LEFT: Who needs an umbrella? Shirley Castle residents get by fine without them. RIGHT: Mr. Bradshaw in deep thought. He's one of the most highly respected residents of Shirley Castle.
THE DREADLOCKED man walked into the shop and up to the counter. "Miss Grace! Gimme two pound a pig tail deh!" I thought it a bit curious that he would be partaking of the swine. Then again, there was a church down the road that had only two members and according to residents, it rains in the community every single day, so I should have known that Shirley Castle was no ordinary place.
Yes, photographer Norman Grindley and I were in Shirley Castle district, hidden deep in the hills of Portland. And when I say hidden, I mean really hidden. Only about 200 persons live in the community which is covered with fog for about nine hours of every day. It's so high up in the mountains that you feel as if you're in heaven looking down on the world.
I guess sensing my unease, the dreadlocked bloke introduced himself. "How you gentlemen doing?" he said rather eloquently. "My name is Zeke, good to see the gentleman dem passingthrough. We is all one Jamaican," he said with a smile.
Zeke was dressed in black from head to toe. It was raining, so he even had a black plastic bag on his head to keep dry. He was wearing an improvised raincoat that looked more like a cape. I chuckled to myself when I first saw him, thinking he looked like a comic book character. He was, however, wielding a machete, so I quickly stifled the laugh.
We were in the only shop in all of Shirley Castle district. Miss Grace, the proprietor, was relaxing behind the counter. She wore an unusually thick pair of glasses and a green dress. Upon Zeke's request, the middle-aged woman retreated into a back room.
Zeke told us that he was a coffee farmer and that most of the men in the community did the same kind of work. "Dat is what we do round here. We grow di best coffee in the world right here," he said, water dripping from his plastic hat onto his water boots.
MORE MEN
By then, two other men came up a hill and into the small shop. They too were carrying machetes and wore water boots. They were soaking wet. "Morning, morning. How unnu doing?" they asked as they walked by us. "Miss Grace! trust mi a pound a rice and some salt ting deh!" the taller of the two shouted. "Ah coming to you!" Miss Grace shouted back.
The men joined us. They were Lennox and Milton. "Bwoy, most people don't know bout Shirley Castle still, but trust me, is the nicest place to live," Milton said. He was a pleasant fellow. He wore a rain drenched red shirt and his hands were covered with dirt. "I wouldn't leave dis place fi nothing".
Milton said he had never been outside his community and saw no reason to ever venture out. "Mi have everything mi need. Friend, food, mi farm, mi criss!" the 30-something year-old said, causing the others to chuckle.
Lennox was more adventurous. Well, slightly. "Mi go Kingston one time when mi did falla mi neighbour go pick up him daughter a di airport. Afta dat mi seh mi naw go back massa. Too much noise and ting. Mi nuh inna it bawba!" he said, looking rather displeased by the memory.
Miss Grace had rejoined the group with Zeke's pig's tail and Lennox's 'salt ting'.
"Den Miss Grace, ah wah kinda fenkeh fenkeh piece a meat dis?" Lennox quipped as he examined the peculiar looking contents of a plastic bag the woman handed to him.
"Bwoy you fi have manners. You nuh see company deh yah. Nuh seh dem ting deh in front a di Kingston man dem. Look yah, don't mek mi get dark," the woman responded, waving a fist at the frightened looking Lennox. "Sor ... Sorry Miss Grace" he replied sheepishly.
ONE FAMILY
Miss Grace turned to me. "Now what you need to know is dat the people in Shirley Castle live like one family. Nothing like crime here. The last time a policeman come up here was 12 years ago," she said. I chuckled, thinking it was a joke. "Ah wah you a laugh bout? Is a serious ting. Police only come here when dem a check a friend or something. No crime or anything up dis side," Miss Grace finished, inducing nods of agreement from the men. "Dat is why mi naw go back a Kingston," Lennox stated, as if justifying his decision.
"You know what else different bout dis place?" Miss Grace looked back at me. "It rain here everyday!" This brought shouts of approval from the others in the group. "If is even for a minute, rain fall everyday. Dat's why mi tell you seh dis place is God blessed," Lennox chimed in.
Outside, a steady line of farmers were making their way from their fields. They all sheltered from the rain with huge leaves they cut off trees. Some used leaves off plantain trees, others used bushes. It was quite a sight when the group walked together. Even in the rain, each farmer managed to wave hello before passing by.
Miss Grace told us that just across the road, lived Mr. Bradshaw who was a highly respected Justice of the Peace. The group insisted that we go over to his home and speak with him. So we bid the friendly few farewell and headed across the road.
Knock, knock. We pounded on the gate. A short, stocky man appeared in the doorway. "Yes, come in. Come along," he said, smiling. Before we could get out a word, he extended his hand and offered us seats on his veranda. We told him we wanted to know a bit about the community. "Well the main thing is that this is a very friendly, quiet place. We all live like a family. I have been here all my life and I have never heard of any crime being committed here," he said. Mr. Bradshaw confirmed that it rains almost every day in the community. The rain is the only source of water the residents have. There are no water pipes, only a spring and a large tank that collects rain water. But the friendly people of Shirley Castle don't seem to mind. Mr. Bradshaw said it best: "We don't have many things that other communities have. But we all can't have everything. We have peace and love and so we are all alright".
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