Robert Lalah, Staff Reporter
Left: Hyacinth Bennett rocks the day away in her favourite chair on the veranda of her home.
Right: Marlon Facey is a proud Muslim. He is even prouder of the relationship he has with his Christian neighbours. - PHOTOS BY NORMAN GRINDLEY/DEPUTY CHIEF PHOTOGRAPHER
NOW, DON'T get me wrong, I love a little peace and solitude as much as the next guy. But from past experiences, I thought the people of St. Mary might have been taking things a bit too far. After all, the last time I went there, the most exciting thing I could find to occupy my time had to do with a sidewalk that had just been repaved with wet cement, and a clock. Needless to say, I hadn't been back there since.
But anyway, far be it from me to write off an entire parish just because of one uncommonly boring episode. So, along with photographer Norman Grindley, I packed up the car and headed out to the 'banana parish'. Of course, with board games and crossword puzzles in tow, just in case.
TRIP TO ST. MARY
The trip to St. Mary from Kingston wasn't that bad. We took the Junction route, passing places like Castleton Gardens and Whitehall. A few - let's say - scantily-clad women, taking their morning dip in a river, waved to us as we passed by. Good times. But after that, well, there was only a vast selection of shrubbery growing on both sides of the road to look at. Nothing fun about that.
We got to St. Mary just before midday. There was a slight drizzle and the sky was grey.
We just drove without stopping, through town after town, looking for something interesting. Eventually, after seeing more wild shrubbery than anything else, we decided to stop at a tiny wooden shop on the roadside to chat with somebody, anybody, who could tell us where a good place to visit would be. The second I got out of the car, I heard a man say:
A STORY TO TELL
"Hello! Is me you come to?" I turned around. Sitting on a bench made of bamboo was an ageing man with white dreadlocks. He was barefooted and was holding an unlit cigarette in his right hand.
"Ah ... no," was the reply.
"But is me you must come to. I am the man you want to talk to," said he.
I inched closer to the car.
"Don't run away. Come man. I am Thomas Delarue. I have a story to tell you." Curiosity made me stay and listen. The dreadlocked storyteller went into an elaborate tale of his days of being a bank robber in the United States. I chuckled. Because he was sitting so close to a bar, I thought he was just in high spirits. He continued. "But then I get hold in 1973 for robbing a bank in Kingston. I spend 21 years in the Spanish Town prison." Then he mentioned something about wanting to go back. We sped away, leaving him in a cloud of dust.
'WELCOME TO ALBANY'
We passed a signpost that read 'Welcome to Albany'. We were about to drive right through the community, when I noticed a dark-skinned woman wearing the traditional Muslim headdress, standing at the steps of a large church. Strange mix. Then I noticed another woman in the same kind of headdress, standing behind the counter of a shop. She was completely covered. I could only see her eyes. We decided to stop here for a while.
When we got out of the car we noticed two men at a carpenter shop by the side of the road. One was sitting while the other was busy sawing something.
"Hi, I am Marlon Facey, but my Islamic name is Iesa," said the sitting bloke, extending his hand for a shake. The other man was Tyrone Munroe. "Tell us a bit about Albany," said I.
The men told us that the community was made up primarily of persons of the Islamic faith. But, there were also several Christians there as well. "The main thing about Albany is how peaceful the place is. We all live together peaceful and there is no problem at all," said Marlon.
"All of us mix up. No matter who is Muslim or Christian. My grandmother is Christian and she don't have a problem with me. All of us help each other, no matter what."
The people of Albany don't drink alcohol or gamble. In fact, it was the only community we came across where there wasn't a single bar. The Christians only listen to gospel music, and the Muslims, no music at all. The favourite pastime of the young people is football. The teams are evenly mixed with Muslims and Christians.
Marlon took us to meet his grandmother. She was sitting on a rocking chair on the veranda of her small house just down the road.
WE ALL ARE ONE
Her name is Hyacinth Bennett and she was born in Albany. She proudly told us that she is a staunch Christian. "This is the most peaceful community anywhere. It doesn't matter who is Muslim or Christian. When it come down to it, we all are one," she said. As she spoke, a few chickens were roaming freely in her living room.
"I love Albany. I born here and never leave, so you must know..." CRASH! A loud noise came from inside the house. "But a wha dis!" she jumped up and ran into the house. "Shi fowl!" she shouted, and the mischievous fowls scampered away. "Out of order!" she whispered as she returned.
Ceymore Spencer was sitting with Ms. Bennett on the veranda. "People can learn from us here. We have other problems, but not with each other. I am Christian, but I respect the Muslims very much. Them kind and helpful," he said.
SMALL COMMUNITY
We chatted a while with the pair and then left, with Marlon as our guide. We walked through the small community of about 400 residents. Almost directly across the street from a freshly painted church was a mosque. We asked Marlon if he could introduce us to the Muslim woman we had seen when we first got to the community.
"That kind of technical, 'cause you would have to consult her husband and he's not here," he replied. Marlon did, however, take us to meet 'Sister Amina', who was cutting pieces of coconut in the kitchen of her home. She was also completely covered in a white and orange gown and headdress. We weren't allowed to photograph her, but Sister Amina spoke freely. "In this one yard, you have my husband who is Muslim, my father who is Adventist and my mother who is Church of God. We all live together, because we are all the same," she said.
So at the end of the day I had to eat my words. There is nothing dull about St. Mary. Having found so much character and class in only one tiny community, the parish must be a real gem.
