Ditta Sylvester, Contributor

Sylvester

My cousin Albert was a most particular sort of fellow. He seemed to have been born a health nut at a time when eating or abstaining from certain foods, for the sake of one's health, was not even fashionable. Albert was no more than five years old when he began to steadfastly abstain from foods which the rest of us would put up a fight over. His mother (my Aunt Bella) found this more than a little alarming so she took him to see a doctor.

The doctor told Auntie that he could find nothing wrong with Albert. She should, however, make certain that he got adequate servings of the foods he liked, since this would ensure his continued good health. Albert was no fool. He loved the attention his eating habits were getting him and decided to make the most of it. When our cousin refused to drink his tea or porridge when milk powder was added, he got condensed milk instead. Needless to say, the rest of us, his cousins and siblings (we were a hugely extended family), were most upset about the whole thing.

But things got even worse when Albert switched from condensed milk back to milk powder. He abruptly decided that he wanted nothing more to do with condensed milk and we were very happy. At least, we would get a spoonful or so of the sweet condensed milk which my grandmother bought every weekend. But this joy was shortlived. It soon became noticeable that as soon as a tin of condensed milk was cut open, its contents (or most thereof) would disappear before the end of the day.

How my cousins and I suffered as a result of that unfortunate circumstance! My mother, aunt and grandmother would flog, scold or punish us in any other manner they thought appropriate because it had to be one of us stealing the milk. Reason? Cousin Albert did not drink condensed milk! It got so bad that my grandmother came to the decision that since everybody [including Albert] was now taking milk power, she would no longer buy any more condensed milk. Albert had the sense not to say how inconvenient this decision would be for him.

Breadfruit was one of our staple foods. We ate boiled breadfruit regularly and everybody looked forward to tasty hot slices of roasted breadfruit with callaloo on a Sunday morning. Albert refused to eat breadfruit. He would get bread with his callaloo and more than his fair share of dumplings to make up for the boiled breadfruit, which he adamantly refused to eat. If we could have found a way to get away with murdering Albert, he would not have lived to become a man!

Then came the most disastrous hurricane we ever saw. We all survived but the wide variety of food supplies which we had become accustomed to having was no longer available. Finally, there was little more than breadfruit to eat.

It had been raining continuously one day. Nobody could even get to the shop to buy food, though money was available. Aunt Bella and my mom decided to roast some breadfruits for lunch. I could hear my aunt trying to coax Albert into eating the breadfruit but he refused to yield. Grandma fixed tin mackerel with lots of onion and coconut oil. Her daughters peeled the breadfruit and stored the skins in an old zinc pan. Grandma shared the food and we grinned as she shoved Albert's plate with mackerel only at him. Our grandmother did not much like Albert, though she did her best not to show it.

We hungrily dug into the sweet yellow heart breadfruit, thinking nothing of Albert and his plight. When we were done, we went into the house to sleep. It was almost dark when we woke up to find that our finicky cousin was not with us.

"Where is Albert?" Aunt Bella enquired.

My Grandma gave her a knowing look and replied, "Him must be still inna kitchen. I goin for him!"

Within minutes Grandma and Albert appeared in the doorway. There was soot all over his face and he looked ashamed. Grandma was holding him by the scruff of his neck and laughing.

"Is what happen?" my mother asked.

"What black you up so, Albert?" Aunt Bella asked her son.

"Is breadfruit skin black him up," Grandma explained.

She had found Albert in the kitchen with his hands in the zinc pan. He was obviously very hungry and trying to eat what little of the breadfruit was left in the skin, after it had been peeled.

There was another peal of laughter from her as my grandmother said sarcastically, "Albert don't eat roast breadfruit but him eat di skin!"

Aunt Bella promptly took herself back to the kitchen and roasted more breadfruit so her son could get some. He was too hungry to care about our mocking him and gobbled up the food shamelessly.

From that day forward, our cousin Albert found it quite in order to partake of whatever the rest of the family was eating.