stopped by to visit my cohorts who told me that they would be at Burwood. After running some errands, and on my way to Montego Bay, I decided to swing by Burwood first to see what those guys were up to. Lets just say that I never made it to Montego Bay, and had, what was for me, probably, the best day of the trip.
There were six of us there, and we just hung out at the beach for the entire day, reminiscing about the events thus far, reminiscing about our days in Jamaica, basking in the sunlight, drinking beer, soda or whatever and just having a wonderful relaxing day. Just thinking about it now makes me wish I was back there again. Just being amongst friends on an occasion such as this was the essence of "homecoming" for me.
Not wanting the fun to end, and starving from a day spent at the beach, we decided to get some jerk pork (chicken for me) and other jerk goodies in MoBay. We packed into two cars - of course, I was chauffeuring again - and headed West. The evening was hot, the beers were cold and the chicken (and I suspect the pork too) was spicy and delicious. We ate like pigs, licking our fingers and savoring every last bit of our meal. The setting was perfect and the company couldn’t have been better. We had a jolly good time just laughing and having fun.
It was again decided that we were having way too much fun for it to end, so we decided to head back to Falmouth, shower and meet up for a night out. Someone suggested "Margaritaville" and I was psyched. I hurriedly went home and got ready and met up with the group for our night out on the town. We arrived at Margaritaville and although the joint was jumping, I think it’s safe to say that we all felt a little bit out of our element with the MTV-crowd. I don’t believe we could call the night a total bust though, being that it was an MTV-crowd, there was the perfunctory wet T-Shirt contests, dance contest and the like. Entertaining. But like I said, it was not our scene and so we decided to call it a night and head home.
True to my chauffeuring duties, notwithstanding the fact that I was drinking all day, I was still called upon to drive back to Falmouth. To make matters worse, one of the passengers sitting next to me even fell asleep - talk about the death of chivalry. Nevertheless, I drove carefully and got all my passengers home safely and without incident.
Wednesday, August 6, 2003. This was a difficult day for me because not only would I be leaving Jamaica the next day, but I would also be leaving my children behind for a few weeks. As the time grew closer to leave, so did the ache in my heart because I was having more fun than I had anticipated, and I was already missing the children more than I had imagined I would.
Later on that afternoon, I was called upon to chauffeur one of my cohorts to visit a friend. This again turned out to be another beautiful afternoon hanging out at a beautiful place. This was the perfect cap to a brief vacation. While we waited for the friend who never showed up, we made ourselves quite at home consuming cherries picked straight off the trees on the property and the ice-cold beers in the refrigerator. When it started raining, we took shelter on the verandah of this magnificent house and daydreamed about a life of luxury and leisure in Jamaica. Then the rain stopped and we were jolted "back to life, back to reality, back to the here and now."
Later that evening, after packing, I went uptown to find my friends and hang for the night, watching the Independence Day celebration unfold. For me, this was rather nostalgic because that used to be me up there on stage performing front and center for the crowd in Miss Sievwright's dance group. Oh, those were the days of Bandwagons gone by, when we would tour around Trelawny, performing in different towns. Who knew that the day would come when I would look back on those days with such wonderment, longing and appreciation.
While it wasn't a particularly spectacular night in and of itself, it was remarkable nonetheless because of the mere fact that we were "home" and it was fun, and once again we were amongst good friends, having a good time and just wishing the night would never end. And believe me, we all squeezed what we could out of that night. The teens at the Street Dance wanted to stay up as long as we'd allow them, and the adults amongst us who were leaving the island the next day, wanted to get as much as we could. So back to the only place open that came to mind, that Nameless-Bar-at-the-Bottom-of-Market-Street. There we drank, laughed and talked until the barmaid, seeing that we had no intention of leaving, informed us that the bar was closed. Alas! we had to leave.
We went back to the square, gathered our children, said our goodbyes and once again remarked on how wonderful a homecoming it was, regardless of the shortcomings, and parted ways. This time, my friends decided that they would walk home - those who could - while the others secure alternate means of transportation home. I drove home in silence, reflecting on the wonderful experience I had had.
At the start of the Homecoming planning, there was a universal goal in sight. There were big dreams and aspiration about what we wanted to achieve. Throughout the process, many a friendship and acquaintances would be put to the test, while many new friendships were borne and old friendships renewed and others strenghtened. But this was the inaugural Homecoming, and all that stuff were par for the course, I guess. We were all new to this game, and much like the homecoming itself, working together would have its bumps. Nevertheless, the camaraderie amongst us when we finally came together was beautiful; something we may never be able to duplicate.
Homecomings may come and go, the next one may even be more successful, but I believe for all of us, "my cohorts" as I call them, this one will always stand out in our memories - maybe not for the big things, but for those little things that we all shared and the bonds we forged. But, don't take my word for it, start planning now for your "homecoming" next year. I guarantee that you will have the time of your life.
