Dominoes and Shadow Walkers

Saturday Night, October 25, 2008 Mrs. Moore’s
“Shadowlands”
Shadowwalkers we are. 2 homes. Combined household income, not very much. Children at home – 17. That in and of itself is remarkable. Considering one house has only 5 people makes it staggering. We walked with Little, who went by “Leeker” or Licka or Leeka depending on how you pronounce it. Mrs. Irving is how we were introduced originally. We met her near the SHOP on the road to Lethe; we tried to drive to her house, but the bus wouldn’t make the climb. We were reduced to walking, which, in truth, we preferred. It was steep and slow. From the road below I heard, “Me like dee back one!” That was me. How flattering. Too bad she wasn’t my type J.
Mrs. Irving is shy. Exccedingly so. Very quiet. At least around us. W e climbed the very steep road to an intersection, bordered on the right by a cinder-block house. Turning right up a two-track “road” that followed the ridgeline, past a rusted out car. Past a muddy low spot. Up an even steeper hill to her house. A one story cinder block tin-roof two room house, with a rough outdoor kitchen and a cement-pad extending out from the house, covered. TO call it a breezeway conjures up a much too polished image, but the functional description would be accurate. Eight children, from about 2 years old up to 13 or so, playing dominoes – gathered around the table on cement stools on the breezeway.
Little doesn’t live there. They are her children, though. Little lives with her parents up the road. Her boyfriend, the baby-father, works during the day tending goats.
She has six children. One has moved away. ONE LOVE on the wall. Crosses painted on the outside. Ussain Bolt, the new national hero, on the wall. Inside there is a small gas range and oven. Little problem – a tank of gas costs about $100 US. No gas. When there’s no gas, you use the outside kitchen and make a little fire out of wood. Occasionally there is nothing to eat. IT’s mostly a safe place, she tells us, but rarely it happens that someone is angry and comes around.
The kids – they want to be a mechanical engineer, a teacher, a doctor, a bat man in the cricket sense, They believe they will be. There is no doubt.
Back at our guest house, we talk with Joyce, Mrs. Moore’s (our guest house owner) assistant. We learn that she also assists the teachers at a local school. She has a house full of children, too. The baby daddy lives in England. Her oldest son is an electric engineer. He studied for three years in England until his visa ran out. Now, he’s home, with no Visa and no work for him here in Jamaica. It’s frustrating. She told us how she met Mrs. Moore. Some 12 years ago, she was having a hard time. She knocked on a door looking for work. Explaining her situation, and desire for work, the teacher coincidentally was teaching all her children. She listened, and introduced her to Mrs. Moore. They’ve been together ever since. It’s frustrating, though, that she needs to be together. She uses that word, “Frustrating”, a lot. It sums up so much.
Mrs. Moore, she is a beautiful soul. She worries about her mother, who is lately not well. That is exhausting for her – helping to take care of her mother and the rest of life. She went to choir practice tonight – We played dominos. “Reverend, you play a wicked game!” she said. We were sworn to secrecy on the final tally of the games. Buck out, means you are lucky. We slammed the dominoes on the table. The hard the knock, the better your chances, after all.