Jamaica - Jamaican Culture

An Old Friend?: What Is For You - Part 2

Aisha Scales — Mon, 06 Feb 2012 13:30:02 UT

The car was parked nearby and it wasn’t long before we were driving down Palisadoes Road, along the strip of land that connected the Norman Manley International Airport to the rest of the island. Although I was concentrating on the conversation with my family, I just couldn’t keep my eyes on any of them. I was too busy looking out the windows. Every time that I came back to the island and was driving down Palisadoes, I felt like I had to devour everything I saw with my eyes, as if, if I didn’t, it might all disappear. As I talked about how school was going, I was staring out of my window, watching pelicans suddenly dive into the sea and scoop up their prey. As I laughed at my uncle’s cracks about Canada’s bitter winters, I was staring out the front windshield, fascinated by the speed and recklessness of the Jamaican drivers who were heading in the other direction and those overtaking us. As I sympathized with Bridget about how quickly summer vacation always ended, I was staring out her window at a goat and her kids walking through the brush.

The drive on Palisadoes ended at the Harbour View roundabout and suddenly I really felt like I was in the city. Now what was fascinating me out the window was the people that we were passing by on the streets. I watched, mesmerized, as they called out to friends, sat on stoops sharing jokes, hawked their wares, or chased stray dogs away. Nobody was doing anything particularly interesting, but with every thing that they did, they seemed to be oozing their national identity. Every movement seemed distinctly Jamaican.

Before too long, we moved into a more residential area and my view now changed to the houses of Kingston’s middle class. I had always loved the Jamaican architectural style, where the weather allowed the houses to be much more open than they could be in Canada. As I passed by the houses, I appraised each one, deciding which I would live in and which I wouldn’t. It was a complete shock to me when I suddenly felt the car slow down. “Are we here already?” I asked as I realized we were turning into my aunt’s driveway.

“Already?!” asked Bridget incredulously. “And it tek so long?”

Two hours later, the house was in sleepy silence. After a late lunch of pepper pot soup and hardough bread, my aunt and uncle had both gone to take a nap. Bridget had seemed intent on attaching herself to my side but Aunt Sharon had firmly put a stop to that and told her to give me some privacy. She had reluctantly agreed and was now quiet in her bedroom. I was unpacking a few of my things in the guest room, lost in my daydreams, when I was startled by the loud bang of the front door opening and closing. Suddenly the house seemed filled with noise, as I heard Jeremy’s voice call out, “You guys back yet? I’m home!” I started to grin as I heard his heavy footsteps jogging up the stairs. “What’s up, cousin?” beamed Jeremy, knocking on my open door. “Wha yu a seh?”

“What’s up, Jeremy?” I squealed, giving him a big hug.

He shrugged and grinned. “Nutt’n really. Sorry I didn’t come to the airport but I had to meet up with someone.”

I rolled my eyes. “Uh-huh. It seems you’ve become quite the player these days from what I’m hearing.”

“Me!? No way. Just trying to enjoy life, you know what I mean? Nutt’n nuh wrong wid dat!”

“Well, being in a relationship is overrated, I know that much,” I said wryly. “You and some guy just mash up?”

“Yep, he dumped me last week because I was coming here. Said he doesn’t do long distance.”

He shrugged and grinned. “That’s good news for you, why would you want to come here and be tied down to someone all the way in Canada? Anyway, come to my room, this guest room too boring, not even a TV in here.”

Bridget’s door flew open as she heard us passing by, and she trailed behind as we went to Jeremy’s room.

“So you ready fi start school in Jamaica?” he asked brightly after turning on his television. “You know is not vacation this time around!”

“Yeah, I think I am. I’m pretty excited about it. My parents keep warning me that it’s going to be so hard, but I think I can handle it. I know I’ll learn a lot, that’s my goal. Besides, U of T is no joke either.”

Jeremy rolled his eyes. “Well, Miss Straight A, I’m glad that one of us can seh dat! I’m sure this year gwine be tough for me. You have to make sure that I get my work done, especially since I’m going to be living on hall.”

