Tuesday, September 02, 2008

The Yard


If it is one thing that I detest with a passion, it is rubberneckers. Those who slow down an’ crane their necks to take in accidents or anything that could possibly resemble forms of suss.

Yet, when it comes to this particular yard, I am a hypocrite.

I slow down and crane my neck to unnatural angles just to get a good look at The Yard’s happenings, for there are always all kinds of excitement going on in The Yard.

See, it all started years ago, when I was stuck in bumper to bumper traffic on my way to work. I took an idle glance at The Yard, and noticed several occupants engaged in a raucous game of dominoes - at 8:30 in the morning.

There was I, stuck, bitter and depressed at the fact that I had to drag my sleep deprived body to work, and they seemed so …happy; so…relaxed; so….unemployed. And there was pathetic I…adhering to society’s regimented requirement that I go to work to pay bills.

Since then, I have been conducting my own sociological study of The Yard, surreptitiously observing the comings and goings of the ever changing occupants at the domino table. Pondering if truant officers ever went to roun’ up the little pickneys, who always seem to increase in number whenever I pass, and are always scampering around in their bare, calloused feet, irrespective of the season. I, observing the pregnant mamas cantering flirtatiously around The Yard, unimpeded by their big bellies, eventually noticing when svelte figures would reappear, and newborn babies then given to the care of she whom I deem to be The Yard’s Matriarch, who always has an infant snuggled against her voluptuous bosom.

The Matriarch is always sporting her worn house dress and curlers, with breasts hanging to her knees. She is the ruler of all she surveys, as she sits regally in her strategically positioned chair, observing The Yard’s happenings, and doling out a slap now and again to a recalcitrant urchin as they pass her by. The newborns seem to grow up overnight, to join the herd of pickneys that are always romping in The Yard, all of whom are absolutely fearless, some even darting into traffic as they play daring games of catch, or on the way to the store to run an errand for the Matriarch. Woe is onto he or she who should ever hit one of those little daredevils!

Today, I watched in bemusement as Two Foot Tall urchin violently expressed his vexation at his five foot tall counterpart. They punched, bit, and flung expletives at each other, all whilst being cheered and jeered by the other occupants of The Yard. Mr. Two Foot was uncaring as to the size differential between he and his rival, though eventually, after being subdued by a WWF headlock, he escaped to eventually return and pelt a rock-stone and run. Sigh…a man after my own heart.

Need I mention that he pelt the rock-stone in the direction of traffic and nearly broke my car window? I took it as a sign from the Lord to mind my own business.

Needless to say, had Mr. Two Foot’s act of defiance broken my car window, one has to choose their battles very wisely. This is not the kind of Yard where I could act out in righteous indignation and demand financial restitution and / or repairs from the relevant parties. Matriarch and her gang of pickneys, would pro'ly jump up and kick my backside, right there in the middle of town. The shame would’a kill me more than the beating.

And on that cowardly note, I shall now exit.


Ta ta...

'Fro.

Ginger








15 comments:

Will said...

all you needed to add was: "and then the rains came and life returned to the savannah" and you'd be a shoe in to replace david attenborough as a nature commentator...

funny stuff... in fact i think i'll use a word that i have never consciously used before, either in speech or in writing... wry... i hope to god i've used it correctly...

Anonymous said...

And where exactly is this yard that you speak of?

Abeni said...

Quite the observant one eh Ms Afro

Shades of Miguel street there

Jdid said...

look if you go in there and demand satisfaction we bloggers will back you up.
if dem ever attack you i personally will respond with a righteous whoop ass blog the likes of which they have never seen and may never recover from.

Crankyputz said...

we have similar chess players in toronto who i always find fascinating, grubby men who have all the time in the world to sit around and play chess, their happiness irks me...

Anonymous said...

you might mean "indignation"...

ruthibel said...

ROFLMAO DWL

The Yard sounds all too familiar. Enter marjuana, liquor and non-stop expletives courtsy of the players, the dirty urchins and the loud-azz soundboxes...

Brotha Buck said...

Our Yard was the local car wash.

Anonymous said...

I know exactly which yard you are talking about... I noticed it because it reminded me of some places I know of in Kingston. I know a woman who is connected to that Yard. Perhaps she was one of the youngsters who grew up there, or at least in the vicinity. I met a cousin of hers who came up there too... I ddn't question them too much on their connection to the Yard, but dem come from dehso. The girl works, by the way...

Anonymous said...

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Unknown said...

Look like the Yard would provide opportunities from some great photos! lol1

Jdid said...

actually when I was home this summer I walked past a similar "yard" every morning on my way to the beach. What fascinated me was the amount of young people gathered there and the amount of weed in the air at 5:45am.

Pepper said...

is there a picture i cant see? how come MB know is which yard...

anyway great post!

Mighty Afroditee said...

Sigh...sorry Pepper / Stunner, am never brave enough to stand in front of that yard to take a picture. Just staring surrepticiously is a big risk, and it has taken me YEARS to gather the information that I have now.

MB is aware of the yard, just by being privvy to Caymanian suss. When on island, just drive and look, you can't miss it at'all...that goes for you too, Ms. Cute Pants...

Anonymous said...

Excellent post,Jamdown have many yards like the one described, especially in Kingston and Spanish Town, and the sociology/psychology of such yards are extremely interesting.ESTEBAN AGOSTO REID