Knowing what you want and allowing what you don't want is surely an hard thing and Demar had been biding his time. One thing for certain is that he did not want to be a don, having to be constantly looking over his shoulders and murdering people. He...
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"Demar, Desmond is getting his sons in school," I tell Demar that evening as we sat quietly watching the children playing.
"Him and him 'oman dey pon dem own cause a three more months we have left pon di contract and we are moving elsewhere," he says glancing over to where Desmond sat feeding Cameyon.
"Where are we moving to?" I ask with peaked interest.
He look at me before saying. "I'm not sure yet we'll figure it out before then, in the meantime just relax and enjoy your time with the children because wherever we move to they'll be going to school."
Well I can't keep them away from school forever, I think to myself then say. "Ok."
The next day I took my mom, Mrs. Maize and the children out shopping for a suitable present for Raquenay, we bought fresh vegetables, seasonings and ground provisions. We saw Jamaican imported things in the supermarkets and we bought what we needed and lock them inside the truck before going into a fast food restaurant close by.
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We bought mild spicy fry chicken wings and fries along with cup sodas, it was delicious and the children ate their fair share. African food taste just like Jamaican and I sometimes forget we are not there, well that's until an African speaks. When we were ready to leave we ordered one whole fry chicken and fries to take home with us, so that Mr. Denzel and us could enjoy also.
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