Sweet sweet Wakefield!

"Dem pretty, don't it?" said the man in the short pants. He was right. The lines of trees seemed to go on for miles. From where he and I were standing, it was like staring at a painting.

The man yawned and stretched his arms over his head. I had met him soon after arriving in Wakefield, St Catherine, that morning.

Wakefield is not far from Linstead but once you're there, you feel like you're in the middle of nowhere. It doesn't take long to realise that oranges are a big part of the place. There were more orange trees than people there. If Middle Quarters in St Elizabeth is shrimp country, Wakefield is, without question, orange country.

I looked at the man. He was balding and had droopy eyes. He was wearing muddy waterboots. He had a machete tucked inside his left boot.

I asked him if he was a farmer. "Yeah man, but mi nuh fool 'round wid di orange dem," he said.

"Mi plant up likkle pumpkin and pitata."

Suddenly, there was a shout from behind.

"Mi is a orange planter! Talk to me. Dis yah man nuh know nothing bout orange."

I turned around to find a taller man also wearing waterboots. He had a broad grin and was walking towards us.

"I am di official orange man. Meck wi teck a interviews," he said.

The man in short pants was at this point fuming, and glared menacingly at the interloper.

"Di man di tell yuh seh him tecking up interviews?" he asked of the taller man.

"All di while yuh do it! All di while! See tings and low dem nuh? Yuh just inna everyting like water!"

The tall man looked down at his accuser but said nothing. He then turned to me.

"Is orange yuh asking about?" he said, calmly.

I told both men that I was just trying to find out about the place.

They remained quiet, so I asked if many people lived in Wakefield.

"Is a good amount yuh know," said the man in short pants. "Me live into a section name Back Land. It more up on di hill part," he said, pointing behind him. The other man chimed in.

"But is not Back Land alone," he said. "People scatter all bout."

Pleasant woman

I told the men that I had earlier met a very pleasant woman who goes by the name Georgia, just outside a church. I told them that the woman had explained to me that oranges grown in Wakefield were sweeter than any other.

Both men laughed. "Is true," said the taller man. "Di soil good fi di citrus. Yuh haffi know when fi plant it though."

I didn't see many houses in the area, or people for that matter. In fact, these two men and the friendly Georgia were the only people I had met all day.

I mentioned this to them.

"Di house dem scatter bout di place, man. Yuh nuh must see dem if yuh don't know di place good," said the taller man.

Then, he said: "So where Georgia was going when yuh see har?" he asked in a hushed tone.

I immediately noticed a scowl appearing on the other man's face.

I explained that I wasn't sure but that she was heading down hill after we spoke.

The man in short pants looked like he was about to explode. His eyes were wide.

"What mi tell yuh? Eh?" he said, pointing at the other man.

"Mi tell yuh fi see tings and low dem. Everyting yuh want to know! Cho! Don't ask nothing bout Georgia! Don't ask nothing!" he shouted.

I managed to slip away before the other man responded.

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

Feedback

The following is feedback to last week's Roving with Lalah.

I thoroughly enjoyed this one. One question though..where did the fly go?!

- AAA

Love this one, Lalah. Strong, hardworking, independent women.

- Shakka

Thanks a lot, Lalah. I am from St Elizabeth, and shrimp is one of my favourite snacks. How I miss home!

- Candy

Hardworking women making an honest day's pay for themselves and their families. Fantastic!

- JD