Mi fadda ‘im dead from diabetes. Is it what dem say but mi tink it ‘im gyal fren Gloria do ‘im someting wicked. Ya lawd! Why ‘im can die from diabetes when ‘im right as rain lars year heaster time. Ee stuff ‘isself sick wit dozen bun dem. White as a sheet was it! Haal a dem tink ‘im dead sho, but mi harntie she kept pourin’ white rum in ‘im … an den ‘im come to so farst ‘e bite de bawl off de spoon … Nah me seh man what can be so strong cyan do nutten fe diabetes? Nah man, dat ooman a wicked! She gwaan to de cuttin’ but she doan wan’ show de hortopsy report? Ahm tellin’ ya, she ‘fraid fe tell de trut’! But me know she cook up a woal ‘eap a white rice for ‘im an dat is what kill ‘im. Kill ‘im dead in de taxi to de ‘ospital!
Dem togedda about ten ‘ears, y’nah, an’ mi fadda jus’ leave hevryting to she. Mi fambly? … Nutten! She nevah pay not one dollah fe church ‘im. An’ she get up an’ do the ology, y’nah? Tell a bag o’ lie bout mi fadda an’ she. Dat ooman disgustin! Disgustin!!
She kill ‘im fe get free is what.
Read Mi fadda dead (part I)
For what it’s worth, both pieces are based on other texts: Part I borrows from the opening lines of L’Étranger by Albert Camus, while Part II gives a big nod to Pygmalion by George Bernard Shaw.
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[...] Read Mi fadda dead (Part II) [...]
Lawd, the farrina dem gwine confuse chru de patois. Is awright, dat is payback.