No Pain Like This Body (10 page)

“Oright.”

Nanna went inside the house and said, “Who want to go wid me and bring de chile from Tolaville?”

“I go go wid you oldman,” stick-fighter Benwa said. Nanna and Benwa jumped on a horse cart and left for Tolaville.

The women in the kitchen were having a good time. They were excited; getting on like crazy ants; talking hard and run­ning all over the place. Ma was still on the ground; she was drunk and talking about Rama.

The fat woman called Pa. “You wife not restin at all,” she said.

“Give she some more rum. Rum go help she to feel good.” Pa went back to listen to the stories. The fat woman called, “Ay Jasso!”

“Oy!” Madrassi Jasso answered.

“Come dis side nuh gal. Wot de ass you Join by de mens all de time?”

Madrassi Jasso came inside the kitchen. She saw Ma on the ground, so she asked what was wrong with her.

“She mind worryin she too bad,” the fat woman said. “But she husban give me some rum to give she. She go feel good just now.”

The fat woman took a drink and passed the bottle to Madrassi Jasso. She swallowed a few drinks
gluk gluk gluk,
and passed the bottle to the other women in the kitchen. “Time to hear a story,” Jasso said.

“Oright,” the fat woman declared.

Pulbassia was the name of the fat woman. She told the other women to move and make room for Jasso to sit on the floor. The drunken women shifted a little, and Jasso sat down. “Gimme anodder drink befo I start,” Pulbassia said.

When she got the drink she began to tell the story. “Well all you womens know dat Ama is a jamet. Man never enuff for she. All you see dat Pandit who siddown outside dere. He just playin priest in Tola, I tell all you. One night up in Sancho Estate, Ama de want a real good man. So she wake up she hus­ban Ramai in de night. Wen Ramai ask she wot happen, she tell she poor husban dat she have a spirit on she. Well all you know how Ramai like Ama. Ramai take Ama dat late hour in de night and bring she down Rajput Road to meet dat same Hindu priest sittin down outside dere. Ramai wake up de Pandit and tell him dat he wife have a spirit on she. De Pandit lissen good, because all you know Ramai is a big man in Tola. But de Pandit de know dat Ama de just want a good man in she ass. So de Pandit tell Ramai to go outa de house and leave he and Ama alone. Ramai leff de house. As soon as Ramai leff, dat priest outside dere just pull Ama down on de bamboo set­tee. Man I tell all you, dat priest start to make ruction. He put
Ama down and trove able ledder on she. Well de Pandit give she good in she tail. After dat Ama leff and come outside. Den de priest come outside too. Ramai ask de priest if de spirit gone. De priest laugh and say de spirit gone. Den Ramai take he wife to go back home. But de priest call him and tell him to bring he wife every week for a check up.” Then she asked Jasso, “You tink dat old priest coud ride a woman?”

And Jasso: “Dem Hindu Pandit and dem does eat butter. Dey does drink milk. Dont hot you head nuh. Pandit does look for dey little womens like anybody else yeh.”

But dat Pandit so old man,” a woman said.

Pulbassia said, “Old! Dat Pandit face only old.”

It was almost midnight. Some of the women were going to sleep on the earthen floor in the kitchen. Pulbassia held a bottle of rum in her hand, and said, “All you womens drink de kiss me ass rum nuh!”

The women loved rum. They sat up and continued to drink again.

The men were telling stories on the other side too. There was plenty of joy in the house. Pa was laughing hard hard and enjoying himself. It was the priest's turn to tell a story. But the priest was complaining; talking easy easy and saying how he was not feeling well. “Dont play de ass Baba,” Pa said, “tell we de story man.”

“Oright,” the holy man said.

With opened mouths the villagers waited to hear the story. The priest studied them a little, then he told the story about John Sharp the whiteman, and the grandfather of stick-fighter Benwa. Benwa's grandfather was called Karan. He came to Carib Island in 1845. Then Karan went as an indentured labourer on Indian Estate. John Sharp was the overseer. Karan was a very strong man. He finished serving his bound in 185o,
but he remained on the estate and continued to work with the whiteman. In 1855 when the whiteman left Indian Estate and came to Tola, he brought Karan with him. Then Karan left Tola and went away. Many years later Karan came back to Tola with a horse cart. He lived at the whiteman's house.

