My Grandma

My Grandma

She seemed ageless. As if she was very much satisfied with her lot in life and was now in a kind of stasis where time simply stood still for her and she wouldn't age anymore. I never knew how old she was but, of course, that was not so relevant to the child I was. She was Connie Taffe, my maternal grandmother, and that was all that mattered to me. She was pretty short, about five feet, and had the loveliest ebony-hued skin that one could imagine. "Miss Mammy" or "Mama" as she was affectionately called by all and sundry, was a beautiful lady with an even more beautiful heart. She took pride in the daily activities she did without asking for help with anything. She was a very independent and industrious person and it was a joy to be in her presence. Her bubbly personality and enthusiasm for life were enviable.

My siblings and I were treated like royalty when we visited. Of Miss Mammy's eight children, two sons resided in Grand Cayman, but my mom was the only one in Jamaica who lived far away in the city so she valued the times she saw us and spoiled us rotten.

Miss Mammy was a heck of a cook and her kitchen fire was never extinguished. Though she had a kerosene oil stove in the three-bedroom house, it was hardly ever used. Instead, she had an outdoor kitchen where she did all the cooking, using wood as fuel for the fire and stoking the fire from time to time to keep it alive. There was never a time when there was not something cooking. "Blue draws", one of her most well-known dishes, were made with cornmeal, sugar, grated coconut flakes, and lots of spices mixed to a firm paste, tied in banana leaves and immersed in a pot of boiling water for a while. She also made corned pork with ackees and roasted breadfruit, and my favorite, grater cake which was made from grated coconut flakes and sugar. The heavenly tastes and flavors that Mama created with her wood-burning stove were to die for. The best cornmeal or sweet potato puddings that I have ever tasted came from her hand. It was impossible to be at her yard and experience the biting, gnawing pains of hunger crawling through our guts as she fed just about everyone, be it a family member or stranger.

The yard was a huge open space with brown tufts of grass and trees surrounding it. The flamingo pink structure of the house was to the right and the smoke-blackened wattle and daub of the kitchen, just beyond. To the left sat the big, sprawling catchment tank that was essential for life in the country. There was no piped water back then, so catchment tanks were used to collect the rainwater for household use. To effect this, gutters were set at the edges of the roof of the house and were connected to the tank. Also, rusted metal drums dotted the landscape and were just as necessary as the tank. The drum water was used to irrigate the many vegetable patches that Mama planted.

Even though she was the kindest soul who had a deep-rooted love for her family and people, she was also a menace who caused my quiet grandfather, Papa John, no small amount of embarrassment. She did things that were just contrary to the grandma I knew. One memory that stands fresh in my mind is of the day my cousins and I went over on the rocky overpass to climb fruit trees to get some guineps; small, green fruits with fleshy insides that grew in bunches. Miss Mammy came up there and when she looked under the trees, she realized by the number of fresh guineps and leaves strewn about, that the people who lived up there had been reaping her fruits. She was noticeably upset and told us, "If anyone a dem come under the tree, poop inna leaf and throw it in dem head." We laughed and thought it so funny.

However, as I got older, I seriously began to listen and pay keener attention to my grandma's language and her actions. There were times people would be afraid to walk by the yard as Miss Mammy would rain missiles of whatever she could find at them, be it yam, mango, pomegranates, or guineps - whatever was handy. She had an expression that she would always use and it just sounded both crass and rude to me. "If yu caan scoop yu better wipe out," she said. It was the first time I heard it and I was curious to know the meaning so I had the temerity to ask her.

"Mama, what dat mean?" I needed to know.

In my peripheral vision, a shadow of something loomed, coming at me. I could hardly move fast enough and almost got slam dunked by half a loaf of bread. I was jittery and nervous, keeping my distance from her, but then, in a relatively short time, she seemed to have forgotten about me "sassing" her, as she called it, so all was well with the world again.

On numerous occasions, I would sneak around to Papa John's room just to sit and chat with him. He was always accomodating in his gentle way and never too busy to talk with me. when I asked him about Mama's behavior, he always seemed shrouded by a heavy cloud of sadness.

"She shame mi all di time but, what to do? Something not right, she never was like this." Scratching his head, he would drift off in space.

"Papa John, what yu think happen to her? Sometimes she mek me 'fraid and then I want to stay away from her." I was being as honest as I could be. It was as if from one minute to the next you never knew which Connie Taffe you were going to encounter.

"I nuh know at all, she just making me a laughing stock, that I do know." I heard the hurt in his voice and it made me sad because I knew that my grandma was the best grandmother ever. I mean, we had our father's mom who lived in the same parish that we lived in, so much closer to us, yet we hardly ever saw her. She was as distant to us as the miles that separated us from Miss Mammy. Her house was not the place that we could go to and have a meal waiting for us no matter how much notice was given that we were coming. My father tended to keep us away because she was not as kind to us as Miss Mammy was.

