“Out of many, One People” is the Jamaican motto. My husband, Chuck, and I traveled to Jamaica for our friend’s wedding. While the all inclusive resort was lovely, we wanted to meet locals and see a real Jamaican neighborhood. This 146 mile long island is home to 3 million people. J. Robinson, “Robbie,” took us into town so we could experience the resilient people of this country.
Our bus driver from the airport had said, “It takes 15 years to build our dream. Most people don’t qualify for loans or government assistance, so they slowly build what they can on their land or they have to rent.” Homes in the region have been built one wall at a time. Cement blocks are stacked as soon as one can afford to purchase needed materials.
Preparation
To prepare for our trip into town, I had stopped by the hotel desk to exchange American dollars for Jamaican money. Both clerks shook their heads, then nodded as if they’d choregraphed their response. “American dollar is best.”
The Fenced Market
“Now. I be wit ya.” Robbie reassured us as we parked the resort van along the street. “Dey can be pushy, but it’s dere livin’, ya know, mon.” Robbie advised as we entered the fenced courtyard with long, dark narrow booths along the perimeter. When we walked through the gate I was overwhelmed with attention. “Come see my sister’s boot!” a young woman guided me. A man in a wheelchair, “Hey, don’t forget ’bout me! I got bracelets for you, my lady.” He called. “I got music here, mon.” Another attendant called out. “I can braid yor hair, Miss.” two women flanked me as I stepped toward ‘my sister’s boot.’
An older man with white dred locks and a long, stiff beard approached me. “Come see dis.” He gestured toward his booth. “I no kidnap you. See.” He directed me to a maze of knee-high wooden carvings that stood on the patio tiles staring at me. I turned to the man. His blue, clouded eyes reached into my soul. “You touch one.” He offered holding up a piece of wooden art. “I make dese.” He said with pride. “There beautiful, but I wouldn’t be able to fit one in my suitcase.” I shook my head apologetically.
“Here,” a lady put a bracelet in my hand. “You like?” She nodded, begging for agreement. “Yes.” I answered. “Five dollar.” She smiled. Robbie pulled me aside, “If you touch it, you’ll buy it. Don’t touch anything you don’t want to buy.”
Another woman approached, “See dis? You need dis dress. I have nice dress.” She held up a green, yellow and black tunic under my chin showing off the nation’s flag colors. Another woman sidled up to me. “I can braid your hair, my lady.” “No thank you.” I smiled. “Oh, but just try it. One, two or three braids. It won’t take long.” She followed me to the next booth. “I’m just doing my job.” she looked downward, defeated. “I really can’t. No thank you.” I said more forcefully while trying to be respectful.
The blue eyed gentleman with the statues called to me as we walked toward the exit, “Don’t you forget me!” I slipped him a five dollar bill. “I will always remember you.” I smiled back as we headed back to the van.
The man in his wheelchair was suddenly beside me putting a bracelet on my wrist. “You like?” his toothless grin beamed as his eyes widened. Chuck picked up something from his booth and handed the gentleman a bill saying, “Thank you.” It all happened so swiftly.
“Are you two all set?” Robbie asked. “Ah, sure.” I answered, thinking how each vendor could have used our support and we’d only bought from a few.
“Robbie!” an enthusiastic call came from across the street. Robbie waved to the man. “Hey!” He called out brightly above the trudge of traffic and the heat radiating from the pavement. Then Robbie turned to us. “The next market isn’t so much pressure. It be calmer, mon.”
The Farmer’s Market
We entered a roadway filled with blue tents where clothing, fruit and crafts were being sold. Suddenly, a van drove right down the middle of the blacktop. I didn’t think it’d fit, but I stepped aside as the driver confidently pushed through the space.
Jamaican Apples
“Dis is Jamaican apple.” Robbie held a bright red, oblong shaped fruit. “It’s sweeter dan American apple. You want some?” I nodded. Robbie switched into a thick Patwa language which is a mixture of English and creole. “Wah Gwaan!” (What’s up?) He addressed the lady sitting at the booth. He requested a bag of apples. I asked, “How much?” “Tree dollar.” The woman held out one hand while pushing a clear plastic bag of apples toward me.
With the humidity and the heat radiating off the blacktop, I was thirsty and anxious to eat juicy fruit. I pulled one out of the bag. It was dusty, so after I slurped a drink from my water bottle, I rubbed some liquid on the outer skin of the fruit. Taking a bite, the texture and taste reminded me of a pear. I offered Chuck and Robbie a snack. Each willingly ate a Jamaican apple.
