A Boy once lived with a monster
He could describe to detail the feel of the ridges of it’s hand like a pirate with a treasure map
or the taste of blood flowing in the Red Sea of his mouth from the slaps he received daily
In his mind he knew horror movies got it wrong with monsters
How could they not have, he called his monster Papa
Papa had super powers in an ordinary way with
how he could camouflage his demon traits in the public eye
with a smile worthy of a toothpaste advert , a member of the choir and bank manager.
he bedazzled the public with his facade
Mama knew the language the monster’s belt spoke, the fists’ music and the legs’ rocky vibe too
She hid the scripts it left on her face with her makeup kit every morning
If scars could speak for mama they would tell a tale of a pathos journey
A young krio girl finding love and eloping with a handsome dude in college, a love child sealing the union…
disconnecting ties with her family for a love that had now gone awry
Mama replays the story in her mind so much that I can read the emotions on her facial features
A grimace for the first time Papa hit her and then apologised…
a sigh for the first full beating..
a tear drop for it becoming routine…
and sobbings for the disbelief whenever she shares her pains with another…
that never helps, the last reprisal beating left mama in a coma for 3 days..
The neighbours heard she fell down the stairs
.Papa is such a great actor,
he switches roles more than Johnny Depp in a Tarantino movie..
a horrible movie…no wonder our life is a nightmare,
The one you scream to hoarse nothiness and no one hears your silent cry for help
The reverie is cut short by the sounds of a Mercedes honk outside
Mama wipes her face with her tear soaked sleeves and says to the boy
‘Na im don kam so e chak wan, tday we day lef ya’
The boy nods with a blaze in his eyes,
He had lost count at his 172 beating
Friday nights were hell
Brandy bottle in hand the monster kicks the door in and staggers towards the boy
‘ You nr sabi open you dorti mot greet you papa’ he says
Two blows descend and Mama rushes in like a sacrificial lamb protecting her son
The monster fumes and intensifies the pounding
crawling soldiers always pray they aren’t the next prey on enemies snipers scope but mothers always ignore those reasoning for their children
A glint of silver plunges twice followed by a scream
‘ Wai e don kill me’
3 , 4 , 5 ….10..the boy strikes at the one he once called Papa , to him a Monster
The crescendo of the mother’s screams starts
‘ Aaa me pikin watin you don do’
with a glazed expression bereft of regret the boy gazed at the fallen demon and the abused angel crying over
The irony was striking..
He knew pain, this was a different kind.
hushed cries and pocket conversations became phone calls that brought the cops.
The boy was arrested
The mama sobbed silently
The monster lay dead.
..and all the neighbours could say to the cops was
‘ e bin did day beat the borbor and e mama pasmak..
Yet the silent question was…
“Why una none nr ever stop am or report am?”
and that Question no one answered.