COFFEE ANYONE?

The bright moonlight seemed to reach every corner of the small country of Silver Stream. The stream mining through the centre of the village seem to glitter in the brilliance it reflected. Dogs barked and howled and night creatures were busy.

Near the back of the village was the home of the Gouveia family. They were the only Portuguese people living in the village which was inhabited by East Indians, Negroes and “Douglas.” Everyone knew everyone so there were no conflicts.
Paul and Beatrui had been living in Silver Stream for four years. They had one daughter, Mary and were expecting their second child. Paul was a minibus driver and Beatriu an accountant. They lived simply but happily.
One good thing about the Gouveias was that they loved to plant. Their yard had an assortment of trees and vegetables. At the back were the coconut, cane and several coffee trees, which were the pride and joy of Paul.
You see Paul’s grandfather had planted the coffee and spent plenty of time caring for it. Months before he died he had hung a hammock in the shade of the coffee trees and would spend most of the day there reading or snoozing. After his death the trees had been generally neglected.
The door of the small cottage swung open and Mary emerged into the moonlight, making straight for the latrine. You could detect some urgency in her movement and she made the last five metres in a dash. When she exited twenty minutes later she looked much calmer.
As she strolled leisurely to the back door her eyes traversed the yard taking in every detail. It was beautiful in the silvery (moon stream)
Her eyes rested on the cluster of coffee trees and then her steps faltered and stopped. Someone or something was moving there. She stared trying to make out who or what it was. Suddenly a loud rustling came, frightening her and a tree shook as if being emptied of ripe fruits. She screamed at the top of her ten-year lungs and made it to the back door in Olympic time. There she ran swiftly to her mother, who was charging out to meet any challenge.
CRASH!
They both ended up in an untidy heap, Mary untangled herself and ran inside. Her mother followed, angry eyes flashing.
“Why you screaming like a mad woman girl!”
“A… a…a… jumbie under de coffee trees!”
“Nonsense!”
“Fo true, I see it and it moving bout.”
“Show me!”
Now, Ms. Gouveia expected her daughter to go with her to the source of her fear. Mary was having none of it. She opened her eyes until they were large and round, set her jaws firmly and refused to leave the sanctuary of the kitchen.
Beatrui sighed and headed out the back door to investigate. She thought that Mary had only succeeded in frightening herself to death. It must be a leaf or branch moving in the strong breeze. She stopped in the middle of the backyard and looked casually around and saw nothing. Now Beatriu was 45 but kept that a closely held secret. She was bigger than she wanted to be, weighing 201 pounds. She was accustomed to sitting at a desk all day and so her movement had become somewhat lazier.
SWOOSH!
Beatrui spun around and there was nothing.
SWISH!
Beatrui pivoted the other way round and still there was nothing.
Rustle! Rustle! Rustle!
Now all the coffee trees were shaking madly. Beatrui still remembers the jump of this day. As big and heavy an out of exercise as she was, she jumped more than ten yards and trembling into the open doorway. Mary shut it tightly behind her.
“See! I told you!”
“Something bad outside mummy!”
Beatrui got up from the cold wooden floor and shook her confused head in amazement. There actually was someone or something out there. She peeped through a crack in the window blind and surveyed the coffee trees but saw nothing.
CRACK!
CRUNCH!
CRACK!
CRACK!
Someone or something was walking on the dry coffee beans and making the noise she was hearing. Beatrui grabbed Mary and retreated to her room. They would wait it out there.
Paul came home after midnight, tired and frustrated. He had a bad day on the road. Beatrui told him everything and he listened and spoil smiled. He would take care of this swiftly. Strolling purposefully outside, he set his course directly for the coffee trees. He entered this shade and stopped. There was silence.
Looking around, he realised how unkempt the area had become. Dead leaves, dry coffee beans and branches were scattered all around. He turned to return to the house.
CRUNCH!
Paul froze.
Maybe it was the sand he made walking on the debris. He moved again.
CRACK! CRUNCH!
This was not what he had expected. The noise was much louder that his lone footsteps.
CRACK! CRUNCH!
Paul was now officially scared. You see, after the last stop Paul had pretended to walk but had frozen with his feet inches from the ground.
CRACK! CRUNCH!
That was enough confirmation for Paul. He took off like a CAL flight to J .F. K. Imagine his embarrassment when he rushed in and slammed the door shut behind him, panic written all over his face. This was quickly transmitted to the two people he cared about the most.
He had to go back.
Grabbing a torchlight and a Bible, he charged back to the coffee spot. He halted in the midst of the trees and glared around him daring anything or anyone to challenge him. But there was silence.
Paul smiled. He must have imagined it all. He turned around in an attempt to retrace his steps.
WACK!
Something hit him across his back. It felt like a whip. He had a few poured on him by his grandfather, so the sensation was familiar.
PLY!
This one was across his legs. He turned angrily swinging wildly at nothing.
“I not afraid of you! Get out of me yard!”
It was as if a safety value was released. Lashes rained down from every direction including above. Paul howled in terror and made a run for the door. Coffee pods, beans and branches assaulted him and hastened his journey. Now he was not ashamed to tumble into the backdoor and have his wife shut quickly behind him. In his haste to escape the beating he had dropped the torchlight and Bible. He would retrieve them tomorrow. He and his family retired for the night. There would be little sleep in that house.
Sometime during the early morning hours Paul fell into a troubled sleep. He was asleep in the old sofa when the lashes rained down on him. He put his hand up and looked around for a place to escape. There was none. His grandfather was giving him one of the many trashing he had received.
”Dat is how you go gat de yard looking!”
Paul brain reeled in confusion. “Clean up my place or else!”
As suddenly that it had begun the beating ended. Paul came awake with a start. He now understood what had to be done.
The next morning instead of doing the Saturday market shopping, the family cleaned the yard. Paul paid special attention to the backyard and focused on the coffee plants. By midmorning all was done. The yard looked cleaner than it had for months.
That night there was peace in the house. Next day Mary announced to everyone at the breakfast table that she had spoken to grandpa Joe. He told her he was happy about the coffee and could sleep better there. Paul understood and made a silent promise to keep the coffee spot clean.

(By Neil Primus)

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