MAA TIN TIN Part 2

This short story is written in Jamaican patois (patwa).

                            MAA TINTIN 

                           By Nzinga Nzinga

When I heard, my belly trembled; my lips quivered at the voice: rottenness entered into my bones, and I trembled in myself, that I might rest in the day of trouble…

Habakkuk 3v16.

Part 2 

“Come, Maa Tintin, come wid mi.” Cudjoe kept urging.

“Yes, Ranny. Yu was always a loving an carin chile, Maas Ran. Ah will come wid yu now, Ranny.”

“Maa Tintin, is mi, mi Cudjoe.”

“Ranny, wat a way yu can tek serious ting mek joke. Cudjoe ded.”

“Maa Tintin, doan sey dat. Mi no ded.”

She hugs him tight. “Ranny, it goin to bi hard wid Cudjoe gone. Dat bwoy cudda do di wuk of two big man even doh im was juss your age. How ole? Nine years? Im die young. There was no wuk im cudden manage. No wuk was too much fi im. Im was like a beese of burden. Im really bad lucky to die at such a tender age. Im draw bad card. May his soul rest in peace.”

The boy tries to pull away from the old lady’s tight embrace.

“Maa Tintin, is Ranny ded. Is mi Cudjoe was holdin yu han an is mi Cujoe yu queezin so tight.”

In a stern voice she admonishes him. “Wat yu seyin , Ranny? Tap talking foolishness, chile. Afta Cudjoe an mi was nebber on dose terms. Im wudden dare come hole mi han much less fi mi fi hug im up. Di bwoy was like servant. Missis an servant doan fratanize. Doan pull wey from mi. Eben doh im was mi granson, im fadda was a wutliss bwoy from dung a bridge while yu, even doh born out a wedlock, is the son of Mr. Templeton from over bridge. Ah doan countenance dat kine a low class behaviour eben in mi own daatah.”

“Ranny ded, Maa Tin Tin. Is Ranny ded.”

“Why yu keep seyin dat, Ranny? How yu to be ded an yu is here wid mi? Yu know someting, Ranny? Wi haffi get anadda bwoy fi tek Cudjoe place. Maybe wan neddah wan a Becky bayfoot, natty hed bwoy dem. Wan a Cudjoe hungry-belly bredda dem. As soon as ebriting si to dis side, wi can go dung a country an tek wan. Is so much a dem dung deh, nobaddy gwine miss one. Doan walk so fass, Ranny, mi feeling tyad bad. It gwine tek some time fi train di new bwoy like how mi did train Cudjoe. Tap trying to pull wey, Ranny. Ah tyad. Mi hed a hat mi bad like seh sumaddy a tek hamma an beat mi eena it. Yes, mi did train Cudjoe well excep in wan ting. Cudden get im to call yu Maas Ran, at all. Always a raw-up raw-up yu name like yu an im was any companion.”

“Wi was cousin,” the boy retorted.

“Dat maybe so but wi have to draw di line somewhere, sometime, somehow. Why yu walkin so faas like you tryin to get wey from mi? Slow down, Ranny. Mi heart beating faas, yu si, an mi hed feel light. Mussen because mi lef di house dis maanin before cock crow an ah doan eat a bite since den.. Den di sun it so hat. Wen di new bwoy come, mek sure seh im call yu Maas Ran. Doan pull wey from mi. Wi haffi stick togedder now. Why yu start bawling again, chile?”

“Mi sorry im ded. Im was mi fren.”

“Fren nutten. Ranny, how the two a yu to be fren an him sleep pon board eena kitchen an yu sleep pon bed eena di house?”

She holds tightly unto him, preventing his escape, muttering chant-like:

“A who sey Maas Ran ded? How Maas Ran fi ded? A who sey Maas Ran ded up a yard? How pretty, pretty Maas Ran fi ded?”

Then in a voice like an elocutionist reciting to an audience:

“In the midst of life dere is det an di Lawd giveth an di Lawd taketh away. Blessed be the name of the Lawd for doh I walk tru the valley of the shadow of det I will fear no evil for dow art wid me an dye rod an dye staff dey comfort me.”

She stares at the boy with a cunning scheming look on her face. She smiles in a strange hypnotic fashion. It’s frightening to a nine year old. He struggles to pull away. He can’t. She smiles in a contented way as if satisfied at what she sees in Cudjoe’s face.

