hot ‘tarmac’ beneath bare feet– slippers abandoned, and fingers
splayed upon the road, seeking to capture warmth for themselves;
heat simmering across empty streets, empty roads– waves swimming
in the midday sun: people hiding, waiting, watching the sun;
the fragrance of curry in the still air– while savouring cook-up, and swank,
pondering met-em, and the power of sweet dumplings in soup, over
heavy ‘duffs’ (doughs?) in met-em loaded with ripe plantains, and good fish;
the grating of coconut, the grinding of handheld mills– mortars filled with
the heavy ‘thump, thump, thump’ of pestles pounding plantains;
settling onto dusty, uneven floorboards– church pews half-empty, as
congregants kneel in front: skin aches from the cruelty of sand grains,
intercessor’s prayer drifts, soothing afternoon air enters…carries with it
the sound of children playing in sandy, gravel-strewn streets;
walking on cracked sea-walls– slippers in one hand, other…sometimes outstretched,
chasing away vertigo, flirting with gravity until slippers are abandoned:
easing over the edge, pausing to find grip, and toe-hold,
earning bruises for clumsy descents,
having slippers thrown down (be careful! people does throw all kind of thing…),
walking, watching water inch in, feeling water lash out;
sapodillas cracked open– so sweet…damn it, so sticky;
teeth breaking the skin of ripe cashews– jaw clenching, mouth flooding: half,
the flavour of ripe red flesh giving away to white inside, half, mouth watering,
salivating;
half-ripe mangoes– sharp, sweet, tangy, rich with salt, and vinegar, ‘hot, hot’:
the sear of peppers;
sitting on the upstairs verandah– wide concrete rail, cool beneath thigh: traffic rushing,
house vibrating from speeding, loaded truck (girl! get down from there!);
peaked concrete fence, guava tree’s friend– sitting between branches, ignoring
crawling black ants, the press of concrete against bare-foot: belly full, jaw aching,
book forgotten under arm, tree forgotten after cutlass’ touch (what?! you cut it down?!),
and fancy, incomprehensible new fence winks, with its gold-painted iron points;
granny’s fish broth– calaloo, and carrots floating: dish made for two, until she migrates…before
the world falls apart, before the months run together;
afternoons watching t.v. up close– sitting on the back of the big chair (couch?): one
afternoon nearly taking the glass-filled t.v. cabinet down, as it tips over when it is grabbed
when someone slips a little too far down the wrong side of the chair back…
it is let go, it rumbles, it settles, glass clinks…a heart beats wild, fast, hard;
aunty’s erratic, fast driving– clutching handholds in the ceiling, thanking God
we all pray: praying for safe arrival, thrilled, delighted, as the needle inches higher
(now…do ministers even drive?);
you;
her;
me?
K.N.O.W. Sunday, June 26, 2016. 12.30 p.m.
Dude yes. 😊
LikeLiked by 1 person
Successfully induced homesickness
LikeLike
Lol. It’s only fair. I can’t be the only one waking up feverish for want of a traipse barefooted across the midday-empty road.
LikeLiked by 1 person
This was so poignant and evocative. It made me yearn for a place I’ve never visited 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you! I appreciate you dropping in.
LikeLiked by 1 person