Under the Ackee Tree
JONATHAN ESCOFFERY
If you’re the only son of uptown Kingston parents, then you will have options. You can take Daddy’s Datsun or Mummy’s new ’68 VW and fly past street urchins who sell bag juice and ackee at red lights down Hope Road to pick up Reyha or Sanya or Cherie.
If a Reyha you pick, you will carry she to the drive-in where you can stroke she hair while unoo watch Bond ’pon big screen. Reyha’s family own the bread shop on Barbican Road where she work most afternoons, and you like sniff she hair since it always smell of coco bread or spice bun.
Is Cherie you like slow whine plenty nights down a New Kingston, whether Epiphany or Dizzy. She tease you, you see? Push up hard ’pon you in corners and grind she pelvis into yours before she laugh and push away.
A Sanya you like chat bad word with, so she you take a Hellshire to sit seaside and nyam escovitch snapper and chat bare fuckery till them tell unoo, You no see the sun gone and is time fi move you batty?
If you no careful, life go so carefree, till you daddy say, Time to get serious, boy, and stop all the play-play. Time to get job. Time to be a man.
If him say so, tell him say you wan’ go a foreign fi art school and learn fashion design, and don’ him see how your sketchbook full up with concepts and him can’ see you stylee?
But if you say that, him will answer, Fashion? A my son a si’ down an’ sew panty an’ frock? Wha’ kind of little-gal fantasy that?
But, Daddy, man in Europe study fashion from time, you will tell him.
Me know, him will say. Batty man.
You’ll ask him, How you can be so small mind? You’ll puff up your chest and pace the veranda and wan’ fling him furniture, because him can’ beat you like him did beat you when you were a pickney.
Even he know him can’ discipline you like before, so him say it calm: No bother with no foo-foo art school. If you can’ be serious, you go work for me. And if you can’ do that, you can leff me house.
And it don’ feel then like you have too many options at all.
So you start oversee him construction jobs, though is little you know ’bout how man build house. Mostly, is make sure man show up on time and don’ leave early. Mostly, is hunt worker down at bar after them disappear for lunch. When you run them down, the worker man malice you and call you rich man’ boy, though your daddy’ business not so big that him wealthy.
You don’ like the job, but your father say, Since when man supposed to like job?
But him pay you and let you use him work vehicle and soon after you can afford apartment in Mandeville, and after that you feel large.
If you carry on like before with Reyha and Sanya and Cherie, is Sanya who will come beat down your door and cuss you while Cherie sneak out back. You’ll make promise and beg you a beg for she hand in marriage one time. Is Sanya you love, like you love bread pudding and stew, which is more than you have loved before. You love that when she walk with she brass hand in yours, you can’ tell where yours ends and hers begins. You love that where you see practical solution to the world’ problem, Sanya sees only the way things should be; where you see a beggar boy in Coronation Market, Sanya sees infinite potential.
Most of all, is she smile you fall for. Sanya’ teeth and dimples flawless and you hope she’ll pass this to your pickney, and that them will inherit your light eyes, which your father passed down to you.
Sanya’ tall. You tall to rass.
She quick-tongued, and you passed seven A levels. So your children will be bright.
You only hope them get she teeth.
If you marry she, you will have garden wedding, and you will design your suit and pay tailor to stitch it. You will send out invitation, and it will seem like the whole of Kingston will come celebrate unoo and see how you and Sanya styling. Later,
