The Market
It’s hot. The market place is heaving with people some selling their wares, others bargaining for the best price and many milling about waiting for the perfect opportunity to pick a pocket.
Mum is busy arguing over the price of kau kau (sweet potato).
‘50 toea for 5’ she says
The lady agrees and my mother nudges me for a plastic bag to pile her successful barter into.
It’s humid. I swat a fly away from my face, stamp my foot and fan myself by rapidly pulling my t-shirt in and out. I have a love/hate relationship with the market. It’s so busy that after a while I always feel myself becoming claustrophobic, but I love the colours and at some point my mother always gives me 1 kina to go and buy the things I want. Nuts, Lau Laus, Guavas and sour mangoes. Sometimes the ladies sell rascal bands and I collect these with a passion. They are expensive at 15 toea each, but I love the way they look on my wrist. They are made of black rubber and used to line the mouths of 80 gallon drums. It’s amazing how resourceful you can be when the only jewellery to buy comes from a petrol drum.
We walk past more stalls and I flank my mother making sure her bag is between us. As we stroll through the market I look out over the fence and see our car. It has become a habit of mine to check on our car. It is our only escape route in the event something dangerous like a riot or fight kicks off.
As my eyes scan over the market place and back to the car, I see two men trying to break into it. I’m not sure I’m seeing right, so I cover my eyes and squint harder in their direction. I’m right, they’re trying to get in.
I throw the bags at my mother and yell
‘They’re trying too break into the f**king car again Mum’.
She looks, but before she can say anything I’m running, jumping over bags of potatoes and pushing past women haggling over fruit and vegetables. I scream,
‘Hey, hey you f**ks!’
I can hear my mother yelling from behind me, she’s trying to chase me with all her purchases. She wants to stop me.
‘Hey, what the f**k do you fucking c**ts think you’re doing. Get the f**k away from my car’. I’m so angry I can feel my body shaking and the adrenaline pumping through my veins.
I race past the car. I have to run the length of the fence to get out the gate and then double back to the car. They’ve seen me coming and they back away from the car slightly, pretending they’re only looking at it.
I barrel around and as I get within metres of the car, sensibility kicks in and I’m wondering what the fuck I am doing, but it’s too late now. I let loose a tirade of foul language and square up to a man that is twice as tall and twice as wide as me and push him away from the car.
‘You f**king thieving bastards. This is my car, these are my things. F**K YOU! Every f**king week you bastards break into our car and steal our things. F**K OFF!’ Kai Kai Kun u! (this is the nastiest pieces of pidgin I know. Kai Kai means eat and if you put a t on the end of the kun, you’ll get what it means).
He grins at me through Beetlenut stained teeth.
‘Watch your mouth half caste’ (he says this in pidgin – our dialogue apart from the f**ks is all in pidgin). ‘or I’ll cut your tongue out’
‘Really I say’. It looks stupid, but I poke my tongue out at him anyway
‘go ahead'.
I’ve grown bold because I notice the police station behind me and the commotion has drawn a crowd. One of the officers comes to the door to have a look. He doesn’t do much more. They don’t like mixed raced people. They don’t like white people, but they don’t like mixed raced people either.
He starts to walk away.
‘Bastards’ I say
He turns back and whispers low enough for both of us to hear.
‘I’ll be back for you little girl, just you wait’
My mother has caught up to me just as he’s walking away. She doesn’t hear what he says and I am thankful. She glares at him and pulls the finger, which makes me want to laugh hysterically. Mum is Catholic, she barely ever swears and when she pulls the finger it looks comical. Not a firm finger up, but a slightly bent one like she is hoping God won’t see her doing it.
I tell my mother to get in the car. I’m 14, but in situations like this I become the boss. It’s been that way for a while now. I'm angry, infact I'm always angry and anger has a way of making you seem older and in control. I rev the engine and scream out of the car park nearly running a couple of men over.
‘Bastards, the lot of you, f**king thieving bastards’.
Mum puts her seatbelt on and we drive for a few moments in angry silence. In my head I am still swearing. We both feel violated. She’s dark skinned and I am mixed raced and together it feels like we don’t belong in either world. Instead we’re robbed by the people we feel most akin to.
‘I forgot to buy your fathers spinach’ she says
‘Fuck the spinach’
She clips me over the ear and tells me to watch my mouth. She’s the mum again and I’m the child and we file what just happened amongst all of the other things and forget about it.
