The Coconut Counting Man serves as a rhythmic exploration of the daily journey undertaken by a Trinidadian coconut vendor from the rural landscapes of Mayaro to the urban centre of the Queen’s Park Savannah. This poem by Marc Algernon captures the essence of local entrepreneurship, highlighting the physical labour and logistical dedication required to bring agricultural products to the city market.
It provides a vivid description of the vendor’s routine, involving the harvesting of coconuts with his son, the transit through inclement weather, and the eventual sale to diverse crowds in Port-of-Spain.
The narrative is distinct for its focus on the “coconut counting man” as an apolitical figure defined by work ethic and familial duty rather than party affiliation.
Key Takeaways
- The Coconut Counting Man depicts the arduous physical process of harvesting and transporting coconuts across Trinidad.
- Marc Algernon uses rhythmic verse to celebrate the dignity of independent labour and traditional Caribbean livelihoods.
- The narrative emphasizes a father and son partnership built on hard work and shared economic goals.
- The Queen’s Park Savannah is presented as a central hub where local culture and commerce intersect.
- Personal identity in the poem is rooted in trade and self-reliance instead of political or institutional ties.
Analysing the rhythms of the coconut counting man
By Marc Algernon
He’s the coconut counting man…
If you ever go to Mayaro in the dawn of morn
you will see undoubtedly this man of brawn
who climbs these trees with the greatest of ease
to pick this precious nut
whose water provides what no words could describe
with just one simple cut
one by one, he and his son, they load their rusty van
they don’t stop, they load it to the top
he’s the coconut counting man…
when the counting is done, he hugs his son
and starts his long drive to Port of Spain
he whistles a song because the drive is long
even worse it starts to rain
he says, “God washes the nut, wet is better than hot”
in his mind he has a plan
to sell his mountain of gold to those young and old
he’s the coconut counting man…
when he gets to the spot, the sun is blistering hot
at the largest roundabout in the world
The Queen’s Park Savannah, tonight is Panorama,
so much gold to be sold
his blade goes “shwing” and with a few meagre swings,
he cuts a tiny hole
he sticks in a straw, could you want more?
you can even get it cold
his smile grows wide with the feeling inside,
he is as proud as he can
he hums to himself at the growth of his wealth
“I’m the coconut counting man!”
Sure as the air is hot and the water sweet,
he cuts coconut and sells it cheap
he taps his feet to the coconut beat,
he is the coconut counting man…
he is not PNM or UNC
he is not ILP he says, he is he!
that don’t mine he family
and he belongs by the coconut tree
he’s the coconut counting man…
he’s the coconut counting man…
he is the coconut counting man…
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