Negril - Pics, Pics, and more Pics

**Marilyn** · 09-25-2003, 02:36 PM

Re: Negril - Pics, Pics, and more Pics

Scottie
Highlight your entire story wherever you have it an click copy on your mouse. Then go over on Discover board and find any one of Vi's posts. SHe has a real long trip report over there. Click on her PM icon and then paste your story into the box and then click on send PM. She will love it.

Oh lord, I forgot the wife had had three sons too. Hey I run 6 miles every morning, guess it must be the Jamaican ancestry.

**sammy** · 09-25-2003, 02:45 PM

Re: Negril - Pics, Pics, and more Pics

scottie

just post it here.....then you won't have the hassle of pming folks and such

we don't mind reading it again..it's a wonderful story

**Scottie** · 09-25-2003, 03:19 PM

Re: Negril - Pics, Pics, and more Pics

Originally posted by sammy:
[qb] scottie

just post it here.....then you won't have the hassle of pming folks and such

we don't mind reading it again..it's a wonderful story [/qb]

Negril Story
(This is a true story of how Beverley and I met)

For Beverley, 1974 was a year she would never completely overcome. From a love filled and joyous childhood growing up in rural Westmoreland, Jamaica, to the sudden traumatic experience of her mother dying in her arms from heat stroke, the rhythm of life was about to change dramatically for this little 10 year old girl. Her father, taking sick soon after her mother’s death, propelled the family into abject poverty. And as the years began to pass, while her friends went out to play, she found herself caring for her sick father, washing and ironing clothes, cooking, sweeping and cleaning their tiny little house with no electricity or water, which had now become more of a prison than a home.

And during those days, she often cried.

She cried because her father had become unable to work, and, as she would drink her morning tea, she cried out of hunger because sometimes that tea would be her only food for days at a time. She cried because she could not understand how a life, like this, could be worth living.

But most of all, she cried because she wanted and so desperately missed her mother.

Her father begged her to keep her faith in the Lord Jesus; yet, she could not understand how the Lord could be so cruel to an innocent little girl. Yet still, she obeyed her father. Holding ever so tightly to what little faith she could manage. As the tears would fall, she prayed that someday, somehow, a better life would find her.

By 1983, Scott had left college, and was pursuing what he loved most: Reggae music. Playing guitar in a band, backing up a singer from Kingston, he realized he was playing music from a country he had never been to, and he wanted to have a better understanding of Jamaican culture. So he bought a used guitar and amp to give away to any aspiring musician he might meet, and headed to Jamaica.

Though by 1983, little had changed for Berverley. In fact, things only had gotten worse. By December of that year, she had given birth to a baby boy, but the boy's father refused to support them and again, she would cry, because she felt so disillusioned and alone.

By the spring of 1986, she was becoming desperate. Her father had recovered enough to plant and tend some yam in their yard, but with a small child, life, for her only seemed to be one struggle after another.

An older woman next door to her, named Daphne, had for years, traveled to Negril to sell orange juice and banana bread to the tourists on the beach in Negril. She asked Daphne if she could accompany her to the beach and after months of prodding, Daphne reluctantly agreed. So Beverley borrowed enough money to buy a sack of oranges, squeezed them into rum bottles, went to the bush, cut some aloe, and headed for Negril. By the end of her first week in Negril, Beverley had sold all her goods and she had more money than she had seen in an entire year. She bought a stove so she wouldn't have to cook over a wood fire anymore, a brand new outfit for her son and a radio for her father. She even bought herself a new pair of shoes.

The second week on the beach was a little slower for her as it was getting closer to Easter and "season" was coming to an end. On Wednesday morning of that week, as they waited to sell their goods, while seeking shade under a coconut tree, Daphne called out to a man walking up the beach. She said she recognized him from the previous year but couldn’t remember his name. He replied "yes", he had been coming to Jamaica for three years now and “yes”, he also remembered her from his last trip. He then reminded her that his name was Scott.

As Daphne went out to greet Scott, Beverley followed behind. Daphne introduced Beverley and as they met, she asked him if he would like to buy some orange juice. But he declined, saying he had already bought some, and proceeded to make his way up the beach. As he left, he added that if he saw her on his way back, perhaps he would help her out and buy a few things. By the end of the afternoon, Daphne suggested they should head home for the day, as business had died and tomorrow would be another day. Beverley agreed.

At that same time, Beverley noticed Scott walking toward her on his return from up the beach. He smiled and said he wanted to be true to his word and would now buy some of her orange juice. And even though she had sold all that she had, they talked for a few minutes until it was time for her and Daphne to catch their bus back to the country.

As they left to catch their bus, he told her that if he should be up that way tomorrow, he would stop again.

So it was, the next morning. He stopped and they talked for about an hour. The next day he spent a little more time, and by the week’s end he was bringing her mangoes, because she had told him that mango was her favorite fruit. And they would have lunch from the Fisherman's Club and sit underneath the coconut tree in the front of the vacant piece of land where now stands Negril Gardens. As the afternoon would pass, they would watch the fisherman in their tiny boats come onto shore with their fresh catch while the tourists played volleyball on the beach in front of the vacant lot next to Alfred’s. And she would eat a mango and peel him an orange, and they would talk. And talk.

