Seduce E-Book

Desiree Reynolds

• Herausgeber: Peepal Tree Press
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2015

Seitenzahl: 281

Beschreibung

The word has gone out that Seduce is dead, and the mourners gather on Church Island in the Caribbean for her wake. All bring their own memories of Seduce: her daughter Glory prays for the rescue of her mother's soul, but there are also those who have come to make sure that "dutty filthy woman" has finally ceased to be a temptress to the island's husbands. Her grandchildren, too, both in their different ways marked by growing up in such a conflicted family, strive to find something positive in Seduce's life, and new directions in their own. And then there is Seduce's old lover, Mikey, come to make his peace. In this remarkable debut novel, told in patois prose that is poetic and delicate, profane and slyly funny, Desiree Reynolds has powerful things to say about race, class and the struggle between the sexes. Desiree Reynolds started her writing career in London as a freelance journalist for the Jamaica Gleaner and the Village Voice. She has gone on to write film scripts, poetry and short stories; Seduce is her first novel. A teacher, broadcaster and DJ, Desiree currently lives in Sheffield.

Leseprobe

DESIREE REYNOLDS

SEDUCE

First published in print in Great Britainin 2013 Peepal Tree Press Ltd17 King’s AvenueLeeds LS6 1QSEngland

© 2015 Desiree Reynolds

ISBN(Epub): 9781845233044

ISBN(Mobi): 9781845233051

All rights reserved

No part of this publication may bereproduced or transmitted in any formwithout permission

Contents

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

DI CAST

FIRST MOVEMENT

In and around Seduce’s House

Hyacinth

Alfredo and Clementina

Clementina and Hyacinth

Mikey

Glory

The Lampis

Pastor Collins

Seduce

SECOND MOVEMENT

The town square, Marshall’s office.

Loo

THIRD MOVEMENT

Outside Seduce’s house

Seduce

Glory

Seduce

Mikey

Hyacinth, Clementina and Glory

Seduce

Glory

Seduce

Hyacinth, Clementina and Pastor Collins

Pastor Collins

Mikey

Pastor Collins

Glory

Alfredo, Pastor Collins, Mikey and Clementina

Seduce

Marshall, in his office

In the bush outside the town square.

Seduce’s house

Outside Seduce’s house

Son

Marshall’s office

FOURTH MOVEMENT

Seduce’s house

Son

Marshall and Glory

FIFTH MOVEMENT

Outside Seduce’s house, on the way up the hill.

The Cane Church

On the way to the Cane church

Seduce

Souls

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

ALSO FROM PEEPAL TREE

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I would like to give thanks to:

Jeremy Poynting, for his indefatigable patience and unparalleled editing. I’m grateful.

Jacob Ross, for his commitment to this work and for passing on a true love of words. Passion is everything.

My parents, for the love of a good story, shared.

Family and friends, whose support and unwavering belief in me, helped this book to be.

To the Peepal Tree Family, one love and respect to all.

Dedicated to my mum, who keeps giving me life and to all the lives within.

DI CAST

Time: Some time ago, before yuh barn.

Place: Church Island, a two-bit rock off di mainlan

In order of appearance

Hyacinth Collins: Pastor Collins’ mumma, good lady of the church, guardian of everybody’s morals, a nosey ole bat.

Alfredo: Town postmaster, a black man, married to dat brown woman, Clementina.

Clementina: Wife to Alfredo, a self-righteous woman, too conscious of she status.

Mikey: Ole Rasta, ole soljah, Seduce lover; him spend time ah foreign.

Glory: Seduce darta, yellow woman who tink she betta dan odda people.

The Lampis: Seduce good fren an sistahs in faith. Women who cook a fish call lampi, which use to get nyam all over di worl but nobody want it now. Many a Lampi had to turn prostitute to live. Dey keep di ole ways alive. Dem outside Seduce house, for Glory don’t want dem in dere.

Pastor Collins: Hyacinth Collins’ pickney, a minister. Him have him own church dats respectable an too quiet. Him don’t believe in di ole ways.

Seduce: Jus dead. Glory mumma, Loo an Son granmumma, a onetime Lampi.

