YOU EN’ TO PLAY IN DE STREET
The village of Chimborazo sat atop the highest point on the island by the same name, Mt. Chimborazo. To the east, one could enjoy a view of the sparkling turquoise Atlantic Ocean pushing large white-capped waves on shore at Bathsheba. Round rock stood like a sentinel guarding the shore which was surrounded by numerous chattel houses and, slightly north, hotels taking advantage of sea access for their guests. In the distance, at Tent Bay, sat several wooden launches with fishermen nearby repairing their nets or cleaning their little boats.
Early mornings found Chimborazo slowly waking to the sound of reddifusion, crowing of roosters, and cooing of morning doves. The children began filtering onto the road, heading to the stand pipe for their morning wash up or to get a bucket of water to carry home so Mum could start the day’s cooking. Some children were fortunate enough to be able to play in the street – shooting marbles or chasing an old bicycle wheel using a stick to propel it along.
On this par
ticular morning, Stephen had already finished his chores – tying the cow out down in the gulley, washing down the pigpen, and milking the goats. He didn’t mind the chores so much; he actually liked the animals. But what he didn’t like was the Saturday butchering, when animals he had tended had to be killed. It hurt his heart no matter how many times he witnessed Dads wringing the necks of chickens or pick a pig to butcher. Anyway, Stephen was looking for something to do that morning. He watched the children run past the fence in front of the Braffitt home, but hesitated to go outside the yard; his father had strictly forbidden his children from playing in the street.
Stephen’s older brother, Percival, had left the house earlier to find a couple of friends. The three of them loved to make mischief and today was no different. They had found an old baby pram and came up with an idea… Percy hurried home to find Stephen still watching the other children.
“Stephen, cam, man. We gine have some fun!” And Stephen immediately followed his big brother up the hill a bit. The other two boys waited with the pram, wondering what Percy was up to. “Now, you get into dis ting,” Percy pointed to the pram while looking at Stephen. “You small nuff ta fit, nuh!”
Trusting his big brother, and wanting to be part of the group, especially with these older boys, Stephen carefully climbed into the rickety, woven basket on wheels. It crackled as he settled in and Stephen wondered if it would hold together under his weight. Percy pulled the hood up over it to hide Stephen inside and, suddenly, Stephen felt the pram rolling, slowly at first, but then faster and faster as Percy and the other two pushed it down the hill. It rolled so fast that they had to let loose and the pram veered wildly down the road with Stephen inside. With no way to steer it, the only thing Stephen could do was hold on for dear life.
As the pram neared the bottom of the hill at full speed, Stephen saw the corner turn with nothing but cane field ahead. Stephen knew he was going to crash so he braced as the pram became air-borne, turning over several times. When it stopped, it came to rest deep into the cane field and Stephen promptly jumped out. He didn’t want the other boys to catch up to him and make him go for another ride like that. But just as he jumped out of the pram, he recognized two short, stocky legs as those belonging to his father. Dads was furious; Stephen read the anger in his eyes before he heard his roaring voice. 
“Boy, wuh I tell you? I said you en’ to play in de street wid dem raggamuffins! No Braffitt gon’ look like a common street urchin long as I live!”
Then Stephen heard the familiar shoop sound as Mr. Braffitt pulled his three-inch leather belt out of the loops on his pants. He took off running so fast through the cane that his father couldn’t catch him. By the time he got out of the field, his arms and legs were striped with cuts from the blades of cane. He kept running until he reached home and ran into the kitchen where he found Mum cooking the noon meal.
“Cud dear, what happen to you, chil’?” Mum could not leave the food unattended, but she sent Stephen to clean up and change into fresh clothes. “You better now? You b’az set down and eat sumpin’ afor Derwin come in cuz once he get here, you sure bet you en’ gine get no food!”
Stephen tucked into the table, eating the provisions and saltfish as quickly as he could… “Mum, could ya pass de hot sauce?”
Bajan hotsauce story by: Jeanne