EXCERPT FROM 'BORN IN THE BRIAR PATCH 2'
He drove slowly along surveying the fields as he went. It was almost time for the harvesting of the sugar cane and he was happy with the way things had gone. Nicholas Bellamy had taught him well and he was proud of his accomplishments. Bottomsley was one of the plantations which was still productive because Alastair had followed the ex overseer’s instructions carefully and he also treated the workers well, so they were happy to work for him. However dark clouds were forming over many of the other plantations and they were being forced to cut down on their work force. Labourers were now moving from parish to parish with their families in search of work, so no-one would bat an eyelash when new faces popped up here and there.
Henley plantation was on the verge of closure, and that meant that many of the villagers could be moving away, but some of them decided to stay because they had learnt other trades and didn’t depend solely on the plantation work. It was indeed a blessing for those people of Plum Tree Village in St. Lucy who had sought to be independent through another occupation.
No one understood why it was called Plum Tree Village because there wasn’t an abundance of plum trees. If it had been called Mango Tree Village, then one could understand because there were mango trees as far as the eye could see. However those villagers who no longer had jobs, learned to fish in the turbulent waters off the cliffs, or they reap the sisal plants which they then dried and wove into baskets. They also learned the art of chair-caning. With the same dried sisal ropes, they moved from village to village repairing backs and bottoms of chairs or worked alongside the joiner doing cane work on the backs and seats of his mahogany chairs. The hawkers, most of them with broad backsides, moved around the area with trays of fish on their heads, calling out to would-be buyers. Fish! Fish! Come and get your flying fish! A car loaded with fish would also drive by calling out to customers and this would bring great confusion, because the women who moved around on foot would blame the driver for trying to push them into financial ruin. It was no competition. The motorists could carry heavier loads and therefore sell their fish at a cheaper price than the buxom hawker with her load on her head. Sometimes it became extremely entertaining when arguments broke out between them. Everyone was cursing everyone’s mother or wife or husband or children. At the end of it all, the villagers would have a good laugh when the car driver would openly offer sexual advances to the woman in exchange for staying off her territory. This would once more stir the fire when the woman who obviously had no interest in him would fire back.
“Why you don’t go home and see who your wuffliss (worthless) wife got in your bed?”
Roars of laughter and joking around would follow, forcing the driver who thought he could make mockery of the hawker to make a quick escape. Wherever he showed up, he would be teased unmercifully. He would probably be given a nickname like Wuffliss; a name which he would grow accustomed to, and would stay with him until the day he died.
“How you doing Wuffliss?” would usually be his greeting.
And he would cheerfully answer.
“I am holding on here by the grace o’ God.”
Younger children would ask their parents why Mr. So and So was called Wuffliss.
“You too young to understand,” would be the answer, “but don’t let me hear you calling him Wuffliss. To you he is Mr. Jones. You and him ain’t no company.”
It seemed as if every villager had a nickname, some of which were strange and some quite self explanatory. There was Cow Pork, Slasher, Dinga, Yesterday Cakes, Fresh Eggs, Pa Laddie, Waxy, Pebbles, Shabu, Suffer the hog, Stomach biscuits, One Hand Horny, Bottleneck and the list went on and on. Such was an example of the day to day life in Plum TreeVillage.
**
Francois Bertrand climbed the steps to Una Prescott’s home and gently knocked on the door. Harriet opened it and greeted him cheerfully.
“Afternoon Uncle Francois. How are you?”
“Very well Harriet. I just came by to see Miss Una. How is she and how are you?”
Harriet looked at him admiringly. Tall. Trim. Handsome. Well mannered and goodlooking. And most of all, very down to earth!
“I real good,” she replied while her thoughts started to stray.
One day somebody like my Uncle Francois will pass my way, she thought as she gazed at him. My aunt is the luckiest woman on this Rock.
“Is that my Francis?” shouted the old woman from the back door.
“Yes,” he replied. “I just came by to say hello and to see how you were doing.”
“Come and let me touch the flesh,” she replied. “I doing pretty good for a old woman.”
Francois sat down and held the old woman’s hand. He was paying her a visit but was also there to pick up his wife to take her to Bottomsley plantation. They talked about life in the village and Miss Una as usual dispersed her words of wisdom. Finally she told him about her sister who had left the island so many years before and had never returned.
“She was the only family I had Francis, and she promise me that when she reach Carlina and things get good, she would send for me. But that was the last thing I ever hear from Ida.”