Marshall: Head of police roun dese parts. A brown man, him fight in di firs worl war. He tink him hol’ all di power roun ya. Him no know how him feel bout Seduce.

Loo: Seduce grandarta, Glory darta and Son sistah. Her farda name Jono, a sailor from di mainlan. No one know what happen to him. Loo name afta Lucretia, a legend roun yah, from slavery time. Loo always talk seh we an us, for she have more dan one spirit in she body.

Honey Rock: Loo’s name fi one ah dem back to Africa man, a smooth-skin, virgin politician, choosing Church fi free. She meet im at di rally outside ah di courthouse.

Son: Seduce granson, Glory son an Loo brodder. Him a teacher pan di mainlan.

People not here any more

Big Pearl Before Swine: Seduce granmumma.Likkle Pearl Before Swine: Seduce mumma.Geno: Seduce los’ bwoy pickney.

FIRST MOVEMENT

In and around Seduce’s House

Beginnings

The day opens her legs to let the night in. It moves from a dark lilac to bottomless purple. You wait for a moment to adjust your eyes and against your skin is a smooth coolness. By the light of the moon, you can make out a large structure that almost blots out the horizon. You can’t tell if it’s a building or something more natural, a shadow, a greater darkness just recognisable against the blackness. Clinging to the edges you can see movement.

The souls sail around, chit-chatting and remembering nothing. Souls do that. Visiting so many places, so many people that they very soon forget where they have been. They only know where they are going, and when they are there have already started to forget. They wheel overhead and cry loud into the dark, feathers reflecting moonlight, sharp eyes watchful. They bustle and nudge each other, some getting angry about the lack of space. A few circle around, waiting for one to go back. Sometimes they nip and scratch. They know they are only there for a short time, so they want to make the most of it. Some are bigger than others, some are quiet but most are loud and, for those that can hear them, their squawking can be heard for miles. Their long claws grip tightly to the perches and their small eyes look as if they are trying to remember.

A gap on the branch becomes free and several souls race for it. A fight breaks out, as it often does at such times.

They wait. They never know exactly when it’s going to happen, that strong tugging that takes them back. Through the light and the dark, the cold and the heat, and finally again the cold. Like mothers, they forget the pain. A small one manages to beat others off the perch. This one has been waiting for the pull back. Wants to go. Looking, waiting, watching. Others are squawking loudly.

She pays them no mind, she has squawks of her own she’s not ready to let go of. Sounds and trills. But she is tired and ready to get back.

Hyacinth

“Praise Jesus, our Farder, sweet Lord, in Jesus name, amen! What a sad time it is for all ah we. Here to bury di good sister. Now, we know dat all truths will be reveal before him. We are naked in di eyes of di Lord. All secrets will be reveal, amen! Let me hear an amen! When we walk in di light of God, we walk without sin, we walk in His righteousness. We will be flesh of His flesh, blood of Him blood. But if you sin, you will be cast out by di livin God. We not talkin bout di sun, moon an stars, like dem heathens outside. Close you eyes, close dem, feel God move in dis room, feel him, lock out di filth and wantonness outside dis house, amen. The Lord protect him sheep and let di evil doers be dash into di fiery pits of hell... Me an dis woman had our time, oh yes. It’s true. Dey may not have been any love lost but we respec each odda, yes dere was respect...”

... Me come fi mek sure di ole bitch dead. Me never like her – dutty, filthy woman. Mek me sick. What all dese women doing here? No decent law-abiding woman should be sullied by attending dis travesty and disgrace. Me? Like me seh, me hear dat she get tek, an me come fi mek sure she gone. What is wrong wid my boy? What to do? Him shoulda refuse to do di ceremony. Him should perform some kinda test. Mek sure di ole whore pass. Me not sure. You hear bout dese people? A lie she could be lyin. Look! Me swear her eye dem a trimble. Watch her, watch her now. People eatin di food, eatin! How can you eat wid dat filth in front of you. Me no know why di coffin not “Y”-shape, mek me tell you. Too much cocky track in she! God forgive me mout. Me hear seh even on di mainland everybody know bout she – one of di most well known Lampis ever. From when me did firs see her twitching she tail wid di odda Lampis roun town, me know dat she was trouble.

