Roots Radical: That Jamaican Son of a ...

By Errol St. John Stephenson

Late November 1954, a young domestic helper with dreams of becoming the
best domestic helper she could…

A young baker with a brand new bicycle, dreams and desire of becoming the
best sperm donor the district produced…

They both met by coincidence and ever since the young baker swear his undying
love for her, It was a crush she knew nothing about. Then one fateful night,
destiny beckoned. After weeks of eyeing the young helper from afar, he got his
chance. She was on her way home from work when he rode up beside her and
offered to take her home. She refused his kind gesture. He wanted to be her
friend, but she was furious in rejecting him. His voice roared with anger, she
began trembling, and he couldn’t imagine being rejected in such a manner and
held on to her. A fight ensued. With the powerful flow of his adrenalin, and the
mighty blow to his ego, he did the unthinkable. He overpowered her and had
his own way. She felt worthless and demeaned and cried in agony, but only the
stars above were in sympathy with her cry… At first he was proud of his conquest,
but a guilty conscience began to prick his soul. He moved closer to the
crying young helper, with an intent of consoling her, but the wounded lioness
she was, she leapt at him with ferocious might and inflicted severe blows to his
head with a stone that she found at the side of the road…

So began the story of the Roots Radical, that Jamaican son of a . . . . . .

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Dec 5, 2012
• ISBN: 9781463430962

Errol St. John Stephenson

Born on August 26, 1955 in Mount Maria, St. Ann., Jamaica, W.I., Errol St. John Stephenson first attended Mt. Maria Primary School to jump start his formal education before heading to the Alston Junior Secondary School. At the age of 13, young Errol migrated to Kingston which has since become his home. Errol’s early life revolved around the Ghetto environment of Kingston, living dangerously and adventurously in an area where life was a constant fight for survival. This factor motivated his desire to help people to overcome this barrier of life. To this end, he attended various international seminars dealing with youth development and welfare. He became active in politics, where he got involved in social work. Errol’s long and intimate relationship with the poverty-stricken ghettos of the ‘70s, when the proletariat was torn by gang warfare and political tribalism, was manifested in his poems as a poignant call for liberation of the ghetto youth. He was an elected Councillor with the Kingston and St. Andrew Corporation (K.S.A.C.) spending only one term before being controversially kicked out by the his party, the Jamaica Labour Party (J.L.P.), who thought his type of politics did not conform with their viewpoints. A writer, poet, former politician, businessman, the people’s man: Errol, a man with a wealth of experience.

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© 2012 Errol St. John Stephenson. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse  08/19/2021

ISBN: 978-1-4634-3098-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4634-3097-9 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4634-3096-2 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012912717

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Cover Design by Richard S. Spragg

Book edited by William Heidbreder

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

The events in the book are based on the memories of the

author and may be different than the memories of others.

CONTENTS

BOOK I ROOTS

Chapter 1 Mada Martin

Chapter 2 Princess

Chapter 3 Noel

Chapter 4 Deloris

Chapter 5 Noel and Princess

Chapter 6 Baby Errol

Chapter 7 Mable

Chapter 8 Sister Milly and Uncle Youngman

Chapter 9 Aunt Mavis

Chapter 10 Rude Boy

Chapter 11 The Blakes

Chapter 12 Working

BOOK II MY LIFE IN JAMAICAN POLITRICKS

Chapter 13 The PNP

Chapter 14 The J.L.P.

Chapter 15 Lion Youth

Chapter 16 Lock Down the City

Chapter 17 Politics and Drugs

Chapter 18 Counting Voters

Chapter 19 War

Chapter 20 The Voice of Labour

Chapter 21 Guns

LIST OF FIGURES

The Innocent face of a future radical and the Miserable face of my grandmother Left to right: Tony; Emily Reid; Errol Stephenson (Me)

1973, Messenger at Novelty Trading Company

1976, Unemployed

The delinquent three having their midday meditation while burning a challis From left to right: Michael Campbell, David Duff, Errol Stephenson Nb. Challis is a colloquial term for marijuana

BOOK I

ROOTS

CHAPTER 1 MADA MARTIN

I n accordance with her notion of being a good Christian, Advira Martin, or Mada Martin, as she was known, had spurned the offers of many men who had tried to befriend her in the hopes of making her their future girlfriend or wife. Also, none of these men could walk in her past husband’s footsteps, and furthermore she used to hire most of them as labourers on her husband’s plantation. As time went by, most of them stopped visiting the house to find out if she needed any help; instead they would keep a straight face and whenever she found the money to pay them for their work they would always pretend to be busy.

She, along with her daughters — Gladys, Queen, Princess, Joyce, Avery, and Audrey.— tilled the land by day. By nightfall thieves would move in. This continued until all the small livestock and cash crops disappeared, leaving only pimento and coffee trees. Their annual crops now became her only means of survival. She would often go down on her knees and pray for help and guidance. One day, as Mada arose from one of her long prayer vigils, she glanced sideway to see her eldest daughter Gladys looking rather distraught, as a result of the many weeks since she had stopped attending school. Gladys had reached the age when men in the village would start to take notice of a young girl, and they noticed her keenly, which was worrisome to Mada. For she herself had married at just about Gladys’s age. She knew what it was like to start having children at that age before having the opportunity to learn a trade. Regarding this as one of her greatest mistakes in life, Mada would now have to seek a way to send Gladys to learn a trade.

