Short Story: From Ghetto to Paved Streets
By: MLB

Walking out from nowhere, the stench of fermented urine peeled through Urmay’s nose as she went down Jeremie Street, where she grew up. Semi paved roads with staggering potholes was no place to wear her high heeled shoes, but the fear of removing them was greater. At the next junction, a young lad, with dark eyes perched on the bleached-out wall, tarnished with meaningless and colorful spray painting. His palm, and finger nails were stained black and his hungry body sluggishly sat on a torn up cardboard box, sprawled as bedding. He curled up bareback with what seem to be black trousers held up at his waist with cement cord and rolled up at his ankles. His feet gripped the dirty pavement like claws and dirt had accumulated between his toes. The stench of the need-for-a-bath, slapped through Urmay’s face, turning up her nose. It was Saturday morning and the market steps were unusually bare.

Urmay continued walking towards Chaussee Road, maybe she might meet some of her old friends. They would be thrilled. Rats scattered hearing unfamiliar tapping from Urmay’s shoes, dilapidated buildings bowed to the streets, partly crumbled, with no sign of occupancy. Two children came from between the cracks, the older carrying the younger staring at her. Urmay grew increasingly afraid as the two children walked towards her, shyly whispering “da lady… da lady… Urmay did not have the guts to look as the taller child got closer, with slender fingers outstretched begging, “da lady, jus ten dullers to buy two bread for the children, not much, please da lady.” Out of fear Urmay walked briskly turning right into Chausee Road.

Peering through the cracks Urmay thought she saw a light so she hastened. As she got closer she could hear loud talking. Littered ashtrays and plastic cups laid on the ground surrounding what seemed to be a tuck shop. The women inside wore little clothing and the men sat encircling a bar. Urmay slowed down attempting to pass un-noticed. The men, all drunken wailed at Urmay beckoning for her to come over. “Psst …psst psst. Women so pretty should all be naked, whoa. Want to spend the night wid me hunny, I’ll be ur sugar…ha ha ha” One woman walked a few steps behind Urmay saying, “my girl doh worry, I have what you need. Urmay continued walking till she could have heard nothing but whispers in her own mind.

Tears trickled down Urmay’s face and her hands trembled, as she continued walking while darkness gradually surrounded her. Suddenly out from the gutters jumped a bouncy young man, with his tux way too large for his size. He sidled up to Urmay with dark sunglasses and shiny jewels dangling from his neck. His fading gold watch, way too large, and his tiger-skinned shoes bold in her face. “Whey is you going pretty whoman? I not going there if I were you?” Urmay, devastated and lost asked, “Where am I? Why can’t I go that way?” The young man smiled showing his washed-out gold tooth.”All a dem foreigners wanna know de same ting, lady, ching ching… I tell you all you wanna know.” Urmay reached for her purse, only twenty dollars left. Before she looked up, the young man grabbed her purse and asked if she had anything tangible to tie up the debt, looking at her wedding band on her finger. Urmay in disarray removed her watch given to her by one of her closest friends and said “this is all you’ll be getting.” The young man took Urmay down into the gutter and as they got to some trickling waters, he said,”watch your step” and stooped crawling through cobwebs into a deeper culvert until they reached a cozy room under a bridge. A torch barely lit the room. Two cushioned plastic chairs were on either side of the torch and a footstool at centre point packed with telephone directories and Jehovah Witness magazines. In the middle of the room stood a telescope, pointing upwards into the streets. That must be how he saw me, Urmay whispered, thinking aloud. “You said sumting…?” the young man asked and before Urmay could answer he darted behind the cardboard wall saying, “Gimme a minute ok!”

Urmay stood with clasped hands staring from corner to corner trying to make sense of all this. From behind the cardboard box the young man came out, with a plain T. Shirt tucked neatly into short pants. Surprisingly he looked a little bit more mature. “We can sit over there,” he said in a tone quite different from a thug on the streets. Urmay still in shock sat speechless in the chair. “Would you like some tea? It is the best I can do this morning…” Urmay looked around, “no, no-no, thank you,” she replied still caught up by the pictures pinned neatly unto the cardboard walls. He must have been a very important man at one point she thought. “Ok, my name is Steve, and you are …” “Urmay!” she answered taking her eyes off the wall. “Urmay, nice name, you are in Castries, former capital city of St. Lucia. Since after the elections, Rodney Bay City is where you can find jobs, businesses, shopping and all.” Urmay looked up at a calendar on the far corner of the room; it read June 30th 2020. “In 2010 the ghetto people grew increasingly dangerous committing violent acts, robbing tourists, killing each other, raping young women; impregnating school girls… they were uncontrollable. By 2013 our economy slowly perished. The minister for Castries made attempts to eradicate those habits but they were instilled into their mentalities and no-one absorbed basic corrective measures.

