By ~ kaka Lucas 31 Aug, 2022

A week ago we went to the beach with one hundred and forty (140) people. It was an annual event that I had never experienced in my lifetime. One hundred and forty men and women: family, neighbors, workmates and friends. This was a big number for my eyes to look at all at once. It was a big family beach day.

From as early as 6 am, people started flocking the church compound. We had a Mass that lasted for about an hour outside the courtyard. The oldies sat on the chairs which had been set up for them by Omar, while those with stronger bones stood adorably participating in the greatest prayer of gratitude, Holy Mass.

As soon as Mass was finished, the big comfortable buses were parked along the narrow King Street in Spanish Town. Yes, Knutsford!  just to let you know that this is not a cheap family. They travel not only in comfort, but also in style. They all lined up like sheep waiting to be let out from the shed.

The dress code was the ‘dress to kill’ kind of beachwear you could never imagine. But most of the wonders of those dresses were hidden in blue jeans pants and pretty … pretty dresses that are only worn during summertime. You know what I am talking about. Going to the beach is one dress, while on the beach is another dress, and driving home is a totally different dress code. That must be the reason everyone was carrying big bags.

I drove with the executives, the man of the yard, his mother, and my super cook. How could I have left her behind on such a big day?

A day before this actual day, we had gone shopping with Kev. He got some beer, but he didn’t drink half of it because the man of the yard became “Fada Holung” on the beach. He distributed most of the drinks to anyone who seemed thirsty. Thank God I had eaten my snacks the night before the beach trip so my intestines were set busy from the word go. And boss lady, Mrs. Brown had brought some goodies for me … what a love!

I drove as many of us Jamaicans drive, speedily, but safely. I had to please the executives otherwise, I could be deported to another parish. The co-driver also played nice church music to please the boss lady. He had to be on his best behavior, otherwise he could get a nice whooping with the walking stick mama was using.

Having arrived at the venue at least thirty minutes earlier, we secured our seats and waited for the two giant buses to arrive. Before the buses came to a halt, some of the young warm-blooded were already out and ready to come face to face with the water that was gently throwing itself along the shore as if to say to us, “welcome to 876 beach”.

 

I could have given you details of the walking style toward the beach chairs that were set up for us, but let me not get myself in trouble.

The boys stripped in pubic for you already know they are boys and the girls went to the bathroom and came out in their beach wear. Now I had to control my eyes for some of the beach wear were of bright colors and others had princess shapes. You could have easily missed who the person was if you didn’t look twice. The boys were bare-chested and those with what they considered seven packs were clearly visible for they occupied the biggest spaces on the beach. For them, they had to have their t-shirts to hide the “beauty” of their potbelly.

While the beach chairs suffered the weight of some of us, the salty water troubled some people who went pakach! pakach! Going in the water wasn’t uncomfortable, the waves welcomed everybody with a wet slap on the skin. Thank God for the location, as most of the people’s skin glittered in glory and beauty.

You couldn’t stop people from smiling. Some smiles just come natural while others were as a results of overflowing gratitude from within. There was love all over the beach and you couldn’t turn a step around without seeing love waving for you or touching you so gently and caring. They walked in two’s or more holding each other and swam together. The bonding was tighter than couples who just met. Especially for grandparents and their grandchildren. It made me roll a tear from one eye, since I had to keep watching with the other. Just know it was tear of joy.

There was this tall, dark, handsome dude who had his head covered with a black dura-rag. He was the paparazzi for the day. He walked with this black, dark big camera in his hand, and when people least expected, he snapped them. Many of them fixed their eyes on him to avoid awkward pictures, especially when they were eating, diving, or dozing off. Believe me, this man took a few shots of one lady who was drowning the pastor. Yes! The pastor went into the water this time.

There were also games on the beach. The warm-blooded ones could not sit one place for long. They were everywhere like bacteria. They started playing dandy shandy and one with an elephant’s size shook the whole beach when he tried to escape from the ball that was thrown at rocket speed by Ryan. Senior citizens and those who didn’t play, were the audience and their clapping could call the dolphins from the furthest end of the Caribbean Sea.

The day ended with a shower from above. I believe that, had it not been for the rain, some people, like the paparazzi, would have stayed there until late, but knowing how much he loves his room, he instead helped the people to get on the bus quickly so he could get back home early. Since everyone was on the move, he also had to get in the ‘taxi’ that now was driven by the man of the yard.

The drive home was not bad. The driver tried to show his good skills to the lady boss and the other executive who didn’t want to give any bad comments about his driving for fear that they would be thrown out of the car.

We reached home safely and so did the others who came with us. It was a day well spent. A day I would want to happen again soon, especially the meal part. I can tell you, the paparazzi didn’t leave even a grain of rice and he drank some bitter beer which he was given. One beer for the entire day!

The day ended with a big “THANK GOD” as I folded myself onto my fluffy bed.

All pictures were taken by the most quite member of the church. Brother Lucas ….. he’s our best photographer