Our Second House Part #2

I have been racking my brain to come up with some sort of time post so that I could establish a time line of when we started living in Ochie and how long we lived there. But I am still not very clear on these dates. My first recollection of a real school was a sort of kindergarten school held in the Seven Day Adventist church in Milford. The trip from Grove to Milford would have been too long for a young child so I have to rationalize that we must have been living in Ochie when I started going there. I do remember walking up to Milford in the mornings as part of a procession of kids walking to school. You would walk down Main Street all the way to the center of town then hang a right at the stop sign (the only stop sign in the entire town) then up the road to Milford. I was too young to attend primary school when I started so my parents first sent me to this sort of pre-school that was held by the Seven Day Adventist church that was located almost directly across from what is now Ocho Rios Cemetery. I am not sure how long I stayed there but they must have thought me well for my first day at Primary turned out to be a remarkable day. It might have been a part of the evaluation process but I remember the first grade teacher asking me to read and when I did she took me by the hand and walked me over to the second grade teacher who then asked me to read again and when I did they walked me right over to the third grade teacher. So in one day I went from first to third grade. It gained me lots of kudos and admiration for being ‘smart’ but it also ensured that I would always be younger, weaker and not as physically developed as most of my class mates. This was not so good.

Moving to Bay introduced me to a lot of new stuff. I remember it as the first time seeing Junkuno dancing and the other traditions of Christmas. Being Jehovah’s Witnesses we did not celebrate Christmas so I was not exposed to most of it. In our family New Years was our special holiday. My father would get up early in the morning and mix his special concoction of milk, cream and port wine, a concoction I have tried so hard to duplicate without success; funny thing, recently I hard my brother Harry, whose culinary skills are renowned, lamenting at his similar failure. People have often asked me if while growing up as a Jehovah Witness I did not feel cheated out of Christmas. The answer is no. First, while we did not get presents or did anything special we still enjoyed many of the traditions other families did, like going to market on Christmas Eve night (maybe not staying as late), watching the bands and Junkuno dancing all week and experiencing all the firecrackers and excitement that would be going on in the Bay. Secondly, because my birthday was a few weeks after Christmas; just about when everybody else’s Christmas toys would be breaking up, out I would come with my brand new birthday toy. Being the only one with a new toy made mine feel special and memorable. How can I ever forget my green and yellow plastic guitar or the red fire truck that you could crank up and it goes by itself.

It was also while we lived here that my mother became that independent person she yearned to be. It was then that she first started working out of the house. Her first job was at Brown’s Emporium, a brand new store that had opened up in a new building located right across from where the clock tower now stands. The building is still there but there is so much congestion at that intersection that I can never get a good look at what it looks like today. Back then it was the most modern store in Ocho Rios selling general merchandise from clothing to kitchen appliances. I remember the store well, its newness, clean and open; and her happy face whenever I had a chance to visit here there. It was a happy time for her, she was in her element, meeting people and interacting with them all day. I felt like she worked there a long time but now I am not as sure as I was reminded recently (thanks Ilene) that she also worked iat another store, Lindo’s (I think the name was) that was very close by. It was located on the other side of the road and closer to the Bay area. This one I only remember vaguely.

Living in Bay was a happy time. Besides my bout with mumps (in a previous blogg) I can remember two other distinct experiences. The first was a mishap from riding my bike too close to a pedestrian. The pedal caught his pants and ripped it. It turns out that he was the town’s tailor and his clothes were special, and worst, the news of the incident got back to my father even before I even got home to give my version. I think I got a whipping for that one. The second was probably just as costly. My parents had sent me down to the Bay to go to the barber. But I snucked and went to the beach to play with my friends first. Sand got in my hair which I did not wash out carefully. Exactly half way into the hair cut the sand grains in my hair caused the barber’s only clipper to break (it was only one of those hand cranked clippers but it was high-tech then). He was mad which he let me know in no uncertain terms and in addition he was payment from my father for the repairs or replacement. My predicament was two fold; one, I had to go home walking through the town with exactly one half of my head freshly shorn while the other side still bushy and the second, and even more daunting task was having to explain to my parents that I disobeyed them.

Still Bay was a happy time. The house might have been only two rooms but it was a house of love and sharing. I remember Bill being there and recently I also learned that both Bernice as well as Aunt Little (more on her later) stayed with us there while they attended additional schooling.

Living in Bay was a happy time.

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A Visit to Lucky Hill

While in Jamaica for the funeral (Uncle Bullion) I took the opportunity to make one last trip up to Lucky Hill. This trip was extra special because I had the company of my sister. Since we have grown up I think this is the first time I have had her to myself for almost a whole day alone!

