Horrible embarrassing moments that were still funny

Nov 08, 2015 Features / Columnists, Freddie Kissoon

How do people cope with embarrassing moments? Of course when you look back, you laugh because even though they may have been things you wished you never experienced, they were not of the kind that really traumatized you. I knew Marva Bancroft long before she married the then deputy Comptroller of Customs, Laurie Bankcroft. I knew Marva from my freshman days at UG. I got to know her husband when he joined the teaching staff at UG. When Marva died, I was attending the funeral of my friend and my friend’s wife
St. Sidwell’s Church was packed with hundreds of mourners. They had to put chairs in the aisle. I arrived late and sat on one such chair. All I knew was my head was spinning and I heard a loud crash. The sound reverberated in the acoustic ambience of the church and made the noise louder. The chair collapsed and there I was flat on the ground with hundreds of mourners looking down at me. It was a rainy day and as I walked out of the church, I skidded on the mud and fell. The famous Clem Duncan who I believe has the wittiest sense of humour of any human I ever met, said; “Freddie, like a spirit waan get yuh boy.” My wife cracked up with laugh. Seriously, Clem Duncan can make even the most lugubrious person laugh.
My daughter’s school, St. Agnes on Church Street, had their day of sports at the Guyana Football Club (GFC). My kid was about six years then. I didn’t own a car in those days so I took her to the ground in a taxi. It was a hot tropical morning identical to the ones Guyana is having these days. I wore white denim jeans with a jersey. I sat on the grass way at the back of the ground. The grass was bleached as if it had hundreds of gallons of Marvex thrown on it. I felt a cold feeling under my backside. I jumped up to find the entire backside of my trousers had taken on the colour of feces.
What happened is that the bleached grass was wet at that part of the ground so naturally one’s clothes when they come into contact with the soggy grass would leave a brown stain. This was one of the most horribly embarrassing moments in my life. My jersey was not long enough to cover that part of my trousers. Anyone looking at my jeans would think I defecated in my underwear. There was no way I was walking out of that ground in that condition. Sometimes Lady Luck is there for us.
History is always moved in invisible ways by Lady Luck. A parent had his bicycle nearby, away from the maddening crowd. I used it to ride away in front of all the parents, teachers and children without even one person knowing what happened to me. I didn’t live too far from the GFC (on Hadfield Street, Wortmanville next to the NIS). It is only now I will admit that I didn’t tell my little daughter I was leaving the ground. I wasn’t going far and I knew she was safe with a large group of kids with teachers’ supervision.
I remember Yesu Persaud invited me to his 80th birthday. Wild horses couldn’t have pulled me away from attending. Yesu Persaud will always be dear to me. My wife wore a special dress for the occasion. I donned a special necktie that I kept to cherish my memories of Father Andrew Morrison, editor of the Catholic Standard, who taught me the essentials of journalism. As we were about to drive off, my wife asked if I had the invitation. I didn’t; why would I need it? She said to get the invitation since for all the decades we knew Yesu, we didn’t know where in Republic Park he lived. I went back in the house, got the envelope and gave it to my wife. I drove off only to hear my wife yelling; “stop, stop!” The birthday was the next Saturday. I got the dates mixed up. My wife was livid.
I had just arrived in Grenada (in 1983) to take up a government appointed and barely got into my hotel room when I was told that Harry Belafonte’s wife wanted to see me urgently. She sent a taxi. Why me? I didn’t know her at all. When I met her at her hotel, she was with Jacqueline Creft, Minister of Education and Culture and the wife of American professor of international law, Richard Falk. Minister Creft confused me with the Trinidadian playwright, Freddie Kissoon. The meeting ended right there.

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Horrible embarrassing moments that were still funny

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