“We can only hope dat in her last moments she found di Lord.”

... Hear dem a mek noise outside. Drinkin, laughin. Ungodly. What’s wrong wid dem ole whore fren of hers? Me know Glory didn’t invite dem! Dey want to drown out the word of di Lord. Glory bes be careful, dem woman deh, dem Lampis – evil! Evil as di day long. Killas dem. Whores, ole higue, all ah dem, witches wid hearts as black as dem face. Dat is really where di bitch in di coffin belong. Wid dem. Dutty heathen!

Look at me chile, watch him nuh! Him ah do me proud, til me heart goin burs! Show di heathens how it go. Show dem, show dem! Praise God di day you come to me. I know him feel bad; dat will soon pass. It did before. Him wife seh she catch him in dat ole bitch house. Being a man of di Lord him shoulda know betta, should not be fraternising wid dese people, but him won’t lissen. You would tink dat di Lord woulda give him di strent to resist, to see di devil in all him guises. Is a shame. Is him heart, as big as di open sea out yonder. But is shame, is shame his wife catch him under di house. Dat is where him use to hide when him a pickney. Is him sof nature, jus like him modder. But dat ole whore? She ent have no shame. Still a tek man to her bed at she age. Maybe dat is what kill her; she screw sheself to death. She a burn in di fiery depths of hell. Praise Jesus!

Glory look so sad, cyant look at her, cyant let her catch me eye. She should be glad. I am. God forgive me. Now maybe every god-blessed husband in dis place will be where dem suppose to be. She was di reason mine lef me, I swear pan me pickney life it was. Dat ole hussy bruk up many a marriage on dis island. Man fool so still. Chupid. She come along wid crocodile eyes, tail twitchin, an man tink woman mus be like dat all di time. Glory – likkle, quiet, yellow child. Now, she’s a funny woman. Quiet, quiet, not like she modder. I used to see her sometimes, waiting outside di shops or in town. Never smilin. Me memba seeing her outside a shop, sad eyes, playin in di dirt wid a stick. She look so small an helpless, so in need a God, me want hold she, look after she, give she everything that ole whore could not, show her di light. But she fine di Lord an mek him she only judge, praise Jesus. Glory goin need all she strength today.

And look Mikey, dat ole fool cryin in he rum. Him a fool fi she, long years. He bring down him family. He was di only one a dem educate, an him turn fishaman. Imagine dat. Ah she, she bring him dung to her level. She bring we all down.

Alfredo and Clementina

“Good marnin, good afternoon and goodnight. Hehe, well, we are here, dat is for sure. Hehe. I wanted to seh... Clementina, stop pullin me! She don’t want me mek ah fool of myself. Anyway, mek me seh... Is good to... ahm, well dat’s it, I’ll sit down now.”

“Yuh ole fool, yuh did mek a fool of yuself. You come here to mek speech? Like di shame is not enough, Jesus God!”

“Sshh. My love, people will hear you.”

“Don’t shush me! Why are we here, Alfredo?”

“Sweetheart, darlin, sugar, it was, well, ahm, di right ting to do.”

“Right? Right?”

“Sweetheart, you didn’t have to come.”

“Of course I did! What you tek me for? I remember di times, Alfredo, cryin in me marriage bed, knowin where you was goin!”

“Baby...”

“Don’t baby me! Do not speak to me as if I was one of you whores! My poor parents, if dey only knew you was goin bring me so low.”

“Darling, please, you go antagonise yuhself.”

“Oh Holy Sweet Baby Jesus! We in di dead house, at di whore funeral! If you let anyone ah dem duppies follow we home to kill we in our beds cos you needed to come to dis whore funeral! Oh Lord, sweet lord, sweet baby Jesus!”

“Well it didn’t seem right not to come. Stop cryin, Clemmy, sweetheart, sugar, darling.”

“Alfredo, after everything you said. Look at our little post office. Do you know how many people would kill for what we have? What for do yuh want to throw it away?”

“But darlin...”

