Cecile Jarrett, Contributor

Akeel and Akeen were twins. They had just celebrated their sixth birthday - separately. Akeel was tall and skinny for his age. He had strong, long legs that helped to get him a place on the school's track team. Akeel outran all his friends and competitors and collected first prize every sports day.

"Akeel, how come your eyebrows so thick, man?" his friends would tease. Yes, Akeel's eyebrows were thick; as thick as the black hair on his. His bold, bright eyes sparkled under his thick brows and long lashes. He was handsome. His wide and willing smile added to his good looks and won him many admiring glances at school and in his district, River Bank.

Though friendly and well-loved by his grandmother, Mrs Sadie Saddler Suragh, and others, Akeel was unhappy. He had not seen his twin sister in four years. She left Jamaica with their mom when she was two years old. They have not visited since and he has never left Jamaica.

Whenever Akeel sat quietly in his comfort corner sucking his index and middle fingers and pulling on his right ear, Granny Sadie knew that he was thinking about his mother and twin sister. She would go to his corner, look at him and say in her softest, sweetest tone, "Tap pine aftah yuh modda and sister; come, come to mi." After coaxing him, she would put his head on her lap and rub it until he fell fast asleep. He slept for hours.

Knowing of his hunger pangs when he woke up, she would rush to the kitchen to prepare one of his favourite meals: stewed chicken with dumplings, steamed rice, shredded cabbage sprinkled with salt and fresh carrots that he drank from the SpongeBob cup his mother sent in the last barrel. She also got ready to spend the long after-sleep evening with him.

That's when they talked and laughed and played. They talked about vegetables and spices in Granny's kitchen garden. They talked about the teachers and children at big school, and also about his lessons and grades. During their cosy time, she would tap his forehead now and then and say, "You are a good boy, a good little boy - and special and I want you to stay that way, promise?" Akeel would then nod or smile in reply. He would take that comment as his time to spring a new riddle on Granny. "Why was six afraid of seven Granny?" "Cho bwoy," she would reply, "how yuh expect mi fi know dat? No pickney nevah brave enough to ask dem things in the basic school where I used to teach many years ago." He then smiled and whispered in her ear - "Because seven ate nine Granny; seven eight nine. Get it?" Carefree laughter, tight hugs and blow kisses followed each joke or riddle. And then came the recurring command, "Homework time Akeel; let's get it done correct and then we can continue to tell riddles and stories.

After homework, Granny would say: "Akeel, how about goin' to Port Antonio for some Kentucky Fried Chicken or Boston for jerk pork, weh yuh seh boss? "Granny, yuh know a don't eat ouside food. Nuh odda food but yours - breakfast, lunch, dinner, supper. Your food is de bestest. It mek mi run pass everybody - memba Granny? No outside food. Pity a have to eat lunch at school!"

They carried on like that until the dreaded question came. "What did happ'n to mi fahda again Granny?" "Well mi son, it happen in New York. A week afta him come out and married yuh modda, him get a call to return to New York urgently. Two days later him lef Jamaica from Norman Manley Airport. I had a bad feeling to si him lef so sudden - cutting him trip to him fambly in St James. What will be, will be and where yuh bound yuh must obey. Umph, umph. De next day wi get bad news that him caan fine; caan fine. Disappear just so; no trace of him since. All de search dem search; dem nevah fine him. No clue Akeel, no clue. Him jus drap off a de face of de earth. We tek it hard for him was a nice fella from a decent fambly in Spring Mountain in St James - way down de country. Him an yuh modda meet at Sam Sharpe College. Dem got along so well, dem was like two peas in a pod. Lawd have mercy pon him soul."

It was during this time one Tuesday evening that Granny's cellphone rang. "Halloo - who is dis, Western Union?" It was not Western Union. "This is Mrs Josetta Sharpe, Daniel Sharpe's mother, Akeel's other grandmother," said the strong voice at the other end of the call.

"Sorry that I didn't get to meet Daniel's twins. I was a twin too, remember? Lost my twin brother at birth. It's not always easy to travel all de way from London with dis wicked arthritis. De journey way too long. Anyway ah had was to come to Jamaica wid this news. My son Daniel, Akeel's father, is alive but in a coma. He had met in a serious accident when he returned from his wedding. His body rolled out of the car he was in and he got serious head injuries - hasn't said a word in six years. His documents burn up in the car when it exploded. When they found him near the scene the next day, dem tagged him John Doe 7. Him never identifiy until your daughter Elizabeth (bless har soul) find him in a nursing home for indigents. What a good ting she switch to nursing. Him just coming out a de coma. Him alive, Miss Sadie; thank God him breathing. Elizabeth and Akeen caan travel back now. A little paper work needed. But I come down to meet Akeel and you again. I will be in Portland this weekend. I am really anxious to see him and you too. I want to see him face when I give him the England things I bring for him."

"Thank yuh, thank yuh, thank God," Granny choked. Clearing her throat, she said, "Tek the phone Akeel and talk to yuh oddah grandmother. She have good news for you."

