Me this stone
You see me this stone
You see how I just sit down here
Kinda round and kinda flat on the top, just so
You see where I position meself – right as you bend the corner after the first back-breaking hill, and just before the next killer hill. You see it up there
You see how ah settle meself right here, so the sun could bathe me through the breadfruit leaves, and then the skinnup could shade me when ah get too hot.
And I position meself right here where people could rest their tired bamsie on me
So I does hear all kinds a thing
And I know them voices and them good good now
The one that does drag he slippers going down the road, he jersey (T-shirt) reaching below he short pants. Sac on he back. Cap on head. Cigarette in hand. He voice husky and deep deep as if it coming out from quite down inside a barrel
And you see that lady across the road there, that look like she supposed to be a nice old lady with she cotton hair, sitting on she veranda? Well all she doing is maccoing the breadfruit tree. Shouting every time she hear a branch move or see a shadow
“Aye! Aye! Who dey in the breadfruit dey
Who you ask for breadfruit? Breadfruit tree is all you own?”
And the damn breadfruit tree is not even hers
The breadfruit and them just falling and making mess in the road
And all the youth man want is a breadfruit, maybe two if he lucky
To put down a likkle pot ah oil down, maybe share with he brethrens
Wash it down with a likkle lime juice. Because times hard. Is a survival
Then the fisherman going down, bucket a bait and fishing line
Telling the school children “mine how you go eh. Walk on the side nuh man.
What! You looking nice today oui!”
And I real like that; how he have time for them children
Later he going up, barracuda, bonita,.a slimy squid- dinner for the family
But it have a woman down the hill there, down in Bluggoe Hallow
Every morning she shouting, Rashooonn! Rashawn! Boy come and sweep the damn yard nuh bwoy. And I didn’t know it still have children who does sweep yard nuh
“Boy you doh going and tie out de blasted sheep.” Then later me neighbour calling hi. “Boy come and move the poor suffering sheep from there nuh. You end see it en getting nottin to eat there!”
And is the same youth man the lady across there had to put in he place the other day, because he too dam fresh up with heself. Seeping and calling her baby, as if them is companion or something. But ah was shock when she tell him how she have children twice he age oui! She en looking so at all!
Now Smallhead by she gate calling, ‘upstairs, upstairs!’ The other day, early early morning, he banging on she window with he broomstick when she didn’t answer him. And ah see he does pass in the back and walk round by the kitchen, and I know the lady doh like that because sometimes she does be walking round just as she born. But he does only charge a dollar a bag, to take garbage down to the bin. Every man have to make a dollar.
But you see how I just sit down here, so I does see all kinds a thing too
And so all kinds a bamsie does sit down on me
You see when them old ladies and them coming up from the beach early early morning, after they make it up Campesh Hill, and they bracing theyself, catching their hell to catch their breath, before they tackle Breakback Hill? Well they does take a likkle break by me here too. And one of them must rest she bamsie down on me
And ah does watch how those youths and them does speed up their car. Pretending they en hear them old ladies begging for a “pull up the hill nuh.”
You think I doesn’t hear all you saying how all you can’t handle these old people and them! But remember, is go they going, but is come all you coming!
And when Broko staggering up from the rum shop, where he had rum for tea, breakfast and dinner, the spirits seeping out from all he pores and them, just before he knock knee knock him down – and I don’t know how he does know when he reach me – but ah does just feel he bony bamsie hit me. Braps! And all I does think is, you better don’t fall and hit you blasted head on me, because ah en want no police come and ask me no question
But hear nuh, the other day when Susan bounce up with Natty, she just spread she big bamsie on me, so ah can’t even breath, much less see. And they start talking about the Church minister who have he wife and children but he still interfering with people girl children. How he too damn nasty for a big man! How he must make a damn jail. And ah know who they talking about good good, because a certain young girl does rest she bamsie on me and wait for a particular CRV to cruise down Breakback Hill. Heh!
And talking about CRV, I thought they say the country hard, how things dread. But I never see so much big brand new shiny cars passing on this road like now. And I wondering where people getting money to buy these cars and them!
And I even see that damn stuipdee ripping down the girl clothes in the road, the other night. Telling her to just give him back he damn clothes! Just because she take a likkle dance with somebody . Boy ah wonder what else he take back when they reach home
Yea man. I does hear and see all kinds a thing
Watch, I does surf the net and all, where you see ah sit down here, watch movie with them youth man and them, when they come and sit down on me to get connection
But you see that damn voice that interfering with me everyday
Telling me why ah doh stop me idleness there
Why ah doh go and get work to do
But ah does listen to the other voice too
It does tell me doh study it. It too damn fass
So I listenening
I still listening
Music is what emotions sound like
A new discovery I quite like
This Mother’s Day Thing…
So on Sunday I was driving up the west coast, en-route to my mother’s house for Mother’s Day. And all the way I was thinking, pondering on the whole mother’s day thing – the meaning, who invented it and dictated to us that we must celebrate this day – a day which is now so commercialize that it has lost its true meaning.
When I googled ‘ How did Mother’s Day start’, I learned that “Mother’s Day as we know it today was influenced by Ann Marie Reeves Jarvis, a young homemaker who starting in 1858, had tried to improve sanitation through what she called ‘Mothers Friendship Day’.
