Lucifer
by Delroy "Nesta" Williams
“What is the capital of Jamaica?’ I
thought to myself. I knew the answer; it was either Kingston or Kingstown. I
always mixed up these two but it wasn’t the time to be unsure. I needed that
answer to get an A on my final exam. I had already calculated my score in my
head. My mother had promised me a trip to Roseau during the summer if I had
gotten all A’s. I couldn’t wait to run along the city streets and go to the
market with her. I had never been to Roseau, I heard a lot of things about it
though, my mother would go there ever so often and always returned with lots of
groceries and fine things.
I had imagined
Roseau as a very big city, with very tall buildings, wide streets not like the
wooden houses and dirt roads of Gros Michel, far from that too. There was no
way the capital could be anything like my village. Besides with street names
like King George V Street and Great George Street, I couldn’t help but think
that Roseau was a majestic city full of business men driving their fancy cars,
looking really important in their suits and ties. At least that’s what I read
in books about the cities of Europe, I would expect the same of Roseau.
“Delroy, Delroy... what’s de answer for
12 an 15?” whispered someone behind me, disturbing my thoughts.
“I doh know ner,” I responded
without even turning around for fear that Teacher Roach would see me. She heard
and saw everything; I was scared to death of that lady. She was so stern and
meticulous, nothing escaped her.
“Tell me ner before Teacher come
back in de class”
“No boy, I fraid,” I continued.
“Boy jus say de ting quick before
she come back, hurry ner,”
“No boy, I cyah do that.”
“Hear de man, boy I doh want to fail
that test ner, I doh want to repeat mamzelle class,”
At that very moment,
a cold breeze filled the room, everything got quiet and even the mosquitoes
that were buzzing around my arms and legs seemed to stand still. The hands on
the old class clock, which only worked during exams, seemed to stop too.
“Delroy and Dwight, what have I said
about talking during tests?” Teacher Roach asked sternly.
I stayed quiet;
I wasn’t going to utter a word, not me, never.
“Delroy! Dwight! Who is going to
answer me?”
“I cyah remember ner Teacher,”
Dwight responded defiantly.
“You cyah remember ner Teacher?” she
responded mockingly, “We will see who remembers when I take out Lucifer from
the cupboard.”
Lucifer was a
giant rod that was kept locked up in the class cupboard and only used for
“special” occasions. I had overhead the other teachers referring to it as the
rod of correction. Teacher Roach used it to perfection, scaring the life out of
all its victims. I had only received two strokes from Lucifer before and I
didn’t want anymore. I had trouble sitting down on my chair for weeks after
that.
“Who remembers what I have said
about talking during tests?’ Teacher Roach asked the class.
“Teacher, you say we shouldn’t talk
with anybody or cheat,” responded Mary. I hated Mary, she was always quick to
respond and yearned to be the teacher’s favourite. To say she annoyed me and
the class was the biggest understatement.
“And who can tell me what Delroy and
Dwight were doing?”
“Miss they were talking,” Mary
responded again without any hesitation.
“Is that against the rules?”
“Yes Teacher,” the class all
responded in complete unison.
“What do we do to students who break
the rules?”
“We show them to Lucifer!” Michael,
a boy in the back row shouted out.
“How many strokes do you recommend
Mary?”
“Me, Teacher,” she quirked, “I would
give them five each,” she continued with a huge grin.
“Delroy, take the keys from the desk
and take Lucifer from the cupboard.”
“No Teacher, no,” I cried out, “it
wasn’t my fault.”
“So whose fault was it?”
At that point I
looked over to Dwight and I could see the anger building up inside him. I was
caught between a rock and a hard place, but I could always escape Dwight;
Lucifer on the other hand was a sure thing.
“So whose fault was it Delroy?”
Teacher Roach asked again.
“Teacher, Dwight that ask me for
answers to questions 12 and 15,”
“Dwight is that true?”
Dwight didn’t
budge, he didn’t say a word but I could tell that if he could have killed me at
that time that he would have done it so swiftly that not even the hand of God
could have prevented my death. The vein in the middle of his forehead was about
ready to pop open; the blood would have splashed all over the walls of the classroom.
“Delroy, get me the rod, now!
“Yes Miss,”
As I returned to
my seat I put my head on my desk. I had just sent Dwight to the slaughterhouse but
the sad thing is that he would survive and revenge would be his own. Dwight
didn’t utter a sound during his five strokes; he was too busy thinking about
how he would pay me back for the treachery.
We still had two
more exams to complete before the end of the day. I could be sure he or his
friends wouldn’t attack me before the bell had rung. I was quickly devising an
escape strategy. I needed a plan since my house was on the other side of the
village and I had to cross the guava field and pass directly in front of
Dwight’s house before reaching Lime Street.
30 years ago today; we lost an icon, leader, teacher, rastafarian and most of all someone that we could relate to.