Ackee Fruit
“Robbie, do they have ackee fruit here?” I inquired about their special fruit used in their national dish, ackee and saltfish. “Right here!” he called me over to a nearby table. “Dis is ackee.” He held up a whole piece of fruit. (top right) “If you eat it like dis, it be poison.” He raised his eyebrows for emphasis. “But you wait till it opens and pick out da black seeds. Den you take out da meat. Dese bags here are ready to buy.”
“You cut up onions and peppers. Cook in oil. Den you add boiled ackee and saltfish. Dat’s da Jamaican way, mon.”
We’d seen an ackee blossom on a tree when we had rafted down the Martha Brae River. (bottom right)
A woman with one arm sat behind the table pulling out the black seeds. Then she removed fleshy part of the plant and added it to a clear bag. I asked if I could take a picture of the fruit. She nodded. I slipped her a tip as I thanked her for teaching me about ackee.
Ackee and Saltfish Breakfast
The next day at breakfast I was thrilled to see ackee and saltfish at the buffet. The consistency reminded me of scrambled eggs with peppers, onions and cubes of fish. It was delicious!
The Fish Market
Ocho Rios used to be a small fishing village. Today, fishing, using tiny boats, still plays an enormous part of many resident’s livelihoods.
Jamaican History
In 1494 Christopher Columbus landed in Jamaica. The Taino inhabitants, who’d been there for centuries, were slowly exterminated as Spanish settlers moved to the island. In 1655 England took command and brought African slaves to work on plantations: sugar, cocoa and coffee. 1884 marked the abolition of slavery.
The Jamaican people joined the other Caribbean colonies’ Western Federation of the Indies in 1958. Three years later Jamaica left this group and gained full independence in 1962. They still identify as part of the British Common Wealth.
Bob Marley
Jamaican music has impacted the world. In the 1950’s Ska and Rocksteady styles had set the foundation for Reggae and Dancehall. Murals, posters, clothing and magnets of Bob Marley show reverence for the Reggae artist throughout the country. During his short life (1945-1981), he influenced many areas of the entertainment. Later, both Hip Hop and EDM genre have branched off.
We recommend the signature Bob Marley cocktail at Sandals!
The Grocery Store – Jamaica’s Economy
Why was the American dollar a preferred currency? What’s their economy like? Robbie took us to a grocery store. “I like da freedoms we have in Jamaica. You can do what you want. ” I raised my eyebrows wanting further explanation. “You can walk the streets with a beer. I have property, tanks to my father-in-law, and I can build on it to make a better life.” Robbie was so positive.
The grocery store prices told another story. Yes! You read the sign correctly. Beans were “Buy One Get One Free” for $290.00 Jamaican dollars. That would be about $3.00 American dollars.
As he rounded the corner, Robbie lit up when he saw a worker shelving goods carefully. They exchanged some pleasantries. Chuck joked, “How long have you two been dating?” Robbie said, “No, mon,” He laughed. “I be married. We have a five year old daughter.” He kindly clarified.
“ROBBIE!”
As we crossed a gas station which displayed the price of $288.00 Jamaican dollars for one liter of fuel we heard, “ROBBIE!” Another man greeted his pal from a distance. The two met and chatted using Patwa. Then he turned to us, “I reach out to dem and treat dem well. I’m a church goer, mon.”
“Hey, how’d ya like to go to da beach?” Robbie suggested. “You can meet my wife. She works dere.” “That’s be great! How did you two meet?” Chuck asked. “I play drums in a band. We was playin’ and I saw her cross da way. I asked her out and she said, ‘No.’ So I waited and asked again. She finally said, ‘Yes!’ Our girl es Jammalyn. She es already five and smart.” Robbie voice lilted as he spoke of his daughter. “My life changed wit dat baby girl, mon.”
The Beach
We briefly met Robbie’s wife at the ticket booth where she was employed. Then we were let into the park without paying an entrance fee. “Dey know me.” Robbie smiled.
We are different. We are da same. Ya know, mon?”
The Jamaican People
The thoughtful staff had wanted me to get to my destination safely.
The Jamaican people struck me as resilient and charming. With very few material items and only short ranged plans, the people of Ocho Rios live in the moment and appear to be peacefully content. The song, “Don’t Worry, Be Happy.” swam through my mind. From the grocery store to the resort, the workers took pride in doing a good job. There’s a pureness in purpose. I will always carry this lesson with me.
Related Links
Restless Viking merchandise is available!
Resources:
Robbie
Jamaica The World Factbook
