"This morning teacher told us to write a composition about our father," I told Mama.

"I hope you wrote good things," Mama replied. She is aware of how brutally honest I can be.

"Yes Mama. I wrote that my father is tall, dark and handsome."

"But that's not true, Betty."

"No, but it's something good though. I'm just pulling your legs, Mama. Here's what I wrote."

Black, strong and muscular are words that describe my father. Rough, serious and stern are other adjectives that spring to mind.

"Don't save the rod and spoil the child," are words we hear from him each day.

"What don't kill, fatten," he loves to say when we marvel at his big appetite.

"When I talk, no dog bark," is another of Papa's favourite expression.

I don't like him very much, because he is too strict. To be fair and frank, I can't form the fool with Papa.

But do you know what I like best about my father? He is the best storyteller in the whole wide world. He can tell the same story over and over and each time I feel as if I am hearing a new story. Papa is not easy at all!

Papa has just come inside to drink some water. He eyes us suspiciously, but I put away my little composition.

"Papa, tell us a story," we beg.

He pretends that he doesn't want to tell any, but he loves to tell them.

"Nuh yesterday mi tell unnu story? How unnu so bodderation?"

"Cho Papa, tell us bout the little hopping man!"

"No, tell us bout the three thief!"

"Tell us bout ..."

"All right! All right! Si one here," says Papa.

We all sit around him to listen.

Once there was a little old woman. She live in a little house with a little boy that shi tek. The little boy name John. John bad, him bad, him bad like yaws! The more the little old woman beat him is the worse him get. One day she sen him to the shop.

"John, run go a shop go buy some salt fi mi. The pot pon the fire already. Hurry up an come back."

John tek the money and run towards the shop, but as him bend the corner him stop fi play marble with Teddy dem, and forget everything bout the salt.

Meanwhile, the old lady wait out har patience, but not a sign a John. The more she wait, the vexer she get. The food mash up in di pot, but not a sign a John. By now the old woman decide to beat the holy hell outa him when him come back.

At last John come back without the salt and tell har seh the money lost.

Ah who tell him fi go seh so? The old woman grab him and beat him so till! The louder him cry a di more she beat him. When she finally stop rain blow pon John, she realise that she kill him.

She start panic, po' t'ing. She never know what fi do. She build a helluva fire and throw John body pon it. So John body burn, a so she put on more fire wood. After she burn him and get rid a di evidence, she start walk and ask people if dem see John.

"Anybody see John? Mi sen him go a shop an him doan come back."

"Nuh worry yuself Granny, him soon come back. A so boy pickney tan. When yuh sen dem out, dem go everywhere except where yu sen dem. When him get hungry him will come home."

But each day the little old woman continue to search fi John. Everybody wondering how John vanish into thin air. But they encourage the little old woman to keep heart.

Then on the third day John duppy raise up and start jook the old woman. Nuh matter what she do him wouldn't stop jook her.

"Cho John! A wa yuh deh badda mi fa John?"

Yu should see Papa when he is telling this part! Papa is gesticulating and going on as if he is the person whom John's duppy is tormenting! We are all dying with laughter. Papa is dancing about and holding his side and even Mama has joined in the laughter.

"Cho John! A weh yuh deh badda mi fa John? Mi sen yu go a shop. Yuh no come wid di salt. Mi get vex and beat yuh. Mi neva mean fi kill yuh. Cho John!"

John duppy nuh stop jook har till people hear what she saying an report it to police.

They arrest the little old woman fi kill John. Later dem sen har to mad house, because she turn fool. But if it wasn't fi John duppy she woulda get weh scot-free.

Papa has exerted so much energy in relating this story that he is glistening with perspiration. While he uses his shirt tail to wipe the sweat from his face we beg him for another story.

"Tell us another one!" we chorus.

"Tomorrow a will tell yuh another one."

I can't wait to hear another of Papa's stories. I want to see him dance about and gesticulate.

Tomorrow he will tell us a new version of one we have already heard. He will change it up to make it sound brand new. No one tells stories like Papa.

Papa is not easy at all!

Ah Sah!

'Then on the third day John duppy raise up and start jook the old woman. Nuh matter what she do him wouldn't stop jook her.'