This is a prequel to S for Secret Admirer.

“Yo brethren ya’know that my list? Every gyal on it. Every fine ass gyal, man. Because your boy Rasta picky. Daniella, Susan, Araba,  err…Martin’s gyal? Me nah know ‘er name.”

“Silvia?” Legacy supplied.

“Silviaaa! Yah man, she the one. Me wan tap that tin since she come inna this school man.” Rasta continued, looking quite pleased with himself. I laughed at him.

“My guy kommot. Nobody has ever ‘tapped’ those girls before. Look sharp take one of the ‘loose’ people and stop this your daydreaming,” Legacy said, laughing too. Rasta didn’t even look perturbed. He coolly swatted at a mosquito buzzing near his ear.

“Y’all go ‘head pretend ya dan know your boy Rasta got chaarrms,” he grinned, unconsciously flipping a page of the textbook he was pretending to read. I laughed again.

“Wey charms? Massa! You can’t even read a textbook right.” Laughing harder I turned the textbook to face him properly. He had been trying to read it upside down. He laughed too.

“Me know that not be how inna the plant cell look like! Fuck education man, all enlightenment can be found through the ‘erb. Lighter fit solve any-”

“Excuse me,” a feminine head poked through an opening in the doorway, “You might think because you’re alone in this classroom you can make noise, but others in the class next door can hear you and it’s distracting. Either you stop making noise or I’ll call a teacher on you.”

It was the Head Girl. For a minute we were stunned by the rude interruption of our conversation. Then Rasta chuckled.

“Yo ‘Ead Gyal. I wan ask you something. I ‘eard from me friend that you quite the moaner, ‘ow true’s that?”

With a look of disgust the head disappeared. Rasta chuckled harder. He never saw my arm snake up from behind him. I caught his head in my palm and slammed it on the table. His forehead smashed into the textbook in front of him, and almost immediately he was out of his chair and about to attack me.

“What the fuck is wrong with you man? That was fucking painful, what did you do that for?” he said, shaking a fist at me.

I was also out of my seat, ready for blood.

“You know I like her, why the hell will you say th-” my excuse for my sneak attack was interrupted by Legacy doubling over in hysterical laughter.

“Ah, Leg what the fuck dey wrong you?!” Rasta asked, still very angry.

With difficulty, Legacy spoke.

“As…them….carry….your head wack…the table…the fake Jamaican patois…all vanish! Them carry your head wack table make your memory switch to default settings, aboa!”

2 thoughts on “Mining

  1. Your blog is truly a breath of fresh air. I was really intrigued by the simple aura of authenticity surrounding this story. It’s so normal, but its so striking because of its normalcy. Your whole blog is striking because of its normalcy, and I am hooked by the sheer simplicity of it all. I miss home just reading your stories and I can almost associate the voice of your characters with a friend I knew long ago, or with a neighbor, or with a parent. The beauty of your writing shines through the simple relatable nature of your work, and I do commend you greatly for this. I definitely will direct some of my friends desperately in search of a good Ghanaian read your way. I love your writing and I hope that this review is able to make your day; your blog made mine.

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