Tales from Jamaica- the Veranda

The veranda in the morning

Beneath the zinc rooftop where the bug-seeking lizards scurry between tree bark and wooden planks, and there opposite the half-brick half-concrete liquor shop, the sound of dominoes slapping down from rum touched and sweaty palms echoes and travels across the decrepit road – with the shock factor of an unsuspected mosquito bite. Overlooking trees which bare many brightly-coloured fruits, the most prominent in the yard being the long-limbed plum tree. Elegantly shaped, its branches shelter the three-legged dog from the draining sun, but there amongst all of the peculiar countryside dwellings stands the veranda. The hub of Jamaican family life. Varnished in the sun-kissed shade of sienna with a top-coat of dusty footprints. Sweet with the aroma from the fire-stoked pots, alive with patwa chat and laughter. The veranda has years of tales to tell…(This I wrote while fighting flies off of my arms, hidden from the mid-morning sun on my plastic garden chair. Just a bit of creative writing on my holiday).

The closed shop

The most elegant tree of them all

The pet with 3 limbs and no name


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