Tony DeyalTODAY MY battery developed a terminal problem. It died and my car went with it, terminated with extreme prejudice. I thought of calling '999' but I have the devil's own luck. I might end up dialling '666' instead and the police car would come reversing to my aid. Or maybe the Pope.
I thought of calling the recent police search and seize 'Operation Anaconda'. Perhaps they could come and charge my battery. What for? That has not proven to be a problem for them so far. I was absolutely certain they would easily find a charge and make it stick.
I hesitated to call the Prime Minister because he would start a Commission of En-quiry and there are enough of them right now. Worse, if I said my name is Deyal, given the way our cell phones operate here in Trinidad, he would think I said Deyalsingh. The Opposition (not the phone company) would deem this to be interference and the Musilmeen would make a tape of it. For them it is as easy as EBC.
If I called the Leader of the Opposition, he would tell me that he was not the Leader of the Opposition and would probably offer me a Speaker (from the thousands of volunteers he has listed) when what I needed was at least a terminal and at most a battery. In any case, he no longer has power so he couldn't even give me a jump-start. He would probably spout his usual dogma about karma, or send some of his supporters from in front of the Red House. Since he needed a push more than I did, I decided to forego the phone call.
I later discovered I had to. While the cells in my battery seemed dead, the battery in my cell was also dead. I suppose that if I called former Attorney-General, Ramesh L. Maharaj, he would have given me the appropriate charge.
So, my other options being closed, I searched hopelessly for clues. It was all negative. Finally, I had a positive. It was a useful lead. It was a jump lead and I had a jump-start from a jumper cable.
It turned out eventually that the problem was indeed terminal. One of the lead bits that fits over the battery poles (what electricians would call a "female" as opposed to a "male" piece of equipment), a terminal in fact, seemed to have suffered from battery. Someone had hammered it too hard and it was broken. It was not making proper contact with the pole. The pole was not Alexander Graham Belovsky, who was the first telephone Pole and would have fixed my cell. Nor was it Leo or Wal. Neither was the electrician I sought out who thought it might be the battery and was Ever-ready to sell me one, seeing that a battery (several of which he had handy) would cost me about $300 up. The piece of lead (female) with installation was only 10 bucks. "Forget the battery," I said acidly.
I am not very good at automobile repairs. While I continue to assert that I can be good at whatever I undertake, I am not an undertaker for dead batteries or the vehicles they power. I am also very unlucky with them.
In Barbados I had a Moke a vehicle made of fibre-glass and without windows or doors. Every year of the three years I owned it the value of the vehicle went down and the insurance went up. Eventually, I sold the car to pay the insurance. The first time I went to change the oil, the mechanic said loudly, "Ef I was you, I would keep the oil and change the car."
The car I drive now was owned by a nymphomaniac who only used the back seat, or at least this is what the dealer told me.
Then I quickly discovered I had two problems with the car. The payments didn't stop and the car didn't start. Fortunately, I discovered a really good mechanic and I keep going back to him week after week. I also don't like washing the car. That's the only thing I am saving for a rainy day.
MARX
That is because I am also not good at making money. Karl Marx, the father of Communism and author of the famous seminal work on the subject, Das Kapital, was the same. In fact, it is said that his mother complained repeatedly, "Karl, why don't you stop writing about Kapital and start making some?" I suppose it has something to do with my morality, a virtue (if you believe President Robinson) I share in common with the party now in power in Trinidad. I am afraid that when I tell someone, "I am a millionaire, you know" and the person asks, "Honestly?", I would not know what to say next. I could imagine Manning or Panday in the same position. "I am Prime Minister," one says. "Honestly?" one asks. The rest is silence or "Do you have to bring that up?"
I am also not good at yard-work. While I believe in calling a spade a spade, forks are different and I don't give one for gardening. I believe if you give a weed an inch, it would take a yard. I don't mind if it takes my yard, so long as it leaves my bedroom and books alone. I also don't care if the grass is greener on the other side of the fence (as I keep telling my wife), our water bill is less. Where I live, I am surrounded by people who excel in yard-work and pyromania. They cut the grass and then set fire to it even though this is the dry season and it is illegal to do so without a permit. The San Fernando fire department, to which I have repeatedly complained, seems to believe that one house burnt is one less fire to extinguish. When people ask me how I get along with my neighbours, I suppose I would have to say, "Like a house on fire." While I don't mind them making ashes of themselves, I mind being the one to haul their ash out of my verandah or flush it out of my sinuses. To protect myself, I got fire and theft insurance. However, I discovered that the only way I can collect is if I get robbed during a fire. When I told that to one of my friends he said consolingly, "That is worse than arson, it is damn arson." Using that logic, I suppose if the home of my immediate maternal ancestor gets burned to cinders it would be mother arson.
Tony Deyal was last seen explaining the dent on the front of his car. He asked philosophically, "What good are bumpers if you don't use them for the purpose for which they were intended?"
