Miss Sylvia in Mount Zion, St Andrew. - photos by Robert Lalah

The road to Mount Zion is long and full of potholes. Of course, I had heard this many times, but never actually took it literally.

Anyway, it was on an overcast afternoon last week that I found myself ascending the mountain with the weighty name in rural St Andrew. Driving is pretty much out of the question, given the steep slope and open craters along the way, so I was lumbering my way up the mountain all alone when I met Miss Sylvia, a middle-aged housewife going in the opposite direction.

"Hold up yuh head, young bwoy, yuh soon meck it! Tee hee!" said she. It was alarming, and quite disheartening to see the woman move with such ease, particularly because I was experiencing great difficulty myself.

I managed to flash a half-smile and stopped to say hello.

"How yuh do, child? Is first I seeing you in these parts," Miss Sylvia said, smiling.

I confirmed it was my first time there and asked Miss Sylvia if she lived in the area.

"Yes, man, if yuh go right up yuh will see mi house. I just going inna town fi a likkle while and come back. So what you doing here, please?" she asked.

I told the woman I was simply passing through the area when I saw a sign with the mountain's name. Curiosity had driven me to see what was at the top. I mean, it's Mount Zion, for crying out loud, the place Bob Marley said Jah sitteth! Anyway, Miss Sylvia chuckled at my apparent fascination and went on to tell me about life on Mount Zion.

"Is mostly farming di people dem from around here do. Is dry time now so tings kinda slow," said she.

"We grow like yam and so on. My husband used to grow yam too, but from di last storm blow, everyting mash up."

'Not a blazing ting!'

I asked her what her husband had been doing since then. "Not a blazing ting! Have mi excuse, but him nuh do nothing. Anyway, meck mi nuh get inna dat now," Miss Sylvia said.

I told her I was interested in finding out more about the people who live on Mount Zion and she suggested I go see Ras Shilo, a reclusive Rastafarian who lived at a small wooden house at the very top of the mountain.

"So yuh will get what you want there. I gone leave yuh now. Tek care," said Miss Sylvia before walking away.

I continued my climb for another five minutes before coming across a red, green and black wooden building in the midst of nothing but bushes. There was no other house around, the place was silent and I began wondering if this was such a good idea. I mean, the man was a recluse for a reason. What if he didn't feel like having company?

At that moment, a window flew open and a dreadlocked man poked his head outside. "Selassie I!" he shouted.

I didn't know what to say, so as is often my plan of action when faced with impending doom, I was about to take off. Fortunately, the man poking his head out the window continued: "Ah who dat? Hold on deh, I coming out," he said.

Greetings from ras shilo

A few seconds later he was walking my way, dressed in nothing but a pair of green jeans pants and sandals. He was about six feet tall and his locks fell close to his waist.

"Greetings I," said he. I said hello and told the man who I was and that I was merely trying to find out about Mount Zion.

"Ah Jah send yuh come, man. No accident nuh happen. Di I arrive so dat I can impart Selassie I teachings at dis time," said Ras Shilo.

"Er ... huh?" I muttered.

"Have a seat, man," he said. Not wanting to give the impression I intended to stay a while, I politely declined and asked Ras Shilo what it was like living on Mount Zion.

"Well dis is a blessed place. Dis place is mention in all manner of scripture," said he.

I asked, almost without expecting a response, if he realised that this was not the actual Mount Zion of religious fame.

"Seh wah? Don't mek Babylon come fool up yuh head!" he said, emphatically. "Dem want yuh fi believe seh nothing good caan come outa Jamaica, but dat is a wicked lie! Mount Zion is not a place. Is a state of consciousness, so if dis place name Mount Zion, den nobody can tell I dat is not di same Mount Zion weh I read bout inna I Bible," said Ras Shilo.

He went on to say more, much more but I heard very little of it because I was so consumed with trying to find a way to explain why I had to leave. I eagerly awaited a break in the man's diatribe, but it came no time soon. He rambled on, and on and on, at one point even lamenting the pitfalls of capitalism. It was only when I heard him say, "Yuh overstand wah I ah seh?" that I realised it was time to make my move. I pretended I had suddenly remembered a previous appointment I was already late for and that I had to leave immediately or face irreparable consequences.

"Yuh haffi leave already? But I not even start relate di true teachings of His Majesty yet," said he. But he was too late, by then I was already well on my way downhill with absolutely no intention of stopping for anything or anyone.

robert.lalah@gleanerjm.com