“Don’t darlin me! Comin home with her smell on you lips an her soul in you heart. Jesus Lord! Di depravity, di sickness. Is a miracle dat we have what we have, Alfredo. A shop, a post office, a house. Dem people would tink nothin of taking away all a dis. Why would you put it all at risk?”

“What dem doin? Peekin tru we windows?”

“Do not bring up you depravity in me face. Shame, Alfredo, have you no shame?”

“I just wanted to pay me respecs...”

“Respecs! Respecs! You tink such as she deserves respec, an you God-given wife none?”

“No, sweetheart.”

“Den what?”

“Well, ahm... ahm... I would tink dat God would be pleased wid me, dat me was doin di right ting to... ahm...”

“Check she dead?”

“Exact. You know what dem say bout she and dis family?”

“Alfredo, how strong you tink me modder is?”

“Wha?”

“Me seh, how strong you tink she is?”

“Well... ahm... me no know.”

“Is how you tink me come out a me modder as if me born dis size? She would be dead. Well she not dead, Alfredo, an me not born yesterday.”

“Alright, alright, but what is di worry?”

“Di worry, di worry, what about di priest, di farders?”

“What, sugar?”

“Di farders. What would dey say, what if our church found out? Aren’t you feared for you soul, Alfredo? We have good standing here. Our little post office. It is everyting me modder an farder work for. And one day, twenty years ago, you roll in there like one a di saints almighty and you talked dem to give me to you, me an di post office. You owe me an dem.”

“And neither you nor dem go mek me forget it.”

“Is what you seh, Alfredo?”

“Nuttin, darling.”

“You always savin people? Don’t it?”

“I... I... what you mean?”

“Me hear say, Alfredo, me hear say. And you know di mail inspector is comin today, an we haven’t got di mail.”

“I go pick it up on our way home. What for I have anyting to do wid di inspector?”

“Well he like everyting shipshape an he will be reportin dat we’re not in di shop.”

“What madness has taken over di worl when a man cyant come to a funeral? Well, me tink seh we set free.”

“Why you shoutin, Alfredo? People go hear.”

“Let dem hear, Clementina. Dem always hear, wherever we are, dem hear. Whateva we do, dem hear; you cyant poop an smady don’t hear!”

“Alfredo! Calm yuself!”

“Well, dem too blasted nosey. I’m goin outside.”

“Alright, me a come too.”

“Wha!”

“For you to go outside an drink wid dem ole whores – you drinkin buddy and sex fren? You mad! I’m not letting you outta me sight. For people to laugh at me? You lucky me here. Nobody can tell me me nuh know where me husband is. Shut you mout, Alfredo, you’ll catch flies. Dat’s right. Me a come. Get my hat an shawl.”

“But darlin...”

“Hush you lip, Alfredo and let we go outside.”

“Is di man me want to talk wid.”

“Oh, I see, relive di ole times? Laugh at you dirty ways?”

“Clementina, stay in here wid the ladies. What people tink? You out there wid di man dem and di Lampis, eh?”

“Maybe you have a point, but...”

“Yes, dumpling, you know me right. Stay here, in the kitchen. Glory has made some tea.”

“Don’t go into that room, Alfredo!”

“What is wrong wid you, Clementina? Di woman dead. You tink she goin to seduce me from di grave?”

“A you talk it Alfredo, a you talk it.”

Clementina and Hyacinth

“Miss Hyacinth, you are much in contemplation?”

“Oh, scuse, scuse, Miss Clementina, it is di day, y’know. Death comes to us all and mek you tink.”

“Truth is truth and it don’t help di holy contemplation, when a noise...”

“Of di devil himself!”

“...is ragin on outside.”

“Brazen!”

“Me wonder if dem not fraid?”

“Dem! Dey know nothing of Godly fear, Miss Clementina.”

“Yes...”

“An a lot of people who should know better.”

“Ahem. When we hear the news, I did not know that she would go down so quick.”

“Di devil can’t wait to claim him own.”

“In truth, Miss Hyacinth, I didn’t know what to expect today. Me know she have children, but is it only di one, Glory? Wasn’t dere a boy? Wasn’t he lost or sumting?”

