275-24: Slackness

The question my father ask me is whether or not these people dem is fear the blackness they see or the blackness they cannot. `Is it the blackness..Or the lack of blackness..That cause the slackness`..(decades done pass but i just find out that my man spent his adolescent Sundays behind the church writing dub prose while the proper West Indian boys sung hymns of the Second Coming to the preacher`s daughters in the front row). Father tend to ask questions that he already know the answers to..sorta like when  police ask for license and registration as em reachin pon hip for back-up…  either the walkee-talkee or  the  ‘no-walkee-no-talkee’, whichever machine the hand reach first. Naturally, I am hesitant to answer.

 

So when he say `I not askin you, I askin the sky“ my nostrils relax tough and shoulder blades ease up.  The sky don`t talk much nowadays, not like (so I heard) back when father was young and the air clean.  But today, my first day on the job, the sky was chatty-chatty and ready feh talk.  Wunna must ask the right question.  She did snap at my father,` you hear  Sun talk `bout brightness? Or she just do what she haffi do every morning, praise god? Nuh mind dem.` My father tightened his grip around the shovel.  `Jason. Grab yuh fuckin hoe and start planting man before the hotel fire we.`

I comply, deflecting the  invisible probes of tourists staring  at we-the-help without staring at we-the-help. One day, I gunna reason with sun and sky and handle all this talk of slackness both up there and down here.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s