EPISODE 3 : The Artful Dodgers

You recall Pa from across the dam? Well, Pa turned out to be my wasta (my “know-somebody-inside”).

It came about that on this particular Saturday morning, my three friends and I were assigned to go to the canals to chop away 100 years of muck.

I saw Pa under the shed about to share out the cutlasses to the students who were not yet about.

Me: Uncle, me friend dem and me nah want to go to clean canal.”

Pa: Aarite beta. Do wah me tell you. Ayou go and hide behind this shed. Nah come out till me call ayou.

(It was clear that Pa would never tolerate the thought of Uncle John’s niece cleaning canals.)

Me: Aarite Uncle.

My friends and I slunk away to the back of the shed. We hid well behind heaps of coconut husks and jute bags and remained as quiet as the situation demanded .

About twenty minutes later, Pa came around the corner to tell us we could emerge from our hideout in two minutes. We waited while K counted to 120. Then, we crawled out. As we turned the corner, the crafty old man shouted, obviously for the benefit of any listeners.

“Weh ayou been so long? Ayou sleep late or wha? All de cutlass done share out. Wah ayou guh do now? Eh tell me?”

What could we say? We just stood there, trying our best to look contrite in case one of the GNS (Guyana National Service) people was around.

Please tell me how to summon up contrition when all you want to do is laugh out loudly.

It was obvious that Pa had already made his plan but he pretended to think for a while then he said,

“Ayou guh have to go and dig coconut. Come leh me show ayou weh fuh go.”

We spent the morning digging out the kernels from the shells, laughing at how our wasta had saved us.