I laughed and threw my hands up helplessly. “There’s only so much I can do, you know, we’re not staying on the same hall!”

He grinned. “Well, every time you’re going to the library, jus’ mek sure you link me first.”

Jeremy was going to be living on Chancellor Hall, an all-male hall and the same hall that both of our fathers had lived on. In fact, that was how our fathers had met, which had eventually led to my aunt and uncle meeting. Growing up, I’d learned that alumni of the University of the West Indies seemed to stay fiercely loyal to their halls forever. My uncle was so proud that his son would also be “a Lion of Chancellor Hall”. My own mother had lived on Mary Seacole Hall, an all-female hall and the sister hall to Chancellor. She always talked about the fun time that she’d had there, and she had done a pretty poor job of hiding her disappointment when I chose to live on a co-ed hall instead. I was going to be living on Rex Nettleford Hall, one of the newer halls on campus. Tradition was great and all, but now that I was single, I was very happy that I’d be having some testosterone around me.

“So what about you, Bridget?” I asked, turning to my little cousin. “Are you ready to start first form?” Bridget had done fairly well on her Grade Six Achievement Test and was now ready to move on to high school.

Bridget looked nervous as she shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m just used to being the oldest person in the school and now I’m going to have to be the youngest.”

I nodded sympathetically. “I remember that feeling when I started high school, and when I started university too actually. But it’s so cool starting something new that you forget all about that stuff really quick. And then, next thing you know, you feel like you were always there.”

She didn’t look convinced. “I guess so. At least most of my friends are going to be at the same school as me.”

“That will make a big difference, trust me. Imagine how I feel! Jeremy’s the only person I’m going to know, and he’s not even going to be living on the same hall. I might never see him.” The thought made me feel a little nervous. Who knew if anyone on hall would like me, or vice versa? What if I didn’t fit in?

“What classes are you taking?” asked Bridget. “What are you going to be when you’re done?”

I sighed, thinking how to answer. “That’s the million dollar question. I’m not totally sure what I want to do with my life yet.” I turned more toward Jeremy. “I’ve thought about that so many times in the last few years and still no answer yet.”

“You must have some idea,” he replied, eyebrow raised. “Yu’ been at U of T for two years already! Aren’t you doing history or something like that?”

“Well, I’m getting a degree in Caribbean Studies. And I’m really happy that I chose that, I love all my classes, they’re great. But as to what I want to do with that when I’m done…no clue. I’ve thought about going to law school, and going into international law, or maybe immigration law. I’ve thought about doing a master’s and a Ph.D and hopefully becoming a professor one day. I’ve even thought about going into politics. That would be kind of cool. But who knows? I think that this year might help me decide what I want to do once I go back, or at least I hope so.”

“See, that’s what happens when you’re too smart,” declared Jeremy, shaking his head. “Too many options. You see me? Accounts is all I’m good at, so that’s all I can do! And we’ll find out this year if I can actually even do it. Now come. Listen to this new riddim, it’s wicked, Nadiya, trus’ me.”

Later on that night after another light meal, the house had quieted down again. I was lying across the guest room bed reading a novel I’d picked up at the Toronto airport and, although the book was good, I was having a hard time concentrating. I found myself reading the same lines over and over again because I was feeling so antsy. I’d had a nap and a shower and both had invigorated me. I wanted to do more with my first night in Jamaica than just sit around but the whole household seemed settled in for the evening. Bridget and her parents were watching a children’s movie, and last I’d seen Jeremy, he was on the phone with some girl. So I was delighted when he knocked on my door and asked if I felt like going out.

“Of course! What’s the plan?”

He laughed at my enthusiasm. “Lawd, Nadiya, yu bored, eeh? Sorry, I should have realized that you would want to go out tonight. Anyway, nuttin’ too exciting goin’ on still. My friend, Kamal, called me just now. One of his friends is having people over to his house to watch movies. So you’ll get to meet some UWI people.”

