The day Big Massa remained silent

A short story by Dudley McLean II

The sky over downtown Kingston was a bruised purple as Hurricane Beryl, a roaring category 4 storm, approached. The Carnation Market bustled with an undercurrent of urgent chatter, but the vendors refused to leave, defying the curfew and the impending danger.

Mr. Joe, a veteran of hurricanes, stood firm by his stall. He had danced with Hurricane Gilbert in 1989 and every tempest since, trusting that Big Massa (God) would shield him. “Ain’t no wind strong enough to shake my faith,” he muttered, his hands shaking as they rearranged trinkets on his table.

Miss Jane, with her two beloved dogs, held a frayed rope tightly. “If we gonna go, we go together,” she declared, the howling wind answering her determined voice. She started to tie herself and her dogs to a sturdy pole.

Amid the market’s resistance stood an obeahman, his dreadlocks whipping around like possessed tendrils. He chanted incantations to sway the storm’s fury, his voice desperate, and”Jah Rastafari! Ever Living, ever faithful, fire bun upon di storm an’ all Babylon!” But as the winds grew ferocious, his bravado faltered. “Big Massa, protect me!” he cried, as if prayers could outweigh spells. The first bricks of the market’s building began to crack and tumble under Beryl’s wrath.

In the chaos, a small figure darted through the tumult: Javier, a wiry 13-year-old with the fearless heart of a lion. He had come to the market to find Miss Jane, his friend and caretaker in the ways of herbs. “Miss Jane, come with me!” he shouted over the cacophony, yanking at her arm.

RESISTED

Miss Jane resisted, tears mingling with the rain. “I can’t leave my dogs!” she sobbed.

Javier’s resolve hardened. “Big Massa helps those who help themselves. I promise, they’ll be safe with us. Your faith is strong, but it’s wisdom that Big Massa honours too.”

Reluctantly, Miss Jane let go of the rope, and they hurried through the chaotic market, the obeahman’s prayers drowned out in the gale.

Javier, a lean, tough, and sinewy figure, held Miss Jane’s hand firmly. Miss Jane, looking slightly scared yet relieved, follows closely behind. Javier’s determined eyes show his resolve to get everyone to safety. He is dressed in a waterproof jacket, raindrops bouncing off him, and his hair is wet from the pouring rain. The two dogs, one a large German Shepherd and the other a small terrier, are by their side, alert but trotting obediently. They are walking briskly through the flooded streets, the water splashing around their legs, with the wind howling and the rain pouring down in torrents.

Javier guided Miss Jane and her two saved dogs to his fortified concrete home in the nearby impoverished community. The building stood strong against Beryl’s might, a sanctuary amid the storm.

The next day, as the sun rose over the rubble of the market, Mr. Joe’s battered form was found among the ruins, holding on to his trinkets. The obeahman, too, lay silent, his body a testament to false bravado.

Javier’s wisdom and courage had saved lives while the silence of Big Massa spoke volumes: faith must walk hand-in-hand with wisdom.