Some instinct told me that there had to be something more to the word “ketch” than the act of boarding a bus.
I was certain that the term was associated in some way with danger, and sure enough, some research revealed that there was in fact an Englishman by the name of Jack Ketch who was an infamous hangman. This character was known for carrying out his job, not only in a “barbarous” manner, but one suspected with a certain malice as well.
I found myself musing on this word recently when I was on my way to attend an event. Since the line of cars ahead was simply not moving, I chose to get out and walk. One of my sisters walked with me and not for the first time, we discussed the fact that there were such an amazing number of cars on the road, and reflected on the past when fewer cars were around, and catching the bus was the only choice we had.
Of course, the vernacular “ketch” is a Bajanization of “catch,” and one may argue that the analogy between boarding a bus and hanging an individual could be a bit of a stretch (forgive the pun!). But ketching a bus those evenings after school many years ago was an exercise fraught with peril.
You had to summon up all the courage you had. It was every man for himself. You prepared to do battle. You were called upon to defend life and limb.
It is interesting how objects are built to suit a perceived need. Queuing in the Fairchild Street Bus Stand was unheard of in those days. Such an exercise was simply not part of our Barbadian culture. Therefore, the “open” buses were built for ‘easy’ access, although in our case, “immediate” might be a better choice of word. No sooner did a bus appear at some “entrance” to the bus stand than there was a great roar from the waiting passengers with a mad surge forward.
By the time the driver had parked the bus, some passengers were already settling into seats. These were the ones who had mastered the art of “baling” to which there was a certain skill. You ran towards the bus, timing your movements well, so that you were able to hop on to the running board without tripping. If, God forbid, you missed your step, you could suffer a serious fall or end up under the back wheels.
But it was not just the “balers” who endangered themselves, for a general fight was now on. Every limb was engaged in the struggle to board the bus, and no consideration whatsoever was given to the small size of a school child. In fact, sometimes luck would have it that the school child could without much effort end up on the bus, having been borne along and thrust forward by these adult warriors.
And as if the efforts to board the bus were not dangerous enough, some bus drivers added to the passengers’ afflictions. I think it is impossible for anyone in our time to forget the bus driver nicknamed “Lightning.” He was normally a slow driver, or perhaps he was just being careful. Or perhaps he was just waiting for something to happen.
Which invariably it did. Some mischievous soul would suddenly shout, “Lightning!” and then came the transformation. This driver, whose correct name I never knew, would stop the bus, and the expletives he used could indeed have split the air. His other act of revenge was to suddenly speed up, jam his foot on the brakes, with everybody lurching forward, some grabbing on to the seats, others falling to the floor and swearing their way back up. Some passengers must have sustained back and knee injuries, but in those days, nobody thought of complaining to any authorities.
Another bus driver drove at a reckless speed from Fairchild Street to St George. Only the intrepid would sit at the end of the seat, for it was known that no corner would be taken gently and no brakes applied with reasonable force or in good time. Heaven help you if you had to stand nearly all the way home, which was often the case. Every nerve in your body was vibrating by the time you made your shaky exit out of the bus.
And in the spirit of Jack Ketch himself, your mother had the heart to give you a flogging if you reached home late.
Esther Phillips is an educator, poet and editor of BIM: Arts For The 21st Century.