“I was jus thinkin bout dat. Me surprise she didn’t breed up, breed up. But dem seh some people know di ole ways to stop demselves from bearing a child. No true?”

“Me hear dat also. You think she do dat?”

“Nuh mus! She must have juju di seed dem – oh scuse, me mout run weh!”

“Oh, Miss Hyacinth, please! The things you say! Do you really tink so?”

“Yes.”

“Er, yes, um, me hear dat.”

“Mek me tell you, me tink she kill di boy.”

“Wah!”

“Yes! You cyant jus lose pickney like dat. Nobody know what happen to him. Jus one day we hear seh him gone. Dem seh you lose what you don’t deserve.”

“Not everyone...”

“...is God bless. He don’t bless di wicked wid di gift of life. Is not so, Miss Clementina?”

“I... I...”

“Dat crazy granchild she have ent here and needa is the grandson; no one has seen him for years.”

“D’you think he’ll come?”

“I wouldn’t if I was him. Him get weh from dis place. Why would him want to come back?”

“To pay his respects”

“Dat ting deserve respec?”

Mikey

“Unaccustom as I and I is to talking out in public, I want fi say jus a few tings as Jah watches over all a we. I and I soon to tek me leave – no, no, me no mean me goin dead, too, doh me tink some ah you did tink so. Me choose life. I and I is a livin man; me no bargin wid death, no heng roun it, no let it be part of me life. So, me nah stay long, me ah go back up di mountain to me home, where Jah provide, but me feel it important dat someone talk dat knew her long, an I and I will tell you what dis woman mean to me. You all know di I. You all know she was de moon to me sun, di land to me water. Even when me a travel she close to me heart.

“Me nah fraid talk it, feel it. Di young people dem nuh know how to deal with what is in dem heart, but if you don’t say what in you heart, you heart goin trangle you. Mark me. Me know what me a talk. Me a talk bout di muscle string, di neck back, di shoulder blade, di han miggle, di foot bottom, di hair up di nose, di eye teet. An das all dat lay dung deh, inna di box, for we know she gone. Dat is just di ting dat use fi house her. All a we haffi tink on dat. We come to we own judgment.

“When me firs see dis likkle ting by di Lampi shed, me know di most high have provide me wid me queen. She tink she too nice. Is how high she nose coulda reach di sky, an she shorter dan we, eh? She start fi work dere, an every day me fine some excuse to go dere. Me start fi put me boat dere, me start fi sell me catch to di Lampi dem, but truly it was so I and I could catch a sight of she. She coulda run up an dung dem steps, up an dung, and when she done she sit down on the rocks and smoke she pipe. She start chat to we. She tell me she name, where she from. Everyting. Dere was no secrets. Me tell her everyting and dat was dat. Everyting set in stone. It already written. When she want me to teach she how to fish, me tink dat is why she chat to me in di firs place. She didn’t know how to swim, growing up here, and she didn’t know nuttin about fishin. Me tek she in me boat. She fraid. Yes me know she act like she ent fraid a nuttin, but mek me tell you, she fraid a water, like puss. She sit in di boat stiff so. Scared fi rock it. She seh me is rocking it fi joke and dat when she come back to land she goin stab me! Ha! She soon fine her sea leg. She put her line in and start to fish. Not long after, sumtin grab she line an she start fight. ‘Come here, you dutty, stinking was-not fish,’ she seh. ‘One a we a going end up in di pot tonight!’ Ever since den, before me put down my lines, dat is what me always seh, ‘One a we goin end up di pot tonight.’

“She and my mother – well some a you will memba me modder. Dat was a battle royal over I, and well, me modder didn’t like my involvement wid Sed. She hate fi accept me choice. But yuh have to accept yuh blood. Dat is for sure. If you lucky enough fi have pickney. We not so blessed and some dat are don’t deserve it. Yes, and I and I know di troot of it. Anyway. We not here fi dat. We here fi she. So hol up you glass and wish my queen safe journeys.”

...I an I tink she did know she soon dead. When me went fi see her di las time, she lay down. She neva git up again. She look at I and I and tell me to lay down nex her. Me fraid.

“You want me inna you bed?” Me shock.

