By Stephanie Bowry
The day was perfect, radiant sun and blue sky. Ten-year-old Rannie woke up in high spirits on that Friday morning in April, 1944. He set about his chores and prepared for school with maximum energy. The boys in standards three and four had planned a cricket match for that morning at seven thirty. They would play until eight thirty when the school bell would ring. The game would continue at recreation time and then again at lunch time. It was all nicely set. The teams had been picked since yesterday afternoon, to save time. He had to be early. He said to his guardian, “Dear aunt, I in my class team. I am opening batsman! I making a century today for sure!” He bent his shoulders and made a great swiping motion with the dhal gutney and hollered, “Four!”
His aunt said, “Looku, siddown and drink yuh tea boy! Rice ah pot and rice ah plate ah two different rice.”
Rannie felt a little discoloured at that. He picked up his cup and drank his tea in two gulps and pushed his biscuits in his pants pocket. He was slinking through the door with, “Going dear aunt,” when his aunt said, “Where the hell is yuh cap? I told yuh not to walk bare-head again. The next time yuh get catarrh I gun ker yuh and lef yuh at the hospital steps. ”
Rannie said, “I not finding it and I can’t look fuh it now, auntie.”
His aunt said, “What yuh not looking for dis morning yuh gun get. Yuh can’t find it because yuh didn’t put it in the right place! Yuh get nail to hang it on but when yuh come home yuh dash it in the chair and next morning yuh looking on the nail for it. Play stupid wid me.”
Rannie retrieved his cap from the armchair and said, Thanks, dear aunt. Going, dear aunt.”
Dear aunt said, “I going out this afternoon. Mus light the lamp six o’clock so the angel of light can stop. Too much evil walking ’round nowadays. I coming back late.”
Rannie said, under his breath, “Yuh can spend the whole night if yuh want, and give me a break.” Thank God she did not. The boy ran almost all the way from Glasgow, East Bank, Berbice to St. Aloysius Boys School at St. John Street, New Amsterdam. He was the first boy to arrive. He began setting the wickets in place, as arranged. Before he had completed the job, the other players had arrived. They did what they had to do and at seven thirty they were ready to begin. The two captains and the umpire stood together. The umpire invited the captain of fourth standard to call. The captain called, “Heads.” The umpire sent the coin spinning in the air with a flip of his thumb. He caught it before it fell and slapped it on the back of his hand. Everybody gathered round to see. It was heads. The fourth standard captain said, “Let third standard bat first.”
The game began. Rannie was the batsman. Tyrone was the non-striker. Jave was the bowler. The first ball caught the edge of Rannie’s bat and almost hit the stump. Fourth standard bawled, “Out!” The umpire said, “Not out.” and signaled for the game to continue. Jave said, “I gun get you soon, Rannie; what miss yuh en pass yuh.” Rannie missed the second ball altogether. Jave exclaimed, “Bad sign, Rannie! The third ball gun get yuh.” The third ball came spinning at top speed. Rannie raised his bat and swung and sent the ball sailing back in the direction from whence it came. “Six,” shouted standard three. The fielders were obliged to search for the ball and the ball gave them a good workout before it allowed itself to be found. When it was found, Outar said, for it was Outar’s ball, “Rannie, if yuh did loss meh ball yuh woulda buy it back.” Rannie did not answer for his eyes were on Jave and Jave was already running-in with his bowling hand set for vengeance. Released, the ball sped to Rannie with vexation and Rannie raised his bat and hit it with passion. Standard three shouted, “Six!” Outar said, “I sure meh ball loss now.” He was right. The ball was lost. Both teams searched but in vain. Outar expressed himself as much as an 11-year-old could and he did very well. Moved to anger by the insults, Rannie expressed himself as much as a 10-year-old could and he also did exceedingly well. A cantankerous child from another class altogether said, “Fire, fire bun meh han.” The whole crowd of children picked up the chorus. “Fire, fire bun meh han.” Outar moved forward slowly. Rannie stood his ground. He was not going to back down from Outar. He said, “Come, coolie boy, leh meh tar yuh magga hide.” Outar closed the distance between them in two leaps and the school bell rang.
