Yellow Reggae

Four.

                                                     >>>>Nami.<<<<

  The beating sun burned through my green tank top and ragged denim shorts as I walked down Studley Park Road, where the sweetly intoxicating aroma of coconuts tickled my nose. I looked to my right, seeing an elderly man sitting on his porch. He had sat in a rocking chair, chopping a coconut with a cutlass while humming Three Little Birds by Bob Marley. I smiled at the sight of the elderly man. He looked so carefree and blessed to still be alive.

  "Wah gwan?" The elderly man bellowed to me. I guess he must've saw me watching him. I remained silent. "Come here an' chat with mi."

  Hesistantly, I walked across the street to him. He gave me a kind and warming smile that could brighten anyone's day. I got a good look at the man's wrinkly face. He didn't look as if he wanted to do any harm to me, but like my parents always taught me, never judge a book by its cover.

  "Yuh new to Jamaica?" The man inquired.

  I nodded. "Yes, sir. I'm from America."

  "Yuh di foreign gyal mi heard 'bout, huh?" He said with a knowing smile. It was my fifth day here and my presence was already buzzing throughout the neighborhoods? Interesting. "Wah yuh name, gyal?"

  "Nami." I answered him. He nodded, continuing to chop the coconuts he had in the wicker bowl of his. 

  "Beautiful name," He replied. He chopped the final coconut up, reaching the coconut out to me. "Yuh seem parched. Drink."

  "No thanks." I said politely, not trying to come off as if I was being disrespectful.

  "Drink." He repeated as if he didn't hear my response to him.

  I shrugged. I doubt he did anything to it; he did cut it right in front of me. I tilted my head back as I sipped from the coconut. The cool, fresh juice traveled through my body, sending me into an exhilarating state of mind.

  "Mmmm," I moaned in satisfaction as I wiped the excess juice away from my mouth. "I never had such a tasty coconut juice like that one."

  "Dat is 'cause di juice is how yuh foreigns seh, fresh. Fresh good, Nami." The man explained to me as he pulled out an ripened, already peeled orange from his pocket. He peeled off a slice, popping it into his mouth. "Yuh a beautiful gyal, Nami. Yuh bring di freshness with yuh everywhere yuh go. Stay away from di rude bwois, yuh hear? Fresh go spoiled any minute."

  I nodded my head in agreement, smiling at the man. "Thank you so much. I really appreciate it."

  "Nuh problem. Nuh, go on. Mi nuh waan fi waste di yute's time." He chuckled, smiling.

  I chuckled. "Alright, sir. See you around!"

  "More time!" He replied as I walked off. I guess that was his way of saying 'goodbye' to me. I needed to brush up my knowledge of their slang—or patois, so to say. Over the past five days, I got some of their patois down. I'll understand it completely in due time.

  I continued walking until I heard the hype sounds of music. It reminded me of five days ago when I heard the music blasting from the car. I was slightly scared to enter the source of music, especially since I nearly got shot in the midst of doing that the last time.

  You can't hide from it forever, My subconscious told me. It was true. This is your new home. Embrace it.

  As my mind tried keeping my feet glued to the ground, my body disagreed, picking my feet up. I walked down the block, soon letting my inhibitions go. When I reached the source of music, I realized it was coming from a boombox. A girl, who looked my age, danced gracefully to the sound of the Jamaican man singing to the rhythmic beat. Her hips created lithe, circular motions that would make me want her to jump my bones if I was a guy.