Hartley Neita

There was a time, many years ago, when I knew every town and village in Jamaica. Literally.

As a member of the staff of the Government Public Relations Department and Jamaica Information Service, I attended the official opening of scores of postal agencies, branches of the Government Savings Bank at post offices, elementary and secondary schools, housing schemes, health centres and other development facilities provided to communities all over the island by Government.

The roads then were narrow and winding. Most were not asphalted and were covered with marl and stone. Outside of Kingston, Ocho Rios and Montego Bay there were no recommendable restaurants so we carried lunch boxes of sandwiches from our homes.

In driving through Jamaica then, the villages and towns were separated by miles and acres of forest, cattle and banana farms, and grassland. Now and then in these areas, there was the lone wattle-and-daub house of a peasant or small farmer. In the vast majority of the villages, there was no piped domestic water, and scores of children and adults, barefooted, carried water in kerosene oil tins on their heads for domestic purposes.

Now, one of my pleasures today, is to have my children drive me when I wish to travel out of Kingston. They are constantly on the road and know the potholes and the short-cuts. Cars today are more silent, more powerful and more comfortable. They are air-conditioned and there is no need for a vent to guide air from outside and into the car. Cars also have radios, tape decks and CD players to provide music and information.

To travel now is to enjoy

So needing to go to Montego Bay last weekend, my eldest daughter offered to be my chauffeur. I had not been to Montego Bay for years and so the journey was new and refreshing. As I passed each town sign's name, I remembered what was a village a long time ago. Walks Road at the outskirt of Spanish Town was once one mile of homes far apart. Now, the homes are crowded on each side by shops and other business places.

From there to Ocho Rios, the road was an easy drive. It is still rural. Small farmers walk the road with their herds of goats. We passed a donkey cart piled high with crocus bags. I hoped the bags did not have the forbidden plant.

From Ocho Rios to Montego Bay was a new experience. The new North Coast highway is half finished. All along the route were new hotels and houses. Runaway Bay is no longer a village. It now stretches a mile from the east before reaching the former village centre, and a mile to the west.

So, too, is Discovery Bay. We passed the Kaiser Dome, which had the same bad luck during construction, as the new hotel at Pear Tree Bottom is experiencing. Reason for the Dome's collapse was that a rooster had not been killed at the site. The same reason for the hotel's problems is being circulated.

Montego Bay is not the same village I knew as a child. It is now full of hustle and bustle. Gloucester Avenue, from the former Sunset Lodge (if the name has not changed), to Wexford Court, is now lined with night and day-time clubs, shops, restaurants, and business offices. At nights, it becomes the Hip Strip, with hundreds and hundreds walking the sidewalks.

Honouring teachers

During my brief life in Montego Bay some 30 years ago, my favourite restaurant was the Richmond Hill Inn, perched on a rise in the centre of the town with a 360-degree view of sea and land.

It was there I attended a 90th birthday dinner celebration for Merciana Young, a retired elementary/primary schoolteacher.

It was worth the long drive from Kingston to sit and hear the tributes to and praise for her life and work. Guests came from far, very far, and near, and reminisced, and were entertained by the singing of Cecil Cooper and the Hatfield Cultural Group.

Mrs. Young is from the old school. She never joined crowds of teachers waving placards and banners on the road and demanding justice. Justice for her was the joy of hearing a new student spelling cat, mat and sat, and singing the multiplication tables, and celebrating her children's and her other students' graduations from university.

God bless Merciana Young and all the other teachers of her time. Theirs were the glory days of Jamaica.