The new heroes

Satiricus is of the firm belief (following Newton, as he had learnt in high school) that we all stand on the shoulders of the giants of the previous generation.
It was therefore with some satisfaction that he heard the people of Buxton had erected a monument. Ah… Buxton!! Home of the freedmen (and women) who led the trek from the plantations to set up the villages and a life of dignity for them and their descendants. Satiricus’ eyes misted over: he was sure some noble souls were praising the ancestral spirits (with suitable libations, of course) at the ceremony.
Sniff, sniff. “Is wha de arse, yuh talking ‘bout, Sato,” exclaimed Cappo. “Is na you who tell me fuh read de ‘fine print’ before me talk?”
“And?” enquired Satiricuss with a raised eyebrow. “What I missed?”
“You miss the whole damn point, boy,” advised Hari. “You read is who they making the monument to?”
“Well, not really,” admitted Satiricus sheepishly. “But who else Buxton could be honouring around Emancipation time than the village founders?”
“Well budday, if oil ah float watah deh ah battam!” laughed Cappo. “Even if yuh na read de whole story, yuh shoulda know good na deh deh when yuh hear who bin deh!’
“ Yup!, You know when Gorbin, Grain Jah, David Blinds and Nogel Huge get together that mean is some lash they giving the government!” laughed Suresh.
Satiricus looked worried, so Kuldeep put his arm around his shoulder and said, “Sato, the monument was for all the bandits and suspected bandits the police killed when the “resistance fighters declared war against the government.”
“You shi** ing me!” exclaimed Satiricus. “You mean them fellas who call themselves the “Taliban” and killed more police in the whole history of Guyana?” His voice rose in incredulity and he was almost squeaking at the end.
“The one and same,” confirmed Teacher Samad. “The same ones who killed that little nine year old schoolgirl Christine Sukhra and that old man in a wheelchair mourning for his dead wife.”
“But is wha wrang wid dese people?” asked Bungi, in frustration. “Mekking a monument fuh dem who use to kill and none fuh dem who get kill?”
“Me old friend, yuh guh nevva learn?” asked Cappo of his canecutting partner. “Is na de people, is de leader dem. Deh only full people head wid stupidness!”
“But they will learn soon,” predicted Suresh, “Like you always say Cappo, ‘If yuh plant plantain yuh cyaan reap cassava.’”
“But you know something,” announced Satiricus with unusual heat. “I think it’s time we did something for all those hundreds of people who were gunned down between 1992 and now by the bandits who suddenly became resistance fighters.”
“Eh! Eh! Ah neva see yuh get so vex bai,” said Cappo.
“Suh wha yuh think abee should do?”
“Let’s start a petition to tell Pressie he should build a monument to all the victims,” suggested Satiricus. “And he should build it in the Tipperary Hall yard.”
And the gang all duly signed the petition drafted on the spot and sent it to the president.