Sheesh. It's been a while since I visited Salt River in Clarendon and, boy, have things changed!

So Salt River is one of those natural bodies of water that residents claim hold some mystical healing powers, the likes of which can be found in no pill bottle. There are a few of them across the island.

I learned some time ago that a lot of people who live in Clarendon and as far away as St Thomas and Westmoreland, believe that taking a swim in Salt River can heal cancer, headaches and even the common cold. The jury is still out on how true these claims are, however, to each his own.

What I do know is that Salt River is a really cosy spot and a nice place to have some fried fish and maybe take a dip, if you're so inclined. Well, that's the way I remembered it. When I showed up there last week though, things weren't as rosy and the people weren't as friendly.

I arrived there close to midday, when the sun was at its angriest.

Zinc shacks

I stepped out of the car and at first, thought I had taken a wrong turn somewhere. There were some new zinc shacks set up where there was an open, green area on my previous visit. There was nobody around, except a few stragglers leaning on a tree in the distance. I was looking around, puzzled, when I heard someone behind me.

"Yow, mi don! Come round di side yah so and yuh get di real fish and festival!" he said. I looked around and spotted the man. He was around 30 years old and wore a washed-out, used-to-be-green T-shirt and a pair of cut-off jeans trousers. I told him I wasn't hungry, but was interested to find out how things were going at Salt River. The man gave me a once-over then turned and walked away without saying a word. I fantasised for a second about hurling a rock in the direction of the man's head as payback for his impertinence. It was a shapely woman wearing a tantalising mini-skirt who caught my attention and perhaps saved the man a lump in the head.

I sauntered over to her. She was an attractive woman to be sure, with eyes as bright as headlights on an SUV and hips that told no lies. I gave her what was my best attempt at a seductive smile and in as deep a voice as I could muster, told her hello.

"Yeah, yuh know. What ah gwaan?" the woman replied, in a voice deeper than mine while at the same time exposing the most scattered set of teeth I have ever come across. It was a quick wake up call. Looking at a nearby tree to avoid looking the woman directly in the mouth, I asked her about Salt River and why the place seemed so empty.

"Well, yuh waan hear seh di people dem inna cass-cass bout who fi sell and who nuh fi sell, so right now, nobody nah sell," she said.

"Right now, mi woulda love fi see di place go back to how it did stay one time, because mi sell mi likkle bag juice and since dem start dem foolinish, noting nah gwaan," she said.

It was here that the scatter-toothed woman with the man voice and a tendency to spit when she speaks made a profound statement.

"Di land belong to God. Ah no man own it, so everybody weh God mek supposed to able fi mek use of it."

robert.lalah@gleanerjm.com

River fishing in Salt River is the best way to spend a day, according to Jacob and his friends. - Norman Grindley/Deputy Chief Photographer