They say “if crab don’t walk, he never get fat”, yet “a rolling stone gathers no moss”. You can’t win. Anyway, to test it out, I travelled over the last weekend to the pokoors of Jinpoor, the paradox of St Philip, across the Atlantic in a luxury liner and finally to the affluence of Apes Hill. Starting with . . .
Sabir Nakhuda’s Bengal To Barbados is an amazing tale of man’s triumph over adversity. Imagine poor, often uneducated, rural East Indians landing here with a few dollars in their pockets. Knowing no one, not speaking the language, not having a clue to the districts.
Yet they moved around with their suitcases, sold on credit, kept accounts for hundreds of customers and ended up with bicycles, cars, vans and finally stores in Bridgetown.
How did they do it? By strict adherence to their religion (while we scoff at ours on the radio); helping each other; getting nuff children and involving them in business; respecting their elders; and, of course, knowing the value of a dollar saved.
At the launching one told me about an Indian man drowning in the sea. A passing Bajan shouts: “Hey, man, I’ll save you for ten dollars!” And the Indian sinks, struggles, surfaces and finally splutters: “You don’t think you could do it for nine?”
Sabir’s book should be read by all Barbadian schoolchildren. Let us bury the notions that getting a job is a “right”; that not doing well in school is an excuse for turning to crime; or that a university degree is a passport to success.
It is true my wife got first class honours and landed the best job in the universe – sleepingnaked with me for 38 years – but everyone can’t be that lucky. (Happy birthday next Wednesday, wife!)
Over then to St Philip where Ken Mullin processes My Milk and Mauby Milk. Ken uses the most gentle pasteurization possible so that the milk retains its nutritive goodness. More anon.
But one can’t help but be struck by the paradox of today’s Bajan countryside. “For sale” signs on houses everywhere. Yet land is being taken out of agriculture to build even more.
Barbados desperately needs foreign exchange. Sugar is a good foreign exchange earner. Cuba is currently reopening over 12 sugar factories to capitalize on the rise in sugar prices. Government employs lots of workers doing very little. Why not employ them productively growing sugar? And win-win all around?
Finally to an 80th birthday do for cousin Jack. Jackie, you may recall, planted his cassava in the sandy Fontabelle soil near a wide, deep crab hole. It grew to wondrous proportions. As did other things. Jack reportedly passed the 11-plus when he was only nine.
Jack’s wife Jeanette, the pepper-jelly queen, was telling me about a cruise they just did which included crossing the Atlantic in eight days. Relaxing, but never boring for there are all sorts of exciting pastimes to keep you enthralled.
For instance, one day the steward assembled the passengers and asked them to guess – wait for it – how many rolls of toilet paper they would need on a cruise like that! Jeanette guessed right – 5 000 – and got a badge. Or something.
The party was held at the Apes Hill home of one of Jack and Jeanette’s daughters. Food aplenty. We sat around a crystal-clear jacuzzi which apparently has little Japanese arms which come out to massage any body parts which so requireth. Remind me to add “bathing naked in a jacuzzi” to my bucket list.
A delightful young lady, unfortunately related, sat seductively on my lap for some time. I was so engrossed in recalling that “A man may not marry . . .” table from the hymn book that when she got up I didn’t realize something had shifted.
Upon resuming her seat, she promptly shot up about four feet like a startled mustang. And that pleased me no end. Everyone laughs at my old Nokia cellphone. But there is no way a BlackBerry in your pocket could get that sort of reaction from a sitting lass.
As we left the hostess advised us to keep to the flagstones as her husband pees on the lawn. How good to see that great tradition even in high places!
Although we tend to go behind the garage.
• Richard Hoad is a farmer and social commentator. Email porkhoad @gmail.com.