A seamstress, she thought, wouldn’t be a bad occupation, but who could she send her to? She hesitated and then did what she usually did when problems of this nature manifested themselves to her. She took a slow walk to the tomb of her departed husband, her most trusted companion. She pulled a few weeds as she spoke lovingly to the tomb lying lonely under the large jackfruit tree, as if he was there hearing every word that came from her lips. She slowly whispered a word of prayer and meekly sat at the foot of the tomb picking away at the weeds that were now competing for attention with the lovely arrangement of Joseph Coat flowers with which she had spent so much time decorating the side of the tomb.

Suddenly she heard a voice that sounded so strange that she panicked. She hesitated, but kept on talking to herself. Then she heard the voice again. This time she quickly sprang to her feet and stared nervously at the tomb. The voice called out again, and Mada stared in the direction from whence it came, only to see Brother Percy, a long lost cousin of hers, who was one of the many young men to go to Great Britain to fight in the war. He was back and would be spending some time before he returned to England where he now resided with his family. She felt great joy upon seeing her cousin, whom she thought had died during the war. She held out her hands to the heavens and then with tear-filled eyes held his hand and pointed dejectedly at the tomb:

Here lies my husband. He has been dead now for seven years and it is only my God and the girls sustaining me. .Sometimes it seems as if this world is suddenly closing in on me, and I don’t have the will or the strength to go on anymore. It seems like the good Lord has heard my plea and has sent you.

Mada and Percy then slowly walked towards the house, where she called to the children to come and meet one of their long-lost cousins. Three of the girls were nearby, and two were across from the house over by the roadside under a big Mahoe tree, where they were breaking stones in the hope that the local Parochial Board would buy them for the repair of the road. After introducing Percy to the girls, Mada returned along with Percy to the house. She said a prayer of thanks for his safe return and offered him a cup of coffee. He gladly accepted it with fond memories of the days when they all sat by the fireside and had their favourite brew of coffee and told Anansi stories. Those were the days, they said. She called one of the girls from outside to make a fire and to get some coffee for Cousin Percy.

After a good two hours of telling Mada and the girls about his war exploits, Percy pulled from his pocket a small wallet filled with pictures of his wife and several children. After everyone had a good look, he reached into his pocket again and out came two five pound notes. He held Mada and with emotion on his face said, This is for you. She looked at him with shock and amazement, for it had been many years since she had seen such a large sum of money. God was really working one of his wondrous miracles in answering her prayer. With tears welling up in her eyes, the words stumbled from her mouth:

Thank you, Fada Jesus!

The two of them staring in each other’s faces, Percy said, Mada Martin, I owed this money to your husband before I left for the war and all these years my conscience kept pricking me, but as you know I am not a very good writer and I was too embarrassed to ask my wife to write, so now that I finally have the time I make it a point of my duty to come and repay my debt to him for his kindness to me when I was really in need.

With those words he reached into another pocket and took out another five pound note, handed it to her, and said: This is from me to you and the girls. I will be going, but I will be back within a few days with some clothes for the girls and yourself.

I was told this story by my grandmother, Mada Martin. I never found out if Percy ever returned.

CHAPTER 2 PRINCESS

P rincess, the third of Mada’s six daughters, was now of age; she was twenty, and it was time for her to go and face the wider world. Black Beauty was the name the men in the village gave her. She had very large, dark brown eyes, and pretty black hair that descended to her shoulders. She was five feet six inches tall and weighed all of a hundred and thirty-five pounds. She was the heartthrob of every young man who lived in the village of Cufferidge. She always would smile at strangers in a very shy way, but would keep them at a distance. From the way she spoke one could discern that she was not fully socialized, so she kept away from prolonged conversations.

Things were about to change for Princess in a very big way. Word came to Mada that the Brahams wanted her to work as their household helper in the district of Laughton Town. Mada was overjoyed that one more of her prayers had been answered. The Brahams were very respectful people living just a stone’s throw away from Mada’s own father, Old Man Thompson, a land baron. Mr. Braham was a land surveyor and Mrs. Braham a school teacher at Mount Moriah Primary School. Mrs. Braham had taught Princess in the first grade.

The Brahams were delighted to have Princess working for them, knowing that she was from a well-known family, one which was looked up to. It was a well-known fact that Old Man Thompson owned two-thirds of the land in the district on both sides of the road. His youngest daughter, Eithel, Princess’s aunt, was revered as the heir apparent of all this land. Her father chose her to take care of him and oversee all his business interests. Her behaviour was at times likened to that of a member of a royal family. She took it upon herself to disinherit her sisters from Old Man Thompson’s possessions. Old Man Thompson himself drove fear into Mada’s heart, because he had not agreed with her choice of a husband, and many people in the district had quietly spread the rumor that it was Old Man Thompson who was responsible for the untimely death of Mr. Martin, Princess’s father. Princess was well aware of all the rumors about her grandfather, but her mother had already warned her not to make any of this her business, and whenever she had time, to visit her grandfather as much as possible, and never forget that blood is thicker than water.

It was Saturday morning bright and early when Mada called Princess and told her that this was the day she would be leaving to go to the Brahams’s to start working. She instructed her to get her things together, for by midday she should be off. She wanted her to look her best so that there would be no embarrassment to her family. Mass Jasper, a friend of the family, showed up at eleven o’ clock to take Princess to the Brahams’s house. Following their usual ritual, Mada gathered the family together in the yard for prayer, asking the Lord for guidance and protection over her daughter. Then Princess set out on a two-mile journey as a result of which her life would be changed forever.

At about two o’ clock in the afternoon, Princess and Mass Jasper arrived at the Brahams residence. They were a bit tired, sweaty, and very nervous. Mass Jasper introduced her to the Brahams, admonished her to employ good manners and behaviour, and told the Brahams that she was a very hard worker. Mrs. Braham nodded in approval and recalled that when she had Princess in her first grade class, she was a very shy girl.

