Whitewashing is a big part of Christmas preparations in Jamaica. - photo by Hugh Stone

There's trouble brewing in the normally quiet community called Lionel Town in Clarendon.

Miss Itilda, a stout old woman with a rough exterior and eyebrows that make her seem permanently surprised, has been waiting, for more than an hour, for Junior, the boy from a nearby community whom she managed to convince to help her whitewash the two giant mango trees behind her house.

"Mi tell dat muss muss bwoy fi come as cock crow today, and all now him nuh reach! Is like him want di Christmas fi come ketch mi and di tree dem nuh whitewash!" she exclaimed. Now to hear her say it, you'd think that this was the worst thing that could possibly happen. At first, I thought this a bit odd, but, looking around the community, I could almost understand Miss Itilda's distress.

Last-minute preparations

You see, it was about a week before Christmas and it seemed as if everyone who lived in her community was making last-minute preparations to get their homes in holiday condition. There was a shirtless golden-ager next door manoeuvring a machete with impressive dexterity, a group of excited children about three houses away having great fun painting a fence and a woman across the road sweeping her driveway.

I asked Miss Itilda, when I noticed she had calmed down a bit, what was the big deal about getting the trees whitewashed by Christmas.

"Young man, is which part you born and grow?" she asked. I felt my face burning. "For is couldn't Jamaica you born!" she pressed. "You haffi whitewash di tree dem inna yuh yard when Christmus come. Mi used to haffi help mi pupa do it when mi was likkle. Me and mi bredda and sister dem. We even used to help boil up di ingredients fi do it. Dem time deh we used to do it all two week before Christmus. So is long time dis going on. Is just part a di thing," she said.

Mis Itilda was distracted by something over my shoulder, so I turned to see what it was. There was a skinny young man with a round head walking lazily up the road. He wore a pair of cut-off khaki trousers, a merino and was sucking intensely on a bag juice. "Bwoy walk up fast!" the woman shouted. This seemed to give the young man a jolt and he started to jog. "Look from when mi tell you fi come and yuh just a reach! Yuh think mi have time fi waste?" she yelled. With that, Miss Itilda gave the boy a wallop to the back of his head. "Next time you listen when mi talk!" she shouted. The poor fellow walked hastily to the trees and got to work with the brush and tin of white liquid that were waiting for him there.

I asked Miss Itilda, who seemed to have calmed down since clobbering Junior, what other preparations were left to be done before Christmas. "Man! Mi haffi go draw sorrel, tidy up di yard and mi have two dress fi sew fi mi two lilly granddaughter dem. The time is drawing nigh and mi nuh done everything. Dat is why mi nuh like when people have mi a wait so long." She said this loud enough for Junior to hear. It seemed as if he did, as his hands started moving more quickly.

"Christmas time nuh really nice like one time, but when you see di place whitewash and thing, at least you can feel a likkle good fi di holiday. Times is hard but when this time a year come around, you haffi mek yuhself merry,"she said with a chuckle.

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