Many immigrant parents living in an alien environment find themselves from time to time having to answer questions from their children about life in their day.” I was no exception, so in response to such enquiries, I decided to explain to my young sons what life in Nevis was like for me during my boyhood days.” This poem was among a collection I composed back in the 1980s.” I came across them the other day. Ira Hanley Life was simple, oh! so simple then. We didn’t have much but I could not remember when Life was not contentment Growing up poor, but happy! There were chores to be done from early morn to setting sun; Nobody minded, nobody cared, for chores were fun, Just getting the work done! For nobody minded, nobody cared Growing up poor, but happy! There’s work to be done before school begun; Animals to attend, pens to mend, no time to be idle For school begins at nine And we must be there on time. The day began with exercises strenuous and strong Even though we”ve been walking all morning long. Morning devotions were long and pious Even bordering upon being arduous. But the singing was melodious With the descant soaring above the melody Yet everyone maintained perfect harmony. Some people may recall school days As being the happiest of their lives. I have no such pleasure, we were never allowed the leisure To enjoy learning for learning sake. It was peppered with sarcasm and abuse! And the Strap! Oh! the Strap! How it lashed out Humiliating, insulting, abusive “” Restrictive! Many of us managed to gain an education. How we obtained this is still under consideration! Above the fear and humiliation One recognizes that it was the only condition For mobility! And so silently, but resentfully we accepted Woefully! But the light at the tunnel far and distant Illumined our hopes for a brighter future! Many were fortunate to be smart A gift inculcated from the start. Through natural ability and a little luck Some moved ahead of the flock and stood above the crowd! The best part of the day was after the final song And the evening prayers that we say! Children rushed through the doors With “Whooping and Whistling and Screams” That could be heard a mile away. “Twas as if the prison doors released its prisoners Into freedom, if only for the night! And so for the first time since nine that day Children became once again children Free to learn through play. The walk home was cheery, playing games, just being merry! A snack I would eat, light, but refreshing, And off I would go to do my evening chores; The cows to be watered, the sheep to be pastured, And food to be gathered for the pigs! This was not work; it was fun Skipping rocks upon the water in the cool setting sun. Or frolicking with my dog as the cows drank From the cool refreshing pond. Dodging and teasing obnoxious cows on their way To be watered was dangerous, it’s true. But it sure was fun! There were berries to be had and fruits galore. Most to be eaten, the rest to store In a place safe and secure from intruding eyes Or prowling animals! Yes, life was contentment, Growing up poor, but happy! In the evening when chores are completed And the moon shines bright Casting long shadows into the night Boys gather from all around at the central spot Against a huge rock, warm and secure ” To listen to stories from young men Of jumbees and jack-o-lanterns, Or simply of stories young men tell; Lurid, obscene, but fascinating as well! On moonlit nights, boys and girls meet And gather in groups to” play hide and seek. But the best night of all Is when we put our strength and gall In daring races On home-built carts With iron wheels. Those were good days Growing up poor, but happy! Saturdays were the best That’s when young boys Were put to the test Against crashing waves And breaking surfs We all learned to swim. It was no big thing. No expensive lessons were necessary Nor scientific strokes to commit to memory ” ” But we splashed around And dived around And soon we swimming Strong and sound! This was pleasure, pure and simple. And though the sun beat down Unrelentingly upon our backs We only felt the need to relax On our way back home Tired, hungry, and often disillusioned For often our mission Of our trip to the beach To procure fish for the Sunday treat Was unfulfilled. And I would return home Empty! Sunday was the day of rest No chores to be done And all pleasures and fun Were frowned upon. The animals were to be fed, That much was allowed. But they were only to be tethered No feed to be fetched. Remember the Sabbath Day Keep it holy No words from the Bible Were accepted more truly! My Sunday clothes were starched and pressed My tie was straight My shoes were shined And I look my very best Going off to Mass With the rest! I still fondly remember The organ And the choir Singing their loud Hosanna. And the priest in solemn Procession Marched towards the altar. And when it’s time for Holy Communion How timid I was To march down the aisle. I loved the Church It was the centre of our lives. We held with great pride This great institution The focal of our socialization. After the Mass One hour, two, three It didn’t matter what time it may be. For the afternoon stretched into evening Long and lazy. Life was CONTENTMENT Growing up POOR, but HAPPY! ” In North American society Everyone talks about poverty. Poverty is not having a fridge Or a stove, or a t.v. or a car Or an annual vacation To some distance far. People do not know what it meant To grow up poor, but happy! Written by Ira B. Hanley