“That sounds good to me. Just give me about twenty minutes?” Fifteen minutes later, I had put on a little bit of makeup, changed into a casual, but pretty, colourful halter-top maxi dress and sandals, and was ready to go.

“So this guy, Kevin, whose house we’re going to, he’s a good person for you to meet actually,” Jeremy said as we got in the car and headed out of the driveway. “He’s the same age as you, I think. He’s a medical student.” It was crazy to me that, in Jamaica, it was possible to go to both med school and law school straight out of high school. I couldn’t imagine being able to handle either one of those at my age, or even to know that that’s what I wanted to do with my life.

“He doesn’t live on campus,” Jeremy continued, “but he’s a really friendly guy, he knows everybody, and he always knows where all the good sessions are.”

“Is he cute?” I asked teasingly. This guy sounded interesting!

Jeremy kissed his teeth. “Nadiya, I cyaan judge dem tings. But I will say, nuff girls like him, so they all seem to think so.”

As our journey went on, I noticed that our drive was taking us successively higher and higher into the peaks of Beverly Hills, and I started to realize what kind of money some people on the island really had. The closer one got to the sky in Jamaica, it seemed, the closer the housing prices got to the sky as well.

“Well, judging by his neighbourhood, I think he could be the hunchback of Notre Dame and he’d still have girls chasing after him!” I said as I looked out the window.

My cousin laughed. “That’s a good point. And just wait, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

He was right. I thought the area in general was impressive, but when we actually got to Kevin’s house, the sight of it took my breath away. It was the biggest, nicest one I had seen thus far, and that was saying a lot. There were huge black wrought-iron gates in front of the house, but they didn’t block the view of the circular brick driveway, the twostorey- high columns in front of the massive front door, and of course the house itself. You can’t even call that a house, that’s a mansion! It was absolutely gorgeous, with lots of balconies, huge windows and flawless landscaping.

But when Kevin answered the door for us, I forgot all about the house, and I saw the real reason he had so many girls chasing after him. The guy standing before me was the absolute definition of gorgeous. He was about six feet tall with a really low and tidy haircut, a well-groomed five o’clock shadow, and a complexion about the same colour as mine. He had teeth so white they were practically sparkling, eyes so dark that they did sparkle, and I would have killed to have his long curly eyelashes. I literally felt my heart skip a beat when he smiled at me and I saw his slight dimples. Even in his loose T-shirt, it was clear that he worked out a lot and had a great physique. I had thought that Colin was really cute, but Kevin was, quite literally, the best-looking guy I had ever seen in my entire life.

When Jeremy introduced me, my normally outgoing self was speechless. I just smiled shyly, mumbled a hello, and quickly looked down as Kevin led us into his living room. There was already a large group of people in there, but no more male supermodels. At least it will be easier to talk to them, I thought wryly.

And it was. Everyone there was around my age, many were students at UWI, and all of them were very friendly and receptive, typical Jamaicans. One of them, a girl named Tamara, was actually a third-year student at the University of Western Ontario, a Canadian university with a sizeable Jamaican population, so she and I even talked for a while about life in Canada.

In spite of everyone’s amiability though, I couldn’t help feel somewhat detached from the rest of the group, and not just because they all knew each other. It was funny, when I was in Canada, I always declared myself a Jamaican. But right then, sitting on that couch, I felt more Canadian than I’d ever felt before. The others talked about people, places and things that I had never heard of, and sometimes used words in patois that I couldn’t even begin to decipher. Although I had been feeling so at home in Jamaica since I’d arrived, I had to admit that I was now feeling a little bit like a foreigner.

But even while going through this self-reflection, I still managed to keep one eye on Kevin the entire time. Which meant that it was easy to see that I wasn’t the only one who was watching him. A lot of the girls there, even some of the ones with boyfriends, were clearly flirting with him. In spite of it all, he seemed completely blind to the attention. He appeared to be a very funny, outgoing guy just as Jeremy had said, but he wasn’t responding to any of the girls’ advances.

