A Genie in a Jamby Oonah V. Joslin | |
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Chapter 12: Jam & Jerky | |
‘Grrreeetttings, DJ,’ said Geoffrey.
‘Humph. What is it today?’ asked DJ.
‘Well “hello” and “thank you” cost nothing!’
‘Good morning, then.’
‘Get out of bed on the wrong side did we? Or was it just the wrong bed?’
DJ wished he’d never told Geoffrey about Sakura now. It was no laughing matter. He’d only visited her a few times and each time he came away more smitten than ever. DJ bundled up the clothes that had been laid out for him and retreated behind the screen.
‘Oh, I see. Things aren’t working out with the little girlfriend, then?’
‘She’s just a friend...’
‘Whatever you say...’ Geoffrey went about tidying some papers on his desk.
‘She has to have other friends too, you know.’
‘So, that’s what eating you? She’s got herself a new fella has she?’
‘Mango Jam? Isn’t that a chutney?’ said DJ.
Geoffrey shook his head. ‘It’s jam — one of the new exotics range. So she cancelled your date, eh?’
‘We didn’t have a date. I just called round unexpectedly.’
‘And he was there. Did she introduce the two of you?’ Geoffrey pretended to be busy but since the dressing room was as tidy as always, he had little to do but smooth some of the swatches hanging on the carrousel, which looked increasingly like an over-dressed clown.
‘No, I made my excuses and left.’
‘Then how do you know he was a boyfriend? He could have been... a plumber.’
‘A plumber doesn’t sit on the sofa. What colour do you call this tee-shirt? And he was Japanese too.’
‘Mmm, I see...’ Geoffrey decided that it was perhaps best to drop the subject and get DJ’s mind off Sakura before he went on his assignment. ‘It’s mango, same as the jam.’
‘Looks apricot to me.’
No, this is definitely mango. I went to particular trouble to choose the shade; it’s more like amber, see? There, now... you’ll know all about amber, being an expert on precious stones.’
‘Amber isn’t a stone — it’s fossilized resin from a pine forest.’ DJ sighed and wondered what was taught to humans at school if they didn’t even know the basic difference between organic and inorganic matter. ‘And amber comes in more than one colour.’
‘I hear Mango is becoming quite popular as a jam. Lots of companies make it nowadays.’ Geoffrey sat down at the computer and began to look through some designs. ‘It fills a gap in the Caribbean market and people have developed more sophisticated tastes. You have to move with the times.’
DJ came from behind the screen, bright in mango, but as lamentable a spectacle as Geoffrey had ever seen.
He swung his chair round. ‘You should just tell her how you feel. You may be in the business of granting wishes, Deej, but there are some dreams we have to make come true for ourselves.’
DJ nodded. Somehow that didn’t help.
* * *
There was a smell in the air, hot and spicy, as well as fresh mangoes at DJ’s next appearance, and this time it had nothing to do with his thermo-olfactory enhancement skills. This was a real smell. It tingled his nose.
The kitchen in which he’d materialized had a high ceiling with a picture rail all the way round, and above it was painted white. A large wooden table occupied one end of the room. It was scrubbed and clean.
A huge sunflower stood as a centerpiece in a tall green vase. The walls were painted a glossy yellow and the floor was of reddish tiles and partially covered by a stripy multi-coloured mat made from strips of material all sewn onto a backing. Sunlight was dancing through foliage outside the large window and playing cool leaf patterns on the walls.
DJ thought it was the happiest looking place he’d ever been in; as if the sunshine always came there to play.
An elderly lady was standing by the stove in her kitchen, stirring some mango jam into a pot she had bubbling away. She had hair the colour of steel wool; her face was lined but in a way that showed she'd lived a satisfying life, and she was humming low to herself — some lullaby made audible because of the superb acoustics provided by the height of the room.
In her youth she must have had a tremendous soprano voice and now, though shaky, it was still high and clear. DJ didn’t want to startle her unduly so he cleared his throat before announcing his presence.
‘Greetings,’ he said without a hint of a trill.
‘Dat int de way you says it on TeeVee. You no evil spirit nah, boy? A look-alike or some ting?’
‘Evil? No. I’m DJ — The Genie of the Jam.’
‘Well den, do it proper! Howdy an’ tenk ye no broke no square. Me Cyril, him do d-jayin’ sometime an’ he say you got to give de punter what him want, al-ways!’ She dropped a lick of sauce onto her palm, tasted it, and added a bit more jam to the pot.
‘No, you misunderstand... I grant wishes.’
‘Me know what is you do, Mister. Dat must be one hell of a job! Wanti, wanti can’t get it, and geti, geti don’t want it, I’ll be bound!’
‘How’d you know that? That’s just what it’s like.’
‘Eyelash oldar than beard, son,’ she said nodding. ‘An’ which one you be? Wanti or geti?’
DJ just stood dumfounded. He’d never thought about that, but he knew exactly.
‘Why you no sit an’ tell Mama Winston all aboot it. You like chicken jerky?’
DJ said he’d never tasted it.
‘Me special ingredient.’ She winked and sloshed some Jamaican rum into the stew. ‘You one o’ them fiery spirits ain’t dat true? Jerky hot! Try it.’
So DJ found himself sitting at the big wooden table eating the best human food he’d ever tasted — full of chilies and thyme, aromatic and pleasantly hot.
‘So, what rang with you? You got girl troubles?’
‘Not troubles exactly,’ said DJ. ‘Sakura, well she’s... and I’m... and even if I wasn’t I’m sure she’d prefer someone more... It’s just impossible, that’s all.’ He hung his head.
‘Dat all? Listen, ain’t no ting impossible! Me say her very lucky young woman. Look at you’self wid you fine beard an’ costume an’ handsum like you is.’
‘Do you really think I have a chance? Are you sure?’
‘Sure I’m sure! Don’t diss you’self, boy. But you gotta let her know how you feel. You can’t sow corn an’ reap peas...’
DJ didn’t want peas or corn. He wanted the impossible. Nonetheless, it might be an idea to visit Sakura more frequently, and perhaps some little gift might show her how he felt. He knew just the thing, but it would be difficult and dangerous to get hold of.
‘You know, Mama Winston, I’m really very grateful to you for your advice and this lovely jerky. Is there a wish I can grant for you?’
‘Me want no ting more than to die restful in me home in Kingston — when di time come. An' a hope it be a while yet. But dat maybe beyond you an’ up to de Good Lard.’
‘If it is at all possible, Mama, I’ll see to it.’
‘That di right of it, Pitney. If it at all possible... We all here to do what we can. One hand wash de other, you know? Now off you go an’ see you’ girl and asks her to be you’ sweetheart. An’ if she say yes, you remember to invite Mama Winston to de wedding.’
After that encounter DJ adopted a saying of his own. Whenever anybody did anybody else a good turn, he’d say they were ‘sweet like Mango Jam’.
* * *
‘Hello, Sakura...? DJ... Yes... I wondered if I could come by tonight, if you’re not too busy. I know... sorry I had to rush away... Meet your brother? Why, yes, I’d love to!’
Copyright © 2010 by Oonah V. Joslin