They talked about life. They talked about culture. They talked about how different, yet how much they were alike.

But a lot of the time, they simply sat and looked out over the sea, enjoying each others presence, with a soft, soothing breeze blowing in their face.

At times she would suddenly get up and disappear into the bush and he wondered if he had said something to offend her, however, she would later explain that she had to hide from the police, for they could not catch her selling goods on the beach. And he would ask her if she would like to go out at night to a show, but she always made up an excuse. For at the time he did not understand that if she went out with him at night, people would talk because back then, only prostitutes would be out with a white man at night.

When it came time to leave the island, he asked her for her address so he could write, and she gave it to him. And as he said goodbye, he told her he would be back in August for Sunsplash, though she feared that she would never hear from him again.

As he sat in the plane, waiting to take off, he stared out at the hills surrounding Montego Bay, and a million thoughts raced through his mind. The most dominant thought was sometimes the most precious things in life find you when you least expect them. And as the plane lifted off, he realized he needed to return to Jamaica as soon as possible.

Within a week he was back in Negril. Walking up the beach to look for her but she was nowhere to be found. And for three days he returned to the same spot under the coconut tree, where she would peel him oranges and eat mango, where the fisherman would bring their tiny boats to shore with their fresh catch, and where the tourists played volleyball, but still he would not find her.

On the fourth day, depressed and dejected, he thought about returning back to the States. Refusing to believe that fate was about to deal him a losing hand, he turned back to walk one last time past that magical spot. It was then that he spotted Daphne selling her goods. She explained that because "Season" had ended, Beverley was not coming down from country anymore, but she had come down for one last time because she had some extra oranges.

Scott explained to Daphne that he needed to see Beverley, so Daphne told him she would take him up to the country. He had never been to the areas outside of Negril, and he wondered to himself whether or not he should go. But he felt he had to go, so they caught a taxi and headed for the country.

As they traveled past miles of cane fields and made their way up into the hills, he wondered, where he was going, and would he be safe. He did not see any white people and he wondered if something happened to him, how would anyone ever know. But most of all, he wondered if Beverley would be there and would she be happy to see him.

When they reached her yard, Daphne took him behind a rickety little house badly in need of repair. As he rounded the corner of the house, his heart started racing and he felt week in his knees. He was excited. He was nervous. He was a little bit afraid. But there she was, making some tea on a brand new stove, and when she turned around and recognized him, her face lit up with a beautiful smile, and she walked over to him and in disbelief, took his hand, and offered him a seat on the doorstep.

As he looked around the yard, he saw a way of life far removed from the pristine beach of Negril. Could anyone live in such a battered old house? A kitchen in the open air of the back yard? A 55-gallon drum filled with water funneled from off the roof? A little bucket of water behind a few pieces of zinc to serve as a shower? A humbled feeling came over him as he sat on that doorstep, now surrounded by an endless stream of neighborhood children coming to see just what this white man was up to.

And as he looked out past some banana trees he saw an elderly man walking toward him from a garden. He was frail, and arthritic. His face showing the effects of years in the hot sun. Then, outright fear gripped him as he noticed this man walking towards him was carrying a machete.

He smiled at the man, but the man did not smile back and for an instance, it seemed as though his life flashed before his eyes as he remembered his thoughts in the taxi about disappearing and no one ever knowing. And, as the elderly man took a step passed him, he turned, smiled, and said, "forgive me. “That was not very nice to pass by you and not introduce myself." He introduced himself as Brother Wood, said he was her father, and was very pleased to meet him.

In that same year, Scott made five more trips to Jamaica to see Beverley. She told him she always dreamed of becoming a dressmaker so he bought her a sewing machine and she started taking classes. And she never returned to the beach to sell her goods, instead, choosing to stay in the country, learning to sew and sell a few dresses. And they would write each other letters weekly and he would send some money so she could take care of her father and her son. And sometimes she would call him from a payphone at the Town Square.

Then in 1988, Hurricane Gilbert struck the island. As he watched the devastation on the news in the States, for twelve days he had no way of knowing if she had survived, or if her family was okay. So as soon as they cleared the airport he flew down to find her. But before he left, he scraped up all the money he could and bought a small diamond ring.

When he found her, he put the ring on her finger and her face lit up with a beautiful smile, and they hugged each other as tight as they could stand. That was in September of 1988. By March of 1989, they were married up in the country. And the goats wandered outside the church, and the cows were mooing during the ceremony, and the sun was shining. It was the happiest day of his life.

She arrived in Miami in April, became pregnant in May, and gave birth to his son (Isaiah) the following February. It was the second happiest day of his life. And with another son (Jordan), along with her son (Jerome), the five of them now make their home in the Florida Keys. Soon a time will come when they'll send their children off to college.

And on some land that they bought in Negril a few years back, which sits high atop a hill overlooking Long Bay, they plan to build a house. A house with a verandah, where they will sit and look out over the sea and the spot where they first met, enjoying each other’s presence, while feeling the soft, soothing breeze in their face.

