No Pain Like This Body by Harold Sonny Ladoo

in the backyard boiling coffee. Pa had tobe careful. Nanny had to be out of the kitchen in order for him to talk.
    Jasso held Pa around his waist and said, “Look at de poor man.” Pa smiled a little because he was feeling good like. “Eh, look how dis poor man worryin about he chile. I tell you. Look how he wife drunk!”
    â€œYou go take a little drink?” Pulbassia asked Pa.
    â€œYeh. I go take a little little one wid all you womens.”
    Pa took a little drink, looked at Jasso’s hips a little and then he went outside.
    â€œPast some rum around nuh man,” a villager said to Pa. Pa said sadly, “Is me son who dead. Me mind worryin me bad. All you help all you self nuh.”
    â€œSorry bredders,” the villagers said.
    Pa sat close up to the priest. He told the holy man how Ma was drunk in the kitchen. The priest took out he eyes and said, “But you wife playin in she ass really. You mean she son dead and she drinkin rum?”
    â€œYeh Baba.”
    Their talk was cut short. Nanna and Benwa reached with Rama. The horse crossed over the drain and pulled the cart into the yard.
    There was plenty of excitement in the house. The sober villagers ran out into the yard and the drunk ones stirred in their sleep. The women left Ma in the kitchen and went into the yard to see the child. They were shubbing each other and talking kind of drunk like. Nanny and Sunaree left the coffee in the backyard and ran by the cart also.
    Rama was on the cart all right. Just dead and lying down stiff. He was wrapped up in white sheets; he looked like a sack of flour. When Nanny saw Rama, she started to bawl. “O God! Look how me grandchile dead!”
    And Nanna: “Hush you mout. He done dead aready.”
    But Nanny couldn’t shut her mouth; Rama was already dead but she couldn’t shut her mouth, she kept on saying that Rama was a child and God had no right to kill him.
    The village women were putting on a show. They held their breasts and rubbed their bellies and cried; they cried and cried; rum made them cry, they cried loud loud and blew their noses tort tort tort. Jasso jumped as a monkey and said, “Look at de poor little chile.”
    Pulbassia scratched her behind and groaned.
    The one-legged villager rubbed up against Jasso saying, “I in de mood gal.”
    The village priest was getting on like a madman; he pulled his white beard this way and that way; he shook his thin body this side and that side; then he farted and said, “Bring de chile in de house.”
    A woman hawked and spat on the ground saying, “Dat kiss me ass priest guts like it rotten!”
    Nanna forgot himself. He just stood by the cart and looked at Rama. He didn’t even hear the priest when he said to take the child into the house.
    â€œDowlat!”
    â€œYeh,” Nanna said.
    â€œYou eh hear me say to take de chile in de house,” the Pandit said.
    Nanna and Benwa brought Rama into the house. They put him on the ricebags near the ricebox. Then the Pandit recited a few mantras over him; he spat the verses fast fast. Nanna stood and listened to the mantras.
    â€œOpen de chile now,” the priest declared.
    With trembling hands Nanna removed the sheet from over Rama’s face. Rama’s face was bluish like a kohong’s wings. It looked dried and long as a dog’s face. His eyes were shut tight, but his mouth was slightly opened. Then Nanna called Pa. He came and stood near the ricebox.
    â€œYou have to touch de chile forehead,” the priest said.
    Pa bent down, touched Rama’s forehead and moved away. “Now he modder have to touch he forehead,” the Pandit declared.
    â€œBut he modder drunk!”
    â€œBut she still have to touch he forehead,” Nanny said.
    Pulbassia and Jasso went into the kitchen to get Ma. She was still asleep. They shook her. She was too drunk. Grabbing her hands, they leaned her against the wall. She sat there