by Sam Selvon
While the other fellars calling out to one another to watch how Tanty dancing with Harris, Five was real high, out of this world, a kind of frozen smile on his face, and a look in his eyes as if he seeing things men does only see in their dreams. But he was quick enough on the draw to see the white girl stand up there helpless while Tanty take Harris away.
‘Moses,’ Five say, ‘look one of Harris distinguished guests stand up there by sheself.’
‘Go and dance with she, Galahad,’ Moses say, urging him on, but Galahad hanging back.
‘I bet you I dance with she,’ Five say.
‘I bet you you don’t,’ Moses say.
Five went up to the girl before she had time to make her way back to the table. Nobody don’t know to this day what Five tell the girl, if he just pick she up and start to dance or if he say may I have this dance or if he say shall we. Afterwards he tell the boys he only went up and wink at she and she was in his arms before he know what was happening. But whichever way it was, Five was closehauling this number like if the band playing a slow, sentimental fox instead of ‘Fan Me Saga Boy Fan Me’.
Half the boys saying, ‘Look how Tanty have Harris!’ and the other half saying, ‘Look at the old Five beating close to the wind with Harris girl!’
Somehow or other Harris manage to get loose from Tanty and rush to where Moses and Galahad standing.
‘Moses!’ he say, ‘I will really have to put Five Past Twelve out of the hall. He has been smoking weed and he is not responsible for his actions.’
‘Take it easy,’ Moses say, ‘the old Five enjoying himself. You can’t see the girl dancing with him? If she didn’t want to dance she didn’t have to.’
‘Well, I don’t like it,’ Harris say. ‘The next time I have a fete, attendance will be by invitation only. You boys always make a disgrace of yourselves, and make me ashamed of myself.’ And Harris went off like a steam engine.
‘What is the trouble here?’ Big City say, coming from the Gents where he was hitting an end of weed that Five pass on to him.
‘You missing big times,’ Galahad say. The quarrel between them was long forgotten. ‘Harris was dancing with Tanty, and now he vex that Five dancing with one of his girls.’
‘Look at the old Five, man!’ Moses say, admiring the dancers.
‘Big City,’ Galahad say, suddenly remembering the time in Hyde Park when Big City did jockey him to stand up on the platform and address the crowd, ‘I bet you not as brave as Five. I bet you don’t go and ask the other girl to dance – that one over there by the table sitting down with them two fellars.’
‘Ah,’ Big City say, ‘who want to dance with them — up people? Harris always bringing some of them ladeda here.’
‘I bet you don’t,’ Galahad say.
‘You talking to Big City, boy,’ Big City say.
‘Ten like you don’t,’ Galahad say.
‘I mad to go over there and ask she to dance,’ City mutter.
‘Harris will throw you out if you interfere with his distinguished guests,’ Galahad say.
‘You don’t know Big City, boy,’ Moses join the jockeying. ‘You really don’t know Big City, else you wouldn’t talk so.’
By this time Big City was flying across to the table. Again, nobody ever get to find out what Big City say or what he do. Some of the boys say it was because the other girl was dancing with Five, and that give she courage. But however it was, the girl get up and start to dance with Big City.
‘Galahad,’ Moses say, standing up in the corner and watching the proceedings, ‘the things that happening here tonight never happen before. I have a feeling you will see a lot before this fete over. Watch yourself, and if you see fight run like hell, because if things open up hot I outing off fast.’
At this stage the fete in full swing, nearly everybody dancing, only the old Moses stand up in the corner with Galahad, telling him ballads about the fetes that gone before, and lowdown about some of the boys.
‘I don’t see Cap dancing,’ Galahad observe.
‘Cap take up two girl and he gone home long time,’ Moses say. ‘He don’t stick around much if he could pick up something.’
‘Bart look like if he drunk.’
‘Poor fellar, he must be still studying that girl what let him down. He thought he might have found her here – when he first come in you didn’t see how he went through the hall like a detective looking at everybody? Bart would never find that girl again, but he won’t take my advice.’
