Jamaica

All over the world, one word that is more universal than love is Granny or Grandmother.

Although, Jamaican Grandmothers are notorious for being involved in their Grandchildrens’ lives beyond the call of duty.

My Granny was no exception to the rule, she was always filled with advice and seemed to have a natural ability to decipher what you were feeling or thinking. Whenever I felt ambivalent about confiding in anyone, my Granny was always my choice for a conversationalist because she never judged. She always listened with an attentive ear and then gave you one of her old fashioned sayings, like ”What would God do in a similar situation?”

Simple, but very thought provoking. I remember going through a teenage phase where I wanted to get a tatoo. After wearing the artificial ones, it just seemed like a natural progression for me to undertake getting a real one. I must admit, that I never really thought about the painful process of receiving a tatoo, instead I thought of the end result, which would have been the glorious picture of a rose.

Most teenagers shy way from sharing this type of information with their parents for fear of being scolded or reprimanded. Therefore, the only person I felt comfortable discussing this matter with, was my Granny.

I called her up one day and said, “Granny, I’m thinking about getting a tatoo.”

She commented, “What’s that?”

I laughed for a second, “Granny, you don’t know what a tatoo is?”

“No, Magsie, what is it?”

“Granny a tatoo is a pretty picture that you wear on your body.”

“Oh, that’s sounds nice, is it like a t-shirt?”

I started becoming a bit nervous about telling her the details, “Well, it’s actually engrained in your skin, with die and stuff.”

“Stuff, eh?” Granny commented.

“What about those pictures you always paste on your arm, that’s nice. Why not keep doing that?”

I didn’t know if I should have continued my conversation with her because it didn’t seem to be going very well.

“Granny, this won’t wash off as easily and its sort of a fashion statement.”

Granny laughed, “Is fashion did kill Ms. Marple’s puss. Just remember that.”

I had a puzzled look on my face, “Granny…..Who is Ms. Marple?”

“Oh this lady in Jamaica, her cat went chasing after her lovely felt hat down the road, and got run over by the push cart man. Tsk..tsk..tsk…It was such a sad story. Poor Ms. Marple never recovered.”

Great, now my Granny had managed to really escalate the situation to a dangerous undertaking.

Granny urged me, “If I were you Mags I would get all the information I can find about this tatoo situation and then make a decision. I‘m glad you told me about this. You know Mags, you are never too old to confide in Granny.”

Her idea made sense. So. I scampered off to the nearest library to read all the facts I could find. After indulging myself in several books, I became a tad apprehensive about my thoughts of getting a tattoo. It involved needles, dye, and if the place was not reputable or clean. It meant the possibility of a disease. Yikes!!!

Again Granny was trying to show me the right path. However, most teenagers are usually overcome by their own impressions of the world. The beauty of having a tatoo seemed more alluring than making a good, sound judgement.

I looked for a reputable place to get my tatoo done and then called my Granny and told her. I said, “Guess what Granny?”

“Is this about the tatoo ?” she replied.

“Sort of. A-c-t-u-a-l-l-y, I’m going to get it done tomorrow.”

“Hmmm…..as soon as tomorrow. You know Mags, I have been doing some reading, that tatoo thing is not as easy as it seems. They use HUGE needles, the needle could be dirty, you could get an infection or you could even have an allergic reaction to the dye. Am I making sense here?”

“Yes granny, everything you are saying make sense, but that is in extreme cases and I have been very thorough with my research.”

“Sure you have, so where is this place and what is it called?”

“Granny, I don’t think you know where this place is, it is called the Gaallawallah Tatoo Shoppe, it’s in the mall somewhere.”

“Very Lovely Mags. Let me know how it goes. Just remember if you ever saw God wearing a tatoo.” Granny ended the phonecall.

Her sense of calm, mixed with guilt, made me more anxious and suspicious. I started wondering if I was about to make the right choice, but I felt it was too late for me to withdraw from my plans.

During the teenage years, children are unaware of fear, they always think that they can outsmart events and that negative things cannot happen to them.

On Tatoo Day, I was as nervous as a butterfly. The only person who knew about my endeavor was my Granny. When it came to secrets my Granny was like the FBI. I tried calling her that morning for Good Luck, but it seemed as if she had gone off on a mission somewhere.

I got to the Tatoo parlour and sat down waiting patiently for my turn. While there, I saw other teenage girls getting their tatoos, grimacing and shrieking with pain. One girl, came in and commented that her hand was sore even after two weeks of getting her tatoo. Bells rang in my head. I remembered what my Granny was saying to me on the phone, but somehow I just couldn’t bring myself to backing out.

So when my name was called, I went like a nervous soldier being lead to the electric chair. I took one look at the needle, the ecoutrements and wanted out of there. The Shopkeeper seemed “put-off” by my renegging on our agreement and demanded payment anyway. Whether or not I was getting tatoo. That’s when I heard a feeble, yet familiar voice.

“Excuse me young lady, but have you seen a teenage girl about 4 feet high, nervous and overzealous about getting a tatoo?”

“Oh yes, Madam, she’s right this way.”

Was I glad to see Granny. She showed up in the nick of time. While the Tatoo Maker and the Shopkeeper were hassling me for changing my mind. Granny just stepped in and handled the situation.

As usual she came with reinforcements. Granny enlisted the help of her Ambulette Drivers as well as their EMT friends. Just in case there was a slip of the old needle.

Granny remarked, “With any kind of piercing of the skin, anything can go wrong. It’s better to be safe than sorry.”

Granny continued to explain to the Store Personnell,that I had a brief moment of Teenage Mania and that I cannot be held accountable for my decisions, it was the hormones taking over. So with that said, Granny, me and the EMT’S left out of the parlour in a hurry. Just in case I changed my mind.

That’s the thing with teenage years, teenagers have more ideas than Albert Einstein ever did. Each idea changes like the wind, so you just never know where their minds are being focused.

Although, I thought my Granny was not concentrating on my insignificant decisions, it turned out that she heard every word I said and was determined to stop me from making a blithering idiot out of myself.

Granny summed up the situation by saying, “One day you will thank me for this, Tatoos are like jewelery, one day you may want to wear them, one day you may not. What then? Are you going to cover your skin with pieces of cloth to hide them?”

“Them Granny?”

“Yes, them. Because you children, once you start, you can’t stop! Society still has social stigmas on certain things. So, try to make your life as less complicated as possible.”

I have always said, that my Granny was just an old-fashioned lady but she knew more about people and life than she lead on most of the time.

Today I can say I do not miss the absence of a tatoo and each time I think of that fateful day…..I could only attribute it to bouncing mi head somewhere.

Thank goodness for those, nosy, little, old, Grandmothers !

They are like Lighthouses always guiding us away from life’s storms.