Desmond Henry TREASURE BEACH:
MY LATE Mom used to say to me that she could always identify any place in which I had resided for some time. How? She said I would always leave a permanent yellow poui tree or a grape arbour, or both. Apart from my instinctive love for landscaping and gardening, Mom knew of my deep affection for the flowering yellow poui, and my frequent experimentation with grapes as part of my culinary fetish.
I was dramatically reminded of the power of the poui during the last two weeks when, right across the island, they all shed their leaves and put on that spectacular head dress of yellow pomposity. It is like veritable showers of flowers. It was a most cheerful delight to see them in the various towns and fields across the countryside, as I journeyed from Kingston to Black River before heading back east to Treasure Beach. What gorgeous spectacles they provided. I have always thought of the full blooming poui as nature's belly-laugh, one of its purest profusions of mirth. And if I appear to be partial to the yellow variety, it is only because they have traditionally outnumbered their pink siblings by far, except perhaps this year. The pink poui, in a sense, is like the Jamaican economy, trying to play catch-up to its runaway yellow rival. Together both pouis present an adoring picture of sight without sound, beauty without boundaries.
BEYOND MERE THE PHYSICAL
My admiration for the yellow poui itself extends even beyond the mere physical. That's why when in my early days as Director of Tourism, I thought of how, in marketing terms, it could be used as a form of merchandising for brand Jamaica. I thought I had found the answer in a concept of planting a number of yellow pouis along the median strip in Knutsford Boulevard, as the basis for an annual Poui Parade n Kingston, in April of each year. It would be something like the Cherry Blossom parade in Washington D.C. every year. But more than that, I saw the mass of poui blossoms as the picture frames for a classic spectacular in Kingston. To be sure, the city could have used something picturesque and proud, for which it could be photographed.
And so I had the J.T.B. ceremoniously planting out the entire median strip of Knutsford Boulevard, with about a dozen yellow poui trees and started tending them with the anticipated arrival of the first blooms. But no such luck. Without any kind of manners or civil reference, I arrived at office one Monday morning only to learn that the JPSCo. had unilaterally dug up all the trees over the weekend, because they got in the way of where they wanted to run some electricity lines. I decided not to right that kind of boorishness, and that perhaps Kingston deserved its customary ugliness and lack of pictorial marketability.
THE LOGWOODS
But what of the pouis' best landscape-mates, the logwoods. They usually bloom around the same time of the year as well. So on this road trip to Black River, I decided to take the route through logwood country, that strip between Fullerswood and the parish capital. What a sight it was. Every logwood tree as far as the eye could see, was in full bloom. Literally hundreds of acres. Again, the colour yellow predominated. And because the sound of my car's engine overrode the drone of the honey bees, I was unable to hear them. But I knew they were there. Anyone from lignum vitae country will tell you that when the national flower is in bloom, squadron upon squadron of bees will arrive each day in one continuous drone-like swoop, like military airfleets locked onto a target. The result is of course, the finest logwood honey that human palates can taste.
MOST PRIZED POSSESSION
But that's not all. The versatile logwood was one of the most prized possessions of colonial capture. Its extracts provided one of the most sought after floor dyes for homes, halls and palaces throughout Europe, until it was eventually replaced by the synthetic variety. Its importance as an export gave Black River pride of place in Jamaica's early days as a seaport and made this south coast town the first to have motor cars and electricity in the island. And so the logwood remains a composite of past historical value, and modern pictorial charm.
So where do we go from here? I will still plant my yellow pouis wherever I may tarry or reside, so that Mom may still look down and say "Des was here". But even beyond that, I will try perhaps one more time to influence a poui-lined highway as one of the enduring take-away images of Jamaica.
LANDSCAPED IN YELLOW AND PINK
In this regard, I will make one last plea to the Prime Minister to direct that at least, the first entry and exit miles of Highway 2000 be landscaped with a profusion of pink and yellow pouis. You may plant more if you wish, by just imaging the haunting, photographic, television and video spectacles that would be provided for world view.
But more than that, Mr. Prime Minister, try to picture the fullness of hearts and the awesomeness of spirits for both citizens and visitors, as they traverse below canopies of pink and yellow blossoms. It sure would remind, for a while at least, that ugliness need not be a permanent part of our daily lives. Oh for a lullaby of the petals.
The Bottom Line: A road map tells us everything we want to know, except how to refold it.
Desmond Henry is a marketing consultant formerly of Treasure Beach, St. Elizabeth, now resident in north Florida.
