Saturday, October 28, 2006

No Thief by Trade (Oswald's story)

We going back to that casino dung yonda, and we gonna check out who winnin and who cashin’ out and tekkin big money home. Den we gonna follow them ‘n see if dey walk dong the road a li’l bit. If dey walk you gone follow dem and hole dem up down a ways, and mek sure yuh wear de damn mask dis time. While you busy wid dem, ah gon run and get de cyar – don’t forget ta take de watch and jewelry too. Ah gon pick yuh up when yuh done. But you gon hafta run fast fast, cuz ah ain’ gone stop de cyah, but ah gon be sure to slow dong. Jus run and jump in fast. Now don’ be stupid an’ forget de mask dis time. Lord Jesus have mercy ‘s like a gah hole he hand, big man like he. Ah swear ah getting’ too old for dis shit!

All the while Oswald was fervently praying that his father would get distracted with the slots as was his wont and not notice if there were any big cash outs. He made silent promises with God that the waitresses would be free with the the drinks and that the bartenders were suddenly afflicted with heavy handedness. God forgive him, but he prayed that every single player would crap out – lose big time!

The cashier was conveniently located between two rows of slot machines - his fathers’ favorite kind – penny slots. Clarence strutted up to the cashier with his usual swagger, and as though Rockefeller reincarnated purchased a whole two dollars worth of nickels for the machines. He handed Oswald a roll of coins with a disdainful sneer and mutely pointed him towards the machine situated to the left of the cashier and whispered; “now, only play one at a time eh…We gotta make this money last a good while, OK? Oswald nodded his agreement and slowly walked over to the slot machine his father had indicated. He broke open his roll and obediently put only one coin in the slot, counting to five slowly before he pulled the lever. After about the fourth pull, Oswald lost sense of where he was, and what he was supposed to be doing, as once again, he started daydreaming.

Oswald was far away in dreamland when he heard an excited yelling coming from his right. A crowd had mysteriously gathered around some lucky fool who’d obviously won a large amount of money as they were all shouting Bravo! Good for you! It was at this point that Oswald heard: “Oswald!!! Boy, get yuh scrawny ass over heh to see wha ya daddy done gone and do!” Ohnononono was all that Oswald could think in absolute dismay, what has he done now? The crowd made way for Oswald to approach his father’s side, and to his great surprise his father was proudly standing in front of the winning Jackpot Machine repeating to all who would listen: “Ah jus had a feelin’ in me gut dat tonite was gon be me lucky night. Ah wuz telling mah boy so all de way dong from tong. Heh, look ‘im deh, ask ‘im if tain’ true!” All heads turned simultaneously to where Oswald was standing, who was trying his utmost to become invisible. “Boy, don’ just stand deh like a dam fool! Go look see if yuh cyan fine wannadem machine cashout fellas! Lewwe cash out quick an’ get de hell outta here.

Oswald was only too happy to get out of the spotlight that was growing brighter and hotter around his father. He quickly found an attendant and advised him that his father wished to collect his jackpot. The attendant smelling a possible big tip, hastened over to where he could hear Clarence singing to the top of his lungs, not caring that his falsetto was oh-so-slightly off key.

Clarence made rather short work of the attendant’s duties, hurrying him along at every tick of the clock. He didn’t bother thanking the young man, much less tip him. Almost dancing a jig in his glee at winning, he proceeded to the cashier’s cage and handed her his printout from the machine. She raised her eyebrows in surprise when she glanced down at the amount. “Would you like me to have a check made out for you sir?” Clarence stepped back as though he’d been physically assaulted, “A check? A check? You is mad woman! Gimme me dam money cyash! Tain’ cash ah give yuh when ah buy meh coins? Ah don wan no piece a paper dat look like paper, but when you bank widdit, it bouncin’ up and dong like a dam kangaroo! Ah wan cold hard cash! An ah checkin’ yuh good fa any false moves. Ah wan every dam cent, cuz ti moin!”

“But sir, this is a substantial amount of money, aren’t you afraid to be walking around with all this cash? Surely a check would be safer, I assure you the casino can stand for it!” “Chups” was Clarence’s insolent reply to her plea. “Jus gimme de money woman. Me an meh heh can carry an’ proteck it jus fine!” Shaking her head in disgust at his refusal to listen to reason, she shrugged. “Very well sir, I just have to go to the safe in back for a minute to compensate your win.” “Yeh, yeh yeh, jus hurry it up cauz ah ain’ got all night, aright?”

