Sometime, following the passing of my father, I cannot now recall how long it was between his going and her coming, my maternal grandmother, [who resided in the city of Kingston] came to live with our family, in the rural town of Morant Bay. Ninin, as she was affectionately called, had lost sight in her eyes, resulting from glaucoma, and the challenges at the time, associated with financing adequate ophthalmic care.

Loss of her physical sight, notwithstanding, Ninin was a woman of great insight, honed in the University of Life. From its various faculties, she learned and gladly shared with all who knew her, the deep knowledge and profound wisdom, for which many today search far and wide, without finding.

One of the blessings of growing up with Ninin, was being able to sit at her feet; literally and figuratively. As I think about the former, I bring to conscious memory the fact that my preferred position, when visiting her in her room, was to sit on the floor, before her. During such times, we would talk about anything and all things, as she combed my hair with her fingers, creating styles, I was never able to replicate, for they were, let’s just say…other worldly, if you get my meaning [laugh]. The truth is, I learned a tremendous lot from Ninin, even though the full impact of her wisdom did not come until later on, like now, with time and maturity having done their work, bringing clarity.

One of my most beautiful memories is that on a Sunday, whenever I was in the kitchen, preparing dinner for the family (my mother having given up that role, once I learned how to cook); Ninin, who in her younger days worked as a cook, would give me tips and pointers about meal preparation…di likkl dis and di likkl dat which when incorporated into whatever was being prepared, transformed it from an ordinary meal into a delectable feast. This was accompanied by stories of her childhood – the pranks that with her siblings, she would get up to, in their humble, love-filled home, in Port Antonio.

I won’t forget that as she told the stories, she helped in a more tangible way, by grating coconut for the rice and peas, and carrot for the juice – all part of the usual Sunday fare of fricasseed or baked chicken, with rice and peas, baked plantain, a medley of delightful vegetables and the carrot juice, sweetened with condensed milk, generously laced with wine and a tupps of Mr. Wray and his nephew’s infamous liquid. Those were the days when families sat down to dinner, when between bites of simple yet tasty food, conversation flowed, mixed as it were, with the crisp clean air, coming through open windows, which did not yet know the confinement of burglar bars, eliciting a joie de vivre,  for which remembering, my soul even now, longs. It was in the telling of one of these stories, that with a firm hand, she put her foot down, on my behalf.

Back in the day (the story went) of their growing up in Porty (the name by which Portlanders still lovingly refer to their parish capital), whoever was responsible for the first task, would never be expected to also do the second task. Let me explain. The  first task, was preparation of the meal with all the trimmings, including setting the table and ensuring that everyone was fortified. The second task, therefore, included clearing the table, washing, and putting away all used utensils. Thus, an unwritten law was established in their home. If yu firs, yu nu secan!

Ninin shared that story because being the only girl in our home, the first task had naturally fallen to me. Thank God for cookery and nutrition classes at school, which allowed me with good results, to experiment at home. Invariably, however, dinner being over, everyone went missing, and so the second task of clearing, washing, and putting things away, was usually left to, you guessed it…me!

My granny was not a professed women’s libber, but she was also no shrinking violet, when it came to knowing and demanding her rights. My heart did a summersault, therefore, – my face betraying no sign of my inner gymnastic skills – when Ninin told her first and second story and declared in her slow, quiet, but matter of fact style that since she was the oldest in the household, she would be brooking no argument. She then declared that anyone who was assigned the first task would not be allowed to do the second. Needless to say, those who had to take on the second task were not happy campers. Faces took on a twisted appearance, as mouths protruded well beyond their accustomed length but, as the elder had laid down the law, there was none to back talk her, not even my mother, the de facto head of the household😊.

I remain grateful for my granny Ninin’s nuggets of wisdom, especially now as in maturity, I am able to appreciate the meaning and value they have, individually and cumulatively, added to [my] life.

If there is an elder in your household, listen to them! If that elder, happens to be you, be generous in sharing with the younger generations (even if or when they seem not to be listening), all of which growing up, made life, and living special for you! Who knows, you may be planting seeds that will one day produce marvelous fruit, which will count towards a lasting legacy.

Until next time stay safe and well, as you remain in His grip,

Grace+