Fishy story at Wales

TIMES INT'L

Satiricus was bemused at some latest news coming out of Wales, the sugar estate that had been closed so abruptly by the Government. His buddy Bungi had a vested interest in those goings-on, since he’d worked all his life in the industry. Satiricus figured ruefully that, for Bungi, he had seen the future, and it was Wales. Maybe he’d be able to clear up the news during their Back Street Bar gyaaf.
“What’s really going on at Wales, Bungi?” Satiricus asked as soon as he’d clinked his first beer with the fellas.
“Wha’ yuh mean?” replied Bungi. “Dem bais a play card nowadays, and some a dem gyaal a ketch fare fuh min’ dem pickney.”
“Jeez!” exclaimed Satiricus. “I didn’t think it was that bad already. But I mean about whether they’re planting rice or rearing fish.”
“Yeah!” butted in Hari, as Bungi finished off his beer and signalled for another. “Or whether your friends will get land to farm?”
“Ah who hut a’yuh head?” Bungi wanted to know. “Yuh mus’ pick sense fram nansense. Me daady always tell me, ‘If oil ah float, watah deh ah battam!”
“Bungi, what the arse you mean?” asked Satiricus. “Don’t give us your parables!”
“Budday, a lil evidence can tell yuh de trut’!!” smiled Bungi. “Ah who tell a’yuh ‘bout fish a Wales?”
“That Veer Ra fella,” reported Satiricus, as Hari nodded. “Da wha me mean!” said Bungi. “Da wan maan who bin own wan whole suga’ estate. How come ‘e na grow fish?”
“Well, he said the rice they planting,” said Hari, “is to feed the fish.”
“Hari, me fr’en’, nah tek yuh mattie eye fuh see wha in front a yuh,” advised Bungi. “Specially if yuh mattie name Veer Ra!”
“You mean, donkey ears long, but he doan hear he own story, right Bungi?” grinned Satiricus. “Veer Ra failed in everything, so we mustn’t listen to him?”
“Let’s drink to that!” grinned Bungi.

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