Mini Blagues From Trinidad
Kenneth and Cheryl Lans
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2009 Cheryl Lans
978-0-9783468-7-4
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List of contents
The Mongoose Prosecutor Meets The Judge Of No Recourse
School Days Are Happy Days
The Cane Special
The Snake Bottle
The Sweetest Ear, the Sweetest Cane
A Trinidad oilfield in the ‘50s
The Trucker’s Nightmare
Memories of Christmas past
The Ortoire River
Otto’s Family Tree
The Mongoose Prosecutor Meets The Judge Of No Recourse
An argument flared some years ago between a chicken and an egg.
The chick claimed that he was the first one on the scene, and that the egg had no leg on which to stand and boast, since all his counter-claims were bad. “Not so!” said the egg in dudgeon high, at such a preposterous proposition.“The claims you so stupidly make, are quite out of the question!”
By night and day, and from day to week, they continued to argue and to seek for an acceptable and agreeable solution, until the day, both fed up to ‘here’ they decided to plead their cases without fear to the first one to come along. Quite impatiently they sat to wait, for someone wise to settle the fate of the lengthy and bitter controversy, when suddenly, out of nowhere came a long and distinguished-looking snake!
“Good morning, Mr. Snake,” the chicken said, striving to get the first word in.“That’s not fair!” the egg declared, “you’re trying to influence him!” “What manner of egg are you, to make of such a simple greeting a great and loud ‘to do? I suspect your noise is but a cover-up. For your arguments are so few, that you have resorted to a ruse just the learned judge to confuse,” the chicken retorted in a fit of passion. Then to the snake slithering slowly forward he outlined the reasons for their bitter and heated quarrel.
“Things are getting quite out of hand, if two such close relatives as you happen to be, resort, to a Judge of the Lowest Court of Law. But justice delayed is justice denied, and I have no time to waste. In the mater of ‘Who was first’ I shall promptly adjudicate. I shall now use the alphabet to decide whose plea should first be fairly entertained by me.
And I’m sure both my learned friends, will agree that precedence plainly goes to this learned chicken in his fancy clothes, to which some day the other Advocate will clearly aspire. ‘Nothing’s wrong with that!’, I always say, ‘fine feathers make fine birds, and fine birds these days are seldom found! (“in an aside by me!”). Approach the Bench, and speak loudly, for my sight and hearing are not as sound as my considered opinions and judgment.
Whereupon the chicken embarked with poise, and legal hauteur on his lengthy dissertation. His choice words and elegant phrases, seemed to make the judge very stimulated, for he coiled and unraveled, and coiled yet again, while taking in every legalistic word. His eyes were intent and very fixed, his mouth would split with a smile. His tongue forked in and out, as though testing, at times, or tasting or responding to some humor. And oft he would say “Speak up! Or come a little closer! ”Finally the chicken made his closing remarks, and looked around to take his seat, so that egg could begin his address. When in a surprise move, the judge confessed, that the chicken had won the day.
“Come here my friend, I am so impressed, with your skilled and persuasive presentation, I hope you will consider a belated invitation. We will sup with wine and liqueurs so fine, they’ll make your feathers curl. I loved the way you raised the points, that egg himself would have done, and with polished and subtle reasoning, you knocked them down one by one. I have another case to hear, and I’ll be glad for your advice. Two heads are better than one, is often said, and in this case I do agree, for you brought out the argument’s meat, with a passion and such heat that you reminded me of me.”
So proud and pleased at the judge’s remarks the learned chicken was that he threw caution to the winds. With head held high on neck outstretched, he gave forth with the victor’s cry. And while chicken was loudly crowing, the judge like the snake that he was, made both his play and his summation, his coils and words revealing his intention. “You wrapped up the case as tightly as you will be wrapped up by me. And in my law books, with your looks, you will come before egg any day. He has no legs and can’t run away, so onto him I’ll pass judgment too. Egg will come a very close second, as soon as I’ve finished with you!”
