When David came
There I am, half naked, strutting my black skin on the sparkling white sands of The Seychelles. You know, I like those exotic places, being an exotic person myself.
Then my technology alerts me. It's a WhatsApp text. Annoyed. I had told everyone, including my legion of fans, to disturb me under no circumstance.
I had left Mama's yard for peace and sobriety, and more so, the mere sight of the Orange and Green ones pains me. So I left to have a pain-free existence.
When I see who was texting my annoyance subsided somewhat. He knows how to get my attention.
" Yes Oxy! Di feisty man come yah come dis wi an Mama no do nothing bout it."
"Which man dat?"
"Nuh David Cameron."
"No di England PM."
"Oh! I thought he was dead. What is he doing there? He brought the reparation money?"
"Him gone areddy, but him say him nah apologise fi slavery and wi fi figet it, and no reparation money. But him aggo help wi build a prison to ease di burdn from affa di British govt."
Now, a topless maiden is passing by. She winks at me. Mi blood boil. Wow! Mi blood boil some more. And up I go into my beach-front hut. I have to pack. I am on the next plane. Mama needs to say why she clapped after the insult. Mi blood boil some more.
While waiting for a connecting flight, I am sitting in disbelief. The flight is delayed. I rest my head against the wall and I drift across the Atlantic, right back to The Rock, Mama's yard, in the House of the Oranges and Greens.
As soon as Dave spews the insult, Mama shoots up from her seat. Eyes red like a rolling calf's, and the bang on her forehead stiffens into horns. And into David's face she bellows. It turns lobster-red. "Let me tell you something, mi nuh fraid a no bwoy, no gal, nowhere! Yuh leave all the way from England to come here to pull mi tongue, to insult mi an mi pickney dem!
"We are the descendant of enslaved Africans, who for 200 years of blood, sweat, and tears existed in the most subhuman of conditions. And now you are telling us to move on, just like how your ancestors have raped, killed, and plundered to become kings and queens.
"But guess what, Dave? I regret hugging and kissing you when you arrived. If I knew you were coming here with your outa awda self, I would have sent you back into the plane with my right leg.
"While we are not trapped in the slavery era, we shall remember what our forebears went through, the worst atrocity ever meted out to any group of people. You refuse to apologise, and now you are telling us to move on, from our history, from our story. We will remember, lest it happen again. It's in our DNA, so you might want to kill us all. Your ancestors had no qualms about killing ours, so that should be easy for you.
Dave is startled. He has never seen charm evolve into venom in such a short time. Moreover, he's sick and tired of feeding the imprisoned descendants of enslaved Africans, and now here was one of them giving him the tongue-lashing of his life. He's afraid. Mama's horned bang is getting too close to his now orange face.
He could never imagine that the people who have begged him to help build a prison could be treating him like that. He feels tricked and betrayed.
"Ungrateful set of black people," he says to himself.
Mama's haranguing continues: "Now, I want you out of this country in less than an hour, and don't you ever return! And you can take your prison money and ... ."
"Mendicants!" Dave screams at Mama, who herself was developing laryngitis. His high-pitch wail jolts me from my own daydream. The connecting flight was gone. Good. I turned right back. Where is the maiden who was winking at me? Where is my baby oil?
You see, Dave and his insults are just another nine-day wonder. Should he return on the 10th day there will be more hugs and kisses, more ignorance, another deal, this time for exiled gays in Britain to be returned to Jamaica, and more insults. 'Get over your blackness, bleach, and move on', he is going to tell brown Mama's black children, and Mama will climb up and kiss him, and kiss him, once more.