Sample. Feel free to critique.
"Camoudie! Snake! Camoudie!"
"Where?"
"By the canal! A camoudie catch a goat! Y'all come quick before 'e swallow it!"
Brandishing a cutlass in the general direction, he loped away. Abandoned radios continued to blare Sunday morning calypso and East Indian music as women paused gossipping, men threw bone dominoes on boards and scurried away to retrieve weapons, and children secured marbles in their pockets, remembering positions in the mud and grass better than they would ever remember arithmetic and grammar. Others playing bumper-ball agreed tacitly on score and batting status and fielding positions before merging with the crowd surging behind the running man.
"Keep them children back! That camoudie catch one of them and they dead."
Sunday morning, with the majority of residents home and around, ready and waiting to mobilize at the least bit of excitement, was poor timing for the camoudie to strike. One man toted a spear, the head a ten-inch spike nail honed to a needle point and strapped to the shaft with layers of wire, twine, and cloth. Other men carried sharp cutlasses or stout staffs. Women trailing behind struggled to keep children at bay.
Saira and Sabrina weaved their way to the front of the group as the head of the camoudie whipped out from under the end of a staff, the wielder prancing around jabbing at the camoudie's head. Another man appeared with an eight-foot long pole, a short piece nailed at the top to form the left arm of a 'Y'. He skipped around and jammed the opening of the 'Y' just below the snake's head.
The first man with the staff ran to the other end and jumped on, trying to keep it still with his body-weight while grinding the end of the staff into the wriggling tail, succeeding only in enraging the reptile. He wobbled, fell off, and jumped on again, jabbing at the tail.
Saira stared at the twenty-foot long anaconda wrapped around the bleating goat, the snake's body thicker than her waist still crushing its victim while fending off attackers.
The man with the spear plunged it into the tail. The other man abandoned his staff, adding his hands to the shaft of the spear to help pin the beast while others hacked its body with cutlasses. One keenly honed blade slashed the goat's neck, almost severing the head. The wielder of that particular blade, the man who had raised the alarm, paused his efforts to look up at the crowd with a smirk. A few people laughed, conveying their intent to condone whatever division and award of the meat was forthcoming. Long before the camoudie ceased to wriggle, its victim was lifeless. Since the goat's owner wasn't nearby and no one knew who to contact, a few households supped on curried goat that evening.
The following day, the distressed teenager searching for the missing member of his flock was shooed away with warnings to take better care of his herd and to watch out for alligators and camoudies and to better not go blaming innocent people when his animals disappear.