by Inia Jardine
'I like rocks, minerals and stuff like that. And women. That’s why I am not married.' He grins and with that quite ingenious remark his lovely eyes sparkle with extra mischief as he lowers his glasses onto his nose, glances at me over them and winks. Phew, he is sexy! But way out of my league.
I feel my cheeks flush with embarrassment, he caught me out. He surely knows what I am thinking. I cannot just be so open and easy with a stranger, what is wrong with me? At my age I should know better. No don’t be stupid Lilia; you are all grown up. All my life people have told me what to do, what to believe and to do only what is proper. Well, to hell with that. I am just going to enjoy his company and the coffee. No harm done...even though he has a darker skin than those I am used to interacting with socially. I am just going to relax and enjoy being out of my comfort zone for once. See it as an education. A personal evolution.
I change the subject again before it becomes sticky. ‘What a lovely name your mom had, Hyacinth,’ I reply. ‘Hyacinth Hibbert. You don't look so young, are you gay then not to be married?
Sorry, that was out of line. I apologise. Rather tell me why you decided to study Geology?'
'It's fine' he laughs heartily. 'But no, I am not gay. I love women too much. I grew up in a place of magic rocks, fossils and gemstones, agates as many as you could pick up. I used to roam the hills looking for interesting rocks and geological formations. The earth has always fascinated me.
We have interesting names yes, my mom’s name for instance might have had something to do with the colour of her eyes, names like those were popular in Jamaica’s past.
We have such a rich natural heritage, the older generations all named their kids after flowers or plants or characters from the Bible. Most people did not even have names or surnames and took whatever name they liked. Some slaves were named by their masters and their descendants kept those names.'
'Tell me, why do you speak such good English? I mostly hear dialects around here and I have a problem understanding those.'
‘Geology is my only strong point, not languages, but us Jamaicans don’t all speak Patois. Especially those who have studied in English. Patois does not work in the academic field. You should try and learn some local dialect though, it makes life more interesting. If confusing. For instance, if I say that you are a biscuit, I mean that you are particularly attractive.
Your lovely name can almost be Jamaican, Lilia beautiful Lily! I believe that a butterfly is called something like your name somewhere in Africa, ‘lilldeh’ if I am not mistaken.’
‘Tiger lily is more like me’, I grin.’ I have aggression issues. I guess you should also have been ‘Hyacinth’ then with your lovely eyes, maybe too dark for hyacinth blue more like the deep ocean. You do not seem like a hyacinth to me anyway, much too big and dark and smooth...’ What gibberish nonsense am I talking?
He ignores my remark about his extraordinary eye colour. I am not used to seeing exquisite deep blue eyes in people of colour. As I think that - I am shocked at how prejudiced it sounds. Even for a South African.
‘...More like a marlin?’ Jonah counters.
Interesting that he refers to this beautiful signature fish of Jamaica. The people who flock to the islands to catch and kill these magnificent creatures -calling it sport - trouble me deeply. When I observed the cruel hanging and slashing open of them from the harbour a few days earlier, it almost upset me as much as the dolphin killings in Taiji. They are all innocents. I feel so deeply for animals and those who are not able to defend themselves against cruel humans.
'Marlins are pointier, you are more solid. A solid chocolate biscuit!' Trust me. Bad humour, Lilia.
‘What about a big blue whale, and we bring Jonah and the whale into the story. Did you just call me a biscuit? Great idea Lilia, I like the way you condense my qualities to see me as a snack. Round and black?
Or as a huge mammal who sings and jumps out of the water displacing all around him. Me being big and the whale thing is a bit clichéd though. Had all of that at school, big Jonah the whale. I always stood out, could never disappear.
Must say I would rather have been named after Anansi, the clever and cunning spider of local folklore. You cannot outwit him even if you try...and I am very clever. The biscuit part, well that is a first. Usually it is only used to describe an attractive woman. Like you.’
He thinks that I am attractive. Not possible.
‘You have four eyes with your glasses, but you still have a few less than a real spider. I think we will have to settle on the whale, or Big J. We will see how this turns out – there will be a suitable name for you on this island. Maybe something else has dark jewel eyes...You know, you are the first person I have ever met who can exchange nonsense like I do, squirrel from one subject to the next. It is interesting.’
I look up at him and a portion of the Xanadu poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge abruptly comes to mind again. The part where he writes about the flashing eyes and floating hair, and having fed on the honey dew of paradise...
As we near the café walking closely side by side under his umbrella he points out a clump of big leafed trees. ‘Let’s hope this rain does not lead to a storm. It has become quite dark suddenly. Look, this is the trumpet leaf tree that I wanted to show you, the leaves roll up when there is a hurricane coming but it is OK, they are not rolled up yet!’
