Weekend Lime

         Friday afternoons was the door way to my weekend. As soon as school was over the air began to smell and sounds of the weekend that was about to come. After school everyone was stuck in two modes, one was slow and leisurely while the other was more of a hurry up and get things done mode. On Fridays I was always in the mode of “hurry up and get it done”. I normally rushed home from school to start doing my laundry that accumulated during the week. I washed my uniforms, home clothing and every other Friday I was made to wash the bed sheets and the living room curtains were also my responsibility. I would clean my room and then make it my business to make sure the living room and kitchen were tidy. After I got to 2nd form I got use to doing these things. I realized that doing them would give me less chores to do on Saturday mornings.
         While most of my schoolmates would linger after school just to meet up with boys or play games. I did not have those desires; I hated to stay in school for more than an hour after the teacher let us out of class. Only the considerably cool students who did not have demanding parents to deal with could do such things and I was definitely not one of them. Most Fridays I would get home before my mother and brother. This gave me two hours or more to complete my tasks. My brother on the other hand came and went as he pleased. His normally behavior on any day was to come home after school, change out of his uniform then immediately head for the door. His time away from the house was never questioned, which left him up to his own doings. He was never forced to stay at home or complete homework. He went and came at his own discretion with no second thoughts from my mother. 
         I had long grown accustom to the weekends in my household. Chores on Saturdays were typical for me. From cleaning the yard, windows, oven, helping my mother wash her cumbersome bedspreads, scrubbing carpets and cleaning the bathroom were all part of a normal Saturday. On some Saturdays we did all these things which might seem unbelievable to the fortunate many who slept in on Saturdays. We would be woken up around 7am by loud music coming from my mother’s rooms or living-room which signaled time to get up.  I was always the kind of child who got right up at the very sound of Burning Flames blaring in the background. My brother on the other hand stayed in bed until my mother came looking for him. Sometimes, he got up extra early to escape Saturday chores. Then there were the Sundays where he would get up at the crack of dawn just to watch cartoons. It always amazed me at how early he could get up to do these things but during the school week we could hardly get him out of bed. This was how my brother operated, he never got up on time to get ready for school but he was up earlier than anyone on the days we did not have school. This Saturday routines continued long after I left home and was push out into the world. As we got older Saturday chores became fewer but they did not disappear completely for me unlike my brother. By the time he was 15, his participation in Saturday chores were reduced signification. On some occasions he was only made to rake the yard or take the garbage out then he was gone. The end of Saturday chores was usually signal by my mother preparing food for dinner.  If I was lucky by 12pm everything was completed, while other times it lasted until almost 3pm. Sometimes the end of the chores was signaled by my mother getting ready to go food shopping in the afternoon. She did the shopping on her own late in the afternoon on Saturdays to avoid the morning crowds. We never when shopping together, I could count the times we actually when to the supermarket together, back then it was very few. 

         On one particular Saturday the major chore of the day was cleaning the yard. We woke up before 7am to start raking and heading the trash and dried leaves to the garbage heap. By the time the sun was up we were done and my mother was raking all the extra dried leaves, twigs and sticks into a pile to be burnt in the back yard. I remember her getting the fire started sometime after the sun started shinning hot upon.  After the fire started I stood watching the fire while feeding it with sticks and lose papers with my mother and brother did the same. Then there was a point when my mother turned to us after the fire started roaring. She turned and said that she felt like pushing us both into the fire. I was puzzled by her statement and I could not understand where it came from. I did not think that we were doing anything that could be interpreted as misbehavior. My brother and I, looked at her then looked at each other but said nothing then continued worked in silence until the fire was gone. Our mother when back to feeding the fire like nothing happened, as if what she said should not have an impact on us. Standing there I had a hard time not believing that if she could have done it she would.  I started to think that she was joking but it did not seem like a joke. Then I tried to recall what my brother was doing at the moment. I figured he did something to get her upset but I could not tell not even with him standing next to me. She looked so serious but I wanted to believe that it was just a joke not a thought that escaped her mind. I knew it was not an accident and I felt as if she meant it deep down inside. After that our Saturday went on like normal but her words were on my mind. My brother and I never spoke about it amongst ourselves. I guess it was the fear of knowing she meant it.

