Island Songs by Alex Wheatle Page A

de Gold Coast or it coulda be Ghana
    But one day she skip church go ah forest full of wonder
    Nuh even de Maroons or Anancy would step der inna adventure
    Old Screwface set up him net an’ he did ah ketch her
    She lost her soul an’ not’ing she cyan remember
    Now her back is bent like de mountain der ah far off yonder
    Her face so full of wart, more dan de feaders ’pon ah rooster
    Her nose is so long dat John-crow coulda perch, res’ him wing an’ loiter
    Now she work ’pon spell to ketch anoder good sister
    So children beware yuh nuh stray an’ sight Old Mama Jeebah
    Fe yuh could be roastin’ ’pon ah spit ah Old Screwface fire .”
    Armed with two bottles of rum, Joseph and his family had ambled over to Neville’s bonfire, which was fifty yards away from the patriarch’s home. They had left Kwarhterleg who had complained of a sore throat but Joseph knew he had drank too much warm beer in the afternoon.
    They were accompanied by their neighbours, Miss Panchita, who was carrying her baby in a brace upon her back, and her husband Matthew. About forty-five adults were ringed around the fire, plus twenty or so excited children running here and there, most of them related to Neville in some way.
    Food was already being served and Hortense and Jenny enjoyedtheir starter of ‘star-apples’. This was followed by curried goat and rice, roasted snapper fish, ardough bread, all the fried dumplings they could eat, and, if there was any space left in their stomachs, a whole range of ripe fruits. Rum was flowing, loosening tongues and prompting courting couples to steal kisses. Elders paraphrased Biblical tales, adding their own spin and extravagances for dramatic effect and those who won the silent attention of the audience were rewarded with coins and rum toasts.
    Neville, the heart and soul of the party, looked upon his oldest grandson, David, with watering, red eyes. He burped rather loudly. “David! Nuh girl ah Claremont ah tickle ya fancy? Yuh is ah mighty fine looking young mon! Come tell me, David. Which fine Christian girl yuh ’ave ya eye ’pon? An’ don’t worry about wha’ ya mama an’ papa might say becah ya gran’papa is asking yuh. Now tell me, David. Why me don’t see yuh wid ah nice girl to embrace dis fine night? Me don’t waan to dead before yuh present me wid many great-gran’sons. Ah mon’s wealth is calculated by de amount of great-granson’s him seed produce. Don’t yuh know dat?”
    Hoots of laughter filled the red-night air. David, mortally embarrassed, struggled to find words. Joseph flashed him a fretful eye pass. Teenage girls feasted their eyes upon David’s handsome looks with relish, praying they wouldn’t be childless by the time they reached eighteen and branded a mule by their peers; most of their male counterparts had left Claremont so they felt David was a prize catch.
    “Gran’papa!” David finally answered. “Yuh know me well busy working me fader plot. Me don’t ’ave any time to court nice girl. An’ anyway, de girl who live ah Claremont dem so nice an’ sweet dat ah mon like me don’t really know how to choose! Mon, wha’ ah cruel tribulation fe ah humble young mon!”
    David’s courteous response was met with cheers, wolf whistles, claps and a clinking of rum bottles. Joseph smiled, realising his only son would handle himself well in the wide world. Yes, sa, he thought. David well ably wid him tongue.
    Three hours later Amy roused her husband from his dozing. Joseph forced open his heavy lids and in his blurred vision, saw thatmany of Neville’s male friends were laying horizontal amid the empty rum bottles upon the ground. The fire was flickering into death here and there. Women were taking their children home. Courting couples had already stolen away to the woods. Those who lived in warped wooden huts and had no land to till, carried away the left-over food. They didn’t have to ask for it.
    “Joseph! Joseph!” Amy called. “Wake up now mon! Yuh