Katani's Jamaican Holiday (3 page)

“I know you can’t stay long. Selvin and Cousin Cecil will show you everything, and I write out everything you need to know. I so glad you could come. We need to keep that Bliss coming,” Aunt Faith said as she handed Grandma Ruby a paper filled with her spidery scrawl.

“We make it back Sunday,” Selvin said. “Everything all right?”

“Yes.” She waved away his concern. “Just a little weakness. I getting good care. I getting better. I don’t even know
why them keeping me so long, till next week. Gertie come every day and look after me. She will call you if I need anything. You gwan, and take good care of Ruby and Katani.” She got my name right this time. “Olivia and Enid are at the house,” she told us. “They show you everything.”

She was staring at Grandma as if she couldn’t get enough of her. “You favor Mama, you know. Same forehead and nose.”

Grandma Ruby grabbed Aunt Faith’s hand, and Aunt Faith brought her close and whispered in her ear for a few moments. I saw Grandma nod several times and smile. I didn’t want her to be sad, so I gave her a big hug when she walked beside me. I guessed that it might be very emotional to see a relative for the first time, one you thought you might never meet.

Several of the patients had been showing great interest in our little reunion. They smiled and nodded at us as we passed. I didn’t want to be rude or anything, so I nodded back at all of them. I felt bad that they were all in the hospital when outside, the sun was shining, the sky was blue, and the beaches were, I was sure, completely awesome! I suddenly wondered how anybody got any work done in this country.

“’Member to feed them!” Aunt Faith called after Selvin. “My niece and her granddaughter. They come from ’Merica to…” I heard the pride in Aunt Faith’s voice as she explained who we were to the woman in the bed next to her, but we were quickly out of earshot and I missed the rest of what she said.

The nurse nodded at us as we passed her desk. I was glad to escape outside. I hated the smell of disinfectant. Medicine was definitely not in my future.

W
e had just left the hospital gate when a professional-looking van passed us and stayed in front of us until it turned left at the next corner.

“That’s one of Mr. Biggs’s vans,” Selvin announced, just before the van turned the corner. I looked closely at the vehicle driving away from us. It was a covered van like ours, but much bigger. It was also painted yellow. On the back was a fancy drawing of a man in a chef’s hat. The words under the drawing read “Manteca Bay Bakery Company. Try Mr. Biggs Better Banana Bread.” Somehow the man in the drawing looked familiar to me. But how could that be? I had never been to Jamaica before.

“He has some nerve!” Grandma Ruby exclaimed as she frowned. “Who tells him it is
better
. Better than what?”

Whoa! Chill, Grandma! I had never seen her get mad so fast. It was just banana bread, after all.

“Him sell other products too,” explained Selvin, “but for some reason, he has decided he want to push out Aunt Faith completely and get our Banana Bliss name. He’s big and we’re small. I don’t know why him won’t leave us alone.” Selvin
pounded his fist on the wheel. He sounded as angry as Grandma Ruby. I guessed banana bread was a big deal in Jamaica.

Selvin drove onto a street he called the famous Hip Strip, home to the world-famous Doctors Cave Beach, which was about five miles of white sand on the edge of the cystal clear sea.
Finally! Now we’re talking.
“Can we stop now? “I asked hopefully. “Just for a minute?”

Selvin shook his head. “Home is a good distance away,” he explained, “but we can stop at a place called Scotchies for lunch, if you want.” As he said the word “lunch,” my stomach growled. I hadn’t realized that I was so hungry. I hoped they had burgers and not that weird jerk pork he’d mentioned earlier.

With my nose pressed against the window, I could get a clear view of everything, including all the luxury hotels and beaches. I closed my eyes for a minute and imagined a waiter serving me a lovely cold drink in my lounge chair on the beach. I would, of course, be wearing my new Tuscan gold tankini and my straw hat. I could even feel my bangle bracelets lightly jingle on my arm. After all, a girl has to keep her own sense of style, wherever she is.

It was getting warm in the van, so I stuck my face out the window just like Marty. As the official mascot dog of the BSG, the “little dude” assumed that position whenever we took him for a ride. I chuckled to myself when I suddenly envisioned Marty dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and riding a surfboard. As we passed a beach, I almost screamed out loud for Selvin to stop. I couldn’t wait to get into the inviting blue water. I waved sadly as we raced by the turquoise sea.

