Watch Yuh Bread

                                           watch yuh bread —

                                                a short story by stan bishop

portia could sway hips. ask anyone in the community what portia did best and they would tell you that even the wind couldn’t sway trees as rhythmic as portia swayed her hips.

to be honest, portia swayed her hips too damn well for her own damn good. especially when she wore those short cutoff shorts with revealing halter tops that left nothing to the men’s dirty imaginations. many of the women felt strongly that portia dressed intentionally sexy just so she could sway their men’s attention away from them. portia’s defence was the same when faced with such accusations: “it eh have noffing on me that diff’rent from what y’all have. jus’ sayin’.”

still no woman took for granted that what portia had was quite a revelation. she was about five feet seven inches of prime shabine real estate. the justifiably insecure babonneau women knew it and even the best writers couldn’t adequately describe what portia had. simply put, portia had all the right goods in all the right places.  

the women knew portia had what they lacked, which included the audacity to flaunt in the men’s faces the sinful things men have no problems having weaknesses for. and they hated her. the women, that is. especially sonia who just couldn’t wait for the day to come when she could just snatch portia’s s&s braids from her head and beat the living daylights out of her with them.

portia also had the quenchable fountain of youth on her side and was also strikingly beautiful. her twentysomething years of magnetic pulse and smooth thickness pitted her in a class by herself compared to mathaline and sonia, both of whom were approaching their fifties and losing their magic touch.    

“awa, eh, dat skettel portia really fink she too so,” sonia blurted out to mathaline near the babonneau bus stand in downtown castries a few fridays ago.

“girl, i hear you, oui,” replied mathaline, clearly in agreement. “i watchin’ that tramp closer than butter on bread. she eh go box bread out of me and my children moufs. over my dead body.”

truth be told, sonia and mathaline were not always the best of friends. in fact, mathaline didn’t take it too kindly some years ago when she found out that her best friend sonia was sleeping around with her common law husband gustave. to this day, sonia continues to deny the salacious charges leveled against her. even after gustave was rumoured to have bragged to fellow bus drivers in a bar at paix bouche after a few piton beers that he did went in unto sonia a couple of times. even after sonia’s second son, sean, bears a spitting resemblance of gustave, too.

but mathaline was unlike most looshan women: she was the forgive-and-forget, that’s-water-under-the-bridge type. she was ready to give sonia the benefit of the doubt. whatever did or did not transpire between gustave and sonia seven years ago seemed not as threatening to her and gustave’s smooth relationship as portia’s presence in babonneau. presently, any ally in the fight to secure her man against the evil temptations of that jamette portia was worth it.

“ever since dat girl come from soufriere, people in babonneau just losing their man just so,” sonia said, choopsing loud and long enough for the customers in dilly’s supermarket about fifty yards away to hear. “well if is heat she t’ink she have, she go get wha’ she lookin’ for.”

without drawing on any flashback to her sad case seven years earlier, mathaline was quick to agree with sonia.

“dem is de kinda women dat does give we women a bad name,” mathaline responded somewhat professorially. “I eh know why some women cyah keep dem damn legs closed. I waitin’ for that bitch to tell gustave as much as a ‘good mornin’. what she get she go take. trust me.”

the edgy conversation between sonia and mathaline continued when they boarded the bus to babonneau. by the time the bus got to choc gap near the cinema, every passenger and the driver had gotten more than an earful relating to the fiery shabine from soufriere who had moved to babonneau to become a homewrecker. and while most of the women appeared to pay no mind to the juicy banter between the two, there was absolutely no doubt about the fact that what they were saying was being taken in by the other women on the bus. women are women and can sense a threat from other women.

portia may have been a sign of trouble but she was certainly no fool. she may have been an outsider to many in babonneau but she did have sources. which explains why everything that was said on that minibus finally got to portia’s ears.

about a week after sonia and mathaline broadcast all of portia’s dirty business on that babonneau minibus, it was portia’s turn to talk. upon hearing the news that sonia and mathaline were malpalaying her on the minibus, portia decided that the time was ripe for her to wash her tongue on the two women. she had long suspected that they didn’t take it too kindly to her taking up residence in babonneau. saint lucia is too small for secrets and she was just waiting for the right moment to give sonia and mathaline a piece of their business.

it was about ten in the morning that saturday when portia decided on revenge. she got up from her lonely bed in the one room shack just behind the roman catholic church she called home. she took a quick shower, suited up in a tight piece of jeans shorts and white tube top and slapped on her pair of pink old navy slippers. then she slammed her door shut and set out to open up a few chapters on sonia and mathaline.

mathaline and sonia lived not too far from the secondary school at babonneau. their homes were adjacent to each other and close to the road. it took portia less than five minutes to get there to call them out.

