Brixton Bwoy. Rocky Carr

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       3 Brother Joe

      As time passed, Pupatee settled into his life in South London. Even after a couple of years he still missed his brother Carl, and the freedom and colour of his outdoor life in Jamaica, but as he made new friends and learned new ways, the acute homesickness of the early days receded. His English had improved, school was bearable now he was gaining respect from his peers for his toughness in the playground, and although he still received regular beatings from Joe, he had learned to mind them less.

      One morning, Pupatee woke up late for school. He leaped out of bed and ran down the stairs, pulling on his clothes. ‘Why didn’t anybody wake me?’ he called. Miss Utel and all the children were standing in the hall, dressed in their Sunday best. Half the furniture was missing from the house. Through the open door Pupatee could see a big blue removals van.

      ‘We’ve finished putting everything in the van, Mummy,’ Terry was saying. ‘Are they ready to go now?’

      ‘Hold on a minute, Terry,’ Miss Utel said, turning to Pupatee. ‘Pupatee, I am sorry I can’t take you with me. You are not my child, you will have to stay with your brother.’ She fished into her purse and pulled out a few shillings. ‘Take this, Pupatee. Goodbye.’

      He took the money and stared at her, and beyond to Terry and Johnny and the rest all waiting to leave. Miss Utel turned as if to go, but suddenly she stopped and he saw a look of worry and concern on her face. ‘Pupatee,’ she said, ‘when you grow up, don’t kill Joe for what he put you through. He is your brother.’ Then she walked out the door and Pupatee watched the van drive away.

      For the rest of that day, all Pupatee could do was wait for his brother to come home. When Joe opened the front door, he immediately realised what had happened. A string of insults flew from his mouth, and Pupatee prepared himself for the worst, but for the first time he saw something else beneath his brother’s anger. Joe looked lost.

      ‘Fucking prostitute,’ he said. He shook his head as if trying to banish all thoughts of Miss Utel and his children from his mind. Then he walked into the kitchen, which was bare apart from a few old plates and cups and saucepans – though Miss Utel had been good enough to leave some food.

      Pupatee was curious at his brother’s unusual behaviour and followed him quietly. He watched Joe standing there with a vexed look on his face, trying to work out what he was going to do. Joe sighed heavily. ‘Pupatee,’ he shouted loudly, unaware that the boy was right behind him.

      ‘Here, bredda.’

      ‘Oh, you’re there. Now listen carefully. I am going to teach you how to cook, because if I don’t work we won’t be able to eat and if I have to come home and cook as well, then one night I’ll drop dead.’

      ‘Yes, bredda.’

      Joe turned immediately to the counter, saying no more about Miss Utel, and took out a packet of white rice.

      ‘Put this in a container and pick it,’ he said. ‘Take out all the black bits and the dirt and stones.’ While Pupatee did this, Joe took some cabbage and a knife and told him to watch what he did. ‘You cut the cabbage in half like this and cut up one half fine. Then you put three pots with water on the stove.’ He put the cabbage in one pot. ‘Don’t put too much water with the cabbage,’ he said, ‘otherwise it will boil out to sogginess. It should be steam cooked, you see?’

      Then he showed Pupatee how to chop up saltfish, which he put in the second pot. ‘You boil it to get the salt out,’ he said. By now, Pupatee had finished picking the rice, and he washed it and tipped it into the third pot.

      Then Joe put a Dutch oven on the stove and poured oil on to the bottom. ‘Cut this onion up,’ he said, ‘and chop this garlic fine.’ When Pupatee had done this, the garlic and onions began to fry and a delicious smell rose from the pan. ‘Now you add butter and salt and a small onion to the rice,’ Joe said, ‘and leave it on a low fire to bubble away.’

      By this time, the saltfish was soft and the salt had boiled away into the water. Joe took it out and pulled the flesh off the bone. Then he added it to the frying garlic and onions, and seasoned the dish with chilli peppers, curry powder, turmeric, thyme and salt. Soon the beautiful smell of Jamaican cooking was filling the kitchen, and Pupatee’s mind wandered happily. His reverie didn’t last long.

      ‘When the fish is ready, you can add it to the cabbage and let it all simmer up together. Now you got all that?’

      ‘Yes, bredda.’

      ‘Tell me how you start then.’

      Pupatee’s mind raced, searching for the beginning, but all he could think about was how cross Joe suddenly looked and how he didn’t want him to get any crosser.

      ‘Wash the rice,’ he said.

      Slap! Joe’s hand smacked the side of Pupatee’s head.

      ‘What about picking it?’ he boomed out.

      ‘Yes, and pick it,’ Pupatee said, recalling what he had done. ‘Put the rice in to cook, adding salt СКАЧАТЬ