Dear Editor,
Dave Martins ‘Flamboyant folks’ in the Sunday Stabroek of September 21 was again one of ‘dem nice juicy piece,’ bringing lightness, relief and joy, if only for a fleeting moment. Martins sure does travel back in time unearthing snippets and gems of stories from “a time gone and not coming back,” as he is wont to say. Naturally, as expected, the stories are stimulating and infectious, never failing to tickle, and set the memory in motion racing back to times of yore. And so it was with ‘Flamboyant folks.’
About two years ago along with some friends I visited Grove on the East Bank, and my eyes got a pleasant surprise; there was this shave-ice vendor. I couldn’t remember seeing one in years, and immediately boyhood days were before my eyes. There was and still is something about shave-ice I just like, but then, which ‘lil’ boy didn’t? Watching that vendor planing that block of ice was exciting – even the sound of it. Then when the shaving cup was filled and the shavings taken out, observing it being dipped into that guava and sorrel syrup, boy oh boy! what a joy, a treat. As a ‘lil; boy what on earth could have been better? Now all of a sudden we all wanted a shave-ice. The difference I observed between vendors from my boyhood days and this vendor was the flair and “flamboyance” which this guy employed in selling his product; it was all a show! After shaving the ice he quickly emptied the shave-ice into the cup, then poured two different flavoured syrups on top, but before we knew what was happening the guy had made a flick of the wrist and the contents from the cup were some two feet in the air, then landed back flush in the cup with the syrup side at the bottom. He wasn’t even looking when he caught it – that had been practised to perfection – and then he added more syrup and finally condensed milk, water, if requested. Boy he was on show and people were buying to see the show.
And here’s another: there was this fella in Stabroek Market selling water coconuts; “Come and get your nuts, the water nuts man is here,” he shouted. This guy was no slouch; he was as slick as ever. “Leh ah get a nut,” a customer requested, and he quickly responded, “Jelly or no jelly?” the reply determining which nut is selected. Using the back of his razor sharp tool to test the fullness of the fruit, he tapped it lightly twice or thrice to detect which one had jelly, which one too much jelly and which one just enough. Upon ascertaining the perfect one he stuck the tip of his blade into it and with an all-in-one motion like the shave-ice vendor, he tossed it into the air and caught it back. Now with the nut in his left hand and the blade in his right with lighting action he began slicing, levelling its crown as he swirled it in an anti-clockwise motion with uncanny precision. He stopped just a film away from making an opening, then with dexterity along with a funny twist of his blade he stuck it in swiftly but lightly so an aperture was made. For the ladies there was a bit more of a stylish performance as he snatched a straw from a pack and presented it along with the nut. The brother was definitely on top of his game, and the show was amusing and entertaining as the customers were coming, surrounding him, in a circular line to be entertained and served.
Editor, there is something that I never forgot during my brief indulgence in drama, namely, you can sell anything once you package it well. Those two anecdotes above are living testimonies to this adage.
I recall many years ago whenever the August holidays came around there was the excitement upon being told that you would be going to Georgetown to spend the holidays. Boy, you couldn’t wait for that day to come. Going out for a walk at night in Georgetown was like magic. I was fascinated, lost in a dream watching a bunch of big boys on bicycles – ‘puddle boys’ as they were called back then – a racing pack all neatly dressed in the fashion. Every bicycle was colourfully lit up like a Christmas tree, and they swayed from side to side along well kept roads overtaking vehicles from both sides, now in a stream, a colourful long flow of blinking lights; now in a bunch, banking corners, with all lights glowing brightly like a cluster of stars. Those bicycles were specially decorated and taken care of: gleaming rims, spokes, handles, white wall tyres – they were indeed a delight to see. When I got to reading the autobiography of Malcolm X where he spoke of moving from his home town of Lancing to Harlem and how much he was mesmerised by what Harlem had to offer and how he was captivated, I immediately thought back to Georgetown and the ‘puddle boys.’
Yours faithfully,
Frank Fyffe
