Holiday niceness on jam-packed beach … but Miss Eugena would have none of it

It's a public holiday and for Miss Eugena from Lacovia, St Elizabeth, this would normally mean a day tending her garden. But this Heroes Day, Miss Eugena is at Hellshire Beach in St Catherine with her daughter and grandchildren. And she's not entirely enthused.

"Mi never usual love di beach business, yuh know," she said standing on a roadway near to the beach. Everyone else had gone closer to the water. They weren't using the official entrance to the beach, thinking this would help them avoid the huge crowds, but Miss Eugena still opted to hang back a bit.

"True mi in town spending some time wid di family and dem seh dem want to go beach mi just come too."

I asked her why she hadn't gone closer to the water with the rest of her family.

"Mi was thinking about it, yuh know," she said, using a red rag to wipe beads of sweat from her forehead. "But too much crowd, man." She grimaced at the thought.

I told her that the beach is always crowded on a holiday. "Ah so mi ah see," she said.

WOULD RATHER TEND TO PLANTS

"Mi nuh love di crowd business, bawba! When you have too much crowd one place, man will pick pocket and yuh not even know. Ef ah never di grandpickney dem, mi woulda ah water mi flowers dem right now instead of ah rub up pan stranger."

She smiled, apparently thinking of the flowers. Across the road, a car had just pulled up. It was loaded with no fewer than nine eager beach-goers, mainly women and children, all dressed for the water. They were unloading igloos and boxes of something or the other.

"Cooh deh," said Miss Eugena under her breath. "One cyar and it have in 'bout hundred smaddy. No sah! Mi coulda neva!"

I chuckled and she looked at me incredulously. "Den you woulda want fi go inna dat deh water deh wid a million smaddy?" she asked pointing to the water.

I had to admit there really was little room left on the beach and the crowd seemed to be growing by the minute. It must have been difficult to move around.

"Same ting!" said Miss Eugena. "Mi nuh know how Jamaican people love water so. Mi coulda neva!"

A girl about five years old ran over to us. She was dripping wet and her knees and forehead were covered with sand.

"Grandma, mummy call you," she said to Miss Eugena, tugging on her blouse.

"Child, let me go!" the woman shouted. "Yuh mummy cannot call me. Tell her I will come when mi good and ready!"

The little girl ran back in the direction of the beach.

"Bright!" said Miss Eugena.

Vehicles kept pulling up and people were walking toward the beach by the dozens. I wished Miss Eugena the best of luck and took a walk closer to the water to see how people were getting on. It was a mass of humanity for sure.

A man walking by with craft items - wooden art pieces and so on - caught my attention. He sported dreadlocks and wore a white merino.

"Any figurine?" he asked.

I told him I didn't need any. He gave a friendly smile and asked if I wasn't going into the water. I suggested there was little room left for anyone else.

"Tee hee!" he laughed. "Yuh right bout dat. Ah holiday still, and dat mean niceness."

CROWD EXPECTED TO GROW

I asked the man if it was likely to get even more crowded later on.

"Yes, man!" he exclaimed. "It early now, yuh know. Dem people here is the one dem who nuh love crowd. Dem come early fi get a space. Di big crowd will come like into di evening part," he said.

I told him this was hard to fathom.

"Well, believe mi when mi seh it soon get bigger. Holiday mean beach into Jamaica. We cuss and fight, but when holiday come, everybody know seh dis mean niceness, so we put dat down and just come enjoy wi self. Yes man, holiday is time fi enjoy wi self," he said.

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