Each week we post an article or paper submitted by a member or "silent participant" of Guyana Caribbean Network. The featured article runs from Monday to Sunday each week. To submit an article for feature of the week contact us at admin@guyanacaribbeannetwork.com This week's feature is brought to you by "Araff".

My favorite aunt
by "Araff"

"Raymannnnnnnnnnn!" That call held all the elements of my childhood as I swung my feet over the bridge staring at the muddy water as it meandered slowly along it's way, oblivious to the trouble I was about to face. My shadow stretched weirdly across the trench, a result of the setting sun. Evening was here, the promise of a night where the blood sucking mosquitoes lay waiting to strike. I could feel my heart thumping.

"Raymaaaaaaaaaaannnnnn!" My head jerked up, I decided to turn around and wave to that figure on the landing, she looked so small from so far away, yet I knew she was there, I could make out her hands on her hips, if her face was fair, I'm sure it would be red as a cherry. "Rass," I muttered to myself, what have I gotten myself into. I lifted myself lazily off the bridge. Maybe I could fall in and pretend I'm drowning, that way I can escape the trouble I was about to face. Problem was I could not swim. "Ummmmmmmmmmmm," I might as well head back.

This all started because of the stupid twenty five cents. My aunt wanted me to go buy bread, so I started my way to that crazy, shaky bridge. Evenings were really beautiful, as I walked freely and carelessly towards the seaside. This I did not fully appreciate until 18 years later when I faced short days, bitter cold, tall faceless brick buildings in New York City. That's another story for another day.

Anyway, I was tossing the twenty five cents in the air, pretending that I was in the middle of the pitch at Bourda, spinning the toss against Greg Chappell. Heads or tail, should I bat or should I bowl? As I approached the bridge, not a care in the world, barefoot not feeling a thing on the dried up clay with deep holes made by cows when the place was wet, my mind deep in my cricket game, threading across the rikity bridge, the stupid twenty five cents still trying to decide who will bat first; the coin decided to flip itself into the trench! So, here I was, swinging my feet, about to head back now to that voice.

As I approached the landing, I could feel my aunt's eyes boring into my body. I wondered where was my grandmother, my savior, my only hope of surviving this whipping I was about to receive. I spied her, and started running to safety behind her skirt. At the same time, my aunt was coming down the stairs, a piece of stick in her hand. I reached my ma before my aunt reached me and held onto her for dear life.

"Yuh the one dat keep spoilin him, yuh know how lang meh call am, but he siddown pon ah bridge nah move". My aunt, to say the least, was a wee bit furious.

"Leff ah bai nuh", my love for my grandmother, my ma, was at it's peak at this moment. My aunt resigned herself to "ketch" me another day. I explained that the twenty five cents slipped out my hand. My aunt promised that one day, she hand gon slip too with licks.

I must say, that this memory for me is priceless, this is my favorite aunt, my ma went to God years ago, I still miss her after all these years.

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