Are you still shy, Princess? she asked.

Princess gave a half-hearted smile and used her left hand to hide her face. Mass Jaspers left, leaving the Brahams to show Princess around. She was shown her room, where she put away her stuff, and then was taken around the house, shown the various rooms, and told what was expected of her. She would be taking care of the Brahams’s two year-old daughter Blossom. She was also expected to prepare breakfast and dinner for them, wash and iron, and tidy the house. For this she would be paid three pounds ten shillings per month, and she would be getting one Saturday off each month.

As night began to descend on the quiet district of Laughton Town, Princess looked around at her surroundings and tried to memorize the things Mrs. Braham had told her. She also tried to remember the names of the neighbours she had been introduced to and whom she would soon get to know in person and not just by name. She stared in bewilderment as the darkness slowly descended, listening to the sound of a woodpecker pecking away at a dry trumpet tree across from her. The beautiful voice of a nightingale perched on the guava tree, chirping a beautiful song; and the dozens of fowls in the yard flew to their roost as if on cue. This was an exciting experience. Never before had she taken the time to see nature unfold in her sight. To her this was fairy tale magic. Further surveying her surroundings, her eyes reached her grandfather’s house, above her on a steep hill, and there staring back at her was her aunt Eithel. It seemed as if she had been staring at her for quite some time without her knowing it. Princess waved to her as if to say good evening, but as soon as their eyes made contact Eithel turned away suddenly, as if to show that she had not been staring at her.

Princess! A soft-spoken voice seemed to echo and broke the evening silence as she tried hard to make sense of what was unfolding in her mind.

Come inside. I have fixed some supper for you. It was Mrs. Braham.

The next morning at five-thirty all the roosters in the district began to crow simultaneously, telling everyone that another day had begun and that it was time to get out of bed. The hens were busy flying off their roost and hurrying to find the first worm. Princess awakened from a very lovely dream to the sound of the roosters crowing, dogs barking, and the nightingale, who was still chirping, only this time to a different tune. Morning had broken and it was time to start her first day of work. She swore that that was what the bird was chirping. She stretched and yawned with a pitiful groan, and half-heartedly pulled the blanket off her half-naked body. Ready to face her first day head-on, she once again tried to memorize the things Mrs. Braham had told her were to be her chores.

Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a full-length beige dress, measured it against her body and decided that this would be the one for today. The dress had a matching head tie, and she wore black bata slippers to compliment her uniform. She wasted no time getting off to the kitchen to start breakfast. She was no stranger to hard work and getting up early was part of her everyday life. The only difference now was that she would be getting paid. She kept whispering to herself, I want do my best.

At seven-thirty Mrs. Braham awoke to a beautiful aroma coming from her kitchen. Mr. Braham was still snoring after a hard week of work. She put on her duster and headed straight to the kitchen.

Good morning Princess! Mrs. Braham greeted Princess, a smile covering her face. I see you’ve woken very early. Did you have a good night’s rest?

Yes, Mrs. Braham, Princess replied quickly.

I see you already started breakfast. Mr. Braham is still asleep, but I will have a cup of coffee for a start and at about eight-thirty, I will wake Mr. Braham for breakfast. In the meantime, there is an orange tree around the side of the storeroom beside the jackfruit tree. Pick about six oranges and juice them. Mr. Braham always has a glass of orange juice before breakfast on Sunday mornings.

Breakfast that morning consisted of boiled bananas, roast breadfruit with salt mackerel, and coconut rundown. The Brahams enjoyed every morsel of it and showered praise on Princess for a wonderful breakfast. Soon after they departed for church, leaving Princess to give Baby Blossom her early morning bath and a walk around the house. By mid-afternoon Princess was busy preparing dinner before the Brahams got back from church, when suddenly she began humming away, Jesus, lover of my soul, let me hide myself in thee. As she hummed, tears began swelling in her eyes. This went on for a few minutes until she was unable to keep it in any more. She burst out crying and asked God to forgive her.

In the loneliness of the Brahams’s kitchen, she gazed aimlessly as if time had stood still. She surveyed her surroundings and noticed the large coal stove with the Dutch pot bubbling at the top, with a juicy piece of beef being pot roasted. There was also a small fire made of wood, with another pot with rice and peas. The small kitchen was very hot but this was something she was well-acquainted with, having had to do the cooking at home on many occasions. What she could not bring herself to cope with was the realization that it was a Sunday, the most sacred day, when she was taught not to work but to worship God. Now she would be condemned and be in sin for disobeying God; hence her crying and praying for God’s forgiveness.

As far back as she could remember, when she was just a tiny tot, mommy would dress her and her sisters in their Sunday best and they would go off to Sunday school. She had graduated from Sunday school and was now a full-fledged member of the choir. The minutes turned into hours, the sun crossed over the district. and evening descended once more. Then finally the Brahams arrived from church to see Princess in a somber mood.

Good evening, Princess, they both said simultaneously.

How was your first day? asked Mrs. Braham. Did Blossom give you any trouble? Did you have any problems finding the things to prepare for dinner?

Everything was alright, Ma’am. Blossom slept most of the time and you did already show me what to do.

So why are you so sad, you miss your home?

Not really, Ma’am, but I did really miss going to church today. I go to church every Sunday from morning till evening, Ma’am.

Well Princess, we will see how things can be worked out next week so that you can come along with us to church. But tell us, which church did you attend?

We attend the Apostolic Church at the top of Cufferidge where Pastor Bowerbanks preaches.

Oh I see, said Mrs. Braham. We attend the Borobridge Baptist church, so I’m not sure how you would fit in, but we can give it a try and see how it works.

