Brixton Bwoy. Rocky Carr
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ROCKY CARR
brixton bwoy
A NOVEL
First published in 1998 by
Fourth Estate An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF
Copyright © 1998 Rocky Carr
The right of Rocky Carr to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
The publisher and the author would like to thank Patricia Salkey for permission to reproduce ‘A Song for England’ by her late husband, Andrew Salkey.
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Source ISBN: 9780007291458
Ebook Edition © FEBRUARY 2016 ISBN: 9780007393404 Version: 2016-01-12
For my parents, andfor Jeremy and Judy
A Song for England
An a so de rain a-fall
An a so de snow a-rain
An a so de fog a-fall
An a so de sun a-fail
An a so de seasons mix
An a so de bag-o-tricks
But a so me understan
De misery o de Englishman.
Andrew Salkey
Contents
2 – Fish and Chips in the Snow
‘Have we got everyting?’ Pops called.
‘Yeah,’ came back the chorus.
‘Come on den, we go catch some fish.’
It was dark, pitch dark. There was no electricity in this part of Jamaica. It was rough country. From the hill near the house they could see the lights of distant towns, and Pupatee would sometimes stand there and admire the red and blue and white dots glowing in the darkness. But tonight they had their torches; Pops turned them upside down and soaked the wicks and lit them. The dogs drew back and spread themselves around the house, as if they understood they were in charge until the masters returned.
Pupatee and his older brother Carl, the last of the twelve brothers and sisters left at home, loved night fishing.
‘Why we go night fishing, Pops?’ Pupatee asked.
‘Because de fishes sleep at night,’ Pops said. His playful slap around the ear nearly took off Pupatee’s head. He was a big man, Pops, sometimes he didn’t know his own strength.
That afternoon, Pupatee and Carl had run home from school as fast as they could through the fields and forest, and over the streams and hills, ignoring the coconuts and cucumbers and guava and sugar-cane they could have picked along the way. They did not even stop in the mad woman’s orchards to steal her sweet limes or number eleven mangoes. When they got home, Mama gave them a good dinner of ackee and saltfish, with pumpkin and rice and avocado pears, and after they had eaten all they could, they took the herd down the river to drink. The animals sucked eagerly at the clear flowing water, which was so clean that the family would drink it straight from their cupped hands, and swim in it too on a scorching day.
While Pupatee and Carl had been away, Mama and Pops had cut some bamboo stems in the forest, and they were now working them into fish pots and spear sticks. The cattle were safely back in their pasture, so the boys joined in. They cut more lengths of bamboo at their joints, which formed a kind of cup. They pierced holes in the cups, poured paraffin through the holes into the lengths of bamboo below and rammed bits of crocos-bag material in after it.
When they were ready, Pops lit the boys’ torches and they walked in silence back down to the river. The night air was cool. Mama walked straight into the water with a fish basket which she held, gently moving, under the river banks. Suddenly she snatched it out and when the water had escaped there was a whole pile of fish