As the van came up to the square, Kwae saw a vagrant taking an early-morning bath in the mermaid fountain at the center. The vagrant reminded him that the country’s deprived and poor were growing in number. Maybe that’s why some have to depend on so-called criminal avenues — to avoid these depths of depravity. Water splashed onto the ground startling some pigeons. As they glided off together to find the perfect spot, they suddenly turned into scarlet ibis as Kwae’s thoughts turned to Caroni Swamp.
Kwae liked the swamp. Both he and Vish enjoyed watching the sun dip behind the mangrove trees and sink into the Gulf of Paria. Even though the mangrove concealed snakes and the dark waters contained caimans, Vish liked to motor quietly with him to see the scarlet ibis around this time of evening. As for Kwae, he had one thought in mind — to make sure he wrapped up his deals on time, and swiftly. The swamp was one of the best places to make his pick-ups. Even though it had waterways reserved for tourists to explore the mangrove, many were not open to the public. However, those with local knowledge could venture along these wide waterways and meet other boats for quick exchanges of all kinds — not only narcotics but even human cargo. Maybe that’s why there were so many South Americans in the country. The funny part was that they all claimed to be here because they wanted to learn English. Sure, there were some who came to learn the language legitimately, but others were here to feed the appetites of the big-belly men of the country. No wonder the government had a hard time putting them out.
Kwae liked to think of the swamp as a miniature Amazon River. It could lead to the sea or carry you to different landing spots in the center of the island. Of course, one had to know these routes well or the place would seem to have only dead ends. Fortunately, the police had no knowledge of the secret passageways that had been created since the time of the Amerindians. One of these waterways led to the back of a car parts dealer. Kwae used to tell Vish that he was going to pick up some parts for his brother. He hated to lie to his love, but he needed the money. If Vish began to look skeptical when he would go to make his deals and collect his goods, Kwae would fire up the engine and speed through the waterways. Vish’s beautiful Egyptian eyes would immediately light up and his wavy curls would blow and Kwae would rejoice in the fact that he had found a dougla of his own.
The only problem was Vish’s bitch Indian mother. Like the typical mother, she didn’t want Vish getting mixed up with him cause of his odd-job attitude and adventurous ways. If she only knew we’re more than just friends, that ours is a love as hot as mother-in-law pepper sauce! We’re destined to be together. So what if we can’t make little pickney. There are enough crackheads in the world today...
Kwae jolted back to reality when the van slammed into a pothole just before stopping in front of the Hall of Justice. “Oh shit, man! Drive!” Kwae shouted. “Like yuh toutoulebay after seeing all that bottom in the road!” He felt a slap on his head for the rude remark and was hurried out of the van. Cuboid walls loomed as the guards walked Kwae up the long red-stoned flight — the Hall of Justice, where many tears had flowed and criminals had been sentenced or set free. Midway he caught sight of a familiar form at the top. “Vish,” he whispered softly.
The Afro guard heard him and started laughing. “Ah, man. I see yuh lover boy here.”
“Wait a minute,” the Indo guard said. “This one is a buller man? No wonder the boys didn’t want to touch yuh.” The guards laughed and talked about Kwae all the way to the courtroom.
He didn’t mind. Vish looks so beautiful with clean shoes and all, but his hair is cut short to the point that he looks almost Indian. Too bad, Kwae thought. He liked to stroke the dougla waves. I wonder if his mother made him cut it. Although Vish did not appear to see him, Kwae would definitely catch his eye inside the courtroom.
All that matters is that Vish is here to defend me. He will tell the jury that we were together the day of the murder, at least most of the day — after all, didn’t the boys in blue catch me at home? So I could never have done the dirty deed of chopping off Redman’s phallus and then burying him at the shores of the swamp. That would have taken a lot of time. The bastard who did it deserves to suffer in Hell’s fire for eternity and to be haunted by La Diablesse and the douennes.
The case mulled on during the day as ethnic fatigue settled into the judge, jury, and lawyers. Finally, Mr. Vishlal Thomas was called to make his oath. This is the moment of truth, Kwae thought excitedly. Vish made his oath staring straight ahead with a stone face.
The defending lawyer began to pound out his questions. The questions seemed endless. Kwae felt sorry for having to put Vish through this. Why doesn’t Vish look at me for support? he wondered. Then he realized that Vish’s mother was there, her face looking like frozen baigan choka. Gasps of shock from the jury interrupted his reverie. Vish was repeating the word, “GUILTY!” Everyone was silent. What kind of sick joke? Is this for real? Kwae felt his palms moisten. Vish didn’t look his way.
“Doh chain my head up!” Kwae yelled. He rose screaming and rushed toward Vish. Instantly the guards floored him and stabbed him with a tranquilizer. As the drug settled in, Kwae lay motionless, unable to accept that his dougla had done this to him.
When Kwae opened his eyes, he felt the coldness of the floor seeping through his back. He was in his cell. He could barely move as the tranquilizer had only partly worn off. He began to think. How could Vish carry me on this merry-go-round? Is he part of the Scare-’em Crew? Just the thought of it made his stomach churn, and he had to turn on his side to throw up. As he rolled back, turning his face away from the puke, he heard keys clanking and officers jabbering loudly. The Afro officer didn’t have his usual silly smirk. The Indo one had a container in his hand which he upended, drenching Kwae in cold water. Kwae had barely uttered a few words when he was cut short by the sneering tone in the Afro officer’s voice.
“Time to get ready for the hard life of jail, yuh buller criminal.”
“Yeah, no more pretty-boy treatment,” the Indo sneered. Kwae shivered as they handcuffed him and dragged him through the pissy walkway. This treatment was far harsher than that which he had received earlier. Now he was a convicted criminal and as good as dead. He didn’t care. He felt dead already remembering Vish’s betrayal. His soul seemed to have left his body, and he didn’t have the fight in him to protest or even to try to walk.
As the stench stung his nostrils, he remembered Redman’s murder scene. He had just walked into the car parts place at the swamp that day when he saw the big burly body lying facedown in a puddle of blood. He had been so stunned at the sight that his eyes began to blur. His mind became so cloudy that it took him awhile to realize that the scene was actually real. Unfortunately, instead of running out the back entrance, he headed through the front and tripped over a cutlass. As a reflex he picked up the bloody cutlass and then dropped it and continued running. His fingerprints on the cutlass led the police straight to him. Of course those were the only prints the lazy morons decided to take.
Kwae’s mind shifted back to the present. His underarms began to hurt as the guards dragged him to the visiting room where they had fun taunting him, tapping him up, and threatening to do all kinds of strange things with his rear end. They can’t scare me — I’m as good as dead. I just can’t believe these bastards are so sick. They left him sitting in the visiting room listening to the hum of a radio down the hall. Who could be coming to see me? Maybe this is part of the new treatment — how wonderfully torturous. His thoughts drifted back to the courtroom and Vish’s testimony...