He had overslept. He had no place to go but up to the roof and free his birds. An hour earlier he would have slipped downstairs and eaten his cereal unnoticed. As it was, he could hear Shakira telling about the comedies and splendor of carnival to Truman in an excited patois. Thulani himself no longer spoke patois, thanks to a prekindergarten teacher, a strict Jamaican woman, who advised his mother to speak only proper English, if he was to succeed in school. This start-and-stop talking of trying to speak proper English confused him. He would raise his hand in class and speak only to have his tongue cut off each and every time. It was easier to be quiet. To enter the kitchen, Thulani stepped over Truman’s legs, which were extended outward, a deliberate obstacle. Stepping over Truman was a “little brother” toll he paid, since Truman clearly would not move. Offering them both a morning greeting was yet another toll. They reminded him at every opportunity, We are your elders, not your equals.
What do You think about Every Time A Rainbow Dies?
