By Johnny Coomansingh
Long ago I used to read the articles, ‘My Most Unforgettable Character’ in the Reader’s Digest. On Adventist Street in Sangre Grande, Trinidad, where I spent seven years of my life, my ‘universe’ of characters was quite small and probably insignificant. However, selecting those few souls with whom I wanted to relate was not difficult.
Sifting the information that reaches our senses comes with guidance from an inner voice; a voice that speaks to all of us. If we listen, we will, with all certainty, hear that voice. And yes, I heard the voices of certain individuals. I witnessed their nuances, their non-verbal communication, their speech and their actions. Making lasting impressions on my mind were aged people; a man I knew as Wallace, Rosie, an East Indian holy man, and Brother and Sister Pierre who were Seventh Day Adventists.
We lived in the floodplain of the Guaico River at the corner of Adventist and Ramdass streets. Wallace lived about 50 feet east of us. His house was an adobe structure complete with a thatched roof made from wild palm fronds known as timite or carat (Manicaria saccifera). These palms flourish in the rainforests of Trinidad. The kitchen of the house was joined to the house by a little walkway. He did not own a stove or a refrigerator. His earthen fireside or chulha was as good as any stove.
Mr. Wallace led an agrarian type lifestyle. Banana (cooking fig) stands and root crops, such as cassava, yams, and dasheen (Colocasia esculenta) were always visible around his house, not to mention the many types of medicinal plants that he also tended. Chandilay bush (Leonotis nepetifolia), wild vervain (Stachytarpheta urticifolia), fever grass or lemon grass (Cymbopogon citratus), carpenter bush (Justicia pectoralis), and the jumbie bead vine he referred to as lickrish (Abrus precatorius) were always available to us as remedies for coughs and colds. He also advised that we should drink the tea made from soursop (Annona muricata) leaves for insomnia.
He was a kind of old-fashioned, bush medicine African man who guided my family in the preparation of medicines for fever, cough and colds. He taught me what types and parts of plants to use and in what proportions to consume them. The juice of five or six leaves of chandilay mixed with sweet oil (olive oil) and salt was effective as any cough medicine sold in the drugstore. It was a bitter brew but the medicine worked, at least in those days. Boiled lickrish and carpenter bush leaves sweetened with brown sugar or honey was just as good.
He worked for cocoa plantation owners as a cocoa tree trimmer. During the week I would see him walking to work with his cocoa trimming equipment, a poinyah (machete), and a thin, ten or 12-foot-long, Ceylon bamboo cocoa trimming rod. To this rod was affixed a sharpened gullet. On evenings after work Wallace would relax on his small wooden bed in his verandah.
Although I was quite young, I would sometimes sit on the front step and discuss the Bible and how to grow crops with him. His religious persuasion was Ethiopian Orthodox (Coptic). Every Sunday he dressed himself in his starched and ironed khaki suit. With Bible in hand, he walked to the small Coptic Church located at the end of Baker Trace to attend church service. The church was a good two-mile walk from his home.
Wallace was a very kind and generous man. He thought about the needs of our family and shared with us whatever he harvested from his garden. He would sometimes bring over a large dish of his special sancoche, a mixture of ground provision, green pigeon pea, fresh coconut milk, and meat boiled on his chulha. The smoke of the wood fire rendered the soup even more delicious. It was the best soup ever for hungry mouths. His characteristic laugh and jovial spirit enlivened the environment.
Above all things, Wallace, counselled me to walk in the path of righteousness. His great wisdom fascinated me. He was more than a friend to me; he was my mentor during my early years. To just think of our situation, it is quite possible that it was the hand of providence that sent us to live where we lived, next to Wallace. He is long gone now, but his great friendship and deeds of goodness will be forever engraved on the pages of my mind. He is one that is difficult to forget.
Also difficult to forget was Rosie. Rosie greeted me and everybody else with his usual “Ram, Ram cahoe.” I imagined that it was a polite way of saying hello. As a little boy I did not understand this greeting but every time I saw him I greeted him with the same “Ram, Ram cahoe” or just “cahoe.” The greeting was akin to “how are you doing.”
It was strange that we called him Rosie. This quiet, slow-walking man with a stick in his hand was always dressed in a white cotton capra (dhoti) a form of East Indian wear. His long and matted hair almost touched the ground. He was probably the first ‘Rastafarian’ who lived in the area. Although he wore a long beard with a full moustache, surprisingly, he was not at all scary. I was not afraid of him. I frequently conversed with him. His peaceful demeanour earned him my deep affection.
