Miss Mac leaves a legacy that spans generations

There was a time when torches were used to light the way, when farmers travelled by mule and donkey to take their produce to market, and when Jamaica was still a British colony – Iscilda McCootie was here before all of it.

Now, 105 years later, when ‘Miss Mac’ as she was affectionately known, finally went to the “never fret country” she often spoke about, it was clear that she had taken a whole era of Jamaica with her.

“Mama had both – she had a long life and she had a beautiful life,” grandson Daraine Luton, editor of the THE STAR said. “Today, we gather to give thanks for Icilda McCootie. Our matriarch.” Bethlehem Prayer House in Llandewey, St Thomas, could hardly contain the number of people who turned out to celebrate her life on Saturday. The church was packed. People spilled onto the road, sat along the pathway leading up to the church and gathered outside, determined to be part of the farewell. Inside, persons of all ages sat side by side, a living picture of the generations Miss Mac had touched. There were silent tears, especially among relatives, but there was also laughter, applause and singing, as memories of the beloved matriarch filled the church.

When the praise and worship began, the congregation joined in, singing some of Miss Mac’s favourite songs.

“Praise the Lord, praise Him,” rang out among the hymns that had been dear to her. Perhaps fittingly for a woman who had spent a lifetime rooted in faith, an “old time religion” was credited with helping to keep her going. Miss Mac was a founding member of her church and served as its first treasurer, a testament to just how long she had been part of the community. Her grandsons’ eulogy then took mourners back to the Jamaica into which Miss Mac was born.

“Mama was born on February 21, 1921 in the quiet district of Manim also called Manim Pass,” Luton said. “Jamaica was still a British colony. Independence was more than 40 years away. The Second World War never come yet. There was no Internet. No smartphone, no social media and certainly no artificial intelligence.”

“She was born into the old Jamaica, she lived through 10 and a half decades of our beloved country’s transition and left us in the new Jamaica,” he added.

Her life was marked by change, but also by loss. Miss Mac was one of eight children, but by the time she died, all her siblings had gone before her.

“So even a life of 105 years, carried its share of loss,” grandson Richard Nicholson said. “She lived long enough to see many people she loved go before her but she kept on going, even though, in her words, she was motherless, fatherless, brotherless and sisterless.”

Her journey took her from Manim to Orange Tree, where she lived until the 1990s, before eventually relocating across the river following the devastation caused by Hurricane Gilbert in 1988. Those places, Nicholson said, were more than just locations.

“They were chapters of her life. They were places where she worked, raised children, formed relationships, and made memories.”

“Wherever mama went she carried a quiet dignity,” Nicholson said.

HARD WORK AND DIGNITY

That dignity was accompanied by hard work. Miss Mac was a farmer who carried produce from her farm to the markets in Kingston. She sold charcoal and worked as a labourer at Carreras during the days of the tobacco plantation. Before the days of the Morning Star bus, however, getting produce to market was an undertaking in itself.

“Mama and other market folks depended on mules and jackass to transport their produce,” Nicholson said. “While the animals carried the load the folks had to walk that long journey to the market.”

But perhaps one of her most treasured contributions was made with a needle and thread. Miss Mac was a gifted seamstress, particularly during the back-to-school uniform rush.

“She practically sew uniform for children in the entire community,” Nicholson said and the church erupted in applause in agreement. Miss Mac had nine children, although one predeceased her in 2021. The loss was painful, but Luton said she found comfort in watching the family she had built continue to grow.

“With new generations coming along, carrying her name, her values and her legacy forward,” he said. Her descendants eventually numbered 44 grandchildren, 66 great grandchildren, 23 great great grandchildren and one great great great grandchild.

“She would say, ‘A me mek all a dem people deh?’” Luton recalled.

And there were plenty of people gathered inside and outside Bethlehem Prayer House to prove just how far her family and influence had stretched. Jennifer Morgan described Miss Mac as “one of the last living legends in the community”.

“She [passed] at 105. A whole community died with her,” she said. For those gathered, however, Miss Mac’s legacy was not simply measured in years or numbers. It was measured in the people she nurtured and the lives she touched. That seemed to capture the woman whose home, according to the eulogy, always seemed to have room for one more person at the table.

Quoting Maya Angelou, Nicholson said people may forget what someone said or did, but they remember how that person made them feel.

“She made people cared for, welcomed, and somehow there was always room for more person at the table,” Nicholson said. He said Miss Mac also made peace with the idea of leaving.

“Mama had her own way of speaking about death,” Nicholson said. “She spoke about going to ‘never fret country’.”

For Miss Mac, that was somewhere beyond the troubles of this world, and on the day her community gathered to bid her farewell, there was indeed grief but also gratitude that she had reached her destination.