When You Wake Up In The Morning….
OTHER PEOPLE’S BUSINESS
By Mutryce A. Williams
As Ms. Lou hobbled up the road, she slowed down her pace, turned her back to them, swished her skirt in the air, opened her mouth and began singing, ‘when you wake up in the morning don’t mind your neighbour business take you wash rag and you basin and go wash you daylight…I tell you go wash, wash, I tell you go wash you daylight…’ and while she sang she danced…
They sat there on that step on a muggy Saturday morning, skirts lapped between their legs, heads wadded up in cloth and beads of sweat dripping from their faces. The baskets of unwashed clothes were scattered about the alley, as were the boxes of provisions and groceries and buckets filled with water. One lady had a plastic bag filled with soup meat which she had just purchased from the butcher down the road. Ann nudged her and said, ‘Woman, carry home the meat and come back. You aint fraid it spoil,’ who tell Ann say that? The woman knotted the bag and positioned it right between her legs. She shot back at Ann, ‘Is quite alright you hear. This story aint going wait on me and I want to hear this with me own two ears them. Don’t worry bout me meat if anything I will just corn it.”
They all leaned attentively in the direction of the woman who dubbed herself the village ‘griot,’ as she relayed the story play for play. She was the holder of key information. She sat there as if she was holding court. She looked up and beckoned to Jane as she strolled along with her five children and said, ‘Hey Jane! You passing us straight eh… Is what? Come girl! Send the children home… you can not miss this story yah. This is a sweet, sweet piece of news… if you want to get it straight come… cause I not going tell it again. I don’t want people think I in the business of hauling people name… cause I am not like that… I don’t like people call up me mine, plus what I don’t like… I don’t give.”
“A can’t stop. I in a rush here, I have on me pot home, a just went for the children from Ma… I aint even bathe yet… I can’t come sit down between all you…me aint able for all you to tell me how a smell.’ In no time, Jane joined the women on the step, shooed her brood, and shouted, ‘Lock off the pot all you hear. I going finish it when I come home, and if all you father ask for me, tell him I down here helping Enid with something.” Jane plopped down herself right next to Enid and you wouldn’t believe it if I told you, Jane and Enid ‘aint’ talk for donkey years you know, but here they were fraternizing on the griot’s steps for the ‘cause.’
There were a lot of, ‘ah ha… is so it go… well I never… and she playing so… hmm… a was telling all you all de time but all you wouldn’t listen… well, well, well… tell me more… let she take that… so what else you see… what else you hear…’ When I thought the situation couldn’t get any worse John who was busy chopping grass in his yard nearby, dropped his machete and said, ‘I can’t let she mash up the people story so, cause aint so it go, let me tell all you because this is what really happen in truth.’ John secured a seat in between the women. The attention drifted from the village griot, I think her name was Mildred. They all leaned towards John, as if he was one of the great Greek philosophers who was about to impart some life altering or edifying wisdom upon them. Questions were fielded from left, right and centre.
Clarifications were sought because everyone wanted to ensure that she got the story straight, because as we all know, there was no way in hell, that that story was going stay right there, ‘So tell me again, how much blows you say she get? What he bang her with? She could walk? Why he bang she? He pull de pot off the stove for true? Maybe he do it cause she can’t cook? I hear she can’t cook in truth. He pitch out she clothes them for true? What time de police come? Who call them? Where he be now? They gone with him? So you see her for true, true or is just what you suspect. So she mash up bad…Enid what you say she in the hospital…but Ann how you say you see she this morning… You sure, don’t go on so I just trying to get the story straight man… wait there John but Mildred you aint say…Mildred where you get you story from…John so you was there…is you hold him back…but how you all story different so…who else was there…cause I want to get every single thing straight… where the children gone…Enid you just talk to her ent…she is you friend… well when you see her ask her how the story went no…no make it look like you looking news…you know how to do it…Ann he sister just work with you, what you say she say but you know she going give his side of the story…I beg all you get the story right you hear…cause I want to know…I have gots to know…Mildred you niece aint have a child for the police… they does get on still ask she and see what he tell she…’ There was bickering back and forth as they held court and engaged in heavy debate. John looked up and said, ‘Hush see she grandmother coming.’ Mildred sucked her teeth, ‘Boy, John a beg hard you hear, you aint see the woman feeble, she aint all to there. She done gone from she self.’ They continued talking.
As Ms. Lou hobbled up the road, she slowed down her pace, turned her back to them, swished her skirt in the air, opened her mouth and began singing, ‘when you wake up in the morning don’t mind your neigbour business take you wash rag and you basin and go wash you daylight…I tell you go wash, wash, I tell you go wash you daylight…’ and while she sang she danced…
Do you ever wonder why we relish in the demise of others? Do you ever wonder why we put our differences aside and somehow gravitate towards each other in order ‘to celebrate the demise of others? It amazes me how everything and everyone becomes secondary when ‘we getting a piece of sweet news about someone.’ I often ask, ‘how is this information going to edify us? ‘Is there a moral to this story?’ Do you ever wonder why there is no such thing as too much bad news but when we hear something good about someone we suck our teeth and it is always, ‘me arm peets, that again, they can’t done…’ Why are we always ready and willing to air other people’s dirty laundry? This phenomenon in human nature as like many other things baffles me. When one refuses to participate in this type of behaviour, he or she is not applauded but rather ostracized and often asked, ‘well what you a play, everybody like news.’ I do not get is our organized rumour mills, where we sit down and the basis of our court is to just discuss other people’s business, especially when that person’s business has no bearing on our lives whatsoever. What is to be had out of this behaviour? Why don’t we investigate or interrogate people’s success? Why aren’t we quick to spread their good news? As I grow older nothing irritates my ears more than, ‘you aint hear bout her, girl?’ The thing is there always seem to be a sly grin, as if one is about to sit down and enjoy a great feast. I ask again what sustenance is to be derived from this.
When I think on these things it takes me back to my childhood days, when I would saunter around the house at mornings waiting for my song came on. This song had a strong message and in my opinion the radio host played it at the most appropriate time, when one was about to start his or her day. It was always a gentle reminder that, ‘when you wake up in the morning, don’t mind your neighbor business, take your wash rag and you basin and go wash you daylight…a tell you go wash, wash, a tell you go wash you daylight.’
I would set the volume so it would be blaring when I stood in the shower, singing at the top of my lungs, I took my wash rag and washed, washed.
