Woman is crazy, always digging out de cobwebs, cleaning, cleaning. She get up soon o’ clock and don’t stop dis sweeping and wiping down ‘til de noon-day sun get too hot.
Now Man, he is a clever creature.
He do a massive clean-up of the Lepentir cemetary one time. Lepentir is Guyanese for the French word, Le Repentir, which is French for the English word, Repentance.
My beautiful Irish auntie say, “The trouble is, those cleaners don’t realise that weed grows again, and you have to keep cleaning.”
You see? We women believe in cleaning like we conscience is working overtime.
Man, on the other hand, does enjoy the power and the glory of he one good deed forever and ever.
Soon after the Big Waves from de sea nearly kill all of we with fright, the Carer of The Canals, a Man of course, run around dredging up them canals east and west.
The heavy rain come. Ohhh, the water gurgle and flow-oh, gurgle like a song, pour and run merry-merry.
And The Carer of The Canals rest on he laurels.
The laurels grow like the antelope grass in the canals. The canals, not cleared since that last time, get clogged up again.
This morning, long before the sun even turn over in he bed, the rain, she start one heavy hollering. The next thing I know, she is flooding-up roadway and driveway. I swear I see laurels leaves floating by out there.
And me, I have this urge to go and sweep them up.