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Place Name Try See. Full Free come like rain on hot zinc and even Quashie who years ago loss his perfect balance with his toes walk straight and proud off that estate. Massa get compensate for loss of labour (a payout so great it nearly bankrupt England) but nothing more than himself would Quashie gain – not to say that isn’t plenty, but really? Nothing for the loss of toes, loss of language, loss of continent, loss of 400 years? Such tings could have turned Quashie bitter as susumba if he never decide his mind to shut his eye and give thanks for what could give thanks for – this plot of god-back land, this cyaa-grow-agoddamn-thing land, this labour-in-vain land, this ‘what to do but try and try fi tun mi hand make fashion’ land, try and try fi tun de tough grung over, try and try see what might come tomorrow. 66
page 69
What River Mumma Knows River Mumma knows things – the underground trod of Hector’s Spring, of One Eye River. The tributaries feed the red mangroves of Black River. Over 100 square miles of Great Morass are stomping ground of River Mumma. She knows rocks under which live large colonies of ‘shrimp’, or ‘swims’, depending on how you learnt to say things. She knows even more than Goby Fish where in river bottom alligator lives. Wag Water is her own most sacred home, secret place where is kept the famous golden comb. In Drivers River, Manchioneel, swim three lady manatees who are to mermaids as chimpanzees are to man. Some days River Mumma just sits cool on a bank, waiting for signs that prove the prehistoric cows still evolve towards the magic of herself. Somewhere in Martha Brae lies the body of Nora – selfish child who refused Dry River token portion of ackee – small toll for privilege of crossing; the girl insisted she would rather dead. Dry River call her bluff and come dung heavy pon her head. But River Mumma knows not all things ought to be known. Not all places ought to be found. She cries ‘Abu ye! Abu ye! Abu ye!’ and swims towards her ground. 67

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Try See. Full Free come like rain on hot zinc and even

Quashie who years ago loss his perfect balance with his toes walk straight and proud off that estate. Massa get compensate for loss of labour (a payout so great it nearly bankrupt England) but nothing more than himself would Quashie gain – not to say that isn’t plenty, but really? Nothing for the loss of toes, loss of language, loss of continent, loss of 400 years? Such tings could have turned Quashie bitter as susumba if he never decide his mind to shut his eye and give thanks for what could give thanks for – this plot of god-back land, this cyaa-grow-agoddamn-thing land, this labour-in-vain land, this ‘what to do but try and try fi tun mi hand make fashion’ land, try and try fi tun de tough grung over, try and try see what might come tomorrow.

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