A POEM BY WILLIAM McKENZIE SEIVRIGHT (1901-1968)

William “Commodore” Seivright, was my uncle. He was the first mayor of Kingston, Jamaica, and in 1938 helped Norman Manley (the party leader and subsequent Prime Minister), Wills Isaacs, “Crab” Nethersole, Keeble Munn, Florizel Glasspole, and others form the PNP (Peoples National Party). In conjunction with the JLP (Jamaica Labour Party) headed by Alexander Bustamante, they introduced universal adult suffrage and the two party system in Jamaica. He served as a Minister of Government (Secretary of State) in successive PNP administrations. Oxford-Educated barrister, Norman Manley, was Uncle Com’s confidant and Prime Minister.

“I REMEMBER” – a poem about early Jamaica by WILLIAM SEIVRIGHT (1901 – 1968)

Christmas 1964

I remember the noisy, rocking tramcars
Sneaking their squeaky way –
Down long Marescaux Road.

I remember the patient, plodding lamp-lighter,
Armed with his long torch-pole,
Doing his evening round
Without complaint.

I remember the spiral clouds of filthy dust
Rising from Kingston’s unpaved streets,
In never ending swirls.

I remember the cumbersome, leaky water carts
Fighting their losing battle-royal
Against the sun, the wind and the earth.

I remember the horse-drawn fire brigade
Going full gallop to the sea;
With engine pumps a-belching,
And sparks from the horses feet.

I remember the dozens of snowball carts
(Selling ice cream and frisco as well)
Ablaze with kerosene lanterns,
And the enticing ring of their bell.

I remember when Kingston’s fuel was wood.
With donkey-carts all over the place
Vending at quattie a bundle,
Their loads which they sold with grace.

I remember the sound of the mid-day gun
That was fired at Camp each day.
But either the gun or the powder gave out,
So they shut  down the close of the fray.

I remember Miss Walker and Teacher,
Edith Barnett and Bag-and-Pan,
Come-on-a-Monday, and Bedward –
Rastas hadn’t yet formed their Clan.

I remember the old hackney carriages –
One-horse buses that plied their ware
Through Kingston’s heat and awful dust,
Seeking by chance a sixpenny fare.

I remember the streets that were covered with straw,
For someone they were trying to heal:
To deaden the beat of the horses’ feet,
And the sound of the iron-shod wheel.

I remember the caravans of market women
With their frocks tucked up at the waist,
Following their patient donkeys
That never seemed in haste.

I remember the cry of the chimney sweep,
With his sooty clothes and his bundle of brooms,
For our fuel was wood, and our chimneys were tall,
And this was no job for the grooms.

I remember the old time funerals.
Where there never was a smell of oil;
But a hundred horse-drawn vehicles
Shepherding a man from his toil.

I remember the sweets we used to eat,
Things that my son don’t know:
Accra and frisco and wangla,
Ducknnoo and “Bumps” in a row.

I remember the grand old Regiment,
That is coming back to its own –
The martial tread of Zouave clad men,
With their colours so proudly flown.

I remember the great symposium at early morn
From the throats of a thousand birds,
Sounding reveille for a new born day,
The cocks’ shrill clarion at dawn.
But of all the sights I shall never forget,
Was Kingston’s Race Course in bloom.
‘Twas a sight for the eye – now alas lost for aye,
And the loss of its glory brings gloom.
The bloom of constab macca had its day,
The march of time its course disrupts:
But in our day – in yellow carpet-form they lay,
A sea, a host of golden Buttercups;
Jamaican buttercup, constab or police macca,
Jamaican feverplant, puncture vine
also iconic flower of Jamaicans for Justice

To view this poem which is about early Jamaica, and comments by Morris Cargill, see: https://sites.google.com/site/moreinterestingjamaicans/william-seivwright