Satiricus was pleased. He was at the Internet cafe at the front street of his village. He went there when he needed to talk to his relatives in New York. Which was when he needed a “lil frek” – a circumstance that was becoming more frequent recently. But this time he was calling Cappo, his old canecutting friend who’d gotten a 10-year visa and decided to stay over in the states.
“So how you doin’, old buddy?” said Satiricus rather loudly into his mouthpiece.
“Buddaay! De whole country a mek me feel like me deh right in Guyana!” Cappo exclaimed.
“Really?” said Satiricus doubtfully. He didn’t see how the whole of America would do that for Cappo.
“Well, dem jus’ done dem election,” said Cappo excitedly. “And jus’ like in Guyana, de people who lose, start fuh riat and protes’!! Jus’ like how de Pee an See use fuh do!”
“And why you think they did that just because you are over there?” Satiricus wanted to know.
“Well me sissee tell me da nevah happen befo’!” replied Cappo. “Suh ‘e gat fuh be me!”
“OK! Cappo, quit jokin'” said Satiricus, “How things really?”
“Man now dat dis chap Tramp get elected, me sissee mek me a sleep, andah de bed!” Cappo reported sorrowfully. “She seh immigra-shan guh raid abee.”
“Immigration?” asked Satiricus in a puzzled voice.
“Bai, even doh me deh pan wan ten-year visa,” said Cappo. “dem only gi’e me one month fuh stay. Me now illegal!”
“Oh Jeez!” exclaimed Satiricus. “I’m sorry.”
“Na worry, man,” said Cappo bravely. “How t’ings in Guyana?? Me might come back.”
“I’m sorry to tell you this, Cappo,” said Satiricus slowly. “Crime got so bad Prezzie had to call out the army to help the police! And don’t remind me my leader was Rum Jhaat.”
“All abee does do schupid t’ing, Sato,” said Cappo consolingly. “But me t’ink me radah sleep undah me sissee bed, ova heah!”
