Free No Woman No Cry by Rita Marley Page B

That’s the house?” Because it wasn’t what I thought of as a house, or at least not what we meant by a house in Trench Town. But he said, “Yes, that’s it, let’s go.”
    We climbed the hill, though it was getting dark and as he had warned, there was no electricity, so there were cries of “Where’s the lamp? Where’s the lamp?” And when we got inside and I saw there was no kitchen or toilet, I thought, oh my God, what did I get myself into. The smell of the place nauseated me, and I realized that this is what Aunty had been trying to warn me about. Still, I knew that going back to Trench Town right then was not an option. Whatever it is, I thought, that’s what my husband has, and that’s what I have to accept. I felt as if I had entered a different world.
    Yet being surrounded by all these loving people who were so glad to see us felt just fine. His mother’s sister’s children, his cousins Clove, Dotty, and Helen, and his Aunt Amy and Aunty Ceta made me so welcome and kept saying, “Oh Mas Nes, what a nice girl you have for your wife!” “Anything you want, just call.” It was decided that Clove was to be the helper for us, and to this day Clove is still Cedella’s favorite, because it was she who nurtured me through my pregnancy.
    That night I told Bob that it looked like life was going to be rough, but that I was ready. The next day we got started, trying to figure out how we were going to make things work. We had to rig up a bed from some boards and logs, and prepare a kitchen. But everybody came and gave a hand. And I really began to enjoy the adventure.
    At the end of a week, as I’d promised, I took the bus back to Kingston to spend some time with Sharon and tell Aunty how fine we were, and so she could see for herself that I was still looking good. Naturally she was not impressed. “You better come back home!” was all she had to say. So I had to close my ears. I bought some things we needed, borrowed some curtains and sheets from Aunty, kissed Sharon and promised to take her with me next time, and went downtown and got back on the bus. I remember that this one was called “Promised Land.”
    And we began to live happily in that land—without worrying that Aunty was listening to everything we did and said. We could scream and be happy and be free! And that was such fun, to be totally independent. I felt, at last, like a grown woman. I’d get up in the morning and go to my own little kitchen, and bring water up the hill to my yard. Just the thought that we owned a yard now made Bob so proud. I think it added to his manhood. You could see the change in him, now that he was in his territory. And I could tell he was happy, because the first thing he took up after we unpacked was his little acoustic guitar. And right away he started to play and write songs—one of them mentions “the house on top of the hill.”
    And we did, indeed “do farming,” as Aunty had predicted, on property that had belonged to his grandfather that someone in Bob’s family allowed him to use. We planted yams, potatoes, and cabbage, and to get to our farm we had a pet donkey called Nimble. Every morning our friend Nimble would take me to the farm on his back, clippety-clop, clippety-clop , slowly, slowly, with Bob walking beside, and everybody would say, “Mas Nes!” “Hi, Mas Nes!” “Morning!” “Mornin’, Miz Marley!” I felt like a queen on the back of that donkey! Clippety-clop, clippety clop … Country people don’t just pass you, everybody we met said, “Howdy” or “How do you do?” And of course you had to reply: “Fine, thank you, ma’am!” or “God bless you, man.” Bob once spoke about that in an interview: He said he never minded what people said about him, because where he came from in St. Ann people always blessed him,