UNDER THE ALMOND TREE

 Casually sitting on the sidewalk under the almond tree at Sign is where most of my fondest childhood memories were created in the mid-seventies. That was where we congregated, made and executed all our devious plans as children. I grew up in a two bedroom house which was later renovated to three rooms as our brother matured. At the time it was painted a light greenish color with white sidings. There was a fence around the property which comprised of barb wire and a dilapidated wooden gate which I thought was intended to keep us inside since our mother was at work most of the time. It did not serve its purpose especially when school was out on vacation. Since most of us who grew up in that area were related we hung out together and had each other’s back.

We were young and had numerous opportunities to be restless but we also had our assigned daily chores to perform. Even though Ina (that’s our mom) was not a disciplinarian we knew she didn’t play around so we made sure what had to be done was done. Hurriedly each morning we filled the drums with water from the stand pipe which was not too far from our home, washed the dishes, pulled bushes to sweep the yard.

After we would have had our breakfast and completed our tasks we would sneak out of the yard being careful not to be seen by our biggest sister. She was a killjoy and always complained on us when Ina returned from work. That never stopped us anyway. However, if caught we always had our story that we were going to spend the day with our cousins who lived a few houses away. That didn’t sit too well with her either because whenever we got together it was usually trouble. 

Out of the watchful eyes of the adults we created our own entertainment by indulging in a variety of games to include morrals and hopscotch which we played in the road. We had to have a look-out person to alert us when a car was coming. “karr ah Kum” they would yell and hurriedly we gathered the stones out of the road before the car arrived. Marbles was another one of our favorite pastimes and we were extremely competitive in this game. At the side of the road just in front of our fence was an area used specifically for that. We crouched on our knees, elbows and even our stomachs to size up the competition and devised strategies to win the game. One could actually hear a pin drop during this time and the shouts of excitement and groans of defeat at the end of each game.

As the afternoons approached, we patiently waited with excitement for the cows to come home. A couple of houses from where we lived were the Jones’ who had quite a few animals and we derived great pleasure from walking on the cows chains as they passed by. Even though we were afraid of cows and were cautioned not to get too close to them we figured out a way to have some fun. We waited on the last herd of cows to pass by and then we would carefully step on the chains trying our best not to fall off as the animals move along. As much as we tried not to fall we usually did, and ended up with bruises to our hands and feet as we scrambled to get away from the animals, the bushes and animal waste on the road. Every day one or either all of us would end up falling down but we never gave up on this excursion.

On Wednesday and Sunday nights we choose to attend the mission church in the village. We didn’t need any prompting from our parents to do so because we had our own agenda. We were attending for the entertainment. The music was hard core and the members could dance as if they were in a club. We found enjoyment in watching and sometimes the atmosphere became contagious and we would get in on the action. We also enjoyed the testimonies where members would stand to give an account of how God has been good to them. Some members rambled on until they were asked to wind down to give others a chance. This was always met with amusement by us and we would get scathing looks from the members when they heard us giggling. Those looks generally achieved their purpose and we would immediately quiet down.

 However, some testimonies we found really hysterical and no looks could ever deter us and to control our giggles we had to quickly exit the building. One evening our local shop keeper recalled a dream she had where she saw Jesus on a donkey as he rode past her. She testified that she tried to call out to him but he never answered her. In her words “I saw Jesus on a donkey and I cried Jesus, Jesus and Jesus didn’t even look back pon me.” Even as children we realized this couldn’t be a good testimony if Jesus wasn’t looking at her. We looked at one another in astonishment and tried hard not to laugh out loud. With our hands over our lips we shook with uncontrollable laughter as members of the church sitting close by nudged us to be still although they too found it funny.

