Robert Lalah, Staff Reporter
Left: An old school signpost if ever there was one. Right: Many residents use donkeys to carry water to their homes. After all, there's no running water. - PHOTOS BY NORMAN GRINDLEY/DEPUTY CHIEF PHOTOGRAPHER
SO HERE'S the scoop on Rhoden Hall in St. Ann as told to me by residents about a week ago. Sonia is convinced that someone stole her cellphone, even though she doesn't remember where she had it last or how long ago it went missing. Her neighbours are convinced that the only thing she has lost is her mind, and are trying to discourage her from going ahead with her plans to call the local television stations to, as she put it "mek di dutty tief dem know mi a come fi dem".
Meanwhile, Winston, the yam farmer, is getting a bit tired of carrying water on his head to use in his field and is seriously considering running some pipes to make life easier. But that kind of highfalutin thinking only got him laughed at.
Rhoden Hall is a little place in St. Ann where there still is no running water and where everyone still knows each other's name. Never heard of Rhoden Hall? Well, maybe you know it by its more well known title, Nine Miles. Yes, its the very same Nine Miles where reggae legend Bob Marley once ran around in diapers. When he was a baby, of course.
RHODEN HALL HAPPENINGS
Someone told me that about 500 tourists from places I've never even heard of, visit the community everyday. That just blew me away. I mean to think that people still flock to this tiny place just to feel closer to the reggae star. Then I started wondering about the other people who live in Nine Miles. I mean, what's their story? Everyone associates the name of the community with the deceased singer, and you really never hear anything about the people who live there now. So that was the intention when photographer Norman Grindley and I set out for Nine Miles. We wanted to find out what else was happening in the community other than tourists visiting the Marley mausoleum.
Note to self: Next time you think of going to Nine Miles, don't have such a big breakfast, you'll regret it.
It's such a winding road, I almost got dizzy, twice. We passed places like Prickle Pole and St. Ann's Bay.
Eventually, we got there; it must have been about midday. The first thing we came across that hinted to us that we were in Nine Miles, was a huge sign painted on a wall that read 'You are now in Nine Miles'. I guess it might have been more than a hint.
A burly, dark-skinned man sporting a huge gold chain around his neck and even more gold in his mouth, was standing next to a large concrete wall. Just above the wall was a sign that read 'Bob Marley Mausoleum'. We parked the van and hopped out. By the way, the air up there in the hills is like heaven to the lungs. Although there was a hint of a certain potent ... ah ... bush in the air. But I guess that was to be expected.
"Need a tour mon?" inquired the bejewelled bloke. When we responded with: "No bredrin, we jus' a pass through," the man's dialect made a snap adjustment and he said "Oh zeen mi bredda."
SOCIAL SONIA
He gave his name as Donald, and seemed quite confused when we told him we weren't there to visit the Bob Marley mausoleum, but instead wanted to find out about the community. "Mi ah ... you sure you nuh want a tour?" he asked with a most puzzled look on his face.
Eventually, Donald came around and told us that the townspeople really were largely ignored. "Nothing much happen around here. Everything really quiet still. Everybody just take it easy,".
We bid the man farewell and went down a slope to meet a few people we saw standing together.
It was here that we met the very vocal Sonia. She is a dark-skinned woman of medium build. She was wearing a blue and white dress and sitting between two men with strikingly muddy shoes.
"You want to know about Nine Miles? A dutty tief move wid mi phone and him ago pay fi it. Mi ago work pan dem till dem bring back mi phone!" Sonia's monologue brought her companions to a hearty chuckle. But with one mean glance, the irate woman silenced her hecklers.
"Is $3,000 mi pay fi mi phone and mi a go get it back!" she said.
While Sonia sat mumbling something about a certain bush she was going to use to get back at the phone thief, the men around her said there wasn't much to Nine Miles other than its link to the reggae legend. "Bwoy it quiet still. I guess that good 'cause the people live loving still. But if you want likkle enjoyment you haffi go somewhere else," said Milton who wore dark sunglasses in the shade.
We were told that most of the persons in the community were farmers and enjoyed a quiet, simple life.
There were a lot of children running around and tour buses kept entering and leaving the mausoleum. In fact, for the few hours we were in the community, about 15 buses full of caucasion finger pointers in tie-and-dye ensembles came and went. Curious bunch.
Left: Neighbourhood children wait anxiously for the first sign of tourists.
Right: Tourists have a chat with locals in the heart of the community. - PHOTOS BY NORMAN GRINDLEY/DEPUTY CHIEF PHOTOGRAPHER
We noticed a few persons standing casually along the roadway that leads to the mausoleum. Someone told us to keep an eye on them and we would find out how most of the residents survive. We did this for a while, but nothing happened. Suddenly, someone shouted "Tourist a come!" and it was like a fox hunt had been heralded.
Children came out of every corner of the community, some with plates of food still in their hands and ran in the direction from which the shout came. Two chubby white women wearing Bob Marley t-shirts and a boy in a red, green and gold shirt and hat were making their way slowly up the hill. They had wide smiles on their faces and seemed happy to be greeted by the crowd of locals.
DONALD'S SERIOUS PROBLEM
One wrinkled man gave the official welcome. "Hello mon. Wecome to Bab Morley town. If you want a smoke we gots it for you. If you want a drink, we gots that too. Let us know, anything you needs. Make sure you know we is here to please," said he, to the tourists who didn't seem to understand a word.
As we were watching this painful display, a man wearing boots and carrying a machete approached us. "Hello please, what you doing please?" he inquired timidly.
We found out his name was Winston, a proud yam farmer. He said he enjoyed the easy-going lifestyle of Nine Miles, but said he had a serious problem. "Bwoy mi tired fi carry water. Mi back tired now. Plus di likkle donkey mi have a get old, suh mi think mi a go try line up some pipe fi miself," he said, using his hands to shield his eyes from the sun.
We also met Sharon who works in a bar across from the mausoleum. She said that if people wanted to know about the real Nine Miles, all they had to do was visit. "We all love when people visit. Everybody welcome and everybody safe," she said.
So our time in the famous community came to an end all too quickly. We had such a good time and realised that there was so much more to Nine Miles than people realise.
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