BY THE time wunnah read this West Indies  fate will be sealed one way or the other so I can only speak of the T20 experience of the weekend just ended. I Market Vendor joined the faithful and long suffering West Indies cricket fans, trekking to the Mecca of cricket in the Caribbean, Kensington Oval, last Friday gone full of doubts and fears; thankful to Mr Lewis and Mr Duckworth for their system of calculating who wins what when the rain fall;  thankful that rain fell in Guyana and that our boys were into the Super Eights part of the revolutionary and truly exciting form of cricket the World T20 Championship. As I was strolling down to the Oval, armed with salt fish, boiled green banana, Cassava, flying fish, coconut bread and water, Mr Walker’s liquid delight to blend with de ice and coconut water, I couldn’t help but feel upbeat and happy even if I didn’t quite understand how Wavel Hinds had risen from the cricketing dead and gotten back into the West Indies team (I thought the man was on pension, after all he was opening for the Windies with Sherwin Campbell!)The volunteers were out in force, the park ’n ride was working, visitors galore, accents unsure, the stands were packed and the oval ground was impeccable, hats off to the team from Barbados  Golf Club led by Eamon McCarthy who changed  the style of cutting and had a circular pattern this time around. And even if things did not go our way there were plenty of other teams to shout for as long as they were not playing against the Windies. there was Sri Lanka, and India and Pakistan and South Africa, what could possibly go wrong, somebody had to win, right? Wrong! By Sunday morning I was asking myself whether I should not be spending the day at St Patrick’s cathedral in mourning, hoping that the Monsignor might not miss me from the proceedings! I felt battered and bruised as everyone  of my teams get beat and beat bad, Pakistan had become for me the Pakistindies, India was beaten and West Indies gave me acid reflux. Catches dropped like we had butter in we hands, batsmen in and out so fast you could no t risk going to the bathroom and then that awful missed catch where two big men, one being the wicketkeeper watched as a ball get skied up  in the air and fall between them like two confused school boys! I nearly pelt way all the food and drink and  walk out, I was hurling the usual threats that  I never supporting West Indies again, never  coming back to Kensington.But 24 hours in cricket is a long time, Sunday was mother’s day and if there is one thing that every West Indian man values it is his mother!  And so it was written that the West Indies  would come out and play with their hearts  for the one woman that no West Indian can  betray, his mother! It was like a new team, Ramdin behind the stumps, men diving and sliding like the Aussies, pace like fire from Roach, Taylor, Sammy and Bravo. Pollard and Bravo brilliant in the field,  off field the winer girls were gyrating till muh  head was giddy and then Chetwyn from party stand bring in two body painted ladies, them did spinning like blenders. Chris Gayle was a beast, the only place he ain’t hit the ball was in the toilet, it was an innings to savour, one of those “I was there moments.” Finally the maroon shirts, hats bandanas and flags were waving in the breeze, West Indians were screaming with delight and all was well on Sunday morning at the Oval as our team delivered big time! I Market Vendor gone fuh now.You have a blessed and a  wonderful day, yuh hearrr!

Dear Nesta,I been walkin’ ’bout dis pas’ week, grinnin’ like Skinners mare, an’ my frien’ Philomena wanta know wha’ gine on, ’cause as far as she concern, dey en neffin to smile at – supermarket prices, ’stead o’ comin’ down, risin’ evah week, light bills higher dan a Easter kite, dem four lanes by Upton still confusin’ yuh head whenevah yuh got de misfortune to be in dah area, now de drought easin’ up ’pon we li’l bit, back come de snails playin’ hide an’ seek wif de bounty hunters, word ’bout de place is dat gangs linin’ up, an’ so it gine – so she now worried dat soon, muh address gine change to Black Rock!  I had to explain to she wha’ got muh in dis mood – min’ yuh, I en know how long it gine las’!’Girl, couple weeks ago, I cyahn tell yuh how please I was to read in de paper dat it seem we cries ‘gainst cars dat let off all dah black smoke, finally reach guvment ears, an’ de Minister o’ Transport  now mekkin’ it a “matter o’ urgency” to change t’ings. Now, you know, my motto is “action speak louder dan words” so I waitin’ to see dese fine words turn into law, an’ not en’ up in dah overcrowded file “Number T’irteen”! Ness, you would believe dah ethuh guvment had a Environmental Management Act ’pon de books fuh years, an’ en do neffin ’bout it, an’ all dis time, we breavin’ in all dah pollution dat en good fuh we healf! ’Sence de present guvment come ’pon de scene, dem admit legislation wasn’ in place to allow dem to intervene to stop dis pollution, but “plans were afoot” to set t’ings right. Well, dem plans seem to tek foot an’ walk right outta duh t’oughts! Imagine, between de two guvments, it tek all dese years befo’ we could get any relief, but, better late dan never!  