BARE SWEET FLESH
Faber & FaberMarch 2020Selected by Jeremy Poynting
Betty Ramdin, her son Solo and their lodger, maths teacher Mr Chetan, form a household like no other, but there are unknowns about themselves and their pasts that will cast the joyous camaraderie of this episode in doubt. Told in each of their voices, this novel of contemporary Trinidad is, as Marlon James describes it, “An unforgettable symphony of love and loss, heartache and guilt, and secrets and lies that pull us together, and tear us apart. Dazzlingly told in the most electrifying prose you will read all year.” — Jeremy Poynting
In my favourite iron pot, I fried a chopped onion, two-three cloves of minced garlic, and two tablespoons each of powder, turmeric, geera and garam masala. I also threw in a handful of curry leaves, a nice hot pepper and two pimento peppers sliced up thin thin. Once that began sticking I poured enough water to mix everything. I love that moment when the water hits the pot. It does be like a curry bomb exploding. I wouldn’t be surprised if the neighbour’s house is smelling of curry, too.
Now for the cascadoux. My ma called this “chunkaying” the fish – mixing so it’s covered with the curry. I must teach Solo that word or my generation will be the last to known. Fish is a thing that does cook now for now so I watched the pot carefully. Eight minutes later I poured a can of coconut milk and threw in some fresh, boiled pigeon peas. The spicy aroma must have been why Mr Chetan reached back in my way.
I tired tell you to stay out the kitchen when I’m doing
my thing.
Lord, woman. You’re making a man hungry.
He lifted the lid slightly and inhaled.
Where’d you find cascadoux?
I have my ways. You like it?
I’m embarrassed to admit this. I’ve never had cascadoux.
No way. Well, today self we’re fixing that.
He dipped a teaspoon into the sauce. From the smack of his I knew it real lash.
We sat down to eat, the three of us, and as I thought, Solo took one look at the fish and said he wasn’t touching it. Could he get a ham and cheese sandwich? I showed him how, starting from the head, you slide your fork under the scales and they peel off easy easy. Underneath is bare sweet flesh. My child said the fish head was frightening to look at. Mr Chetan promptly broke them off and put them on his plate.
Mummy, this is real hard labour for a little flesh.
Yes, but that little piece of fish sweeter than all the rest of fish put together. Carite, kingfish, red snapper, barracuda. Not one of them can touch cascadoux for taste. And Solo, this is a special fish. They say if you eat it you will never leave Trinidad. Even if you leave you will always return to die.
Whatever. Give me a good stew chicken over this ugly thing any day. Cook chicken tomorrow nah.
You’re trying my patience. Eat what I put in front of you and stop asking about what cooking tomorrow. You see me? Come tomorrow I mightn’t even feel like lighting the stove.
Mr Chetan leaned across to Solo.
Don’t worry, boy. I will cook chicken for you. But try with the cascadoux. Your mammy went to a lot of trouble to get that fish and cook it for us.
I gave Mr Chetan a cut eye.
Go on. Spoil the child. Monkey know which tree to climb.
Solo continued to pick pick at the fish but honestly I wasn’t paying him much mind. Food like this had to eat without obstructions like knife and fork. Once I cleared the flesh I went down on the fish bones and sucked them dry. And the fish head? Sucked that too.
Mammy, you could leave a little. If we had a dog the poor thing would starve.
We don’t have a dog and you’re not getting one because is me will end up minding it.
Solo nudged Mr Chetan.
You’re not worried a fish bone will stick in your throat?
He grinned but couldn’t reply because he was busy with a fish head. From his grin you could see this curry was boss. Curry was trickling down his forearm. It’s only after I had wiped the drips with my own fingers and sucked them did I realise what I had done. ◉
The legend of the cascadoux, also known as the cascadura, is the subject of Samuel Selvon’s 1957 short story “Johnson and the Cascadura”, in which an Englishman falls in love with a Trinidadian woman who cooks him the fish to ensure his return.
“Monkey know which tree to climb” is one of several simian-themed Caribbean proverbs. Others include “The higher a monkey climbs, the more he shows his tail” and, “Hungry men monkey blow fire”.