“This is a travesty of justice! I want to appeal to a higher court.” The chicken squawked and fluttered wildly, as he felt the coils closing in. Judge Snake said, “It’s useless, to struggle against the Law. Look around, you’ll see its coils, twisting and turning in all directions, pressing in on all your sides. It’s really quite breath-taking. You might just as well give in. “If it’s your desire to go any higher, I’ll climb that tall tree with you. But you will be in me, with egg beside you, if not on your bloodied face!”
With the last dying breath, that he was able to muster chicken said “This foolish argument, and my stupid pride have put me in these fatally strangling coils. Although the judge ruled in my favor and I won the case with my toil, I regret I was first after all. I would have preferred to be last, a sentence of hard labor to pass and that the Judge should fast, instead of my passing away.” The judge was too busy to answer, for the chicken got in his mouth’s way. “That was a splendid corpus delecti, and for dessert I will have ovum in shell, for I need a balanced diet. Then I will recess, some sleep to get, tranquility, and quiet to consult, all the eminent legal luminaries, make judicial contact by fax and the telephone, read my transcripts thoroughly, and give due and careful consideration before I transmit my determined decision, on the outcome of this all-absorbing case. Once again justice has prevailed, and the Law and the Order expounded. Of which came first and which came last, to me have all the merits redounded. I can truthfully say, and if you insist, that I cease and desist, I will. Of this case I have had my fill!
But somehow I have a nagging doubt that I may have acted quite prematurely. For Rules of Natural Justice clearly state that both sides must be fairly heard. Thus I crave my near-late learned friend’s pardon, for my eyes were only on the late learned bird! Now what have you to say in your defense before you join your friend by sentence? Unfortunately I’m legally obliged to listen but please be brief, for a torpid somnolence creeps over me, and before I sleep I must hear and record every word.
“M’Lord, nothing I say will save the day. Darkness has already befallen my friend, the late great Advocate of Chicken Primacy. Any fool can see that the same self-same fate is to be my final destiny.” The egg replied quite calmly, and though his exterior did not quiver, he plainly felt the little chicken inside his still-whole shell shake and shiver.
“You have both come to untimely grief, appearing with such a silly brief, I consider it really quite appalling, for had you opened and checked The Supreme Book, Page one, Chapter one, Versus twenty to twenty four in the very first book, the Book of Genesis, You would have seen no mention of any egg before, and not a suggestion, in that busy week of the Creation, of one that surely came after!
I promise however, to be gentler, for from an egg too, was I born. I’ll take great care in swallowing, that your shell remains untorn. After I have fully digested the salient facts, I will invite all other interested parties to come forward and make further submissions. For not only is my reputation at stake, but my future, and my very survival! So chicks and eggs come and state your case Judge Snake will be in his chambers.
If you don’t come, I’ll seek you out, and pass judgment, without any spoken words. My Wheels of Justice move slowly, but my coils grind extremely fine. Some times it quite bothers me that I treat the parties so differently, the egg’s submissions I can swallow whole, and take with not a grain of salt, with scarcely a crack on the shell. But the chicken’s erudition is greater, and he I cannot swallow very well.
Thus he was both the winner and the loser of this case I fear, somewhat by default. I had to take him securely, and look, from every angle to ensure that no facts nor feathers escaped my close attention. It surely was much more time-consuming but the attendant rewards I shall not mention.
This matter is adjourned, for a date to be fixed, till then it is sub judice, and held in abeyance. It will please the Court whose opinions are now thoroughly mixed to have some other legal appearance, in case the plaintiff and the complainant, are unavoidably detained in another forum. My judgments though always fatal, are never final, for that will certainly end my distinguished and for me, lucrative profession. And I come from a long line of lawyers that started just after The Blessed Creation.