Also special was that I had the chance to see Bernice (Sue) who I have not seen since I was a teenager I think.

Here are some pictures from
Lucky Hill:

Lucky Hill has not changed, if anything it has gotten smaller it seems. Areas that I thought was miles away turns out to be not so far after all, and houses that I thought were so big were really tiny. It was revelation to me how a child’s eye view and that of a grown up cold be so different. Take for example walking to school in the morning. I remember this as a grueling huge distance with corners and turns and the road going on forever. It turns out that the actual distance was about a mile, if so long!

Jeffery Town school (My First Fight) was still there but it looked so small and not at all like I remembered it. Besides the bright yellow and green colors, the building is half as big as I remembered it and the playground was almost nonexistent. The same play ground I remembered at recess you would full games of cricket, football, chevy-chase, jump-rope, gig and marbles going on all at the same time.

My visit to Luck Hill was an eye-opening experience of how a child’s view of spatial things and a grown-up’s view is so much different!

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Uncle Bullion's Funeral

It has been over a month since my uncle’s (Uncle Bullion) funeral but I have not had a chance to update my blog. Below are links to some of the pictures taken during the visit to Jamaica.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/27040491@N06/sets/72157616733145438/
http://www.flickr.com/photos/27040491@N06/sets/72157616643537681/

It is unfortunate that the reason for the trip was his passing. But just like spring follow winter so does rejuvenation follows death. His death, while sad, was a vehicle for enlivening the family bond; re-energizing old linkages and building new ones. His passing while sad was a vehicle for making the Davis family bond stronger, bigger and deeper. Were he able to see it, I know he would have felt as happy and proud as I was of this special family.

The funeral itself was sad as funnerals are but it was also a joyous occasion. The service was packed, standing room only. His brothers officiated; Dixon lead us in prayers and Hugh did the eulogy. His burial was at his beloved New Hope, next to his wife. Driving up that very steep, curvy, rocky and unpaved country road up to New Hope was an adventure. But having arrived; the good food, happy gathering, superb vista and the opportunity to touch and re-connect with family that you have not seen in so long and be introduced to ones that you have never seen made the evening an unforgettable joy!

How fitting…, as he did in life so he did in passing, bringing happiness to all!

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Why I love my Uncle Bullion (Charles Davis).

He is in the back row on the left above and next to him is my father.

I heard today that my favorite uncle died. He died at the advance age of 97 years. I would say he had not only a long life but a good life too. While I did expect his passage I will miss him. I will miss his touch, the way he cocks his head when he talks to you, that forever smile that says ‘everything is going to be alright’ and that long lanky gait he had when he was younger, tackling those hills going up from Parry Town up to his house. I was secretly hoping to have one more chance to sit with him and hear from his own mouth some more of the family history. Now that will never happen and all that knowledge and family history died with him. I will miss the knowledge but I will miss him more!

From earlier conversations here is what I gather about his history. He was born in Lucky Hill on April 20, 1912 and started school there but finished up in Kingston where he was living with his sister, Sister Lou (Louise Davis). He started working in Kingston too, first as electrician then driving but with the end of WW II (1945) he gave up driving and was never behind the wheel of a car again. I never heard the full story of why. But what was surprising about his youth was that he was politically very active. To do this in a family that was so astutely Jehovah’s Witnesses would have taken some doing. But I have heard from other sources that as a youth he was very active in the Jamaica Labour Party (JLP); that he traveled the island extensively canvassing votes and was very prominent in party gathering. He said however that he himself never voted.

In 1945 he dedicated himself to Jehovah and has been a ardent Witness ever since. As a young man he left Kingston and came to Ocho Rios (Kellington) where he married Violet. They set up residence in Parry Town where he has lived ever since. While there he became a tradesman; a skilled masonry, carpenter and builder in the Ocho Rios community. Together they had six children: Lillian, Rudley, Sonia, Robert, Sutcliff and Yann.

My uncle was not rich but I have never known him to ask for a dollar. He was always self supporting and a good provider for his family. But what he might have lacked in material wealth me more than made up for in kind thoughts, a happy disposition and a giving personality. I have never known him to be mean, have envy for anyone or curse at someone.

