A Tale from Jamaica - Re-told by Cardinale Montano with illustrations and photos by Becky James

At the top of a hill stood a neat little house with a roof of tin

and walls of wood, set tight around a polished door

and a few small windows.

It was here lived sister Michelle - and beautiful she was -

and she lived alone

in the neat little house, of wood and tin. 

From her house she could see - on a higher hill which rose

behind the hill on which she lived-

a Breadfruit Tree.

A great and towering tree it was, the branches thick

with leaves of glossy green as big as two grown hands

or maybe

three grown hands put together,

and underneath the leaves, thick globes of fruit still brighter green,

there hanging.

It was that tree in which he lived; good brother Woodpecker,

with his scarlet crest bright, bright, between the leaves

of glossy green from which he looked,

with black and shining eyes upon the hill below,

to the little house of tin and wood.

And over time his heart did beat with love

for beautiful sister Michelle, until,

one day his love grew strong and strong, so that it lifted up his wings.

Down, down, he flew, and told her of his love and of his heart -

so full - and then confessed,

from all that love which over-filled his heart,

his deepest wish; to marry her.

But, oh - she turned, and oh!

She walked away,

her long, black, braid set swinging from the turn

between the blades of shoulders,

set, and proud.

Heavy his heart, and tears so thick his wings

could lift him just so far as to a tree, beyond the house

of beautiful, sister Michelle.

There he sat upon a branch and from that branch,

with scarlet crest bowed down,

brother Woodpecker flew no further.

It was then, as he sat, that he heard

between the beat, beat, beat, of his broken heart

a car

come slowly up the narrow road, and up

it wound, and up - until it reached her house, and there,

it stopped.

The man was tall when he stood from the car,

and his stride was big and smooth, beneath a new, white, hat.

As he brushed specks of dust from his shirt,

his fingers, long.

And he walked to the door and knock, knock, knocked. 

She opened the door, the beautiful sister Michelle, and,

“Ah, it is true!”,

brother Woodpecker heard him say,

the man with the hat.

“You are as beautiful as I was told, and more than even I believed,

when I was told.”

And he asked, then, if she would come and walk with him on the beach,

and

she said,

‘yes’.

Night had fallen.

Brother Woodpecker watched from the branch, his tears

no more, his eyes, sharp, sharp,

as she walked with the man to the car.

There, as they walked, brother Woodpecker saw in the moonlight

but one shadow cast across the ground -

and it was the shadow of sister Michelle,

for the man

had none.

He was a man without a shadow,

a no-good spirit,

a ghost -

a duppy man.

Now

down, down,

down along the twists of the winding road

with all his might brother Woodpecker flew as quickly as he could,

behind them.

All the long way down to where they walked,

then, through the Gully, thick

with ferns and sounds of night, to the edge

of the sea

where the man then said to sister Michelle,

‘Take off your shoes, your hat, your pretty things, and put them

in the sand

where the salt-tide washes up on the shore;

there,

where the sea can take them.’

Now she felt a fear,

a fear which ran sharp from her heart,

through her bones, to her skin and, oh!

That fear was wrapped around her tight, so that

she could not move.

Down, down, flew brother Woodpecker, down,

in a blur of brown and white and red

and three times flew around her, where she stood.

Now

she felt her body change in shape

and feathers, where there once was skin

and a strong bill formed where her lips once were,

and her arms

became wings

and with those wings she flew, transformed.

Sister Woodpecker now, behind brother Woodpecker flew,

up, up, and up,

above the winding road, and over the neat little house of tin and wood,

to the Breadfruit tree.

There - high and safe in the arms of the tree,

within the leaves of glossy green,

Brother Woodpecker spoke.

‘You can go back to your house of tin and wood, in the shape

of sister Michelle.

This you can choose to do - this, I can do for you.

Or,

you can marry me and you will stay as you are now

with feathers, wings, and strong brown bill -

forever

here,

with me.

This you can also choose, this I can do for you.’

And now she looked on him and saw

for the first time

all goodness which was him

and shone so bright,

that feathers were no more - nor crest, nor bill, nor wings

but only that

which was the light within, that light

which shines

from a heart that is true

which was - and had been

always -

brother Woodpecker.

She stayed. 

Many eggs were laid, over time,

and from these hatched many children.

And these children grew and burrowed out new nests,

in the trees of the forest of the Breadfruit tree

and so it went,

with their children’s children.

Those, you can hear today,

their words

the sharp, drumming, sounds

ringing in echoes through the woods-

telling over and over again,

the love story

of their grandparents.

Thank you for your visit and we hope you enjoyed the tale. The short video below is Becky talking about her illustration and how she did it and the materials she used.

If you loved the artwork used in this tale, you might like to see the ‘Little Shop’ where I have some small prints available to buy.