It was unlikely that any of the boys of standards three and four paid much attention to their teachers that morning. Everyone was thinking what would happen at recreation time. John poked Patrick, who was sitting in front of him in third standard and said, “Think Outar can beat Rannie?”
Patrick said, “Me en know. People say magga nah sick. Outar may whip him yuh never know.”
John said, “Me gat to see dat to believe dat.”
Patrick said, “Outar older.”
John said, “But Rannie bigger.”
The whispering went round and round the class till it reached Rannie’s ears.
Rannie said, “Wait and see who is canoe and who is punt.”
At that same time a similar conversation was going on in standard four. Banwhispered to Outar, “Don’t pick no fight wid Rannie if yuh en want he cut yuh tail.”
Outar sneered, he was still as high strung as ever, he said, “Me can mek dah po-ass black man, beat me?”
He spoke so loudly that the teacher said, “What is going on here?”
Bangie said, “Outar want to fight Rannie Williams when we get playing today, sir.”
Sir said, “That’s alright. Thanks for letting me know.” He continued to teach.
By and by it was time for playing. The classes poured through the school doors into the yard, all except standard four. Sir said, “Today standard four will stay in and play an indoor game.” Standard four sucked its teeth but its teacher did not hear. He took his chalk and divided the blackboard in half. At the top of one half he wrote Outar and underlined it. At the top of the other half he wrote Rannie and underlined it too. Then he said, “Well boys, this is how we will play this game. Each of you will come up to the board, take the chalk, and put your initials under the name of whichever of those two boys you believe will win if they fought with each other. Take your time and think about it. It does not matter who you will support in the fight. The question is who, in your good sense, you think will win. When I say “go” you will get up one by one, orderly, and put your initials. I hope that this exercise will influence what happens when school is out.” Then he asked Outar to stand behind the chalk board and when Outar was safely behind the board he said, “Go.”
The boys got up one by one and slowly put their mark. By the time they were all done the bell to end the recess period rang and the children poured back into the school-house and their noise poured in with them. That was a lucky thing for, with all the noise, Outar’s teacher did not hear Outar say, “Traitors! But because alyuh nah vote fuh meh en sey meh not gun fight. Wait and see.”
The rest of the morning was uneventful. Outar was stone-faced. He kept his eyes in his Arithmetic book and looked neither left nor right. Time and time again the other boys glanced at him but he did not notice. At last the bell rang for lunch and the school-house threw the children out.
Outside, Bangie said, “Wait fuh me, Outar.”
Outar said, “No! You is a black judas daag! Number one, yuh tell sir on me that I want to fight; number two, yuh didn’t vote fuh me.”
Bangie said, “Fuh save yuh life, coolie fool.”
Outar said, “Tek yuh time wid me. Lil axe does cut down big tree.”
Bangie said, “Only thing is, you en no axe an Rannie en no tree.”
Outar sucked his teeth and went through the gate. Rannie and some other boys came up to the gate and Bangie held Rannie by the arm and said, “You living at Glasgow; you bring yuh lunch. Yuh don’t have to go through the gate. Go back in school and eat yuh food.”
Rannie pulled away his arm and said, “But is who you playing at all, meh fadder or Jesus? What gaffa happen, gaffa happen.”
Bangie said, “Yuh right. Kill Outar and yuh fuh guh Onderneeming fuh 10 years and when yuh come back yuh is a old, old man. It fuh happen suh, nah?”
Rannie was taken aback, but only for a moment. He flew through the gate and caught up with the school crowd. One of Rannie’s supporters said, “Outar, yuh betta run; Rannie sey he gun wash yuh dhal and rice arse.”
Outar said, “Leh he come. He gun fine out dat me arse don’t walk by itself.”
Rannie said, “Is wah dah coolie wata rice say?”
