The old great house in Hartlands, even though no longer occupied, provides a beautiful backdrop. - photo by Robert Lalah In the light of the scorching midday sun, the two women, with their heads and faces covered with old T-shirts, were bent over what looked like a row of weeds. It was a dry, brown section of a cane field that the women were standing in, but it was hard to tell for sure, because whatever cane had been there had long disappeared. In the distance, there stood a huge, white building that looked like it hadn't been lived in for centuries. Just beside the cane field where the women were hard at work was an old, dusty road. A tractor drove by a moment earlier, giving rise to a thick cloud of white dust. The women disappeared for a while until the dust settled.
"Lawd man! Mek him nuh tek time wid di tractor? Mi talk to him all di time you know. Him know dat di place dry and him still won't take him time!" shouted one of the women, waving her hands in front of her face. The other woman was still bent over in the field. Her face was completely covered so the dust didn't seem to be much of a bother to her.
I walked over to the women who seemed quite amused by my presence. "Is who you is? After mi never see around here yet!" remarked the woman who was standing erect. The other woman didn't even look up, but continued pulling what looked like weeds from the soil. I explained to the women that I wanted to know about their community. I let them know that I would be much obliged if they at least told me the name of the place in which I had found myself quite by chance. "What a prekeh!" the woman who was standing straight chuckled. I didn't know what that meant and because she didn't immediately say anything else, I started to wonder if that was the name of the place. Luckily for me, the other woman finally spoke up. "The place name Hartlands, you hear young bwoy," she said.
Strange features
Hartlands is a unique community with many strange features. It's a small, out of the way community in St. Catherine, not too far from well-known places like Innswood and Old Harbour, but when you're there it feels like you have travelled to deep, rural Jamaica. I had earlier passed women collecting water in large buckets at a canal and then putting the buckets on their heads and walking away effortlessly. Even as I stood beside the women, not too far from the road, an old, grey donkey was staring at me from about 50 feet away. I asked the women about this.
"Yes, it come just like country. I born inna Manchester and live wid my granny till she dead, so mi know 'bout country life. This is just like country even though it not," said the shorter of the two women who gave her name as Jennifer.
I asked what they were doing in the cane field.
"Yes man, is pure woman work inna cane field 'round here. Di man dem get lazy now so we haffi take over. Is whole heap a wi do dis kind of work. Right now we just preparing the soil so that when the rain fall now, then the new crop will be ready," Jennifer said.
The other woman, Ilene, cleared her throat. I asked her what the old building in the background was used for.
"Nobody don't live there anymore. It used to be the great house for this area. That mean dat di backra massa used to live there and look out pan him slave dem. But it get old and mash up now. I don't think dem use it fi anything anymore, nuh true Jennifer?" she asked, poking her colleague in the ribs. "Fi real," was the reply she got.
The women explained that most of the people who live in the community are small-time farmers, however many residents survive by operating small shops and bars.
"Nothing much happen here still. If you looking fun and excitement you not going to find it here. People here only work and go school and drink rum when dem ready. We have a primary school here and the children dem doing very well still," Ilene said.
"Hartlands is a place that most people just forget about. It just quiet and lazy but sometime that better than the noise and frustration of town," Ilene said.
robert.lalah@gleanerjm.com
