Photo by Mario James
The travellers parked beside 'paradise' in west Portland.

Mario James, Sunday Gleaner Writer

AFTER LEAVING Morant Bay, we the nomadic James tribe headed east towards Golden Grove and the holy grail of our quest, the million-gallon water tank erected by Carib Engineering many years ago.

As a freshman at the former College of Arts Science and Technology, one of our work study projects was the design and implementation of the water system at Golden Grove.

Trouble

Being from the Corporate Area, I had not walked this way in 20 years. Needless to say, it gave us trouble to find. But find it we did, and as we meandered up the hill that the installation was erected on, a plethora of memories attacked my faculties. I remembered that the site was managed from a house at the foot of the hill, and that beasts of burden would be let out front to graze.

Coming back to headquarters after a day watching people erect the tank, I saw this donkey standing by herself, not eating, just standing there with this look of abject disgust and depravity on her not so regal brow. So, I approached this animal and gingerly scratched her on the flat of the forehead right between the two biggest, brownest eyes I had ever seen. I must have scratched the temporal lobe, for after that it was like that ass was tied to my hip. When I left she would bray and on my return she would come for the scratch. She would stick her head through the office window and mentally induce the scratching, much to the mirth of my colleagues.

But I digress. Having reached the vicinity of the water tank, things looked much different. The old landmarks had gone, and the area itself had a different patina.

Foreign

That strong chocolate smell that for me had marked entry into Golden Spring proper was no longer there, and there was a coolness, a stillness in the air that was foreign to me. I passed the access road many times before I actually found it, and after I had my 'Eureka!' moment proceeded to find that overgrown patch of earth and metal; it lay there, the tank that we made, like the Titanic, with its proud bolts and aluminium panels still gleaming in the afternoon sun. I walked up to it, with my folks installed in the jeep, touched it and wished it well. I could not find out if was still in service.

Having achieved our goal, and with so much daylight remaining - it was not yet four o'clock - yours truly was egged on to find Boston and eat some award-winning jerked pork. So, with our nomadic mores coming to the fore, off we went at the speed of thought. What amazed us afterwards was the harsh beauty that smacked us in the face at every turn as we followed the coastline into Portland. Each coastal village had its own version of how God likes to be housed, and each church commanded a view of some of the most beautiful real estate that I have ever had the pleasure to lay eyes on. Promontories and coves were the order of the day, here, rocky land formed by great pressure, like a huge hand making impressions in play-doh. God is in the details...

Landscape

Then, out of nowhere, on the sea side of the road, popping out of the landscape was a house that mirrored the colours of the evening sun. Rembrandt could not have effused more feeling into a canvas. A true Kodak moment.

While we oohed and aahed at our find, we wondered why people leave this island for good, a place with such bounty that hunger should be a distant memory, a place of such striking beauty of land, flora and fauna, of people who I believe still have faith in the mantra that good must overcome evil, and at their very core still believe in humanity. We only need to apply ourselves to survive, here.

mario.james@gleanerjm.com.