Dropping the bomb on Aunt Freda.
By Euline Joseph. Ooouu! The familiar cry of… oooweee… a bird… a crying doll… a whistling kettle demanding its mistress? What on earth made that eerie sound? Oh shucks! How could I forget? The early “bird” cooing… our expectant visitor.
Monday to Friday 8.15 a.m. on the dot you could look forward to Aunt Freda’s all too frequent visits. The dark well-rounded aged lady continuously complained about her ill feeling. I was over-exhausted from her daily recitals.
”Mih… mih knee. Look, see (raising her skirt) it ent good nuh.”
In spite of her weakening limbs, Aunt Freda passed the attendance record with flying colours… at our home, together with punctuality.
We always welcomed Aunt Freda to our home, regardless of the long, lengthy mauvaise-langue chats with my mom (depriving her of her household duties).
“Ah fed up, ah damn fed up.”
We never needed to inquire further. It was deeply injected into our brains by now the topic entitled “Aunt Freda’s Grandchildren.”
One day I became most annoyed with the aged lady’s persistent consistent warm visits and openly remarked, “Oh gosh, she ent tired come here?” My younger five-year-old sister didn’t hesitate to crack the news to Aunt Freda. Without me realising it, she rushed to greet Auntie by the gate and dropped the all ready to explode bomb on her.
I became dumb, dumb, dumb. My mother couldn’t seem to convince the stubborn old woman, “no such thing was ever said”.
Aunt Freda sat brap on the front step of our home, swearing, “Ah go never put foot in yuh house a… again!”
“Hum…” I thought. “What a relief! Yet, I felt somehow, the pain and embarrassment and humiliation and… that was a result of my true but insensitive statement.”
Aunt Freda should feel free to make social calls to our home, but for heaven’s sake why should she continue to do so at the expense of others?
August 2013 – Issue 5 www.sweettntmagazine.com
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