simhanada:

poete:

Toshio Saeki

when we were in Ocho Rios last month we frequented a nearby Epping gas station to get “jellies” from a man named Marlin. He sold select local produce out the back of a van. The van was parked in a grassy lot in front of the station and Marlin was usually there with a couple of coworkers/loiterers. Marlin was in his 30s, had unkempt cornrows, the tall thin chiseled frame of a man who’s labored his entire life and a contented nature highlighted by the occasional smile. He was missing a good few teeth. The first couple of times we went to Marlin the transaction was cordial but short. We’d drink the coconut water then hand the husk back to him. He’d split the coconut with his machete, cut off a small piece of the husk for spooning, and hand the pieces back to us, the jelly ripe and exposed. Next to the van lay a messy pile of empty coconut halves. Marlin also sold fresh ackee, plantains and sugar cane, all piled inside the van in sections.

About the third or fourth visit, Marlin struck up a conversation. He removed the limp roach from his lips and asked if we were married. When we said no, he asked if we had any children. When we said no, he asked why not. A rhetorical question really and the start of a small sermon. I should start having children right away, he said. Because when I get older my back and legs get weak which will make it harder to have children. I have thirteen children, he said. I asked if they were all from the same women and he said they were, to my surprise. You never know what can happen, you could get hit by a car tomorrow, he continued. You don’t want to have any regrets. And anyway, you need someone(s) to take care of you when you get old. So you have to have children now, while the bamboo is strong. He bent his arm so his forearm and fist stood erect before us. He smiled. We laughed. “Don’t wait too long!” He then pointed to a group of small black plastic bags hanging in a bunch off the side of his van. The peanut section - bamboo strengthening foods.

I remembered a documentary I saw in college about people working inside the international african artwork/artifact industry. Don’t remember which african countries were involved but essentially men would hand make simple wooden crafts, put the crafts through a rapid aging process, and sell them off to independent western (white) buyers who would then fabricate the dates and mark up the price overseas. One of the african forgers lived in a meager home and had over 10 children. When asked about the strain of supporting such a large family he said something like “Children are wealth where I come from. A rich man with no children has nothing.”