A visit to Three Miles market

Ahh, the market. Fresh produce, bargain prices, choices galore and ... crazy motorists speeding by at stomach-sinking speeds? Well, not normally, but hey, these aren't normal times. Last week, many vendors who usually sell in Kingston's iconic Coronation Market made their way to Three Miles, largely because part of the market was gutted in the recent hoopla, downtown. Others left to get away from all the madness. Their bills weren't going to pay themselves, however, so the goodly market folk set up shop (with tents and all) at the new spot near the Hunt's Bay police station.

Now, by last Saturday many had returned to Coronation Market, but not all had made the journey. Part of Spanish Town Road was still swinging with commercial activity, some say, the area hasn't seen in decades.

It was close to midday when I got there and after parking my car at the first available spot (nowhere near the makeshift market) and running across six lanes of traffic, almost losing the use of vital extremities thanks to a rogue minibus driver, I finally joined the crowd.

Impressed

The place smelled like onion and there must have been close to 300 persons there walking around, some clutching bulging plastic bags, others holding the hands of small children, who hardly seemed impressed by the day's events.

One vendor, Miss Pam, from Port Antonio, was sweating heavily and pulled a rag from her heavily soiled apron to wipe her forehead. I introduced myself to her as she shouted instructions to a young boy who was with her, to attend to a woman who was busy inspecting a giant head of cabbage.

"Bwoy pickney, git up and go help di woman! Mi nuh feed yuh porridge dis morning? Nuh badda come embarrass mi," she said.

I asked her how things were going. "It going well, man. Going well. Mi did was fretting if di ting dem was going to spoil because of what really tek place last week, but di ting dem moving well, man," she said, smiling.

I told her I had heard that all the vendors would have returned to Coronation Market that morning.

"Well, to tell yuh di truth, mi woulda love if dem woulda allow we to stay right here," said Miss Pam, glancing across at the boy who was collecting a $100 bill from the woman who had apparently decided to purchase the cabbage.

"Donovan, put it into a bag and tell di lady thank you!" she yelled. The boy mumbled something to the woman and handed her a black plastic bag.

Miss Pam turned back to me. "Yes, dat is true. Some gone, but we on dis side nuh really go back. We hear seh is not di whole of di market reopen, so not everybody can hold," she said.

Then, she looked around and leaned closer to me. "Mek mi tell yuh something young bwoy. Is long time I nuh sell like how mi sell since day," she said in a hushed tone.

"It more convenience fi di people dem dan over Curry. Here, di people dem driving and dem just stop di cyar and tell we what dem want. Dem not even too haffi come outa dem cyar, so everybody ah shop like grand market. Nuff of these people we never see dem before, so dem never used to go Curry, but now dat it move, dem glad!" Miss Pam said.

"People used to hear all manner of ting bout Curry, some true, some lie. But mek mi tell yuh, di people dem buying right here like dem love it more dan anywhere else. Mi ah go stay as long as dem will allow mi. Mi ah nuh wrongdoer, so if dem tell mi fi move, mi will move, but mi hope dem nuh do dat," she said.

robert.lalah@gleanerjm.com