A tree for all

It's not something you hear often these days, but business is good in Half-Way Tree, St Andrew, for Christmas tree salesmen who've made the annual sojourn from their homes in the mountains high above the metropolis. They do it every year and have become a staple on the sidewalks outside a string of plazas. Their arrival signals the unofficial start of the holiday season, and for Ralston from Penlyne Castle in the Blue Mountains, this year has started with a bang.

"Di tree dem selling, man," he said, while he tied a newly sold tree to the top of a burgundy SUV. "We can't too complain too tough."

It was still a couple weeks till Christmas Day, and sales tend to really heat up in the days just before the 25th, but Ralston was still feeling merry. "Last year, di ting slow up pan wi," he said. "We never really get nuff sales to dat. It start out good this year, so we only have to hope dat it don't fall down as di time pass."

Meredith, a strapping woman with formidable biceps and an apparently intractable stand-off-ish scowl, was not pleased with Ralston's pronouncements. "Mek yuh chat so much?" she yelled. "When yuh seh dem ting deh and put yuh goat mout pan di ting, den yuh know seh it ah go cause di ting fi dry up," she said. I was about to intercede on poor Ralston's behalf, hoping to clear him of the charge of making ill-timed declarations; however, apparently sensing my plans, he gave me a quick jab in the ribs with his elbow and whispered, "Eh eh." I remained quiet. Meredith went on.

"All yuh ah do is tell gunman and old jing bang seh dem must come tek weh we space and money. Yuh just chat too much, man," she said before storming off.

When she was well out of ear-shot, I asked Ralston if she was always that cranky. "Cho! Nuh watch she, man," he said. "Is just fi har way dat. Memba seh she live up inna di hill dem, so she nuh used to di crowd so much. When she come down, she get miserable till we go back up."

A woman pushing a baby stroller laden with only a cardboard box, pulled up in front of us. "How much fi di likkle tree?" she asked, her eyes squarely fixed on me. I pointed to Ralston and said he should know. Chuckling, the man pointed to a tree not far from where we were standing. "Dat one yuh talking?" he asked. The woman with the stroller nodded but said nothing.

"Oh, dat one sell already. Di man pay fi it dis morning, but him gone for him cousin van fi pick it up," Ralston said.

The woman frowned. "I don't ask yuh bout any man and him cousin. I ask yuh about di tree. I am here. Him is not. If yuh want the tree to sell, then yuh need to answer me."

Ralston grimaced. "Lady, mi just telling yuh dat yuh can't get dat one to buy, so yuh don't need to know di price, for it nuh mek a difference. Is not dis mi dissing yuh."

The woman hissed and pushed off with her stroller. "Yuh can tan deh. Mi can go Woolworth go buy plastic tree. Kip yuh frowzy tree dem," she mumbled as she walked away.

"Yuh see dem ting deh?" Ralston asked me. I shook my head in empathy. "Anyway, is suh it go. People dem get miserable same like my friend deh," he said. "Mi nuh mek dat bother mi still. A Christmas tree mi sell, suh mi is just about good vibes. Nothing but good vibes fi di Christmas."

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