In delving into the vibrant tapestry of Jamaica’s cultural and economic landscape, my recent journey to Coronation Market in the heart of downtown Kingston—lovingly known as “Curnashan Mawkit” or “Duppy Market” by locals—unveiled profound insights that resonated with my own life experiences. As a country boy from the lush hills of St. Mary, my ties to Kingston run deep, intricately woven by my mother’s indomitable spirit.
During the transformative years of the 1960s and 1970s, she emerged as a trailblazing Northeastern higgler—though at that time, the very term was hardly recognized. A higgler is an itinerant trader, traveling from place to place to sell goods. My mother was not only a pioneer but also highly respected and successful in her entrepreneurial pursuits. Her business took her to Boscobel, Stewart Town, Three Hills, Charles Town, Ocho Rios, and other districts across St. Mary and St. Ann.
Armed with her trusted “dulcimina suitcase,” she navigated the market scene with tenacity and grace, cultivating a thriving business that enabled her to purchase three vehicles within an impressive span of eight years and, by the late 1970s, secure a spacious six-bedroom home—a testament to her entrepreneurial spirit.
While the setting has changed, I find striking similarities between her journey and the dynamic vendors at Curnashan Mawkit, who hustle daily under the colorful awnings of the market. Each stall, brimming with fresh produce, spices, and handmade goods, echoes the same determination and ingenuity that characterized my mother’s quest for a better life. Their shared resilience and resourcefulness paint a vivid picture of the unyielding spirit that defines Jamaica’s marketplaces.
Growing up, I vividly recall accompanying my mother on expeditions to downtown Kingston, specifically King Street’s buzzing shopping area. We would leave Oracabessa on public transportation—Victor and Mailbus services or Mr. Piggy Transit minibuses—and navigate the bustling streets in search of the best products for resale. Shopping ended around 4 p.m., and we would walk to West Street, where we waited for the ride home to St. Mary.
For years, I believed I had explored Curnashan Mawkit on a previous shopping trip, but upon my recent visit, I realized I had never truly experienced this bustling marketplace. The energy felt both unfamiliar and nostalgic, mirroring the vibrance it must have had fifty years ago.
Yet, as we approached, my mind raced with unsettling tales of gang violence and danger. Anxiety gripped me—I imagined being yanked from my car at gunpoint. I kept my windows tightly shut and my doors locked. The single-lane roads, congested with vendors, shoppers, and vehicles, only heightened my frustration. I recalled past drives through the area, anxiously rushing to the airport, trapped in inescapable gridlock, fearing I’d miss my flight.
But Thursday’s visit proved to be a transformative experience. Accompanied by a friend who frequents the market, I gradually let go of my fears. The driver, unfazed by my apprehension, pointed out the parking area nestled within the Tivoli neighborhood. “Tivoli?” I questioned, surprised. “What are we doing in Tivoli?” He reassured me with a confident smile, declaring the area relatively crime-free. His calm demeanor was contagious, easing my anxiety.
As we walked, he captivated me with a rich history of Coronation Market, tracing its origins from the harrowing days of slavery to emancipation. His storytelling not only quelled my fears but ignited my academic curiosity. Beneath the surface of the market lies a profound history—a silent testament to the struggles of enslaved individuals who suffered during the transatlantic trade. Yet, during my visit, there were no visible reminders of such tragedy. Instead, I was enveloped in an atmosphere brimming with life, resilience, and commerce.
The market was a feast for the senses—spices wafting through the air, hearty yams stacked like golden treasures, sun-kissed coconuts beckoning with their refreshing promise. Vendors called out their prices in playful riddles: “One pound five shillings fi pine!” I inquired about the phrase’s meaning, only to be met with a shrug. “I don’t know, ask my dad,” a vendor’s daughter responded, gesturing to her grinning father.
As I sampled sweet bananas that melted in my mouth and sipped refreshing jelly coconuts, I watched my friends eagerly fill their bags with groceries. The sheer volume—nearly ten bags—underscored the market’s role as a vital hub of cultural and culinary exchange.
As I navigated Curnashan Mawkit, my perspective shifted. The colors, aromas, and vibrant energy shattered my previous apprehensions and deepened my appreciation for the strength and spirit of Jamaica’s community markets. The sheer expanse of the market, alive with sellers hawking their wares and shoppers weaving through crowded aisles, was unlike anything else on the island.
Now, I look forward to returning—not just for myself, but to share this cultural gem with friends from the diaspora, who I know would savor the experience as richly as I did.
As I reflect on my visit, I realize how seamlessly it aligns with the themes of my forthcoming book, From Shadows to Sunshine: The Story of My Childhood. My journey through Coronation Market was more than a shopping trip—it was a rediscovery of resilience, history, and the enduring entrepreneurial spirit that continues to shape Jamaica’s landscape.