These people bore children and their population increased. The ministers called for assistance from bigger countries and together they incarcerated many people, inside those surrounding hoardings. The minister for Castries, he went as far as walking into this dump. All his trials were in vain we had destroyed our number one resource all on our own. The current prime minister said those who willingly went beyond those hoardings would stay there…the minister for Castries fell into that trap. He was the only one left defending the ghetto people, ”the human rights were bought.” “There’s no more life here, the hoardings are secured inches on centers, and anyone who enters never leaves. Many upper class residents were moved outside… and some persons were moved here. The hoardings are meant to protect civilians from those in here.”
Urmay, gasped for fresh air, her jaw dropped, she could not believe her ears. Looking around staring at the young man who now seemed to be fading into thin air. Her eyes landed on a certificate awarded to the Castries minister and alongside that, a picture with a dead resemblance of the very same young man. “Steve… the Castries MP?” Urmay whispered.

“Urmay! Urmay!” a voice shouting and babbling, “this woman has been sleeping for hours man!” Urmay wide-eyed and thrilled by her dream awoke. John Pencil, her lover was scolding for another meal. Urmay crawled off her bed, and slapped some cold water on her face, then looking at her calendar pinned-up on a broken mirror she noted the date was February 22nd 2010. She winked in disbelief, “Independence Day, this is a sign, we are independent, we depend on no-one, we must help ourselves, we must stand together to overcome,” she whispered. “I must do something,” she said to herself. John soon came through the room door still babbling. “What is wrong with you?” “Pencil, I had this dream…and I think it is our wake up call... I have this idea; I think I can stop the Castries MP from being a vagrant.” “What? Woman, have you lost your mind?” “I can save Castries,” Urmay continued. John stunned, sat abruptly on the old crate which stood as a door jamb in the room. “John, call the guys, we going on a new mission” Urmay said.

By nightfall John had round-up all his gang members. He had told them that Urmay came up with a plan, but he is very concerned about the idea. Bad man Rocky, Jah T, Wada, Vieux Jook, East and West-side boys, Big Joe… all these men showed up. The men were anxious for another mission.

Satisfied with her turn-up, Urmay knew that what she was about to do could cost her life, but in her mind she had to save Castries. In a very low tone Urmay commenced her speech, “Men, we are all citizens of Saint Lucia, we need to change and make our country a better place, stop blaming others for what we ourselves have created.” In the crowd, people exchanged views, and loud murmuring commenced. Volubly Urmay continued, “Silence! I am not finished. It would be the fault of the ghetto people, our fault when the city of Castries goes down the drain. Why do we have to do what some ‘big-boy’ says; huh?” “We keep blaming a white man, but we never make the strides they do in our own country. If we continue this way we will lose our island. St. Lucia is ours and we will remain in charge.” “Castries will remain the ‘City of Castries’.” “Tonight, we shake off bad habits, let the next Prime Minister be from our yard.” “I mean what is the big difference between that lawyer who shot Mikey on the main road, for looking like a vagrant, and Dave here who shot Jah- Looks for messing with his dope? “We say ghetto yutes have love, we claim that the priest and dem eh nothing but liars, dem politicians are nothing but thieves, what are we doing about it?” “After tonight we work through legal channels, we will generate our own money, and remove ourselves from this pile of dirt…houses upon houses. We will make our homes hygienic, disaster-proof and foremost a cozy family. I have just the plan. It may not be easy… but we are strong, and we can do it.”

One could have heard a pin-drop in the silence which prevailed in the streets amongst the people. Amidst the crowd, one man started applauding and echoes of applauds polluted the gathering. Then Urmay smiled and shouted, “I have ten acres of land in Cul de Sac Valley that my father left for me. I want to start a vegetable farm in St. Lucia and we all will work together, we will plant our own food. With the largest amount of money, we will still be poor as we will be just like the greedy politicians, like the baldheads. Today we are putting an end to that, gather your savings; I’m throwing in ten acres of farm land.”

The cheers continued, all the men brought in some savings and started Ghetto Yutes Farm. Today they are major contributors to fresh water fish cultivation and vegetables. The ghettos now have paved streets. Today 30th June 2020, Urmay, at fifty six years old is legendary for her undying efforts for paving the ghetto streets of Castries. Ghetto Yutes Farm produces some of the best cotton worldwide.

Urmay chuckled from her verandah, looking way back at whom what she was and who she has become who she is today… “I saved Castries, but I wonder if the Castries MP ever turned out to be a vagrant?”

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