“So?” She had dat look on her face, like you an di worl beneath her. But dat look would tek hol ah me, like bein drawn by you navel string.

“Well it’s been a lotta years. You a feel sick fi true.”

“You always haffi mash everyting up.”

“Alright cool down, sekkle. You mout goin give I and I headache.”

“God bless me days. You always sick. You foot, you han’, you head. Dis a hurt, dat a twis’ arf. Sumting always do you. It like dealin wid a likkle ole woman, to rarse.”

“An is yuh mek I and I tek sick, Jah know.”

She did know what I mean.

“When you did los di bwoy.” A tear run dung me cheek. Pain is still pain.

“Ole man, you no done barl? Dat a fifty years ago.”

“Me neva done barl. Neva. But Jah teach we forgiveness an conciliation.”

“Is what you talking, ole man? You like dem idiot pan di street.”

“A who dat?”

“Dem man, no wash, no comb dem hair, act like dem jus bush people.”

“You figet we all bush people. You figet bout you family a bush people an all what dem do? Woman, know thy self.”

She stop den, look out yonder window, searchin, me tink.

“You no haffi remine me bout me history, ole man; no one haffi do dat.”

“Jah know...”

“Jah know, Jah know. Seem like everybody a catch religion.”

“Depend on di religion yuh a catch.”

“Dem all di same.”

“No sah. Babylon try fi keep we under an use dem religion.”

“Yet you an you unwash breddas use di same book backra use fi oppress we. You too contrary to backside, ole man.”

“Yuh language bad terrible. Yuh no know how ole you is?

Carry yuhself wid some pride, African sister.”

“Oh God, me is me, ole man, an you an no odda crab-louse goin change dat.”

“I an I done fight wid you. Is dat what you call me for? Lissen to your words dat does hurt I an I ears?”

“I an I, I an I. You soun so fool fool. Come here before me shot you a lick you poop til nex week.”

“Not comin near you, man. Sometime man haffi be man.”

“By sayin no to me?”

“Dat’s right.”

“When truly, you nuh want fi say no to me.”

“Sometime you haffi do sumting you no like to do. Yuh sick, yuh sen di gyal fi me? What yuh want? I an I have plenty fi do.”

“What yuh a do?”

“I goin on a journey, a long way away.”

“Wait, you come here fi give me joke?”

An she laugh, dat bad-mine laugh an clap she han on top a di bed.

“Laugh all you want to laugh. Yes, woman, a call has come fi help di Etiopian broddas an sistas an babies slaughter under di tanks of di oppressor.”

“But wha we know bout dem? What about we?”

“We all di same, don’t you know dat? We mus know each an every one of us is di same or we perish. So say me kith an kin over di wata.”

“Not dat jackass dat want all ah we fi go back to Africa?”

“Him is di prophet most high.”

“Him! Me did know him uncle; yuh neva saw a man so tief.”

“Sed!”

“An what good did it do you di las time?”

“Dat was a long time ago. Maybe now di time is right.”

“You pick up you foot, seh you goin fight di war a di righteous, pan an island dat have no relation to we, an what happen? We free?”

“I an I was young den.”

“An you ole now. Look pan you, you can hardly walk. You can barely liff up youself. Look how you back ben’. Look how you foot stan when you came back before. Is me nurse you. Maybe me won’t be here to nurse you dis time.”

An she let di words drop an pitch outside. She did know.

She always try to catch me dat way. Always use death against me. Even my own. Di way a man know death different from a woman. I look dung at dese hands, dem have di tremble in dem dat get worse by di day. Bwoy, but ole age cruel. Maybe I an I cyant fight no more, is words now dat me haffi deal wid, not gun an knife.

Me look up an see dat she know me mine.

“Is whe you a go? You lef sumting out dere?”

Me know now what she a talk. After all dese years it still a get to she. Suddenly me feel betta bout getting ole cos di ole fowl still a feel jealous.

“Always a talk bout fight! Which part you can fight now. Can hardly tan up straight.”

“Is war out dere, Sed.” Me point out di window, the window she use to survey she queendom, she subjects – she keep she eye pan everyting in Paradise an beyond.

