BAJAN SUN MAGAZINE
DEC 2014
as they played an epicurean
medley in my nose and
reminded me of what would
come within the next few
hours.
Daydee squeezed my hand
and straightened the bow on
my dress and I smiled at her,
showing her my toothless
grin and hoping that what I
would receive for Christmas
would be a lot more than just
my two front teeth.
Everyone had a singular purpose, to get to the
church on time. As we passed the many wooden
chattel houses on our way, there were still some
homeowners that were ‘fixing up’ at the last
minute. Silhouettes ‘putting up’ curtains could be
seen through windows, and one or two people
were now carrying the furniture back into the
house, as the residence had been completely
emptied onto the front yard to allow for the
scrubbing and cleaning of the floors. I could see
the front footpaths had all been freshly laid with
white marl; this I was told was to signify the fallen
snow of our Mother Country. The holly-hocks that
that were planted in most of the gardens were
awakened by the headlights of the old car; their
baby pink petals glimmered in the darkness of the
early morning. The snow-on-the-mountains stood
elegantly as they hedged walkways and brought a
perceived visual sense of a winter landscape to our
tropical island.
The exodus to the city continued and more and
more people joined the movement as we got closer
to our destination. I enjoyed the delicious aroma
of hams, black cake, turkey, pound cake and pork
We were almost there. Past
St. Mary’s Church we heard
the well-tuned organ playing the first of the
introductory Christmas carols as the congregation
made their way up to the entrance of the historic
stone building.
Mr. Jordan blew the car horn to have pedestrians
move out of the way and garnished a few rude arm
gestures from an old geezer who had obviously
started his celebrations a little earlier.
We turned into the parking area of our place of
worship just as the first notes of the organ were
played. Mr. Jordan pulled up the hand brake and
quickly came around to the back door to assist
Daydee and me out of the car. Mr. Jordan looked
at me, smiled and tipped his hat. Mrs. Jordan was
still sitting in the front seat, stiff as a two-by-four.
“Come Cherry, let’s go inside.”
I held my
Daydee’s hand tightly as we walked up the steps
to our church and the first refrain of one of my
favorite hymns was heard,
“Christians awake! Salute the
happy morn…..”
It would be another good Christmas for us all.
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