The days and weeks passed slowly as Princess’s confidence grew stronger as a house helper. The Brahams’s residence started to become a place of interest as uninvited guests turned up from time to time without notice, begging for work or just asking for a drink of water. They all appeared polite and were willing to do odd jobs around the house without even being asked to. Curious but wary, Princess, if she was in the laundry area, would slowly move to a more secure place inside and lock herself in until the uninvited guest left quietly.

Immersed in her work, the last thing on her mind was men and their interest in her. She had never been in a relationship before but had always dreamt of a time in the future when she would get married and have children of her own.

One day she stood gazing at a line full of freshly-washed laundry dangling in the midday breeze. Suddenly, she was abruptly awakened from her midday sojourn in wonderland. Standing a few yards away a short, stocky chap, about five feet six inches tall, stood motionless, staring at her as if transfixed. Lost for words he wondered aloud, Where did this woman descend from? Slowly he stepped closer to her. Frightened, she dashed inside for cover. She slammed the door shut and used her body as a shield to keep out this uninvited and unwelcome guest. The loud bang of the door awakened Blossom from her midday sleep. Her screams sent Princess scurrying to her room to assist her. With her heart still pounding from fright, she slowly lifted the screaming baby into her arms. Trying to hush her, she vowed not to go outside until her boss came home.

At six-thirty in the evening, a tired Mrs. Braham arrived home from a very hectic day at school to find a very frightened and teary-eyed Princess hugging Baby Blossom.

What’s wrong? What’s wrong? a frightened Mrs. Braham shouted. After Princess explained to her what had transpired, Mrs. Braham with a sly smile patted Princess on her shoulder. Don’t worry, Princess, don’t worry. I know who it was. His name is Noel. Miss Milly who lives across from us, he is her son. He works by the bakery in Borobridge. One of these evenings whenever I get the chance to come home early, I will take you over there to meet and get to know them. They are very nice people.

CHAPTER 3 NOEL

N oel Stephenson was the last of Emily Reid’s twelve children, five of whom had died at a very young age. When he was eight years old, his mother decided that she just could not cope much longer. It wasn’t due to the fact that his father had neglected to maintain him, even though he accepted his paternity. It was because she simply could not stand the sight of this little black boy calling her mommy wherever she went. She considered him to be a curse worse than her third eldest daughter, whom she had managed to ship away to her father at the tender age of three.

Many times she would lift her head to heaven and ask God what she had done to be cursed with two black bastards. She knew that she had never in her entire life bedded a black man, so it must have been a curse on her womb. All her children were high brown with long flowing or curly hair, except for Miss Beck and Noel.

The relationship she had with the boy’s father wasn’t long-lasting. She was working for him when things kind of got out of control. Since then she only saw him once in a while when he passed by and gave the boy a few shillings. Now she had decided to make contact with him to try to get him to understand that she could no longer care for him, and since he was in a much better position to do so, he should be the one raising the boy. She began thinking about what was the best way to get a message to this man without him getting any false ideas. It was hopeless for her to visit because his wife would only think that they were still having an affair. The next best thing was for her to send a message with one of the many women going to market on Saturday and trust her luck.

After receiving the message that Emily would like to see him urgently, Benjamin Stephenson had a vague feeling that it must have something to do with his son, so he decided to make the visit as early as possible. After all he had not seen him for almost two years. Another ten shillings would keep them happy for a while. He was confident that upon seeing Emily again after such a long time the old flame of passion could be rekindled. But he was in for a rude awakening when he arrived. Emily, without even saying hello, upon seeing him, returned to where she and Noel were peeling ginger under a shed, and grabbed the frightened boy by his collar and dragged him outside to where Benjamin was still astride his mule.

Tek you bad-head pickney, I don’t want him here another day! Emily shouted.

A shocked Benjamin dismounted his mule and placed his hands around the boy.

Never mind son, everything will be alright.

He tried to calm the now raging Emily, who was cursing like hell that she didn’t want to see any of them ever again. She rushed inside the house with a few pieces of clothes in one hand and a plastic bag in the other, hurriedly stuffed the clothes into the bag, and handed them to Noel.

Tek dis boy, she said, and stormed off, leaving them behind.

Benjamin’s face stiffened, as he stood there looking at the virago who had dumped her child on him. He shook his head, thinking that Emily must be going mad. He then turned to his son and rubbed his head with the palm of his hand. He was more than happy to take Noel to live with him. Although he was of a high brown complexion, he could see his own mother in the boy’s features.

Such a strange coincidence, Benjamin uttered to himself. It’s like I’m looking at my own mother who passed away some years back.

He took Noel to his new home, a district all the way in Clarendon called Morgan Forest. The journey started in mid-evening and lasted until darkness began slowly descending on the village.

Benjamin with a calm voice said, Son, we have reached home, this is now your new home. Hope you will enjoy it here. Soon you will meet you brothers and sisters so you won’t be lonely.

While Benjamin was calmly trying to instill some confidence into Noel and make him comfortable in his new home, he himself was wrestling with the question, what if his family didn’t take on to Noel and rejected him, even though they knew of his existence? He groaned in agony at this thought and swore to himself that he would have to pressure his wife to accept him.

He then cleared his throat and shouted, I am home and I brought with me a surprise!

Before he finished speaking, the Stephenson clan was swarming around the newest member of the family they all had heard about. Now they were in his presence and everyone was in awe as he was formally introduced to each member of the family. They all agreed that he was a spitting image of their grandmother and welcomed him to his new home and family. That night he would be sharing a bed with Gillie and Dennis and in the morning his errands would be to feed the pigs and the fowls, to help in carrying water from the river, and to do whatever else he was told to do.