All of my forbears have instructed me, to listen, and to act with great discretion. ‘The day you give a final decision, is the day we all shall surely die!” But my forbears were noted liars, so whom should I trust or believe? It sometimes hurts to eat the evidence, or the ones putting forward the case. But I have my appetite to consider, and the lineage of my famous race. So here’s to chicks, and here’s to eggs! As long as their arguments prevail. I shall use my wits and then my tail, to provide me with needed sustenance. If they can’t find another resolution, on such a trivial matter of precedence I shall continue to give legal admonition, with my lethal brand of jurisprudence! I have done my duty well today! The fees I charged were so reasonable that no one asked for time to pay. I dined on chicken delight with feathers followed by chicken au clair in shell!
No one has left my court dissatisfied, I gave absolutely nothing away, for all the words, and every thought, I uttered, were returned to me, to be re-cycled in my next court. My greatest fear is that some day, everyone will see eye to eye. When that sad occurrence happens, my kinfolk and I will surely die.
The fame of Judge Snake was spread, far and wide, for he carefully ensured, that what he didn’t want to hide, was always somehow leaked. The Chicken Press, radio and television, commented on some of his trials (Special Edition!) He became the newest ‘go to’ sensation, and his name was a poultry-pen word, used by mother-hens on their chicks, when parental wrath was incurred. He often appeared on ‘Issues Live’, to discuss at length Tissues Dead. His beady eyes, and quick reflexes, inspired respect, fear and dread.
Crowds converged on his chambers, seeking advice on matters of great import, none, fortunately unfortunate to be invited in, left. So absorbed with close rapport, as his head swayed in mesmeric dance, his un-blinking eyes, and silky tones, held them transfixed in deadly trance, closer drawn were they to his capricious folding robes and his stealthily enveloping coils.He spoke knowingly and at length, Of the Law of Supply and Demand, The Laws of Survival and of Diminishing Returns, The Laws of No Recourse and No Appeal, And The Law of Natural Selection. They swallowed the learned discourse, with avid and concentrated attention, carefully listening without even a pause, until they felt severely constricted, by the smooth and tightly wound up, summation, and found themselves restricted, to provide His Lordship with a meal.
His mealtimes were many and filled with such bounty he never had to go hunting either for his breakfast or his dinner. His exercises were coil-flexing and squeezing the life from his victims to prolong his own. He fed them advice which he swallowed again, together with those ensnared and in pain. “M’Lord! You are getting besides yourself!” Some in belated alarm would say, as coil was stacked upon coil, their futile struggles he would foil, sometimes to reply with mortal relish, “Oh, you’ve finally noticed? Yes, I do that rather well!
One does very naturally, what one is born to do. I was born to naturally flex, to stealthily coil, and to squeeze! Inbred talent reinforced with diligent practice, has given me great skill if you please! I cannot take arguments piece-meal, to dissect, and check for any flaw. I have to swallow the whole long story, and store it in my capacious maw, then choose what I want to believe. It is not such an easy exercise as some would make you want to think. I readily absorb the valid opinions, for they keep me very much alive. I always excrete the others that stink, for on them I cannot thrive. At times the arguments are so pointed, as to be potentially dangerous when they pass slowly down. First I have to grind, then to polish away hidden barbs and taunts that could harm the Inner Sanctum’s passageway.
On those I spend considerable time, weighing both the ‘pros’ and the ‘cons’, and when the ‘pros’ are fully digested, the ‘cons’ are then finally ejected. Judging is never an easy task, for not only do I have to consider what’s right and wrong. I have to decide what’s right for me, though sometimes I may need, to listen quite long to the many sides of the story. Some may say I’m a self-seeker, that may have been true some time ago, but I have got so involved with my judging practice, that it is no longer really so. I am sought out for consultations, advice on mergers, and divorce. I always prefer the last mentioned, because I get two for the price of one. It warms the cockles of this serpentine heart, to bring the parties closely together, and to see them accept my ruling, that they must see eye to eye. It’s not just one figurative feather, but two, for this legal cap I wear, and I mark them ‘his’ and ‘hers,’ until some other case I hear.”
