Julia Hydes

Ms Julia Hydes turned 100 on 25th January. At her Boggy Sand Road home, her infectious joy and mirth spring from an inner well that never runs dry. Her positive personality never wanes. Songs she’d made up years ago, she still sings while beating her drum…‘Munzie Boat in the Sound’, ‘Cardile gone Cuba’ and ‘You’ve to wait till my ship comes in’. Surrounded by balloons and well-wishers, Ms Julia shares her joyful stories.

She begins: “Everyone was scared of duppies [ghosts]. I’d never seen any, heard enough ‘bout ‘em. I remember telling one scared little boy: “Locki” [Loxley Banks] — If you ever see one, run! If you fall down, don’t even stop to get up! Keep running!”

Everyone roars in laughter. She adds:

“One midnight I left to fetch some turtle meat. You’d to be there by 4:00 am, else it wouldn’t be any left. As I passed the graveyard, I saw something standing atop a grave. I jumped so high my pudding pan went one way; my money another, and I ran all the way home! My hands and feet were shaking! I told the butcher later; he gave me turtle meat without payment.

“When I grew up Cayman was poor, poor, poor…. My momma and I were as poor as Job’s turkey, that never had a feather on its back! Boggy Sand Road was covered in seagrape trees. No houses sat on this landscape except #74, which was owned by my husband’s grandfather…it’s twice the age of me! Its wooden shingles are still on!

“I remember playing with my friend, Rebecca, on the beach on a Monday in November. We’d gone to pick seagrapes. Papa had died that Sunday —he’d had a long illness. Momma came down to the beach telling me: ‘Hurry come bathe, you’ve gotta go to your father’s funeral.’

“I told my friend I’d better go straightaway, or I’d get a beating. Then we looked up and seen a two-masted schooner skimming along the ironshore coming closer.

It was a “Jackass rig”…one mast smaller than the other…Caymanians had nicknames for different types of boats.

“I said to Rebecca: ‘They’re bringing good news!’

She said: ‘How ya know?’

“I answered: ‘Can’t you see? Two flags flying, and they’re in a big hurry!’

“I said: ‘Let’s ask!’

“Soon as it came abreast to where we were on the ironshore, I yelled: ‘Wha deh news unna bringing?’
“And one man on board yelled: ‘War’s over!’ Four long years, we’d heard about the terrible war! [World War I]. I said to Rebecca: ‘See! Told you they’d good news!’

“At my father’s funeral, everyone cried. It finally hit me, then I started crying. A very old white lady named Ejanna picked me up and held me. My younger brother, Hubert, was four; I was going on nine; my other siblings were older, I was next to the last of 12.

“The West Bay brothers Kivey and Hewel Yates returned from war. Good-looking men! Britain sent them back with high commendations, asking they be put into good jobs.

“Kivey went to California and lived there until his passing. But Hewel stayed, becoming a Police Sergeant. One morning Hewel shot his brains out with a revolver. We heard that he’d gone through so much that life didn’t mean anything anymore—he couldn’t forget all he’d lived through and had seen in that war.

“I’d a teacher named Redley Powery; she was spiteful! She could teach, but oh…she’d beat! She’d bite her lip when she’d come down on top of you with that old strap!

“When I was 12, my brothers left for Moskito Keys turtling, a sister went to Havana. That left me pretty much in charge of momma and Hubert. My girlfriends liked going along the beach chatting, joking, laughing, swapping stories. One day I walked up to them saying: ‘I can’t keep company with ya’ll anymore. I’ve to go paddle my own canoe. Ya’ll have it easier than me, somebody takes care of you, I’ve gotta go help my momma out.’

“I gave up school, fished, looked for crabs and welks; brought them back to cook for us and to sell. I sold 12 crabs for a shilling.

“The crabs were fat! Full of eggs! I’d also fish for nurse sharks like others. We’d hang their skins out to dry, then the schooner Adams took them to Key West, where they were sold to a leather company to make bags and shoes. In exchange, I’d get a few groceries. I’d walk from the Turtle Farm area via the beach to behind Meringue Town where a large thatch patch grew. I’d cut thatch tops, bring them back, make rope and sell it. In those days, beaches were covered in burs and cockspur was everywhere!

“I’d husk coconuts, make fish dinners and heavy-cakes, made of cassava, yams or corn. Coconut milk went into everything. I’d boil it down into oil to fry fish in. We cooked everything on caboose…sweetest dinners in the world!

“And nothing scrubbed wood floors cleaner than bugage (trigger) fish hides. I’d lay them in the sun, in a few days they’d be stiff— then I’d scrub! To get our clothes white, I’d scrape ashes out of the caboose, put them in water overnight in a big round tin tub. Next day, the water was slimy. I’d light a fire and “cook” our clothes – bringing it to a boil, stirring. Nothing got clothes whiter, cleaner, or softer! I’d use flour sacks to make clothes. We worked hard, achieved little. I’d help my mother any way I could. We were poor as lice...but we pulled through. One good thing…everyone lived loving. If they heard you were sick, they’d come with food, tend to you and help you out.

“Growing up was hard but fun. Christmas and weddings were big…three days and nights of kitchen dances! We’d get wore out dancing.

