Fathers-in-law

Hartley Neita, Contributor

A FRIEND of mine once told me he had decided not to date any girl whose father was alive.

"They hate the thought of a stranger taking away the affection of their daughters. And they will do anything to destroy any such relationship," he said.

I took a step backwards as, according to tradition, the dragon as far as young men were concerned was the prospective mother-in-law. She, they said, was the one who warned her daughter not to date a man blacker than herself.

"Find a nice brown, or white, or Syrian man, and put some milk in you' coffee, girl. Give me pretty grandchildren. Don't give me no flat nose, big lip pickney, you hear."

Prejudice

"That may be so," my friend said. "But any serious black man can charm any woman, no matter her prejudice. But God help you with the father!"

Fathers, he said, had destroyed every relationship he had. He gave me an example. From the very first time he visited the first girl he was dating seriously he realised he had a problem. He had been taking her to the matinee shows at the Carib for the past few weeks. Afterwards he walked with her to the intersection near her home where they would kiss briefly. She insisted on walking to her home alone as she was not ready for questions from her parents.

So, there he was now on this Sunday evening, knocking on the gate. A man opened the door.

"What do you want?" the man shouted. There was a frown creasing his face between his eyebrows. "Is Elaine at home, sir?" he asked.

"Yes, and who are you?"

"Please sir, tell her it's Marlon."

"Marlon who?"

"Johnson, sir".

The man turned his back and shouted, "Elaine, a boy on a bicycle here to see you."

She came to the gate very timidly. He walked with her to the verandah. Elaine introduced them, and the questions started.

Where do you work? Where did you go to school? How old are you? What church you attend? What work your parents do? Where do you live?

He answered the questions which came in rapid succession, one by one, resting his weight on one foot and then the other. Finally, her father left them and went inside.

"That boy outside who come to see Elaine is just a Civil Servant," he heard him saying loudly to his wife. "The boy don't have a car. Him would have to take her out in mini-bus. My girl must have more ambition than that. I have to speak to her when him gone."

Elaine's eyes were damp when he said good night shortly after.

A year later he was designated a travelling officer and was given a loan to buy a car. Soon after he was driving near Elaine's home and saw a man standing at the bus stop. He looked familiar.

He stopped and reversed. "Can I help you sir?" he asked. "Thanks," the father said and opened the door.

"Your face is familiar," he said as they drove off.

"Yes sir. I'm Marlon Johnson, the Civil Servant who came to your home one evening."

They drove in silence after that.

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