Satiricus hurried over to the Back Street Bar. The results of the Common Entrance examination had just come out, and he knew that would provide a good gyaaf over the fellas’ weekend drinks. When they’d written the exam, the name for the “school leaving” exam was called “Common Entrance”, and that was the only name by which they referred to it subsequently. “NGSA” was something they just couldn’t wrap their tongues around.
“Eh! Eh!” exclaimed Bungi when they’d settled down at the back with their beers and cutters. “Me hear dem pickney do prappa good in Maths dis year!”
“Remember how you were good at Maths when we were in primary school, Bungi?” asked Hari.
“Maths??” asked Satiricus. “The man was so good in everything he topped the school at Common Entrance! But his mother sent him to the backdam.”
“Ah nah she fa’lt,” said Bungi quietly. “Wid de ole man dead, ah me decide fuh guh in de backdam. An’ de Maths help me fuh count how much manure me throw!” He grinned.
“But how come most of these children still can’t pass Common Entrance?” Hari asked plaintively as he ordered another round.
“Budday! A wha mek you do good in skool?” asked Bungi as he looked at his two friends.
“To get a good job,” answered Satiricus.
“Same here,” agreed Hari.
“Ah na da de ans’a?” Bungi asked. “Wha mek dem pickney guh buss dem head if dem na know dem guh get jaab?”
“I’m not so sure about that,” said Satiricus doubtfully.
“A’rite,” said Bungi. “Tell me: whe’ mos’ a de jab deh?”
“Georgetown,” said Hari.
“An’ whe’ mos’ a dem tap student come fram?” continued Bungi.
“Georgetown,” admitted Satiricus. “Most country schools did badly.”
“And wha’ kine a jab abee gat in country?” Bungi went on.
“Cane cutting and rice farming,” conceded Hari.
“Me case close,” grinned Bungi. “A’yuh gat fuh buy beer fram now!”