Eventually the snake’s depredations were noticed by the farmer who owned the poultry pen. He decided with the help of his friends to stage a trial of his own. He built his courthouse bright and breezy, so that all invited could not only see all of the action, but to bet on the outcome if they wished. He caught Judge Snake and put him in the cage and the Judge was quite outraged. “I’ll have you fined for Contempt of Court or even have you thrown in jail! Release me at once, or you will regret, that you ever tangled with me!” Of course the farmer only heard the hissing sound, and there was no interpreter around, so the judge’s objections were overruled like those of all his former victims. He took his seat and fell silent, wondering what was coming next.
The noise of the crowd grew louder when the prosecutor was introduced, for they liked his agile behavior and the way he was spruced. Immediately the stakes were raised and the tempers quickly followed suit. The judge was confused and then elated at what he thought was a large rat. He felt the show was being put on because he was fat and they wished to watch him feed.“Let them bloody well wait! This is below my dignity. I prefer to dine privately in quiet places, and this noise is upsetting to me.” He settled down within his coils seemingly to drift off to sleep, but his beady eyes and his forked tongue shifted ever so slightly, when he heard, the prosecutor utter his first word. “This is no ordinary Rat I hear, his language is strange to me, and if the speech is foreign, it must mean they imported, from far-off lands a rare delicacy, just to try and tempt me.
Lately I was getting tired of chicken, for breakfast, dinner, and high tea. A change in my diet quite suits me, especially when it is free.” Now quite interested in the possibility, of a welcome change in meal content, M’Lord raised his fearsome head, and some of his coils he unbent. He opened his beady eyes fully, and flicked out his dreaded tongue. He began his sinuous ‘danse macabre’, with his usual practiced grace. Fully expecting the furred lawyer to freeze before he applied his squeeze. Remarkably! The lawyer had other thoughts, about losing his case to the Judge. He knew fully well what he had to serve, and it was surely not a dish. He started to show his fancy legal moves, his rapid foot work and sharp white teeth.
And so they danced the dance of death, life to the victor the prize supreme, perhaps, for just a short while yet. Every time the Judge was poised to strike the prosecutor changed his style. Frustrated, then angry at the flouting of his Laws, His Lordship lost his cool, and flung his head forward with wide-opening jaws, as he was wont and wanted to do. Intending to hold the upstart prosecutor, who dared to challenge his laws of no recourse and no appeal. But where he bit was empty space, and of the creature he saw no trace, until quite suddenly – he felt him!
Razor-sharp teeth held him fast, at the back near-bottom of his head, Desperate now, and racked with pain, He flung his tail quite recklessly this way, and that, and back again. But the mongoose was too fast for him, deftly avoiding his thrashing coils. Soon the Snake Judge was in death throes, and I thought I heard his dying words: “I could have fared much worse, been an anonymity; rather than an example of, The Law of Survival, the Law of Diminishing Returns, plus the Judge of no recourse and no appeal.
And thus a thriving practice was foiled. No one had heard any charges read. He was not even called to plead. Nor were any witnesses called to be instructed and carefully led, up all the paths the Law allows. It was just Natural Summary Justice with a real live show and quick dispatch, and with the vanquished dead or dying, there was no need for an Appeal. The snake’s skin was cured and cut to make a pair of fashionable shoes with belt to match, and purse to clutch, for the farmer’s wife to sport. But elsewhere the Law continues until some day, everyone will see eye to eye. When that glad occurrence happens, Adversarial law will surely die.
