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In the Garden City
by Mark Cassidy
All I’m sayin what I’m sayin is put yourself where your own self don’t belong going happen.
Huh? You know it? I’m just sayin.
For instance. Sunday lunchtime in the Garden City. Got you delta weather going on got sunshine and rain cool breezes off the sea sticky heat climb out the creeks and got three four five I don’t know how many million folks seem like they all of em all out movin at once movin all the time shufflin and shoutin pushin and lookin for somethin anythin get em till tomorrow and way down yonder in the middle down in the go-slow in the jam in the smoke and the smell and the noise got you oyinbo headin to the house after a mornin at the yard in along Trans Amadi takin care a business get ready for pay day comin on material comin in some shit.
Name a Plavic who he is. Big man ol Plavic. Oga what he is what he think he is set in back a that big ol bright red lookyhere look at me company pickmeup truck got the company badge all on the door like he somethin got a Jesus dolly danglin off on the mirror winkin and blinkin. Huh? Here come Plavic! He a big man! He somethin alright.
Got you cripples all stump and eyes biddy goats clamberin on garbage side a the road raggedy baldyheaded kids in and out the traffic got you hawkers they wobblyass racks sell every damn thing I’m sayin every damn thing you ain’t need got beggars all pushin and squeezin hangin on the handles on the tailgate on the hood runnin and holdin on shout mastah mastah help me mastah help me mastah but our boy he ain’t pay no mind to such nonsense cause he about a beat motherfucker what he is all squintyeyed neck gone loose head lollin. All he want all he waitin on this very minute get back to the house cause our boy been out all night long with his badass Balkan buddies his homies got him a posse a goofy fucks drinkin whiskey tappin that ass in clubs and bush bars round town but still he got to get it done for the company you know it do his duty fulfil his contract and so now here he is head poundin bone weary wore out but going be alright cause he thinkin get to the house and the housemaid sweet young thing child all she is ain’t but wearin a damn thing bubble butt ridin up high she going fix him a ice cool beer lead him gentle by the hand down the hall lay him on the bed and treat him fine treat him real fine.
What he thinkin.
Smile all on his face lean back give it up and let go eyes closed thinkin on good thoughts and so don’t see come out the alleys either side the express come leggin through the crowd men got guns got machetes be yankin on the doors pile into that big ol big man bright red company crew cab badge on the door Jesus hangin rattlin piece a shit like they already own the motherfucker shoutin screamin spittin tell the driver GO NOW! GO NOW! TURN HERE! GO! GO NOW! pointin they guns beat him upside the head Jesus dancin a jig all frantic and shit all shoutin at once in that tiny cab space and fore he even know what up oyinbo out there.
I’m sayin.
He out about far from anythin and anyone he can get just like that out from the clatter and the crowds and the shout and the smell from sweet dreams a titties and cold beer into the long ol sudden quiet I’m sayin quiet a what he always hope ain’t never would happen.
And but well y’all here it is.
You know it?
Time ol Plavic pay his bill.
Huh?
What you going do now big Oga man?
Well. Ask me best thing don’t say a damn word sit tight nod your head. Come down to his turn at long last and ain’t a damn thing to do cept whisper to Jesus twirlin yonder and hope these boys going feel like to come to some accommodation in a peaceful manner. Ain’t need to be spookin these boys none. Trigger happy what I’m sayin. Had a good run these many years in the Garden City ol Plavic. Fun times talkin like he know it like he done it givin orders and decrees and signals all type a nonsense settin up in the back seat keep his team in line time to time they get funny on him. Couple scrapes along the way is all most particularly and most recently the unfortunate and untimely demise of a bush gal with whom he was intimately acquainted but now he in a jam. Now he in close quarters and time come to pay up.
Maybes a way off through the cracked to shit windshield be some barefoot skinnyass kids playin football a hair all fell out dog snufflin in circles through the long grass congregation someplace singin in a no glass in the windows gaps in the walls dirt floor Apostolic Church a the Living Embers a Jesus be all in there swayin together bobbin they heads chantin and praisin and wavin clappin they hands passin over what scraps a pitiful crumpleup money they got so the pastor they daddy be drivin that big ol V-boot round town.
Shoo.
And boys ain’t be wearin no masks. Give a rat’s ass knows who they are. Come on! Ain’t a swingin dick going do a damn thing get in they way. Ain’t afeart a shit. Ain’t afeart a me even I’m damn sure. Back seat longside ol Plavic Scarface call him on account he been in more battles than a scabbyass alley cat tell the driver get his sorry ass out the door and fore that poor boy his flipflop feet even touch the ground Slimboy up front lean across and shoot him back a the head neat as can be and closin the door on his dead ass fore even his body done fell in the dirt.
Inside the cab all boom and bang oyinbo piss his pants boys laughin but outside? Maybe the dog lift his head a minute sniff the breeze. Kids carry on with they game. Noise ain’t trouble them none less they up real close. Singin in the church go on beat the band callin to God and got you four killers Jesus and oyinbo in a puddle a piss all in a crew cab in the Garden City and any hope a help bout far off as it all can get.
Down yonder?
Put yourself going happen.
Mark Cassidy is a Scots born Canadian (emigrated after school) but unfortunately is not able to spend much time in either country since he works far away from home most of the time. Over the years he has worked in several dodgy corners of the world, one of them being West Africa, where this particular story is set.
