Haniff Parchment at his seaside workplace in Whitehouse, Westmoreland. - photo by Robert Lalah

He's quickly approaching 50 and is now in a semi-stable job making decent money, but fisherman-turned-gardener Haniff Parchment can't let go of a more than 20-year grudge he has with a 1980s tv weatherman.

"Dat man used to make the fishing ting difficult, for is like him used to just guess if rain ah go fall or if storm ah come," said Haniff, taking a break from raking leaves at a large, seaside house in Whitehouse, Westmoreland.

He has been working as a gardener at this house for close to a decade and by all accounts, loves his job, but in the deep recesses of his mind, Haniff is an angry man.

You see, Haniff's dad was a fisherman and always dreamt that his son would follow in his footsteps, so Haniff took up the task to learn all he could about fishing.

"Mi get fi really love it. Mi used to love go sea and di money was good, too," he said, looking out at the horizon. The sea was choppy that day and waves were splashing to shore with great force. This seemed to have ignited the man's memory.

"We used to get up early and go out to sea before cock crow. Dem time deh did really nice. We just rub some food fast and move out. Nobody nuh see wi again until wi come back in," he said.

Haniff has particularly fond memories of his time spent on the Pedro Cays.

"Yuh know seh dem all have woman over there now? Yes man! Dem pack up ovah deh! One time no woman never ovah deh, but now dem ah meck more money dan di man dem," said Haniff.

He went on to explain, in great detail, how some of the women went about making money on the cays, but not much of his explanation can be recounted here. Let us just say that Haniff was quite satisfied with his life as a fisherman.

Wrong predictions

But all that started to change when, according to Haniff, the weather forecaster on a local tv station started getting some of his predictions wrong.

"If him seh rain, is pure sun. If him seh sun, yuh nearly wash weh," said Haniff.

"More time all di woman dem couldn't reach outa Pedro because is pure rain, even after yuh plan fi dem, because di weatherman tell yuh seh everything ah go calm," said Haniff, looking annoyed.

In the prime of his fishing career, Haniff got wind that a fishing boat had gone missing off the coast of Haiti after a bout of extreme weather, and grew increasingly nervous during his own expeditions. He started paying closer attention to weather forecasts and bulletins, but insists that a particular tv weatherman's forecasts were far from precise.

"Mi start get ketch inna all storm, when mi never hear nothing bout storm pon di news. Is pure distress," Haniff complained, gesturing wildly. I asked him how it was that other people were catching fish and, by all accounts, getting accurate weather forecasts when he was not, but he did not respond.

After a while, Haniff's returns were being severely depleted and he was quickly developing a reputation for being a less-than ardent fisherman.

"Is like people stop buy from me because dem feel like mi never reliable. Dem start buy from other people over me," he said.

Soon, Haniff started losing his love for the sea and was eventually forced to give it all up. He traded in his fishing line for a weed whacker and has since been spending his days cutting grass and trimming trees. Haniff can't help but, from time to time, gaze out at the distant horizon and wonder what could have been, were it not for that 1980s tv weatherman.

robert.lalah@gleanerjm.com

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