Melville Cooke
I FIRST HEARD of Christine Hewitt about seven years ago on Mutabaruka's IRIE FM Cutting Edge programme. She was speaking merrily about a concert at a hotel in Ocho Rios which had run into some problems and how a 'topanaris' woman had told her she would see to it that Hewitt never worked in Jamaica again.
And Hewitt laughed with the merriment of the not only unconcerned but one who had actually enjoyed the run-in.
I last saw Christine Hewitt last week Tuesday, as she hosted the launch of a product called Real Jamaican Sorrel at the Hilton hotel, New Kingston.
She sat beside me and said you may kiss me. "Many men would like the privilege, but you may go ahead", offering me her right cheek. It would have taken a far braver man than me to decline that combination of a command and an invitation (leaning heavily towards command) and I did not wish to refuse in any case.
She engaged in brief conversation with someone seated to my right, during which she said that she has made three resolutions in her life - to be beautiful, to be comfortable and to be fearless.
And she went on to host the programme in exuberant fashion, at one point flashing a smile at the audience when the band took a little longer than she expected to set up and she had made enquiries with a guitarist.
"Bassie know sey me cyaan vex wid him, because him young and handsome an' yu know how me stay ...," she said, to laughter.
MEMORIES
Almost exactly 48 hours later, it was suspected that she was dead.
I did not know Christine Hewitt, save for the odd encounter at an entertainment event over the past 18 months or so. I would say I experienced Christine Hewitt on stage as an MC and, more recently, her forays into the world of stand-up comedy. Her comedy was mostly real life drama, her real life drama, which got an extended run on stage as she closed the 'Woman Time Now' edition of the Backyaad Crack-Up comedy show in May.
She started out in a staid outfit, saying that when women get to a certain age that is how they are expected to dress, also demonstrating the dull way they are expected to walk, then discarded the frock to stand and saunter in a tight outfit.
She spoke about being broke and living at her office at one point when she was doing Man Talk on television and there was laughter when she said "One thing though, I was never late for work". She spoke about being $22 million in debt in the late '90s and there was more applause when she said that she was almost out of the red now (forget about repaying $22 million. How the hell do you rack up that sort of debt in the first place?).
She declared that these days, her intention when she leaves home is to "mek man wet an' mek woman fret" and ended by collecting cash from the audience to fund funerals for two elderly men in Warsop, Trelawny, who had been dead for about one year combined. And now she is dead.
We do not expect persons such as Christine Hewitt, who wore her exuberance for life, her emotions, her commitments on her sleeve, to die, much less be killed.
She is the kind of person whom you expect to turn up even now, smile and say, "when dem sey mi dead, mek sure yu see di body, mek sure a me inna de coffin an' mek sure seal de grave good."
Which is why her murder has been a shock to those who knew her in the public sense. For if Christine Hewitt can go, who can't?
Melville Cooke is a freelance writer.