I was thinking about deserving mothers and obligated children. I am of the opinion that everyday is mothers’ day , once you have children. However, although I am one to practice what I preach, not to conform to what other’s dictate, I still feel a sense of obligation, simply because of how I think my mother will see it if I don’t. So I cooked, baked, and set off on the hour long trip to the north to spend the day with family – my mother, my children, sister, brother and a few friends.
Several people, on their way from church, it appeared, flogged me down for a ride. There is no bus service on a Sundays. But they just stood by the road waiting for rides, so I didn’t stop. Instead, I stopped for a young boy. He wasn’t going very far, but he was walking. We had a little chat and he thanked me ‘very much’ when he got off. So polite!
When I stopped to answer my phone – my brother wishing me Happy Mother’s Day- while I was on the phone, a woman opened my car door and got in, thinking I had stopped for her. I remember stopping in Lance Ax Epines some time aback, to fix my seat belt or something, a young lady just got in and said ‘yea, gimme a ride up so,’ No please or thank you! I waved the woman in. I didn’t mind. She got off a few blocks up the road and returned to my thoughts.
Along the way, children played in yards, a mother combed her daughter’s hair on the veranda, a mother waited to hold her daughter’s hand to cross the road, an old man washed a little toddler’s hands under the stand pipe – it would make a great picture.
I stopped for a mother and daughter. From church again. We had a very engaging discussion about this mother’s day thing. She too shared my opinion, that Mother’s Day is everyday and that children should treat mothers as they deserve, through everyday acts of respect, thoughtfulness and kindness. Not just wait until this one day and feel they have to spend money on things to tell their mothers or show them some love. The little things count big time (in my book). When I dropped them off, her daughter said ‘Thank you very much. Have a nice Mother’s Day Miss,’ with a big smile. And I see hope for the future in that smile, in that politeness.
A young mother with a very young baby stuck her hand out, a bit hesitantly, and looked surprised when I stopped. I held her bag while she got in the front (relieved I didn’t have to deal with the inconvenience that came with a two door vehicle) She settled her three month old baby against her chest, cute little baby grow, soft glowing skin; the colour of cinnamon and I was instantly taken back to my baby bearing days, when the scent of baby powder, baby oil, a hint of soiled nappy and those cute little baby sounds filled the jeep. I wanted to pack up and have a cuddle and a well desired sniff, but was only bold enough to ask for a picture. The mother looked at me , a bit puzzled, but said ‘ok’. And I saw myself, twenty four years ago, in her eyes. I saw how grateful she was for the ride.
My second son used words to say Happy Mother’s Day Mommy. My daughter showed me a very honest message she posted on her FB profile – her way of telling me. Later, I bumped into a friend on Bathway Beach, who mentioned liking a message my first born had posted on FB- (Yes, face Book again!) When I read it, I had to check what ‘my Ride or Die’ meant. (Urban Dictionary defines it as – Just because they mean that much to you). I applaud them for that and I am very touched, even though I would rather have had something tangible with those messages instead of posted on social media, but I guess that’s how they do it these days. I think I shall paste those messages on a card to keep- to remind them!
For me, being able to help out this young mother – perhaps on her way to her own mother, or perhaps her baby’s father – having this baby, blessing me with some very special and treasured memories- well that just did it for me. It was the most precious gift I could have to signify the essence and true meaning of this special day, that is set aside to celebrate Mothering Sunday. And the best reward for my kindness.
Finally
Hi again everyone. I am back! And I am so excited that my blog site is now up, looking the way I want it to and ready to roll! I can’t wait to share my stuff. I am looking forward to getting all my followers back in line and making new connections. Yes, I am now going to do the Twitter thing, so click away and head on to my other links, add me and spread the word! And thank you for all your support, comments …keep them coming.
I will be sharing some of my old stuff from my previous site, so some of you will recognize them. But nothing wrong with a re-read! When it’s nice, do it…as often as you like!
Reading at St George’s University
Sounding off on Creole Grenada Days 12
Published:
Tuesday, April 22, 2014
Lisa Allen-Agostin
Last Wednesday I wrapped the official activities of my writing residency with a gala reading at the St George’s University campus. It was the culmination of my service activities here. I felt especially proud when Grenadian writer Cindy McKenzie took the stage to read an excerpt from her manuscript Force Ripe. Cindy had been one of five participants in my intensive workshop for writers of intermediate to advanced prose fiction. The workshop ran weekly throughout March.
Cindy came to the workshop with her work at an already advanced stage. It is a novel about a girlchild coming of age during the Revolution, and includes some extraordinary details of life in Grenada during the 70s and 80s. I am hoping it will soon find a publisher and everyone will have a chance to read it themselves. One of Cindy’s concerns is that the whole manuscript is written in Grenadian Creole. While I (of course) don’t object to it, she’s encountered some resistance from other readers. It’s a question that has come up in nearly every workshop I’ve done here over my residency: how to navigate the use of Caribbean creoles in our writing. As someone who wrote a weekly column in Trinidad Creole for some years, I have to come down on the side of using the language.