Crekateh

By Daryll Goodchild

“Always diggin’, diggin’ in people trench. Why yuh nuh move from hey, eh boi? Get out yuh dutty, stinkin’ self from de dutty, stinkin’ trench!” Norman screamed at the hunched little brown man until he appeared apoplectic in his fury. ”Ah warrnin yuh Crekateh, doan come back hay!”

Crekateh, as people called him, shouldered his salt bag full of the fragile snails that were the staple of his diet. For him, it was a competition with the hawks that swooped down into muddy drains, canals and trenches, stealing away tomorrow’s meal or tonight’s feast. It was also a battle with man, who greedily safeguarded the things he saw as worthless anyway. He was quick when he needed to be, but otherwise Crekateh was as slow as his prey. Of course, if he managed to snag a few houri, hassa and patwa, he wouldn’t give up the chance of it, but there was a limited window of opportunity before someone discovered him in front of their yard, scrounging in the mud, and chased him with angry yells, stones and the occasional cutlass.

But that was another story.

The little boys on the block were scolded time and again for picking trouble with Crekateh, who was known to be the harmless beggar soul of the community. The kind of poor that was willing to work before stealing, and the kind who would tip their hat to say a greeting with a smile and not even ask you for a dollar.

Rumour had it that Crekateh had hoity-toity family that living in ’Merica. And who used to visit the old plantation house at the head of the street. The same house with the whitewashed fence and the peeling wood paint back in the days… And they used to bring ‘progs’ on special occasions.

“He’s only look suh,” remarked Ole Gyul one afternoon to the group of boys taunting Crekateh from afar. Ole Gyul was an elderly woman. She was of indeterminable age, and had been old when the boys’ parents had been growing up, so no one disrespected her at all.

If you wanted to know something about when the community got started up, she was the one to go to, and if you felt you had to be related to somebody elsewhere, she could tell you that too. “The boy had nuff brights in he head back in he time. Is drugs gah he suh, yuh hear meh? Is drugs…” She shook her head and peered over her thin-rimmed spectacles at the pitiable state of the man before her as he shuffled back to his self-constructed hovel.

“Shane! I know you muddah ain gon waan you on no road when she ain deh home, pass quick and ketch house. You too Sidwell… Hi-yagguh!” She made a noise as if she would’ve taken a belt to them if she still had the energy.

“Crekateh,” she called out to him when the boys had cleared off.

“Yea deh Granny,” he responded, shuffling closer. “Thanks.”

She ignored his appreciation, as far as she knew, nobody had business harassing another for no reason at all. Those boys would have to grow up. Ole Gyul cast her eyes over Crekateh with maternal warmth swelling inside her and took in the years’ worth of scarring and injury on his body.

A gash on his shins from scaling a fence, long scars on both forearms from climbing a plum tree. A twisted left leg from falling from a coconut tree, a slash on the forehead from goodness knows what, swollen ankles from sprains in cow-holes made from their hooves in the pasture, and innumerable bruises and bumps.

“Yuh waan any Crekateh fuh buy, Granny?” He never failed to offer despite knowing she never had a liking for the snails.

“No,” she replied. “But ah waan fuh know is why yuh riskin’ yuh neck deh tryin’ fuh fish in Norman trench. You done kno y’all two doan ’gree.”

Nasty Norman was a bully from long, and he and Crekateh had some kinda beef. As boys they had actually gone to school together, back when Crekateh was still presentable and took his grooming and education.

“Yuh can tell meh is why y’all two fall out again?”

Neither of them had actually ever opened up, but today Granny would extract the story. In any case, it would be safe with her, since all the secrets she held would soon go to the grave with her. Ole Gyul had at least set out to solve this final mystery, and she did so with an iron will.

As he hesitated she opened her gate wide and invited him in. “Come in nah. Deh out deh like stranger. When last yuh hadda cuppa tea and some fresh bread?”

Crekateh salivated at the mere mention of fresh bread. It was a rare treat and one not fair to tempt him with, since all the bread people threw out was stale and mouldy, and had to be toasted over an open fire if he was to eat it. His feet moved before his mind made enough sense to decide against it. Down the salt bag of crekateh came beside the gate, and he made his way over to her garden pipe to wash off his hands.

He knew Granny for long enough to know that if he muddied anything, she would make him clean it until it was spotless. Finally, with washed limbs and face the man promptly seated himself on one of the flat tree stumps Granny had in front of her yard.

When she returned with a cup of brimming tea and a saucer of fresh bread and guava jam, Crekateh knew it was time to break his silence. Fingers shook as he collected the china wares and settled them between his legs before tearing into the bread, and biting into the softness. Just a bite wasn’t enough, and he had to hold his breath to get at the rest of it.

Ole Gyul just waited patiently, sitting on the opposite stump. “Finish? Good, can’t talk pon empty belly.” Crekateh couldn’t shake the feeling that he had been outplayed by the woman, but it didn’t matter. He started. “Granny yuh gah believe meh, it was a ax’dent…”

*******

“Shakaz,” Norman called out.

“Shakaz ah de tellin’ yuh fuh wait,” the boy said after he caught up.

“We already late and you deh screamin bout wait? Teacha gon’ skin we tail,” replied eleven-year-old Crekateh. He was always scruffy but this version had a ruddy face and a much brighter smile, even if it was ruined somewhat by two very large front teeth he still hadn’t grown into.

