The Editor, Sir:

Thanks for publishing my first letter. It was really kind of you. Hope to meet you in Heaven. But while I am waiting for the rapture, I have a few more things to get off my chest. Mi dying to get away from dem disgusting neighbours of mine, those annoying duppies. Because of them and the water that seep into my grave, mi cannot rest in peace.

Last year, there was a funeral right beside me, police victim. Them bury him wid whole heap a gold chain roun him neck. There was a lot of bawling for the thiefing bwoy. The girlfriend she drop dung pon the casket before them put it inna the grung. One cow bawling she mek when she remember that she was not going to get any more tiefing goods.

gold chains

She even have the heart to walk on my grave top. Can you see my dying trial? Is only because mi cyaan walk why mi never frighten off the piece of wig from har head. Before she remove the gold chain dem from the bwoy neck. I guess he want dem to pave the streets of gold. But, God nuh want no tief up there or any tiefing gold, so he can go to Hell for all I care.

One day, the bwoy come knock pon mi grave asking if mi want gold chain to buy, say him bruck. Mi never wear chain when mi was alive, but is now mi going to buy chain, idiot. Mi no hear him for one whole night, so when mi investigate, him say him find a crack in him grave top and him spirit just seep out.

Him went to Town, but everybody him meet run and bawl. Then, the bullet wound in him neck start to pain him so him had was to come back. Not even the girlfriend recognise him. Him also learn that shortly after him funeral, she find another man, another tiefing man.

slave master

So, every move him move, the chain dem rackle and disturb mi. Mi could swear mi hear him singing bout him have nuff maggots inna bungle. Him better put the chain dem round dem neck.

Then the old slave master in front of mi, him weep and moan day in, day out, asking God to forgive him for beating and killing the slaves, saying it was business, it was not personal. Him have a nerve. It was business to kill my fore-people dem! He could be bright. Have the heart one day to ask if mi could give him some of the water that seep inna mi grave. Mi simply refuse. Let him feel what the slave dem did feel, wicked. Why dem put mi beside him mi don't know. Look from when him dead.

And tell Satan not to get too bright. Who would want to spend eternity with that ole Devil?

I am, etc.,

Gemima Innerarity

May Pen Cemetery