Sometimes he would sit to savor a little rest on the culvert bridge opposite to Baboolal’s grocery. On his way to the Maharaj’s at the eastern end of Adventist Street, he would slowly walk past our house; never in a hurry. Sometime a little later, I learned that he was a sadhu, one who is dedicated to the achievement of moksa or liberation from self. Rosie was one of the denizens of the area between upper Picton Street and lower Adventist Street. What a peaceful and loving man he was.
About 33 feet just across Ramdass Street to the west of our house lived the Pierre family. As is customary to address members of the SDA church, we referred to them as Brother and Sister Pierre. Residing at the Pierre’s residence also were Joycelyn and Cheryl-Ann. Cheryl-Ann became the close friend of my little sisters. Sister Pierre watched (supervised) Cheryl-Ann like a hawk because it seemed that she was tending to be wayward. Jocelyn on the other hand was older and a bit more pious, in terms of belief and duty to the SDA church.
Sister Pierre did not want Cheryl-Ann to go astray or to end up in mischief. Cheryl-Ann knew exactly how to dodge and escape the dimming eyes of Sister Pierre. Cheryl-Ann sometimes stole time from her insurmountable chores to play Moral (a type of game played with a sponge ball and a series of boxes drawn on the ground) or hopscotch with my sister Leah. Despite sister Pierre’s buffeting, Cheryl-Ann would steal away at times to go pick Tobago cherries with Leah. There is a saying in Trinidad that states: “The more you watch is the less you see.”
Brother and Sister Pierre were wealthy folk. They owned houses, lands, and a cocoa plantation, and of course Brother Pierre owned a shotgun. On one occasion, after the water abated from a flood on Adventist Street a caiman (Caiman crocodilus) was seen resting on a pile of debris in the gutter a few feet from the road opposite to the Roopsingh Street intersection. Many people gathered around to see the five-foot-long reptile.
Brother Pierre came with his shotgun, took aim, and promptly shot the reptile. I was standing right there when the creature was killed. Before the shooting, the animal looked so innocent, so unwary about what was going to happen. The gun barrel flared and in less than five seconds the caiman recoiled from its comfortable perch. Everybody clapped and there was an atmosphere of jubilation at the death of this poor animal. Even now I am still wondering why did Brother Pierre have to kill this creature? Brother Pierre apparently saved the day for the villagers.
On another note, I recall how Brother Pierre used to breathlessly run up his front steps to switch off his radiogram (stereo system) when calypsos were being aired. It was so funny, like ‘Be careful little ears what you hear.’ As a matter of cultural interest, we must appreciate that the SDA Church did not involve itself with calypso culture nor did it promote the artform. Despite the fact that Trinidad and Tobago is considered to be the Land of Steelpan and Calypso, the SDA Church in those days had absolutely nothing to do with that part of Trinidad’s culture.
Calypso is part and parcel of the cultural heritage of Trinidad and Tobago. According to V. S. Naipaul in his book: The Middle Passage: “It is only in the calypso that the Trinidadian touches reality.” The same goes for the steelpan instrument the only percussion instrument invented in the 20th century by Trinidadians. For the most part, the steelpan is now more acceptable in the SDA church; calypso seems to be a big no! Steelpan and calypso are two of the major cultural elements that underpin the pre-Lenten Trinidad Carnival.
Before my mother joined the SDA Church she was a nominal Roman Catholic. She and her children were present every year in the Port of Spain carnival celebration. Her brother George (Uncle Boysie) lived on Park Street near to the Trinidad and Tobago Electricity Commission (TTEC) offices. Although I was invited to go along with the family to Port of Spain to witness the bacchanal and raucous revelry of the carnival, I always declined. I preferred to spend the carnival days in the countryside with my godmother on her cocoa plantation. Maybe it’s a part of my being that I am yet to understand.
Other than the daily amusement, brother Pierre provided, the Pierre family, although quite staunch and steadfast in Adventism, was very kind to us. On Friday evenings, sister Pierre would at times, send us a freshly baked loaf of homemade bread before the family engaged in welcoming the Sabbath at sundown.
There were so many other church-going people on Adventist Street. The street was literally alive with ‘believers.’ That one street exhibited a cornucopia of ethnicities and religions. Apart from SDA, there were other religious beliefs in the environment including Shouter Baptists, Ethiopian Orthodox (Coptic), Gospel Hall (Brethren), Presbyterians (Canadian Missionary), Roman Catholics, Hindus and Muslims. Interestingly, each religion provided some unforgettable characters, some that we took note of more than others. However, the great and important thing was the fact that we all lived together fostering an environment of peace and tolerance. Adventist Street in a small way, exemplified the line in the national anthem of Trinidad and Tobago: “Here every creed and race find and equal place…”
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