Felicity
The Thesaurus defines, felicity: the ability to find appropriate expression for one’s thoughts.
One eminent example comes from “Maurenglish”, if I may be allowed to coin a new word, is the expression:
riding twice on a bicycle.
Although the language of communication in Mauritius, the country of my birth is French or Créole a French dialect, the official language is English, imposed by our colonial masters. “Riding twice on a bicycle” is the act of carrying a second passenger in pillion.
The story goes that in a small (Christian) village with one policeman, one church and one bar, the priest had noticed that the policeman was a frequent absentee to his Sunday service, and had, not too obliquely, referred to “citizens who ought to set an example to their fellows who not only did not respect the sabbath, but ate red meat on Fridays, played cards under the banyan tree with the pagans, and who did not hesitate to persecute good Christians for the slightest infringement on the law. And I say all this, he said, more in sorrow than in anger, there’s nothing personal, all I only want is their redemption. This was obviously reported to the law enforcer, who promised himself that he will get even one day.
The opportunity arose shortly after one of the priest’s more vitriolic outbursts from the pulpit. One evening he caught the man of god riding his dilapidated bicycle in a one-way street and stopped him. He discovered that there were a number of things amiss.
Father, he said, producing his notebook, tut tutting and shaking his head. He wet his indelible pencil in his mouth, turning his lips mauve at the same time, and spelled out as he wrote:
One: You’re riding your cycle against the flow in a one-way street.
Two: You have no lights.
Three: Your brakes are faulty.
Four: Your handlebar is loose.
Then he turned to the law-breaker and added, I am only doing what I have to do because of your safety, father, nothing personal.
The man of the cloth chuckled. No need to worry about my safety my son. Wherever I go, the Lord is with me. The copper nodded, wet his pencil one last time, writing and saying:
Five: Riding twice on a bicycle.
