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>>>>>>>.....Be honest, what really brought you out, was the announcement by the PM that he was looking for a caretaker for the St Johns Constituency. A position you and your fellow travelers see as "your Birth right". So your piece is actually the opening salvo, in pursuit of your mission, to lead the citizens of the parish.No? Didn't mean to expose your hidden agenda mon amie, but whether the South-siders will accept a Northerner at the helm of our sloop, is debatable...... <<<<<<< ROTFLMAO
The little Sprat ah throw out dey was not intended to catch any Whale, as there were no hook attached to my line and besides, the wrong bait. Joana was just tired of eating the Caca-bawe, Bannan and Smoke Herring imported from Town and wanted to make ah likkle Sur-lei broff. But you seem nervous boi,? even believing that I had ulterior motives designed to advance some kind auv ah political ambitions.
Sah! (picture me with tears running down my cheeky face), you din have to weaponize your response to me with the above neferious accusation, one that would definitely get me more coakie-eye looks on my next visit to the French Quarters. Already, they had started with the rumors on my visit in January last year and heightened their suspicions evrn more, when I came back again in May. Worse yet, they saw me eating ah little fish in Fish Friday while chatting with me ole buddy, George, so you know!?. Some ah dem dat ah know, turn dey face and give me the ole French stretch-mouth as they passed. Heaven would have forbidden if they had seen me attempting to go up Morne St. Rose to get some of that "yellow skin" Water Lemmon and Penapiece they have up dey; worse yet, if I stopped to say howde-doo to my former nice, lovely neighbor and Teacher. All dem "Green skin" Gwana would have tracked me down through the Cornice Walk short cut while giving me "sand for sugar and stone for tight bread" in me tail. But by the time I made it up Boulevard de Depradine, they already started saying that I was by the Englishman.
Lord put ah hand with these people and dem sometimes.
So with your scandalous rebuttal of my innocent post, alluding to my venture into the political arena to wrestle power from them honorable goodly persons, next thing you will be saying is I intend to build my own bridge somewhere in the French Quarters. At the rate you are going, I won't be surprise if Mugaby declare me persona non grata, saying I am not ah Grenadian French Creole anymore.
Boss, during my last trip in May last year, I realized that my long absent from the French Quarters had given them enough time to take me "Parish" from me; particularly when I saw the Grand children of those who were children when I left, running things. When one of them told me who their Granmother was, I pulled out my calculator and quickly figured out that she had to be conceived when her Mother was about fourteen years old.
But the worse came when one late evening, while taking my little walk down Edward Street. I passed a group along the way and could have heard the shu-shuing, with one of them saying "a a! we have strangers in the place, boi!? I decided to cut my walk short that evening and returned back to being domicile in my Chateau, wandering if I had gotten on the wrong plain .
I am sure by now you must get the picture that the "Caretaker's position" requires a special brand of practitioner, one that is capable of acting the part. So I can say emphatically, No Sah! not me, "me mouth to sharpen" for this kind of work, besides the other Frenchman, monsieur DeCoteau already has a lock on that job. You notice his strategy is staying clear from Grenadian politices? Smart he playing smart so.
The Monsieur from the French Quarters.
My sincerest apologies, Mooshay Vernon, as we South-siders would say in our Sunday best French, for getting you into cattle belly crossways, with your once beloved partisans. My intent was to inject some mirth, into what is otherwise a very morose and funereal forum, and certainly not to expose you, a once beloved "Son of the sand" to the ire of your fellow tribesmen.
This unfortunate circumstance which should inform us all, is how tenuous and nebulous those ancient tenets, of brotherly love and family ties, have become. In this dog eat dog world of today, its "no money no love," and if you do not comply, "dog eat you supper" except at the esteemed Mamma San's Emporium of Epicurean delights, at #1 Rue d' Boyke, where the opposite is true.
Your mistake was not employing our good friend Talkshop Selwyn, to pass the word, prior to your arrival, that kind stranger from "Hamerica" with a reputation for running de bread, was on his way to the Upper Depradine. You would have been welcomed with open arms, and the red carpet, would have been rolled out on de Pont du Seine, construction or not. Of course the " cut eyes and stretch mouth" you endured, would have been replaced by "sweet eyes and blown kisses" and all Selwyn would have charged for such an essential service, would have been an eights of Clarkes Court, for each day of your stay.
Your experience reminds me of the time, I took a visiting Diaspora dwelling friend of mine on a tour of the Town that duzzen sleep. After being commanded to come in and make a drink, at just about every rum shop we passed, we inadvertently bumbled into "Gun Battle", and immediately received to scrutiny and attention of its denizens. The lazar guided stares trained on us, were so intense, that it burned through our clothes, and we beat a hasty retreat to Kelly's Hot Spot, to cool down, and recover our "rum high" which had been blown by that encounter. My friend afterwards commented that for a moment, he felt as if we were two soul brothers, who stumbled on to a Klan rally , in the Mississippi woods. It's a hard knock life, indeed.
My advice to you Mon Amie, is that the next time you visit the French Quarter, make your appearance as the second coming of "Mr Mills'. Milk white suit and shoes, a Panama straw hat, and a well worn leather bound Bible, to accompany you on your strolls through the Highways and Byways of Insomnia City. So profound will be the respect of its erstwhile citizens, which of course is "richly deserved," that you will be guaranteed to be drafted by those seeking redemption, and proclaimed as the new Messiah, who transcends politics, answers to a higher calling, and has returned to lead his flock outta Babylon.Sello and I will be in the front row cheering you all the way, with fish broth in we belly, and a petit quart ah Rivers in we back pocket.