“Nah if we ain’ go…”

As soon as Norman said it Crekateh stopped hurrying, with an expression as if a holy revelation had been revealed to him.

“An weh we going…? We cyaan go home.”

“Who seh anyting but home? Bai ay, like you chuhbidee or what? Lewwe go over by de backdam weh nobody gon deh.”

Norman had switched the trail as he spoke and Crekateh was already following before he gave verbal assent.

A day of skipping school? Every schoolboy’s dream. Norman was quiet most of the way, which was unlike him, so Crekateh knew something was on his mind. He waited. Sure enough, the need to tell someone won out. He opened his hand and held it outwards to Crekateh, “Look hay Shakaz, look wah ah fin on de sink dis marnin.”

On his palm sat a gold band, something larger than any of their fingers, and with grooves around the edges like a wedding ring.

“Wah? How you fine duh?”

“Is mamee own. She musse tek it off fuh wash she han’ and fuh-get,” Norman nudged his friend in the ribs. “She ain even rememba wey she leff it.”

“What yuh gon do with it?” Crekateh asked, throwing a stone he found into the wide, nearby trench.

“Wuh yuh mean? You know how much money is dis? We could get anything we waan… Fishing net, boat and all!” Norman shook his head and grinned in excitement. Only big man does get boat.

This time Crekateh wasn’t so sure. His mother had a ring, and she never took it off at all.

“Yuh shore yuh waan do duh? Is yuh mudda ring, an sheh gon’ look all ova fuh it.”

“Well sheh nah gon’ fine it,” Norman retorted with an irritated tone. “Deh behaving like sum gyul. Since I talk ’bout skippin skool yuh deh skittish, skittish.”

A rage rising in him, Crekateh balled up his fists. It was no light thing to be called a girl, no matter who it was that suggested it.

He was almost in control of his anger when Norman noticed his closed fists and jeered, “Wuh? Wuh yuh gon do?”

The swing caught him square in the face and Norman said a word that would have made the God-fearing man turn purple, rising both hands to his face and groaning in pain. Crekateh dropped down beside him, worry taking over immediately as he apologised over and over again.

Norman pushed him away as roughly as he could, not caring for a moment how close they were to the edge of the dam, and blooshoom! There went Crekateh.

His entire body went under the water with a small splash due to his slight size, and after a moment of disbelief, Norman bent over the dam to look, waiting for Crekateh to resurface. One rice paddy, two rice paddy, three rice paddy… panic! He let out a scream so loud it echoed all around the area. Four rice paddy, Five rice paddy, Six rice paddy – oh lawd, Shakaz gon dead. Shakaz gon dead!

He pushed his hand into the trench and searched around, finding a clump of hair and sharp collarbones and pulling upwards as hard as he could. Crekateh came up gasping for breath and with eyes wide with fright and filling with tears.

“Bai is wuh really wrang wid you? You ain’ even try fuh swim. Nuttin’ nuttin’,” Norman fretted, truly frightened out of his mind but lashing out.

“I couldn’t move,” Crekateh croaked, then repeated it. “Ah cunnah move. Ah cunnah move.” He shivered and pulled his arms around himself.

Norman swore again and beat his fist onto the side of the backdam. “De ring! Ah had it in meh han and now it gon.” He patted everywhere around before his eyes fell on the muddy water lapping the banks. “It fall in! Mus’ be when yuh cuff meh. Stupps.” He almost shoved Crekateh again but restrained himself just in time.

“What you two doin hay!” A voice of thunder demanded and scared the two scrawny boys even further. They turned towards the voice and saw one of the fishermen that travelled the backdam in the afternoon to go to his farmlands. It was much too early for him to be around, and they were skipping school.

“I passin’, goin’ lang me way only fuh here somebody screamin’ like dem deadin,” the farmer said as he narrowed his eyes and advanced upon them until he had them both in a vice grip.

“Ah tekking y’all to the school. By de time headmaster done wid yuh, yuh gon wish yuh de drown!”

*******

“Headmaster propah put lix in we skin.”

Crekateh rubbed his palms together in discomfort at the memory.

“And I get mo lix cause I de wet… When he ask meh why I didn’t know wah fuh seh. Ah end up lie and tell he how meh de lookin fuh crekateh.”

Granny met the end of his tale with stunned silence. All these years and Crekateh had never told on Norman? The last pieces of the puzzle that were missing all this time finally made everything fall into place.

“Y’all neva find back de ring?” she asked Crekateh, voice low now in curiosity.

“No. I sarch. I sarch and sarch and neva fine it. An when Norman father leff them, Norman say how he leff cause he mudda lose de ring…”

Norman’s mother and father had nuff mo’ problem than that. He always de looking over he shoulda thinking she was cheating on he. When she lose the ring and he hear round the village that she had man, he leff she fuh look Norman by sheh self, and say how Norman is nah he own. Rubbish! He de looking fuh reason fuh leff from long. So, all these years yuh diggin’, diggin’ trench Crekateh… is… doan tell meh is de…?”

“Yes, Granny,” Crekateh groaned in confirmation with a fire in his maddened brown eyes. “Ah gotta fine it. Ah gotta fine the ring.”