Distant+Whispers

enough. And dat coolie man not gonna choose a Negro gyul ovah he family. T’ink chile!”
Petra gulped air to shoot a retort but nothing came out. The air staled in her body before crawling
out as a whine. “I did, mommeee. I did think about it!”
She had! She had replayed the entire visit to Rajesh’s family in Couva, in central Trinidad, over
and over again—the awkward glances exchanged between Raj’s parents, the conspiracies hatched in
the large eyes of his three sisters. More long silences that she failed to hear clearly. They knew that
Raj was dating a non-Indian girl but probably didn’t expect a black girl. A real dark-skinned. She
clearly wasn’t one of the “red” girls: those multi-ethnic Trini girls with traces of everybody in their
blood.
It was the youngest of the sisters who mentioned Hanuman first. During Petra’s first visit, the
youngest leaned over and whispered to one sister and then the other. Raj had been talking about their
days in Philadelphia, while the two of them were pursuing their MBAs at the University of
Pennsylvania’s Wharton School of Business. Perhaps he thought that this would impress his family. It
didn’t. The youngest had the nerve to look Petra in the eyes and bring up the subject of Hanuman. The
two older girls erupted in laughter. At the time, it didn’t bother Petra. After all, they were like most
teenagers—foolish.
Although, Raj could have, and should have, put a stop to it right then and there. He could have
made it clear just how important she was in his life. Instead he chuckled also. He joined them, even
hugging the youngest one, calling her his favorite. The one who had just insulted his girlfriend, he
called his favorite. Three times it happened! Three visits to his family’s home in Couva and three
times they just so happened to be talking about Hanuman. There were the same conspiratorial glances
and the smiles, then the comments followed by chuckles and laughter. From the girls, from the parents
and from Raj!
They had quarreled about it twice. ‘Never bad talk mih family! Never!’ he shouted. She was
thrown aback by the fury in his eyes, his fingers waving inches from her face, his chest heaving. It
was the first time in their entire relationship that he had raised his voice at her. Slowly, it all became
clear. She insisted that she could never go back to his family’s house. He laughed and said ‘Yuh t’ink
ah gonna climb up that filthy Laventille Hill ta visit yuh?’
And that was that. Almost a month now.
Petra chewed her lips. Just a few minutes ago she had a revelation floating in her head and now
she couldn’t remember what it was. Something about re-creation.
Her mother calmly took the glass out of Petra’s hands. “Ah jus go say one more ting, Petra,”
Petra braced herself.
“Yuh watch yuhself, love,” her mother said firmly. “Here what ah tellin’ yuh. Yuh watch yuh’self.
Dat business in town. Dat company. What it name? TnTClaims? Well, dat he business. He got yuh in.
But now,” Mommy shook her head, “yuh not he sweet ‘ting no more. Yuh jus a Negro gyul takin up
space. Takin someone’s position.”
Petra whirled towards her mother, her eyes shifting from wide-eyed disbelief to glistening
daggers.
“Me? Taking someone’s job? Mommy, please! Raj? Give me a job? Cheeeuppp!”
The suck-teet sound brought a slight grin to her mother’s face. She measured the anger in her
daughter and nodded approvingly.