New life

Blues night

Zenga Longmore

Whenever there is a knock on the front door, Omalara launches into what has become her 'door ritual'. She will spin around three times like a whirling dervish of the Orient, and chant `Kuyah Kuyah!' `Kuyah' in Omalarese stands for Kuba, her favourite cousin, whom she evidently ex- pects to see. This day, however, the visitor turned out to be Clawhammer Jones Bingo, bush-tea vendor of Brixton market.

But what a difference from the scraggy, casually dressed Claw we had known for so long! To our amazement, he grinned sheepishly from between the enormous padded shoulders of an evening dress suit, a red bow tie clipped lopsidedly beneath his chin.

`Chaff! Why you dress so fine-fine-O?' Olumba enquired, 'You getting married?'

`Listen, friends, I been married from mawnin'. You will know my wife, Laverne. Over Christmas, we reconciliate, an' she say she'll stay with me if I get a proper job. This is it. These my working clothes dem. I just drop by to say that as doorman an' bouncer of the Harlem Heaven Nite Spot I can get you in for nuttin' every night after nine. Your friend Shaka Boom Boom is DJ on Culture Reggae Night, an' he got me the job.'

`Oh, how's he getting on?' I asked.

`Well, right now he's at the police station. Is a long story . . .

Neatly nutshelled, the long story ran as follows. Shaka Boom Boom (real name Clive Barnes) has a shadowy partner Leroy, who has long suggested that the pair of them get together to buy a cheap terraced house on a heavy mortgage. This house would be used only for blues parties, featuring Shaka's well-known Black Cat Sound System and enormous collection of tapes and records. Each 'weekend rave' would make hundreds of pounds on gate money, food and drink. When the building society got nasty, Shaka and Leroy would abandon the house.

While mulling over this dubious proposi- tion, Shaka had to noticed a card in a newsagent's window: 'Furnished House to Let — £100 per week'. Quick as lightning he was over there, with his girlfriend Angela to provide a touch of respectabil- ity, and they made a down payment of rent to the landlord, Mr Chowdhury.

Soon Shaka had printed scores of invita- tion cards bearing his unusual rhyme:

Wicked sounds that raise the rafter Party now and headache after.

On the day of the 'blues', when Shaka was sweeping out the sparsely furnished house, there was a bang on the door. Answering it, he saw five menacing council-cum-bailiff types.

`Are you Mr Chowdhury?' one of them snapped. 'You are being served with an order of eviction from this council house, as from this inst, of now. Despite remin- ders, you have paid no rent for 11 years.'

`What's that lorry doing?' cried Shaka, noticing his partner driving up the huge Black Cat Sound System. 'He knows he's not allowed to park there.' So saying, he ran up to the lorry, jumped in the cab and told Leroy to drive like the blazes.

A few days later, in the street, he met one of the would-be party-goers, who shouted at him angrily, 'Over a hundred of us turned up for the blues, but there was no drink an' no music! All we got was some council bailiffs nosing around the place. When they see us they cried, "Riot! Revolution! Uprising! Police!" In the con- fusion, as we were leaving, someone tore my new silk jacket. . .

`Blast your new silk jacket!' cried Shaka with feeling, so the man punched him on the nose.

`That's why Shaka is at the police station now, laying a charge for assault on the man,' concluded Clawhammer. 'He say he cannot abide anything illegal.'