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<span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="font-size: 17pt"><span style="color: #FF0000">The 'gote' head soup-selling Rasta</span></span></span>
Published: Thursday | February 5, 2009
<span style="font-family: 'Impact'">Robert Lalah - Gleaner Staff Writer</span>
Now, who would have thought that the scary-looking straggler with the manicured eyebrows, whom I met walking into Coronation Market earlier this week, would not have been the most memorable character I would meet on that day?
He was a sight to behold, to be sure, but even his abnormally pink face and the contrast it made with his dark arms were nothing when compared with Ralston, the soup vendor.
So, Ralston bumped into me with his pushcart, just as I was walking into the already crowded market. The smells of urine and oranges were rife, so I knew I was in the right place.
"Oy man Rasta!" he yelled.
"Look weh di I ah go, for di soup hat."
I was surprised by his pronouncement, especially because, as far as I could tell, he was the one who had bumped into me.
Foolishness
<span style="font-weight: bold">"Buy one cup ah soup from I," he said. I told him I wasn't interested in having soup.
"Foolishness!" the man hollered.</span>
Now he was getting animated and his dreadlocks left the confines of his tam. His eyes were bright.
I hadn't noticed before that he was sporting dreadlocks and now <span style="font-weight: bold">thought it curious that he would have been selling what, according to the sign on his cart, was goat (spelt 'gote') head soup.
Out of sheer curiosity, I asked him what kind of soup he was peddling.</span> 
(im nuh easy yuh see)
'Look yah man'
"Di realest goat head soup yuh ever taste inna yuh life!" he said, pulling a cup from a bag. He lifted the lid from the pot, giving rise to steam that went right to my eyes.
I told him again that I wasn't interested in the soup, but he didn't seem to hear me. He started pouring the soup into the cup. I finally realised that I had to be more assertive in order to get the man's attention.
I believe I bellowed something along the lines of: "Look yah man! Mi seh mi nuh want none!"
There was an awkward moment of silence as the man looked me over while holding the now soup-filled cup.
"Den wah mek yuh ah waste man time far? Ef yuh did ah go change yuh mind, yuh shoulda tell mi!" Ralston said, now more contrite.
Money argument
I realised that this was getting nowhere, so I changed the subject by asking him if he had been selling in the market for a long time.
"Well, yuh know Rasta, I did really ah sell inna New Kingston, but true me and a bwoy kick off over some likkle money argument, <span style="font-weight: bold">I nuh too trod it go up deh so again</span>," he said. (it sweet when J'can go fi spoke)
<span style="font-weight: bold">I asked him if he was a Rastaman.
"Yes I," he said. I glanced at the pot of soup and then back at him.</span> (woiii) I was about to ask him another question when he looked over his shoulder and then turned back at me.
"Here yah! I nuh have nuh time fi waste wid yuh, I ah go mek a sale," he said and pushed off, with his cart squeaking all the way.
Published: Thursday | February 5, 2009
<span style="font-family: 'Impact'">Robert Lalah - Gleaner Staff Writer</span>
Now, who would have thought that the scary-looking straggler with the manicured eyebrows, whom I met walking into Coronation Market earlier this week, would not have been the most memorable character I would meet on that day?
He was a sight to behold, to be sure, but even his abnormally pink face and the contrast it made with his dark arms were nothing when compared with Ralston, the soup vendor.
So, Ralston bumped into me with his pushcart, just as I was walking into the already crowded market. The smells of urine and oranges were rife, so I knew I was in the right place.
"Oy man Rasta!" he yelled.
"Look weh di I ah go, for di soup hat."
I was surprised by his pronouncement, especially because, as far as I could tell, he was the one who had bumped into me.
Foolishness
<span style="font-weight: bold">"Buy one cup ah soup from I," he said. I told him I wasn't interested in having soup.
"Foolishness!" the man hollered.</span>
Now he was getting animated and his dreadlocks left the confines of his tam. His eyes were bright.
I hadn't noticed before that he was sporting dreadlocks and now <span style="font-weight: bold">thought it curious that he would have been selling what, according to the sign on his cart, was goat (spelt 'gote') head soup.
Out of sheer curiosity, I asked him what kind of soup he was peddling.</span>
(im nuh easy yuh see) 'Look yah man'
"Di realest goat head soup yuh ever taste inna yuh life!" he said, pulling a cup from a bag. He lifted the lid from the pot, giving rise to steam that went right to my eyes.
I told him again that I wasn't interested in the soup, but he didn't seem to hear me. He started pouring the soup into the cup. I finally realised that I had to be more assertive in order to get the man's attention.
I believe I bellowed something along the lines of: "Look yah man! Mi seh mi nuh want none!"
There was an awkward moment of silence as the man looked me over while holding the now soup-filled cup.
"Den wah mek yuh ah waste man time far? Ef yuh did ah go change yuh mind, yuh shoulda tell mi!" Ralston said, now more contrite.
Money argument
I realised that this was getting nowhere, so I changed the subject by asking him if he had been selling in the market for a long time.
"Well, yuh know Rasta, I did really ah sell inna New Kingston, but true me and a bwoy kick off over some likkle money argument, <span style="font-weight: bold">I nuh too trod it go up deh so again</span>," he said. (it sweet when J'can go fi spoke)
<span style="font-weight: bold">I asked him if he was a Rastaman.
"Yes I," he said. I glanced at the pot of soup and then back at him.</span>
(woiii) I was about to ask him another question when he looked over his shoulder and then turned back at me."Here yah! I nuh have nuh time fi waste wid yuh, I ah go mek a sale," he said and pushed off, with his cart squeaking all the way.
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