For me, he was the balancing act to my father’s anger. He was the one who could calm my father down from his fits of rage and get him to see reason and become rational again. I cannot tell you how many times I hoped for Uncle Bullion to stop by (as he often did on his way home from work or meetings). You know, those days when you got into too much trouble for your mother to handle and she gave you that ultimate warning ‘You just wait until your father comes home….’ Secretly I would then pray for my Uncle Bullion to show up. I know he was the only one who could reason with my father and get him to forget or at least bring the punishment down a notch. He was my savior many times. My mother, I think uses a similar tactic when she had a difficult confrontation with my father. You see Uncle Bullion and my father were both very close. He was my father sounding board and I know much of my father’s endeavors would not have happened if he did not have my uncle’s advice and support.

The first dollar (pound) I ever earned was from Uncle Bullion. I was home on vacation from high school and he had a masonry job in the kitchen area at Tower Isle hotel. Against my mothers strong objection he go my father to allow me to come and help him on that job. It was the first dollar I earned but more than that it shows how my uncle operates. My father undoubtedly was complaining of how lazy I was sitting home all day and doing nothing. He was probably bent out of shape agonizing about it and talked to Uncle Bullion about it. But Uncle Bullion saw it for what it was; that I was not particularly lazy but just a young man bored out of his whit’s and was really looking for something new to do.

That was my Uncle Bullion. He always seems to look beyond the obvious. He was a thinking man, my type of guy. He will always be special to me.

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Aunt's Children

This is an excerpt from Bernice (Sue). She probably lived with Aunt the longest and has the best knowledge of all of Aunt’s ‘children’. I have left it almost verbatim as it not only describe the children but gives a good perspective of how Aunt was viewed in the district.
….now, with regards to your request. As you have said it is a tall order. However, I’ll make a try at it and as comprehensive as possible.
Growing up with Aunt was quite SOME experience. But that is another story which was not all negative. You may not know this, but my surname is really McDermott. My parents were Mr. & Mrs. Zachariah McDermott living in the same district of Retirement. Aunt was a Nanny/Nurse so she delivered many babies including those of my mother. I was told that she liked me very much at birth and got to adopt me. That is how I got the name Taylor. I was taken to her home when I was weaned at about nine months old. Your mother and Cliffie’s mother-Evelyn Burrell who is Aunt’s niece by a brother were at home when I joined the family. Then there was Siddie (Hector Bonito) who is Jackie’s uncle. After that another girl in her early teens –Delphis White spent a few years. She came from Ocho Rios (church connection) her father (Mr. White) took her back home.
While Cliffie, Bill and Winston and I were all there together, you came for a little time. When I was in my late teens Jackie’s mother, Elaine Russell came and spent a year. After that a young girl (about 9 years old) from the district also spent about 2 years, her name was Cinderella McDonald. Her parents were Mr. & Mrs. George McDonald. She eventually went back home. The last person I remember was Eartha Allen, a little girl about 4 years old. She was one of Aunts church brother’s child. Her parents were Mr. & Mrs. Allen from the area. She also spent a very short time and went back home.
…It should interest you to know that Aunt was regarded as a very significant person in the district. She played the role of Advisor/counselor, attended the sick, embalmed dead bodies (a process which lasted 3 days until the burial) as you know in those days there were no funeral homes. As I have said previously she delivered many babies. As far as I know majority if not all services without charge, she was fairly well read and had a good knowledge in house-keeping, dressmaking etiquette and of course nursing skills. She sometimes spoke about some study course in which she was involved. I recall seeing at least two of her books at home. In addition she was a landowner and farmer in her own rights, and a very strict disciplinarian workaholic.

I added a schematic above showing Aunt's ‘children’, their sequence and approximate time line of when they were with her in Lucky Hill.

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Our Second House – Part I

From Grove we moved to a little house just on the outskirts of Ocho Rios’ bay area. It was a three room house on what is now Main Street out towards the western end of the town. It was directly across from Our Lady of Fatima, a Catholic Church and school. The house is now demolished and a commercial building occupies the space.

I don’t recall entirely the circumstance surrounding why my father left Shaw Park Hotel but I felt that my mother had a pivotal role in the decision. Being a people person I can see how she would have hated the isolation of Grove. In any event my father left Shaw Park Estates and started working at a hotel out towards White River; it could have even been Tower Isle Hotel. He was commuting on his bicycle and it was during one of these commute that he almost lost his life. He was hit by a car that knocked him off his bicycle and down a steep rocky precipice. He ended up in St Anns Bay Hospital with severe head injuries. It was the result of these injuries that some felt caused the memory lapses in the latter part of his life.

