Listen, oh listen, can you hear...?

Aug. 21.22.

Sunday morning, good-good morning, and you lucky if de grasscutter man ain’t scraping you’ earsdrum with they grass cutting equipment.

As for Sunday nights. Once upon a time, in the early 2000s, those living near the seawall dreaded Sunday nights. The glass on the windows of their homes would vibrate with the music from the sound systems set up by the crowds hanging out on the seawall. The police did nothing. Fortunately, all that came to an end.

Recently, I’ve seen in the news that they gon do something about Noise Nuisance now. We hope and pray.

Sunday morning, I got a friend who does pray.

Pray that on this blessed day the rum-shop people down the street won’t blast songs all day and night.

Noise in some parts of our lovely native land is actually worse than nuisance. It should be called abuse. If you live near a rum-shop, if you have neighbours who feel it is their exclusive right to invade your home with their version of music, life can be hell at nights, from Friday to Sunday.

Fortunately, noise abuse doesn’t occur every day or everywhere.

Most nights, you will hear crickets.

That’s it. Only crickets.

A friend, who up to last year lived a little out of town, said that at 19 hours on the dot…7 p.m…all sounds shut down. The silence was absolute. She’s moved to a new village now, closer to town. Is quiet ‘round de clock, she says.

Most days, depending on where you live, you will hear:

cows

rooster

cars zooming by on the main road

truck horn

rain on the zinc roof

wheels swishing on wet road

rain pattering on the leaves of trees

neighbours squabbling in the distance

neighbour next door and his wife quarrelling

school children playing in the school yard

a mad dog barking

the ocean booming against the seawall

kiskadees chirping kisskakeeeee

chicken hawk squreeeeelling

parrots…don’t ever forget the parrots, soon o’ clock o’ morning…parrots

singing-engine kites that kite-flyers have tied to a tree or a post during kite flying season

the wind whistling tweeeeeeee February, March, April.

Best sound of all is the one we mostly never hear, the sound that streams through the grrrr and the raaah of daily living.

To hear, you must get outdoors, or sit on the platform outside your front door, or stretch out in your hammock.

Listen.

It is the sound of your little holiday. You don’t need to fly miles to a foreign land to experience it, unless you live in a desert, but I am sure that in the desert there is another sound that is just as wonderful. It is as delicious as any nutritious food you could ever cook. In fact, it is food for your spirit. It’s a sound that’s not only for the wealthy. It’s for the poor, the humble, the aching, hungry soul too.

It’s the sound of the trees rustling in a light breeze.

If you listen, you will know.

Have a lovely Sunday.

Nuff lurve, neena.