**Ochigal** · 09-25-2003, 03:30 PM

Re: Negril - Pics, Pics, and more Pics

sign....sniff sniff....

I remember reading that story now a few years ago...But I could read it over and over and over. Scottie you have truley been blessed!

**Scottie** · 09-25-2003, 03:37 PM

Re: Negril - Pics, Pics, and more Pics

**Nanook** · 09-25-2003, 03:46 PM

Re: Negril - Pics, Pics, and more Pics

Scottie, your family is BEAUTIFUL!

I loved the falls pics too. I was there once but no way was I gonna go in there, there had to be a hundred busses and taxis in the parking lot. I'll go back someday, like when they first open in the morning or something! Thanks alot for sharing!!!

**Scottie** · 09-25-2003, 03:50 PM

Re: Negril - Pics, Pics, and more Pics

One of our favorite places to eat is Sweet Spice. I work in a restaurant (The Fish House in Key Largo so come visit me ya hear!) and I am very very picky about where I eat.

I don't like to eat IN restaurants either, so most times we just go to the take out counter and order. Most nights you'll find Andrea or Garfield there. They are wonderful people.

I know there are lots of good places to eat in Negril, but if ANY place is not doing a turnover of customers, the food is not gonna be good. What's great about Sweet Spice is it is ALWAYS packed, no matter what time of year. That's the kind of place I like. It's where you'll find lots of Jamaican's eating cause the price is right.

**Classy** · 09-25-2003, 04:00 PM

Re: Negril - Pics, Pics, and more Pics

I LOVE Sweet Spice, especially the garlic conch and brown stew conch

**Scottie** · 09-25-2003, 04:21 PM

Re: Negril - Pics, Pics, and more Pics

Originally posted by Pepper:
[qb] Hey Scottie (2sxxee),

Nice pictures. Thanks for sharing. You have a lovely family.

How are your mango trees doing? [/qb]

((((PEPPA)))) wha gwaan!!! [img]/forums/images/graemlins/wink.gif[/img]

Oh Lord, don't get me started on my mango trees in this thread...well...since you asked...

My mangoes are hurtin' fo sho!!! I have planted no less than 15 Mangoes in that yard and all but three have died and those are in a struggle. You name it, I've planted it...Stringy, Julie, East Indian, Floragon, Kerry, Haden, Tommy Atkins....All dead [img]/forums/images/graemlins/mad.gif[/img]

My wife love Mango and I swear she'd trade me in for just one tree that don't die.

Everything else I grow is doing great but those damn mangoes have me stumped [img]/forums/images/graemlins/70361-embarassed.gif[/img] [img]/forums/images/graemlins/confused.gif[/img]

See my Cane....(behind the truck along the fence)

So ya'll are invited to my house...

...down here in Key Largo. And if ya get lost, just look for the truck with the license plate...

which is a tribute to that nice person who used that display name and passed away a while back. I use to love seeing that name cause we all (most of us at least) are always trying (at least in our minds) to go back "2 Negril".

Anyway...back to the pics...or...Mangoes...or, whatever...

**Scottie** · 09-25-2003, 04:51 PM

Re: Negril - Pics, Pics, and more Pics

Okay Pepper, like I said, I still have 3 but they are in a real struggle. One is a Graham and one is a Keitt (foreground)

The other is an Asian variety called a Nam Doc Mai (next to the Plantain) It's doing the best.

But what it is with these damn

trees, I don't know. Everything else is growin fine. Pineapples...Lakatan Banana (for boiling)

Gross Michelle Banana (betta than chiquita)...

Honey Banana...

Sweetsop...

Soursop...

**Scottie** · 09-25-2003, 04:54 PM

Re: Negril - Pics, Pics, and more Pics

and see all the Ackee Trees in the pots? I have more Ackee than I know what to do with...

Still, I can't grow no damn MANGO!!! [img]/forums/images/graemlins/frown.gif[/img]

Seriously though, you and all the South Florida Ja.com massive are welcome to come down and take some cane, banana, plantain, or ackee trees back with ya...

Opps...

now back to Negril...

**Rose** · 09-25-2003, 05:01 PM

Re: Negril - Pics, Pics, and more Pics

Wonderful pictures Scottie! Thanks for sharing them. Your tribute to 2Negril brought a smile to my face too..such a kind man and much missed still I'm sure.

**Guest** · 09-25-2003, 05:04 PM

Re: Negril - Pics, Pics, and more Pics

The trees and house are beautiful. [img]/forums/images/graemlins/cool.gif[/img]

**Sinco01** · 09-25-2003, 05:12 PM

Re: Negril - Pics, Pics, and more Pics

Thanks Scottie..
nice to finally meet the family...
I think I can honestly say you all look like very beeeeyyyouuuutifull peoples [img]/forums/images/graemlins/wink.gif[/img]

thanks for sharing

**sammy** · 09-25-2003, 05:40 PM

Re: Negril - Pics, Pics, and more Pics

OHHHH scottie what a wonderful wonderful story....it just brings tears to my eyes everytime i read it!

for all those nay sayers....about finding love in jamaica...just read this story!

bravo bravo

thank you for re posting this...it's always a treat

Negril - Pics, Pics, and more Pics

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