As time went by, Noel began attending the Morgan Forest All-Age School, and as he grew older he would still have memories of his mother and would always wonder why she gave him to his father. It seemed as if he would never receive an answer. Each passing day as his workload increased, so did his anger and resentment. Doubt started to crowd his thinking. It seemed to him that he was not treated as an equal. He was doing more of the work and his brothers and sisters were doing less and less. He would usually skip school to help in the field. while they only did so occasionally. He never had a new pair of khakis, only hand-me-downs; and when his brothers would go to the market in Christiana he could not go with them. He started to see himself as an outsider and started making plans to run away.

One Sunday evening after everyone arrived from church and dinner was being prepared, Benjamin decided to have a one-on-one talk with his youngest boy. It seemed like just a few days ago that he was just a little tot who could hardly mount Elizabeth the mule, and now he was a teenager. The girls in the district started to lay claim to him, but he was quiet and hardly ever spoke a word, except to say good morning and good evening to everyone he passed in the district. He was taught early in life that if you want to make it in life, you must have good manners.

Son, over the last couple of years I have hardly had time to scratch my head. As you see, Gillie will soon be leaving home to go to Kingston. That means you will now have to go to Christiana with Dennis on a weekly basis, to market the crop that we reap. There is some ginger I have stored and as soon as it’s sold, I am going to buy you a nice pair of shoes and some clothes so that whenever you go out you can go out looking good. As you can see, I am getting old, and soon I will no longer be able to work the field. You are the one always willing to be with me in the field whether rain or shine. I am therefore going to show you a piece of land down by the big guinep tree that you can work on as your own. Whatever you want to plant, let me know, so I can assist you in getting the necessary seedlings. Now don’t you go telling anyone our little secret. It’s just between us.

As he sat quietly listening to his father’s promise. a tear of joy fell from the corner of his eye. Thanks, Dad. I will always be grateful and I won’t let you ever loose of me, Noel stuttered.

Noel was now eighteen. He was muscular, with a voice that sounded like distant thunder whenever he uttered those occasional words before suddenly retreating into silence as if he had some hidden fear of speaking for long. Now his greatest dream was about to unfold. Come Saturday morning, he would be going to Christiana for his first visit to the market along with his brother Dennis, and he was looking forward toward it. His brothers had, over the years, told him stories of the wonderful time they had, the beauty of the place and the many shops and stores. He felt a mixture of excitement and anxiety . On Thursday and Friday the boys worked extra hard to reap whatever crop they could for market the next day. As always before going to market, they would all settle in for bed early so they could be up by 2:00 a.m. Saturday morning to start the fifteen-mile journey to Christiana.

Noel brought a thermos full of coffee. Elizabeth the mule and Jacob the donkey were already loaded. He felt a bit cold but excited. Daddy Stephenson’s long water boots would be of much help in cushioning his feet from the rugged parochial road that lie ahead on this, his first long journey away from home. The black misty morning with its heavy moisture clung to their trembling bodies, as they set out. The bottle torch which gave them light began to fade as the journey grew longer and the darkness slowly turned grey. They could hear the first cock beginning to crow. The folks of Christiana were still very much asleep as the boys arrived at their destination. Being in a strange town, many questions began to occupy Noel’s mind, but he was too shy to ask his brother any of them. He watched him curiously and studied his every move, so that he would not make any mistakes and Dennis would have no reason to mock him when they got home.

As the morning unfolded and more people began to arrive with their small livestock, the market began to have a life of its own. The cows were mooing, donkeys braying, and goats maying as everyone chose their own small space to settle down, await the town folks coming, and then start the day’s activities. As Noel and Dennis slowly unpacked their produce, they wondered what the day would be like. It wasn’t long before Dennis heard a familiar voice. It was one of his regular customers. The usual greetings exchanged, he introduced his brother Noel, who was coming for the first time. It started to get busy as more customers arrived. Dennis, while selling, was teaching Noel the tricks of doing business.

The morning passed quickly. All the important people of Christiana were doing their Saturday shopping. Many of them were known to Dennis and they all had always make it their duty to shop with him. Now it was his duty to introduce each and every one of them to his younger brother Noel, whom he told to make sure that whenever possible people’s produce would be ready for them.

The mid-afternoon sun was now glowing with all its glory and heat, and they were distinctly feeling weary, sweaty, and tired. The morning’s excitement had worn off and now they had to find the extra energy to finish the day. They had forgotten that they had not eaten all day, but that would have to wait a bit. Within an hour or so their produce would be finished, so they could get some much needed rest. The slowly-proceeding workday slowly came to a halt. The boys lazily gathered their leftovers and walked slowly to where the animals were tied and checked their day’s sale to see how much they had sold.

They had made a whopping nine pounds, thirteen shillings, and four pence. Today was really their lucky day. Was it because it was Noel’s first day at the market? Whatever it was, they were delighted. Dennis decided that because it was Noel’s first time, and since there would be times when Noel would be coming by himself, he would show him around the town, so that he would be able to find his way around the next time. Both of them stepped briskly side by side, going from store to store, looking at the goods on display. The beautiful young ladies who worked in the stores and the haberdashery caused Noel to smile brashly. He wished the day could be longer, for he was really enjoying every moment of this very special day.

As they strolled around by the bus park, where the McCaulay’s bus was awaiting its next load of passenger to take into Kingston, Noel silently asked the good Lord to give him a long life so that one day he too would ride on the McCaulay’s bus.

