The bustling town of Christiana

A flagrant traffic violation in the heart of Christiana caught the attention of a policeman standing not far from me. It was late on a Saturday afternoon and the Manchester town was packed. In the midst of all the confusion, though, Binky, a well-known handcart man was somehow fast asleep on his wooden cart, parked at the side of the road.

"Hello, sir! You cannot park there," the policeman said, standing over Binky. The handcart man jumped up with weary eyes.

"Oh, sorry boss," he said, getting himself together.

"You tired?" the policeman asked, with a smile.

"Yeah," Binky replied.

"Alright, but yuh can't park there though," the policeman said.

Binky held up his right hand and pushed off with his cart. The policeman walked away.

It was my first time in Christiana on a Saturday and I have to say, I was quite surprised by all the confusion. People were everywhere. Sidewalks were overcrowded, so the walking masses simply took to the roads. Meanwhile, jittery taxi drivers seemed unwilling to submit to the will of the crowd, so they just kept speeding along anyway. This created some nervous moments for me since, as far as I could tell, death was imminent. But oddly enough, nobody else seemed troubled. Strange.

I was standing just in front of a small bar when I heard a screeching noise.

"Lawd," a short man beside me muttered, shaking his head. Then, the screeching turned to extremely loud, nasal singing. Two women standing in the shade of a small tent set up on the sidewalk not far from where I was, were singing at the top of their lungs. One was holding a microphone that sent the deafening sounds into a giant speaker placed on a table. The two women were wearing long floral dresses and hats. It seemed they were singing gospel songs, but to tell you the truth, I could make out very little. The speakers were so loud and the singers so intent on screaming the words that all I could hear was noise. It was enough to prompt a headache. I turned to the man beside me.

"This happens every week?" I asked.

"Eh?" he replied.

I repeated the question.

"No, sah! Every week it happen," the man said.

The miscommunication was understandable, given all the noise. I looked across at the two women who were now bouncing up and down to the beat of their own tune. A small crowd had gathered around the tent, looking at them.

"Hurry up! Hurry up!" were the only words of the song I recognised.

The man beside me tapped me on the shoulder.

"When time dem mek up dem singing noise, me don't mind yuh know. But mek dem haffi tun it up so loud?" he asked.

A fair question, I told him.

"Eh? That is not what I'm saying! I only mean to say dat it too loud!" he said. I was confused and apparently it showed. The man looked me over then walked off. Meanwhile, the noise continued.

hot grabba?

In a desperate attempt to salvage what little hearing I had left, I walked quickly down the road, away from the singers.

A man walking toward me caught my attention. He was holding what looked like a long cord.

"Hot grabba! Hot grabba!" he shouted. The man attracted many looks but no buyers. Without realising, I had found my way on to the roadway. Someone bumped into me. "Man move outa di way nuh man," an elderly woman said. She was carrying two black bags full of oranges and at least one big piece of yam. She gave me an angry look and walked off.

I sprinted back over to the sidewalk. A woman sitting in front of a table laden with slippers looked up at me and grinned.

"Yuh buying anything, sar?" she asked. I told her I wasn't, but mentioned how crazy things seemed in Christiana.

"Well, is Saturday evening, yuh know," she said. "It nuh always stay like dis, but once is Saturday and yuh deh ah Christiana, yuh haffi expect it fi chuck up. Yuh nah go get weh from dat."

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

Feedback

The following are some feedback letters received to last week's edition of Roving with Lalah:

Dear Robert,

Another well-written episode. Loved it!

- JWren

Dear Robert,

Ras Potter reminds us of what Jamaica used to be like. We should all take an example from him.

- D.T.

Dear Robert,

I love your stories! Can't get enough of them. Keep it up.

- maidwoman

Dear Robert,

Always a good read. Refreshing. Keep it up, please.

- Joyce

Christiana