         That Saturday afternoon, my brother and I said nothing to each other about what my mother said to us by the fire. We went on with our Saturday afternoon and night like normal, as if what had happened that day was a part of our life. That evening my two cousins came by our house to watch television like usual. I said nothing to them and place the event in the back of my mind. Time spent with them on the weekends was all I looked forward to. While my cousins and I stayed inside and watch television my brother’s normal habit was to take off with his friends and return whenever he placed. My brother was two years younger than I, but his sex made him stand over me in so many ways. After my cousins left I would stay up and watch TV. Then at 11pm or later that was when my mother started to prepare for her night out on the town with her friends.  Ever since I was a child as far back as I can remember to about the 2nd grade my mother would leave us to go out, sometimes Friday nights but mostly Saturday nights. I enjoyed watching her get ready for the clubs. I often helped her zip up her shirts, skirts or dresses. Watching her transform with her makeup bought me some joy.  Most of the time I did the dirty work; like looking for matching shoes or ironing her clothing. I don’t know why I was so inclined to watch her get ready. I guess it was because I saw some joy in her face and I felt important assisting her with her wardrobe. Then there was the fact that I would get to be alone to watch TV all night if I pleased with no one to make me go to bed on time.
         Usually her friends would pick her up and I was sometimes the one to greet them on the veranda and let them know she would be out shortly. I knew that they too had left their children sleeping in bed for a night of fun, dance and a good lime. It seemed like none of them worried too much about their children being safe or doing the wrong thing while they were out. When my mother left for her night of fun she never had to tell me what to do I just knew what to do. I was not to let anyone in the house or invite any of my friends over but most of my friends were asleep by then. The important things were to lock the door, don’t touch the stove and do not light a candles if there was a sudden black out. Even in the 2nd grade when she left on Saturday nights I would not be bothered by it. I had grown a feeling of indifference and it did not bother me to be alone. I honestly loved it when my brother or mother was not around, I found the house was a different place it was nicer this way. At a very early age I understood what it meant to be alone and I preferred it that way. For me an empty house was equated to peacefulness, there was no one to yell me or force me to go to bed early. By morning I would awake and sometimes my brother would not be there and either was my mother. Sometimes the sun beat them home or they came in just before the crack of dawn.

         Sunday came with a quiet air; no one seemed to be in too much of a rush, maybe it was because they were too tired from Saturday night. Almost everyone in the village seemed to be going at a slow pace on Sundays. Walking the road on Sunday mornings had a sense of wonderment, people were doing things they did not do on the other days of the week. Men would sit on the side of the shops playing domino, drinking and just having fun away from their homes. Sundays for me was marked by the smell of beacon, eggs and getting ready for church. My mother and my brother seldom attended church. My mother normally made sure to cook and then she slept in for the rest of the day. While I was forced to attend Sunday school at the Gospel Hall, my bother spent the day with his friends. I dreaded going to Sunday-School but it seemed to be something that every go had to do. My brother attempted to go a couple times but misbehaved so badly that my mother would get complains from the Sunday school-teachers not to send him back. After these complaints he was never forced to attend Sunday school again. I was glad he never went since he was a distraction and I felt embarrassed having a brother who was constantly being asked at to sit down or shut up. Even thought I hated the fact that he was not forced to go, it was better off that way. There was nothing really wrong Sunday-School, the only reason I hated going was because of the other children who attended. Their behaviors were all a watered down version of my brother’s behavior. I felt even at the age of 8 or 13 that their behavior in a house that was supposed to be of God’s was annoying and disrespectful. The adults in charge of us would only tell them to stop doing whatever they were doing but within 10 seconds they were back at it. After awhile the teachers did not even acknowledge their bad behaviors. After awhile punishment or acknowledging their bad behavior ceased. The Sunday school teachers pretended like these children did not excess and when on with their bible studies. What I hated most about Gospel Hall was the bulling by other children and the fact that there were no responsible adults who could stand up and stop them from doing it. My behavior in Sunday school was just like at regular school, I was quiet and permissive. I used my quietness as a weapon, if they did not hear me or notice me then I wouldn’t be pick-on.

