Confessions of a Dying Woman:3: Country Edition

 

Dear Miss Mavis,

I know that mouth-a-massy Bev, must tell the entire neighborhood by now that me soon dead, so I know that you hear the sad news as well. Anyway, I am not writing to beg you anything, I just want to make that very clear. Not that you would have anything for me to beg because the last time I came by your house, your kitchen was empty like when nine-night food done and them turn off the music. What I am writing about is my confession regarding a small transgression so, I can lighten my soul to go to heaven.

 Miss Mavis, I am sorry that the whole neighborhood call you ‘Sista Walk and Drop’. I never intend for the nickname to stick. In fact, I never tell anyone to call you that. I know you can recall that Sunday, when you came to church late and you were walking fast to get the last front seat before Miss Ruby. Well, you will also recall that you were wearing that long flowers-flowers frock and in your haste to beat Miss Ruby to the seat, you get one bitch drop. You get up back and continued to race to get the seat and like a big ripe breadfruit, ‘Buff!  Right a grung again, you drop.

 Well anyway, a few minutes after your dropping accident, I had to go up on the pulpit to give my testimony. I was thanking God for his goodness and his mercy, and that you never break your hip when you drop. The incident was so fresh in my mind when my mouth mek the mistake and call you ‘Sista Walk and Drop’. Forgive me Miss Mavis, it was an accident and the people them in the neighborhood have no right to call you that.

Anyway, now that my confession is out of the way, Sista Walk and drop, I am begging you to not wear that damn pretty-pretty, flowers-flowers frock to my funeral. The one that you turn into your uniform and, wear every other Sunday when pastor James is preaching. Bwoy! you brave enuh Miss Mavis, to walk pass Mass Johnny yard with all them bees. You no fraid bees tek you in your flowers-flowers frock and run you dung and mek you drop? Lamb of Calvary! You brave bad.

Another thing Miss Mavis, please don’t wear the pink, black and purple hat to my funeral. I wouldn’t like to know that, while you were on your way to my funeral service, that birds mistake your hat, with all the whole heap a feathers them and mesh for a bird nest. So to be on the safe side please to wear the blue and red frock and just wrap your head. Don’t wrap it like you are a madda woman or like you going to your bed, nor like that time that you wrap it like you dead.

Also, Miss Mavis, do not wear your spike heel to the graveside. Wear a slippers or a flat shoes.  I wouldn’t want to have any disgrace at my funeral like what happened at Mass Isac funeral. You remember how Bev, did gone to Mass Isac graveside and position herself close to the casket and then open up her empty mouth, and start bawl? You should a see her neck string. You must can remember how Bev, nearly drop in the hole with the casket because her spike heel boot get stuck in the dirt and all the lift she a try lift only her foot come out of the ugly spike heel and leave it stuck way down in the grung. 

I think her bawling did bad, but her foot bottom was worse, because when you look, Bev, foot bottom dem black, dem black , dem black so till. It was like Bev, was walking barefooted down in hell.  Dem did black like pot bottom. I wouldn’t want that to happen to you at all, so you heed my warning and take my foolish advice. Don’t wear no spike heel to the grave side!

One last thing before I go Miss Mavis. Sis Dorothy tell me say, you and Miss Spinny husband Mass Jasper, a fishy fishy around. I hope you don’t give him any of your fishy and that you put him in his place. Mighty God of Daniel, Meshach, Shadrach and him billy goat them, I never see a likkle bend up foot, big belly man so dry yeye (eye) and bare face. 

Anyway, me pen ink almost finish. May the Lord continue to guide and bless you Miss Mavis. Until me dead.

Your  good neighbor

Sis Madge

 

Note to readers: Colloquial language  is present in this post and was written to be read in patois.