I now lookin’ forward to seein’ how guvment gine enforce dis law, ’cause we Bajans is a law unto weself nowadays! I was drivin’ behin’ a car de ethuh day dat only God mercy an’ scotch tape hol’in’ it togedduh! De smoke dah car belch out, gine up a incline, had muh wonderin’ ef it was ketchin’ a-fire!  But de law gine tek care o’ all dat – right?      Nex’ t’ing, I onderstan’ people sufferin’ at de han’s o’ any criminal ’bout hey, gine now be able  to get compensation in any o’ de Law Courts!  Befo’, only Magistrates had power to impose anyt’ing, but dis amen’ment to de Ack gine change all dah. Now, Judges from all Courts got dah power to use as duh see fit! Is true criminals get sen’  up to Dodds, or pay a fine, or get bine over to keep de peace, but wha’ ’bout all de sufferin’ victims go t’rough – mental an’ physical? Victims don’ get half de consideration duh deserve. Dis is a good move!’Now, I is one body dat feel airfares fuh travellin’ de Caribbean much too high, so I was glad enuff to read dat Mr Adrian Loveridge from de hotel industry, been suggestin’ dat guvment look at reducin’ de high taxes ’pon airfares to encourage mo’ Caribbean travel! Fares really too high, doh! No wonder some people prefer to put few mo’ dollars to de $800 fuh Trinidad or $1 000 to Guyana an’ go to Miami or New York to shop. I hope guvment look into dis matter, ’cause as you know, I en got no jet, nor I en know nobody wif one to gi’e muh a lif’!’Jes’ imagine! A Orstralian cookbook had to get reprint by de t’ousan’s, ’cause a recipe fuh pasta was callin’ fuh “salt an’ freshly ground black people”!   De publisher say it was jes’ a silly mistake,  but nuff people din’ see it dah way, an’ was blue vex! I cyahn blame dem!                                                     Tek care o’ yuhself,  
 Yuh frien’ Babsie                      

HOPE ALL good mothers enjoyed a happy Mother’s Day. My brother and his son would have visited my mum, as they regularly do, but on such a special day probably gave her flowers and carried her out for ice cream.For all of her friends who ask about her, the situation is still the same. She has some type of senile dementia with memory problems, so it became dangerous for her to live in her own apartment, even with “assisted living” services. Jean is still slim and fit and capable of walking miles and getting lost.So she is living on a “rehab” floor of a controlled building and getting good care. There are no phone facilities in rooms and she is incapable of using or answering a cellphone. The one phone is at the nurses’ station and only one or two next of kin should call – and not frequently.Imagine if you were one of the few, very busy staff running up and down on a floor with geriatrics, the vast majority of them having to be spoon-fed, tubed up, electronically connected to monitors/machines, wiped, diapered, catheter-changed, sponged, medicated, and so on! And friends of a patient kept calling!If by some miracle, the dear lady’s brain improves, she will call relatives, friends and acquaintances. I know all of those who are reasonable will understand and accept what I am sharing.However, there are two demanding, controlling, dictators – one a distant aunt in Trinidad, the other a man my mum once worked with in that country – who keep calling me ad nauseam. This after I have said to both of them: “I never, ever, want to speak with you again. Do not call me. Goodbye!”I have no friendship with this man, although he says “he feels like my uncle”. Very creepy! The aunt rants and raves about our side of the family not being “saved” in her church, in spite of our being believers our whole lives. She told my mum and grandmum when my younger sister was murdered: “You know she is going to hell!”  When my mum had all her marbles in the right slots I begged her to tell these two to stop calling me. I have been staying with Jean when she cried after getting upsetting calls from these two people, or received newspaper clippings of kidnappings and murders in Trinidad!But she was too much of a lady to put her foot down.  I, however, have no such inhibition. I don’t care what auntie not-dearest or mock “uncle” think of me. There is no point badgering me after I have said “no”.One of the claims from this man was that he loved my mum. She replied she loved him too. Yeah, right! She was just being polite and mushy-headed. The last time I told her this man was still calling me, she said: “Oh my God, is he still pestering you?”I wonder what they are going to do when God calls Jean’s number? Jump into the crematorium fire with her corpse à la suttee?Dawn Morgan is a NATION Senior Reporter (Advertising) who thinks people with problems accepting “No” need to call professional help. Phone 430-5495. [email protected]