Di Taxi Ride and Other Stories

By Brenda Barrett

Di Taxi Ride and Other Stories is a collection of twelve witty and fast paced short stories. Each story tells of a unique slice of Jamaican life. The stories include: a typical Jamaican taxi ride, told through the eyes of a returning resident; a visit by a business professional to a crooked obeah woman; a date gone awry; a wedding, where the grooms four baby mothers decide to show up; and the story of two enterprising young men, who decided to set up a church to make some money...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brenda Barrett
• Release date: Jun 10, 2012
• ISBN: 9789769548657

Brenda Barrett

Books have always been a big part of life for Jamaican born Brenda Barrett, she reports that she gets withdrawal symptoms if she does not consume at least two books per week. That is all she can manage these days, as her days are filled with writing, a natural progression from her love of reading. Currently, Brenda has several novels on the market, she writes predominantly in the historical fiction, Christian fiction, comedy and romance genres.Apart from writing fictional books, Brenda writes for her blogs blackhair101.com; where she gives hair care tips and fiwibooks.com, where she shares about her writing life.

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Di Taxi Ride and Other Stories

By

Brenda Barrett

Published by Jamaica Treasures at Smashwords:

Copyright 2010 by Brenda Barrett

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Di Taxi Ride

Dear Patsy,

I just got back from Jamaica.

Girl, it was a wonderful experience; I especially loved seeing the family after so many years. Twenty years was indeed a long time and the Jamaica that I once knew, is not the same.

Everything is so modernized, everything but the transportation system.

I was staying with Aunt Bridgette and her family in Savanna-la-mar, the capital of Westmoreland when I decided to go see Grandpa; who is now living in Santa Cruz.

My cousins wanted to take me, but I said, I know where Santa Cruz is, all I'll have to do is just grab a cab. After much arguing, they acquiesced.

Besides, I wanted the experience of traveling this scenic country alone. I did not want to feel like a tourist in my own country. So they dropped me at the bus park in Savanna-la-mar.

It was a balmy Monday morning. The bus park was very busy with the hustle and bustle of passengers as they alighted and boarded the buses and taxis.

I straightened my spine and adjusted my dark glasses as I entered the fray of human activity.

There were ‘booths' lined up at the side of the park and extending as far as the eye could see. They advertised and sold food, drink, and clothes. It had all the makings of a grand market.

The buses and taxis were lined up according to the places they were going, while the drivers lounged at the side of their vehicles. Some of them were talking, eating and even shouting at each other.

The ‘packers’, as I later heard they were called, coerced, begged and even forced people to go into the various vehicles.

Girl, I was not even in the park for half a minute, when I saw a fight over rights to a passenger. One packer was enticing a lady to go into his bus, while another tried doing the same. They each grabbed the poor lady’s hand and started to pull her in opposite directions.

Let mi guh, the lady shouted, mi seh fi let mi guh.

They totally ignored her, while they quarreled and cursed each other.

Then one of them said, Lady, nuh Mobay yuh going?

No, the poor lady replied angrily. I am just coming from Mobay.

They both dropped her hands abruptly, and the lady fell, cursing and swearing.

Yuh old hog yuh, she shouted, why unnu can’t leave people alone.

Montego Bay!

Santa Cruz!

Black River!

The packers shouted as they rushed toward anyone entering the park.

Sometimes up to six of them surrounded one passenger; shouting the names of places in the passengers’ face. There were a few passengers who refused to tell where they were going and suffered for it, as the packers would start to curse and call them names. Girl, I don’t know how I was overlooked for as long as I was, probably because everyone was watching the debacle with the passenger who fell.

That was not my fortune for long, as a Rastafarian man in a soiled white shirt approached me. He was shouting place names as he approached, Montego Bay!? Santa Cruz!?

Completely forgetting that I was told by my cousins not to talk with my accent, I said, where are the Santa Cruz taxis please?

It was as if the entire park came to a standstill.

The guy, in the dirty white shirt, immediately grabbed my hands and snarled at the other men, who were advancing on me as if they saw the Holy Grail.

Mi si har fus, said my new companion, as he pushed and prodded his way through the crowded throng.

I clutched my purse for dear life as they shouted unintelligible names of places at me. Meanwhile, I struggled to take my hands from the vice-like grip of the packer.

Let me alone, I shouted to the man, but he only gripped my hand tighter, it seemed as if he had suddenly developed a hearing impediment.

Lady, he said turning to me, his dirty locks almost brushing my face, yuh want to hire a car or drive wid others, he finally took his paws off my hands.