Everyday Karan used to take the horse cart from Rajput Road and go to the Carib Mountains. For years he brought stones and dropped them in Tola cemetery. Then the white-man and the grandfather of stick-fighter Benwa went to Spanish City, and brought another whiteman to Tola. The strange whiteman built a tomb. Soon after that Karan died, and John Sharp and the strange whiteman from Spanish City buried Karan in the tomb. Then that section of Tola was called “Karan Settlement.” So the grandfather of stick-fighter Benwa will remain a mystery in Tola, because he was a great man.

The priest pursed his lips and watched the people.

Then Jadoo folded his arms and said, “Me eh tink dat Karan was so great.”

The other villagers were afraid to talk back to Jadoo, because he was one of the fighters of Tola. But the one-legged villager winked saying, “Jadoo you wait till Benwa gone wid de oldman to Tolaville befo you talk so. You coud say wot you want. But Karan was a great man I tell you.”

The priest knew that Jadoo was a hot-blooded man, so he said, “All you pass around some cigarettes nuh. Get some coffee and ting for de people.”

Pa realised that Ma was drunk enough. He got up and went inside the kitchen. Ma was sleeping on a ricebag. He folded his arms and said to Pulbassia, “Everyting oright in here?”

She laughed and said that everything was all right.

“Well tell we someting about you dead son, nuh,” Jasso said.

Pa folded his arms and talked to the village women; they folded their arms and listened; they listened with their eyes open and their mouths wide open. Pa told them how he loved children, especially Rama; telling them how he used to bathe Rama, wash his clothes, and put him to sleep at night. Rama loved him so much, and he loved Rama too. He used to work like a bull. He loved work so much that at times he never bothered to eat. He used to work day and night in the rice-land: cutlass the lagoon and fork up the dirt from sunrise to sunset, all this he used to do because he loved his children. He bought the most expensive clothes for his children, but they threw the clothes away. Now Rama was dead. He was not to blame. Ma was bad. She was a rum drinker; she used to drink rum night and day; she used to hide the rum inside the rice-box; sometimes she hid the rum inside the riceland. Rama got sick because Ma sent him to hide rum inside the water. Ma was a careless woman; she had no love for her children; none whatsoever, and this was the reason why Rama got sick and died in the hospital. The night Rama got sick Pa carried him to Tolaville Hospital on his shoulders; rain was falling and there was thunder all over Tola, yet he carried Rama on his shoulder to the hospital. When he put Rama in the hospital, he walked back to Tola Trace for Balraj. He did this because he loved his children. That night Ma was drunk and sleeping; she didn't even help him change the children's clothes. So the vil­lage women listened and listened, and tears fell from their drunken eyes as they listened; they felt sorry for Pa, so they moaned for him as they listened and listened, and Pa talked and talked.

Pa kept his eyes on the ground. He wanted to be certain that Ma was drunk enough.

Nanny could have told the village women a different story, but she was too busy in the backyard boiling coffee. Pa had to
be careful. Nanny had to be out of the kitchen in order for him to talk.

Jasso held Pa around his waist and said, “Look at de poor man.” Pa smiled a little because he was feeling good like. “Eh, look how dis poor man worryin about he chile. I tell you. Look how he wife drunk!”

“You go take a little drink?” Pulbassia asked Pa.

“Yeh. I go take a little little one wid all you womens.”

Pa took a little drink, looked at Jasso's hips a little and then he went outside.

“Past some rum around nuh man,” a villager said to Pa. Pa said sadly, “Is me son who dead. Me mind worryin me bad. All you help all you self nuh.”

“Sorry bredders,” the villagers said.

Pa sat close up to the priest. He told the holy man how Ma was drunk in the kitchen. The priest took out he eyes and said, “But you wife playin in she ass really. You mean she son dead and she drinkin rum?”

“Yeh Baba.”

Their talk was cut short. Nanna and Benwa reached with Rama. The horse crossed over the drain and pulled the cart into the yard.

There was plenty of excitement in the house. The sober villagers ran out into the yard and the drunk ones stirred in their sleep. The women left Ma in the kitchen and went into the yard to see the child. They were shubbing each other and talking kind of drunk like. Nanny and Sunaree left the coffee in the backyard and ran by the cart also.

Rama was on the cart all right. Just dead and lying down stiff. He was wrapped up in white sheets; he looked like a sack of flour. When Nanny saw Rama, she started to bawl. “O God! Look how me grandchile dead!”

And Nanna: “Hush you mout. He done dead aready.”

But Nanny couldn't shut her mouth; Rama was already dead but she couldn't shut her mouth, she kept on saying that Rama was a child and God had no right to kill him.