Night was slowly creeping in the town of Christiana. They went by Mr. Chin’s grocery shop to get the weekly groceries before heading home. As they approached the grocery shop on a little slope beside the only gas station in the town, Noel stopped suddenly and stammered something incoherently, pointing frantically to a tall wooden post planted by the side of the road with a bright, shining light. He was both frightened and excited. His excitement seemed uncontrollable. Dennis was a few yards ahead. Upon noticing that Noel was not beside him, he turned around to see him pointing and shouting, but to no one particular. He rushed towards him to find out if anything was wrong, only to hear him saying, The moon…the moon on the post!

A confused and angry Dennis shouted, You blasted fool, idiot, you nuh si seh a electric light.

He had forgotten that it was the first time his brother had been away from the district where they lived. Embarrassed, Noel tried to regain composure while his brother made a wild mockery of him. Dennis continued laughing until they got inside Mr. Chin’s grocery shop, when his laughter turned to seriousness. He called out to Mr. Chin to and introduced his brother to him, as the person who would be coming to market whenever he was not available. They paid the balance from the previous week and asked to be given the same as usual. Noel was given the task of checking the groceries that they were going to buy. Soon he would be the one coming to market, so he needed to learn all about the things that had to be done.

While checking the groceries that Mr. Chin was passing to him from the shelf, Noel’s eyes were roaming the place. He was learning fast but was still ignorant of many things that he was seeing for the first time, like the two small light bulbs hanging from the ceiling of the shop that lighted up the place. They were just like the one he had just seen outside, only that one was very large compared to these. He was skeptical but vowed not to make a fool of himself by giving Dennis any more reason to laugh at him.

The groceries were properly checked and packed. It was now time for the journey home. They decided to give themselves a treat, so they purchased two bottles of Sputnik Stout to replace some of the energy they had lost. They mounted their trusted friends Jacob and Elizabeth; the beasts of burden seemed equal to the task. They waved their tails as if saying good-bye to the atmosphere and excitement of market life in Christiana. The silence was soon broken as the boys shouted in unison a song that they had sung before many times when the day’s work had been completed: Day o, day o, night a come and we want to go home. Sipping their stout, they listened to the hoofs of the mule and donkey which sounded like musical instruments being played on the asphalt. The night insects whistling in the stillness of the night sent rippling shivers of fear to these two lonesome riders, as they sang out of tune.

Soon their own voices would echo back to them from the cascading river that ran parallel to the road. Back in the district that night everyone was amazed to see the difference in Noel’s once-sad face. He now seemed the happiest man in the district and this feeling followed him to bed that night. As he lay awake, his eyes focusing on the dimly-lit home sweet home lamp, he reflected on the wonderful day at the market. Now he had a reason to be happy and could not wait for the next Saturday to arrive.

After a couple of months of going to market in the absence of Dennis, Noel seemed to lose the interest he once had. Things now seemed to be just routine and he was back to his old lackadaisical self, just going through the motions. Daddy Stephenson had seen his lacklustre performance and decided to have a chat with him. They both sat under the number eleven mango tree, with Daddy Stephenson whistling while cutting up some tobacco to stuff his pipe. Out of the blue he began to reminisce about his own life. He sighed and then with a huge grin on his face cleared his throat until the sound of his unhappy voice wandered off. He paused and looked at Noel, who was staring at him in silence. Daddy Stephenson had seen life in its fullness. His health was now fading as he reached the twilight of his life. He had had many good times, but now all he had was memories, memories of the women he had exploited, and the many children he had fathered. Now they had all gone to have families of their own. Noel was the only one left, and he had been showing signs of resentment lately.

He tried reasoning with him, but to no avail. Noel was thinking that it was time for him to leave the district and find a life somewhere else on his own. He had been dreaming since that first day four years ago when he had first gone to the market, thinking that life in this district wasn’t for him. Now he was sure life was elsewhere, even though his father had tried to buy his loyalty with the piece of land he had given him to cultivate with crops of his own choice. Indeed. he was very thankful, especially since the banana, plantain, sugar cane, and other cash crops that he had planted were successful. Now he was the envy of the district and Daddy Stephenson was fully aware of what a hard worker he was. He finally convinced Noel to take full control of the rest of the property and oversee things.

You must understand, son, that I cannot cope to do the things I once did. I am now constantly suffering from high blood pressure, back ache, and other illnesses brought on by old age. You have a long life ahead.

Noel, while appreciative of his father’s generosity, was still not convinced in his mind that everything would be ok. For instance, he couldn’t understand why certain things that had long been forgotten had now taken center stage in his thought processes. A lot of unanswered question started to resurface, like what if something should happen to the old man and all his siblings should return, turn him off the land, and claim ownership of the crops that he had worked so hard to cultivate? Where would that leave him? He knew deep down in his heart that his older siblings had never accepted him. And as he searched within himself to find answers, he strolled slowly towards the big guango tree, which was more than a hundred years old. Legend had it that whenever any member of the family was searching for a solution to their problems this was where they came, to the tree of knowledge, with its large outstretched branches.

He searched quietly for a comfortable spot, leaned his head forward, his back against the trunk, his feet outstretched, and gave a deep yawn as the coolness of the tree’s shade penetrated his half-tired and restless limbs. To the sounds of the birds chirping in the background which sounded like an orchestra warming up, his mind now drifted into faraway places where he have not traveled before.

Passing from his field on his way home, Sam Brown noticed the outstretched figure and decided to find out if it was some drunk defiling the sacred sanctuary of the tree of knowledge. His coarse voice awakened Noel, who had been asleep for some time. Frightened, he jumped to his feet, and rubbed his eyes to get a better view of the intruder who had robbed him of his slumber.

Oh, it is you, Uncle Sam. My God, look at the time. I must have been a sleep all evening.

