My choice for assimilating new information will always be reading it from a script or seeing someone deft with their hands/ or have a skill, complete a task. To me, there is something magical to someone who can bring an idea to life.
My thoughts go back to some of the more fond memories of my childhood when I sat in silence with my paternal grandfather for hours. Nathaniel Jackson, whose nickname was ‘boomtown’ got the name during his younger years due to his ability to face anyone in a physical fight. He would often take it upon himself to serve justice to wife beaters especially, from the stories shared. I only saw him irritated once or twice but never angry . I never saw him angry ever.
Some of the other things I recalled of him was his love for the strongest coffee which he loved super hot, bitter and in small portions. Probably explains why I love coffee so much. He would often inhale the spirit of ammonia not sure why. He played the harmonica or ‘mouth organ’. He was a very tall, handsome man and when he left home to ‘go out the road’ as he would say, he was always well-dressed (felt hats and the best pair of shoes). Brace yourself on a Friday evening since he often returned intoxicated. Still, he was a ‘happy drunk’, much to the dismay of my dad and uncle who did not like seeing their daddy in that condition it seems. But I enjoyed listening to him even then since everything made sense, it was almost poetic. He would often repeat ‘I will never die and leave you ignorant of the facts’ even then I could never go to sleep knowing he was up. He could have easily been my favourite human being at the time.
He was better known as the village ‘shoemaker’ or cobbler, a descendant of the ‘merikins’. By now you can probably guess which part of the Trinidad he was from (St. Julien Village, Princes Town). I would often sit for hours with him as he always did a monologue while he repaired a shoe or built a pair of shoes from scratch. I think as I got older, the monologue changed to dialogue, but whenever he was repairing a shoe, he became enrapt in what he was doing. He would take a break, and in those moments, he would speak. I am sure when I started sitting on the special bench, he made for me to look at him while he worked, I was unable to speak then I think. I sat there for long hours, he did talk to me, and I understood every word. He used to call me ‘little old lady’.
He had a way with this very sharp knife, he had other tools (there was a piece called a ‘blakie’, and there were pairs of wooden feet he often used to replace the shoe sole to name a few) as well. I loved the way he manoeuvred wax, thread and a needle to sew a delicate area of a side of shoe gone bad. Villagers would often come to him to fix one side of shoe although the pair needed fixing. He would often explain that both sides needed fixing since it would save them a ‘little change’ (meaning money). He would always fix both sides.
He paid attention to the fine details, I often wondered why he placed both the detached sole and the shoe in the sun with a coating of ‘contact cement’ for such a long time. He said to make sure it lasts. He would take his time to stick them together and would use a flat-faced hammer. It did not end there as he would then use the wax, thread and needle and sew it together. In my mind, I did not think all those actions were necessary. Still, reflecting now, I understood why he believed in doing quality work and had his system of quality assurance. Everybody brought their shoes for him to fix, they would also bring new pairs of shoes for him to resole and sew.
I remember there was also a parang band I think that emanated from my grandmother as her family were Spanish descent, but he played the ‘box bass’ and always had his mouth organ in his back pocket.
He made me a pair of sneakers once, he felt proud of himself. I remember he got the unique leatherette in both colours of light green and silver. I am not sure where he got the prototype from, but that pair of shoes easily weighed around 8 to 10 pounds. It was heavvvvy. I remember having speed after taking off the shoes before running a race and winning.
I remember when we moved to Ecclesville, and I had to go to primary school, I saw less of him. I would often go back to St. Julien for the August vacation, and then it was my turn to share my stories with him. That place always gives me a special nudging as there were all kinds of fruit trees on his land, my favourite trees were the mango trees, the wild cherry tree called ‘lay-lay’ and the lucky tree. He kept his garden in top condition - there was ginger, ‘topi-tambu’ a fragrant tasting root almost the size and shape of larger cherries. There were a fresh-water spring and a pond on the land - I remember drinking the water from the spring, they often used the water to cook and wash.
I was not the talkative type, I was an observer, so he encouraged me to share my thoughts with him, what my thoughts were about things. I think he knew I did not like talking much; I was more of a thinker. I remember him telling me that I must try to read, and would often give me a book to write things he wrote before. His handwriting was also impeccable.
I remember writing the common entrance exam, I had an excellent primary school experience. In essence, I did everything; I participated in every kind of sports, I recited poems, I sang in the choir. I also sang solos, I had a knack for writing stories. I was also an entrepreneur (smile) as I sold all kinds of chow and saved money in the junior cooperative. I remember that graduation getting a lot of prizes, got a few trophies and some books. I had to spend many lunchtimes getting coached to deliver the valedictory speech. I was happy to make the journey to visit my grandfather to tell him about this. He wanted every detail, and I remember how glad he was as it was my turn to make him laugh. I was happy to see him, and he did say that he was proud of me. He asked me about this school I passed for, I told him I did not know the school existed, in fact, the first time I heard the name of the school was when the teachers announced the results.
That August that decision was made for me to stay in Ecclesville as items had to be prepared for the new school and the new school term. The arrangements were made for me to stay with my grandparents once school was opened. The school was located in Moruga which was not very far from St. Julien much closer than Rio Claro. I did not mind not spending time with him that August because I knew I was going to see him a whole lot. Life is strange during that period he stopped drinking alcohol I heard. He fell ill, went to the hospital and never returned home. That August, my grandfather died. I remember the wake, and I listened to the stories people shared about him. I remembered seeing him in the coffin but not being able to go to the cemetery or the church. That August I read my first novel ‘Heidi’ it was a prize I won for one of the subject areas. That book resonated with me as it was the story of a girl and her grandfather. I did not have a human being around who was as wise as him then. So I started to read, I used books to not only escape but to find the answers I was looking for. As I reflect, a number of my profound internal pivots were followed after reading books. I have read hundreds of books over my lifetime, but a few stand out, including:
Heidi - Johanna Spyri
Bring out the magic of your mind - Al Koran
Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Answer as a man - Catherine Cookson
Tapping the power within: A path to self-empowerment for black women - Iyanla Vanzant
The Alchemist - Paolo Coelho
Can’t hurt me: Master your mind and defy the odds - David Goggins
Beyond the Boundary - CLR James.
My grandfather is my favourite ancestor. I think from him I learnt about implementation and doing things with a system which should be adhered to even when no one was looking. It was strange that his objective was not satisfying the customer but rather the joy and fulfilment he got from doing what he loved. He spared nothing in getting the quality products and resources needed to complete the job. He had a system for people who owed him and collecting money. In essence, I received the payments sometimes, and he would instruct on the amount of change to give the person. Sometimes the person really could not pay, and he never was harsh but told them to remember him whenever they got the money.
My grandfather was interesting to me as he was the first example of a perfectionist.
