Windmills of Wigton

When Maas Sherwood, who lives just outside Wigton in Manchester, gets up in the mornings, he puts his pants on, prepares a cup of mint tea and heads outside. It's usually still dark then, with morning dew still fresh on the grass outside his back door. He takes a stretch and pauses to greet the day before heading out to his small farm about half-mile away.

It's a routine he has been following for more than 40 years and in that time, quite a few changes have taken place in the hilly, rural community. But there's one change in particular that Maas Sherwood just can't seem to get used to.

"Every time mi see dem big whole a sinting dem a spin, mi frighten," he said.

You see, just outside the small but well-cared-for structure that Maas Sherwood calls home is a giant, constantly spinning wind turbine. In fact, there are several of them there.

They're an odd fixture for the otherwise run-of-the-mill rural community, but over the years, Wigton, which sits between Rose Hill and Plowden, has become better known for its energy-generating wind turbines than for anything else.

'What a sinting favah plane!'

"Bout seven year now di government people dem, some big man inna jeep, come put up dem sinting yah. What a sinting favah plane!" Maas Sherwood said.

I was standing next to the fence that surrounds his farm. The lifelong farmer is pushing 80 but looks and moves about like any 50-year-old.

I asked him if he had a problem with the wind turbines being set up in his community.

"Nuh really, yuh know. For dem tell we seh it ah go help fi cut down di light bill and dem ting deh," he said.

"Sometime yuh might have a one dawta wid yuh ah di rum bar and drink until yuh nice though. When dat happen and yuh look up and see dem big someting yah, yuh goodly ketch frighten and fall down," Maas Sherwood chuckled.

It was a warm day in Wigton. Of course, because it's so high up, a warm day in Wigton is cooler than it would be in many other places. From certain points, you can even catch a glimpse of the sea.

I looked up at the giant, spinning blades of the wind turbine that was closest to me. It was making a low, humming sound, hardly louder than a house fan. A small light on top of it kept blinking.

"Whole heap ah people yuh know. Whole heap ah people come here come look pon dem and teck pitchka," said Maas Sherwood.

There were a lot of houses around, some of them quite lavish.

I asked him what else was going on in Wigton.

"Well, nothing much yuh know. One time Wigton did more livelier dan now," he said.

"Wigton have a whole heap ah land space, so yuh have nuff likkle farm. But most ah di resident dem ah move out now. Everybody gone ah town."

Maas Sherwood seemed annoyed by this.

"Yeah man. Den everybody caan live ah town. If everybody live ah town, how dat woulda work?" he said.

I spent a few minutes more with Maas Sherwood before heading over to a small shop painted in red and yellow. I stuck my head inside and looked around. There wasn't much on the shelves, only a few packets of instant soup mix and a weather-beaten bottle of syrup. Nobody was inside. I turned around to leave, only to find myself face to face with a short, smiling woman. She seemed tickled by the fact that she had caught me by surprise.

"Hush! Mi tink yuh did hear mi ah walk come," she said.

I introduced myself and she told me to call her Lee. I asked Lee to tell me about Wigton.

"It pretty nuh true?" she said.

I agreed with her.

"Yeah, man. Wigton cool and nice. Whole heap ah space fi run up and down. And when time get hot, we have whole heap ah fan fi keep wi cool," she laughed.

Where should Robert go next? Let him know at robert.lalah@gleanerjm.com.

The following are some feedback letters received to last week's edition of Roving with Lalah.

Dear Robert,

I look forward to the laughs your weekly contributions to The Gleaner bring. The colloquialisms are amusing and bring on nostalgia to us ex-pats. Thanks.

- CT

Dear Robert,

My neighbours are going to file a complaint! I always seem to read your articles in the wee hours of the morning and I cannot retain the laughter. 'Inveigle' - this word spoke volumes, man. I can still hear my grandmother using it. I am hankering after next week's masterpiece!

- Jean-Pierre

Dear Robert,

I enjoy your weekly articles of 'real Jamaican life'. Just amazing how you capture the soul of these people in your writing.

- Faithful reader from New Jersey