Waiting for a ride at the post office will take some time and there isn't much to do while you wait.

Robert Lalah, Assistant Editor-Features

Whoosh! Another overloaded minivan blew past Miss Brown as she stood at the roadside in Guanaboa Vale in St. Catherine. Her hair and her skirt went north and a cloud of dust went into her eyes. "Cho man! Dem caan tek time drive?" she shouted.

The woman had been standing at that same corner for more than 45 minutes and a vehicle only drove by there every 10 minutes or so, so the waiting was really getting to her now and it started to show on her face. "Bwoy, look how mi mek di van lef mi dis morning and now mi can't get anything," she muttered to herself.

She was standing in front of an old, wooden building with a triangular roof that has undoubtedly seen better days. A weathered signabove the doorway said 'Post Office Guanaboa Vale'.

She was the only person around and when I walked up to her, she seemed a bit startled.

"Hello please," she said, looking over her spectacles at me. I told her that I was looking for people to speak with in the community and she curled her eyebrows and pursed her lips. "Like who?" she muttered. A bit taken aback, I replied, "Ah ... residents?"

Not amused

She didn't seem the least bit amused and told me that if I knew anything about Guanaboa Vale, I should have known better than to come there expecting a crowd. From what I could see, the entire community was made up of one church, a police station, a post office, a school and a shop. No houses. I asked the woman about this.

"Well no house really around here still. People come from nearby communities to Guanaboa Vale when dem have business here. You used to have some houses inside but right now is only one white man have a house on the hill. Him have a farm nearby. The other houses are like in Kitson Town down the road or up the road somewhere. When is time for the pensioners dem to come and collect dem money then dem come to the post office, but otherwise nothing really happen here," she said.

It turns out that the woman with whom I was speaking, works at the post office. "Is me alone work there and the part-time cleaner, but she don't come every day, so is me alone sit down here most day," she said. Whizz! Another van flashed by. "But watch yah! Mi deh yah a labrish and mek di van lef mi again," Miss Brown said, making a sucking sound with her mouth.

Getting antsy

She lives in Point Hill, works in Guanaboa Vale and was now on her way to a bank in Spanish Town to pay some bills. It was getting late and she was getting more than a tad antsy. "By di time mi reach di bank pack up."

I was startled by a woman who walked out of the old post office. She was wearing a yellow shirt and was a bit overweight. She sat down on a post and went to work on an overripe mango.

"Guanaboa Vale has a lot of history you know. It full of history." Miss Brown regained my attention. I paused, expecting her to elaborate. She didn't. "Ah ... like what?" I pressed.

"Mi nuh know because they hide the history from the people," she replied, and I changed the subject.

She said she has been working there several years and has seen very little change there. "It is always like what you see here. Very quiet. Sometime some people go to the shop, like on a Friday and buy a drink or something but otherwise is just quiet. People don't stop here, dem only pass through," she said.

I got the feeling from the way she started looking at me that Miss Brown was beginning to hold me responsible for keeping her away from her errands, so I quickly bade her farewell and walked over to a nearby shop, the only one in the area as far as I could tell.

There were two women sitting inside, and a tired-looking man holding a green beer bottle was sitting on a stool at the front door. I stepped in and everyone looked up. "What can I do for you, sar?" one of the women asked. I found out that the two women live in Point Hill as well, and only stay at the shop with no name for about four hours every day. "It nuh mek nuh sense stay longer than dat for nobody nah go come afta hours," the older of the two women said.

Rush of activity

Suddenly there was a rush of activity and a loud roaring sound coming from outside the shop. I looked out and saw a large truck slow down across the road. "Binky! Smaddy fi gas!" someone from outside shouted and the sleepy man on the chair jumped to action. I was confused by this until I realised that what I thought was a vacant lot across the road was actually something of a gas station. There were two slightly disfigured pumps and a rickety old wooden building behind it. I turned to face the women in the shop and I saw them smiling. "It don't look like a gas station? Well is so Guanaboa Vale stay. Very small and quiet. Some people like that kind of thing. At least it peaceful. Real old time Jamaica," the younger woman said with a grin.

Left: Waiting for transportation to somewhere else is pretty much all there is to do at Guanaboa Vale. Right: The Guanaboa Vale gas station in all its splendour. - photos by Robert Lalah

- robert.lalah@gleanerjm.com