Mum makes a stern point. - Norman Grindley /Deputy Chief Photographer

In a small, quiet community called Pero in the hills of St. Thomas, a short, plump woman wearing a black cap and thick-framed spectacles is bent over a pink tub in her backyard scrubbing clothes with a small brush.

She shouts to someone inside the house. "Maizie! Tun off di pot!" She looks around and sees photographer Norman Grindley and me approaching. She lets the brush drop into the tub of water with a splash, and smiles. "Is who this come to look for me now. How unnu do?" she asks, wiping her hands dry on the front of her dress.

Little does the woman realise that we are being led by her granddaughter, who only now appears from behind a bush. "Is me bring dem, Mum. Is long time a tell you dat somebody should come hear fi you story dem," the woman's granddaughter, Daisy says.

Mum chuckles. "Aye mi gyal. You know say you shoulda tell mi mek mi fix up and put pot pan fiyah. But is alright, unnu come," she gestures for us to come closer. Mum then disappears into the house and returns carrying two plastic chairs. She puts them down under a large mango tree and tells us to make ourselves comfortable. The ease with which the woman carries the chairs makes it hard to believe that she is all of 97 years old. "Hee! Yes pupa. Mi is well close to hundred. But pot haffi cook and clothes haffi wash, so mi nuh badda get weak and dem ting deh. Dat a fi old people" she laughs.

Unique things

That's one of the most unique things about Mum, as she is known to every one in her community. She's close to 100 years old, yet she doesn't seem to realise it, or even care for that matter. Mum does her own washing, cooking, cleaning, gardening, animal rearing and even a bit of entertaining all on her own.

"Den why mi shoulda stop do it? Afta mi nuh invalid!" she quips. Mum is like the mother of the entire community and her memory is as sharp as ever. She can tell almost everyone in the community the exact time and date that they were born, who their parents are and how they behaved as children. "Mi memba all dem ting deh. Is the coffee what mi been drinking. Everybody use to tell mi dat coffee a go kill mi off, but I nuh pay dem nuh mind," Mum says. "See it deh now, dem dead and gone and mi still deh yah a gwaan."

Independent woman

Now, even though Mum is an independent woman, the people of Pero can't resist giving her a hand in whatever way they can. While we were chatting with the woman in the shade of the large tree, there was a knock on the zinc gate.

"Who dat?" Mum shouted.

"Is me Mum," a man replied. Mum beckoned for the man to come in and, as he pushed the gate, a dog started barking behind the house.

"Hold dog!" the man shouted.

"Him nah bite you. Just come," Mum assured the man, who was carrying a large white bag. "Is mi neighbour. Him carry mi grocery dem. Is him buy it and carry it for me," Mum said proudly.

From what we heard, this kind of thing is not uncommon in that community, where most residents are farmers of some sort. Everyone in the community chips in, in whatever way they can to make their favourite woman comfortable.

"Dem love me and me love dem. Is so we live around here. When dem was young, I used to take care of them. Now dem think mi old so dem try to take care of me. Is so it go and come back around," Mum said with a hearty laugh. "If more people did live like how we in this community live den Jamaica would be better off. Everything I can remember about old time days I make sure that I tell the young ones so that dem know where dem coming from. Enough people not doing dat these days. More people need to know where dem coming from, so dat dem can know where dem going," Mum said.

robert.lalah@gleanerjm.com