‘I see Daniel buying a lot of drinks for them girls,’ Galahad say.
‘That is his line, man. He like to do things like that. You will notice that the boys bring in a lot of girls, but don’t buy anything for them – they just leave it to the old Daniel, and if he lucky when the fete finish he get to go home with one of them.’
Well things warm up fast in St Pancras Hall that Saturday night. Around half-past ten a Jamaican fellar bust a cocacola bottle over Five head because Five was dancing too close with his girl. Big City finish dancing and he beating pan in the steel band and every now and then jumping up when the weed hit the sky and screaming out for everybody to dance or come and beat pan in the band. Bart drunk as hell and he sitting in a corner holding his head and staring into space. Tanty pulling Tolroy away from his woman saying that she tired and want to go home. Lewis like if he is the happiest man in the hall how he get this divorce from Agnes, and he going to everybody and telling them how he used to thump she every night.
It look as if Moses know everybody in the hall, for it ain’t have a fellar who pass what didn’t ask him what happening.
‘How you know so much people, boy?’ Galahad ask.
‘I didn’t come to London yesterday,’ Moses say. ‘I was among the first set of spades what come to Brit’n. And then, it ain’t have so many places the boys could go to, so you bound to meet them up sooner or later. Long time was the old Paramount in Tottenham Court Road. I mean, them was days. It don’t have nothing like that again.’
‘Better fete than this?’ Galahad ask.
‘Better fete than this!’ Moses say. ‘Boy, this ain’t nothing. The boys used to overflow into the road when it had a lime there on a Saturday. One time a Jamaican fellar take off all his clothes to fight an Irishman opposite a pub there. And talk about weed! Everybody used to be as high as the sky.’
‘You ever hit a weed Moses?’
‘Sure I hit a weed, I do everything for experience.’
‘How you feel when you smoke it?’
‘At first you feel bad but afterwards like nothing matter in the world. You will die laughing at anything, and you feel as if you walking on air. But I don’t bother with that again. One year I was working in the Post Office – every year around Christmas time they does take on fellars to help with the work – and it had a Jamaican who used to hit the weed regularly at work. I used to pass by him and say, “Ah papa, like you high!” and he used to look at me and smile.’
‘You know where to get? I would like to try one.’
‘It have plenty of trouble in that, but the way how you ask me remind me about them English fellars. Is a funny thing, but sometimes you walking down the road and all them who you pass ask you the same thing. They like the weed more than anybody else, and from the time they see you black they figure that you know all about it, where to make contact and how much to pay. But I not in that racket. In fact I don’t know any of the boys who in it, though now and then you would see them high. If you want to have a go you better ask Five when he come down to earth.’
Big City and Five come up to them during a break and all of them went to the bar to have a drink.
‘This man Harris only fast!’ Five say. ‘Distinguish guest! How you don’t know I fix up a little thing with the skin? Who you think taking she home when the fete over?’
‘But what about all them girls you bring with you?’ Galahad ask.
Five wave his hand in the air. ‘One today, one tomorrow,’ he say. ‘Listen, any o
f them you like you could have. Daniel!’ he call out to the other end of the bar, ‘you treating the girls right?’ Daniel stick his thumb up in the air like them RAF fellars and smile. ‘That man is a real friend,’ Five say. ‘How you make out with the other one, City?’
‘As you say,’ Big City answer, ‘Harris only fast. But she don’t want to leave the other girl, so we will have to go together.’
‘That is all right, boy,’ Five say, ‘anything goes. Jesus Christ, it making hot in here, though. What happen Moses, I ain’t see you dancing?’
‘I had one or two,’ Moses say, ‘But you know the old man, always taking things easy.’
‘How your head, Five?’ Galahad ask.
‘It all right, man, it only break a cocacola bottle. You know, I would have beaten that – if youall didn’t hold me back. But we make back friends after.’
Harris come to the bar as if nothing happen and order a lemonade.
‘What time this fete overing, Harris?’ Five ask him.
‘At the usual time, half-past eleven,’ Harris say.
