Tony Hendricks, ContributorSometimes we just don't appreciate how lucky we are in the Caribbean. We inhabit a climatically warm region and along with the perennial luxury of sunshine, we also take for granted the fact that women wear less clothes, show more skin and allow us a greater awareness of their magnificent curves that cause a swelling in middle quarters (not to be confused with the village in St. Elizabeth where you get pepper shrimp and bammy).
In my travels, I notice that as the seasons change the nations that make up Europe and the extremes of North and South America have to wait for the metamorphosis that takes place in this quarter of the year. The moment the cocoon breaks, the change from caterpillar to butterfly, when women who spend all winter bundled up in deceptive shape-shielding garments suddenly shed all vestige of modesty and most of their kit to exchange frump for skimp.
It's at times like these that there are more car crashes, accidents at home and at sea than any other time of year as men crane necks, gawk, do double-takes, stall cars, drop kettles, hammer thumbs and lose control of their eyes and hands and lips and drool saliva down their fronts. We navigate boats into icebergs; jam junctions as traffic lights change from red and amber to green and back.
Inspiring beauty
We gaze in the haze of the sight of bouncy, lightly clad members of the fairer sex floating by like a cool breeze on a hot summers night. Spring has indeed sprung and as the sun comes out, changing grey to crystal, the spirits of all men rise along with heart rates, blood pressure and skirts and suddenly out springs woman. Such beauty inspires. No other subject can claim so much responsibility for so much art and folly as love. Lust ain't too far behind and what a nice behind it is too. The scent of a woman can turn a man fool in seconds. Giddiness, dry mouth, loss of appetite and a tendency for even the dourest of men to giggle are a sure sign that "ooman mad up him brain".
Unfortunately, the climate in Jamaica means half of us are undressed half the time. You often pass through more than simple country parts to see folk out and about with nothing on, bathing at a standpipe, in a waterfall, behind a house or in their yard. (It's not just me is it? I know I'm a bit of a voyeur, but surely I'm not alone).
If we could only benefit from just one chilly season in the Caribbean, three short months where we put on scarves, coats, boots and a hood over our head to keep the heat and not the beat, I swear we'd appreciate the women's beauty more. Instead, we yell and shout compliments at them. "Yow baby. Come here. Me want trouble you!", when in fact we're troubling them already. Things like that make the Taliban demand their women wear burkhas and cover everything but eyes. Mind you, I doubt even that could undermine a determined Jamaican. "Yow baby, you look like a terrorist? Come mek a frisk you!"
In politically correct Britain, where in the spring the upper lip is not the only thing that's stiff, if you so much as look at a lady too long it's tantamount to assault. In Germany and Austria, (where the tune we whistle was writ by Wolfgang Strauss; hence Wolf's Whistle) it is frowned upon to let a lady know how foxy she looks by blowing. Even if you spot a delicious damsel walking by and say nothing, make no noise at all, simply nod, smile and give her a knowing look of appreciation, people glare at you as if you groped her.
As much as I agree that outright bawling out how you're going to love the living daylights out of a girl is going too far it's ridiculous not least unfair, to deprive women of the knowledge that they have achieved a level of appeal that deserves appreciation. Surely if they dress to impress, then we should let them know it's worked. Whistle on I say, and let political correctness be damned, but rather than go to extremes, let's use those lyrics we Jamaican men are so capable of reciting to woo the ladies.
Tony Hendriks can be re-read at www.JamaicanPaleface. com or e-mailed and roundly chastised via JamaicanPaleface @aol.com.