I felt humiliated and just wanted to go back to Bridgette’s house and wait until my cousins returned, to get a lift with them to Santa Cruz.

What made me think that I should travel alone?

Si di taxi dem deh, he said, as we approached a group of taxis. Travel wid Gussie, him drive good, he said pointing to a middle-aged man with a wide smile, all ‘im want is one more passenger.

The taxi men, like predators, started advancing and shouting in a chorus when they saw me.

Two more to go!

Mi want one!

A ready mi ready!

I looked from vehicle to vehicle.

Gussie already had one person in the car, other taxis had three or four, so I chose Gussie’s vehicle, anticipating a comfortable ride. Besides, he said he was ready.

Yuh naw give mi something fi help yuh out? asked the packer, as he walked beside me.

Something? I asked incredulously.

Yeah, bout ten US for dem service ya.

I was about to question this when Gussie walked up to him and said, guh weh, yuh tief yuh, the packer slunk away.

Go to the front, he instructed me, smiling.

Would you like a charter?

No thanks, I said, wondering what a charter was.

The sun was shining directly in the front seat when I sat down, and I anticipated that the driver would be coming after me.

However, I was surprised when I looked around, and he was nowhere to be seen. The sun continued to pelt me, and I glanced at my watch.

Where is the taxi driver?

The lady in the back seat started to hum. Here I was, toasting in the front seat of a taxi, with off-key humming in the back; I was irritated to the limit.

Then the taxi man returned with four people, he must have been gone for more than twenty minutes.

Where was he going to put the four people, plus the two of us already in the car?

Small up unnu self, he said grinning.

Oh No, Oh no, I said to him, as he flung himself into his seat and slammed the door.

Lady, he said, as if speaking to a mentally impaired person, I ask if you want a charter, you said no, so just small up yuh self so we can leave.

I was undecided, should I take another taxi and wait for another half an hour or should I just stay. I waited a fraction too long; the passenger door was yanked open and a lady, bordering on obesity, looked inside.

Mi can’t hold, Gussie man, she whined to the taxi driver.

Gussie put a cushion between the seats, over the emergency hand brake and instructed me to, dress up.

Dress up? I asked him, clueless as to what he was talking about.

Siddung pon dis, he said pointing to the cushion.

By now I was speechless. The man was serious; he wanted me to sit with the overweight lady in the front.

As he instructed, so I did. I discarded all dignity and self-preservation and sat on the cushion, while the larger portion of the woman was parked on me.

I could not put it any other way; she was sitting in my ribs, and I could hardly breathe. She smelled decidedly fishy; each time she moved her body, a fresh scent of fish would hit me, while I struggled to inhale.

Gussie roared out of the bus park, and I clutched the dashboard for dear life as he turned a corner. The lady in the front with me just rolled with the corner. It's as if she wanted to crush me to death.

Turning to her, Gussie asked, What’s up Miss Ellen?

Nothing much; yuh hear seh Trevor tief the pardner money and gone a St. Ann, gone hide out.

Gussie looked shocked at this statement, and the car swerved in the road as he seemed to gather his thoughts.

Obviously, they had a common pool in which they saved their money, and the banker ran away with the lump sum.

Gussie was so shocked that his feet went straight to the floor and the gas pedal under it; we were well over 100 km by now. He swerved from potholes and with tires squealing he took the corners.

My life flashed before my eyes. I started thinking about you, the kids and how I’d never get to see grandfather again, even after being so close to him.

Then miraculously, Gussie slowed down long enough to say, is twenty thousand dollars in the pardner fi mi yuh nuh.

A tell yuh, Miss Ellen replied. A me did have di last draw, so mi nuh si a dime of dat money, and the fish business not so wonderful right now you know.

Gussie swore and swore and Miss Ellen swore even more.

I clutched the dashboard breathlessly; as Miss Ellen was not in the least bit concerned that I was practically dying under the weight of her bulk.

Then just when I thought that things could not get worse, Gussie turned on the radio.

What started as a taxi ride quickly became a dancehall session, the passengers in the back seat started to sing along with the music.

Gussie and Miss Ellen were obviously determined that they would forget their woes in this manner, as Miss Ellen said to Gussie, tun it up some more nuh Gussie man.

Girl, the car was reverberating with the heady sound of reggae music. Miss Ellen's fish scent was killing me, and the driver was speeding as if driving an emergency vehicle.

Gussie yuh nuh have no Elephant Man? A young man Di Taxi Ride 17

on the back seat asked.

I was perturbed.

Who or what was Elephant Man?

And where would Gussie have this thing?

I was soon to find out