Looking Out

A favourite pastime for Wendy and me was to look out of a front window of our home at the passing street scene. We were both very small, being under six years old, so used a chair to stand on. The gallery at the front of the house was protected by adjustable jalousies and windows each side of the central front door; they can be seen clearly in the photograph at the end of this blog. The four tall windows were held open by a long stick, though only the two facing the street were usually opened during the daytime. They offered protection from the sun and rain but were closed and latched at night for security. The moveable jalousies were pushed up and propped closed before going to bed, to prevent thieves from pushing wires through the slats to unhook the windows, thereby gaining entry to the home. The window sticks could also be used to hit intruders or pesky visitors.

The best loved happenings were funerals, weddings, hawkers of fish, vegetables, manure, ice and bread. Then there were people such as school children, rubbish collectors, the man who swept the gutters, workers, the postman and cyclists on their way somewhere.

A favourite procession was a funeral on its way to the cemetery. The size of the funeral was determined by the importance of the deceased or the wealth of the family. Most people attending would be in cars. Very seldom would there be walkers. First of all came the black hearse bearing the flower covered coffin seen through the glass windows along the length of the hearse. It always drove by very slowly. My task was to count the cars following the hearse. This kept me occupied and helped me, and my sister later on, to practice counting. Once the last car had driven by we would jump off our chairs and run inside to pass on to the grown ups this valuable information. I did not associate this event with sadness or loss, neither of which had touched my life so far.

In those days mourners wore black, white or lavender. The close family of the deceased would be in black, with black hat and fascinator. Friends, acquaintances and those paying their respects to the family, would sometimes wear lavender, but black was the preferred choice. Occasionally white would be worn.

Another similar procession, but one that was much harder to keep track of, was the wedding. The cars rushed by with horns blowing to announce the event. I sometimes lost track of the numbers due to distraction. The stylish hats and dresses glimpsed through the car windows had to be noted so that I could tell the grownups what wonderful clothes I had seen.

The bridal car was first in line. Unlike modern times it was never decorated. Then came the bridal attendants, parents, best man and ushers (now called groomsmen). Mummy, Granny and Aunt Jean loved the weddings as it gave them ideas of the current fashions, so they would be at the windows with us sometimes, enjoying the parade.

Watching school children pass was also of interest. All ages, in their uniforms, would stroll by. There were several schools within walking distance. Next door was the Daily Meal School for poor white children. They attended school in their own clothes. Across the road on the corner, in an old, grand residence, was the Seventh Day Adventist School. Their uniform was a maroon tunic with a golden yellow blouse and a red and gold striped tie. A hat and brown shoes with white socks completed the outfit. I don't know what they did for recreation as the house had only a small garden, not enough for play.

About half way along the street was a boy's school, Combermere School. Their uniform was khaki shorts and shirt with laced up shoes and socks. I cannot remember the colour of the shoes nor of any head wear, if any. I did not like it when the boys called out to me and some would blow kisses. This would definitely drive me off the chair in fright and embarrassment to run back inside to be in the safe company of the grownups.

The two top secondary schools in Barbados at the time were Queen's College for girls and Harrison's College for boys. They both had distinctive uniforms consisting of shorts, shirt and tie for the boys and royal blue tunic with white blouse for the girls. Both uniforms were complete with hats and the usual polished, laced up shoes and sock. Students attending these schools, which were about a mile or so away, would pass by on bicycles or on foot on their way to classes.

The distinctive squeak of the large wooden wheels would announce the arrival of the red J & R Bakeries cart long before it appeared. The bread man would blow a whistle outside the house just in case the occupants had not heard the squeak and rumble of his bread cart. He would open one sloping side at the top of the cart to display his stock. The shape of the cart was like a double gabled cottage. One side of the "roof" would be propped open with a stick to display the loaves below. The yeasty fragrance of fresh bread would be wafted into the house on the breeze. The sweet bread would normally be arranged in a tray at the top, supported by runners along which it could slide. The 'salt' bread was stored at the bottom.

Pan loaves, round corrugated bolsters and penny loaves were stock items. The penny loaves always had that name even as the price rose. I liked them the best for breakfast. The texture was fine and the flavour strong. There were two sizes of this type of loaf. One regular one which was a filling meal for one, or the larger one, about double in size, which could be sliced or shared. The smaller one formed the basis for 'cutters' when filled with ham, or fried fish, cheese, or sardines. The 'penny' loaves were fat and not quite round. They often had a sliver of coconut palm leaf embedded in the top which made the loaf split and stretch at that point. The dried leaf was about three or four inches long.

The sweet breads were usually items like coconut turnovers, coconut bread or cinnamon rolls. My favourite was the coconut turnover, a rare treat. Outside was light brown and painted with a sugary glaze, while inside was moist and filled with sweet grated coconut with little flecks of the coconut skin.

The clop of hooves and again, the squeak and rumble of wooden wheels, alerted me to the nearing of a donkey cart. The driver would sometimes shout commands to the beast, often accompanied by the stroke of a whip. The beast of burden was sometimes a mule. The rickety cart was never painted, but was shades of grey with age and mildew. They were probably made from recycled timber, constantly updated. They passed by regularly, moving slowly with their loads of sweet potatoes, yams and, occasionally, manure.

They sometimes sold 'shave ice'. I was never allowed to buy this delicacy as it could not be guaranteed that the previous contents of the cart was not manure! Nor could the hygiene of the vendor be vouched for. This treat was produced from a large block of ice, wrapped in layers of 'crocus bag' (hessian). The vendor would use some type of steel plane to shave the ice; this loose, shaved ice would be dropped into a paper cup and a flavoured syrup of your choice would be poured over it. A refreshing snack.

The hawkers on foot would be striding along with wooden trays or wicker baskets balanced on their heads. The load would be cushioned by a coiled length of cloth, forming a pad. They sold fish or vegetables such as tomatoes, lettuce, okras, shallots or cucumbers and several types of herbs. Sometimes they would have fresh eggs, individually wrapped in torn pieces of newspaper. They would shout as they walked along, letting the householders know what they had for sale. The voices calling "Flying fish, dolphin" stressing the last sylable, followed by "who calling, call!" If the fish were plentiful they would also announce the price, such as 15 for a dollar.

I particularly liked the road sweeper. He had no need to attract attention. He just got on with his work as quickly as he could. He would walk along the side of the road pushing the water and debris along with a stiff broom. Every few yards he would pull a small heap of rubbish out of the gutter and leave it by the side to drain. He had a rhythm to his sweeping and mounding. I wanted to help him as it looked like fun. During the week a van or truck would arrive with men walking behind to shovel up these little mounds and toss them into the van to be dumped, along with the household garbage.

Some passers by would say good morning or afternoon and enquire after one or all of the grown ups. I was taught to be polite and reply in kind. If it was someone with whom I was unfamiliar, I would smile shyly and run inside.

The photo below shows the front of my home on King Street, Bridgetown. Aunt Jean, in her red and white crepe dress and stylish shoes, poses in front of the entrance. The name of the cottage, "Mayville", was painted on a metal plaque which was nailed above the front door.