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this is from the gleaner... but I spotted the word <span style="font-weight: bold">brah</span>.. I havent heard that in decades!
It was a tranquil scene. Cows peacefully feasting on acres of green grass as a mild breeze rustled leaves of giant trees. This was pretty much all there was to see in Gimme-Me-Bit, Clarendon, when I found myself in the area last week. I was standing under one of those trees, wondering where all the residents were, when I heard a sound behind me.
"Eh hem."
I turned around to find a man holding a stick. He had dark skin and was wearing a pair of sunglasses, the kind that look like mirrors, so when you look him in the eyes, you're actually seeing yourself. Creepy.
I said hello.
"I see yuh long time, yuh know," he said, seeming annoyed.
"Yuh don't know yuh suppose to check wid me?"
I hesitated at first, thinking the man had mistaken me for someone else. Then, he went on.
"I in charge of di cow dem inna Gimme-Me-Bit. Anybody come around here must check wid me first." He patted his chest when he said this.
It turns out that the stick-wielding sunglasses-wearer goes by the name Dawkings, and is the self-proclaimed cow supervisor of the community.
Now, I have to say, I can scarcely recall meeting a man, in any profession, who takes his work as seriously as Dawkings does. You wouldn't know it just by looking at him, but the unassuming chap is quite the cow-herding genius.
"Is I alone know what time di cow dem must feed and for how long. If yuh don't know dat, yuh can't talk to me!" he said.
I told him that was an enviable talent indeed.
"Is true! Whole heap ah man seh dem know bout cow, but dem nuh know bout cow. Dem only hear bout cow," said Dawkings.
After that, he went completely silent and tilted his head slightly to the left. I was about to ask him something else, when he suddenly let out a loud whistle.
"Whoop!"
I looked behind him and saw a large brown cow break into a trot.
"Yuh see like dat now? Mi just know seh di cow dem ah get inna argument wid dem one anneda, so mi just let out di warning and dem know seh dem fi part," said Dawkings. If his explanation was an attempt to win some level of respect for his knowledge of cow behaviour, I have to say, he succeeded. I don't know if there was in fact a conflict brewing between cows, but the sound of the whistle did send that brown cow into a sprint. That alone was impressive.
"Anyway, I gone leave yuh. Mi have mi work fi go do," said Dawkings. He walked away, letting out another whistle.
I walked off as well, following a narrow dirt road until I got to a section of the community where there were a lot of houses. I saw an elderly woman, wearing a colourful dress with matching headwrap, sitting on a stool in front of what I assumed was a shop of sorts.
I walked over to her.
"Hello please?" she said. I introduced myself and asked her if she was from Gimme-Me-Bit.
"Yes, me is living here from mi ah lilly pickney," she said.
"Mi used to live into a place call Garlands, into St James, but dat was long time ago," she said, adding that her name was Alice.
I asked her if she had any idea how the community got its peculiar name.
"How mi must know dat son? Remember yuh know, dem place name from long time. Long before me born. People always want to know how di place get it name, but mi tell dem not to worry about dat. It name what it suppose to name," said Alice.
She dipped her right hand into a small pocket of her dress and pulled out a red rag. She used it to wipe away a trickle of sweat that had started running down her nose.
<span style="font-weight: bold">"Sun hot, brah!" she exclaimed.</span>
I asked her if the community was often as quiet as it was that day.
"Yes yuh know. Gimme-Me-Bit get quiet now, for di people dem who used to live here, dem gone. Is only few people still live here and dem scatter all bout," she said.
"Mi like it though. Too much people mean too much badderation. Mi prefer to live into peace and quiet. Mi alright wid how it stay," said Alice.
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It was a tranquil scene. Cows peacefully feasting on acres of green grass as a mild breeze rustled leaves of giant trees. This was pretty much all there was to see in Gimme-Me-Bit, Clarendon, when I found myself in the area last week. I was standing under one of those trees, wondering where all the residents were, when I heard a sound behind me.
"Eh hem."
I turned around to find a man holding a stick. He had dark skin and was wearing a pair of sunglasses, the kind that look like mirrors, so when you look him in the eyes, you're actually seeing yourself. Creepy.
I said hello.
"I see yuh long time, yuh know," he said, seeming annoyed.
"Yuh don't know yuh suppose to check wid me?"
I hesitated at first, thinking the man had mistaken me for someone else. Then, he went on.
"I in charge of di cow dem inna Gimme-Me-Bit. Anybody come around here must check wid me first." He patted his chest when he said this.
It turns out that the stick-wielding sunglasses-wearer goes by the name Dawkings, and is the self-proclaimed cow supervisor of the community.
Now, I have to say, I can scarcely recall meeting a man, in any profession, who takes his work as seriously as Dawkings does. You wouldn't know it just by looking at him, but the unassuming chap is quite the cow-herding genius.
"Is I alone know what time di cow dem must feed and for how long. If yuh don't know dat, yuh can't talk to me!" he said.
I told him that was an enviable talent indeed.
"Is true! Whole heap ah man seh dem know bout cow, but dem nuh know bout cow. Dem only hear bout cow," said Dawkings.
After that, he went completely silent and tilted his head slightly to the left. I was about to ask him something else, when he suddenly let out a loud whistle.
"Whoop!"
I looked behind him and saw a large brown cow break into a trot.
"Yuh see like dat now? Mi just know seh di cow dem ah get inna argument wid dem one anneda, so mi just let out di warning and dem know seh dem fi part," said Dawkings. If his explanation was an attempt to win some level of respect for his knowledge of cow behaviour, I have to say, he succeeded. I don't know if there was in fact a conflict brewing between cows, but the sound of the whistle did send that brown cow into a sprint. That alone was impressive.
"Anyway, I gone leave yuh. Mi have mi work fi go do," said Dawkings. He walked away, letting out another whistle.
I walked off as well, following a narrow dirt road until I got to a section of the community where there were a lot of houses. I saw an elderly woman, wearing a colourful dress with matching headwrap, sitting on a stool in front of what I assumed was a shop of sorts.
I walked over to her.
"Hello please?" she said. I introduced myself and asked her if she was from Gimme-Me-Bit.
"Yes, me is living here from mi ah lilly pickney," she said.
"Mi used to live into a place call Garlands, into St James, but dat was long time ago," she said, adding that her name was Alice.
I asked her if she had any idea how the community got its peculiar name.
"How mi must know dat son? Remember yuh know, dem place name from long time. Long before me born. People always want to know how di place get it name, but mi tell dem not to worry about dat. It name what it suppose to name," said Alice.
She dipped her right hand into a small pocket of her dress and pulled out a red rag. She used it to wipe away a trickle of sweat that had started running down her nose.
<span style="font-weight: bold">"Sun hot, brah!" she exclaimed.</span>
I asked her if the community was often as quiet as it was that day.
"Yes yuh know. Gimme-Me-Bit get quiet now, for di people dem who used to live here, dem gone. Is only few people still live here and dem scatter all bout," she said.
"Mi like it though. Too much people mean too much badderation. Mi prefer to live into peace and quiet. Mi alright wid how it stay," said Alice.
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