“yes, i hear my name spreadin’ all over de place,” portia introduced her presence in a loud voice near the speed bump. “all who t’ink i screwin’ their man, come and take me on now!”

with these words, portia struck a sexy yet threatening pose with her short thick legs apart and her arms folded across her voluptuous chest. her loud voice drew the attention of the other people living in the houses close to sonia and mathaline. who didn’t bother to come out of their houses and stand on their doorsteps settled for a peep through their windows. soaps was about to go down and no one wanted to miss the bubbles.

for the twenty or so minutes portia stood there and washed her tongue on sonia and mathaline, every minute of it was entertaining. she made it known to whoever had ears to hear that who she decided to open her legs for was her business. who vex lose. further, those gossipers spreading her name around the place needed to focus on how to keep their men happy at home and not worry about her.

in a nutshell, portia never denied or confessed to any man visiting her humble abode behind the r.c. church for comfort. that part of the story, she said as she was walking away, would come sooner or later.

although portia had called out sonia and mathaline by name, neither woman was brave enough to show their face or take portia on. they listened to every word portia had to say but remained stuck within the confines of their homes where christianity could protect them. even after hearing the neighbours jeer and laugh about their business as being told by portia, sonia and mathaline had to exercise patience.    
    

apparently, sooner or later happened to be the next day. that sunday morning, the r.c. church was almost packed with hundreds of faithful servants who had probably broken a couple of the ten commandments the previous week. adults and noisy children were being led in prayer by father joseph who was in the middle of the lord’s prayer.

“…give us this day our daily bread ----.”

at that very moment, a loud noise interrupted the sea of bowed heads that turned around and glanced toward the back door of the church.

“hypocrites. all of y’all are bloody hypocrites!” portia had arrived.

portia’s presence at sunday mass was an anomaly. never before had she attended the church despite the fact that she lived right next to it! but this sunday seemed too important to let up. there was, however, some sense of apprehension among the humble flock as to her manner of entry, though.   

unlike her usual tantalizing attire she wore that virtually revealed her titillating voluptuousness, portia was now decked out in a formal black and white two-piece dress. it was one of those dresses that made the coquettish mannequins in the hobie show windows look lady-like. her hair was freshly-done and the s&s braids gave way to the new natural tie-in-one-bun style she was now rocking. her pair of white pumps were a far departure from the regular open-toe sandals and old navy slippers that exposed her lollipop toes.

about a minute or so after interrupting the people’s service, portia sat her prized derriere in the front pew where no one else was sitting and put her bible in her lap.

“carry on, father jo. carry on,” she told the priest, who was by now sweating under his collar like an accused awaiting sentencing.

“and forgive us our trespasses ----"

“preach it, father jo,” portia shouted out. “is not me that does tell their man to trespass by my home.” 

and she let out one of those irritating and inciting laughs that would force anyone to want to fight even though they were in the lord’s house at the time.

nervously, father jo continued: “as we forgive those that trespass against us----"

“amen to that,” portia shouted out. “amen to that. they too hypocrite. coming to church playing all holy and their sins blacker than charcoal. woooy. well look it.” 

at that point, father joseph had no choice but to remind sister portia that she was interrupting the morning service.

“sorry, father jo. but some people just too hypocrite,” portia said contritely and leaned back on her pew.

“and lead us not into temptation----"

that was it. portia could not resist the urge to let it all out. she sprang to her feet, put her bible down on the pew and went over to the pew where best friends sonia and mathaline sat with their children.

“lemme tell y’all somefing. eh mess wif me, eh. eh mess wif me. y’all t’ink y’all know my business, eh. well is me that know y’all dirty business,” portia said, standing in front of the two women, wagging her right index finger in their nervous faces.

she was not done yet: “as for you, sonia. when it come to skettels, you take de cake. gustave tell me about all de chil’ren you fro’ for him. and you, mathaline, i know all about your jamette days when you used to sleep with them tourists in rodney bay. gustave tell me everyfing.”

both sonia and mathaline remained quiet, seemingly puzzled by the information that was just made public and will definitely be spread as soon as mass ended. the priest left the altar and walked about six paces towards portia, apparently in an effort to reason with her. turns out that was a wrong move made on his part.

“and father jo,” she shouted out as she turned around and looked him squarely in the eyes. “do you care to let the congregation know what my bed looks like and where the church money going to and who that paying my bills?”

portia went on to name names: she had slept with bus drivers, civil servants, drug dealers, a member of parliament, shopkeepers and members of the clergy, to name a few.  even a few women’s names were mentioned in the mix. and she would do it all again, she proudly told the mesmerized gathering.

in short order, mass ended prematurely that sunday morning. about two weeks later, father jo was reassigned to a church in barataria, trinidad. the local archbishop finally had proof that one of his men of the cloth was scandalous and had naked desires. a few other relationships were affected, too. mathaline and sonia’s friendship ended that day in church. some bus drivers resorted to sleeping in their buses at nights or crawling back into portia’s ever-welcoming bed.

all in all, portia turned out to be the outsider the babonneau women learned to never mess with and the babonneau men would risk everything to mess around with. she had just what it takes to sway men’s attention away from their women and toward her. and she swayed it quite well, too. and she probably still does.