Paradise Lost

Nestled in the not so far hills off the coast of Montego Bay(the second city, the apotheosis of a synergy of rural and urban life) is Paradise Acres.


Welcome to Paradise Acres September 1992:

The preamble

Just to put you into context, in 1992 Baywest shopping centre was yet to be finished, Blue Diamond cinema was a feature attraction, Margueritaville was far from the minds of most party goers, the thing was Pier One. School fee was $300, lunch at the Cornwall College canteen came to the grand total of $15 (for a patty cocobread and box drink). Shalman Scott or Arthur Gilchrist was still mayor, Bogue was undeveloped, Lagoons was never there, and he Montego Bay promenade looked very vintage, board walks, board buildings and the works.


Moving to the stage

It is 4 o' clock in the afternoon, on any given Friday. School is out for the weekend, no one has plans for doing their homework till Sunday. Several Cornwall College students return to Paradise from extra classes at Montego Bay High School, where they all probably spent the afternoon fantasizing about their Spanish teacher Miss Cogle. But More so they probably spent most of the week fantasizing about football and cricket in the streets, matches and games that were spectated by anyone and everyone who lived in and about the community. Matches that were soundtracked by the likes of Dawn Penn (No no no. You don't love me, yes I know now) and Yellowman.


Paradise acres is littered with children, pre-pubescents and teens. To those still enchanted with youth and on the cusp of departing from it, adventure, no matter how rare or scarce always seemed just around the bend. It is a time when imaginations are still fervent. They are fed, fuelled and fostered by books like Jean Da Costa's Sprat Morrison as well as Young Warriors, Three Finger Jack, Green Days by the River, A Brighter Sun and Summer in San Fernando. It is an age in which, Rolling Calves, Black Heart Men and River Mumma's still had some fleeting ground in reality. The infinite that was summer had long days of endless bicycling through places such as Norwood, Dunbar, Mango Walk, "Vietnam", Bread Lane, Albion and "The Drives." Eternal hours in the "Greens" eating of NaseBerry trees, mango trees and guinep trees. Cricket was a pass time and girls were an ever elusive quest.


Friday evening sky is Air Jamaica hues of orange, purple and yellow. The sacred and revered evening is a ritual of football on the streets of Paradise Acres and most frequently on Hoyt Drive. Friday evenings and nights are ushered in by the regular street corner sound system known as San-Fi. It is accompanied by the chicken sold in front of Glen’s board shop and the scent of marijuana in the backdrop.


The early part of the night is heralded in by the rated ‘g’ music from the likes of Beres Hammond, Jocob Miller, Gregory Isaacs, Dennis Brown, Half Pint, Eek-a-mouse and too many more to remember. In this, the dawning of the night as it were, the sky is usually hued in deep oranges and violets. The ‘sussing’(or macoing for the trini readers) and musing of women and girls as they sit in front their yards commences, there is also the reasoning and humouring of ‘yutes’ as they sit on the sidewalks and take in the Friday evening. Drinking, cigarette smoking, dominoes and ludo are everywhere from various bars dotting the area.


The night evolves from its rated ‘g’ reggae/dancehall into more contemporary rated ‘r’ or even ‘x’ productions from the likes of Bounty Killer, Beenie Man, Capleton, Buju Banton, General Degree, Lady Saw, Luciano and Garnett Silk amongst others. The night progresses, propelled and fuelled by Guinness, Heineken and RedStripe became the beverages of choice with the occasional Stones Ginger Wine or Red Label Wine.

© Yannick Nesta Pessoa & Azteka Designs MMV (2005 a.d.) ®