At that Outar went into a sudden rage. He waved his spidery arms and chanted loudly, “Black man sala pong masala, thief he modda five dallar.” Somebody pushed him so that he collided with Rannie. Rannie did not stop to consider how the collision happened; he raised a hefty cuff and jammed it into Outar’s ribs. Outar bent double then straightened and landed a lame jab to Rannie’s jaw and the fight began. By then the instigators had formed a tight circle around the two. Outar’s supporters— if there were any— betrayed him, for everyone in the circle sang the same lyrics, “Go Rannie, go” and Rannie went till Outar weakly said, “Surrender.”
Rannie got up and, all his teeth showing, hit upon his chest, like he was the mighty Joe Young, and all the boys cheered him. Outar too got up. He looked at Rannie and sniffled, “Meh father gun sen he baccoo pon yuh tonight, sure, sure; meh gun see if yuh gun get teeth fuh skin then.” All at once everybody grew very quiet. Everybody knew of Outar’s father’s infamous baccoos. Everybody was gripped by fear and in that moment of their captivity, Outar went away. When he had gone a good way he looked back and saw the boys still standing where he had left them and he sang out, “Black man sala pong masala, thief yuh modda five dallar!”
He did not bother to return to school when it called again at one o’clock. He sent his father in his place. The father went directly to the headmaster’s office and then the headmaster sent for Rannie. Outar’s father looked long and hard at Rannie and said, “You tink you bad? Ting deh fuh stop all bad man.” He uttered a shallow laugh and left. The headteacher gave one of his long, stern ears-burning talks before he benched Rannie, six, right there on the platform with the whole school watching. When Rannie returned to his seat, somebody sniggered. Rannie said, “Licks does bun and cole.” Nevertheless, he had a tough time, all afternoon, sitting on the hard bench and shifted constantly. Even his best friends sniggered. He was glad when school was dismissed at three o’clock.
He was glad, too, that it was Friday. He won’t have to sit with his sore arse on the school bench tomorrow. What he was not glad about was going home. Outar had threatened to send his father’s baccoo on him and he did not like the way Outar’s father looked at him. He did not like his words either. What did the man mean? Rannie was sure he was sending him a bad message. He was scared to death of going home but he had to go home.
When he got home his aunt was not there, true to her word that morning. He went indoors, changed and was out again in a hurry. He felt safer outside. Besides, some children were playing in the street; he would join their game and keep his mind off the baccoo. But time passed in a hurry and soon it was dark. His playmates went home and he alone was left in the street. He thought about waiting at the neighbour’s house for his aunt to come home but the place was dark and dear-aunt would kill him if he did not light the lamp. The conflict in poor Rannie’s heart was tremendous. At last he decided that it would be better to light the lamp. He went towards home. He could feel his heart beating. He went into the yard. Now he could hear its beating. He stopped and opened his mouth and breathed deeply. Then he went to the door. He was trembling. He pushed the door slightly, slid in, and pulled the door shut behind him. Immediately, he saw it! Outar’s baccoo was in the house waiting for him! It was sitting on the back of the armchair! He uttered an involuntary scream and thereafter froze. He could only stare at the evil thing across from him. And the evil thing stared blatantly back at him with malicious eyes. It smirked at him. It shook its fists at him. The terrorized boy tried to say that he was sorry for fighting with Outar but he couldn’t get the words to come out. The evil thing grinned at his helplessness. It jumped up and down in the chair and then it opened its arms and swayed backwards and forwards and wiggled and woggled threateningly. Rannie knew that it was setting to jump on him. He opened his mouth to scream and just then he heard his aunt’s voice in the yard say, “Ah wonder why dis blasted chile en light the lamp up to this hour. I gun kill he dead, dead!” She reached the door, pulled it open and screamed, “RANNIE WHERE ARE YOU?!”
“Auntie,” Rannie said, “auntie, baccoo in the house.”
Auntie was quiet for a full minute. Then she whispered, “Where, boy?”
Rannie whispered back, “In the big armchair.”
Auntie said, “I hope the torchlight still on dis ledge.” She felt on the ledge inside the door and found the flashlight, trained it on the chair and flicked the switch. The bright beams fell upon Rannie’s school cap. It was still woggling, like.
