1
Some mornings, Mama wakes JJ with a whisper instead of a call.
"Wake up, little prince," she whispers. "Today — we hunt the rainbow."
2
JJ sits straight up. "You can't catch a rainbow, Mama. Rainbows live in the sky."
"Sky rainbows, yes," says Mama, tying on her head-tie. "But in this family we don't just look at rainbows.
We eat them."
3
The rules of the rainbow hunt are simple, and Mama says them at the gate:
"One thing to eat of every colour. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple.
Miss one colour — and the rainbow has a hole in it."
4
Off they go, basket swinging between them, one handle for Mama and one handle for JJ.
Bruno walks them to the gate and sits, because the yard cannot guard itself.
Petal watches from the fence post, queen of all she sees, and does not offer to help. Cats never do.
5
The road to market smells like morning — woodsmoke and wet grass and somebody's cocoa tea.
A kiskadee flies ahead of them from post to post, shouting the news:
Kis-ka-dee! They coming! Kis-ka-dee! They coming!
6
And then — the market!
Stalls and baskets and bright umbrellas. Aunties calling good morning. Scales going clink. The whole morning piled up in heaps of colour.
"Eyes sharp, little prince," says Mama. "The rainbow is hiding in here somewhere."
7
RED comes first.
JJ spots it high on Auntie Doreen's stall — sorrel, red as a Saturday, red as a fire truck's best dream.
"One red!" shouts JJ.
"Sweetest sorrel in Berbice," says Auntie Doreen, and into the basket it goes.
8
ORANGE is easy — this is Guyana.
Mangoes! A whole hill of them, round and blushing.
JJ does the sniff test, the way Mama taught him: close your eyes, breathe in, and if you smell sunshine — that is your mango.
9
YELLOW is waiting two stalls down, wearing a crown.
"Pineapple," says Mama, "the welcome fruit. When you see a pineapple, somebody glad to see you."
"The pineapple is glad to see me," says JJ, and nobody can prove he is wrong.
10
GREEN — and JJ makes The Face.
Bora beans, long as jump ropes. Callaloo, bunched up like a green bouquet. Limes like little green marbles.
"Greens," says Mama, "are how you grow tall like a coconut palm."
JJ stops making The Face. He would like to be tall like a coconut palm.
11
Basket check!
Red sorrel — in. Orange mango — in. Yellow pineapple — in. Green bora and callaloo — in, in.
"Four colours caught," says Mama. "Two more and the rainbow is ours."
12
BLUE.
JJ looks left. JJ looks right.
Red things, orange things, yellow, green, purple things everywhere —
but nowhere, nowhere, nowhere in the whole market: something blue to eat.
13
"Blue food, please?" JJ asks Auntie Doreen.
Auntie Doreen laughs till her earrings swing. "Blue? Child, check the sky. That is where they keep it."
14
JJ's shoulders go down, down, down.
"Mama. Our rainbow is going to have a hole in it."
15
Mama bends down to JJ's ear, secret-style.
"Little prince — put blue in your pocket and hold it for later.
Rainbows keep secrets. This one will show you its blue when it is ready. I promise you that."
16
So on they hunt — and PURPLE finds them.
Jamun! Little purple berries, dark and sweet, that paint your tongue purple as a king's robe.
JJ eats one for quality control. He shows Mama his tongue. Quality: excellent.
17
And then one extra, not on the list at all.
A pink guava, round and blushing, straight into the basket.
"That one is for pink," says Mama, "because Mama thinks pink." And she winks, and the guava seems to wink too.
18
Home they go, the basket heavy and happy between them.
The kiskadee flies ahead, shouting: They catch it! They catch it!
Bruno meets them at the gate and inspects the basket with one official sniff. Approved.
19
In the kitchen, the rainbow gets a bath.
Splash for the sorrel. Splash for the bora. Splash-splash for the jamun, dark as little thunderclouds.
JJ dries them one by one, gentle as drying a kitten.
20
Then the cooking!
Mama chops and JJ stirs, up on his stool at the island, wooden spoon going round and round.
The pot fills up with colours — red and orange, yellow and green — and the whole kitchen starts to smell like everything good at once.
21
Below, of course, sit Roti, Dhal, and Potato.
Three cats, six eyes, all pointed at the chopping board, all extremely helpful in no way whatsoever.
22
The table is set. The pot is singing. The sorrel is cold and red-red in the jug.
But JJ is quiet, one small finger counting colours on the tablecloth.
"Red, orange, yellow, green… purple… Mama. The blue never came. The rainbow still has a hole."
23
Mama grins the biggest grin of the whole day.
"Little prince," she says. "Look under yourself."
24
JJ looks down —
and there, holding him up this whole time, soft and royal and velvet —
the blue stool. Blue as evening. Blue as Grandpa's colour. The bluest blue in the whole house.
25
"Blue is not for eating," says Mama, tapping the stool.
"Blue is for sitting. Blue is what holds the family up — while the family eats the rainbow."
26
So that is how the rainbow got finished.
Red sorrel in the glass. Orange mango on the plate. Yellow pineapple, green callaloo, purple jamun for after —
and one whole family, sitting on blue.
27
"I live the rainbow," says Mama, lifting her glass of red.
"I eat the rainbow," says JJ, lifting his.
"And we SIT on blue!" they say together, and the kiskadee outside shouts kis-ka-DEE! — which everybody knows means save some for me.
28
That night JJ falls asleep full of colours, purple still on his tongue.
And outside the window the sky puts away its own rainbow, satisfied.
It knows a good hunt when it sees one.