By Glenda Anderson,
Freelance Writer
"Yuh want de yam or yuh don't want it...yuh fingle, fingle it up an' afta all a dat yuh still no want it...some a oonu just come a market fi run up people pressure."
I'M STANDING in front of a thin-faced woman, her glasses perched on her nose as she glares up at me. She's sitting on a low stool with her legs wide apart, eating breakfast from an enamel bowl.
After a pause she looks up again, this time with a kind expression in her eyes.
"Come here, this 'ere is a nice piece, well, well dry. Mi nuh sell bad yam. If yuh go home and cook it an' it nuh nice come back to me tomorrow, a here mi sell all the time."
At this turnaround I smiled, remembering the conflicting description Marcus* had given of his first visits to Kingston's Coronation market. One of the Brothers of the Poor, a Catholic missionary for the destitute, he explained: "It is where you get to see the real nature of Jamaicans, you get to see the contradiction that they are both rough and gentle, some are very disrespectful and some are very warm, especially the people we buy from."
So I was prepared for outbursts based on what he told me of his experience. "There will be times when just like ordinary people anywhere else they have to curse. It's funny though, it's the first place in my experience where you can hear bad words spoken out loud like an ordinary word."
Marcus, a Filipino, was assigned to the market when he first came to Jamaica. Every Friday or Saturday he braved the sometimes mean streets of the downtown area to jostle with handcarts, buses coughing thick black smoke, and streets made smaller by a surging and sometimes boisterous mix of people and vehicles.
"I chose to go there simply because Coronation market was the closest to us but it was a bit more than just getting food at a lower price, I found that I enjoyed going there especially to meet the people. It's a warm feeling."
SHE SEDUCES YOU WITH
OUTRIGHT FLATTERY
That's Coronation Market for you. Sprawled out on the western edge of the downtown area like a tough-talking, market woman bursting at the seams and spread out around her wares, Coronation Market can be intimidating at first approach.
Still, the feeling doesn't last long as she unashamedly seduces you with outright flattery and an engaging smile - "Nice girl come buy something from me nuh darling?" - then wins you over with promises of cheap food and helpful suggestions - "Dat awright wid you ar you want half pound more fi bring it up to three pound?"
In this, the mother of Jamaican markets, people think they're coming for the cheap stuff but, like Marcus, they keep going back because Coronation Market is more than about getting a bargain, it's a cultural experience.
Upper St. Andrew matrons who would no more dig their own potatoes from the earth with their manicured nails than admit to succumbing to the cheap thrills of downtown will, however, confess to the cultural charms (if not the bargains) of 'Corry'. Then there are others like Colombian Ambassador Alfonso Munera who sees his Thursday afternoon visits for vegetables as "a way of keeping in touch with real people." It reminds him, he says, "of how much Jamaicans love life and how hard they fight to keep their happiness."
Getting to know her
Under the pale blue light from the sun reflecting on the patchwork of tarpaulin overhead, the Coronation Market scene is feverish and carnival-like.
There is no quiet spot. Greetings, cursing and warnings mingle in a cacophony of rising and falling sounds. Every corner and everything is interconnected.
Then there is the smell. It varies according to the section, however it's mainly a lightly sweet aroma of fruits and spices. It gets stronger in some areas like the West Street end which is now devoted entirely to fruits like ripe pawpaw, pineapple, oranges and melons, rows and rows of ripe bananas and jelly coconuts. In other areas, like the covered section near Darling Street, the stench from the toilets overpowers you.
Underneath all this is a layer of dust which has me coughing and remembering an 80-year-old yam vendor who has been courting customers at "Corry' since she was 18. Leithe Bell Samuels recalled when the area was just mud and water - water would settle anywhere making thick mud of the dirt floor - because there was no overhead covering.
For the uninitiated it can get confusing among the stalls and hustlers spread from Darling Street to Pechon Street, Spanish Town Road to West Street. A good place to make your entry is through the main gate area on Spanish Town Road. Immediately to your left will be the 'car park' - it's actually not a car park but serves as the area for wholesale trade. Rows on rows of hundred-pound bags of onions, peas, garlic, pimento and other produce are stacked up in various sections.
A young man seated on a nearby pile tells me, with obvious pride: "Yuh see this area now, is where you get bulk goods, from peas to yam so if yuh want like three bags of garlic, six bag of peas an so on yuh can get dat here. Yuh fin' that somebody will just drive in buy a load an gone again. Cause here so now is like an international ting where people get all load fi ship an sen' goods go all over di place."
