Friday, April 12, 2024

Donkey day dun


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WANTED – five jackasses!
OK, ladies, please calm down. Before you run to your husbands showing them this and telling them to get up and apply for the job, or go in person before all of the jobs are taken, this is not a job vacancy for five jackasses. And please don’t ask me if I can’t find five jackasses cause I ain’t getting in that kinda dangerous talk with wunna.
Actually, it isn’t me who want the five jackasses, it is the National Cultural Foundation (NCF). Yes, the NCF is looking for five jackasses. In fact, they recently took out an ad in the SUNDAY SUN. It said: “Wanted alive – five donkeys, for the 2014 Republic Bank Crop Over City Fest And Ceremonial Delivery Of The Last Canes Parade.”
Please note, just in case you had five dead donkeys and thought this was the perfect opportunity to get rid of them, the NCF said they wanted the donkeys alive. They also said they wanted donkey carts.
To be honest with you, I ai’nt sure we got five donkeys ’bout here, dead or alive. The last donkey I saw had grey hair and was talking gibberish and that was bout ten years ago, so he probably dead by now.
But I remember as a child when every district had a few donkeys. Both men and women used to own donkeys with donkey carts, used mostly as vehicles for transporting and selling vegetables, but occasionally you would see a fella use the donkey as his everyday transportation, like how you and I would use our cars.
And sometimes, when the donkey thought that he had done enough mileage for the day, it would stop in the middle of the road and lie down and got traffic block for hours, and no amount of beating or coaxing would get that donkey to move until he had met with his union rep (usually a stray dog that would come up and start barking). And may the Lord help you if that donkey ever bites you. Rumour has it, that when a donkey bites you, it falls asleep with its teeth sunk into your flesh.
Now I come from Black Rock, and we had a man in the area who had a donkey, and the two of them used to go out and drink rum. Yes, the old man and the donkey used to fire one. And when that old fella get drunk, he would climb aboard the donkey cart and immediately fall asleep, and where ever they were, that donkey would bring him home.
So late in the evening, you would see that donkey coming up the gap, the old fella blind drunk, head bent over, rocking and sleeping. And when they get to the house, the donkey would bray hard and wake him up, to let him know they had arrived at the destination safely.
In his song Culture, Gabby sang, “… donkey stake out in pasture, that is my culture”, but that is part of we culture that gone. You would more find marijuana stake out in pasture now before you find a donkey.
Times have changed, boys don’t know how to make kites or gutterperks anymore, young girls can’t scale a flying fish or stir cou-cou. You can’t roast breadfruit on the beach anymore. Besides old people and Rastas, nobody don’t drink bush tea, and it is now illegal to dive for sea eggs.
Five donkeys wanted by the NCF, I wish them good luck in finding them.
See ya.

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