I think I must have been about four or five when we started living there. I estimate that because I was still riding ‘under bar’ and I was not yet in primary school. But I was attending the Seventh Day Adventist’s school in Milford. This in itself was a remarkable accomplishment by my mother, for she must have been brilliant in applying the necessary pressure and persistence on my father for him to agree to this. You see, for him it meant going against his entire side of the family (his father, his brothers and sisters) plus the entire Jehovah’s Witness congregation in Ocho Rios; a gut wrenching, conscience strewn and unnerving decision. Or maybe it was just love for his wife, but allowing his child to get any education in a religious house other than a Kingdom Hall of Jehovah’s Witness I know did not come easy to my father. But my mother’s mantra for me was education, education, education and she would have traded with the devil to make that happen. It was not the last time too that she pulled that off.

Our house was one of two that that was located on that property. In the other which was bigger but older lived the Greens (I think that was their name) and they had a son called Cutie who was about my age and a daughter whose name slips me. Both houses faced out onto a common yard with a big almond tree in the western corner of the property. Under the tree was the communal stand pipe. It was not that we did not have running water in the houses for I distinctly remember a kitchen area and an outside shower area behind our house. But Cutie and myself seem to have spent a lot of time together under that almond tree, all our games and activities happened there. I remember it as a happy place and not just for the almonds; which you stoned off when they were ripe to get the fruit and when dry you broke open for the nut inside, and the leaves, when you really bored or destitute, you could make a poor kite out of it. On our side of the property was a breadfruit tree. I mention this because thinking about it now I realize that every house that we ever lived in my father always seem to manage a breadfruit tree. I guess it was his way of ensuring that there was always food.

I will bring you Part II soon but first I want to go Back to Lucky Hill. Until then...

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Back to Lucky Hill

I thought I had closed this chapter but new information keeps drawing me back here. A recent encounter (Harry’s 50th. Birthday Party) brought new information and a whole new perspective to Aunt and Grand Mumaa, my paternal grand mother and great grand mother respectively. Thanks Jacqui, I can now fill in most of my mother’s family tree. Above is a look at it so far.

First, I found out Grand Mumaa’s real name. She was Sarah Dalling. Secondly, Aunt was not an only child but had at least three siblings. And third, while it cannot be documented as yet, some says that Grand Mumaa's maiden name was Taylor. If that turns out to be true it would be something, she being a Taylor and her daughter Aunt, also marrying a Taylor. But even more intriguing is the fact that she must have married or had relationship with a Davis for Aunt, her first child, was named Davis. This suggests very strongly that my mother and father were related, they were probably cousins!

This was all happening in the small community of Lucky Hill, where the total population was probably less than a thousand people. It was mentioned that Lucky Hill was originally settled by three families two of which were Davis and Taylor. Given the information I have today it does not seem that far fetched.

There was also a lot more information on Aunt, my grand mother. I found out that she had three siblings. There was Aunt Jane whom I vaguely remembered as living very close to Aunt (I think just down the road where the road bends as it leaves Retirement and heads towards Jeffery Town). Then there were Arnold and Lucille. These two I don’t recall.

But what is more intriguing than the siblings is the new perspective I get of Aunt. I always had this picture of her as a strict disciplinarian, not mean, but a tough, dictatorial, no-nonsense type of a woman. But hearing from other who lived with her much longer than I, there was a softer side. It turns out that Aunt was actually a midwife for the district and that is where much of the respect and high esteem she was given in the district comes from. It was also one reason why she always taking care of so many other people’s children. It was because the attachment from having helped to bring them into the world. This information is interesting and gives me a whole new perspective of her. But it’s still a tough one for me to picture, probably because of the many heavy licks that I remembered those hands delivering to my rear end. I just can’t imagine them as tender enough to deliver babies. She was one great woman! I wish I could get back time to get to know her allover again.

There was new information on Daddy too. It turns out that he had children before he married Aunt, giving my mother two siblings. His first child was Aunt Zill. I do not think I ever met her as she lived in Kingston but she was always talked about and I grew up with Winston who was her son. Daddy’s second child was Uncle Sonney. I have heard the name and I think he lived close by or at least in Lucky Hill but he must not have remained close to the rest of the family for I cannot recall him. My mother was his third child. Having lived with Daddy for a year or so and witness first hand his calming influence I can see how much he contributed to my mother's childhood. While he did not intervene when Aunt was threatening you with fire and brimstone he also did not escalate it. He was that quiet person, soft spoken, caring and thoughtful. He was always in the background, but without him Aunt would never have the presence nor commanded the respect that she had. I can see now where she was the initiator but he was her support and together they were a strong team.

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