The streets of New York can be really confusing. It is a good thing there are hundreds of Jamaicans who earn a living by making them a bit easier to handle. - photo by Robert Lalah

Now getting around in New York City can be more than a bit tricky for someone who doesn't live there. For Jamaicans, it might be twice as confusing because you can't just flag down a minibus that seems to be going in your general direction. Not that I tried that or anything.

But with so many Jamaicans operating taxis and dollar vans all around New York, you're sure to at the very least, enjoy the ride and have a hearty laugh or two. As I found out early one cold Thursday morning when I headed out on a short tour of Brooklyn.

I got up early and stepped through the front door of my hotel on Utica Avenue in what I thought were rather warm clothes. Someone mentioned to me that it was 25 degrees outside but I didn't take this warning too seriously.

Five steps through the door however, and I had to make a quick u-turn back up to my room. Ten minutes and four shirts, two jackets, two pairs of socks, a hat, a scarf and pair of gloves later and I was back on the road.

Tanya, a voluptuous vixen of a hotel receptionist, told me to head east to the corner of Utica and Eastern Parkway where I'd be able to get a taxi to wherever I wanted to go. I took her advice and headed off.

Familiar sound

About 15 minutes into my walk I started to wonder if I had missed the spot, but then I felt a sudden tap on my shoulder and heard a familiar sound.

"Taxi, bredrin?" His eyes were narrow and he pursed his lips like he was struggling to keep a secret. He wore a large tam and was bulging out of a thick jacket. "Eh man? You going downtown?" he said in an obviously forced New York accent. When I answered him he seemed to realise that I was Jamaican and his features changed instantly. "Oh zeen mi bredda. Where you going? Mi cyar park ova deh so," he said, pointing to a long, black car parked near the sidewalk. I quickly realised that there were several other men standing on the corner whistling to passers-by. "Taxi madam? Taxi sir?" they said as pedestrians walked by.

"Mi name Desmond, mi will carry you which part you a go," the man who tapped me on the shoulder said as I walked with him over to his car and hopped inside. It smelled of mangos and there was a small Jamaican flag tied to the headrest.

There was a picture of a large, smiling woman in a blue dress taped rather crudely to the dashboard. Peter Tosh's music coming from the giant speakers behind my head added to the, ah ... ambience of the vehicle.

'Difficult sinting'

Desmond, it turned out, is from Lacovia in St. Elizabeth and moved to the United States more than 12 years ago. He's about 45 years old now. "Yes man. Mi haffi come up yah inna di cold fi try make something of myself. It cold and it hard, but you know we Jamaican haffi do what we haffi do," he said as he drove. Desmond left his wife Patsy and three children back home. "Bwoy, it was a difficult sinting Pupa, but mi visit dem and ting still. Dem know seh mi haffi a work hard fi support dem, so dem alright," he said, shaking his head while slowly stroking the picture on the dashboard with his finger. I was getting uncomfortable.

"When mi was in Jamaica mi used to drive truck and ting. But di company I was working wid close down and then hard times reach me. Mi get a little opportunity fi come up here so mi take it and from that, things been going alright. Mi youth dem a go school and mi wife have money fi spend. Is a hard life but it haffi be done," Desmond smiled as he explained.

I asked him what the hardest part of being away from home was and he grinned. "Hee Hee. Bredrin a wouldn't know what to tell you. When you live a Jamaica you take everything fi granted. When you leave and come live a different country, den you realise what you have at home. Mi miss di real yard food like breadfruit and di ackee. We get dem ting deh over here, but is not the same. It nuh taste right. Mi miss di Christmas breeze and di pothole dem pan di road. Everything bout Jamaica mi miss it," he said. I was beginning to worry about Desmond getting teary eyed while he drove so I breathed a sigh of relief when he stopped the car. I had reached my destination, so I bid the good fellow goodbye and was off.

Another jamaican

I was now in downtown Brooklyn and my plan was to take another taxi from there to get to my final destination in Manhattan. Desmond pointed me in the right direction and told me that I had a good chance of running into another Jamaican driver. "Is we run up yah so," he said.

I jumped out of his car and scurried across the road to the spot where he told me I would be able to get another taxi. "Hey man. How you doing? Can I take you somewhere?" said a man sitting in a grey car. I hopped in and told the driver my destination. "Oh eem, dat is in Manhattan, right?" he queried and I smiled. Another Jamaican. After I had introduced myself, the elderly man who wore a baseball cap and a pair of glasses smiled. "I am Trevor, Sar. Good to meet you!" he said in a pleasant tone. Trevor is from St. Ann and has been living in New York for the last 17 years.

"I used to work at the Kingston wharf back in the days as a office clerk. But the manager wasn't dealing with me right so I move up here and start to do some refrigerator repair work. Dat was going on for a while and then I save and buy this car and now is it I use to survive," he said as he drove.

Trevor moved his wife and three children to New York with him and they all live together in Brooklyn. I asked him if he still visits Jamaica. "Everytime I can afford it. Is only my mother alone leave over there so I go and look for her alone. I don't go back long time now. I hear dem have big highway now with toll. Hee Hee. Wat a sinting!" he laughed.

I asked Trevor what it was like being a Jamaican taxi driver in New York and he furrowed his brow and went silent for a moment. "Well, it have it ups and down just like anything. I get hold up two times since I doing this work and the two times is a Jamaican hold me up. But is alright. Dem never hurt me and I continue the work. Is difficult work and the atmosphere not as nice like in Jamaica but because so many Jamaican live in New York I always get to meet them and I like that. Life for Jamaicans up here not so nice and not easy, but you know Jamaican people. Everywhere we go, we do the best we can," he said.

Note: To Tanya, Amanda, Felicia, Wendy, Terry-Ann and all the rest - Thanks for all the help and hospitality. To Teva: The trip wouldn't have been the same without you.

Send your feeback to: robert.lalah@gleanerjm.com