Hi,
This is aimed at people who are not exposed to Jamaican patois. I want to know if you understand Craig's dialogue. I think it's self explanatory but I hear this 3 hours a day at least so I'm fluent
It's an extract where five friends are drinking and smoking on the patio terrace of a well-appointed house:
Willie (POV) = white
Kate = mixed race (Guyana & UK)
Neil = white (Kate's husband)
Craig = Jamaican (friend) drifts in and out of patois
Jose = Brazilian (friend)
Thanks
pH
He rubbed the small patch on his head where he’d felt the water and followed Kate down to the patio table.
Jose still had that not-awestruck look splashed across his face as he turned in slow circles next to the pond.
‘Is he stoned or…?’ Neil whispered to Craig, who shrugged.
‘Dunno, mi nevah see ‘im suh,’
‘Kate?! Translation, please!’ Neil said.
She’d recovered some of her composure; she wrinkled her pretty nose and sniffed. ‘I’m not even half-Jamaican.’ This was aimed at Craig, not her husband.
Craig took it in good spirits, ‘Aii, you not easy, likkle gyal, you not easy at haaall.’
They all laughed apart from Jose who was still turning, inhaling the grounds.
‘Seriously, bro, what’s up with the circling?’ Craig said, slipping out of his patois. Then he noticed Kate’s smile and added, ‘Di white people dem taak.’
Kate, who had taken a seat very close to Neil stood up and launched a slap at Craig across the table. ‘I’m not white, either!’
‘Mi knoooo!’ Craig yelled, rubbing his arm, where Kate’s slap had landed. ‘Come on, Jose, siddung, nuh; the whites and mixity picking pon mi!’
Kate and Craig exchanged a grin when Willie said, ‘I don’t believe I’ve made any comment on either the Brazilian or the Jamaican.’ He threw himself back in his seat and added, ‘Or the half-Guyanese chick!’
Kate’s mouth dropped in horror; ‘ “Chick”? You're lucky you're too far to slap.’
Willie stuck out his tongue.
So that was it. The equilibrium of the day had returned and with it came a languid slip into a Lowe summer afternoon. There was something about summers down in Lowe that struck Willie as slightly magical as if the gradations of reality had slipped a degree to one side somehow. Time was different, even the sun’s unshakeable arc across the sky meandered unpredictably, and a comfortable bubble enclosed the friends at Riffy Grange.
This is aimed at people who are not exposed to Jamaican patois. I want to know if you understand Craig's dialogue. I think it's self explanatory but I hear this 3 hours a day at least so I'm fluent
It's an extract where five friends are drinking and smoking on the patio terrace of a well-appointed house:
Willie (POV) = white
Kate = mixed race (Guyana & UK)
Neil = white (Kate's husband)
Craig = Jamaican (friend) drifts in and out of patois
Jose = Brazilian (friend)
Thanks
pH
He rubbed the small patch on his head where he’d felt the water and followed Kate down to the patio table.
Jose still had that not-awestruck look splashed across his face as he turned in slow circles next to the pond.
‘Is he stoned or…?’ Neil whispered to Craig, who shrugged.
‘Dunno, mi nevah see ‘im suh,’
‘Kate?! Translation, please!’ Neil said.
She’d recovered some of her composure; she wrinkled her pretty nose and sniffed. ‘I’m not even half-Jamaican.’ This was aimed at Craig, not her husband.
Craig took it in good spirits, ‘Aii, you not easy, likkle gyal, you not easy at haaall.’
They all laughed apart from Jose who was still turning, inhaling the grounds.
‘Seriously, bro, what’s up with the circling?’ Craig said, slipping out of his patois. Then he noticed Kate’s smile and added, ‘Di white people dem taak.’
Kate, who had taken a seat very close to Neil stood up and launched a slap at Craig across the table. ‘I’m not white, either!’
‘Mi knoooo!’ Craig yelled, rubbing his arm, where Kate’s slap had landed. ‘Come on, Jose, siddung, nuh; the whites and mixity picking pon mi!’
Kate and Craig exchanged a grin when Willie said, ‘I don’t believe I’ve made any comment on either the Brazilian or the Jamaican.’ He threw himself back in his seat and added, ‘Or the half-Guyanese chick!’
Kate’s mouth dropped in horror; ‘ “Chick”? You're lucky you're too far to slap.’
Willie stuck out his tongue.
So that was it. The equilibrium of the day had returned and with it came a languid slip into a Lowe summer afternoon. There was something about summers down in Lowe that struck Willie as slightly magical as if the gradations of reality had slipped a degree to one side somehow. Time was different, even the sun’s unshakeable arc across the sky meandered unpredictably, and a comfortable bubble enclosed the friends at Riffy Grange.