‘Oh Christ,’ Five say, ‘I don’t know why in a big city like London you can’t have a fete till morning. Look how it is back home, they have non-stop dance, you dance till you fall down on the ground, the moon go, the sun come, evening come, night come again and still the boys on the floor. Why the arse London Transport can’t run bus and tube all night for people to go home?’
‘I wish you would watch your language,’ Harris say. ‘You don’t know it, but there are decent people around you.’
‘Yes,’ Big City say, ‘stop—ing up a good time, Five.’
‘Take it easy boys,’ Moses say.
‘Another thing,’ Harris say, drinking the lemonade and forgetting to speak proper English for a minute, ‘is when the fete finish and the band playing ‘God Save The Queen’, some of you have a habit of walking about as if the fete still going on, and you, Five, the last time you come to one of my dances you was even jocking waist when everybody else was standing at attention. Now it have decent people here tonight, and if you don’t get on respectable it will be a bad reflection not only on me but on all the boys, and you know how things hard already in Brit’n. The English people will say we are still uncivilised and don’t know how to behave properly. So please boys, do me a favour, and when the band play ‘God Save The Queen’, stand up to attention.’
‘All right Mr Harris,’ Five say, ‘anything you want. If you want me to leave right now I will leave.’ Then he change his tone. ‘Come and have a drink with the boys, man. You haven’t had one for the night.’
‘You know I don’t drink,’ Harris say.
‘Ah, that is now, but you remember them days in Port of Spain when –’
But Harris went away before Five could finish stirring up the memories, to tell the other boys to remember to stand still when the band playing ‘God Save The Queen’.
It had one bitter season, when it look like the vengeance of Moko fall on all the boys in London, nobody can’t get any work, fellars who had work losing it, and all over the place it look like if Operation Pressure gone into execution in a big way.
Galahad for one lose his work, and though it was winter – a real grim one with pipe bursting and people carrying bucket to the road standpipe like in the West Indies to draw water – the old Galahad not very much affected by the weather. Some miracle of metabolism was still keeping him warm at a time when normal people rattling with cold, and while they bawling and shivering he was able to walk about the streets in an ordinary suit of clothing, sympathising with the huddlers and shiverers in the blast of wind that does sometimes sweep across the city like a vengeance angel. Fellars put him down for mad, seeing him dress like that in the winter, and as for the Nordics, some of them stare at this spade who defying the elements as if he is a witch doctor.
Galahad used to go walking in Kensington Gardens, the fog never clear enough for him to see down to High Street Ken. That particular winter, things was so bad with him that he had was to try and catch a pigeon in the park to eat. It does have a lot of them flying about, and the people does feed them with bits of bread. Sometimes they get so much bread that they pick and choosing, and Galahad watching them with envy. In this country, people prefer to see man starve than a cat or dog want something to eat.
Watching these fat pigeons strut about the park, the idea come to Galahad to snatch one and take it home and roast it. When he was a little fellar his father had a work in High Street in San Fernando, a town about forty miles from Port of Spain. It used to have pigeons like stupidness all about the street –nobody know where they come from, and Galahad father used to snatch and send them home to cook.
Galahad remember that as he stand up there by the pond in the gardens, watching the people throw bread for the swans, and hold pieces for the seagulls to swoop down and take it. Which part these seagulls come from? he wonder, for he always think that seagulls belong to the sea.
Once the idea come to his head, he begin to go to the park regularly to study pigeon life, to watch the movements and plan out a strategy. It have a little place, near an entrance to the park (as soon as you cross over the zebra, a little way down from Queensway) where the pigeons does hang out a lot. Only thing is that it have iron railing there, so you can’t get right up to the birds. But people like to stand there and throw bread for them, and they does come near to the railing, so if you really desperate you could push your hand in and snatch one.
Was that what Galahad plan to do, and he wasn’t so much frighten of the idea of the snatch as what would happen if one of them animal-loving people see him. That thought make him shiver, and the morning he was in action he look around carefully to make sure nobody near.
‘Coo-coo,’ Galahad say, throwing bread and leaning on the rail.
