Grand dad

The metal plates clattered on the swinging bridge when smacked by a riveting four wheeler;cruising down its tedious length. Casting tainted air emanating from the stretch of calm waters; mothering stray matter without a sound of protest. The air faded and it's replacement hugged my senses with gracefulness.

I stuck my head through the window and allowed barely visible particles to brush my face and explore my hair follicles.
The sunset's gleam climbed on luscious green tree-tops which stand crowded on the river embankment and white birds ascended to the skies with their beaks still filled. It was then a familiar voice began to play in my head:



"Bad road, bad road what you gonna do?"

"what you gonna do when they come for you!!"



Roared the husky voice of my riant grandfather, Emile(Eh-mill) London. Driving at caution's pace; well within 40km per hour down a bumpy road leading to our usual Friday afternoon treat. The huge umbrellas, of the urban retreat, blanketed the plastic out door setting as the aroma of chinese food filled our noses.
The yellow teeth, straight- hair, slant- eyed owners always greeted us(my sister and i) with a cup of sweet bubbly aerated drink that popped on our tongues as we sipped in a way we had created and adapted.
Grandad would sometimes spend his time with our indigenous friends and conversed in a language my sister and i usually mimicked.



I shifted in the seat of the bus to occupy the vacant space next to me and smirked at the todler knawing the silk shirt on his mother's shoulders. I was immediately taken back to the house where i spent the first four to five years of my life.

The two-storey brown and white structure of fine wood-work sat on the corner of two roads; only a block away from the Roxanne Burnham Backlands commonly known as the Cane fields. The 'red-brick' roads saddled memories of kite-flying.Also, spills of swank by my sister and i which took place during our slurping and gulping 'fiesta' after a heated chase of "catcha" or riding our tri-cycle.
We caught lizards from our trees and staggered them with a piece of wood. Stole a syringe from our uncle's desk drawer, filled it with tap water and injected the hapless victims until they bloated stiff!!
For our indoor trivia, we playfully smacked grandad's round, firm tummy and sang our favourite nursery rhymes until we were chased to bed.

The yellow rays slid on trees until they were well out of sight and nocturnal creatures sang to call their friends out and send early sleepers to bed. A time that reminded me of my more blissful moments....


Being loved and not spoilt, i took time to sample my grandfather's meals when i mounted on a chair and grinned until i got my satisfying share. Got the largest gift nestled under the christmas tree and received an allowance of 10 cents every Friday to purchase two icicles before he came blowing the horn of his white Mazda 323. He would clean my fingers and dust the fibre from the Day Care mattress, out my ribbon held hair.




His eyes always smiled to brighten up a gloomy day.


His arm of correctness and righteousness was strong and dependable. His nature and character were welcomed by many and i loved him sooo much.


The familiar scent of grazing cows dampened the cloud of my dream. The moist evening sand clung to my naked toes and i swayed, briskly, down the dim lit road; through the neighbourhood i now call home.

A disturbing force of gravity pulled my right leg into a pot hole and i began to sing the chorus from a Saturdy night Tv serial...



"Bad road, Bad road what you gonna do.......?"