Real Life Gorgi Porgi, Book 3

By George Hodge

I was a real life Gorgi Porgi who was born kicking and screaming in 1942 in a small village in Anguilla in the Caribbean. Born into a world of war (World War 2), rationing,drought, famine, superstition, poverty and marital tension, my life was not off to a good start.

However, as a boy growing up, I played baby house until I realised what I was doing - kissing the girls and later running away!

I invite you, in my initial five book series, to try to feel the pains; and, experience the joys and sorrows, the failures and successes, the hardships and the good times which I did until 1959.

• Language: English
• Publisher: George Hodge
• Release date: May 1, 2016
• ISBN: 9781310177170

George Hodge

Born in Anguilla in the Caribbean in 1942, I have been lover of words from very early, playing with them in the dirt, on sand and on all types of paper, including brown cement bag.During my university years (1963-66) in Barbados, I was lucky to get short stories published in the leading newspaper. Titles include “The crane lift which was to be his last” and “The day the topless came to town”.In 1970, I completed a full novel with the same name; and, proceeded to write the play shortly thereafter. Unfortunately, both manuscripts were lost in a hurricane.If you google Anguilla Spoken Word, from 1:42 into the video, you will see me, in my golden years, breaking my public speaking phobia, I being the second guest presenter.I invite you to read and enjoy my salvaged poetic pieces. If you feel satisfied, please spread the word; and, also look out very soon for my biography and other works.

Book preview

Real Life

Gorgi Porgi

Book 3

By George Hodge

Contents

Foreword

Chapter 1 - George the dancer!

Chapter 2 - Bird hunting

Chapter 3 - Kite flying

Chapter 4 - Shopping with Grandma!

Chapter 5 - Shoes

Chapter 6 - Serenading

Chapter 7 - Face to face with a big one!

Chapter 8 - Ro Zee’s wedding

Foreword

I consider it essential to provide a disclaimer right at the start of my novel which is set in an imaginary island in the Caribbean that I chose to call Angri-la.

Why Angri-la? Because it denotes the tensions and the hardships experienced, over the course of centuries, by those who settled, were born or lived there.

All characters, events and circumstances are fictional; and, are intended to bear absolutely no resemblance to any known person living or dead; or, to any event or any circumstance that might really have happened.

It might be perceived that, in some cases, there is, indeed, a resemblance; but, in each, it will be a mere matter of coincidence; for, I tried my best to paint personalities and scenarios to appear as being real.

Happy reading.

George Hodge

Chapter 1 - George the Dancer

Gorgi Porgi! Gorgi Porgi!, some boy shouted in the school yard during my first ever recess.Nobody had ever called me that; but, I knew Sil Via’s husband had such a similar sounding nickname. He lived nearby; and, could have been passing by on the road; so, I thought the boy was calling out to him!

It was a boy who was also in my Junior Standard class. He had heard my name called out by Teacher Day Zee. And, so it was that he hailed me; I waved back; and, that was that; but, the nickname stuck.

It stayed with me all throughout primary school. I was the butt of the joke Gorgi Porgi kissed the girls; and, made them cry; and, that I, having done so, would each time run away!

At that time, I was not guilty of kissing; but, I was of running away from the girls! I had the looks, the height; and, apparently, whatever it was that the girls liked and wanted; for, it soon became clear to me that even little girls look for and fall for certain traits in little boys. It seemed to me, even then, that it was instinctual with them.

I soon found out that there were patches of bush around the school into which both boys and girls my age and older would sneak; and, they would try to do what they had become accustomed to seeing the birds and the bees do; something that, by this point in our young lives, we had so often already seen the fowls, the pigs, the donkeys, the cows, the sheep, the goats, the lizards and the dogs do!

When families are living off the land, they are, invariably, close to Mother Nature; so, from very early in their lives, children see and learn important things about life and living. It is as though they live in tandem with Nature itself.

So, from small I, personally, observed that sex seemed to come quite naturally to the creatures around us; though, what we little children used to see the dogs do, did not; for, it was so awkward looking and revolting!

So, we saw the revolting; and, we saw the awkward; but, we also had some fun watching; and, the fun was not limited to that we got through observing the animals or the birds; for, have you ever seen a little boy and a little girl sitting knees to knees; and, trying to do it? Well I have many times; and, each time, I had to - not rebuke them; but, to shake my head and smile!

So, what the few had begun in their villages, some would naturally continue at school; and, some who had not yet started, would be enticed and influenced to do so; for, school is an immersion and transformational place.

Against this backdrop, you can see how my name would have instantly earned me the notoriety of being a brave Valentino (to venture to kiss the girls); and, having accomplished this, to act as though I was shy or a coward (in running away).

I certainly was no Valentino; though, I must admit that I was shy; but, was quite sure of my sexuality (as you will see when you read the Home yard stories and Sexploits chapters in future ebooks in this 5-book series).

For sure, harassment did not come mostly from the girls. I came, instead, from boys who were just teasing; but, more so, from those boys and girls who wanted to annoy and frustrate me; and, get a kick out of so doing; and, from those who wanted to get back at me for God knows what.

Maybe, those in the last group did not like my aura; or, the fact that I seemed bright; or, that I made and sold the best tops; or, maybe, they felt that I was coward; or, that I seemed shy; or, that I seemed like the perfect target to pick on; and, that they could get away with it.

For my part, I could never get away from being called Gorgi Porgi; for, the branding and the jokes followed me to high school. A couple of my perennial pestering peers made sure that I would not escape.

Yet, it was not Gorgi Porgi but, rather, The Dancer! that has withstood the test of time; and, has vaulted me into the fond memories of thousands since the late 1940s (but, while the Angri-la memories will be related here, the regional and international dancing will come in another series).

The Dancer alias came from very early as a regular compliment from those who saw me do my thing, from infancy, at Grandma’s; and, if it were you, wouldn't you have been surprised; and, also besides yourself; if, persons - seeing you dance for the very first time - would come up to you; and, would greet you with The Dancer!

Well, that is what would actually happen pretty well everywhere and every time I danced anywhere; so, there had to be something special about my dancing; or, I must have possessed some extraordinary skills and abilities that manifested themselves therein.

In the very first chapter of Book 1, I related how I came into the world screaming and kicking; and, how I was instantly immersed into; and, baptised by scratch band music.

Just being facetious, while Pa, in particular, was pulling his hair out in utter frustration; maybe, I was crying because I could hear the music so close by; but, could not get up and dance to it; so, I screamed my out of my own frustration that I couldn’t; but, my constant barrage of kicks were, in truth and essence, dance moves; just that the adults could and did not see or interpret them as such!

Continuing in this vein, of course, my initial screaming and kicking were just my natural reaction to the fact that I had made it safe into this world; for, after a full nine months of confinement - isn’t it that what they called it? - who would not want or be in a hurry to stretch his or her legs; or, to make a big bawl out to clear the lungs; and, to let the whole world know that you have arrived at long last?

That’s exactly what I did; for, it was the natural thing that all or most babies do; and, regarding such, I related in Book 1 that I did see Ma’s midwife, Vic Kee, smack my baby sister, Amabel, on her bottom in November 1945 to make her cry, because she had been an exception.

While not screaming, she must have also emerged kicking; for, from very early, she, too, began to show that she would, also, become a very good dancer.

Now, are you willing to make a guess as to the possible number of impromptu and planned parties that could have been kept at Grandma’s over five years? I can’t and won’t; but, you would have to chance it; and, agree with me that it had to be a great number; for, there’s an assumption that people party and dance more during hard times than other times.

Factor in the following; and, it becomes very easy to see and understand how it could have been the