Robert Lalah, Staff Reporter
Left: Miss Iona chats up a storm without missing a beat with her peas. Right: Miss Cathy strikes a pose, showing off her rather firm-looking yams.
NOW THERE are a few lessons in life that you just never forget. Like I learned the hard way to never be honest if a girl asks if she looks fat. An even more memorable lesson came one rainy evening when I was but an unsuspecting lad.
I allowed a ticked off ex-girlfriend to cook me dinner. She said she wanted to end the relationship on good terms, so I went ahead with the plan. A violent bout of illness that left me incapacitated for a week and a half after that, taught me something. The lesson there: Never upset anyone who has your food within their reach.
Since then, I have been a bit meticulous about the way my meals are prepared. So I started thinking. How much do we really know about the people we get our food from? I mean, do we ever even take the time to stop and chat with the people we buy our food from? Angry ex-girlfriends aside, I think that if we did more things like that, then the world would be a much friendlier place.
IMMORTALISED
Now a fine place to start this new resolve to get to know the people we too often ignore, is the market. The Linstead Market in St. Catherine, perhaps. Yes, the same Linstead Market that's been immortalised in the popular Jamaican folk song, "Carry mi ackee go a Linstead Market". Or something like that.
So there we went one sunny afternoon. Myself and photographer Norman Grindley.
Now when we got there, the market day activities were just picking up steam. There were shoppers taking hurried steps while struggling with bulging bags of produce; hat-wearing market women asking passersby, "What you want to buy please?", and even the odd straggler making inappropriate overtures to bouncing young women. But that's understandable.
We entered the market and took a whiff of that unique market smell. A cross between ripe bananas and sweat.
WALKED AROUND
We walked around and were offered everything from yams to cucumbers. "Is what you is doing please?" a voice behind me inquired. I turned around to face a middle-aged woman bent over behind a stall packed with rolls of tissue and bars of soap.
I told her what we were up to. "Oh come with me man. I going to carry you to somebody who can tell you bout market life. She deh here long time," the red-eyed woman said.
We followed her around a corner and realised that we were heading toward a portly old woman propped behind a packed wooden stall. She wore a floral hat, a yellow blouse and the customary market woman apron.
When she realised we were walking towards her, the woman's facial expression took a turn for the worse.
Our escort greeted the woman. "Miss Cathy, these gentlemans want to talk to you about Linstead Market and about yourself."
LAUGHTER
"No, I don't know nothing," Miss Cathy said, shaking her head with closed eyes. Our escort rebutted. "Stop act fool fool. You deh yah round tutty year now!"
"Yes, mi deh yah tutty year, but mi nuh know nothing," Miss Cathy retorted, still shaking her head.
The group of us laughed and Miss Cathy opened one eye to look us up and down.
"Mi is not a born yah. Mi is not a born yah, so mi nuh know di place too good. I am a Clarendonian," she said.
But eventually after a few sweet words, the woman warmed up and started to talk about herself.
"Mi is a woman who like discipline. I make sure that my place run good. Just before you come here, a young bwoy buy a banana from me and eat it. When him done him just drop the skin on di floor." Miss Cathy looked at me with a 'can you believe that' expression. I pretended to be disgusted.
"Mi tek mi umbrella and jook him inna him side and seh bwoy pick up di sinting! Suppose you make somebody fall? Di bwoy pick up di skin and gallop off!" the woman said, reaching for her umbrella to demonstrate.
"No, that's all right," I said, taking a step back.
Miss Cathy said she enjoyed the Linstead Market more than any other because, according to her, the people are not as aggressive as they are in other parts of the country.
Her children are all grown up and have migrated. Miss Cathy was really comfortable with us now. She was in mid sentence when she realised that Mr. Grindley was about to take a photo of her. The woman stopped and struck a pose that rivalled any European fashion model.
She arched her back and placed one hand on a coconut. Much to the delight of her fellow market sellers. "Gwaan Cathy, gwaan! He He!" shouted her hecklers.
Across from Miss Cathy, we met Miss Iona, who was sitting quietly shelling peas with a smile on her face. Now a more pleasant woman it would be hard to find. The smile on her face seemed fixed in place.
PROUD MARKET VENDOR
Miss Iona is a soft-spoken widow who has been a proud market vendor for as long as she can remember. She has worked at the Coronation Market in Kingston and in a few rural towns across the island. But in the Linstead Market she has found her home.
"When I am here, I am just comfortable. I love the people and they love me,' she said.
The woman sends off each customer with a message: "Have a beautiful day!"
The 69-year-old Miss Cathy, who lives in the hills of St. Catherine, loves her children more than anything in this world. She spoke about them with a gleam in her eye.
"All of them are big people now and live abroad. My son carry me all over America when I visit him. I go to Florida, New York and Carolina," she said. Miss Iona said her children always tell her she should give up the market life. "But I don't want to do that. God will guide me. Is market selling provide for all of them and make them into what they are now. I cannot just sit down. I will just gwaan until I can't go anymore. God will always lead me where he wants me," she said.
So there you have it. Just a bit of two of the faithful market women most of us only glance at when we go shopping. Next time you head out to the Linstead Market, why not stop and have a chat? I know I will.
Note: To Miss Adina's big daughter: Come on! That must have weighed more than a pound!
We would like your views on this article. Send your comments of 250 words or less to robert.lalah@gleanerjm.com.
