There is no telling where you will end up when you spend a day with Michelle Neita, host of Neita's Nest Bed and Breakfast.

Published Author, Reverend Easton Lee traveled with me to the Institute of Jamaica in downtown Kingston last Tuesday for the launch of Ananse Sound Splash 2012 - a five-day international storytelling conference and festival held in Kingston, Ocho Rios and St. Ann's Bay. I only recently found out from Amina Blackwood-Meeks, producer of the conference, that November is International Storytelling Month.

Dr. the Honourable Barbara Gloudon, accomplished journalist and playwright, under whose patronage the conference was held, shared the opening moments with Zodwa Radebe of South Africa, presenting papers on Ananse and Cultural Decolonization. Other international participants included Momsa Mdlaslose, also from South Africa, Jan Blake from London in the UK, Jeeva Raghunath from Chennai, India, Sheila Payne from Curacao, Eintu Springer from Trinidad and Tobago, Baba The Storyteller from Los Angeles in the US, and Michael Kerins of Glasgow, Scotland. All were among those whom we had the wonderful opportunity of hosting here at Neita's Nest. 

A couple eye-openers for me as I chatted with my guests and gleaned insights into storytelling as a professional: albeit a natural but dying cultural tradition in Jamaica, storytelling is a learned art and an occupation for many around the world. Hail to the Bard of olde! 

But, these bards were pretty young! I remember as a child, looking forward to the visits from Didi, my grandmother's friend, who would tell us Anansi stories and put us to bed for Mama. I guess the trick was that, with the four little children sound asleep, the two women had time to "la-la" late into the evenings. Whatever their reason, we are blest with the knowing of being raised by the village, and with storytelling being one of our comforting memories. 

Then, there is my Dad, Hartley Neita, himself a published author, among his many other accomplishments. When my first son was born, Daddy used to visit, daily; each time with a story of his travels around the world, or of stories his father told him, or of historic highlights of Jamaica, of which he knew so many. One day, I said to him that I recognised that he was trying to continue a tradition of oral history, sharing stories that he wanted me to pass on to my offspring. However, there were so many stories, rich ones, that I was sure that I would not be able to do his wish justice. I asked him to write them down.

How was I to know, until he told me years later, that this was how he came to be writing again as a columnist for the Daily Gleaner. For 15 years after, he contributed "This day in our Past", and weekly articles of historical anecdotes of Jamaican life. I received countless, daily messages for Daddy, thanking him for sharing his stories. So now, I realize that my father was a storyteller!

Another member of our family, my mother's father, Dada, was a storyteller too. Dada would take us for long drives, and he had a story for every corner, every estate, every building. It was he who told me that the Moneague lakes rise every 25 years and do not die down until it takes someone with it. Dada shared, and we listened. Now I tell his stories to my children or to anyone who will listen. Does that mean that I am becoming a storyteller? Yikes!!

That brings me to my second eye-opener. I though storytellers were old people!

By the way, Easton and I ended up at the UWI Museum housed in the new Vice Chancellery on the Mona Campus where we visited with curator, Suzanne Francis-Brown, and spent hours sharing stories.

Did I say that storytelling was a dying cultural art form in Jamaica?

Recent bed and breakfasts guests, resolute that their plans to visit Jamaica would not be put out by the foreboding news of another visitor, Hurricane Sandy, embraced the excitement.

Read Tanya Marie Williams' post in which she shares some of her earliest experiences during her first visit to Jamaica: the different names used for the same fruit in Jamaica and in her homeland, Trinidad and Tobago, her first meal at historic Port Royal, and a weather condition mostly unknown to inhabitants of that Caribbean twin-island state. Here is how she summed up this latter experience, "It is not always sunny in Jamaica...but it is always beautiful". Thanks for that positive spin, Tanya.

So, what are the sights and sounds of a hurricane like here at Neita's Nest, you might ask. We have been through a couple, so here is what it is like. Rain water pelting the windows, anxious to find the smallest space through which to enter; strong winds howling through the trees; the snapping of branches and the crashing sounds as they fall to the ground; poinciana seed pods snatched for untimely dispersal and flung on the roof, rolling and rattling to the edge mimicking the sounds of a godzilla on the roof; the gushing sound of water rushing tumultuously everywhere - off the roof, down the hillsides behind the house, bubbling down the patio steps, on to the driveway and down the road. Inside, the rooms are darkened by the lack of power, turned off at source for safety. We stay far from the glass windows for fear of missiles being blown in. From a safe distance you can look through and see sheets of rain, as if torn from their drying line, being blown from north to south in uniform parade. Once we have prepared as best as we can for the hurricane, we wait prayerfully for it to pass.

Thankfully, we weathered the hurricane well at Neita's Nest. And yes, we are all saddened by the loss of our beautiful Queen Flower Tree which had her crowning glory earlier this year. Happily, we have saved pieces of her trunk for garden seating. Our thoughts are now focused on creating a new landscape feature in that location to welcome our family, friends and you, our bed and breakfast guests. Any ideas?