Colin Channer - To Catch a Teef

 

 

When I was eight years old-- This was 1971 in Jamaica. One day, I was at primary school and the guy had gone to Miami and he came back and he told us a story of something he'd seen in a Walgreens. His description was, “It's a combination of a comic book, a magazine and a book-book, the Superman Annual. I'd never heard of an annual comic book. I'd never seen a comic book that was bigger than about 20 pages. So, I decided I had to see one which meant going to the biggest bookstore in Jamaica, Sangster’s. 

 

My mother was very strict. My father was already gone. Wasn't yet dead. He was a cop. He was scared of my mother, who was a pharmacist. My brother and I were scared of her too. [audience laughter] So, every Saturday, she would take us to these drawing classes in Downtown Kingston, which looks like an old southern town with these buildings with these pitch roofs. We'd go to art class. There was 15 minutes between when we left and when she picked us up. Sangster's Books, biggest bookstore in Jamaica, five minutes run around the corner. I told my brother, I'm going inside to the bathroom. I'm coming back before mommy comes. My brother, his name is Gary, he wanted to be a priest or so he would say, to be considered innocent. I wanted to be an astronaut. How practical. [audience laughter] 

 

So, I ran around to Sangster’s. And in those days, in Jamaica, you still had mule carts and you had cars and you had reggae playing everywhere. And I run into the bookstore, and it's strange to me because it's cold. It was air conditioned. I hugged myself. Wow. And then, I look up, and 10 steps in front of me at a cash register was a woman in a blue polyester suit. She was the color of strong T, and her hair was like broccoli. So, I said to her, “Excuse me, miss, Is there something here called a Superman Annual?” And she says, “Yes.” She told me where it was. And then, I went around to where it was on the shelf. And there was a big sign above it that said, no reading aloud. So, I skimmed through it. 

 

It was the size of a family bible. Heavy. It had a hardcover. There were interviews with the people who drew the Superman comics. There were other storylines that we'd never seen before. There was about a whole year's worth of Superman comics in one book. I ran back to art class. “Ah, I made it.” I started going every week. I became friendly with the cashier. I would go in, “Hi.” And she'd go, “Hello,” until she started sending a clerk to guard me while I read the Superman Annual under the no reading aloud sign. 

 

So, one weekend, I didn't go to art class. I didn't get to see the Superman Annual, didn't get to see my lady friend. I was thinking about her about how nice she was and how different she was from my mother. As I started thinking about how nice she was, I felt obligated to be nice to her. As I started feeling obligated to be nice to her, my eight-year-old mind started connecting something, which is, I want the book. If I ask my mother for the money to buy the book, she will say no. I'm a single mother. But if I had a friend who worked in the store, then maybe I could get her to like me in a special way, [audience laughter] and maybe we could work something out. [audience laughter] 

 

So, when I got back to Sangster's, the next time, and I walked in the store and I hugged myself, she hugged herself long. I said, “Hi.” She said, “Little friend, what happened to you? I didn't see you last week.” I said, “Well, you know,” and I began to improvise. “Well, I was out with my mother and we were shopping. I like to help my mother a lot. So, that's why I didn't come.” She said, “You're a nice little boy.” I went around the corner, ran back to art school, made it. 

 

Next week, I would steal the book. I made a plan, good plan, a wicked plan. I used to like watching The Saint with Simon Templar. I used to like watching It Takes a Thief with Robert Wagner, Alexander Mundy. America made this. [audience laughter] So, I went in the store the next week, ran inside, did not hug myself. I just ran up to her and said, “Oh, my God, you wouldn't believe what happened. I was out shopping with mommy like last week and the bag broke. You have a bag you could give me?” And she said, “Little friend, of course,” and gives me a bag. 

 

I run out the front entrance and I walk around the back way, coming through the back entrance with the bag under my shirt, pull it out. Superman Annual was there. Take it, drop it. Hulk Annual was there too. [audience laughter] Spider Man was there as well. And why should a superhero be alone? [audience laughter] So, I walked out, nice and easy. Perfect heist. Then I got back to art school. And my brother, the priest was there. [audience laughter] “What you have in the bag?” 

 

Now, when your brother is 12, and he wants to be a priest and anything he says is believed, and you want to be an astronaut and anything you say is otherworldly, [audience laughter] you get defensive. So, there was only one answer, “None of your damn business.” And he asked me again and I said, “None of your beeswax.” And then, my mother came. We got in the car, blue Ford Escort. My brother says, “Mommy, Colin have books from Sangster’s.” 

 

And my mother stops the car. She looks at me, “Where you get money to buy books from?” Well, “It's not books, Mommy, it's comics.” “Well, where you get the money to buy the comics from?” I experienced early onset prepubescent amnesia, because at eight, I couldn't remember that time when Uncle Cody came and he gave me the money, that time. [audience laughter] “You beg Uncle Cody for money? You're begging people money because you think you have no father?” “Why is it nobody ever believes me when I say anything?” “Your teef the books.” 

 

Now, in Jamaica, you don't steal, you thief. And you don't thief, you teef. [audience laughter] “You teef the books?” “No, Mommy, I did not thief the books.” “Show me the receipt.” “Okay. Will that make you happy?” I rummage around. I must be drop it. [audience laughter] “I'm going to drive you back to Sangster’s.” “Better tell me the truth now. “Don't shame me in front of people.” There was a simple calculus. When you're in the backseat of a two-door car in 1971 in Jamaica, where parents can do anything they want in any fashion for however long, you say, “Let's go to the store.” [audience laughter] Because in the store you'll have witnesses who are not in the family. [audience laughter] 

 

So, we get there. My mother walks in. She does not hug herself. [audience laughter] We come in and my mother says, “Which cashier you buy it from?” The amnesia again. “I think it was-- I can't remember,” and I see my lady friend observing all this. I am the fortunate son. “That one, Mommy.” We walk up to her. “This boy here said he bought three books from you. Superman, Spiderman and an another one. [audience laughter] You remember him buying anything from you?” I looked at my lady friend. My lady friend looked at me. We had a connection. [audience laughter] She looked at my mother, and she looked back at me and she said words I will never forget, “Little friend, I am so disappointed.” [audience laughter] and I learned the power of shame. 

 

Years later, my second book came out. I got a letter from Sangster's books. They were opening a new store in Kingston and they would like me to come [audience laughter] to do a reading there. When I went to the store, all the memories of that heist came back, but also, a real connection of what it means to be disciplined in different ways. There was a discipline of my mother, the discipline of force and then there was the discipline of someone saying in her own way, “I know you can do better, do better.”