It soon became a favorite pastime for many people to pass by and say things to her just to rile her up and see her reaction. To see if she would "stone" them or say any of the outrageous things that she was known to say. She was now fast becoming the district entertainment. Even relatives would make fun of her whenever she was in one of her many "moods" and that was even worse than when strangers did it.

Now, usually on our trips to the country, my daddy would allow a neighbor to "ride along" with us. Over the years they had heard us kids talk, not just about our grandma, but about the aunts and uncles who lived in the district, so over time, quite several people had traveled with us to experience the hospitality of our relatives. However, after Mama started having her episodes, we stopped taking visitors with us. I mean, it was one thing for the villagers and us to see her ranting and getting on like a banshee, but quite a different kettle of fish for "outsiders" to see it first-hand. However, my cousin Steve, my father's nephew, became the exception.

Steve was sent to stay with my family because he was said to be "lost in life." At the time, I wondered if our home was a shelter as so many relatives had, by then, sought refuge in our household. My child-like mind had not yet grasped the concept of charitable actions that were done without any thought of repayments. Steve was a simpleton to the bone and it was hard to imagine that the big, round head that he was lugging around was full of anything but wind and he gave us no reason to think otherwise. He was that idiot who went shoe shopping, tried the shoes on, and proudly strutted home with his chest all puffed out, giving himself imaginary honors for a job well done. Lo and behold, simple Steve had bought himself a pair of shoes only that they were two left shoes instead of a left and a right.

Well, Steve the exception, was our last visitor to my grandma's house. In preparation, my mom had given him the lowdown on Miss Mammy so he was made aware of her behaviors and mood changes. The moment we got there, however, he was caught like a spider in a tightly woven web.

Miss Mammy circled him like she was checking him for defects then promptly announced, "If I meet mi lover this year, I marry him in the comin' year!"

At this, all who were within hearing distance got her undivided attention.

"Boy, talk! Yu cannot talk? Yu have a big head and nothing in it? Talk! I sey, if I meet mi lover this year, I marry him in the comin' year!"

Steve shifted uneasily from one foot to the other as his eyes scanned the wide expanse of the yard. He noted all his spectators before dropping his eyes to the dried up tufts of grass under his feet. Silent. As if he had opened a door inside himself and retreated. His throat visibly moved as he made several big swallows, still moving each foot as if he was standing on a hot surface. In shock, we watched as my grandma sidled closer to him, grabbed his chin, and stared him in the eyes, then, stepping back, she slapped him across his face. You could have heard a leaf in the wind as total silence descended. Steve still could not find his voice. He stopped shifting and just stared blankly ahead while from his eyes, silvery streaks flowed to the corners of his mouth and landed in spatters on the indigo blue of his short-sleeved denim shirt. Time stood still. The air became claustrophobic as if every bit of nitrogen was being sucked from the atmosphere.

Just then, my mom walked out of the house where she had been putting away some items that she had taken for Miss Mammy, and was greeted by the silence. She quickly walked up to the center of the gathered circle, checking each face on her journey.

"What happened here?" she asked.

Someone, I think it was my cousin Roman, cleared his throat nervously. Scanning the faces all around, Mom jammed her finger in his shoulder and repeated with gritted teeth,

"I said, what happened here?"

Roman quickly found his tongue and gave a condensed recap. My mom once again scanned the faces all around then sighed dramatically. She looked at my two uncles who were present, her brothers, and said, "Yu both allowed this to happen? It is so entertaining that yu didn't think to stop it? Shame on yu all!" In all fairness, my mom knew that Miss Mammy did not respond to instructions from them. In fact, there were only a few people who could calm her and my mom was one of them.

She then turned to Miss Mammy and said, "Shame on yu, Mama. What is wrong with yu? Yu need to apologize to Steve. Tell him that yu sorry."

All my grandma did was look at Eddie and say, "If I meet mi lover this year, mi marry him the coming year."

However, it was apparent that her mood had changed. She just seemed deflated as a leftover balloon from a kid's party. She walked away and went to the kitchen. Steve being Steve, he went and plunked himself to the side of the kitchen where he spent most of the day. I guessed that he wanted a bit more of the attention and would invite any kind of drama to get it.

****

My grandmother died eleven years ago. Towards the latter part of her life, she became very quiet and restless as she got to the point where she was not being allowed to do the things around the yard that she had once loved doing. Now that I have a bit more knowledge of life, I have come to understand that she was in a very much demented state. She had Alzheimer's disease, a progressive disorder that is the most common cause of dementia and is characterized by plaques and tangles in the cerebral cortex that destroys normal brain functioning.

Her manic episodes remain unforgotten. Interestingly though, her former days of being the excellent humanitarian that she was, lives on in the hearts of many, and that is spoken of more than her latter days when she was plagued by nasty mood swings and bad behavior that was the onset of, a then unrecognized illness. Miss Mammy's kindness is still being appreciated and paid forward. In the years since I have migrated to the United States, I have met people who treat me well, simply for the fact that I am a grandchild of Connie Taffe.