“Yuh tink me an yuh a size!”
Almost every Jamaican child has heard this volley back at them in the heights of their misbehavior. It is no simple utterance and must be taken as a premeditated threat with serious repercussions to follow, which aims to put you back into your place.
As I close my eyes and focus on the Almighty, this is the volley of words that ring through the worthless representation of a wall of Seaview Gardens homes that expose me to the discourse and constant ranglings from next door. To cope, I have become numb to much of their goings on.
Unfortunately, my attitude is, “If dem waan kill each other, have at it.”
The developers of this community, Matalon, or whomever, should be lashed and quartered for the criminally small houses they build for poor Jamaicans. While they live in football field type houses, the man on the flat can only keep his bed and whatnot in one position and can barely turn in the kitchen.
I have also recently learned that the cement bricks were not filled, which explains why one can easily hear yuh neighbours business. This also means that if you plan to build a second level, foundation walls must be installed to bear the weight. I know there will be a judgement for these crimes against humanity.
“Yuh tink me an yuh is size!”
“Leave me alone nuh.”
“Come yah, yuh nuh hear me a chat to yuh? Weh yuh a go? Come yah!”
“Me ago tell mommy!”
“Yuh tink yuh bad. Yuh nuh hav nuh mannas.”
And this is the inheritance acting out; the generational curse. Funny to think that this episode was played out by one family member to the next over the years since I have lived here. The perpetuation of abuse passed on from parent to child, from sibling to younger sibling. Many times it sounds like the vipers of hell are at war and everything in their path is being devastated.
It ought not to be, I pray this changes.
Sharing a wall is not a good experience when you live with such inconvenience every day. But I have found a place of zen in God and sometimes I make it there. These days, I let my spirit loose in prayer and pray that things get better for them.
But, there are many a nights that I have wisheded for grenades with pinpoint precision; on other occasions, I don’t even know what missive is uttered between God and the Holy Spirit within me. But I do know that God loves all men and they are deserving of his peace, so I pray they inherit theirs as well.
The quiet that follows my prayers usually lets me know that something occurred in the spiritual to impact the physical realm. Like now, I contend with house sound system, while trying to sleep. So I pray and pray and pray; later the volume decreases.
I will take that as a win for Christ; but, the battle continues…
Copyright © 2015, Denise N. Fyffe
About the writer:
Poetess Denise N. Fyffe has worked in Information Technology positions for fifteen years. She is also a trained counselor and teacher. Meeting the challenges of the recession head on, she transitioned into being a successful freelance writer for many local and international clients.
She has published many books of including: