Photographed by Susan Koster
Have you ever looked at an elderly person’s face and it seemed to express and capture something from your soul? Looking at the picture above, a lady is wearing a scarf on her head. It is almost as if the way she wears the covering on her head is representative of her resilience. According to the Oxford reference dictionary elderly is defined as “somewhat old, a person pass middle age.”
The elderly often have an intensity on their face that transports you into their world. To me it is as if I would like to sit and relax as they recollect their childhood memories and reveal their stories of survival. Compatriot Journalist Rose Willock once said “the elderly tells us how to get on with and deal with adversities [of life and] teaches us to celebrate what is good and true about us a people.” For me the elderly represent refinement and are crucibles of our past.
Painted washes
Close up
Far off
Gives certain poise
Strong, Bold
The images; life and work
Illuminates like a red light bulb
Scaled up
A chronicled history
Woven into my world
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Poem by Brenda L. McCartney
The shadows of his time
The dark reflections
Hang in the balance
It is time to leave
But the twist and turns grips
The burnt amber stain
On vellum not canvas
Now there is sense of his composition
Flaked
He hopes for restoration
By the quality of his stroke
In time
All is left to the eyes
The spiritual connection.
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Poem Written by Brenda L. McCartney
Yesterday I saw a truly amazing sight. I saw a green, red, yellow bird that may have been a Rainbow Lorikeet, flying along a car. I was at a T junction so as the car that I yielded for passed by I saw the bird flying alongside the car for about seventy five meters. After it passed me completely and I began to drive, I stopped and looked back to see if the car had the bird on a string or some sort of leash. After a few more seconds, when the other car came to the end of the corner I realized that it had not been tied because the bird flew across the car.
This sight brought me back to my childhood. There were always so many birds around our house. There was always a flock of pigeons (Barbary Dove) that hung out in the hog plum tree they would sometimes engage in a synchronized flight to the mango tree by the pig (hog) pen and then to the breadfruit tree. I always thought it was a planned secret game that they played. There was also a flock of black birds; we were told if we hit one of them with a stone our hands would break.
One of my uncles hunted pigeons. Sometimes I would not realize when my uncle came home; how he was so swift, all I would hear were the pellets being loaded in his rifle called the ‘hunter extreme.’ I can now see the hard Beachwood part of the gun. We were always told not to touch it; but I did anyway, the gun was very heavy.
When my Uncle would hunt, his friends would appear out of nowhere as if there were some secret meeting. They all would carry rifles; it was about three of them. Â Remembering it now it seemed like a scene out of a movie as my uncles would just start shooting in the air and the birds fell. Afterward we would have the pleasure of plucking the birds. We plucked the feathers, gutted them, seasoned them with salt only and fried them outside on the wood fire that we erected on the side of the house. Â Our feast after the hunts usually consisted of fried pigeon. It was such a delight!
By the way – do you know that parrots have no green pigment although they appear green? They look green because of the Tyndall effect which gives the illusion of certain colors.
Every Christmas Eve it is part of our culture in Montserrat to set the jumbie table (jumbie are ghosts). The jumbie table reveals a tradition held by my ancestors many years ago. When Montserratians (people from Montserrat) say jumbie table we are referring to the table set at Christmas Eve with all the food (roast pig, bread, blood pudding, duckna , black cake [fruit cake], pork, chicken, turkey, potato pudding, dasheen, yam, bananas, macaroni cheese, rice and peas, goat water, tart) and drinks; wine and spirits (water, sweet drink[ soda], lemonade, Guinness, Vita malt, brandy, beer, ginger bear, ginger wine, Manischewitz wine and sorrel drink) that we would consume on Christmas Day. Just before the meal on Christmas day the spirits (liquor) is poured into the corner of house around the table for the ancestors.
As I explain the jumbie table I sit here compelled to note this. I am in a state of disbelief that my mother and my cousins both sixty plus stated they have never seen a jumbie table set by their parents. My cousin, who is my age, exclaimed “how old are you Brenda?” It seems as if anyone younger than my grandparent’s age (eighty plus years) have not shared this experience. Fortunately for me my cousins Grand Aunt is still alive, so she called her right after I spoke to her. She confirmed that I am not hallucinating or having an out of body experience by remembering the details of the jumbie table. I quickly learned that the term jumbie table is an endearing and commonly used expression but many of my generation and my mother’s generation have never seen a jumbie table set.
It is believed when the tradition was abandoned, and the jumbie table not set, the jumbie would come out making noise all night.
For me the jumbie table commands respect, in that it makes us feel pride in our heritage. It does not spell suspicion but admiration for the practices held long ago by our ancestors. I understand that it may be a part of our African heritage to carry out this practice. Our culture is rich in history and traditions and identifies us as a people. The fact that I am in my thirties and have witness the setting of the jumbie table for many Christmas by my grandparents is indeed a compliment and honor.
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