A Lada! I hadn't seen one of those in ages! - Photo by Robert Lalah

I peered over the bushes; nobody. I walked about five paces to my left and glanced up the hill; still nobody. The coast was clear. Now was my chance! I looked across the road at the old, beat up car parked outside the only shop I saw in Mount Moreland, high above sea level in St Catherine.

The shop was closed and looked abandoned and the car I was looking at was a 1970 something Lada. I didn't see anyone around, so I decided to have a look inside. I hadn't seen one of these in ages! I hopped over to the car and peeked inside. It smelled like sugarcane and wet socks and there were cob webs everywhere.

The seats were in tact though, and the steering wheel was where it was supposed to be. I was surprised that it was in as good a condition as it was. I had been in the area for close to an hour and had seen no one, and there seemed little else to do there, so I took one more look around and then sat inside. "Heh Heh," I chuckled to myself, having, I realise now, far too much fun.

I looked around and moved the steering wheel from side to side and chuckled again. Otherwise, there was complete silence, the kind of silence you get only when you go that high up into the mountains.

Then without warning, the silence was shattered. "Ah who dat? Hello! But Pupa Jeezas ah wah dis?" someone shouted. Shocked and caught completely by surprise, I jumped out of the car and almost into nearby bushes in one giant leap. I stood up straight and looked around with, I'm sure, an intense look of guilt and horror in my eyes. About 100 yards ahead of me stood a short, chubby woman with wrinkled, dark skin and graying hair.

Awkward moment of silence

She was sporting a red dress with a belt that she wore just below her bosom. I greeted her and told her my name. She eyed me curiously. "So is what you doing around here?" she asked, suspiciously. I told her I was interested in finding out about Mount Moreland. "Eh" was all she said as she continued to look me over.

There was an awkward moment of silence as she stared at me and I stood there trying to look like I wasn't trying to steal her car. Finally, she nodded and gestured for me to follow her. As I did, I noticed that the woman walked with a pronounced limp. She seemed to have been leading me to the nearby shop. There was a sign on the door with the words 'George's Shop' and a cigarette company poster was plastered all along the walls.

"Mi name Carmen," the woman said as she dusted off an old wooden stool and offered me a seat. As we sat, I asked her what the community was like.

"Well, mi live here a good time now, for mi old now and mi live here from mi was a lilly pickney. Tings change now, though. You have more people coming up here to live, but up here still quiet. Not a lot a noise and frustration like inna di town place dem," she said. I asked her how many people lived there. "Den how mi fi know dat? After mi nuh siddung and count dem," she quipped. "Is a big place, for it spread out wide over di hill, but a nuh really nuff people when you check it. Maybe bout 500," Miss Carmen said, rubbing her forehead.

"Hold on deh," she said, putting a finger in the air. "Maizie! Maizie!" the woman shouted. "Yes Mama," a voice replied. "Come here child," Miss Carmen said. A slim, rather fragile-looking young girl soon ran up. She was about 13 years old and was wearing a green dress and no shoes.

"Yes Mama?" the girl said. "Child, is how much people live inna Moreland?" Miss Carmen asked. "Mi don't know Mama," the girl replied. "What?!" the woman shouted. "How you mean yuh nuh know? Wah yuh think mi a send yuh go school fah? Look yah pickney, nuh come upset mi spirit today," Miss Carmen was shouting now.

Fearful eyes

I almost felt guilty for asking the question. "Four hundred, Mama," Maizie replied quickly, her eyes fearful. "Alright.

You done sweep up di yard?" Miss Carmen asked. "No Mama," the girl responded, sheepishly. "Den go back go done it and look pan di pot fi mi. Nuh mek it bwile over," Miss Carmen redirected her attention to me. "Most a dem nuh really work outside a di area, so yuh find dat most a dem have some shop inna dem yard and di rest a dem grow food and sell," she said.

I asked her where everyone else was, the place seemed rather lonesome.

"How mi fi know dat? If you want fi know dat, den you haffi go ask dem. Afta mi naw falla back a dem!" the woman replied. A bit red in the face, I decided to end the conversation there and thanked the woman for her time. "Alright son, and mi not selling di motor car you hear? So next time don't come teck nuh test drive!"

robert.lalah@gleanerjm.com