Next, I head inside, moving along the narrow lanes. The area is a blaze of colours - red and green sweet peppers, freshly washed callaloo, pale green lettuce side by side with purple and green cabbages, yellow and white yams, ripe and green bananas. Heaps of red peas of different shades, dry or green gungo, black-eyed peas and hominy corn take up an entire stall in one corner.
Across the way are ornamental flowers and dry coconuts, plantains and tomatoes share a tight space. Weaving their way through the maze are the sellers on the move whose goods, like plastic bags, escallion and thyme, mint and soap, are just a shout or arm's length away. Transactions happen in seconds and are sometimes done without a word being directly exchanged. A small boy passes with plastic bags of garlic cloves: "Twenty dollar gi you one a my garlic." A woman reaches out pulls one from his hand and gives him a $20 coin. The sale took seconds then she turns back to the yam vendor who stretches across his heap to pull down a scandal bag from someone else's stall. He'll settle with his fellow vendor when he's finished with this customer.
"If you come a Coronation Market and don't get what you want, nuh go nowhere else" because it's not available.
Inching my way through narrow lanes of jostling crowd and huge loads of produce that spill into the walkway, I thought of 72-year-old Ada Crossdale who has been coming to the market since she was a little girl.
"When I was growing up they had a saying: 'If you come a Coronation Market and don't get what you want, nuh go nowhere else.' An' is true, a way from Cross Roads, Papine and Constant Spring dis market is from de beginning, almos' 'everything you want yuh get it here and the price is good. When yuh come to dis market is usually one-stop."
She's right. Even the forbidden herb is available at $20 or $30 per stick or stalk. It even comes neatly packaged like powdered seasoning.
Williams,* who has been selling here for as long as he can remember claims to have the remedy for a number of ailments. "Dis is dandelion, it good for stoppage a water an' gall stone. Yuh drink dis now an' yuh pass dem just like real stone a grung."
Yeah, but just how do you prepare it?
He looks around, as if afraid of giving away trade secrets, before answering. "...just parch it an draw it like coffee," he instructs me.
"Sarsaparilla now, it purify yuh body. A have other tings too y'nuh like royal wisp, blood wisp, green wisp, chaney root and man back. Yuh don' need no other medicine."
Although they may be sold separately in little bundles priced at $30 each, a concoction is available in liquid form called roots. However, if you are the adventurous type you could round up the ingredients and do it yourself. Williams of course, advises to stick with the finished product. "It work out betta fi yuh if yuh jus buy the one whe make already because one yuh may caan get the right judgment an it doan turn out right or it may cause yuh whole heap more fi buy everything an mek it yuhself."
IT'S SOMETIMES SCARY BUT THEY HAVE NO INTENTION OF STAYING AWAY
Despite its diamond-in-the-rough appeal, a history that dates back to before the 1940s, and emotional connection for some Jamaicans, others have stubbornly refused to be bitten by its charm.
My friend Annie, for example, objected vigorously to the thought of venturing into the gruff market area. "Why would I want to go downtown in all that heat and dirt with the possibility of getting robbed or killed when there are other safer shopping areas around?"
Marcus, one of the Brothers of the Poor, is calm and almost naive in his response: "There is nothing to be afraid of there. We have always gone and we will always go because we like going there. Sometimes if it gets too violent we try to be cautious and we don't go.
"For Ada Crossdale it's purely practical. "The price always reasonable, an' from the beginning is like dat, one time yuh could get like coconut in a heap fi truppence an if yuh mek like yuh turning away somebody calling yuh back an even willing to throw on another one, so yuh fin, dat people come from all 'bout to buy dem tings here. Apart from the roguery and the smell, I don't mind."
Sheryl King says the same thing. "I live in Portmore and even though there is a market out there I find that it is so expensive, so I don't mind taking the trip and spending the extra fare to come to town."
Still, I'm of two minds about 'Corry'. When I find myself dodging the occasional vendor with produce on his head, or the handcart man screaming "hot wata, hot wata!" and wending his way through narrow passages, I begin to wonder about Marcus and Mrs. Crossdale who say that despite the scary moments they have no intention not staying away from 'Corry.'
See also "Built on an old cemetery" in the Real Estate segment of this edition.
