Exploring Hill Run!

It's hardly ever a good thing when a man carrying a machete walks up to you, whispering obscenities. Worse yet, if it happens on a lonely, country road with nothing but overgrown bushes all around. A frightful thought. Lucky for me, the machete-wielder who approached me on a lonely country road the other day, had far more burning matters on his mind and so, had little time to consider making pig feed of me. Whew.

"It nah go happen again, yuh know. It nah go happen again," said Ralston the pig farmer as he approached me in Hill Run, St Catherine. He was looking angry and wore waterboots and a cap turned back-way.

I said hello to him as he got closer.

"Eh, oh yeah man. Morning to yuh," he said, still frowning. He stopped walking and took the cap from his head. He was sweating heavily and used the back of his right hand to wipe his forehead. I told him he was the first person I had come across since getting to Hill Run about 20 minutes earlier. That's when he chuckled and told me his name was Ralston.

Iron head

I asked him what was troubling him. "Nuh di idiot Bwoy Bwoy," he said, emphatically. I asked him who that was. "Mi big son weh deh ah yard. I don't know if him head meck outa iron, but him nuh have no sense at all!" Ralston yelled. I told him that seemed a little harsh.

"Is cause yuh don't know him. From him is a pickney him giving me worries and now him is a big old bwoy and him still nuh have no sense," he continued.

I asked Ralston what Bwoy Bwoy had most recently done to tick-off his father.

"Him go buy clappers and dem fire rocket business and go bun off him finger dem!" Ralston said.

"Yikes," I replied.

"Him finger dem black and blue. If him was a likkle pickney, is one ting yuh know, but him is bout 20-odd now and him head still tough," said Ralston, shaking his head with a pained look in his eyes.

I asked how the accident happened.

"Him and him friend dem ah play and him go tell dem seh him strong so him can hold clappers into him hand and when it buss, him nah go feel nothing. Well, him go do it and nearly bun up him whole hand," Ralston explained. I started chuckling, but couldn't keep it up for very long. The shame in the eyes of the long-suffering father caused me to hold it in.

Bruised ego

Ralston said the accident had only occurred that morning. The victim of the burn was said to be fine, astonishingly suffering only minor burns and a well-bruised ego. This, despite the fact that Ralston said neighbours as far as three houses away could smell the burning flesh.

"So when people hear him bawl out and smell di flesh, everybody swear seh him dead. When dem run come, dis fool stand up deh ah look pon him hand," said Ralston.

The smell of toasted dimwit was too much for the annoyed father to stomach, so he grabbed his machete and stormed out of the house. He was on his way to his farm when I met him.

He didn't want to hang around and chat much longer, so I quickly asked him about Hill Run.

"Everybody around here do some kinda farming. Some do it big and some just do a likkle ting," he said.

"Hill Run deh back ah God, so yuh nuh really hear nothing from around here. Is a good ting too, for if news fi reach ah road bout dat tough-head pickney, mi woulda haffi walk and hold down mi head. It better when nobody nuh know where yuh live, yuh hear. It work out better fi everybody," he said.

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

Feedback

The following are some of the feedback letters to Roving with Lalah.

Dear Robert,

Listen to me man, I am going to have to charge you my medical bill when I have a bad asthma attack! I am just reading your article about your trip through the gorge and man, let me tell you, is ground me and my daughter reach! We laugh until we weak! This one is the best! Keep it up.

- Max

Dear Robert,

Thanks for your articles, I do enjoy them.

- Leroy

Dear Robert,

I love your articles.

- M.W.

Dear Robert,

Be thankful for the gift that God has given you. You are a great writer.

- D.S.