Her hips swayed like a clock's pendulum...
published: Thursday | June 22, 2006

Left: Mother Dirkie dances to some of her favourite tunes.   Right: Biah knocks out a beat with his handy Indian drum. - NORMAN GRINDLEY /DEPUTY CHIEF PHOTOGRAPHER

HER HIPS swayed gently from side to side like the pendulum of a well-designed antique clock. Her legs glided across the floor with cat-like precision as the pulsating beat of the drum got more intense. She moved her hands in front of her and started snapping her fingers as she mouthed the words to the song. A group of men sitting on a nearby fence started cooing as the woman made a sudden spin, kicking up a cloud of dust.

Yes, Mother Dirkie has still got it, even though it's been more than half a century since she's been doing these traditional Indian dances. Indeed, she's no spring chicken, but the ageing damsel is as nimble as she was back in the '70s when she used to tour the country with an Indian band.

NOW MOTHER DIRKIE'S LOVE FOR ALL THINGS

Indian is not uncommon in her hometown of Bushy Park in St. Catherine. In fact, the community, which is just outside of Old Harbour, is well known for being made up mostly of Indians who carry on the traditions of their ancestors. The residents get together for Indian dance festivals, cook only Indian food and wear traditional Indian clothes. What's strange is that most of them have never been to India; they're just carrying on the traditions they learned from their parents.

But I should probably explain how I got to be in the company of Mother Dirkie and her swinging hips in the first place. Photographer Norman Grindley and I visited the community early one morning and saw the woman standing behind a small house. Now the house and for that matter, the community, is by no means easy to find; it's hidden deep in a very woody area. When you're there it feels like you're standing in the middle of a cane field.

A tired-looking donkey was grazing lazily beside Mother Dirkie, and a young boy whose hair covered his eyes, was playing marbles in the dirt. She waved to us. "How are you?" she shouted. After we answered that we were well, she beckoned for us to come closer. We told the woman that we were interested in finding out about life in the community and her face lit up. "Come in and sit down. I born and grow here, I can tell you all about it," she said.

Mother Dirkie explained that about three quarters of the Bushy Park residents are 'Jamaican Indians'.

"You know, we live different from most other communities. It is very unique because of the traditions that we keep. People usually surprise when they find out about life in Bushy Park."

Mother Dirkie paused to tell Ganesh, the boy who was playing marbles in the dirt, to "run go turn off the stove." He scampered off.

"Yes, if we count it up is only a few hundred people live here, but is like one family. No matter how far the houses are, everybody know everybody," she said.

Just then a man who seemed to be in his early thirties walked up. "How you do Sar?" he asked.

Mother Dirkie introduced him as 'Biah'.

It turns out Biah is Mother Dirkie's son and quite a nifty musician. He is part of the band that plays at the Indian festivals held sporadically in the community.

"Yes man, I play the drum and the dantal and the sarangi," said he. The pained expression on my face made him realise that I had no idea what he was talking about. "Oh you don't know them. Mek mi go get them and show you." He retreated to the house and soon returned with something that looked like a saw and a long metal pipe. "This is the dantal," he said, lifting the metal pipe. "You use it with another piece of metal and it make a nice sound." The sarangi was made of horse hair and as Biah put it, is used much like a harp. "Yeah man. Real old time Indian ting dem. We just get together, eat a food, play some music and relax. We just take it easy and nuh make anything trouble we," Biah said with a smile.

Mother Dirkie came up beside me and tugged on my shirt sleeve. "You know I am an old time dancer. I win plenty competition and travel all over the country," she whispered.

expression on her face showed that she was just waiting for me to ask for a demonstration. Though I was reluctant at first, I gave in and asked. "Yes! Turn on the cassette!" she shouted to someone in the house. The woman was in a fever now. She flung off her slippers and adjusted her skirt. I was quite alarmed at the display. Soon, a crackling noise came from inside and a song in Hindi started playing. It was here that the woman started moving in ways that boggle the mind and has left images with me that I will not soon forget, no matter how hard I try.

When the song was over she caught her breath and smiled. "That is just a little bit of it. When I'm at a show I really get into it."

We eventually bid the small family farewell and were off, even though we were offered curried mangoes and roti. "Whenever you want to come back just let mi know and we will cook some food and have a good time," the woman said as we retreated.

NO WORRIES

Down the road a few Indian men were sitting on a bench under a large mango tree. As we approached, one of them got up.

"How you do brother?" He gave his name as Neville and shook my hand. Neville told us that he couldn't remember a crime being committed in Bushy Park in the 48 years that he's lived there.

"Nothing like that man. If you want ockra fi eat and you neighbour have some, you just get a scandal bag and go pick some. No worries," he said.

"You nuh have nuh gunshot a fire. You can leave your door open and go sleep. If you want a breadfruit you not even have to ask, is like one family, you just pick it," said Cory, a younger bloke who spoke up.

"That's why most people who live here only go outside when we have to, because life is so peaceful here. No problems. We just eat wi roti, play music, drink liquor and relax. We nuh trouble people. Bushy Park a really good place fi live."

* Were you moved by Mother Dirkie's moves? Well send your feedback to robert.lalah@gleanerjm.com