The House Of Mr Christus

Chapter Eight - Downtown

"Dis da fi yestudeh, yu peelhed bubuman yu!" She said and, giving the man a hasty kick in the shin, ran down the street. She beckoned him with her hand, but he could not move. The man swore, tried to steady himself onto his elbows but losing balance swayed and fell back again. It was not until Samuel felt the sting of a stone against his leg that he was released from his paralysis and able to run. Priscilla turned into an alley and skirted around the back of houses, occasionally opening a gate, hurriedly cutting across someone's yard and exiting through another gate to yet another alley. Samuel had not recovered from the sight of the man on the porch, red-eyed and stinking of alcohol, and, by the time he got to the store, he wore the wide-eyed expression of an escaped animal.

The store was dark; walls, counters, and ceiling discolored with age. Sacks of rice and beans edged the wall. Tin buckets, rubber boots, ladles and kerosene lamps hung from the ceiling. The man behind the counter was weighing pigtails dripping with brine. He rummaged around the wooden barrel, found the size tail he was looking for and added it the heap on the scales. At the far end of the shop, a glass case boasting bright nylon brassieres and discretely folded panties shared space with sticky buns and coconut tarts. People were bunched up along the counter, waiting to be served, whilst others sat in the doorway or stood outside, gossiping or generally taking it easy. Priscilla pushed her way through, using her body to part the crowd. A woman shoved out the way by the force of Priscilla's bulk cried, "Yu gat no manaz! Wayt yu turn!" and stuck her hip far out so that Priscilla could not pass. Priscilla sucked her teeth. Agitated by Priscilla's lack of respect, the woman said loudly, "Shee tink seh shee dah uman!" People laughed, and Priscilla, tossing her head to one side, pretended to examine her nails.

Not daring to follow her between the bodies of the women gathered around the counter, Samuel remained near the door. Moments later, he was pushed between a sack of flour and a sack of rice. Caught between the bellies of the two sacks, he remained motionless. He had discovered a place more cavernous than his own home, alive with the warm, humid breath of what appeared to be a multitude. Priscilla had to pull him from between the two sacks and thump him in the back to make him move. On the way home, she said vehemently, "Ah gwain kick dat bubuman agen!"

Samuel began to cry. He wanted to get back to Lazario's. He did not want to be outside anymore. He was frightened of the bubuman on the rum shop porch, and he was ashamed of his fear and his tears. He did not want to be a baby, and yet he could not stop from crying. In her nine years of life, Priscilla had seen all sorts of crying and was hardened against tears but, like Angelita, she had never seen anyone cry in so inconsolable a manner, quietly, ashamedly. Fascinated, she watched him cry the entire way back. During that time, he had remained completely absorbed in his misery, his body folded into where his fists touched his eyes. He reminded her of a small animal displaced amidst creatures and none of them his own kind. In this way, she visualized his loneliness.

"Dat bubuman, yu noa hoo he?" Priscilla asked. Samuel shook his head and she replied, "Dah mai pa."

Gradually his tears subsided and she took his hand. When they came to the rum shop, her father had gone. Priscilla took the pigtail to her mother and then joined him in the yard where they sat under the mango trees. She took out a deck of cards and asked if he knew how to play Pitty Pat. He didn't, so she taught him the rules and after the first two games said they were now going to play for money. She put down twenty-five cents, but all he could find in his pocket was five cents and a marble. He put the marble and his five cents beside her money and they played, slapping the cards down with relish. Lightning streaked the sky followed by cracks of thunder and rain.

Mrs Christus, come to check on him, found him dancing in the rain, the twenty-five cents held high between his thumb and forefinger like a trophy. It was the cue she had been waiting for. It was time he went to school. Later, when the rain had subsided, she again looked over the balcony but could not see him. A few storm flies landed at her feet and she squashed them. A few more drifted past her face and then they began settling on her hair and arms. She eventually found Samuel in the brick passage, sheltering from the swarming flies with Priscilla. She led him by the hand to where Lazario had parked the car. The car had belonged to her husband but now it was Lazario's. Samuel, sitting in the backseat of the sky blue Chevrolet, held the twenty-five cents out the window, showing it to the world. The flies, small lace winged termites, floated in through the car window.