"Yuh sound so good over the phone. What a sweet voice yuh have; just like yuh father when him was your age. That's why him teck up teaching an singing yuh know, Akeel. Him had a good voice and everybody around loved it; lawd a miss him, long to hear his voice again."

"Yes ma'am," Akeel replied hesitatingly. "What should I call yuh please?" "Grandma Sharpe, yuh can call me Grandma Sharpe." "Yes Grandma Sharpie," he answered, smiling.

"Weekend, yeah! Weekend a will meet Granny Sharpie - weekend everybody!"

Akeel had the longest wait of his young life. He sometimes hid far away from Granny who hunted him with a long call, "Akeeeel, Akeeeel come an help round de house, de place mus clean up an look sharpe for Granny Sharpie's visit; come out a de hiding son, come to me. Come, help me fix up de place spic an span."

Granny Sharpe loathed the long, tortuous drive from St James to Portland so she took all the necessary steps to ride in comfort across the five parishes. She took her arthritis pills, her neck and back rests, bottles of drinking water, fried fish and bammies, ackee and cod fish and boiled cornmeal dumplings. She travelled in style in a chartered JUTA mini bus, owned and operated by her cousin-in-law, Joe Sharpe. They stacked it with clothes and food for Sadie and Akeel and anybody else who may have a need for a little something from England. She did not forget to pack Akeel's toys, nor the few extras she threw in. She wanted Sadie's family to enjoy her generosity and to remember her as a kind woman.

The vehicle pulled out just as day cloud started to cut. Granny Sharpe stepped out, inhaled the morning breeze through her nostrils and mouth. She fed on the pure and refreshing early morning air. "Let's go Joe," she ordered. He obeyed. The distant cousin-in-law and family friend was an honest, hard-working fellow whom people in Spring Mountain loved and respected, but feared. He, like Mrs Sharpe, was a stickler for time. And so they pulled out of her driveway at 4:30 a.m. that Friday just when Mrs Saddler, in Portland, was dreaming about singing a solo at her daughter's wedding to Daniel Sharpe.

Fifteen minutes into the journey, Mrs Sharpe asked Joe to turn back for her cellphone and charger. He didn't like to turn back once he started his journey. "Bad luck worse than obeah and it will follow you de ole way," he grumbled before starting to count down from seven to one and then reverse the bus. Mrs Sharpe got her phone and then settled back into the long ride.

The journey was long but pleasant and uneventful, except for once when a mongoose popped out of some bushes, looked down the road and then decided not to cross the road. It went right back from whence it came. Joe did not miss it. "A bad sign. A very bad omen; weh him do dat for?" "Don't be so superstitious, Joe," drawled Mrs Sharpe coming out of the little snooze she was in. "Sing Sly Mongoose with me. That will break the spell." Together they began after her count "one, two, three."

Sly Mongoose, yuh name gawn abroad

Sly Mongoose, yuh name gawn abroad

Mongoose goh eena Edwwith her eyesard kitchen

Teck out one a im fat, fat chicken

Put it eena im waistcoat pocket

Sly Mongoose

The bad spell now broken, Mrs Sharpe relaxed into the final leg of the journey. It ended in River Bank just shy of 10 a.m.

What a glorious meeting! Grandma and Granny, Grandma and Akeel, Grandma and some cousins; Joe and everybody in the yard. But it was Akeel's greatest day. His glad bag broke wide open and poured out yells, screams, hugs and kisses. Grandma Sharpe measured Akeel with her eyes. "Him foot long. Him instep high. Look pon him handsome face. Him have een plenty of the Indian blood dat yuh mix up with Sadie. Otherwise him is the dead stamp of him father - Daniel (lawd mi miss him). Him an him sister favour but fi har hair have more Indian in it like har mother, Elizabeth. Dem send mi plenty picture of har over de years. What a nice, strong boy "laddy yuh have a great future."

Everybody was excited and happy and delighted to meet and greet one another.

In the height of the excitement Miss Sadie's cellphone rang. "Hello, who is dis?" "Elizabeth, mamma. He opened his eyes, looked at me, mumbled a few words, squeezed Akeen's right hand and closed his eyes, forever. Him gawn mamma - gawn for good!"

"Here Mrs Sharpe," Granny said softly as she handed the phone to Akeel's other grandmother, "is Elizabeth, you need to talk to har."

One month later, on June 28, after much backing and forthing; toing and froing between England, Canada, America, distant Nigeria and Jamaica, Mrs Josetta Sharpe, wife of the late Samuel Zedekiah Sharpe, buried her only son - Daniel Samuel Sharpe, sixth generation descendant of Sam Sharpe.

Joe caught Akeel sucking his fingers in lonely corner and spoke sternly to him, "Tek dem outa yuh mout. Yuh a one a de laas Sharpe bwoy pickney lef. Yuh have a big job before yuh wid a name like Sharpe." Akeel moved his eyes slowly from Joe's feet to his big, serious face perched on his broad shoulders and said. "Yes sar, but yuh will have to teach me what to do."

See conclusion next Sunday