Fiction - Urns of ashes

Paul H. Williams, Contributor

Zebedee Titus' life was replete with struggles between his mother's and father's relatives, among whom no love was lost. One week he would be living with one set and the next, he would be living with the other.

Zebedee was abducted several times by one side or the other, and was absent from school regularly. He was kept away lest he was intercepted by his mother or his father, on the way to or from school.

It was all about money. His mother's family wanted financial support for him, while the father's side wanted him so that no money would be sent to the mother, who they claimed was using it on herself.

But, it was also about a complete breakdown in the relationship between the families, after it was discovered that Zebedee's father, Glasford, was secretly engaged to another young woman in a neighbouring community.

His mother, Edna, was so distraught, she attempted several times to physically harm Glasford, whose family was in favour of his engagement to Moveta, who was being trained to become a teacher.

But Zebedee was also a sickly child, and one side would blame the other for the "bad blood" travelling in Zebedee's veins. Yet, each side laid claim to Zebedee's good looks.

And with all of the instability and illness, Zebedee was placed at a top-notch high school when he was 12 years- old. His 'brains' too were attributed to his 'bright' relatives, which both sides claimed they were. He won a half-scholarship which included boarding at a rural high school.

Zebedee was glad to be away from the feud, but as fate would have it, the families brought the fuss to his school. His mother and father would turn up at the same time with money, food and personal effects. Those he didn't mind, but he was embarrassed and frustrated by the tension they brought with them.

Throughout high school Zebedee's illness and the feuds continued, but the boy obviously put them out of focus and excelled. At his graduation, the entourage from both families were huge, each sitting on different sides of the church hall where it was held. As he rose to collect his school-leaving certificate, both sides also stood, and cheered uproariously.

However, tension invaded the picture-taking session, as everyone tried to get a picture with Zebedee. In the picture with the mother and father, only Zebedee smiled. In the shots with the father's relatives, it was only teeth that the photographers saw, and so was the case with the pictures with the mother's relatives. Zebedee's father's wife, Moveta, opted not to be a part of the drama. She had not developed a relationship with Zebedee, anyway.

The tussle for Zebedee's affection progressed right throughout his university days, back in Kingston. The tension at his high-school graduation was revived at the university graduation. The only differences were the sizes of the entourages, and the nature of Zebedee's achievement, an upper-second class bachelors degree in accounting.

An accounting job at a reputable auditing company was what Zebededee spent most of his working life doing. He had a family of his own, and would financially assist his parents and other relatives who could not stop talking about their accountant offspring.

In his late 50s, Zebedee's childhood illness, which was heart-related, had finally worn his system down and he opted for early retirement. His wife and children made sure he was well taken care of. His mother's and father's relatives, including half-brothers and sisters, some of whom had died before him, never made peace. And when Zebedee, whose mother and father had also predeceased him, died suddenly one night in his sleep, the friction heightened.

This time it was about where Zebedee was going to be buried. One dead man, two family plots in different parishes was the dilemma facing them. They approached his wife at different times with their suggestions - well, demands, if you will. They were very agitated when they got no confirmation from his wife, who seemed to be nonchalant about the fuss.

Two weeks after Zebedee's death, suddenly, one Monday morning, Zebedee's wife summoned the relatives from both sides to a meeting at her house. One by one they arrived on foot, on bikes, bicycles or motor vehicles. One side gathered under a big mango tree, another on the verandah. Their faces were a picture of gloom and bitterness.

When Zebedee's wife, flanked by their son and daughter, appeared on the spacious verandah, each carried a small vase-like container. The relatives who were gathered under the mango tree drew closer.

"Good morning, everybody," Zebedee's wife began, "In keeping with my late husband's wishes, I have decided that there would be no burial." Her children drew closer to her, as the gasps and "whats!" rained upon her. There were open mouths, gaping jaws, and bulging eyes.

"Just give me a chance," she continued, "Zebedee was cremated yesterday, the funeral service will be on Sunday."

The relatives were stunned speechless.

But Zebedee's wife wasn't finished.

"His ashes are in these urns, one for his mother's relatives, one for his father's relatives, and I will keep one. You will get yours after the funeral on Sunday."

What happened after? It's another story for another time and space, because it wasn't pretty.