Kimmisha Thomas

Saneera watched Jaillin disappear beneath the graceful, feathery bamboo. That girl was strange, walking in muck along the river! Back from university in Jamestown, Saneera wanted her to teach at the school until she left for work. The devil finds work for idle hands. Even in this day and age, Saneera clung to traditional ideas of marriage. Jaillin was a good girl, always quiet and now even more so, but ... these young people nowadays.

A flash of red caught the corner of her eye; Damon was passing the gate. Her heart skipped a little, and she wanted to call out to him, but Ma Percy was on her verandah, and people too fast, yes.

Saneera Deenhan was big in St. Mary, the only female JP for miles around. Her manifesto was based on equality, economic, racial, and religious. Her line was, 'We are post-colonial peoples, we all building one nice community; work together, educate the children and worship in our own way; no discrimination!'

Everybody voted for the 'orange' socialist party. Still, Negroes married Negroes and East Indian descendants were sent 'home', or scouted the island; even in this day and age ...

Despite her traditional ideas, Saneera felt that a woman should be well educated. Jaillin went and studied urbanand regional planning. Saneera thought she should have chosen something more useable, like medicine or business, but she hadn't commented.

A slate gray cloud moved in and covered the sun. Saneera went to get the clothes. The rain came down with a whoosh as she got to the kitchen door. 'Lar'!' She thought. 'An' Jaillin still down the river!' Ten minutes passed; then the kitchen door banged. Jaillin was soaked to the skin. Her bright orange and yellow paisley silk clung to her firm, uptilted breasts; her yellow skirt twisted wetly around her slim legs.

'Girl! You want to dead lef' mi? What you do by the river, though?'

'The walk peaceful, plus is a follow up to ecology a' took at UJ,' Jaillin told her. 'They say the state of the environment reflects the state of the population's well-being.'

'Dat sound sensible, but killing you-self to look if fish healthy an' trees not dyin' won't help anybody.' Saneera rubbed the girl's head roughly with a towel.

The next morning she saw Damon, heading to work at the chocolate factory.

'Morning, Miss D! Breakfast done?'

'Yes; you legs too short, you miss good fry dumpling.'

'A did tink roti was what Indians like ...'

'Me is Jamaican too, you know, bwoy!' She ventured closer to the gate.

He laughed; his even, white teeth flashed in the sun. Unlike the other young men in the village he never wore cutoffs and went barechested. He was educated; an engineer. The boy sweet bad.

'See you Wednesday at the Youth Club, Miss D!' He moved off.

She waved carefully; the black women guarded him militantly. Did he know?

Friday, the power went. Anxious, Saneera called Ma Laing's house and asked Damon if he could bring her a quart of kerosene.

His footsteps sounded clearly. She opened the kitchen door and pounced. Clinging to his thin cotton shirt, the 40-odd-year-old woman kissed the man, two years younger than Jaillin, full on the mouth.

'Miss D, wha' you do?!'

'Damon, you know a' like you bad, don't say no. Nobody won't know!'

Damon was already outside. 'No, Miss D!'

He ran. He ran without cease to the cacao tree by the river. His chest heaving, he clasped his beloved Jaillin in his arms. She had been waiting patiently underneath the thin crescent moon.

END

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