Dr Fixit (191 - 200)

 191

'the owner to start a fight to showcase 

they have such awesome power encased 

in their frames. Evil won't stop poking its feet

around for trouble.' Mama Moonit

asked: 'Who is evil: the tenant or landlord?'

'The ring,' my grandma replied. 'That's absurd,'

Mama Moonit cut in. 'We're at the crossroads

of what's good and what's evil. To get the power notes

from a defaulting tenant, where persuasion 

had failed, I'd use force.' With that notion 

192

the younger sprightly woman was up.

She got up with her pear and corncob.

'The truth is there's a good force and a bad one.

When your anger is red-hot, you are torn

about what actually is the truth. There's a thin line 

drawn between good and evil.' Mama Moonit's spine

was now facing grandma. 'Halt. I know you're a very 

busy woman. First, take these to your family.,'

Mama Moonit turned and took the bowl of corn 

and pears. 'Thank you,' she said and did turn 

193

her feet in the direction she had come 

to the kitchen. Out of sight, we continued to warm 

our bodies by the fire, eating our corn

and pears. Up in my head, my thoughts were on

when the moon would emerge and the kids 

would call for other kids to join them to skip,

dance and tell tales in the moonlight.

After our meal, my feet was really light 

running errands from the kitchen 

to main building and back. I almost tripped on a kitten 

194

which had strayed from a neighbour's home 

through the hedge to our courtyard. The moon shone,

just a tip of it at the horizon, when the back door 

of the house Big Mama locked. In the parlour 

we buckled down to peel the melon seeds.

In my head, I sought the come-out call from other kids.

Not long, I heard: 'Tududu!' I looked up

at Big Mama's face and she gave me the nod

I was free to leave. I leapt out with a second 'Tududu!'

and my resounding response, 'Uhdudu!'

195

The entire neighbourhood was a buzz

with children's voices making the familiar calls

to play in the moonlight. It was a tradition 

passed on from our forebears, a means to motion 

the core values of our clans. Through play,

we were shone how to be brave and kind. In a way, we were taught to know for every deed,

there's a reward for being good or bad. Indeed,

the hero fared well while the villain

fared badly. Though it seemed the blame

196

we sometimes shared to a third party -

I was thinking of the drama early 

of where in the argument Mama Moonit 

had asked my grandma who should be hit

or spared with the hammer of blame -

the landlord or the tenant but grandma did name 

the ring. Why would a ring and not the fighters 

be blamed? If the event was contrary, would the shutters

of jail close on the ring or who wore it?

In all the folktales I'd heard, who did commit 

197

a vice suffered the negative outcome.

I thought of tortoise and hare, who had run 

without giving up worn as who slept,

though he ran like electric current, failed.

I thought of the tale of lion, monkey 

and tortoise. Tortoise mentioned a third party 

to deceive lion and help his good friend,

monkey, escape. I wish to attend 

henceforth every moonlight session 

and see in every tale told where the attention 

198

was directed to the third party 

or in the alternative, I'd asked my granny.

'Tududu-uhdudu' brought out youngsters 

in the neighbourhood to my grandmother's 

front yard - from the street, over the gutter

to the kiosk, the gardens and the verandah 

of the big house that a eatery and welder 

had their shops. While a fair number 

of kids sat around a sand heap where a loop

had been buried, each had a round they took

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a jab in the sand to pull it out. Who had

success with their attempt won. One lad

or lass could do the hiding as the others 

put their best effort to uncover 

the hidden loop and who won most

would take the place of the host

and the former host would join the others 

to seek for the loop. I didn't need orders 

to describe this game so well for you.

Remember, my name is Digit and quite true, 

200

the loop-seeking game was where I'd love 

to be, before joining the blind man's buff 

and then hide-and-seek. 'Tududu-uhdudu,' 

we would gather to listen to who

would make a beehive quiet as an anthill

with the fabulous tale they would spill.

Much as I would stretch my memory,

the best spinners of these tales - anything contrary,

let me know - were girls. In my class,

Moonit was our best story-spinning lass.