A section of the busy town of May Pen in Clarendon. - Norman Grindley/Deputy Chief Photographer

Robert Lalah, Assistant Editor-Features

It's lunch time on a warm Tuesday afternoon. The sun is still high in the sky and there is only a slight breeze. It rained here last night so there are still puddles of water all over. Roy McKoy, a wiry old man with a pronounced limp and particularly hairy ears, stepped in one of them by mistake and was still fuming about it as he walked into Wright's Cafeteria, a small but popular restaurant in the heart of May Pen, Clarendon.

The guard and the old man

"Cho, crosses pan mi soul! A mi new boot! Wha dis pan mi now!" Roy muttered under his breath as he took a seat on a bench. He was shaking his head and kept mumbling to himself. A few others in the building turned to look at him. He, after all, was an odd sight in his white, mud-splashed pants and wide brimmed hat. The man removed the hat from his head and started to take off his now-soaked pair of blue and green canvas shoes, when a security guard ran over to him.

"Hi, hello! You think a yuh yard you deh? Yuh cyaan come in here wid dat!" the security guard said to him. Roy looked up at the man quizzically.

"Is who you a call 'hello'? Young man, you know mi is old enough fi be you puppa! Yuh must have mannas and respect fi you elders. Instead a run up yuh mouth and a tell mi 'bout foolishness, you shoulda ask if mi need help! What is wrong wid unnu young people?" he asked. The security guard, who was clutching a baton in his right hand, looked down at his shoes, whispered something to the man and then walked away sheepishly.

Roy didn't get up, and proceeded to remove his shoes and drain the water from them right there in the restaurant. The security guard turned his back to the action.

Just outside, a small bike pulled up and a very big man with a thick, dark beard and receding hairline got off. A schoolboy stood across the road staring at the huge man with a look of amazement, as if wondering how he could have stayed on the small bike for very longwithout blowing out a tire. The same thought crossed my own mind as the man squeezed past me to get into the restaurant.

So, I was now standing on the outside, right in the heart of May Pen. Anyone who's ever been there knows that it's normally very crowded and the day I visited was no different. There were taxi cabs and buses all over and hundreds, if not thousands of people were busy walking around.

Destined for collision

Peep peep. I heard a sound behind me and turned to face a man on a small bike heading right at me. I hadn't realised that I had wondered on to the roadway and now I seemed destined for a collision. The bike rider's eyes widened and my own went in the same direction. Death beckoned, but in a heartbeat, and to my relief, the bike rider did a zig and then a half zag and went around me. When I opened my eyes, I realised that the bike had passed me by. I looked around to see the bike rider give a wave before shouting: "Is all right man. A fimmi road so mi naah lick you."

The bike he was riding attracted a lot of attention. It was blue and had a very long pole attached to it. Dozens of stickers with things like 'Jamaica No Problem' written on them were all over the bike and a radio was attached to the handle bars. Some strange sounds, like the kind you would expect to hear in a movie about Egypt, were coming from the radio. He soon disappeared into the crowd.

Across the street from where I was, I spotted a small, wooden stall filled with onions, peppers and a few pieces of yam. An elderly woman wearing a head tie, glasses and a spiffy blue dress sat on a stool beside it. I walked up and introduced myself to her. "Yes man. Come talk to me for nuh betta nuh deh. Not a quatty from mawning," she said. I asked her what she meant by that. "Nutting nuh sell, mi son. Mi deh yah from mawning and nutting," she said.

Things change

Ms. Dally was her moniker and she was something of a chatterbox. I asked her how long she had been selling in May Pen.

"Mi live in Chapelton, so mi really used to sell in dat market, but bout five year now mi start come here fi sell. Chapelton market rundown now so mi come here tings nuh so nice here right now," she said.

Ms. Dally said the daily events in May Pen are a far cry from what she is used to. "When mi was a lilly pickney, you neva have so much car and noise. Di school pickney dem used to have mannas and you coulda neva wear earring go inna classroom. Now, all di bwoy pickney dem a wear earring! What a sinting! Any day my grandson come tan up in front a mi wid earring, I gwine box it right offa him ears! Bwoy pickney fi be bwoy pickney, not girl chil'," Ms. Dally said, shaking her head vigorously. A few men who were standing nearby listening to music on a small radio gave loud cheers when they heard Ms. Dally say this. She turned to face them with a surprised look in her eyes. "What unu a mek noise 'bout? You is di same ting, inna unnu tight up pants. Go siddung!" she shouted and the three men retreated into a building.

robert.lalah@gleanerjm.com