TOLERANCE HAS A NEW Barbadian meaning these days. Because I can sleep like a baby while a noisy kite flies over my head all night, ipso facto, you, too, should have the same capability.
It’s my “enjoyment” that matters and to hell with you and anyone else so affected. You, the tormented, must be tolerant; not I, the tormenter.
No one liked kites more than I did back in the 1940s and 1950s. I flew kites so much that my complexion became darker from the constant burning of the sun during the Easter holidays.
My favourite was the fish kite. A sheet of white bread paper and two bones from a coconut branch, with one vertical bone about twice as long as the other horizontal bone. Before pasting, the frame resembled a cross. There was no “bull” – a narrow piece of paper under the “round-head”.
Some days I would “let out” my kite so far, I couldn’t see it. I knew it was there through the tension on the string.
Never so loud
I knew a few boys who let their kites remain out at night but they were never so loud. No one then thought of making a “bull” out of plastic. There wasn’t much plastic around anyway!
Don’t let anyone fool you that there was any mass kite-flying at night. Most kites were “hauled in” at dusk until the next morning.
These nights kites are left flying with no other purpose but to annoy people. And there are just as many insensitive people in support of this stupidity. Like the three heard the other day on talk radio.
Welchman Hall, St Thomas: On more than one occasion recently this frequent caller tried to convince listeners that the object of flying a kite at night was “to feel the tension” on the twine when its owner got up next morning. No regard for the tension felt by the ailing Barbadian half-mile away who had to put up with the noise last night. Or the student unable to put in the requisite amount of quiet time for study.
Dunlow Lane, St Michael: This frequent caller scoffed at the cry of the woman in Pine Gardens who also complained about kites flying all night over her district. Ever alert to play the race-and-class card, he quickly juxtaposed Pine Gardens with Pinelands. Her problem could easily be solved if she went “up in Pinelands and asked de li’l boy not to fly de kite at night”. Never mind that the Pine Gardens woman ran the risk of facing up to a barrage of abuse from the owner of the kite, or worse.
Chancery Lane, Christ Church: He lives near the airport, so noise is second nature to him: planes take off and land constantly. This frequent caller has the knack of switching from the sublime to the ridiculous in a split second. Would they want to ban dogs next?
Howling Akitas
He cited the case of the man who suggested laryngital surgery on his dog. I wonder how he would handle a kennel of howling Akitas next door . . . at 3 a.m. And what about the good old Bajan fowl cock? he asked. Should we shut him up, too, if he starts crowing at midnight?
A few weeks ago, up popped the Minister of the Environment promising, one more time, some elusive comprehensive legislation to deal with this issue and other environmental irritants like toxic vehicle emissions and indiscriminate burning of stuff all over the place. He’s been talking and talking about that piece of legislation for the past four years or more. Why doesn’t the minister dust off the draft bill that was all set to be discussed in the House of Assembly in 2007?
Oh, by the way, Stetson Babb my friend, unless you’re sure that you can outrun a couple of pit bulls, please don’t trace any kite to its source and cut the twine.
