Monday, June
18, 2007 Guyana-Gyal
Seeing is believing
“That ain’t no rat,” me England brother say on the phone early Saturday
morning. “You all don’t have rats where you live, only mice.”
Where we live. Hmmm. I know we live in a nice place, big homes, accountants,
business people, doctors. But that ain’t mean we exempt from rats. I am sure a
lawyer or two live around here too.
I so want to believe me brother. I say, hoping he gon convince me otherwise,
“But I did see a big one here one time, it had stiff hair and a hard black
tail.”
“That was a big mouse. Rats are serious trouble...if people here see them they
call the health inspectors. They are so huge they fight cats and dogs. The
only place in Guyana I did ever see rats was in Kitty, them rats been so big
that them cats been terrified of them.” (A place named Kitty harbouring rats
so big they fight cats!)
“You sure?” I ask.
“Yyyes man, you all ain’t got rats.”
“Yee haw, mummy, you hear that, we ain’t got rats around here.”
“That is what you think,” she say. “Ask your brother if he don’t remember when
we first move in, it had one so olllld it been bald. It coulda barely walk, it
did need a walking stick.”
“Naaah man, you all ain’t got rats,” me brother repeat. Then he say in he dry
way, “If you ever see a rat you gon call the police.”
To be honest, we ain’t even see the thing in we house. We only know that one
papaw get bite up, and the glue trap move.
My mother say, “I don't know why you getting so worked up about this thing.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, you should talk. Look how you does freak out if you see a
fly in the house.” Right there and then I plot to ketch a big cow fly (if I
see one) and bring it in the house. But I change me mind when she step one
foot into the gluey-gooey glue trap. Unfortunately, I ain’t find it funny
because I feel sorry for she. She see ning-ning to get the glue off she foot
and I see ning-ning to clean the floor.
Saturday afternoon, me Merican brother, laughing, tell we mother on the phone,
“Tell she to be careful, it gon bite she toe while she sleep.”
That night we put the food in the wrong place in the rattrap. The thing take
the food and run away. I blaze with anger next morning. That thing ain’t know
the right way to behave? It ain’t know that it is supposed to go to the right
spot on the trap and get sprung?
And as if that eyepass...that insult...that travesty of justice...wasn't
enough...
We put the food in the right place on the trap last night. This morning, the
food missing, the trap sproing, and nothing get ketch in it. Obviously, the
thing grab the food and run away again. Sproing the trap, leave it upside down
and run away. I never see such shameless behaviour in me whole life.
So far, we ain’t see hide nor hair of the thing, we ain’t know what it look
like, we should put close circuit tee vee, my mother suggest, grinning. I now
beginning to think the thing is a jumbie. Ghost. Dead people spirit.
Jumbie does bite people toe?
-----------------------------------------
Friday, June 22, 2007
The jumbies that hold you...
“You find the rat yet?” Lush Annie ask me over the phone.
“No. But on Monday morning I discover the head of one dead rat in we yard, in
dry blood, he whiskas stiff like wire. I never feel such love for them
neighbourhood cats before. If you see bleach that I pour to clean the place.
And oh, early Monday morning I find a dead lizard in we kitchen. Since then,
we ain’t see one hint of the rodent in we house. Musta been a jumbie.”
We snicker. Annie say in she dry, matter-of-fact way, “Aiye, people here
proper believe in jumbie, eh?”
Giggle, giggle. “Yes, is true.”
Guyanese blame every event, behaviour or sign that we can’t explain on jumbies…ghosts…dead
people spirit. The most frightening of all jumbies is them Dutchman spirits.
They get blamed for the most evil acts that nobody can’t find a’ explanation
for.
When them Dutch people did own Guyana in, around, and a while after the
1500’s, they used to kill they slaves and bury them with they treasures to
guard the treasures forever. Don’t ask me if is true, that is how the story
go. But today, it ain’t them po’ slaves spirits that haunt we. It is them bad
Dutchman jumbies that torment we. Like I say, don’t ask me if is true, I only
telling how the story go.
“Ayie, Annie, you ever hear Monty’s Dutchman story?”
Before I could launch into the tale Annie cut in, “Monty insist that he see a
jumbie so he gon believe anything.” Monty is a twenty-four years old computer
guy we used to hang out with; he ain’t believe in God but he believe in
jumbies.
“More than one time he tell me this story. He say it got a Muslim girl up in
Berbice…a young girl, she sweet, sweet, sweet, and how she pretty, he say. And
every night a wicked Dutchman jumbie does trouble she, sleep with she. I tell
Monty to stop talking nonsense, he say, nooo, is true, the girl father heself
sit down one night to keep watch over he daughter and he see for heself. I ask
Monty what the father see, and he ain’t tell me.”
Annie say, “You ever notice how Guyanese does say is jumbie when the person
got a mental problem?”
“Yes, that is exactly what I been thinking about the other day…like that
coloured gyal Lizzie did tell me about…she ever tell you?”
Annie say, “Y’know how long now Liz tell me that story? People say how Cyril
Potter haunted.”
Lizzie used to teach at Cyril Potter, a training college for teachers. One of
Lizzie students used to cry to she about a Dutchman who does wait ‘til she
fall asleep then, according to the gyal, he make love to she. Sometimes, he
wake she up and tell she how he love she and can’t wait to take she away and
marry she.
“That must be some mental problem she got,” Annie say. “All of them got mental
problems and they say is jumbie.”
“Must be problems like that man in A Beautiful Mind…”
“That movie is one o’ my favourites…”
“Yeah, I see it two times.”
“Imagine, that man got to spend the rest of he life ignoring them three
people, he does ask other people if they see them too…”
Heh. Try telling this movie to Guyanese. They gon say how the man does see
jumbies. They gon even tell you more stories about people who got the same
experiences. Neurosis, psychosis, fear...all of them is jumbies that hold you.
Well, I ain’t know what kinda mind I got but I know I ain’t imagine that the
pawpaw did get bite up; the glue trap did move; the food from the trap vanish…not
once…but two times. So, ignoring Monday morning dead rat and dead lizard like
a true Guyanese, I declare it musta been a jumbie.
Oh…by the way…when me was five years old and cousin Sam was four, me and she
been playing at the top of we steps that lead into we house…and both me and
she at the same time see Ma, we grandmother. Ma been dead and buried a few
days before.
Jumbie