‘Coo-coo-coo,’ the pigeons say, and they start to flutter around as Galahad throw bread, for it was early in the morning and the usual bread-givers wasn’t out yet.
Galahad eye a fat fellar who edging up to the rail. He start to drop bread a little nearer, until the bird was close. He make the snatch so quietly that the other pigeons only flutter around a little and went on eating. He start to swing the pigeon around, holding it by the head, for he want to kill it quick and push it in his pocket.
As aforesaid, that particular season it was as if the gods against the boys, and just as Galahad swinging the pigeon one of them old geezers who does always wear furcoat come through the entrance with little Flossie on a lead, to give the little dear a morning constitution, and as soon as Flossie spot the spade she start a sharp barking.
‘Oh you cruel, cruel beast!’ the woman say, and Galahad head fly back from where he kneeling on the ground to handle the situation better. ‘You cruel monster! You killer!’
Galahad blood run cold: he see the gallows before him right away and he push the pigeon in his jacket pocket and stand up, and the pigeon still fluttering in the pocket.
‘I must find a policeman!’ the woman screech, throwing her hands up in the air, and she turn back to the road.
Galahad make races through the park, heading down for Lancaster Gate.
Later in the morning, he went round by Moses.
‘I buy a bird, boy,’ he tell Moses. ‘Get up and let we make a cook.’
‘You buy a bird!’ Moses say. ‘Where you get money from to buy bird, papa?’ But the idea of eating a bird and rice have him out of bed long time.
Now when Galahad did reach back home, and he sit down and start to pick the bird feather, he start to feel guilty. All he try to argue with himself that he only do it because he hungry and things brown, still the feeling that he do a bad thing wouldn’t leave him. ‘What the hell I care,’ he say to himself, ‘so much damn pigeon all about the place. Look how they making mess all about in Trafalgar Square until the government trying to get rid of them. What the hell happen if I snatch one to eat?’ But when he finish plucking the pigeon conscious humbugging him so much that he fling i
t in a corner. Little later he thought about Moses. ‘Moses in this country long,’ he say to himself, ‘and if he could eat it I don’t see why I must feel so guilty.’ So he went round by Moses.
‘I make a snatch,’ Galahad say, and he tell Moses all what happen.
‘Boy, you take a big chance,’ Moses say. ‘You think this is Trinidad? Them pigeons there to beautify the park, not to eat. The people over here will kill you if you touch a fly.’ But all the same the old Moses eyeing the bird, and is a nice, fat one. ‘Well, clean it and cut it up,’ he say, ‘I will put the rice on to boil. But you mustn’t do this kind of thing again, you will get in big trouble.’
‘The old geezer call me a cruel monster,’ Galahad say. ‘If you did see she face, you would think I commit a murder.’
‘You lucky they didn’t catch you,’ Moses say.
‘Is a long time I ain’t eat pigeon, boy,’ Galahad say.
‘Pigeon meat really sweet,’ Moses say.
In about a hour they was eating pigeon and rice. Galahad sucking the bones and smacking his lips.
‘You have a cigarette?’ he ask Moses when he finish.
‘Look some Benson there on the table – Cap was round here yesterday.’
‘How things going at the factory?’ Galahad say, lighting up and sitting back. Then he say, ‘You have the room too hot, man. Turn down the gas a little.’
‘You all right, yes,’ Moses say, ‘something wrong with you.’
‘Boy, work hard like hell to get these days. Day before yesterday I scout the Great West Road, by all them factory, and nothing doing nowhere at all. It look like they clamping down on the boys hard.’
‘I hear a Indian fellar say it have work in a cigarette factory in the East End, but I don’t know. They might take Indian and not spades. You could go and try if you like. Is just a little way from Aldgate.’
‘How much they paying?’
‘You could hit a tens with overtime.’
‘I might go and try. Is when you think Lyons will begin taking fellars down in Cadby Hall?’
‘Well last year we had a good spring and they start about March. But it all depend on the weather, people don’t want ice cream when it so cold.’