“Ranny,” she says, “Ranny, ah gwine sey somting dat nat gwine soun charitible but mi haffi sey it. Ranny, mi glad seh is Cudjoe silver cord cut an nat your own. It not hard fi

fine anadda bwoy fi put eena Cudjoe place, but Ranny, Maas Ran, if it was yu now, if Massa Gawd did see it fit to call yu home at this tender age, ah wudda muss go mad!”

PREQUEL TO MAA TINTIN or what should have been the introduction……………

The tiny old lady urges the donkey through the thicket towards the river bank. She carries on a conversation either with herself or with the ass.

“Soon reach home. Only half mile lef now. Ah bone tyad. Is long time since me deh pon di road. From before daylite. Mi bone dem gettin ole now but dere is no ress in site fi mi for a long time to come. Di bwoy dem too young fi manage dat big place. Turty acres. Maas Ran have a nice piece a legacy comin to im. Anyway, at his age, di piece a cake mi carryin fi im is of more intress an value to im now dan all that lan." 

She continues with a tired sigh, "Di place need some bushing doh. Cudjoe can come out tomarrow an do wat im can. What a brute can wuk! Maas Ran to go baaba tomarrow go cut im hair. The chile hair so saaf an pretty ah hate to cut it but what to do. If im is to grow up to be a gentleman im wi juss a fi do wat gentleman pickney dem do. Ah glad ah could buy dis nice school shoes fi im. Funny ting how im not fussy bout new tings. Im contented to run barefoot bout di place in di hat hat sun like dat big foot Cudjoe if ah would let im dweet."

“Wey yu si Mister Templeton bwoy dem going bout di place barefoot?’’ ah seys to im. Im doan like to hear dat kine a talk. Sey im prefer to be like Cudjoe more dan dem sissy Templeton children. But ah will mek im into a gentleman if is di lass ting a do. My handsome Ranny with im skin light like the Templeton boy dem. Boy bright like a new penny. Teacher sey dat im good enough to win up all di scholarship dem dat come is way. Dat is good news for the Templeton children dem head tough. Dunce like bat. Cudjoe im, fi im head so tough im lucky if im eben larn fi read im name much less write it. Teacher sey mi fi try send im a school more often but teacher a joke. Who gwine do di wuk when di bwoy gone a school ebry day? Teacher musbe coming to do it fi Cudjoe. Teacher can gwoan talk. Im ave yard boy. Still nutten no wrong if Cudjoe miss out on reading an writing. Mi nebber larn any of dose tings an mi nebber tun cruff. It might even confuse Cudjoe head.”

She stops the donkey by the water’s edge and leads him to drink while she continues musing, “Ah glad ah buy dis nice school shoes for Maas Ran. Cudjoe can get the ole wan dem. Maas Ran can well spare im dat one for im have tree pare an Cudjoe have only wan an it need new bottom but mi caan afford fi fix it now. If mi eber sey dat mek Ranny hear im gwine ask why me never tek di money mi use fi buy shoes fi im fix Cudjoe own. Still, is mi wan supporting dem an mi doing mi bess. Bwoy, ah really tiyad.”

She stoops down and using her hands as a cup, drinks copiously of the clear, sweet spring water. She gets up, yawns.

“Ah wonder why ah feel so tiyad. Mi lef eye a jump from maaning like mi gwine hear bad news. Ah hope is not mi sugar gone up why ah so tiyad. Ah muss go to Clinic tomarrow an beg Miss Maud check mi urine fi mi.”

She throws the rope over the donkey’s head. He follows obediently. “Mi caan badda mount yu now. Mi wi sen back wan a de bwoy dem fi yu.” She hitches him to a tree. He is contented to stay there and graze in the lush grass. She walks a few chains and sees a figure running towards her.

“Dat look like Cudjoe. Yes. Is Cudjoe.”

He’s within hailing distance. He is close up to her now.

“Cudjoe, wha happen? Bwoy, look how yu a sweat an wat a way yu a blow hard. It waan look like is you travel over six miles to Calabash Bay and not mi.”

“Maa Tintin!, Maa Tintin! Ranny ded!”

THE END

All the images were taken from the Internet and I claim no copyright.