Students enjoy meeting each other after school in Hayes, Clarendon. - photos by Robert Lalah

There's trouble afoot at the pedestrian crossing in Hayes, Clarendon.

School is out and boys and girls of varying ages and sizes are rushing towards the sidewalk. Little Rasheed is sucking intensely on what little is left of a bag juice and Shaniqua, a bright-eyed, bubbly little 10-year-old is licking her lips in jealousy.

"Just beg you likkle nuh? Mi nuh want nuff you know!" she pleaded, trying to grab the bag from his mouth. "You too beggy beggy!" was the curt response.

"Please nuh!" the girl persisted. "Mi say no!" the boy shouted, hardly moving the bag from his lips.

"Gweh! Mi nuh haffi want yuh bag juice, mi can buy mi own!" the girl retorted, fanning him off. A few seconds later, however, she resumed her request. "Just please nuh!"

A few feet away, Anthony is standing by himself at a taxi stand. He seems upset and is eyeing another little boy, Rory, with a look of deep hatred. "Nuh come near mi!" he yelled. "Mi a go tell mi bredda and him a go come down here!"

Rory seemed unmoved by the threat and stared blankly at Anthony for a while, before saying, "Shut up yuh big mouth!"

Miss Verna, the crossing guard, dressed in the customary long, white overcoat and hat, intervened. "Hello! Di two a you stop it! Wah mek di two a you always a fight?" she said. The boys glared at each other for a few more seconds, then went their separate ways. I walked over to Miss Verna and introduced myself. "Yes please. What mi can do fi you now, nice gentleman?" she said.

Now Miss Verna is no spring chicken. She was at least 70-years-old in my own estimation, and her skin showed evidence of her spending a lot of time in the sun. I asked the smiling woman if she lived in Hayes. "Well yes you know. Why? You coming to stay with me?" she chuckled. I gave an uncomfortable grin and struggled to get a very disturbing mental picture out of my head, before I managed to explain to her that I was interested in learning more about the community.

"Well mi nuh really like it any more. Is not like one time. No. One time things was nice around here. Now is too much old cruff come inna di place come give trouble. You still have the good, old-time people you know. But is not like one time," she said.

I asked her what kind of people made up the community. "Well you have all sorts. You have business people, labourers and the no-goods. Everybody is here," she said. She was interrupted by a little girl in a blue uniform, tugging at her coat. "Miss Verna, see Lisa troubling me," the girl said. "Alright mi child, tell Lisa dat if she don't behave herself, mi going to beat her," Miss Verna said, calmly. The girl's face brightened and she ran off in the direction from which she had come.

"Mi love dem you see. Anyway, mi was telling you dat is a good likkle place, but not like one time," she said.

Life den was sweet

The best part of the school day, for many students in Hayes, Clarendon, is dismissal.

I asked her what was the biggest difference between life in Hayes today and the way it was in her hey-day. "Wooo! Everything mi dear. Mi nuh have dem time deh fi talk now. Life den was sweet. Nobody never want to hurt each other or nothing. Everybody say please and thank you and howdy and goodbye," she said. "Not anymore. Nothing like dat. If mi no stand up strong some time di lilly pickney dem will lick mi down out here a morning time. It different bra," Miss Verna's eyes widened. A group of students had gathered at Miss Verna's side. Duty called and she bid me goodbye and thanked me for spending time with her as she held up her sign that read "children crossing" and walked into the roadway. "Anytime yuh passing again you must stop and say howdy," she shouted.

I certainly will.

robert.lalah@gleanerjm.com