Sunday Sauce; Terror, tears and rains
Published:Sunday | May 30, 2010 | 12:00 AM
Oxy Moron, Contributor
There they are, a multitude of women from the west, some quite rotund and robust, marching through the streets of Kingston in a massive show of support for their don.
Among them is Shelly-Ann, young unemployed mother of three. Free-spirited she is and full of glee.
Shedding their skins of green, united they are in white. Even a mongrel is by their sides. With teeth and claws, it shall fight with them to the very end.
For, while Jesus bore the cross alone and let the world go free, their don shall not. "Jesus died for us and we will die for Dudus," they declared.
Should the don be extricated from their buxom bosoms, hunger shall stalk the land and off to work they would have to go.
Meanwhile, from afar, the one-time godfather of them all watches with keen interest. This unprecedented stamp of loyalty has knocked him from his pedestal of popularity. No longer the don of all dons. That title belongs to another one.
Yes, the daughters of the west have thrown down the gauntlet and the battle lines are now drawn. Tension rages on. But the shottas are impatient. Fingers tremble on triggers they are just happy to fire.
And on the Lord's day, all Hell breaks loose. Four days of fire and fury ensue, reminiscent of the war days of Beirut.
Tuesday night, in a darkened well-furnished room, Shelly-Ann sits on the floor bawling. The lifeless head of her man rests on her pregnant belly. His white merino vest is drenched with blood. She caresses his young face, afraid to touch his bullet-riddled chest. The wounds are gaping. She bawls some more. Nobody comes to console her. Bullets are still flying, grenades exploding, windows shattering, children screaming, helicopters hovering, Shelly-Ann bawling.
Where is her don when she needs him most? Her man is dead. Two daughters are hiding under the bed. Her only son is somewhere below in the mayhem. She is carrying another fatherless one. And her city is under siege.
Then comes the full moon to give them hope and with it the multitasking rains, crying with the bereaved and wounded, and cleansing the land of the blood and pain.