 It was mandatory in those days for women to cover their heads in the Church and we often used head ties since we didn’t have hats. One night we decided to take it up a notch and changed the style by tying and knotting it under our chins. We knew it would create a spectacle and so we journeyed to the church, slowly entering with our heads bowed and stifling giggles. We sat in our seat trying hard to keep straight faces while everyone looked at us disapprovingly. It seemed as if we became too much of a distraction for the congregation, because not long after the prayers were said I remembered the pastor referring to us as little Indians and asked us to please leave. Trying to look offended we marched out the same way we came in one behind the other and collapsed with laughter when we reached outside. That didn’t stop us from attending the services and we continued to visit sometimes just to annoy the regular members.

In our neighborhood there was a little old lady who delighted in making life miserable us. Ms. Mattie was the thorn in our flesh who complained on us daily. She lived on the opposite side of the road adjacent to our house and each afternoon as soon as Ina exited the bus she would secretly beckon to her to come as she related all that we did during the day. She couldn’t walk, so most of the time she stayed on her bed which was close to a window observing who came and went from our home. This was where she observed everything that happened and then reported on us to our parents.

Her disability didn’t prevent her from making a living so she roasted peanuts and made sugar cakes especially on the weekends. These were our treats that Ina would buy for us and used as bribes to do tasks we were unwilling to do. As well as not being able to move around properly Ms. Mattie couldn’t see too well either. We used, or tried to use these two disadvantages to our benefit. When Ina wasn’t around we wrapped a one cent coin in a piece of foil to make it look like a quarter as we tried to make a purchase from her.  We might have succeeded a few times but she soon caught on to our scheme and whenever we try to make a purchase she would feel the circumference of the coin to ensure it was indeed a twenty five cent coin. Whenever she realized it was fake she would toss it back with such force that had it come into contact with us it would surely damage us. She finally complained to Ina and after some licks with a belt made from a tire we eventually stopped.

Ms. Mattie also had a dumps tree, so at night when she was locked in we sneaked into her yard ever so quietly and picked as much fruit as we could before we got caught. Lennox, was a relative of hers who stayed with her at times and just as we waited for them to lock in that was the same plan they had for us when they realized what we were up to. Seeing that we had picked the lower hanging fruits it was only right that we should climb the tree. That was a bit difficult as we couldn’t avoid coming into contact with the needle like pricks on the tree. As hard as we tried not to make a sound getting pricked was not easy and from time to time some coward would yell out in pain. 

The screams were loud enough to wake up them up and they would be as sneaky as we were and catch us unaware as they threw stones in the tree at us. Lennox was left handed and I can still see the force he exerted when he flung the stones our way. He was no match for us, since none of us ever got hurt but we ran like scared rabbits out the yard all the while laughing hysterically. In the morning there were no hard feelings for either of them as we greeted Ms. Mattie and talked and played with Lennox as though the night never happened.

Saturdays were our beach and picnic lime. We walked to Long Bay, Indian Town and Devils Bridge not bothered by the heat of the sun as we laughed and talked the entire time anticipating the cool waters at the end of the journey. We couldn’t swim but we thoroughly enjoyed the water and stayed in until our skins would start to get wrinkled. At that point we walked along the rocks and looked for periwinkle or any seafood that lived on the rocks. If we had enough we carried them home to cook and eat.

I recalled one day on our way to Long bay we stopped by Devils Bridge. Growing up it was perceived to be very dangerous so we avoided there most of the time, however that day we needed a bit more excitement and so we traipsed through the rugged path to the location. Seeing the water rising in the air and then lashing against the rocks was a beautiful spectacle.  After we had our fill of that and were getting ready to leave, the shortest member of the group decided he wanted to do a bit more and he was challenged to throw a stone over the bridge, that was definitely not allowed.

He picked the stone up and to toss it over the cliff chanting “devil, devil do you work” suddenly we realized that he had lost his footing and was struggling for dear life not to fall over. There was sudden pandemonium as the older ones tried feverishly to pull him back up, while the rest of us looked on in terror and screamed for help, fortunately for him he was safely rescued and we hastily left devils bridge each of us with our own thoughts too frightened to talk out loud. That was exactly what we were warned about and even to this day whenever I visit that area I stay as far away from the edge as possible.

