Mango Samba by Dawne A. Allette

Author:Dawne A. Allette [Allette, Dawne A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FIC000000 FICTION / General
Publisher: Book Vine Press
Published: 2020-03-09T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Windward

Before going out fishing or to his meetings, Breed would make sure his wife was sitting comfortably with her legs elevated. He always waited until Popo or a woman from the village came over before he left her. This morning, however, was different. They had a ceremony to attend. A burial. It would be held under the breadfruit tree.

Breed held Abi steadily as they both walked into the yard holding a plastic bag. He placed the bag with its contents on the ground beside them and picked up the large digging fork that was laying against the tree. With a sigh, he started digging. The ground was soft and malleable after the morning rain. It was time to bury his dreadlocks. He kept one in his clothes drawer to give to Che in a year or two. Breed tenderly poured the locks into the hole, then sprinkled flower seeds on top of it. He filled up the hole with soil and they sat quietly for a minute. They got up to greet Popo who was ambling up the hill. Breed kissed Abi goodbye.

“You know if you were in America, they done take out that baby whether you ready or not,” said Popo who mysteriously knew everything that happened in America. Sitting down near to Abi, she added, “I hear those doctors up there, if they have to go and play golf at the time you due, they will give you a time to come in, and out comes the baby before tee time.”

She patted Abi on her stomach and addressed Che directly, “Time for you to come out of there and take a stand. I am getting too old to chase chickens and chop them up for lunch. What you waiting for?”

That morning Popo had run almost half a mile after a nice fat hen before she caught up with it. Before chopping off the head of a chicken, she always gave it the name of one of Henry VIII’s wives.

“I done season up Anne Boleyn already,” Popo told Abi. “All we have to do is cook her up. Today I will show you how to make a nice curry chicken. Come on, let me help you go inside.”

Abi struggling on her feet waddled along beside Popo. One foot today. One foot tomorrow. Popo figured that at this pace they would get to the kitchen by Christmas.

“I swear white people does have more trouble carrying children than black people,” Popo declared. “One of you should take some notes and write a book about how to make childbirth easier.”

“Very funny, but I don’t hear anybody laughing,” Abi said with a smirk.

“That is because they laughing on the inside,” Po Po shot back.“Anyway, waddle inside the bedroom and get paper and pencil, so you can write down how to cook Miss Boleyn,” Popo said. “And look sharp.”

Abi arrived back in the kitchen equipped and ready before the holidays.

“OK, let’s get cooking,” Popo said animatedly, “Make sure, darling, dat before you even season up the chicken, you clean it good.

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