Maureen Rampertab
IN a small settlement in the ancient county, deep in the countryside, where sugar-cane once grew, stood a striving community – the small neat houses, green pastures and clean flowing trench where boys swam and the black water creek beyond where the sugar boats passed- a testimony to the sweat of the immigrant brows and the churches, emblems of the beliefs of a people who came and a celebration of their culture, their lives, their language, a sweet blend of dialects to form the unique Creolese tongue.On a hot August day, a small group of teenage boys were gambling by a street corner, whilst one, a semi mentally challenged dougla boy, Lagadoo, was posted as a look out for the police jeep, at the sight of which he was told to whistle like a kiskadee. But after a short while, Lagadoo abandoned his post and started pelting mangoes from Aunty Galo’s mango tree, so no one saw the police jeep, until it was almost on top of them.
Lagadoo shouted, his hands and pockets filled with ripe and green mangoes,
“Run is de Police!” when the boys were already thrown into the jeep.
“Ahh now yuh gon holla,” Jeetendra, one of the gambling boys fumed.
“You, boy come here,” one of the Police officers said to Lagadoo, “You with them?”
“No, affisa,” Lagadoo said, offering the Police a mango. “Me nah know dem.”
“He lie affisa, is awe friend, he head nah too good,” Dharmendra shouted.
The police officer grabbed Lagadoo, who started to scream and kick and suddenly pretended to faint, but the Police officer still threw him in the jeep. The boys slapped him on his head and ears and he screamed even louder.
“Ow affisa, ow gawd, dem gon kill me, stap de jeep, gawd nah ready fuh me!”
“Shut up,” the police said, “and the rest of you sit still.”
At the station, they were put in the waiting area until the two young female officers were ready to book them. An old lady was reporting the theft of her chickens and had already given the police officers three different descriptions of the thief.

“Are you sure ma’am?” the officer asked

“Wah yuh ah try fuh tell me, Me nah see good?”

“Not really, but we need you to be sure before we arrest anyone.”
“Ah de same man who thief me red fowl-cack lass week. He wear a differen’ shut dis time, me wan he lack up”

The boys were getting impatient and Rajesh started to sing an Indian movie song, “Rang barse bheege chunar wali, rang barse—“

The old lady turned around, “Eh eh, ah who pickney ah sing so nice?”

“Me name Rajesh, nanny”

“Be quiet over there,” one of the officers said.

“Abe jus ah try to cheer up abeself, miss affisa.”

“No singing,” was the stern reply, “this is a Police station.”

“But da pickney can sing” the old lady said, “Me dance da tune ah plenty wedding house”

Rajesh started to sing again and the old lady, hands on hip, gyrated to the tune.

“Ok that’s enough!” the police officer said with a very stern voice. “Ma’am you can go home now and you,” she pointed to Lagadoo who sprang to his feet looking around wildly, “Come here”

Lagadoo shuffled over to the officer’s desk.

“What’s your name?” the officer asked.

“Lagadoo, miss affisa”

She looked at him curiously

“Spell that name,” she said

“L-a-g-g-a-d-d-t-t-o—-“

“Stop. What nonsense is that?”

“He neva been ah school” Jeetendra explained

“Okay, where do you live?”
“Near meh neighbah.”
“I want to know where you live, boy.”
“Ah tell yuh, near meh neighbah.”
The officer looked at him with increasing impatience but stayed calm knowing he was a mentally challenged boy.
“Okay, one more time, where does your neighbour live?”
“He ah live near me.”
The other boys were all snickering and the officer pushed back her chair and spoke threateningly,
“Maybe I should throw you in the lock ups!”
“No affisa,” Lagadoo cried, dropping to his knees
“Ah truth meh ah tell yuh!”
“Look, go and sit down” she said shaking her head and pointed to Jeetendra, “Come here young man, what’s your name?”
“Me name Jeetendra, Miss, yuh know de star baie in de movie, ah meh family da yuh know.”
“Really?” the two officers looked at each other, somewhat amused, “you don’t look like a movie star.”
“Ow gyal affisa, yuh gotta see me when ah dress up and show off meh dance styles.”
He tried to imitate the movie star’s dance moves and almost tripped over. He was sent to sit, not impressing the officers and Dharmendra was called.
“According to your name,” the younger officer said “You’re a star boy too?”
“Nah affisa, me nah wan star baie, me mudda give me dat name because ah meh handsome look, but yuh know something, yuh can be a star-gyal because yuh propa nice.”
“Na worry to he affisa, he like play fresh and he na wuk no way,” Rajesh objected, “Me ah de lover baie.”
And he broke into another song, “Hey Jai Jai Shiv Shankar—.” with Lagadoo dancing to the tune.
The officers held their heads, in frustration, not sure what to do with them, but a few moments later, the sergeant walked in. He took one look at his officers and the local show at the other end of the room and asked slightly puzzled.
“What do we have here?”

“An idiot, a movie-star and two lover boys, caught gambling”

He looked at the boys for a long moment, who were trying to look as innocent as they could, then he said, “Put them to weed and clean the compound, then let them go.”
“Thank yuh, affisa sir, thank yuh!” the boys said, relieved not to be thrown in the lock-ups, but before anyone could move, Lagadoo ran and jump on the sergeant to hug him in thanks and knocked the man down.
“Oh gawd!” the boys gasped in horror.
They ran to pick up the sergeant, “Sarry sir, sarry”
The sergeant pushed them off and looked so angry the boys cringed. Lagadoo, though a retard, knew what would happen and he rolled on the ground wailing, almost knocking one of the female officers down, holding his head.
“Me go dead now, ooow me go dead! Meh fada, meh ah come see yuh in heaven.”
“Yuh fada gan to hell, fool, because he thief too much,” Jeetendra said.
“Affisa aw suh he fada dead, when de Police been come fuh arrest he because he thief he neighbah fowl.” Rajesh said with real dread in his voice, “Do something affisa befuh he dead tuh”
The three officers looked at each other fearfully and pushed the boys hurriedly out of the station.
“Go, you’re free.”
The boys laughed all the way home and Lagadoo, who had caused the entire incident, became the unlikely hero of the day.