‘Oh my word that is so cool, I have never heard of something like that. Isn’t nature amazing? They look like giant paw-paw trees. I really hope there will be no hurricane, I have never experienced one.'
Jonah laughs out loud. ‘That expression is very young Lilia, but it suits you. You look like a person without pretensions. Shall I bore you with the botanical name?’
‘Oh great, thanks, again. I’m blonde thus I’m stupid? Good thing those dumb castle owners in the UK did not see a photo of me as they would never have chosen me to do their arboretum for them. And by gardener I actually meant that I am a Horticulturist. So there, not stupid at all. I speak botanical.’
‘Whoa, touchy! I did not mean anything by that remark. Just very few people who you run into on the street will know the difference between a Cecropia and a Tabebuia.’
‘Well, I am one of them but I don’t have the foggiest idea about the differences between the two. Cecropia sounds familiar though. Which one is this trumpet leaf tree?’
‘Cecropia. The other is from Brazil.’
'Jonah I would like to find out more about the local flora, mainly the medicinal & more interesting specimen plants, I would like to grow some in the new arboretum greenhouse.'
'No problem, stick with me lady, I will tell you interesting tales and show you interesting plants.'
'Oh look, a chameleon! I love chameleons. Let me just help him into a tree.'
‘No, that's not a chameleon, it is an anole, a type of lizard, and be careful they can bite you. Do you bite, Lilia Lamonte? Your name is such a lovely type of alliteration. I like all the ‘L’s’.’
‘I get it, but he looks just like a chameleon. I love them. And really, I am not afraid of things smaller than me, I have to help them when they are in trouble and they will never hurt me. They know I don't mean them harm. I have saved many bees from drowning in pools and not one has ever stung me. I am forever concerned about those who can't defend themselves, or get themselves out of trouble.
You know, I actually would have been a biologist and not a horticulturist, I started out studying marine biology but could not do the practical sessions in Zoology where you had to cut up animals. It really put me off any animal related studies. I wanted to dedicate my life to helping animals but now I do it in other ways.'
Jonah impresses me further during the time period we spend drinking endless cups of coffee at La Jam’ca Café. I am going to have trouble sleeping tonight after all this caffeine. The sun has appeared again after the hard rain shower and I am snug and dry in my borrowed ensemble. There are long gauzy white curtains all around the café veranda, fluttering in t
he breeze. That is something I have always loved, curtains billowing in the breeze. So romantic. The view of the wet park is just dazzling in the soft sunshine after the rain.
Jonah is funny, clever, witty and simply nice.
Gorgeous too - with those mysterious deep dark blue eyes. Eyes you could drown in...and drown I am beginning to.
'So…tell me Lilia, who are you? What makes you tick.'
‘You mean over and above what we have been talking about? I hope you have lots of time; I have been told that I am opinionated.'
‘Everyone is entitled to their opinion I believe. I would love to hear yours. What do you believe in for instance?’
'You mean religion? Wow you sure start on a BIG subject. I must warn you that I am a very direct person. My motto is - Speak the truth even if your voice shakes. It has made me many enemies through the years. Can you take it?’
‘Bring it on. We don’t have to agree in order to have a meaningful conversation. It would be boring then.’ He smiles.
‘OK. I don't think that is really something to debate because either you believe or not, but I don’t believe in God and that is my choice, my freedom of association. I detest organised religion. My church is nature, I thank the Universe for beautiful things around me every day like these blossoms and leaves dripping with rain, rainbows, waterfalls, butterflies. And of course frogs and chameleons!
No person is ever going to change my mind about that or change my sometimes offensive personality, I am not weak. I try to live by 'do what you will but harm none'.’
He nods as if saying, continue please.
‘More harm has been done, more atrocities, more murder and cruelty committed to both animals and humans in the name of the church or God or Mohammed than for any other reason. Belonging to some or other religious group seems to make you better than others, gives you licence to kill those not like you.
I must tell you that I most probably have a lot in common with some peaceful Native American or a Buddhist monk somewhere high on a mountain top. A vegetarian Rasta, a nature worshipping Wiccan or a free thinking Gypsy living in a caravan. Any of those rather than a religious white or black South African. They sit in their churches on one day and the next they are horribly selfish, rude, cruel and egotistical people spouting racist politics and megalomania.
The same goes for so called “culture” and “tradition” ' I say while making the quotation marks movements with my hands. ‘It is just an excuse to do cruel or even just silly things because some person in the ancient past did it. You do what is right, what is real for now, for today. I do not believe in hunting, as a so called 'sport' or other. It is wrong. Animal cruelty in all forms makes me want to harm people. I may one day end up in jail because of that.’
‘I hate the sport of rugby, soccer/football and most sport for that matter, find it just to be very expensive and time consuming hobbies. You can rather spend your time and money doing something beneficial. And take long walks for exercise.