“Is a war in here to blood-eye, a war in here. Always war. People talk nex war a come.”

“I an I tell you.”

“An when it done, Church here still. An you can come home in a box, if dem fine you pieces. Lissen, ole man. Can you stop di trimble in you han an see straight nuff fi fire di gun?”

“I an I know all bout gun.”

“You sure you not goin shoot youself inna yuh one good foot?”

“No tell me bout gun, me can still fire a gun.”

“Den come fire it fi me, nuh?”

“No.”

So many times I see her on a wooden cot covered wid rags, in her hut on di alley, pon the sand, against a tree, under di stars, in di warm sea, pon a rock by di river, in di cole river. Layin dere, waitin fi me. Brown legs open, black eyes shut. Me no tink seh she know she did love me, but di look dat live in she eye dat day tell me she did feel it. And, of course, she right. Who was I? Ole man. But who we is if we stop fight?

“Come here, nuh.”

“No.”

“You no want to love me before you go?” She teasin me, she did know dat me not goin nowhere.

“We both too ole fi dat.”

“So you mean you not too ole fi fight, an limp up an dung inna a foreign, an get you tail shoot off, but you too ole fi love. Man brain tun backward.”

“No.”

“You piece a shit.”

“You see it. You no like people fi tell you no. I might be ole, an a shek, an have bad foot an han but today me a tell you no.”

“You wah?”

“You hear me. All dese years, you want dis, you want dat, you say jump, me mussa seh how high? Is a miracle I and I not dead arready.”

“No worry bout dat, ole bumbo, you time soon come.”

Jah knows dat woman could mek me mad. But me feet did carry me forward, like dem know what me don’t. Den she grabbed me hans an put dem all over her. I an I shock. Me heart not so good no more, an from time to time me foot swell up. But by di time me get me clothes off an fol’ dem up, me have to wake she up. Me cyant believe it.

“Sed, me no know if me heart can tek it.”

“You damn arse, what wrong wid you?”

“Me mean it, Sed, me heart bad.”

“You heart bad like me backside. You wortless ole dutty rastaman.”

“But Loo sen fi me, seh yuh sick, an yuh a carry on in dis way?”

“What kin’ a rarse you a talk, bwoy?”

“I and I is older dan you; is who you a call bwoy?”

“Come nuh, man, me nuh have all day. You nuh see seh one of us soon dead.”

Dat woman mout was bad. An’ dat is how we stay di whole afternoon. Was like ole times. We both a we put on a likkle weight, but if we hold in we bellies and tek it slow we manage. After all dese years, me know she body betta dan me own. She use she legs to prop me up. Me struggle to fine her. She try to guide me but it mek her muscle contrac, an me neck get crick. Heh heh, yuh never know seh hundred-year-olds can still carry on so, eh. Den di strangest ting happen. Sed start fi cry. She wasn’t barling. Dat was not her way, just a likkle tear follow her cheek down and res pan di pillow. Cryin is nuttin to me. I and I barl fi no reason all di time. I could be doin’ anyting – readin di paper, sleepin, shittin, anyting – an me start barl, me no know what for, or what start it, but di tears come. I and I feel is Jah passin over. No, di strangest ting was dat she let me put me arms roun her. She let me comfort her. Me couldn’t be more shock if someone come up to me in di rum shack an seh me is di king a Inglan. She hold I and I face. Believe me to Jah, I saw dis day.

...She look good today. Glory do she hair. Di floor is wet wid how people dash down dere drink for her. Me do di same. One fi she, one fi I and I.

Glory

“Tank you all for coming. I know Momma would be pleased to see you all here. For some of you it is di firs time you in our house. It gives me pleasure to welcome so many friends here, to help bury me modder, pay her respect. She work hard, hard, hard, an some of you would know dat at firs hand, but she did work all of her life and when in dese las years, she tek to her bed, she still had sumting to say, advice to give, knowledge to share. Her love was without bounds.

“She was a good provider, she taught me the ways of the world. She loved her grandchildren, always ready wid a joke and a shiny penny. She will be missed, she will be missed. I am so, so pleased to see you all come to pay you respects...”