Morning Run.

It was in the wee bit of the morning, that we decided to get up very, very early, before the sun rose, and way before rosters started crowing.  Decided we were going to exercise; we were going for a morning run, my sisters and I.  I had just returned from my first time in farin and brimming with all the confidence and boasiness of new farin’ness.  Leotard on (yes! a bright shocking color, shiny, green one), ready for the early morning run, in the middle a di darkness and all.  Of course, I managed to recruit my younger sister who, though cautious, was inspired by the new forin way of things.  So, as early morning reach, we get up, got dressed and opened the door to the darkness.  We peeped outside, the calm and stillness of the air greeted us along with the sly expectancy only the darkness of a country street could give.  Thank goodness for the streetlight at the corner, at the first junction of the road.  Not to be daunted by this quiet calm, we expertly did a stretch and a quick assessment of what was ahead of us.  In my assessment, the only anticipated problem was the common mawga dogs known to traverse the Jamaican streets.  So, with my farin confidence and assurance we set off with an easy jog down the road.  Duppy was the furthest thing from our minds.  But as we started to turn up the darker street, where the stoplights never reach, the thought didn’t seem so far fetched.  The sounds of the early morning became very crisp and clear. In the newly encountered darkness, every peenie wallie was loudly heard.  The overconfident speech I was giving to my sister was now punctuated with random pauses, under bulging eyes darting from left to right. They desperately searched the dark expanse for a glimpse of anything daring to move.  My sister, not wanting to openly betray this farin adventure quietly suggested that maybe “we could go back now.”  Lawd of mercy, she couldn’t have made the suggestion any sooner.  Still inna me farin boasiness I nonchalantly agreed, wid me eyes dem still peering open and darting from side to side.  All the while thanking God.  Before we could have turned back, we first si dis tiny little red light, in what we know to be a bush area.  We saw the little light moving out of the bush and moving towards us.  Then we si something like a big whitish outline looking like it a move wid di likkle red light, den we hear sump’en and a big rustling comin out of the bush and a head towards wi.  Me say we run, we run, we run.  All farin’ess gone, “a wha dat, a wha dat” was all I could say.  Heart a race, not even reaching the area with the streetlights could comfort us.  Straight inna the yaad pon the veranda.  I don’t even remember, if we remember fi turn we roll before we reach in the house.  S o you know what gooda follow we go inna di house. Lawd a mercy, heart a beat out of wi chest, we no know wha fi do.  Eventually, we settle down enough to recount the story to our other younger sister and mother who had wisely decided not to join us on this run.  You could not tell us we had not just seen a duppy.  For the whole day we were convinced something was in that bush and so it was. Well that’s it fi morning run. Ith was settled. Later on that day, there was a fun day at the beach and we decided to go.  As we walked to the beach and from a good distance we carefully eyed the spot of the earlier near encounter.  We didn’t see any specific evidence of any duppy but we were sure something was there.  At the risk of it trying anything we started to scurry on. At the same time we heard someone call out to us. We turned to look and it was a friend of ours.  “What unnu was doing out so early this morning” he asked.  My sister and I paused looked at each other, then busted out laughing as we looked at our friend standing there in a huge white t-shirt with a red-lighted spliff in his hand.  

Big up Ernie Smith “It must be a duppy or a gunman”