Don’t Be a Jerk!

Selvin drove into a small, enclosed area with two open booths under thatched roofs. A group of tourists were sitting
at round wooden tables in front, eating food out of foil paper and licking their fingers. Was this a restaurant? It looked more like a campsite to me.

On the other side was a long wooden bench running the length of the wall with some wooden tables placed in front of it. A group of construction workers were sitting on stools at a bar chatting loudly as they sipped their drinks and tapped their feet to the reggae music playing in the background. I could get used to this, I thought.

“All right!” Selvin exclaimed, rubbing his hands together like he was getting ready for a serious feast. “We have jerk chicken, jerk pork, and fish, so you can taste all of them.” A man brought over some drink bottles for us. “That’s coconut water,” Selvin explained.

“Sounds delicious,” I answered. “I’m sooo thirsty!” I opened my bottle and took a long, cool taste. Frankly, I was a little disappointed because the taste was mild and kind of flat. I would have rather had a soda, but I didn’t want to say anything to hurt Selvin’s feelings.

When our food arrived, I figured I better dig in before my stomach made a giant, obnoxious gurgle. I still wasn’t sure about meat called “jerk,” but I squeezed my eyes shut and took a tiny bite anyway. Whoa! It was totally delish! The jerk chicken and pork had the texture of roasted meat. Both were very highly seasoned and really tasty. I ate the whole thing in what seemed to be a minute. I couldn’t wait to tell Avery about Jamaican jerk barbecue. Maybe she would tell her brother Scott, who was an amateur chef, and he might make a little jerk just for the BSG.

“If you pour the hot pepper sauce in that little paper cup over the meat, you get the true Jamaican flavor,” Selvin explained. Was it just my imagination, or was he trying really
hard not to laugh? Whatever. I thought a little sauce sounded great. So I poured just a little of the sauce on my plate, dipped a piece of the meat into it, and chomped down.

Yikes! You know those cartoons where you see fire coming out of people’s mouths?—that’s how it felt. My eyes started watering and every nerve ending in my mouth started screaming as I grabbed the coconut water and tried to quench the burning sensation. A boy at the next table started laughing. Selvin grinned. “You’ll get used to it,” he assured me, pouring a big glop of the sauce on his chicken!
Yeah
, I thought,
just when my taste buds have been scorched beyond repair
. I wished I had a big bowl of strawberry ice cream in front of me. Grandma Ruby must have read my mind, because she jumped up and came back from the counter with a Popsicle. I was never so happy for something cold in my entire life.

Lucky for her, Grandma was a little more composed than me, although I saw her sneaking frequent sips of the coconut water too.

Saltwater Cowboys

As we drove along the north coast road toward Aunt Faith’s home, we kept passing more and more resorts, and everywhere there was a spectacular view of the sea. I was practically drooling. If I didn’t get to a beach soon, I was going to have some kind of attack. “Grandma,” I begged, “couldn’t we just stop for a minute so I can put my feet in the water? I just want to feel the sand between my toes and the warm sea on my skin. I’m dying here!” I knew I was being kind of dramatic, but geesh, I had traveled 1,700 miles, and I was in Jamaica!

Before Grandma Ruby could give me the raised eyebrow, Selvin answered, “Oh, Katani, we cannot have you dying here in Jamaica! This place is for living. I know a beach you will like. It is
not too far.” He winked at us, and I looked at Grandma Ruby.

“Well, this
is
a vacation,” Grandma agreed, breaking into a grin.

We hadn’t driven too far outside Montego Bay when Selvin pulled off into a parking lot with a sign that said “Island Cove Adventures.”

“I have some good friends here,” Selvin explained. “You like horses, I think I have heard, right, Katani?”

Like
horses?! Riding was the first sport I had ever shown any skill whatsoever at, and I completely loved it.

“Yes, definitely!”

“Here you can ride them in the ocean, right on the beach. How does that sound?”

I could hardly believe my ears. “It sounds wonderful!” I exclaimed. “Thank you!” Beaches
and
horses, all in one—it was like this Island Cove place was custom-designed just for me.