“Duxy and Montgomery Ebanks and Joshua Hydes, those the fiddlers…they’d play their violins! People cooked turtle, conchs, welks, fish, and breadkind—and the prettiest cakes in the world! Each wedding had over 30 cakes. A preacher from England, named Blackman, married everyone—he’d be last to show up. You’d see him coming on his black horse from a distance, everyone would say: ‘Shhh…Shhh…He’s coming now! Preacher coming down!’

“He was very handsome…but oh…proud! His wife too! He’d ride straight-backed on his horse, always with an umbrella. As he’d dismount, that umbrella swung right back over his head. But, what a sermon he’d preach over you! Sounded so good and sweet! If everyone lived right, their marriage should’ve lasted because he said enough over you! He’d like his cake and milk, then he’d leave…then the party would start! He died many years later; and buried here in Cayman.

“At Christmas everyone hauled clean sand to their yards, and then raked it with rosemary brooms. Our yards were beautiful! They’d have parties past New Year’s. I was 14 and excited. Then, two days before Christmas Day…a huge West Bay policeman, Biddie Bush, killed his pregnant wife by hitting her in the head with a baton.

“In those days, police carried heavy batons called “mottles” which they’d make from Cayman ironwood or fiddlewood. The young wife lay punishing for days—the doctor couldn’t save her or her baby. People had complained for years that he’d stolen their breadkind, destroyed their grounds, and that police harbored what he did.

“Days later, I went to the court case. The jury foreman, my uncle Abraham Ebanks, came out stating: ‘He shall be hung till he’s dead, dead, dead!’

Biddie hung his head; his mother walked up saying something to him, he whirled around: ‘Momma move! I blame you for all this!’ Days later, he was sent to Jamaica and hung. People started seeing his ghost here, even at daytime. All were frightened. As I’d get my work done, I’d run inside, lock up doors and windows. No parties for a long time. What a Christmas that was!

“I was 25 when I met Cardile Hydes, he was 27. Although we both lived West Bay, I at Turtle Farm, he at Boggy Sand, we’d never met. I liked the way he looked, walked, talked. He was so quick and intelligent! We both loved to joke! I fell in love! We were the last Preacher Blackman married before he passed.

“There was no hospital, so midwives Geraldine Grant and Evy Evans came to tend to you at home. They’d sit with you for nine days, wouldn’t let you out of bed. They’d fix you up to the finish! Bring food, care for you, wouldn’t let you move an inch, so afraid you’d hemorrhage.

“Cardile tried finding work in Cayman so he wouldn’t have to return to sea. He’d unload vessels coming into George Town, those few dollars helped…we were so poor. He then went to Trinidad for four years, working at a US military base there during World War II. I made and sold thatch rope to provide for our children.

“Two of my brothers, Samuel and Reginald, were aboard Majestic, a Cayman schooner that went down in a hurricane in Moskito Keys. The sinking claimed 27 souls…mostly from West Bay. Mr Bertie, Mr Ernest Panton and Mr Roddy Watler came to my mother’s home to break the news. It nearly killed us! I thought momma would die! What a mess we were in. Mr Bertie kept biting his lip, trying not to cry. I’d stay nights with momma. I’d wake, hear her crying, fall back asleep, wake and still she’d be crying. I took her to live with me. I loved her so! She was 85 when she passed. Hubert and I were left; then he passed. Maybe that’s why I’ve lived so long! I followed the commandment: ‘Honor thy mother.’

“Cardile returned from Trinidad, but soon he walked out leaving me with our children for a George Town woman. My last was just a year old. I’d to paddle my own canoe again. I’d earn a living by chopping grasspieces, playing drums at kitchen dances all over the island for a few shillings with Radley Gorzoung.

“And I’d wake at 4:00 am to gather gravel along the beaches into piles, which could be used for building houses. At mid-day, I’d go home, cook food for when the children came from school, and then I’d return to the beach until dark. An old truck came weekly to gather my gravel piles.

“Lewisito was the only unruly one. Bad little fella! He loved fishing, hated school! I’d think he’d be in school; but he’d be fishing! He’d hide in the seagrapes, as children crossed from school, he’d join them coming home. I never knew this, until his teacher said he wasn’t showing up. I’d find him fishing and switch him with a seagrape limb. But more I’d beat, the more he’d scheme. Wasn’t no good beating him, so I said I wasn’t fooling with him no more.

“I don’t know how come sharks never ate him! He was always in the sea! One day, he should’ve been at school, Miss Izzy [Jimmy Powell’s aunt] who’d a store [beside Four Winds Esso], spotted him surfboarding on his belly in a Nor’wester. She saw a shark’s “cobbleknife” rise up behind him, so she tore out of her store screaming, waving her arms. He made sure and stayed on that board till that wave deposited him ashore! That shark almost got him!

“As it got dark, we’d carry smokepans. Mosquitoes were so thick they’d suffocate cows and chickens! I’d gone to Lower Valley picking mangoes with friends and noticed two cows lying dead. I walked up close; their nostrils were packed with mosquitoes. I said to a friend. ‘If we don’t hurry and get relief from these mosquitoes, we’re gonna soon drop too!’

“God Bless Dr. Giglioni! He came to Cayman and rescued us! I still recall conversations he’d had with my son Lewisito when he came to West Bay. They hit it off so well, soon Lewisito worked with him to eradicate mosquitoes. And that’s how Lewisito got the name ‘Lewie the Bug Man.’”

Miss Julia ends: “The Lord got me through it all! He’s a merciful and loving Lord! He’ll pull you through!”