LAST WEEK I was talking ’bout the men who duh say are supposed tuh be in crisis, but I ran outta space and couldn’t get in all I wanted tuh say.
So this week I will continue tuh show you why the men ain’t in nuh kinda crisis, dat duh really need Christ in duh life in trute – dat is where the crisis really is.
Now, leh me start wid the young men who does do a lot o’ ignernts, get in trouble, find duhselves before the law courts and then when duh get up in front o’ the judge or the magistrate, all of a sudden duh doan be big and bad nuh more; duh does become all sorry and contrite, saying how sorry dem is and dat dem got some li’l children tuh support and or dat dem is the only breadwinner in the family.
Now, dem men so in crisis ’cause they didn’t know all o’ dat before when duh did doing the foolishness dat put dem in dat position.
Another set o’ men in crisis are the ones who when the day come, instead o’ getting up and finding something meaningful tuh do wid their lives so dat later on they would have something, it looks like duh does just wake up, wash duh face and mout’ and come out by the side o’ the road or the corner o’ the gap bareback.
Some o’ dem does be on pon a piece o’ bicycle dat is much too small fuh dem wid a scarf or a T-shirt hanging outta duh back pocket, just waiting tuh harass the schoolgirls as they pass. Some o’ the schoolgirls suh stupid dat they does actually entertain dem, stopping and letting dem hold on tuh duh hand or duh school bags.
All o’ dem so ain’t in crisis, and who put dem so? Look at the kinda o’ lifestyle dat dem choose tuh live; and, look, some o’ these boys went tuh the very schools dat dem now hanging out ’round and wasting duh good life, ya hear?
Sometimes when I pass and see dem I does wonder how they does feel when they see the teachers who taught dem in dat very school or even how the teachers feel when they see dem. Now tell me, what they went tuh school for? Dem waste bare time.
No matter how long I spend pon the face o’ this earth I will never be able tuh tell you why some men does come along and repeat the same foolish, destructive mistakes as their fathers, uncles and some o’ the old men in the village dat raise dem up.
What I mean tuh say is this: now, you come along and see the older men by the side o’ the road under a tree drinking and slamming a dom all day and night long or duh by the rum shop drinking, getting drunk and falling down all over the place like duh stupid and totally outta duh minds.
You might grow up and see men playing dem is saga boys or hard seeds, dressing hot in the latest and having a lot o’ women and a million and one children in every other house in the district; seeing all the problems it cause, all the hurt and the pain dat dem duhselves went through, all the confusion between families, but yet you would want tuh come along and do the same exact thing.
You would grow up and see some fellas smoking and living a hard doan-carish life, drinking and sitting down all ’bout the place. Some o’ dem wid duh hair knot-up, half duh teet missing and duh walking barefoot and begging evahbody duh see fuh a dollar tuh buy, as they say, something tuh eat or pay a bus fare and these men are in dat position because of drugs and alcohol.
Now, would you believe dat these men looking on would go and do the same things and allow you tuh know dat it cahn happen tuh dem?
Dah ain’t crisis?
I doan understand why some men think dat dem could live as duh please, do as duh please and tuh whoever duh please, whenever duh please and doan expect tuh get caught up in the whole melee.
If ya meddling wid the paint, expect tuh get a fair set of it pon ya. It is about time dat men after doing a bundle o’ junk and bringing all kinds o’ curses pon duhself try and pull duhself together and stop wallowing in self-pity, talking ’bout dem in crisis.
As I said last week, a lot o’ women got these men so.
They encourage dem tuh do a lot o’ junk and cause dem tuh end up the position duh in.
But doan fear – women in crisis too, ya know.
But leh muh tell ya, duh ain’t gine guh pon the block from morning till night, smoke a spliff, hit a blackey, buss off a few shots in nuhbody, guh up pon nuhbody rooftop and tief duh copper, get blind drunk or stone and lie down by the side o’ the road, sit down under a tree all day long and eat roast breadfruit nor drink the garden wine.
Next week I gine tell ya’all ’bout it.
Mavis Beckles was born and raised in The Orleans. She has an opinion on everything.