I don't eat meat which in South Africa is almost seen as a crime if not a personality disorder, and I don't own a TV.
Colour does not matter to me; after all it is just a pigment in one's skin. What matters to me is the person, how the person inside that skin of whichever hue acts. I am most probably a bad South African.’
‘Agreed, but why come to Jamaica? You could have gone anywhere for your holiday. They have all sorts of strange “traditions” and “culture” here’ and he imitates my hand movements,’ which you may not approve of.'
‘Well Professor, I have always had this fascination with the Caribbean and island life in general but I have had a soft spot for Jamaica all along.’
‘Where does your interest in slavery come from?’
‘It is another long story.’
‘I have time.’
I take a sip of my delicious coffee and continue. ‘As I have mentioned before, the issues of racial hate and violence drove me away from South Africa to find my future somewhere else. I love the country of my birth but I will not live there again. It has been mostly ruined by crime and greed. But I guess I will always be South African. As they say ‘You can get the girl out of Africa but you cannot get Africa out of the girl' - I miss the lovely parts of unspoilt nature and endless beaches though.
You would think I'm crazy but I do believe that I was a Jamaican somewhere in one of my past reincarnations. There it is, me in a nutshell. Now it is your turn.’
‘I would love to go to South Africa someday’ Jonah sighs and takes a sip of his topped up coffee. ‘I have Africa in me too, as I’m sure you noticed. But remember there is no such thing as a perfect country. I would love to walk in the steps of Madiba, maybe see Robben Island and your endless beaches as well as your geological marvels.'
‘We have quite excellent fossils, caves and fascinating geological scenery. But like the perfect country, there is also no such thing as a free lunch’ I laugh. 'Is there a thing like free coffee?’ I feel so unencumbered with this guy; I feel like I can say anything without being judged.
I cannot but compare the colour of his skin to my coffee. Back home, getting seen socialising only with pure white skinned people were the norm when I was young, but to me the darker skinned people have always been beautiful. I try to see the person inside the skin though, not the skin deep one. That is what really makes a person, what is in their heart.
Jonah's skin is dark, but not totally black like most Jamaicans. He has a lighter hue of dark, a darker shade of pale. Between bronze and espresso.
I noticed it when we met yes, most definitely, but I was taught not to see skin colour only. He looks durable, strong and beautiful. And his heart seems big and beautiful. He is a gorgeous man. But not meant for me.
‘Give it a few years before your visit to SA though, the present is not enjoyable and the outlook possibly anarchistic, chaotic. Black people still get treated with suspicion by many, it does not matter whether you are educated or from the rural areas. An whites are hated. Some people believe that being black makes you a criminal, just like black people like to believe that all whites are racist.'
An unfortunate truth.
Jonah looks intrigued by that remark so I carry on.
‘People here call each other brother and sister, even if they don’t know the person at all. In South Africa it will never be like that.
‘As I was saying, the past and present injustices in my country and others intrigue me and I decided to do some research on global racial injustices. You know, I was never raised to be a racist as were some other unfortunate people I know. There is this song about racism from an old musical called ‘South Pacific’, I’m sure you know it. It is my father’s favourite.
It goes something like ‘you got to be taught to hate and fear’ because most people fear the ones different to them. That was aimed towards the western vs oriental people during the war but is applicable to all unfamiliar or different colours and cultures.'
‘Of course. I must say Lilia, it is refreshing to talk to someone who knows about South Pacific. My life is mostly spent around very young people who have no idea of music before 1990, if that.'
'I agree, - according to me the seventies and eighties were the best music years. For the rest, hmm shoulder pads, bad hairstyles and leg warmers. Not so good. Apartheid was still rife, but change was slowly taking place then.
White people who had a conscience were becoming upset, artists especially, and showed it to the world. But although South Africa is usually seen as the biggest culprit in the racist/apartheid sphere, we are not the worst. We had terrible slavery yes, mostly from the time of the original settlers in 1652 and about up to about 1840. Most injustices we are famous, or rather infamous for - later on, are not slavery per se but the stupid laws dividing people of different colour and the injustices associated with that.
Making people with darker skins feel like lesser human beings. It is quite ridiculous I must say. If you think of it, going to the same beaches as b
lack people were illegal. Riding on the same buses as them, going to the same schools with them, to the cinemas, the parks, the post offices, the restaurants, basically anywhere - were illegal. Like it was in America. Stupid really. Like they were contagious somehow.
I wonder who came up with the absurd segregation concept first. I mean, you would be locked up if you slept with a person of a classified race different to yours. I will never forget that a casual work acquaintance of mine, a policeman at an international airport, was fired from his job for sleeping with a coloured woman. This happened in 1988!'
