Ras Oliver takes a break from working in his field to have a chat.

It was while struggling up the rocky mountainside a few steps behind my guide that I asked him what his name was. He wore a red, green and gold tam and carried a large, wooden cane.

"I and I name Jah Okra," I heard him say. I chuckled. "Sorry, I didn't hear that. I thought you said Jah Okra. Hee Hee!" I chuckled, but stopped short when my guide suddenly halted and turned to me. "I and I name Jah Okra. Is a name dat I and I have from creation," said he, solemnly. I sobered up and we continued up the hill. As we walked, I silently reviewed my decision to go on this journey with a man I now found out was named after a slimy, green vegetable.

You see, I had met him by the side of the road in a place called the Red Light District in rural St Andrew, not far from Irish Town. I had asked him about the area and he seemed eager to take me to what he called his Rastaman community on the hillside where, he said, he would be able to share more about the place.

Frightening climb

The climb up the hill was frightening. There was a steep fall on either side and more than once, I contemplated turning around and running in the opposite direction. I figured Jah Okra wouldn't realise I was missing until I was long gone. Soon enough though, we made it to the top and Jah Okra spoke up. "Dis is where I bredrin live in unity," said he. I was just happy to be on level ground.

Jah Okra and I took a few more steps before he let out a yelp I did not see coming. "Natty!" he shouted. "Fireball! Bingi!" A lone voice responded. "Oy!" Jah Okra told me to follow him down a slope. The air was cool and all I could see around me were tall trees and green mountains. Soon, there was a clearing and I noticed another dreadlocked man wielding a cutlass in the middle of what looked like a vegetable garden. He walked over to us and Jah Okra introduced him as Ras Oliver.

Now Ras Oliver is known as an elder in the community and quite rightly so. He was born at the house in which he now lives and has spent all his life, nearly 60 years, in the Red Light district.

I asked him how the place got its name.

"Well really di place rightful name is Middleton, but people always call it di Red Light district. What happen is that a house that is over there on that hill top," he paused and pointed to his left. "A white woman used to live in that house and she used to have a red light on the roof. She was a prostitute and she used to turn on the red light to signal to the soldier dem at Newcastle that she was home, so dat dem coulda come visit," said Ras Oliver, giggling. I could see the house high on the hill. Ras Oliver said that it was now unoccupied.

"Well, around here you mainly have coffee farmers still. Everybody grow a likkle something fi survive. You have a lot a people grow roses up here too. The earth up here is very good, so everything grow up here," said Jah okra.

The men told me that about 1,000 people lived in the community and that a crime hasn't been committed there in ages.

Different kind of place

Jah Okra says he would never leave the Red Light district.

"No man! Nothing like that. This is our place and we all live together in unity. This is a different kind a place. People leave dem garden without fence and nobody trouble it. We all responsible for each other place. Is so we live up here." Ras Oliver was emphatic.

I was distracted by a tingling sensation on my leg. I looked down quickly to see my entire right foot covered with the biggest black ants I've ever seen! I believe my exact exclamation was "Lawd Jeezas!" which elicited a rather unwelcome bout of raucous laughter from the Rastamen. To my relief, Jah Okra used a towel to brush the ants from my foot, even as he laughed. After a couple minutes, I was ants free. I truly was saved by Jah.

In all the commotion, a few other members of the community turned up. There was a short fellow with curiously neat eyebrows whose first words to me were something along the lines of whether I was from Iraq. Ras Oliver interjected. "Well, this is just we around here. We grow wi own food and live good wid each other. Up here in the hills, we don't believe in the war and crime. Di rest of Jamaica need to come and see and den follow how people live wid each other in the Red Light district. Di world would be better off!"

robert.lalah@gleanerjm.com

The climb was tedious and more than once, I contemplated turning and running in the opposite direction. - photos by Robert Lalah