His eyes surveyed the surroundings and he was at a loss to see the evening descending into darkness so fast. He picked up his machete and thanked Sam Brown for awakening him, then hurried off in a rush to reach home. On his way, a vague plan of action entered his mind. He would try to convince the old man to invest some more money in the farm. Since his father wanted him to take full control, he would utilize more of the piece of idle land which lay across from the river. Parts of it he would plant with ginger, and others with red peas and cucumber. In two years time, he thought he could save enough money to go and live in one of the big towns. He deserved all this and more, as he had been working so long for nothing. This was his time to achieve something. At dinner he would lay out his grand plan to his old man and give him a surprise. But the old man also had his own surprise.

Benjamin was glad that Noel had finally come to his senses and was thinking in the right direction. But he was wondering if Noel could mange on his own, now that all his brothers were gone. Noel assured him that that would not be a problem; he would get all the hired hands around the district and would personally supervise them. With that assurance, the old man asked his wife to bring the letter they had received that day. It was from his elder son Gillie, saying that he was going off to England and was unable to come and visit them before he left, but that as soon as he settled down he would like Noel to come and join him over there, so he should start saving towards his fare. This was more than good news to Noel; he was in seventh heaven.

Thank you Jesus! he could be heard stuttering softly.

The old man somberly shook his head and offered him a few good words of advice. Take it from someone who has been around for a long time, son. Don’t you count your chickens before they are hatched. Never you let the people in the district know any of your plans; they can be a bit devious at times. And don’t you start doing more than you can manage. All the plans you talk about sound good, but never you bite off more than you can chew. Take it one day at a time; it is going to cost a pretty penny to do all the things you want to do.

Noel smiled at his father’s advice. It was a devious smile, hiding disappointment, but he heeded his father’s words, knowing that he wasn’t one to give wrong advice. But in his stubborn mind he still intended, at some point in time, to put his own plan into action, even if he had to use up his savings from the small stipend he received on a weekly basis, or sell a few of the goats he was rearing. He stood motionless for a while with his face in a somber mood, but now and again a smile would appear. He thought about the letter from Gillie, and that seemed to chase away any insecure feeling that he might have held in relation to him in the past.

He walked briskly down to the small shop in the square, ordered himself a stout, and challenged a few of the men to a game of dominoes. That was the only entertainment in the area, other than on a Sunday, when everyone would dress up in their Sunday best and go to church. After a couple of hours of playing dominoes he returned home with the sound of his father’s words still clattering in his mind. He again tried to understand their meaning, only for sleep to rob him of his thoughts. It took him roughly two days for his mind to fully grasp the simple advice of his father. But this only reinforced his desire not to stay in Morgan Forest any longer than he could endure. Moisture began welling up in the corners of his eyes. In a moment of deep emotional pain, with his lips trembling, and at a loss for words, he thought he was losing self-control and wandered off, searching his mind for a solution to his dilemma.

After months and months of toiling in the fields, Noel’s restless and wandering mind began to settle down. Things began to look even rosier than before. The crop yield was more than impressive. Instead of him making the regular market trips, higglers were now flocking to his farm to purchase the produce on the spot. He even had a few men working along with him a few days a week.

Then one Wednesday afternoon, at about midday, one of his cousins hurriedly brought him a note, which read, I am by the post office. Come and meet me at once. There was no name attached to the note and the cousin who had brought it could only give a vague description of the lady who had asked her to find him urgently. She just kept stuttering that it was a black woman on a donkey with a red bandana tied around her head. He hurried off thinking it might be some higgler who had come to purchase produce.

Walking briskly towards the post office in the midday sun, grim-faced, sweat pouring down his muscular body, he approached the stranger sitting on top of a tired-looking donkey under the large common mango tree that separated the road from the post office. Hi, darling, he cautiously mumbled. Can this poor servant be of some help to you? I am Noel. I received this note saying that I should meet with you at once. So here I am, your humble servant at your service.

Who are you addressing as darling? Have you no manners? the lady bellowed. You little pissintale bwoy, learn some manners!

This was followed by two quick, stinging blows from the guava whip she held in her right hand to help guide her donkey.

Why did you hit me? a frightened Noel screamed. All I did was to be nice. He stood away from her, staring at her while she laughed her head off.

You little devil, come let me give you a few more. You think you are a big man, you is still a little bwoy. Where is your father? she asked, arrogantly. I want to meet with him.

Still frightened of the lady’s approach, he feebly pointed his finger towards the house.

He is over there by the house. He’s not too well of late, a very subdued Noel replied, still not knowing what to expect from this very strange woman.

Come closer and give me a hand to un-mount so I can have a better look at you.

Not taking any chances, Noel moved closer and gave his hand to assist her, but his watchful eyes fastened on her right hand, which held the whip. She laughed heartily. Boy, you catch you fraid? Don’t you want two more to proper straighten you out?

He replied, a coward man keeps sound bones.

She looked at him with a deep puzzle of emotions visible on her face. From head to toe, her eyes searched him, until something unusual caught her eyes. She held onto his hand tightly and began crying. He too was at a loss for words, thinking to himself, What the hell could this be? Then, without warning, he himself burst into tears.

She used the tail of her dress to wipe the tears from her eyes and blow her nose, as the words slowly escaped her lips. I am your sister Beck, Miss Beck. Trying desperately to hold back her tears, she said, Mother has sent me in search of you, where ever you are.

Noel nodded approvingly to the good news this stranger had brought to his ears. He reached out and grasped her hand, and held her tight, his knees weakening, as they hugged each other silently, while the tears that had swollen up their eyes continued flowing freely. For Noel, these tears were about how he had been separated for years from part of his family. Now his world was brought much closer to reality; no more dreaming of what the other side of his family was like. The visit was short; she would leave before night fall, as she confessed that she was afraid to ride alone at night. He quickly volunteered to ride with her across the river down to Borobridge, a much shorter distance to get back home than going around the long, winding road. This way she would reach home long before nightfall.

