[420 Girl]

It is a long, rocky journey to the secluded rural community of Slipe in St Elizabeth. The unpaved, pothole-filled road leading into the small farming community is in a sate of disrepair. Grazing cows in dry, dusty fields on either side of the road is a permanent feature of Slipe. The dwellings are well spaced, and it is obvious that the population density is low.

The strong smell of marijuana (weed/ganja) hits the nostrils as we manoeuvre our way on the bumpy road. Further on, a group of 'spliff'-smoking young men stare suspiciously as the vehicle passes. We stop to ask a resident of the community about the lifestyle of the residents of Slipe. "Wi farm illegal things," she tells us without hesitation. "What kind of illegal things? Weed. Everybody do it and everybody know, all in the swamp dem plant it," she replies.

"We just have to tek the risks, all if the police come cut it down, we nuh have nuh other choice," the young mother tells The Sunday Gleaner. In Slipe, information is shared openly. Quickly apologising for not having any 'weed' ready to sell, a farmer points us in the direction of his friend. "You know, mi nuh have none (weed)," he says, "but mek mi go check mi fren. See him a come down the road."

His friend walks up to the vehicle and informs us that he has no weed available, but he is going to check to see if "elder have any." The farmer, dressed in a singlet and short pants, scales a wire fence in search of the 'ting'. He returns about five minutes later, gripping a black plastic bag tightly.

"Him seh you nuh affe pay still," he says when handing over the bag. We then make our way out of the ganja-farming community.

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