No. 1
Christmas time in Jamaica, when we were kids, started on Christmas Eve. My brothers and I, along with our mum, would leave our home in the early morning and catch the bus to the local town to enjoy a special day out called Grand Market Day.
Our dad would stay behind to bake our deserts, including rum cake and sweet potato cake, and make our sorrel and ginger drink with some super strong overproof rum. Yes, we got to try some of that. Delish.
Our day at the market was always a special one as this was when our mum would give me and my brothers our pocket money for the year. We would then use it to buy our own Christmas gifts.
I was about six or seven when I bought my first toy at the market. A pale blue and yellow plastic trumpet. It didn’t last long. Not sure what happened to that.
I loved it – Grand Market Day. We would hop around the market with glee, looking over toys we wished we could buy but being happy with our selection because we had bought them ourselves. Spending our own little money like grown-ups.
We had to negotiate the price too with the stall sellers - counting up our change, hoping we had enough left over to buy some sweets for our return journey. Feeling happy as the sellers would always give us at least 10 cents back, enough for an Icy Mint.
We learned from a very young age not to be wasteful or ask our parents for things that we could not afford. And to be happy with what we had – up to a point. We are still dreamers.
Our parents gave us special treats of course and so did our relatives when they came back home from foreign to visit us up country.
One year I was given my first dolly by my American cousins. I named her Alexis. I still have her.
I was thinking about these times over the holidays as I celebrated my 41st birthday.
What innocent times.
This year I’m going to try to live by these memories.
Happy New Year.
Best wishes,
Sherry Collins