Daddy Stephenson listened sympathetically as he watched them exchange their thoughts. In his heart he felt a little bit guilty for not taking Noel back to look for his mother during the years since he had taken him from her. But the memory of Emily’s words was still ringing in his ear, Tek yuh bad breed pickney. I don’t want him here another day!

This kind of set Benjamin’s conscience free from any guilt. Noel had never asked or said anything about his mother. He seemed to have adapted to his situation, though at times one could see him lapse into dreamland, and one would not know what he was thinking; and being a person who hardly talked, no one paid any attention to him.

It had been weeks since Noel had promised his sister Beck to come and pay a visit and to get to know his mother. He just couldn’t seem to find the time. His days started as early as daybreak and went right up till nightfall, but things were about to change.

Daddy Stephenson’s illness had taken a turn for the worse. He summoned Noel to his bedside to have a chat.

Son, tomorrow you will go by the post office and send off some telegrams to your brothers and sisters telling them I want them to be with me this Sunday for a family gathering. It is urgent.

His two eldest sons, Gillie and Benjamin, who were named after their old man, were not on the list, as they wouldn’t be able to make it back in time. If the worst should happen, they would be notified by letter. The telegrams were sent as requested to the children and by Saturday, seven of them found their way home. None wanted to be left out; they all wanted to be there for him as he had always been there for them. Each one brought a parcel of goodies for their father and mother. Five grandchildren had also made the trip, three of whom were being seen for the first time by their grandparents.

Each arrival was like an emotional rollercoaster that started slowly and then reached a zenith of laughter, crying, and embracing, as they had all been away and had not seen each other for some time. The outpouring of joy brought other residents of the district to the Stephenson home. They too had not seen many of their friends and playmates for some time, and were very glad to be part of the excitement.

Though his face had a jovial expression, Benjamin Stephenson was feeling severe pain all over his body. His unlit pipe sticking in the corner of his mouth, he hardly said anything, but gave a broad grin each time one of his grandchildren ran towards him for a lift. The chatting continued late into the night when Girlie, one of the daughters, realized that it was time for the grandchildren to be in bed. She gathered them all together to tell grandma and grandpa goodnight.. Tomorrow was Sunday and everybody would be going to church bright and early.

Sunday morning the Stephenson clan, all dressed up, walked in a slow procession down the narrow, dusty road to church. The residents of the district all turned out. Not to be outdone was the church pastor, who was in his element. The medium-sized church was full to capacity with members standing in the aisle. The pastor stood at his rostrum, his eyes surveying his congregation, and his mind in their pockets. He must have thought to himself that that day being the day of harvest, he ought to reap what they had sown. He opened his Bible, peeped over the rim of his spectacles, and demanded that the congregation stand.

Stand and let the word of the Lord penetrate your sinful souls.

With his hands flapping like the wings of a wild bird, his first prayer lasted all of fifteen minutes. Then it was time for his message of fire and brimstone, the damnation of fire in hell for unsaved sinners. He seemed to have touched a chord in the innermost part of Benjamin’s body, for he sat still, taking in every word that seemed to fly from the pastor’s mouth into his own throat. The church brethren, seeing that the pastor was onto something special, jumped to their feet and began shouting, Hallelujah, Jesus, Jesus our Saviour! Many of them began speaking in strange tongues, and some even fell into a trance at the pastor’s feet.

With his body temperature rising to meet that of the burning midday sun, something hit Daddy Stephenson like a volcanic eruption. Being condemned to hell was too much for him. He rose to his feet and something unseen seemed to drag him to within inches of the pastor’s outstretched hands. There, in front of the rostrum, he stood, drenched with cold sweat and trembling. The pastor commanded him to kneel and bow. He instantly obeyed, and with his hand rising above his head, cried out, Jesus, Jesus , have mercy on a poor sinful soul! Have mercy, oh Lord, have mercy!

Church sisters surrounded him with outstretched hands. Some laid their hands on his head, some on his shoulders, praying for God to save his sinful heart and take him into his kingdom. Amen! Amen!

The pastor wasted no time in inviting Daddy Stephenson to be baptized next Sunday morning at the river at sunrise. The master’s wish is my command, Daddy Stephenson said, nodding his head in appreciation. Everyone gathered around the newest convert , congratulating him on the bold step he had made for the Lord. As he walked on, he felt like a new man, a man who had been reborn. The pain he had experienced over the years had suddenly disappeared. How miraculous, he kept saying to himself. God is wonderful. God is great.

At dinner all his children and grandchildren came together. Some sat around the table, some on the floor, or in any convenient space they could find. They listened keenly to what he had to say. His face lighted up. This evening for the first time his pipe would not be sitting with him at the table while he had dinner; and for the first time he decided that he was going to say grace. His wife stood gently by his side as his eyes begun to close. He prayed for all of five minutes. His children were all surprised, but no one said anything. He had been a strict disciplinarian while they were growing up, and they still experienced the same fear whenever they made eye contact with him.

Children. His voice mellowed. "I have asked you all to come and join me and your mother to have a kind of get-together so I could talk to you all for one last time. I am sorry that Benjamin and Gillie cannot be here. They are oh so far away, but their spirit I am sure is in the midst of us all. I am not feeling very well, to be frank with you all. I thought I would have passed away already. But it seems like the good Lord was waiting for this day so that I could make my way right for him. What you all witnessed at the church today was a bit of brawta to you all. Nothing was planned; it just all happened and I thank the good Lord that you could all witness this. My main reason for calling you all in one place is to