The village women were putting on a show. They held their breasts and rubbed their bellies and cried; they cried and cried; rum made them cry, they cried loud loud and blew their noses
tort tort tort.
Jasso jumped as a monkey and said, “Look at de poor little chile.”

Pulbassia scratched her behind and groaned.

The one-legged villager rubbed up against Jasso saying, “I in de mood gal.”

The village priest was getting on like a madman; he pulled his white beard this way and that way; he shook his thin body this side and that side; then he farted and said, “Bring de chile in de house.”

A woman hawked and spat on the ground saying, “Dat kiss me ass priest guts like it rotten!”

Nanna forgot himself. He just stood by the cart and looked at Rama. He didn't even hear the priest when he said to take the child into the house.

“Dowlat!”

“Yeh,” Nanna said.

“You eh hear me say to take de chile in de house,” the Pandit said.

Nanna and Benwa brought Rama into the house. They put him on the ricebags near the ricebox. Then the Pandit recited a few mantras over him; he spat the verses fast fast. Nanna stood and listened to the mantras.

“Open de chile now,” the priest declared.

With trembling hands Nanna removed the sheet from over Rama's face. Rama's face was bluish like a kohong's wings. It looked dried and long as a dog's face. His eyes were shut tight, but his mouth was slightly opened. Then Nanna called Pa. He came and stood near the ricebox.

“You have to touch de chile forehead,” the priest said.

Pa bent down, touched Rama's forehead and moved away. “Now he modder have to touch he forehead,” the Pandit declared.

“But he modder drunk!”

“But she still have to touch he forehead,” Nanny said.

Pulbassia and Jasso went into the kitchen to get Ma. She was still asleep. They shook her. She was too drunk. Grabbing her hands, they leaned her against the wall. She sat there with­out opening her eyes.

“Get up woman! You son in de kiss me ass house!” Jasso shouted.

“Dis woman son dead and she drunk,” Pulbassia added. “She lucky she have a husban like Babwah I tell you. He just wastin he time wid dis dry ass woman.”

Ma didn't move.

Pulbassia took a cup of water and threw it
vash
in Ma's face. But it didn't help. Ma didn't even open her eyes.

“Well I never see dis modderass ting!” Jasso swore.

Nanny walked into the kitchen same time. She heard Jasso's remark. “Why all you womens dont shut all you tail! Me dorta is not a rum drinker like all you nuh. All you Madrassi bitches is de biggest rum drinkers in Tola. All you forcin rum down she troat all night, and now all you sayin she is a drunk­ard. But it have a God in dat sky. He seein all you.”

The women didn't talk back to Nanny, because she was talking the truth. Nanny went to the rainwater barrel with the enamel dipper. She got some water and came back inside the kitchen.

“Which part I is?” Ma asked.

“You in de kitchen.”

Pulbassia and Jasso giggled.

“If all you womens have to laugh, den go in de road and laugh. Dis house have a dead in it.”

Nanny held Ma's hands. She lifted her a little. Pulbassia and Jasso watched. Ma stood up. She leaned against the earthen wall. She breathed deeply through her mouth; her breath smelt of rum. Nanny led her out of the kitchen. With great care Nanny helped her to the ricebox. Ma leaned against the ricebox, and Nanny sponged her face again.

Ma said, “0! 0! Me head spinnin me.”

“Touch Rama head. Dat is all you have to do.”

When Ma heard Rama's name, she shook her head; opened her eyes; looked down.

“O God . . . “

“De woman drunk and de woman mad!” Pa shouted. “Move she away from here!”

And Ma: “You kill me chile. Rama was well well. You is de cause me chile dead today . . . “

“I tell all you de woman mad!”

And Pulbassia: “All you move de woman away from here. She drink rum and she only goin to make trobble.”

Ma stooped down. She touched Rama's forehead; she touched it easy easy, then she grabbed it real hard. Nanny pulled her away; Nanny had a hard time pulling her away; Ma was strong; drunk and strong. Ma had fire in her eyes and the strength of a cow. But Nanny held her and pulled her as if she was tugging a bundle of green paragrass. Ma was strong strong. Nanny had to pull and pull. Ma gave up. Nanny guided her into the kitchen. Pulbassia and Jasso followed her into the kitchen. As soon as Nanny went into the backyard to see about the coffee again, Pulbassia opened a bottle of rum and pushed it inside of Ma's mouth. Ma made a lot of fuss, but Pulbassia put her knees on Ma's chest and poured the rum into her mouth. Then she pulled out the bottle. Ma shook her head from side to side; some rum fell on her thin neck, then she dropped flat on the ground.