 Spencer’s bay was another beach we frequented on Saturdays. It was a secluded bay surrounded by mangroves with small pebbles instead of sand at the shore. We walked through the mangroves into the swamp looking for crabs, cockles and periwinkle which we cooked either on the beach or at home.

The cook-outs were really fun when everything went as planned. Using the empty milk or soup cans as our pots we rummaged our cupboards at home looking for items to cook,  hoping they won’t be missed when our parents were ready for them. Whatever we took we had to make sure our older sibling was not aware of what we were up to. We would locate an area close enough to the beach, clean it of the debris and build a fire pit to start the pot cooking. We all prepared our own dish but would have a taste of everyone else’s food. We took in the shade of the trees exchanging jokes and just enjoying the good company.  

However things got out of hand one fateful Saturday as we waited for the pots to finish. So engrossed were we in our conversation that we were unaware that one of the pot had boiled over into the fire and a blaze was beginning.  The flames seemed to get brighter and bigger within seconds and very soon the nearby bushes caught on fire, as we jostled to the beach for water to get it under control. It seemed as if the more water we threw the higher the flames grew.  As desperation gripped us we started to run and scream but were quite fortunate to find a bucket that was big enough to hold more water as we doused the rising blaze. Finally we got it under control and with sighs of relief we rested under a nearby tamarind tree tired and hungry as the foods were unpalatable at that time to eat. Little did we know that we were being observed by a villager that reported us to our parents who gave us our just desserts when we arrived home.

There were other days when cooking alone could not satisfy us and partaking of the beautiful sea water was the answer. It was our love of the beach which we visited almost every day during the holidays that accounted for the reddish brown color of our hair at that time. With all the hours spent at the beach we never mastered the art of swimming however enjoyed the time in the water. We walked the jetty like pros and jumped off like experts, bobbing and weaving allowing the water to take us along. When we realized our feet could not touch the sand or that the water had covered our heads we would hurriedly move closer to shore. I specifically remembered an area in water where a lot of corrals were located and we would invent ways to reach it and just sit and chill on them.

As was usually the case with us, catastrophe was not very far away. On one of our beach outings we saw that the fishermen had left their boats on the sand so we decided to take a trip. There were quite a few of us so we organized ourselves in groups. The boat was untied and it was carefully maneuvered it into the water by the older ones. The first assigned group jumped in while the rest of us gathered on the jetty to watch and cheer them on. There was laughter and chatter as the boat slowly made its way from the shoreline. How and when it happened I am not exactly sure but a few yards away something seemed to have gone terribly wrong.

There were shouts and screams as the little boat swayed in the water and those aboard tried desperately to keep it from capsizing.

They were not successful and the screams and cries got louder and could be heard from miles away. I can still remember seeing heads going up and down as they waved their hands to keep moving. What stood out most to me that day was seeing my cousin Lornette head going under the water as she tried in vain to stay afloat. With her hands upward she screamed and sputtered as water filled her mouth. I always remembered her as being a real coward and her cries and screams cemented that for me. Whether or not the danger was real she would scream.  Luckily her older brother was in the boat at too and came to her aid brining her safely to the shore. Everyone was eventually rescued and saved, to God be the glory. Needless to say the second trip never materialized and that was one of the excursions we never tried again.

Cellular phones were not around at the time but somehow our parents always knew what we were up to, and by the time we got home and our punishments were waiting for us as usual. After a good whopping we usually had our dinner which was served outside while sitting on the stone heap, a good wash skin and bedtime would follow and there were no room for discussion.

I was extremely saddened when I learnt that we had to relocate to a different village. Our childhood adventures came to an end the night we packed our belongings into a truck and said our goodbyes to friends, families and all the fond memories that could never be duplicated or repeated.