Run Sylvester Run: The unfortunate Life of Sylvester Giles

By Rodney Prescod

Run Sylvester Run: The Unfortunate Life of Sylvester Giles is the 7th short story of the first of five volumes of the collection entitled "The Chronicles of Bamboo Village". These stories are set in a fictitious dynamic Barbadian village stemming from the fertile imagination of the author. They capture the essence of the transition and transformation of the life and culture of Barbados from the 1950s until the present . Volume 1 is reminiscent of the 1950s to 1970.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Dec 30, 2023
• ISBN: 9781304760630

Book preview

Run Sylvester Run: The Unfortunate Life of Sylvester Giles

Written and edited by Rodney Prescod

Digital Edition

Copyright© 2023 Rodney Dac Prescod MBE

All rights reserved.

ISBN:978-1-304-76063-0

Our light shines when it is darkest.

R. Prescod

Foreword

Run Sylvester Run: The Unfortunate Life of Sylvester Giles is the 7th short story of the first of five volumes of the collection entitled The Chronicles of Bamboo Village. These stories are set in a fictitious dynamic Barbadian village stemming from the fertile imagination of the author. They capture the essence of the transition and transformation of the life and culture of Barbados from the 1950s until the present. Volume1 is reminiscent of the 1950s to 1970.

Run Sylvester Run: The Unfortunate Life of Sylvester Giles

SSsyyyyllllvvveesstterr!

- Yes please mummy!

- Ah tell yuh to hurry up n cum out dah bathpan ah wata, evabody else dun bade... yuh is a fish? Yuh ain goan hear lil boy, yuh goan feel yuh kno! His mother warned him.

- Mummy ah cummin out just now. He pleaded.

Sylvester was sitting in the galvanised bath-pan splashing and having a grand time. He had been in the water for over two hours, his skin had become very white and prune-like from the prolong time that he was constantly lathering with the Lifebouy soap, and then submerging himself to rinse it off.

The evening wore on, Sylvester continued his wash; teeth chattering and body shivering occasionally when a light breeze whisked across the opened yard. Dusk set in, still he splashed around in the bath-pan which now contained little water; but that did not faze him. He sat in it, his bottom now in full contact with the very cold metal, he was having a blast. His mother had left him to his own accord fully cognisant of the result of his disobedience.

- Oooooooo... oooooooo... mummy... mmuummm! Sylvester moaned and groaned as he struggled up the backstep and into the house.

- Wuh wron wid you? She asked, although already knowing the answer.

Sylvester stood feet widely apart; knees bent, pointing to his ballooned scrotum which hung like a weighted pendulum between his legs.

- Yuh see wuh ah tell yuh... Hard ears yuh won’ hear, own way yuh goan feel... Ah tell yuh cum outta dah wata eversince. Now yuh paying de price... Gllaaddsttooonnne!... Look in de medicine chest n bring dah Epson salts n soft candle fuh muh, please!

His older brother, Gladstone, hustled to his mother with the items.

- hhhhhaaaaaaaa, hhhhaaaaaaa … hhhaa...

- … Boy hushup yuh mout n go n pick two castor oil leaves fuh muh. His mother sharply interrupted him.

Gladstone disappeared through the back door. A few minutes later he returned with several leaves. Enid, their mother, quickly cleaned the leaves, and like a skilled apothecary made a poultice (with the soft candle, nutmeg powder and Epson salts). She placed it onto the leaves and then onto Sylvester swollen scrotum. She then converted piece of flour bag into a diaper and covered his private parts.

- Dah wud draw de cold n carwhey de swellin. Um is ah good ting wunna pun vacation or yuh wudda gotta crawl tuh get tuh school… causin yuh din stayin bout hey. She admonished him after his treatment.

Sylvester laboured bow-legged along the dimly lit narrow passage that separated the two small bedrooms. He tried to ease into the living-room where his seven siblings were gathered chatting lively in the warm glow of the lantern.

- looka ten-pound chicken! Shouted Gladstone, who had already relayed all the details to his other brothers and sisters. There was much laughter, which became even louder when his younger brother imitated his movements.

- LOOK! their mother’s voice thundered through the passageway into the drawing room. Why yuhall keepin all dah noise dis time ah de night… allyuh wash wunna feet an get in wunna bed!

- Yuh see… is you fault Gladstone. Protested Sylvester.

Woosh, woosh, two slippers found their way into the living room, one narrowly missing Gladstone, causing a stampede to the backyard.

Shortly afterwards, Sylvester and all his siblings were in bed; his sisters slept in their mother’s bedroom. His brothers and himself in the other room; there was one grass-filled mattress on which three of his brothers slept alternately ‘foot to head’, Sylvester usually curled up at the bottom of the mattress.

- look up at de wwiinnndddoooowww. Gladstone whispered in a spooky blood-curling voice.

Sylvester’s hair stood straight. He cringed and closed his eyes tightly, covering his face with his hands for reinforcement… but, found himself compelled to peep up at the opened aerial window; that kept air circulating in the room. He slightly spread his fingers to gander a peep.

- "I cud see he big red eeeyyyeeeeesss… he cumming fuh