The clerk entered a large steel door which was located to the rear of the cage, mumbling to herself something about a fool and his money soon being parted. Clarence clearly heard her mutterings, but was simply in too good a mood to respond. He struggled to contain his impatience at the delay in getting his hands on the cash, but had no alternative but to wait, as the cashier was safely ensconced in her gilded cage, safely out of reach. “Ah jus hope she ain’ in de back deh printin’ up no funny money, Boy ah would be vex!” Oswald couldn’t help but chuckle at his father’s statement. “Yuh laugh? T’ would be hell tuh pay if she gimme any ah da dam Monopoly money yuh hear?” But the cashier luckily returned to the cage before his father could gather up enough steam to progress with his rantings any further.


Author’s note: I have included a link to my definitions of some words that some readers might find difficult to understand. I am in no way making any suppositions or judgments by this action; I am simply trying to make the story more pleasing for those readers who have problems in “translating” our bad English.

Sunday, October 08, 2006

Slumber nae too soundly

Slumber nae too soundly ere that limpid, insiduous beast of darkness should slither 'cross the threshold of thine doorway and do away with the goodness that resides within thine heart.
Blissful sleep doth oft repair the worries and hurts of the wakeful hours, but in the comforting arms of sleep the soul lays bare and open to the torments of the beast.

Thus I plead with thee to leave no room for trespass unto these thine sacred grounds...for one can never truly trust the dark to succor or protect thee from its evil grasp.

We are but wilted flowers in the path of its ill mannered altruisms and demonic persuasions.
For in slumber the beast takes hold of our meek and pliable will and bends it as butter freshly churned.
And like lambs to the proverbial slaughter we meekly tread, all the while knowing of the horrors that lay ahead.

Bah! Fie! I say unto this beast; get thee hence and away from my sight ere I summon the wrath of the gods upon thine head.
I shall call forth the winds from the four corners of the earth to flatten thee down to thine knees.
I shall wake the waters of the oceans to wash thee away as in the time of Noah and his great ark.
I shall cause the sun to scorch thine head so that it would shrivel and aught that would remain of it would be burnt remnants...

Alas, these are but words of bluster, filled with righteous indignation, made up of naught but hot and gaseous airs.
For I am aware in my deepest most secret soul of souls that at the onset of the first shadow of darkness, quivering I shall lay in the thrall of the threat of the beasts' imminent arrival to the doorway of my peaceful reveries.
Thus shall the nightly megrims be brought about as the liquid dark struggles to possess my very essence.

Thus it is with heavy heart and dragging step that I trudge toward the scene of my ultimate vanquishing.
Mayhap this eve my whispered pleas will at last be heard, allowing me to rest unencumbered while embraced by blissful carefree dreams...
Mayhap the beast shall rest this eve....

Living in Paradise

Living in Paradise is not all it's cracked up to be. There's the heat, the constant humidity. There's the unfair practices at the workplace. There's sexual harassment and abuse. There's the belief that women are substandard...Or just plain "fair game" and that we should "take that and cool it". Well I've had it! I'm tired, worn, weary, washed out and fed up with it already. The Caribbean woman is the center of the household, and whether or not she applied for the job, she somehow gets handed the "woman's work". "Woman's work" usually entails anything in the house beyond the front door. If a sock goes missing, she should know where it is. If a stomach is growling it is her duty to fill it. If the floor needs sweeping/mopping, well...I won't digress further. Suffice to say that all the bill paying, cleaning, cooking, washing or anything that goes on in the home is her job. The children's faith, education, etiquette and manners are to be taken care of by her, and if she should have difficulties in dealing with them, well then, that was her choice, wasn't it?The man goes to work, comes home, flops down on the sofa/bed/hammock and expects that his mate should manage everything that goes on in the home. Regardless of whether she herself works or not. His meals are to be cooked and served (don't even think of him going near that kitchen stove or sink. A broom? What in God's name is that? "Woman! You see me look like a maid?" This ritual it seems has been handed down through the generations, and has somehow been ingrained into the Caribbean Woman's psyche. I know firsthand, because you see, I am a Caribbean woman. You somehow end up feeling guilty if something goes wrong in the household. There is a burden that is carried on our shoulders as though a cross to suffer, yet we compliantly go along with it, why? Why should we be humble and meek and not stand up for our rights? Don't get me wrong now, I love St. Maarten. I love the beauty of the Caribbean and her peoples. There is an inexplicable joy in the day to day lives of the average Caribbean person (usually more pronounced around carnival time) and we are a people with playful mischievousness in our blood, which can be gleaned from our music, literature and basic way of life. Life could be so much better if we could get our (in)significant others to rise up to the challenge: Be a "Caribbean (wo)MAN!!!!

Caribbean (St. Maarten) Slang Definition

Look for black sheep before dark: Make hay while the sun shines