         Going to Sunday school every Sunday was a constant reminder of what little I had in the world as I got older. My Sunday school-teachers always told us that God didn’t want anything more than our hearts and all worldly possessions cannot be taken to heaven or hell. The irony of this statement was that it was not taken seriously by the Sunday- School teachers. Many children were often turned away for not wearing proper clothing or what they would call “church clothing”. Everything was scrutinized from my hair, shoes to clothes the worst judge of them all were the other children. Every girl or boy who loved to go to church loved to wear their Sunday best. From stockings, heels, bows, hair well done, jewelry, bags and of course the Sunday dress. The Sunday dress which was made of silk or some such elaborate fabric came in brilliant colors decorated with lace. As I got older it was hard for me to keep up the “Sunday best” appearance. If I got a dress I would wear it until it could not fit. I would wear it until it was well above my knees and too tight across the chest. I got dresses that my cousins could not wear anymore or my aunt made for me. My mother forced me to go to Sunday school every Sunday but never bothers to buy my dresses as time when on. One new dress every six months or a year would have done some good but as I got older I got less and less. Whenever I wore the same dress over and over, she would watch me out of the corner of her eyes, but still not saying anything. A few times I was saved by a funeral or a wedding, some poor member of my family usually on my father’s side would get married or die forcing me to attend which guaranteed me a new dress. The best dress I ever got as a child was a pale pink dress with white stockings and shoes to match. It was for a wedding that I could barely remember for June and Leo-pole, cousins of my father. I got two dresses for that wedding one to wear for the morning ceremony and the other was a simple dress for the reception. I was glad for those dresses because they added two more church dresses to my limited wardrobe. I wore those two dresses until I was well into the 3nd form after receiving them while I was in the 5th grade.
          After Sunday school was over at 1pm, I would rush home to eat. While my brother was off swinging in the ocean or on long adventurous hikes with his friends, I completed homework or pressed my uniforms. My mother spent most Sundays in bed too weary to face the day after her Saturday night-lime. As the sun sat and the sky changed into a color that reminded me of pink lemonade my brother would drift home from his long day of play. I would be pleased to hear his stories of his weekend but at the same time I envied his freedom.

         This was normally my weekend lime. It never changed some things were added or taken away over the years but it always reminded the same throughout. My weekends growing up in Saint Kitts in a small village called Challengers never included going off to the movie theater. There were no shopping malls for us to socialize within; there was nothing but life, work and a few days away from school. Upon returning to school all I would hear from other students was what movie they saw at the theater, what happened at the sleep over and the big jam I missed out on at a club. What did I have to tell these people? How early I got up to wash windows, how my mother argued with me because I dropped her wet bedspread in dirt or my boring Sunday school class. Then there were occasions when a classmate would come up to me, a cool more praiseworthy  peer and say, “Hey, I saw your mother at Club Pumpkin on Saturday night, why don’t you ever go?” She was my only claim to a passive acknowledgement from my peers. She was young, dressed well and looked good; they said she was a great dancer that I never really know for sure. I felt great when they spoke of my mother as being cool and wished that their mother was like her. Someone who was not an eye score, was fashionable and went to clubs. But, did any of them really want to switch places with me and find out what it was like to be her child. After a week with her they would surely trade back with me. But at least then they would know that an eye score loves you while a cool person wishes your existence had never been. 
THE END.


Word meanings
Lime-(British) means to hang out with friends at go club or bar. Being in a social atmosphere. Original term was coined for British sailors in the Caribbean who would often seen drinking at bars and being rowdy at parties they were called “limies”.

2nd form- is a Caribbean term used for 8th grade. 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th and 5th  forms are like the American High School 7th ,8th ,9th ,10th  &11th grades. For example 1A2 was a label given to the 7th grade the two at the end represent the level of the class. 1A2 is like saying 7th grade class B which usually contents student with B- to C+ grades achievement.

Sunday-School – a class usually held on Sundays after church where young people learn about the Bible. Like bible study or take confirmation classes..etc

Jam- this is context it means a dance usually in an outside atmosphere involving a live band.

The End.