On my first trip to JA, Irie was one of the first Jamaicans I met. He was renting sea beds and selling jewelry on the beach near Gloria's Sunset. He made me my all time favorite necklace out of small bamboo and rasta color beads. We spent many hours "reasoning" over my many trips. The past two trips I couldn't find him.
This trip I saw Alvin and he told me Irie had had to have his leg amputated and is in the "poor house" in Lucea. I was sickened to hear this news and was determined to find him and check on him. Sophie helped me track down where the "poor house" was in Lucea and when Richie and I took Sophie and Smokey to the airport we tracked him down. (We also found that we should never refer to it as the "poor house" but call it the infirmary. Lesson learned.)
I was pleasantly surprised at how he was. He's still the same smiling, upbeat, interesting fellow he always has been. We spent some time with him and then went to the store to get him a few grocery items and I found a couple of books for him. (Those that know him, know books are his most loved things.)
I wanted to post this so that those that know him might stop and say hello on your way to or from Negril. He'll be 82 next week and he doesn't know if his sister will make it from Guyana to be with him. I know he'd love to see some friendly faces.