If you have a mother, he sells anklets that are perfect for mom. If you have a father, he sells t-shirts that would make dad laugh. If you have a neck, he makes necklaces, the real “natural mystic” that Bob Marley sung about. If you drink water, he makes bamboo cups that make it taste better and can double as a flower vase. If you like music, he’s a reggae star and has CDs in the bushes, where he too is standing. He’ll sell you one from 100 feet away, whether you can hear him or not. If you need to get somewhere, he has a taxi but only the e-brake works (surprisingly, that’s ok because he drives well with it). If you want to raft down the Rio Grande, he’s the captain of his own bamboo raft, whether he’s 8 or 80 years old. If you want herb, he’s got the ‘igh-grade at a special price. If you’re hungry, he may not have anything to offer you but his cousin makes the best jerk chicken in Jamaica at his jerk stand that is also an obvious drug operation. He’ll walk you to his cousin’s shop for a small fee, hidden in the inflated price of the food. Prefer something else? He’ll give you a sample of juicy, smoky pork loin meat, then trim the fat off the sample slab and wrap it up for you. If you want seafood, he’s got it, still twitching, in a pillowcase. If he has nothing to sell, he’ll climb up a palm tree and pick you a not-yet-ripe coconut then demand you pay him for it. If you have prostate cancer, he’s got a secret medicinal jungle root in his shopping bag that cured his prostate. If you want to make a “fat coil” (a bundle of money), he’s got 200 pounds of ganja in saran wrap, ready to be smuggled. If you want a cup of coffee, he’s a farmer. For a very good price, he’ll take you right to the farm to pick the beans. He’s Jamaican.
What’s that? You don’t want to buy anything? You don’t even want to look? “BUMBACLOT, MON!”
We had not actually stepped foot on Jamaican soil before hearing our first sales pitch. As we arrived at the dock to clear customs and immigration, a Jamaican explained to us that marine courtesy flags are taken seriously in Jamaica. Fortunately, he had one crumpled up in his back pocket that he was willing to sell to us. Nearly everywhere we went it was the same thing: people, not necessarily homeless or unemployed, asking for handouts and trying desperately and unabashedly to sell goods or services. Jamaicans barter among themselves too, though tourists are given a harder time and a much higher price. Even if you know the price, say, of the standard cab fare from Port Antonio to Boston Bay, the taxi driver will be irritated when he discovers he can’t get anything extra out of you. At the end of the ride, he may tack on an extra fee or change the price you confirmed before you got in the cab.
As you read this, you’re probably thinking we are culturally insensitive. Let us provide one more example to demonstrate why that opinion is incorrect. From across the street a man hollers at you “Ey! White man! Come ‘ere! I have something for you! Surfer man! Look here! WHITE MAN!” He’s shouting so loud that people stop, turning to see what’s going on. It feels more like an attack than a sale. You feel your face turning pink with embarrassment and anger. It’s not cultural insensitivity. It’s desensitization. We can only witness and imagine the desperation many people feel, having lived in poverty. We extend our sympathy, our pity. We listen. We give money and food. Yet we cannot help but feel worn down, upset, aggravated by these experiences.
In spite of these disappointing encounters, Jamaica also has some of the most wonderful people we’ve met. We’d be doing them (and ourselves) a terrible injustice by not giving them equal mention, if not in quantity of writing then in quality. One person in particular was genuine and happy to an extent that perhaps none of us three had ever before witnessed. He treated us as his friends from the moment he met us. He gave us fruit from his mother’s tree. He encouraged Max to keep learning to surf when he was discouraged. We had always heard that one could have few material possessions and be happy nonetheless. No one demonstrates it better than him. He moved out of his house and into a tent on the beach. He loves his home and cares for it wholeheartedly. He is always himself, never deceiving or pretending. He does not ask for anything because he does not want anything. He is satisfied because he chooses to be. His happiness does not depend on anything or anyone external. Antonio radiates joy from within, sharing his light with others. And he too is Jamaican.
Big up Richard "Pressa". Big up "Koof-Kauf". Big up Charlie. Big up Jevon. Big up everyone at Boston Bay.
