Tribute?

Satiricus was a bit riled up. He was also quite confused.
He’d been following the debate on the siting 1823 Monument quite closely. His forbears were originally from East Coast Demerara and he still had quite a few relatives there. Why shouldn’t the government listen to the representatives of the African organisations? But then again, while he wasn’t of African descent, he was also quite proud that “East Coast” people had stood up and fought against overwhelming odds. A question for the brain trust.
“Budday, nah because yuh a East Coast man, yuh gat de right fuh wan opinion pan some things,” smiled Cappo.
“All cassava get same skin but all nah taste same way.”
“What yuh mean?’ snapped Satiricus uncharacteristically. “What happen to One Nation; One people; One Destiny?”
“Sato my friend, all awee got one destiny – six feet into the ground,” interjected Hari. “But don’t forget that even the fingers on our hands are all different.”
“What arseishness you talking about?” said Suresh.
“So you consult each finger before you pick your nose?” “C’mon, you know what Sato mean,” pleaded Kuldeep.
“We all Guyanese. You remember how the Cultural Centre build?” “Nah! What that has to do with what Sato talking about?” Mukesh wanted to know. “Don’t change the subject.”
“Nah! It’s the same subject,” promised Kuldeep.
“Burnham build the Cultural Centre with money left back from the fund to send back Indian people to India. He said the money belong to everybody. None of this Indian and African thing!”
“OK fellas, I get what you saying,” said Satiricus, “But what about what the people saying: to put the monument at the Parade Grounds.”
“Well lemme ask yuh something,” said Cappo confidentially, as he reach forward with his elbows on the table. Satiricus lifted his eyebrows, expectantly.
“If abee fuh build a monument fuh you, whey yuh gon want am?” continued Cappo. “Whey yuh hit de winning runs in third form or whe de headmaster bench yuh and give you six on yuh backside?” Everyone chuckled at the last part. Satiricus had cried in humiliation: the girls were looking.
“The cricket field,” Satiricus confessed. “That game was the best memory of my schooldays.” “Well, Sato me old friend,” said Cappo. “De answer on the monument clear: De slaves best days bin when deh rebel, nah when dem get hang.”
“Hear! Hear!” the gang around the table said in unison.
Bottles clinked and long swigs of beer were taken.
“Cappo my friend,” said Teacher Samad at last. “All the argument is politics. Even if the government had built the monument at Parade Grounds, that set would have found something or other to object to.”
“Yeah! Like maybe the need to put a fence around the monument might curtail freedom!” laughed Hari, “Never mind they suffered the ultimate loss of freedom.”
“I can see that these people will cut their nose to spite their face,” laughed Satiricus. “They are not real East Coast people!”