SCRILLA

FOR THE LOVE OF SCRILLA

Chapter 3:

For the Love of Scrilla

The Island Breeze Jamaican restaurant was Savannah's premiere hood spot for down home Jamaican cuisine. The restaurant was frequented by patrons from all walks of life. Louis and Bernice Jones opened the restaurant as soon as they had immigrated to the United States from their native Kingston, Jamaica. They left their beloved Kingston, Jamaica in order to escape the abject poverty and brutal violence that plagued the third world country's capital city.

Over time, the dynamic duo became affectionately known as Papa Lou and Mama Bee for their generous support of the downtrodden community. The restaurant was referred to as 'The Breeze.' If an outsider came into the community asking for directions, all signs pointed to The Breeze as a point of reference. The Jones' were well respected by everyone who frequented the community icon. The oxtail soup was a popular menu favorite and Papa Lou could neither cook enough nor cook it fast enough. Once people had learned of their charitable community donations and their success after coming to the United States, they looked up to them as an inspiration and gave new meaning to 'keeping up with the Joneses.' The interior and exterior of the restaurant showed both civic and native pride. The exterior was painted a bright blue then adorned with a three ¬sided mural of Jamaica's land and its cultural heritage.

The inside was just as impressive. Framed pictures of Bob Marley, Marcus Garvey, and The Majestic Emperor Haile Selassie adorned the walls in the restaurant. Tastefully decorated in Jamaica's national colors of red, gold, green, and black, the decor was as popular as the oxtail soup.

Imani glanced over at the clock while she tallied up the restaurant's daily sales. It was a quarter past nine and she knew that she needed to leave the establishment as soon as possible. As much as the community loved and respected her family, she knew there was always a predator on the prowl in the concrete jungle. The restaurant had been burglarized a few times over the years and was not immune to small town stickup kids looking to score a quick and easy lick. With Ox on standby, her worries quickly diminished. When the count was over, Imani recorded the amount on the restaurant's ledger and sauntered to the hidden safe to lock away the money. She would deposit the money the following morning. The restaurant had earned more than seventeen hundred dollars.

Not bad considering the crappy weather today, she thought to herself as she placed the bank deposit bag inside the safe.

The melodious sounds of Bob Marley's One Love blared through the restaurant's sound system. "Imani! Ox yelled. "Woman, turn that music down, man. I can't hear my self think. You are going to be deaf before your time!" Ox admonished Imani in his heavy Jamaican accent, hopelessly competing with the loud, blaring music. Like all the other times when Imani was absorbed into her own little world, Ox's words fell on deaf ears.

Imani continued to wipe down the tables and sway her hips. She was oblivious to the outside world as she grooved to the classic reggae sound. Mumbling in his native patois, Ox walked over and unplugged the sound system. As Imani stood holding her hands in the air with a bewildered look on her face, Ox was laughing and holding the end of the chord.

"You'd better stop playing, Ox," warned Imani wiping down the last of the tables in the restaurant. "I'll fight you about my Bob Marley, mon"

"Okay, okay. Anything for you, Imani," Ox replied as he bent down to plug the stereo system back in. Music once again filled the air. Ox reached over and turned the volume down low. "Imani, like me was trying to tell you. I'm fixing to take out the trash, and then we can close up the place. You hear me now?" Ox stressed.