Tony Deyal | The good, the bad and the maybe

Many moons ago, I dared to go to a terrifying late-night show, The Horror of Dracula, at the country cinema in the dusty town of Siparia in South Trinidad. Originally an indigenous settlement believed to be named “place of sacred cacao” derived from “sipa” for cocoa and related to place or “ria”, “the “Sand City” is a diverse and culturally rich borough.

But, getting home that night when I was 13, alone and jumpy, left me scared, permanently scarred and still praying to the “Siparee Mai” or symbolic Mother of Siparia, associated with a revered, blackened wooden statue of La Divina Pastora, the Divine Shepherdess in the local Catholic Church where people from all faiths still converge every Easter to beg for healing, miracles and all good things.

One of the main tasks of life is to learn to take the good with the bad and in the balance of things, we hope, generally, that our goodness leads the way. The real issue is with those who act good in front and bad at your back. Then there are the maybes. An entertaining example is the 1966 hit film The Good, the Bad and the Ugly (1966), a classic spaghetti western known for its cynical humour, iconic Mexican standoffs, and three very different men hunting for buried Civil War gold. Entering the English language as an idiomatic expression, the phrase refers to upsides, downsides and the parts that could, or should have been done better but were not, according to one online tutorial.

TWO CHARACTERS

My two favourite characters from the movie are Tuco, the “Ugly”, a fast-talking, resourceful but comedic bandit, and Blondie, the “Good”, a taciturn bounty hunter and the primary protagonist known for his iconic poncho, hat and cigarette. Colourful, loud and volatile, the Mexican Tuco is wanted for a long list of crimes including robbery, murder and train derailing. Blondie is cold and professional. The mix of Tuco’s banter and Blondie’s sharp responses can be termed “Good, Bad and Ugly” and, from our perspective, “Maybe”.

Blondie baited Tuco. “You see, in this world there’s two kinds of people, my friend: Those with loaded guns and those who dig. You dig.” Subsequently, Tuco commented to a corpulent Corporal, “I like big fat men like you. When they fall, they make more noise. And sometimes they never get up.” Tuco, also observed, “There are two kinds of people in the world, my friend: Those with a rope under the neck, and the people who have the job of doing the cutting.” But many of the last words went to Blondie. The best is perhaps, “Two hundred thousand dollars (the missing treasure) is a lot of money. We’re gonna have to earn it.” Then, appearing beside Tuco, he queries “Were you gonna die alone?” adding, “The way I figure, there’s really not too much future with a sawed-off runt like you.”

MORE TROUBLE AND IN TROUBLE MORE

My dear mother must have worried that her lone beloved child didn’t seem to have much going and was not destined for any great success or earnings except as an outlaw, criminal or convict given some of the friends I hung out with, were more “Bad and Ugly” than “Good” and she obviously did not want me dying with them. I was often more trouble and in trouble more than she wished. Mom, just 15 years older than me and a Hindu child bride twice, struggling with an alcoholic and often absentee second husband, my father, was not beyond thumping me when she felt that I had stayed out too long or answered her way too quickly and smartly, such as when I forgot the time and played football in the “savannah” or playground late into the night, coming home dirty and unkempt. I realised in time that she was just trying to prevent me from declining into a “Maybe” delinquent.

I was a bit more than a runt myself when I saw this movie in Siparia. In those days, the bright, glossy posters proclaiming the latest shows would be pasted up on the electrical poles, the many faded shop fronts, and on any available doorway. With my friends, we would rush to see what the latest exciting release from the “theatre” was. Then about 21, I was already teaching in Iere High School, with an uncertain future and even less dollars - a strong, bespectacled lad - marked by my love of words, books and anything literary, Trinidad’s Carnival, a range of music especially calypso, and all sports but particularly cricket and football.

PASSION AND DREAMING

The boyhood passion for action films never faded, and while I have seen The Good, the Bad and the Ugly countless times, including with my younger son recently, the vivid advertisements of those 1960s Westerns and other classics such as The Horror of Dracula retain the power, like the movies, to take me and my imagination far away into another exciting world. There, boys and young men could dream of being the “Good” modelling our Siparia street corner stance on Clint Eastwood’s relaxed pose, while tackling another pretty girl; going for the ‘bad-boy’ feet apart position of Lee Van Cleef that was sure to impress, or drawing big imaginary guns, riding wishes for horses and being a comedian contorting our faces like the swearing, swaggering Tuco played by Eli Wallach. We would act out our fantasies to the iconic musical theme composed by the Italian great Ennio Morricone, in a melody unforgettable for its two-note whistling motif designed to mimic the howl of a coyote. Naturally, we imitated the distinctive “wah-wah-wah” vocalisation that was supposed to be Tuco, since each character was represented by a different instrument to reflect their personality.

Now months away from turning 81, I have written a weekly column for about 33 years, witnessing the decline of the print and traditional media against the short-attention onslaught of incessant, noisy, and sometimes toxic social media. Sending out my pieces to the Caribbean and beyond, whether through the Barbados Nation, The Gleaner or on my Facebook page, have not been easy through the decades, but I have tried to provide humorous commentary, laced with journalism, my much-loved puns and, of course, my many memories and stories. As in my life, I have tried, too, to follow the good path.

Sometimes the humour is tougher and harder. “What do you call a woman who always knows where her husband is? The widow.” This certainly proved true in my mother’s case. Or “How much money do you need to satisfy a woman? It is just always a little bit more.” “Maybe,” my wife counters, but queries, pointedly looking at me, “what about when he has none?” This year, I have been diligently exercising in the gym and watching what I eat and drink, unlike the Corporal, but I recently damaged my knee and now fear my wife will remember this one - “What’s the quickest way of losing unwanted excess fat? Divorce him.” Maybe.

Tony Deyal quotes from his favourite movie: “There are two kinds of spurs, my friend. Those that come in by the door; those that come in by the window.” He has done both. Tony Deyal and his wife, Indranie Deolall, a journalist worked on this piece. Send feedback to columns@gleanerjm.com