Fair warning, this could get weird. A few weeks ago, while I was in Portland, I came across a small group of people huddled together in conversation near the section of the Rio Grande where visitors often start their rafting expedition. It had rained quite a bit hours earlier, so the roads were still drenched and some of the people in the group were standing in ankle-high water. I stopped by the side of the road to find out what was going on.

"Yuh nuh see seh Milton nuh have nuh sense? Yuh can listen him?" said a woman holding an umbrella. There were about eight people standing there, all with looks of great concern. The woman who was speaking was wearing a house dress and now muddy fluffy slippers.

She continued to speak while I tapped a young woman next to me on the shoulder. The woman, perhaps 18 or 19 years old, whirled around. I asked her what was happening. She looked me over before responding.

"Nuh Milton, man. Him claim seh him see mermaid inna di water. Now dem ah seh him tan up outa road and ah tell di people dem seh dem nuh fi go inna di water for mermaid inna it," she said.

The dirty look

I chuckled at the news but the young woman, who later told me her name was Latoya, was not amused. As she explained it, many of the people who live on the banks of the Rio Grande make a living by taking visitors rafting, for a tip. So if Milton was trying to stop people from going rafting, he essentially was endangering their very means of survival. The dirty look Latoya gave me as I chuckled sobered me up quite quickly and I again listened in on the conversation that was going on.

"We fi put him inna one barrel and roll him down di hill mek him tan down deh. Milton himself used to deal wid di rafting and now him tun inna idiot," said a short, thick man, who, for some reason, was wearing a pair of goggles on his forehead.

Again I felt a chuckle coming on. I decided to stifle it quickly, lest the mob turn their fury in my direction and put me in the barrel with Milton. I silently stepped away from the crowd.

Intent on finding the much-maligned Milton to hear his side of the story, I journeyed along the banks of the river, where an old man in a Michael Jackson T-shirt had told me I would find him.

After making several wrong stops, I finally found the home of the mermaid spotter.

It was a woman who answered my call at the door.

"Hello, please?" she said. She was little more than five feet tall and was wearing waterboots and holding a mop. I told her the reason for my visit. She seemed most displeased.

It turns out that the woman is Eunice, wife of Milton. After spending quite some time sizing me up, the woman finally opened up and explained what was happening. She said that she had, that very morning, sent Milton into hiding after hearing from the community wholesale operator that her neighbours were planning to hunt her husband down.

"Mi caan tell yuh weh him deh. Just know seh dem nah go find him. Dem people too outa order!" she said, shaking dust from the mop.

I asked her if she believed Milton had actually seen a mermaid in the water.

"Look here, man. If Milton seh him see mermaid, him see mermaid. Him nuh tell lie and di people dem know dat too. Dem never hear bout river mumma? All mi know is dat dem ah go sorry dem never listen when Milton did ah warn dem," she said.

robert.lalah@gleanerjm.com

Tourists raft down the Rio Grande in Portland. - file photos