Mysterious deaths in Red Light district

There's a sinister scheme afoot in a place called Red Light district, near Irish Town in St Andrew.

Dogs, small cats, goats and pigs have been dying in unusually high numbers and people from the area suspect foul play.

"Somebody ah poison dem! My likkle dog, weh mi kip ah yard wid me, just drop dung so. Dat nuh mek no sense," said Willie, an ageing mason who was busy laying blocks for a grave he was creating at St Mark's Anglican church. The church is just outside Red Light district. I had come across Willie and a handful of workmen busy trying to meet the deadline for a funeral to be held there two days later.

The dying animals have put the normally laid-back people of Red Light district on edge and plans are being hatched to put an end to the vile misdeeds, once and for all.

"No more dog nah go dead! Before dat, we build one more grave and get rid ah di brute, good and proper," said Willie, violently grabbing a shovel from the ground.

Abraham, a gangly fellow in a red cap, chuckled, then wiped a bead of sweat from his brow.

"Mi have one ah dem Canadian hog ah yard deh, and mek mi tell yuh, if somebody really feel seh dem can come kill off my hog, it nah go pretty," he said.

"Dem hog deh nuh eat mango skin. Is pure bag feeding dem eat, so mi nuh able fi go lose my two shilling."

Abraham looked around, then sighed. "Dem people come get pon mi spirit. Dem come mek mi feel uneasy."

The right thing

He quickly walked over to a black bag tied to a nearby tree branch. From it, he retrieved a bottle of white rum and the other men started cheering.

"Ah di right ting dat man! Right ting! It mek di work go likkle faster," Willie shouted.

So the bottle was passed around and the merriment increased dramatically, even though the task at hand was by no means cheerful.

"We must set a trap fi di bwoy! We can tie one goat outa road and we just go inna di bush go hide. When we see whosoever come fool round di goat, di whole ah we just run out pan him and nyam him food," said a pot-bellied middle-ager with a scraggly beard, whose only discernible contribution to the grave-digging was this very comment.

Abraham belched loudly. "Have mi excuse," he said, patting his chest.

I asked the men what life was like in the community, the serious animal-related issue notwithstanding.

"Red Light ah di best place inna di world!" said Willie.

The other men cheered. They told me that they were all farmers, even though they also filled in as community masons and carpenters whenever the need arose.

"Most people over a certain age dat yuh see in this place is really a farmer. All of we have a likkle ground what we work pon. No lazy people nuh live pon dis hill," Willie said.

"Di crosses what is poisoning di people dem good good animal is di big ting right now. Is jealous dem jealous because di animal ah live good life. When we find him and deal wid him, den everything will be back to normal."

robert.lalah@gleanerjm.com