Exploring Alley

Whap! The loud-talking man with the pointy nose and round belly slammed three dominoes on the table, one after the other, all the while shouting curses at the men sitting across from him.

"Have dat! Have dat!" he yelled as the others looked on without expression.

I was standing just across the road, near a concrete fence in a place called Alley in Clarendon.

It seemed a fitting name for a place which, for the most part, seemed abandoned. There were remnants of what I was told was once a thriving market behind the fence I was standing next to, and a line of buildings once used as grocery shops. It appeared most of the shops went out of business many years ago. The men playing dominoes were seated just outside the empty shell of one of those buildings.

Now about 15 minutes after arriving at Alley, the only persons I came across were the domino-players and a man I saw washing a small blue van in the distance. Even from where I stood, I could tell that the van-washer was not the chatty type, and I learned long ago that interrupting a heated domino game in progress is frowned upon in these parts. So, I kept walking, eager to find someone who could tell me why Alley seemed so empty.

Walking in a straight line from the old market, I passed quite a few empty buildings, and lots and lots of bushes. Every now and again, a fast-moving taxi stuffed with far too many passengers, raced by, giving rise to thick clouds of dust.

Heavy load

Between violent bouts of coughing and shouts for rogue taxi drivers to be stricken with leprosy, I spotted a tall, strapping woman with a bucket on her head, walking toward me. I waved hello.

"Eh?" she asked.

"I was just saying hi," I responded.

Silence.

I asked the woman what she was carrying in the bucket.

"Water, man. Mi just go down ah river so mi ah carry some go back ah yard now fi do likkle washing," she said. I figured the bucket of water was a heavy load, so I told the woman that I didn't want to keep her and asked if she knew where I could find someone who could tell me a little about Alley. She pursed her lips and looked off to her right.

"Eem, mi coulda send yuh to Miss Hope, but I don't believe she is at home now yuh know. Eeem," she said.

I told her I appreciated her time and that she should probably get going with the heavy bucket of water on her head.

"No man, tee hee," she laughed. "It nuh heavy. What yuh want to know bout Alley?" she asked.

I mentioned how empty the place seemed.

"Is true, yuh know. I don't live here long, but is true yuh talking," she said. "Is about five year mi live here and inna dat time alone, most ah di long-time people dem gone weh," she said.

I asked her what was causing them to leave.

"Well, as yuh can see, most business place lock down. Nobody nuh really have nowhere to work or dem tings deh when di place dem lock down, so dem move to different place fi get work," she said.

We spent about 10 more minutes chatting, before the woman with the bucket on her head decided it was time to go. I bid her farewell and continued walking.

Rickety bridge

Soon, I came across a bridge with a huge river running underneath. It certainly didn't seem like the safest bridge in the world but it did offer a great view. I decided to take a few pictures.

About five minutes into snapping shots, I heard a shuffle behind me. I turned to find a young boy chewing on a straw. He didn't say anything but seemed content with just looking at what I was doing. I went back to taking pictures. Not long after, I heard a cough and looked behind me again, this time to find two teenage boys and a middle-aged woman wearing a blue house dress standing there. I said hello. The woman responded. "Hello, mi son, nuh mind, we nah go trouble yuh," she said. I was pleased for the reassurance.

"Is picture yuh taking?" she asked. I told her I was.

"Yes, man. It look nice. But yuh must come back one day when di river flood. Is a wicked river yuh know. When him get vex is a crosses," she said.

I asked her if she lived nearby. "Yeah man, just up di road," she said.

I asked what life was like in Alley.

"Alley is Alley," she said, dismissively. "But nuh di same all bout?" she asked. I told her that was probably true.

"Dis river is di main ting bout Alley though," the woman said.

"Dis river mek Alley famous. It bring all kinda attention to Alley when it flood over. If ongle it coulda bring some money and hot man wid it, den wi woulda alright," she laughed.

Where should Robert go next? Let him know at robert.lalah@gleanerjm.com

Readers' feedback

The following are some of the dozens of feedback letters to last week's edition of Roving with Lalah.

Dear Robert,

This is such a a beautiful story.

- Liz

Dear Robert,

I had to share this one! Keep up the work!

- Jacqueline

Dear Robert,

Look forward to see where you will be next to make me laugh. Keep them coming.

- Venice mac

Dear Robert,

Hilarious! One of your best yet.

- Reyfos

Dear Robert,

Absolutely wonderful, like so many of your local stories I've read. Such vivid, nostalgic light in your anthropological approach.

- Davidz

Dear Robert,

I love this story.

- CG

Dear Robert,

Just got off the floor. Nothing like Ja. Talk about being in harmony with one's environment!

- Littlebrownhouse

Dear Robert,

Beautiful, beautiful Portland. Many of us have a little bit of Ratty in us. You captured a gem here Robert.

- Gblbryan

Dear Robert,

One of your best stories, if not the best, for me. I wish Ratty all the best in his endeavour to find a lady. Then, he'd truly have the perfect life.

- Ann

Dear Robert,

You make us laugh and sometimes you fill our hearts with stories like this one. Much thanks.

- Markio24