Glenda Simms - file photo

At the One-Stop-Shop in the village there was much excitement and anticipation. The annual gungo soup event had finally moved from the planning to the implementation stage.

Early in the morning the group of 'take-charge women' had gathered in the makeshift kitchen at the back of the shop. They organised the dried pimento wood to prevent the young men from putting 'no name' woods in the fire. A long oral tradition had taught these women the techniques to carefully tend the red hot coals to ensure the simmering tempo of their special brand of St. Elizabeth gungo soup.

Miss Hottie-Hottie in her usual blonde wig and shortest jean skirt had been given the task of picking out all the weevils that had invaded the four quarts of dried peas that Maas George had saved at the end of the gungo season. Hottie-Hottie did her job very well, because Miss Mattie had warned her not to even think of helping with making the corn dumplings. As far as Miss Mattie was concerned, no woman with false fingernails should ever be allowed to make dumplings at any of the food preparation events in the district.

respect

On the occasion when Miss Mattie made this rule, blonde wigged Hottie-Hottie just rolled her eyes and shrugged her shoulders. She wanted to tell Miss Mattie that when it comes to the matter of choice, she would rather have false fingernails than become a dumpling-making expert. Of course, no one would dare to talk back to Miss Mattie because in these hills the elders get maximum respect.

The planning process, the attention to detail and the constant stoking of the coals beneath the big pot of soup, resulted in a most tasty combination of locally-grown pig's tail, beef shanks, gungo peas, yellow yam, sweet potatoes and corn dumplings.

At 12 o'clock on Saturday, November 25, Maas George tested the pedigree of the gungo soup. He stuck his spoon in the bowl prepared for him by Miss Mattie and the spoon stood up straight. "Aha!" he shouted, "This is real district gungo soup."

Right at that moment, Miss Mattie asked the sizeable group gathered on the verandah to bow their heads, while she looked up to the skies and thanked her God for "food, friends and fellowship".

When everyone had finished eating, Miss Mattie beckoned Maas George to her side, while she started the promised discussion on the remaining articles of the Convention on the Elimination of all forms of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW).

Maas George said a silent prayer to the good Lord and asked for forgiveness if he falls asleep while trying to comprehend the heavy subject matters that Miss Mattie imposes on everybody at the curry goat and gungo soup get-togethers. Just before he could say "Amen Lord," Miss Mattie shouted in her special lecture voice "Brethren and sistren, Article 13 of CEDAW requires the Jamaican Government to take appropriate measures to eliminate discrimination against women, in the areas of economic and social life, in order to ensure equal right to family benefits, bank loans, mortgages and other financial credit. Also, women must have the right to participate in recreational activities, sports and all aspects of cultural life."

blue contacts

"Yes!" screamed Hottie-Hottie, "I need a small loan to buy some blue contact lenses for Christmas." Maas George whispered in Miss Mattie's ear, "I told you that before long Hottie would want blue eyes to match her blonde hair."

Of course, Miss Mattie has learnt to ignore all distractions when she is discussing serious matters. She therefore drew everybody's attention to Article 14 of the Convention. She declared in her loudest church voice that this article requires the Jamaican Government to "take into account the particular problems faced by rural women."

That, according to Miss Mattie, means that rural women must, among other things, be accorded the following:

"Participation in the elaboration and implementation of development planning at all levels."

"Access to adequate healthcare facilities, including information, counselling and services in family planning."

"Benefit directly from social security programmes."

"Obtain all types of training and education, formal and non-formal, including that relating to functional literacy."

"Participation in all community activities," access to "adequate living conditions, particularly in relation to housing, sanitation, electricity and water supply, transport and communication."

At this point, Miss Mattie lowered her voice and asked "Do you understand what rural women are entitled to?"

"Yes!" shouted Hottie-Hottie, "but what about country women?" Miss Mattie rolled her eyes, took a swig on her white rum on the rocks and said in a strong and clear voice, "Country women" are the same as "rural women."

"Ah," said Maas George, "they changed the label. I guess the town people will have more respect for us now that we are 'rural folk' and not 'country bumpkins'."

"Hold on Maas George," screamed Hottie-Hottie. "We have never been country bumpkins. We certainly pronounce our h's, we don't drop them."

Miss Mattie added her response to the debate by reminding everyone in the district that these rural places have produced prime ministers, governors-general, lawyers, doctors, musicians, cow thieves, dutty wine dancers, farmers, con artists and lots of country duppies (of both sexes).

In Miss Mattie's mind, the women at the One-Stop-Shop should stop reacting to the sociological definitions of who they are. Instead, they should hold the Government accountable for the rights enshrined in CEDAW articles in general and those in Article 14 in particular.

"That is true," said Maas George. "Rural women are the backbone of this country. And that is no joke. I am not just saying this to please Miss Mattie."

Hottie-Hottie flipped her wig, rolled her eyes and looked up to the clear blue skies with a knowing smile.

Glenda P. Simms is a gender expert and consultant