Mahnin' Neighbour

The tropical sun rose sharply, evaporating the morning mist and exposing the lush green land that separated the two wooden houses.  A mixture of tufted grasses, crab grass and low-lying bushes lay on the 600 square feet of land between the houses. The houses themselves stood on wooden posts 10 feet off the ground, exposing the “bottom house” where hammocks slouched still in the thick morning air.

A shuttered window at the side of the house pushed open and a face, gingerly peeped out as a sunbaked hand reached for the hook to keep the shutters open. Narrowing her gaze towards her neighbour’s house, Sav smiled smugly at herself when she noticed Bibi’s windows were still shuttered.  “Me win today. She na even crack open she windows and it gan in six o’clock!”  The victorious Sav pulled herself back inside while whistling along with the kiskadee that sang its shrill song in the morning sun.

Having seen her husband and sons off to the farm at 5 am, made the beds and washed the morning dishes, she could now spend a few minutes to herself before the baby awoke. Stirring her instant coffee and still wearing a smile, Sav settled herself on the verandah, awaiting the moment when Bibi would awaken and find that her neighbour had been sitting there all along. She had barely set her cup down on the verandah railing when a high-pitch voice called out to her. “Mahnin’ Sav!” Sav’s coffee cup nearly tumbled the thirteen feet to the crocus bush below.  Sav bristled her back and looked to the dirt path from whence came the voice.  

“Ya lookin’ fresh, gal. Ya jus wake up? Been to market, ya know. Me na see ya there! Dally wan fa know when ya comin’ fe ya baigan. She say if ya na come soon she gan sell it to Lil’ Boy. Early bird does catch the worm, ya know! Haffa make most of de day!” Even as she headed to her house, Bibi’s voice hung in the humid air and seemed to linger there just to mock Sav.

Sav struggled to find the voice and the opening into which to insert her reply.  “Ah, yes, mahnin’, Bibi!” The usually verbose Sav grappled to pull another thought together. “Da sun hot a’ready!”  

“Right, right. ‘Specially when ya ga walk to market and fetch back ya basket!”

Sav felt the sting of the comment and rose to grab the pointer broom that leaned against the wall. 

“Yeah. Mind da sun don tun dem vegetables brung.”

“Na me gan cook ‘em up right now! Day wastin’ a’ready!”

Sav began to sweep the verandah with more vigour than was necessary, all the while keeping a slant eye on Bibi as she mounted her narrow open staircase with her basket of fresh vegetables. Bibi entered her door with a spunk and smugness all her own. Sav set the broom aside briskly, picked up her still full cup of coffee and bustled inside, her face burning with shame and indignation.

Every day for as long as they can remember, Sav and Bibi played this little game of who was the most hard-working, early-rising wife in the village. Rivalry seemed as natural as the mangroves that grew on the island’s edge without nurturing. Each took pride in keeping their houses swept, their yard animals tempered and their families well-fed.  Island life was rigorous but predictable.  It was in the village banter that Sav and Bibi found their escape from routine and work.

Sav checked quickly on the baby who was still sleeping and then slipped out the door and down the narrow staircase that ran along the outside of the house.  Tossing a glace towards Bibi’s house she noticed that all the windows had been opened. She hurried down to the bottom house where she unlatched the storeroom, grabbed the bucket of grain and headed to the fowl pen at the back of the house. A flurry of feathers and clucking ensued as Sav gave a cursory count of the chickens. “...two, tree, four, five…but waiyt!” Counting again, Sav realized there was one chicken missing.  As she scanned her eyes across the yard, her ears pricked up at a faint clucking coming from the tufted grass between the houses. Making her way swiftly to the source of the sound she failed to notice Bibi looking on from her kitchen window. 

“Da chicken so wayward!” she hollered.  

Doing her best to ignore Bibi’s amusement, Sav narrowed in on the chicken, all the while uttering threats of chicken curry and maybe some stew.  As she closed in on the chicken, it suddenly flitted off the ground and towards Bibi’s bottom house.  Just as the chicken was nearing the house, Bibi came flying down the staircase, rolling pin in hand.  She waved the instrument threateningly and the chicken flew back to the middle of the grass, caught between the two neighbours.  As the chicken settled, the women had time to eye one another and smile with amusement at the situation in which they found themselves. 

“Wa ya gan do with da rolling pin? Make roti with da chicken?” Sav cackled a laugh at her own joke.

“Well, you like was gan run da chicken straight to me pot!” Bibi retorted, rolling pin still raised.

“You pot only does get chicken foot! Me chicken woulda come back footless!”

“Hehe! Footless! Hehe! How he woulda come back?” Now it was Bibi’s turn to chuckle.

The chicken, unimpressed with the banter and confident that he was not in imminent danger, pecked away at the grain that had spilled out of Sav’s bucket. 

“Well, look like he gan fatten up before he go in da pot fe sure!” Bibi remarked.

“If only he mine heself ‘til then!”

Just then, the sharp cry of the waking baby pierced the air and the chicken startled with fright and darted back to the pen.

Sav turned instinctively toward the house at the same time as Bibi lowered the rolling pin and turned to her house.

“Me gan see ya fa tea this aftnoon, Sav?”

“Yes, gal. Same time as always.”