By Tony Deyal
A few days ago I was within a hair’s breadth of getting the police after me when a politician named Scotland, who calls himself “an Afro-Trinidadian of parliament with natural hair”, was sworn in as minister in the ministry of national security. One of my friends, Thomas, called me and showed me the newspaper article about the new minister. “Look hair Tony,” he said. I thought he had said “hear” and not “hair.”
“I don’t see anything wrong with that,” I responded: “Our first prime minister, Dr Eric Williams, had a hearing aid and used to shut it off when the opposition was speaking in parliament.” My friend corrected me with: “This is real long, kinky hair or what Jamaicans call a Marley Braid with ‘faux locs’ and ‘krinklepuff’.”
At this point, I stopped him: “Tom, whether it is Marley, Shenseea, Koffee or Spice, that is not my business and should not be his. And even if his hair gets in his way and ours, in politics it is always hair, or hear, today, and gone tomorrow.” Thomas had the last word, “Not if the present leader of the opposition is still in charge when election comes. The prime minister of Scotland will make her bawl, and bald, like ten Tarzan.”
It is like when my Grandmother (Mama) died and it was just my Mom, aunts and I sitting disconsolately after the funeral. My Auntie Shirley, who called herself a “hair stylist”, told me, “Let me curly your hair!” My mother and other aunts joined her, “Yes, Tony. Make us feel better. Your Granma would be happy. You know how much she liked you since you born.” Immediately I was almost in tears and I told my aunt, “Go ahead! Mama will like that.” I went back to my job as the person in charge of Television in the office of the prime minister. The hairstyle created more than a stir. Most people liked it. However, I left my job with the government and ended in Caroni Ltd., the sugar-cane company. The big boss there was the Leader of the Opposition and head of the sugar workers, Basdeo Panday.
I had taken a short “lime” (holiday) in the US before taking up my new job. I met Panday on the flight returning to Trinidad and told him that I wanted to meet him so I would have a sense of what I could do to make things better for the company and the workers. He told me how glad he was that I was there to help his people, and he agreed to see me “anytime”. The next day, Panday, as leader of the opposition, and his members, went after me in parliament.
There are about 32 pages still in the archives about me, my hairstyle, and my being involved in the “government” party. This was not all. Panday and his people threatened me to the extent that I had to demand a gun from the government minister at the time. But I eventually got my revenge. Panday’s wife bought a product which was the rage in Trinidad for hair dyeing. It was known as “TONY.” I called Panday and told him, “You don’t like me, but everybody knows your wife likes, uses and rubs up with TONY all the time.”
Using the real Tony for jokes, and what Trinis call “old talk”, was something I grew up with. The story about me, Mirtle and the cinema was one of those that my friends created. I call it a Grim Hairy Tale. In those days, when you were on the verge of getting really close with a young woman, you took her to the cinema. Instead of taking her to “pit” (down at ground level making noise and throwing bottles at the screen), or “house” (where the price was relatively low and you could still shout and applaud a bit), I paid big money for “balcony”, the most expensive place in the cinema where the purpose was generally misunderstood.
As soon as the lights went out, the men reached out and the action there was generally hotter and heavier than the one showing on the screen. The story was that I reached out with my hands to touch, tingle and even taste Mirtle.
However, she became more aghast than angry saying loudly, “Look here Tony! What you thing you’re doing? I tell you look here man!” In Trinidad “Look here” means “Watch it.” This is why my friends still laugh at my response to Miss Mirtle. I asked her, “Where? Where?” Now when my friends go after me with the story of me and Mirtle, I always cut in with, “So what you wanted me to do? Cut holes in my pockets?”
This reminds me of a joke one of my Barbadian friends shared with me. A retired man went into the Job Center in Oistins and saw a card advertising for a gynaecologist assistant. Interested, he went in and asked the clerk for details.
The clerk pulled up the file and read: “The job entails getting the ladies ready for the gynaecologist. You have to help the women out of their underwear, lay them down and carefully wash their private regions, then apply shaving foam and gently shave off the hair, then rub in soothing oils so they’re ready for the gynaecologist examination. The annual salary is $65,000, and if you are interested you’ll have to go to Pie Corner, St Lucy.” “Good grief,” the man asked, “Is that where the job is?” “No sir … that’s where the end of the line is right now.”
It is like what my own response will be when my friends start on me next Saturday, August 10, 2024. It will be my 79th birthday and I still remember how they behaved on my 69th. The number 69 is slang for “when two partners arrange their bodies to perform oral sex on one another at the same time in a way said to look like the number 69.”
My favourite calypsonian, the Mighty Sparrow, sang “Meh Number Is 69”. The chorus includes, “… But if you want really good performance, and you really want to enjoy this romance, you got to make up your mind, she said, meh number is 69.”
But I’m ready and waiting for my friends when they come after me next week. From the time they start on “Tony and 79”, I will reply, “No problem for me. It will be me, my lady and ten people watching!”
*Tony Deyal was last seen laughing about “Haircut while you wait”. He used to think it couldn’t be otherwise. Then the singer, Dolly Parton, said, “People ask me how long it takes to do my hair. I don’t know. I’m never there.”
