Satiricus was very upset. His wife’s cousin, Manga, had emigrated to Venezuela back in the long, hard guava season of the Burnham years. After years of hard work, the fella thought he could just relax and “throw back”, but it was not to be. Here it was, Chávez and Maduro seemed determined to follow in Burnham’s track, and brought Venezuela to its knees. And sent the fella and family scurrying back to Guyana.
“But you know what was the final straw for Manga?” Satiricus asked his buddies as they settled into their usual routine at the Back Street Bar.
“Wha’?” asked Bungi, grinning. “Dem cyaan stan’ fuh eat beans an’ rice eve’y day?”
“That’s the problem!” exclaimed Satiricus. “They can’t get even beans and rice so Maduro gave them rabbit bunnies to rear and eat!”
“But what’s wrong with rabbit?” asked Hari as he picked out a piece of “crekete” cutters and plunked it into his mouth. “Bungi like rabbit!”
“Yeah, wha’ wrang wid rabbit?” demanded Bungi. “Yuh evah eat roti wid stew rabbit? Ummmmm!” Bungi smacked his lips.
“That’s disgusting!” said Satiricus. “Manga’s kids treated the rabbits like pets. How could you eat your pet?”
“I don’t know about that,” said Hari as he popped another piece of crekete into his mouth. “Didn’t your kids treat that goat we ate last Christmas like a pet?”
“That’s different,” said Satiricus firmly. “The goat wasn’t a real pet like a rabbit.”
“W’at about da turtle soup yuh bin cook?” asked Bungi. “De turtle na bin yuh neigba pet?”
“OK, fellas, I get the point,” admitted Satiricus. “But you can’t force people to eat things they don’t want to.”
“Budday! W’en yuh hungry, yuh can eat rope and soap!” exclaimed Bungi.
“So if you’re hungry, you could eat rat meat?” demanded Satiricus.
“W’en dem bu’n de cane fiel’,” answered Bungi with a grin. “W’a yuh t’ink abee a do wid dem roas’ rat??”