He drove slowly along surveying the fields as he went. It was almost time for the harvesting of the sugar cane and he was happy with the way things had gone. Nicholas Bellamy had taught him well and he was proud of his accomplishments. Bottomsley was one of the plantations which was still productive because Alastair had followed the ex overseer’s instructions carefully and he also treated the workers well, so they were happy to work for him. However dark clouds were forming over many of the other plantations and they were being forced to cut down on their work force. Labourers were now moving from parish to parish with their families in search of work, so no-one would bat an eyelash when new faces popped up here and there.
Henley plantation was on the verge of closure, and that meant that many of the villagers could be moving away, but some of them decided to stay because they had learnt other trades and didn’t depend solely on the plantation work. It was indeed a blessing for those people of Plum Tree Village in St. Lucy who had sought to be independent through another occupation.
No one understood why it was called Plum Tree Village because there wasn’t an abundance of plum trees. If it had been called Mango Tree Village, then one could understand because there were mango trees as far as the eye could see. However those villagers who no longer had jobs, learned to fish in the turbulent waters off the cliffs, or they reap the sisal plants which they then dried and wove into baskets. They also learned the art of chair-caning. With the same dried sisal ropes, they moved from village to village repairing backs and bottoms of chairs or worked alongside the joiner doing cane work on the backs and seats of his mahogany chairs. The hawkers, most of them with broad backsides, moved around the area with trays of fish on their heads, calling out to would-be buyers. Fish! Fish! Come and get your flying fish! A car loaded with fish would also drive by calling out to customers and this would bring great confusion, because the women who moved around on foot would blame the driver for trying to push them into financial ruin. It was no competition. The motorists could carry heavier loads and therefore sell their fish at a cheaper price than the buxom hawker with her load on her head. Sometimes it became extremely entertaining when arguments broke out between them. Everyone was cursing everyone’s mother or wife or husband or children. At the end of it all, the villagers would have a good laugh when the car driver would openly offer sexual advances to the woman in exchange for staying off her territory. This would once more stir the fire when the woman who obviously had no interest in him would fire back.
“Why you don’t go home and see who your wuffliss (worthless) wife got in your bed?”
Roars of laughter and joking around would follow, forcing the driver who thought he could make mockery of the hawker to make a quick escape. Wherever he showed up, he would be teased unmercifully. He would probably be given a nickname like Wuffliss; a name which he would grow accustomed to, and would stay with him until the day he died.
“How you doing Wuffliss?” would usually be his greeting.
And he would cheerfully answer.
“I am holding on here by the grace o’ God.”
Younger children would ask their parents why Mr. So and So was called Wuffliss.
“You too young to understand,” would be the answer, “but don’t let me hear you calling him Wuffliss. To you he is Mr. Jones. You and him ain’t no company.”
It seemed as if every villager had a nickname, some of which were strange and some quite self explanatory. There was Cow Pork, Slasher, Dinga, Yesterday Cakes, Fresh Eggs, Pa Laddie, Waxy, Pebbles, Shabu, Suffer the hog, Stomach biscuits, One Hand Horny, Bottleneck and the list went on and on. Such was an example of the day to day life in Plum TreeVillage.
**
Francois Bertrand climbed the steps to Una Prescott’s home and gently knocked on the door. Harriet opened it and greeted him cheerfully.
“Afternoon Uncle Francois. How are you?”
“Very well Harriet. I just came by to see Miss Una. How is she and how are you?”
Harriet looked at him admiringly. Tall. Trim. Handsome. Well mannered and goodlooking. And most of all, very down to earth!
“I real good,” she replied while her thoughts started to stray.
One day somebody like my Uncle Francois will pass my way, she thought as she gazed at him. My aunt is the luckiest woman on this Rock.
“Is that my Francis?” shouted the old woman from the back door.
“Yes,” he replied. “I just came by to say hello and to see how you were doing.”
“Come and let me touch the flesh,” she replied. “I doing pretty good for a old woman.”
Francois sat down and held the old woman’s hand. He was paying her a visit but was also there to pick up his wife to take her to Bottomsley plantation. They talked about life in the village and Miss Una as usual dispersed her words of wisdom. Finally she told him about her sister who had left the island so many years before and had never returned.
“She was the only family I had Francis, and she promise me that when she reach Carlina and things get good, she would send for me. But that was the last thing I ever hear from Ida.”