Before I knew it, I was saddled on a huge bay named Lazarus. Only instead of real saddles like I was used to at home, here they used a spongy pad that could go in the water. Everyone else in my group was still mounting, but as soon as I held the reins, Lazarus started to trot away.

One of the attendants raced up on a horse. “Pull up! Pull up!” he shouted. I pulled on the reins, and Lazarus stopped.

“You’re a rider, lady,” the man said. I thought he was asking if I knew how to ride, so I nodded.

“That’s why him want to run. Them can feel somebody with experience.”

I smiled and sat up a little straighter in the saddle as Joe, the leader, took my group down to the beach. As soon as we entered the water, the attendants started yelling, “Yah! Yah!” and racing around, trying to get the horses to go faster.

It was such a rush galloping through the water! I could feel the pull of the water against my legs and hear it swishing against Lazarus as he galloped through. I felt him straining to push through the water and go even faster. “Good boy,” I whispered, patting the side of his neck.

Joe led the horses in a line, and we galloped through the water around and around the cove. The horses weren’t really in that deep, because the cove was pretty shallow. I only got wet to my waist. I stroked Lazarus’s neck as we moved through the water together. I thought of Penelope, the horse I rode at home. I wasn’t sure if pretty Penelope would like splashing around in the water with all these other horses and people laughing and yelling. She was a prim-and-proper Boston girl all the way. But then, so was I—and I was having a blast!

The ride ended way too soon. “Can we please stay just a little longer?” I begged Selvin and Grandma Ruby as I dismounted. “Just to lie out on the beach for a little while?”

Selvin shook his head. “Got to get home. Olivia will be wanting to meet you.” I wanted to meet Olivia, too, but it was still sad to say good-bye to Lazarus and the beautiful beach.

“Come visit me in Boston, okay, Lazarus?” I whispered to the huge horse. He gave a snort and a toss of his head, almost like he was nodding yes!

Our Jamaican Home

Back in the car, Selvin kept up a running commentary on all the places we passed. “There is Columbus Park.” He pointed at a tiny museum on the sea. “It marks the spot where they say Christopher Columbus landed in 1494.” Wow. It was kind of exciting to drive by the same place where Columbus had landed.

We drove for a while through lush green countryside, and now, instead of the sea, I was surrounded by what looked like farms with tall trees full of coconuts and lots of banana trees with their bright green leaves drooping like long, broad fans, gently waving in the breeze. Then I noticed something weird: All the bunches of very green bananas on the trees were covered in blue plastic.

“What’s up with the plastic?” I asked Selvin.

“It protect the fruit while it grows,” Selvin explained. “Most of these bananas will ship to Europe. Buyers won’t accept the bananas if they are bruised.”

That made sense. It seemed like people were very careful with bananas here, treating them like gold. I saw a woman walk by balancing a tray of bananas on her head and I snapped a picture through the window. Charlotte would love it. She’d
lived in lots of different places and always said it was so interesting to see how people in other countries lived.

All of a sudden I realized that we were going up a really steep hill. Who knew Jamaica had mountains? I looked back and noticed that the ocean was getting very small. I had a moment of panic. Was I ever going to be able to go to the beach again? I had imagined that we would always be close to the water, where I could get a quick dip before the end of the day. After all, Jamaica is an island, right? Just a speck in the Caribbean Sea. Now here I was in the middle of some mountain. I sat back in silence and I must have had a sulky look on my face, because Grandma gave me a look—the one that said,
I am watching you, so mind your manners. Now.

“Not much farther now,” Selvin commented as we passed through a sleepy looking village named Banana Ground. “We’re almost there.”

Finally he turned off the road onto a gravel track, lined on either side with banana trees, and then stopped in front of the house where we would stay. I got out and had to stretch the cramps out of my legs and back.

While he got our suitcases out of the cab, I checked the place out. The house was spread out, with a porch that Selvin called a veranda all around the front and sides. Like a lot of the other houses I had seen along the way, it was painted in a bright color—yellow (there was my favorite color again!)—with edgings of brown around the windows and doors. The walls were made of concrete, but the veranda had a wooden floor and railings.

In the yard, flowering shrubs and beds of roses surrounded the house. I took a quick photo and made a note in my Island Inspiration Notebook—I definitely wanted to remember all those colors to use in a sundress next summer!