Mum is busy arguing over the price of kau kau (sweet potato).
‘50 toea for 5’ she says
The lady agrees and my mother nudges me for a plastic bag to pile her successful barter into.
It’s humid. I swat a fly away from my face, stamp my foot and fan myself by rapidly pulling my t-shirt in and out. I have a love/hate relationship with the market. It’s so busy that after a while I always feel myself becoming claustrophobic, but I love the colours and at some point my mother always gives me 1 kina to go and buy the things I want. Nuts, Lau Laus, Guavas and sour mangoes. Sometimes the ladies sell rascal bands and I collect these with a passion. They are expensive at 15 toea each, but I love the way they look on my wrist. They are made of black rubber and used to line the mouths of 80 gallon drums. It’s amazing how resourceful you can be when the only jewellery to buy comes from a petrol drum.
We walk past more stalls and I flank my mother making sure her bag is between us. As we stroll through the market I look out over the fence and see our car. It has become a habit of mine to check on our car. It is our only escape route in the event something dangerous like a riot or fight kicks off.
As my eyes scan over the market place and back to the car, I see two men trying to break into it. I’m not sure I’m seeing right, so I cover my eyes and squint harder in their direction. I’m right, they’re trying to get in.
I throw the bags at my mother and yell
‘They’re trying too break into the f**king car again Mum’.
She looks, but before she can say anything I’m running, jumping over bags of potatoes and pushing past women haggling over fruit and vegetables. I scream,
‘Hey, hey you f**ks!’
I can hear my mother yelling from behind me, she’s trying to chase me with all her purchases. She wants to stop me.
‘Hey, what the f**k do you fucking c**ts think you’re doing. Get the f**k away from my car’. I’m so angry I can feel my body shaking and the adrenaline pumping through my veins.
I race past the car. I have to run the length of the fence to get out the gate and then double back to the car. They’ve seen me coming and they back away from the car slightly, pretending they’re only looking at it.
I barrel around and as I get within metres of the car, sensibility kicks in and I’m wondering what the fuck I am doing, but it’s too late now. I let loose a tirade of foul language and square up to a man that is twice as tall and twice as wide as me and push him away from the car.
‘You f**king thieving bastards. This is my car, these are my things. F**K YOU! Every f**king week you bastards break into our car and steal our things. F**K OFF!’ Kai Kai Kun u! (this is the nastiest pieces of pidgin I know. Kai Kai means eat and if you put a t on the end of the kun, you’ll get what it means).
He grins at me through Beetlenut stained teeth.
‘Watch your mouth half caste’ (he says this in pidgin – our dialogue apart from the f**ks is all in pidgin). ‘or I’ll cut your tongue out’
‘Really I say’. It looks stupid, but I poke my tongue out at him anyway
‘go ahead'.
I’ve grown bold because I notice the police station behind me and the commotion has drawn a crowd. One of the officers comes to the door to have a look. He doesn’t do much more. They don’t like mixed raced people. They don’t like white people, but they don’t like mixed raced people either.
He starts to walk away.
‘Bastards’ I say
He turns back and whispers low enough for both of us to hear.
‘I’ll be back for you little girl, just you wait’
My mother has caught up to me just as he’s walking away. She doesn’t hear what he says and I am thankful. She glares at him and pulls the finger, which makes me want to laugh hysterically. Mum is Catholic, she barely ever swears and when she pulls the finger it looks comical. Not a firm finger up, but a slightly bent one like she is hoping God won’t see her doing it.
I tell my mother to get in the car. I’m 14, but in situations like this I become the boss. It’s been that way for a while now. I'm angry, infact I'm always angry and anger has a way of making you seem older and in control. I rev the engine and scream out of the car park nearly running a couple of men over.
‘Bastards, the lot of you, f**king thieving bastards’.
Mum puts her seatbelt on and we drive for a few moments in angry silence. In my head I am still swearing. We both feel violated. She’s dark skinned and I am mixed raced and together it feels like we don’t belong in either world. Instead we’re robbed by the people we feel most akin to.
‘I forgot to buy your fathers spinach’ she says
‘Fuck the spinach’
She clips me over the ear and tells me to watch my mouth. She’s the mum again and I’m the child and we file what just happened amongst all of the other things and forget about it.
posted by Teaine at 4:28 AM
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