Behaving Badly on The Street!!!!!

Well here I am again, voicing my concerns and griping on about the state of affairs of society, blah, blah, blah. Yes, yes, I know you have already heard my many tales in this great book about obedience, lack of morals, standards and boundaries. So here I am again, feeling like David in the Bible who was being challenged by Goliath, with my own slingshot ready to shoot a biblical rant and rave about society’s behaviour, or rather lack of etc.

Maybe I am feeling empowered to speak about such issues. Yet it is important both from a parental and cultural perspective, that I draw reference to these issues as they were the foundation upon which many of our lives were built upon and values which held our families together. So at this point in time, if you don’t feel to hear a nag, then please send this book back to me and I will reimburse you with…. a good hard slap (the money will already have been deposited in my bank account, thank you very much and I don’t do refunds – got too many mouths to feed.)

Anyway, let’s start the rant. In February 2005, I was on a train where the first two front coaches had been closed off to the public. The train driver announced that this was due to school children from a particular area, vandalising the train, breaking lights and causing other damage. This scenario certainly caused me to reflect a little. Now, I certainly knew that coming from a Barbadian household I could never, ever, ever, ever (just one more now) ever have been caught up in anything so detrimental to my well-being, to cause my parents to even associate me with any form of vandalism.

Come on now, all you 1960’s babes you know where I am coming from on that front don’t you? Can you imagine getting your sorry selves caught up in this type of nonsense, back in the day? Hell no! because once the parents, the grandparents, the aunts and uncles, great-aunts and great-uncles and distant relatives, in fact the whole damn clan, found out that we had played a part, no matter how small, in such a venture, we knew we’d be marked men and women and our freedom would have been cut short in an instant. So here’s a scenario that could’ve taken place back then if I had been insane enough to get caught up in the above.

The Year 1985: I’d hear the key turn in the lock, and I’d pretend I had been sitting doing my homework from like last night. Dad would walk into the room and silence would follow him like a shadow. From the silence, one knew that trouble was brewing. I’d smile sweetly at him, all innocent and coy, as I truly was. Even though I might have been aware of the scenario on the train, I was secure in the knowledge that I had played no part in the madness that had gone on and therefore secure in the knowledge that my back-side was safe.

So there I would be hoping that father dearest would not be suspicious and that he would realise that his God-fearing and Sunday School going child would never get caught up in anything that would possibly bring disrespect to the family name. So as my father walked in, he would slowly and strategically place his bag where he always left it after coming home from work. He’d then address me in a painfully languid manner, whilst taking off his coat with “you get in trouble at school today?” Forget about “Good evening Esther you had a good day at school?” OR even, “how did your exams go today?” I’d smile weakly at him, my heart thundering so loud you’d think the rapture had come and state “no daddeeee I didn’t get into no trouble at school today.”

Father would then give me one of those “what sort of grammar are you using” look and ask me to re-address the sentence, indicating in short clipped tones, that I had used a double negative. I would sense that Father would be rying to incriminate me, by trying to distract me with nonsense about double negatives and the like, but I had to stand my ground because my backside was at stake here and it certainly did not want to feel the wrath of “Herby the Butty Belt.” My Father would then ask me once again, in clipped tones, whilst placing both hands on the dining room table, looking me in my eyes, and right through to my brain (well it felt like it) “I will not be repeating myself again and will say this only ONCE, you get into trouble at school, outside of school, on the way to the bus stop, at the bus stop, on your way from de bus stop” - he’d then pause for effect before ending it with “Today?”

All Rights Reserved January 2007@Esther Austin

EXCERPT TAKEN FROM LAUGH AT LIFE WITH ME: TEENAGERS