Imagine, I, Market Vendor, is a minister of de Crown. I know dat hard to imagine but bear wid muh li’l bit, nuh.
I is Minister of Markets and Vending, Fish Markets, Produce Markets, Upscale Markets, People’s Markets – de works. I got a PS (partial salary, could be something else too but dat is not printable) and me and some of my colleagues hardly speaking; I and the rest of dem at odds.
It is Sunday morning and I planning to go to church, shake hands with parishioners, mek sure dem know I is a godly man, secure de votes, shoot the breeze with Bishop Jason or Monsignor Vincent about politics after Mass, something he and I does do regularly.
I get a call from a colleague inviting me to come and meet with my colleagues, some people I at odds with. We gine have a few drinks and share some food. I check de home kitchen and de madam ain’t start breakfast yet, much less lunch. The choices bleak – it is either the spirit or the spirits, and in one of my many moments of weakness as Honourable Minister of Markets and Vending, I opt to forget ’bout my bishop and monsignor and go with the spirits, knowing full well that Monsignor gine pray fun me anyhow.
We eat, we drink and make merry and then suddenly so I hear a knocking at de door. Who dat I say? De maximum leader come? De presumed deputy, who dat? De money man? Um is journalists, talk show hosts and hostesses – dem come to interview me, impromptu, out of de blue. You ever hear ’bout an impromptu interview? Dem really want me to believe dem was just passing by my fellow minister house pun Sunday and drop in? Like if journalists and politicians does lime together and pun Sundays?
Them catch me off guard cause Sunday is my time to relax, fire a few after Mass. I tell wunnah it is well with my soul; next thing de Worm in de Nation selecting my words. True it is my words, but when fellas like Ellis, Wickham, Price, Brandford, Hoyos and dat crowd reproduce my words, dem does sound different.
And when I get vex it does tek me real long to cool down.This is when I sometimes become incoherent and cruel. This is when I gine use brass bowls left and right; this is when I gine speak to you ’bout yuh family, yuh parents and tell you things you don’t know and never heard. This is when I gine tell yuh why yuh brother never had a girlfriend. I might even invite you to go and hear Brass Soul band; yuh gine have to bleep muh out if yuh want to broadcast what I say ’cause I gine get down to Brass Tacks.
Yuh might even find out who yuh real father is and discover dat me and yuh sista got business. I gine talk to yuh man to man. Yuh say de maximum leader don’t talk and when he talk wunnah can’t understand he. Well, I know wunnah understand me and wunnah know I don’t care ’bout wunnah, so print and broadcast wha I say – don’t edit it!
My tenure as minister might not be long but I hope long enough to secure my pension.
I know I shoulda gone to church. Ah feel I get set up; wunnah not gine catch me, Minister of Markets and Vending again! Not a brassbowl of dat!
I, Market Vendor, gone fuh now. You have a blessed and a wonderful day, yuh hear?