School Days Are Happy Days
In some ways a famous literary magical boarding School reminds me (CL) of my own secondary school St. Peters. Although it was located in the Caribbean it had British teachers and structure. It was a co-ed boarding school taking pupils from ages 11 to O-levels but we boarded during the week and inhaled home-cooked food on the weekends. There was no A-levels equivalent unfortunately. All of St. Peter’s students had parents who worked for Texaco. Like the magical boarding school we did not have to write an entrance exam. The fees were minimal and we did not have to go to a special street to buy textbooks – they belonged to the school. We had houses of course. My siblings and I were in Falcons, Eagles were considered good by the Falcons but not the Hawks. There were prefects, both for the school and the boarding house. One of them abused his power so greatly that my class clapped when we heard that another more respected student had broken his leg in a soccer game, and some of them weren’t even boarders! They lived close enough to travel to school every day. Our class got into trouble for that but we did not get detentions.
We had a high table in the boarding house for the boarding house masters and we each had a week to serve their food and sit at the table. I would trade food I detested like Sheppard’s Pie for fruit salad later in the week. We had two homework periods in the afternoons where we all sat together. We did detentions there too. We sometimes played girls against the boys games; I don’t recall us girls winning any.
Our journeys to school each week were by bus coming from three or four of the company’s production fields. Unfortunately my closest male friend died in a school bus crash in the middle of our O-Levels. It was just before his family migrated to Canada so he was visiting a friend from another production field and coming back to school from there. We called our teachers Sir, including the few female ones, and they were committed to turning out well-rounded students. Unfortunately the secondary school was closed some years after I left, leaving the primary schools that fed into it open. Like that famous literary school of magic a good school can turn out great people no matter what their background.
The Cane Special
There has always been scorn in Trinidad for those who had more “book sense” than “common sense” and many references to the old saying that experience is a good teacher. That may be true, but what if you are unwilling to learn? In our days at Naparima College in San Fernando there were several ways of using the lunch hour and one of the most interesting involved sweet sugar cane. During the harvesting of the sugar cane crop there were several trains which moved the canes from the sugar estates and the various weighing scales to the factories for processing into sugar. The first railway for cane transport was built in 1859 by William Eccles so that farmers could get their canes to sea at the mouth of the Cipero River- the Cipero Cross. Some years later in 1882 the railway was extended to San Fernando to the terminus at the Wharf. Later still a new railway crossing was added to extend rail traffic to Siparia. At that time Cipero Cross became known as Cross Crossing.
“Making warm” and “more worse” are just a literal translation from the French phrase. Other Trini expressions are tautologies which are popular in Trinidad “Cross Crossing”, “back backing”, “reverse back”, “a ton load” and “yeah oui”, are some of the more famous tautological phrases. Flat Rock could be considered one also. It is an offshore shelf past Lady Hailes Avenue and the Wharf where bathers can walk out for miles at low-tide.
The train we were most familiar with travelled from Cross Crossing past Flat Rock on the way to San Fernando and thence to the factory. I never knew what it was called by others but we called it the Cane Special since it appeared sometime during the lunch hour, and provided an opportunity for us to obtain a supply of canes for our own use.
Some pupils would approach the track and await its arrival, while others were only galvanized into action by the sound of its warning whistle. The track which we used to access the railway line was a very narrow pathway through the bushes which covered the hill leading from the College yard. It was made on “Sapotay” mud (heavy clay) which became very slippery when it was wet. There was one portion where the whole section dropped sharply due to a previously occurring landslide. Because of this, users of the pathway had to pause at the end of one section and then jump down to the other plane. That top section provided an opportunity that was too good for us mischief makers to pass up.
We realized that if it was properly wet it would be almost like a surprise ski jump to anyone running full tilt down the hill, and we proceeded to fashion our launching pad with whatever means came readily to hand. We went to the railway track, keeping one eye on both tracks to see what was developing on both. The Special appeared and sounded its whistle, and true to form, the dashing figure of the school prefect we had expected to appear came onto the dirt track, and we were not disappointed in the fulfillment of our mischievous plan. When our victim’s foot hit the moist portion of the pathway he was well and truly launched. The sight of him scrambling to recover his balance made us laugh so hard that we were almost helpless on the track, until the whistle again warned us of the train’s approach. That lunch hour was one of the few when we did not get any cane for our trouble. We were too busy laughing!