Quite a heavy load! Dennis and Monique chat casually with the blocks still on their heads! - NORMAN GRINDLEY/DEPUTY CHIEF PHOTOGRAPHER
ALRIGHT, THAT was it! The wrinkled old man with the block on his head mumbled something about all Jamaicans being monkeys and by George, I was not about to take it sitting down!
I was fuming! With clenched fists, I was about to start bobbing and weaving in a clever attempt to distract him while I reached for the nearest plank to floor the impertinent imbecile, but a timely whisper from my colleague cleared the air.
It turns out the poor fellow wasn't being rude after all. Instead, he was actually saying all Jamaicans were marvellous.
HONEST MISTAKE
A honest mistake on my part. The whole French patois thing had me a bit confused. Oh, I should probably explain. You see, I was in a small community called Anse La Raye in St. Lucia, standing on the side of a hill overlooking an old country road, with a man with two blocks on his head. Strange, I know. But more on that in a moment.
Anse La Raye is St. Lucia's answer to Port Royal in Jamaica. It's mainly a fishing community where the residents live peacefully with each other and there is always a party of some sort going on. The few hundred persons who live there may not be the richest on the island, but you would never know it just by talking with them.
They certainly are a happy bunch who don't seem to have a care in the world.
But back to the matter at hand. We (photographer Norman Grindley and I) were not in the community even five minutes, when we met Dennis Gerald. A real block head. Don't get me wrong, I mean no harm when I say this. We actually met him while he was climbing a hill with two concrete blocks on his head.
63-YEAR-OLD FELLOW
More than a few persons told us about this fellow when we first got to the island. The 63-year-old is building a home for himself at the top of the rather steep hill. Every single block that has been laid for the home so far, has been taken up the hill by him in this very fashion.
The truck that delivers the blocks, can't climb the steep hill, so the blocks are left at the side of the road. So every day, Brother Dennis, as he is called, carries the blocks in pairs, on his head, about a quarter mile up the hill. Hour by hour, he goes about this duty, without as much as a frown. In fact, it is well known that Brother Dennis will not let a vehicle pass, or a pedestrian walk by, without stopping, with the blocks on his head, to have a conversation.
Now Brother Dennis, we were told, is something of a community leader, so we went in search of him early one morning.
The road to Anse La Raye, from the capital Castries is extremely winding. It's about a half an hour journey. About a minute before I was about to revisit my breakfast, we took a sharp bend and sure enough, there was the famous bloke.
Brother Dennis was wearing a tattered white shirt, a white cap and a pair of pants that were cut off at the knees. Oh, and of course, he was sporting two concrete blocks on his head.
As our car approached, Brother Dennis, who was already on his way up the hill, stopped and turned toward us. I was most alarmed when he started waving with a happy smile. "Er ... hello," said I, quite puzzled.
I got out of the car. "You coming up?" Brother Dennis asked.
"Ah, what is up there?" I asked, but it didn't seem to matter much to Brother Dennis.
"Come, lets go. Let's go," he said and was off. I struggled to keep up with the man, being forced to run at times, while the man strolled casually up what must have been the steepest hill I've ever seen.
After what seemed like ages, we finally got to the top of the hill. "So how are you"," the man turned to me after adding the blocks that were on his head, to a large pile beside the unfinished house. The house, by the way, was massive and several men were inside shovelling this and mixing that. "Pan t ... pant .... you brought up all these blocks yourself?" I managed to ask.
The man chuckled. "Yes, yes, I build the house,".
Brother Dennis pointed to a small wooden structure nearby. "That is where I live now, so I am building this now and I will take that apart when it is finished," he said.
The noise from the shovelling stopped and two men joined us. They looked strikingly similar to Brother Dennis, who later confirmed that they were his brothers.
I asked them to tell me about the community.
Dominique, the eldest of the lot spoke up.
"It is one family that lives here. My sister lives across the way and and this is my brother's house," he said.
Most of the residents in Anse La Raye are fisherfolk, and this bunch was no exception. But they don't only depend on the sea for survival, they dabble in anything that comes their way. Some of them are part time painters and others make craft items to sell to the tourists.
Like a postcard! The view from Brother Dennis' home is superb! "I know of Jamaica. I know Jamaica is wonderful. We are one family anyway. We are brothers and sisters. You look like my brother." - NORMAN GRINDLEY/DEPUTY CHIEF PHOTOGRAPHER
When I told them I was from Jamaica, Dominique mumbled something in French patois, the more popular dialect on the island.
"So what do you know about Jamaica?" I asked the group.
It was brother Dennis who responded first. "I don't know nothing about Jamaica," he said, smiling.
"But haven't you heard anything?" I asked.
"No. I know nothing of Jamaica,".
A voice behind me caused me to turn around quite suddenly. It was that of a woman who was making her way up the hill, sure enough, with a block on her head.
"I know of Jamaica. I know Jamaica is wonderful. We are one family anyway. We are brothers and sisters. You look like my brother," she said.
She told us her name was Monique, and she has never been to Jamaica.
She said someone once told her that Jamaica was a violent country. "But I don't believe that. It could never be. It must all be lies. I know Jamaicans are the nicest people in the world," she said, adding that if she were to travel to anywhere in the world, it would be Jamaica.
The lot of us spoke for more than an hour, with them probing me for information on Jamaica, a place they admitted they knew very little about. In a while we had to leave and were bid farewell with warm hugs. "You Jamaicans are marvellous. Make sure to tell more Jamaicans to visit!" shouted Claudia as we walked back down the hill. "We love Jamaicans!"
Note: To Claudia: Your..ah...hospitality was the best I've experienced in a while! I'll be back for more!
Note: To Claudia: Your ... ah ... hospitality was the best I've experienced in a while! I'll be back for more!
- Accommodation in
St. Lucia was provided by Sandals Resorts International.
Have a feedback? Email: robert.lalah@gleanerjm.com.