At one point I found myself alone in the kitchen with Tamara and worked up the courage to ask her about him. “So…tell me something. What’s the deal with Kevin?”

Tamara burst out laughing. “Bwoy, I should have known,” she said with a shake of her head. “Every girl who see my cousin seem to fall in love wid ‘im. He is single, if that’s what you want to know, and that’s by choice obviously.”

“But how come?”

“I suppose it’s because of medical school. He says he’s too busy right now for a girlfriend or for dating. When he’s not at the hospital or studying, which is most of the time, then he’s out with his friends.” Tamara shrugged. “But you know what, personally I think that if he met the right girl,” she said with a sly grin, “he’d be willing to make sacrifices.”

Before I could reply, the subject of our conversation walked into the kitchen. I felt my face flush, wondering if he had heard anything we’d been saying. “What’s up, girls?” he said with a smile as he opened the refrigerator. “Yu havin’ a good time, Nadiya?”

Once again, I felt speechless. “Yeah,” I responded shyly. God, you’ve got to say more than that, I reproached myself. He’s going to start thinking you have some kind of medical problem. “I’m having a really good time actually,” I continued bravely, noticing that Tamara was slipping out of the kitchen. “I’m glad that you had this get-together, it was nice to get to know some people from UWI before I started. And I met a girl who’ll be living on Rex, so that’s nice too.”

“Yu looking forward to being on campus?”

“Oh definitely! I’ve lived on campus the last two years at U of T, and it was always fun.”

“Yeah, I thought about it, but...” and he leaned in to finish his sentence, “I think everybody would laugh at my Spiderman pajamas and I just can’t sleep in anything else.” He winked at me. “Yu comin’?”

I had to do my best not to grin like an idiot as we walked back into the living room together. When Kevin had leaned in towards me, I had felt like I might melt, and my pulse was still racing from that wink. He was the most charming guy I had ever met.

As we entered the living room, I looked away so that nobody would see me biting the inside of my cheek or see that I was blushing. I ended up glancing over at a piano off to the side of the large hallway. I had noticed some pictures on the top of it before, but hadn’t been close enough to see what they were. Now, I slowed to take a closer look. They were the typical family pictures that you’d expect to see in a living room: children in various stages of growing up. There was a picture of what appeared to be Kevin graduating from high school, as well as a similar older picture for two boys, who were without a doubt identical. There were a few pictures of all the boys when they were younger (Kevin was so cute!), but one picture especially caught my eye. It was a picture of Kevin’s sixth birthday (I could tell by the banner in the background), and he was blowing out his candles, in the midst of a sea of over-excited children. Just at the edge of the picture, there was a little girl in a pink dress that looked like a cotton candy explosion who was reaching her hand towards the cake with a look of greed in her eyes. “Hey, that’s me!” I cried in surprise.

Kevin came back over to the picture to see what I was pointing at. He smiled widely. “That little girl who stuck her hand right in the middle of my cake was you, Nadiya? Yu serious?”

“I’m positive! I have a picture of me wearing that same dress at home, and I know I was on my way to someone’s birthday party. I guess now I know whose party it was.”

“Yeh man, I know my mother invited everyone in my class. You went to St. Peter and St. Paul Prep?”

“I sure did.”

“Wow, what a small world,” he said with a grin. “Well, for the record, I don’t remember it very well at all, but my parents tell a great story about my little girlfriend who completely mashed up my cake and ended our relationship!”

I couldn’t believe it. At one time, even though it was fourteen years ago, I had actually been this gorgeous creature’s “little girlfriend”! Well, hopefully he’s over the cake thing enough now to think that I’m worth dating again!

I definitely wasn’t in Jamaica looking for a serious relationship, and from the sounds of what Tamara had said, her cousin wasn’t looking for that either. But spending more time with Kevin, getting to know him better...that sounded intriguing!

Poem: Red Coat Plum

Margaret Juliet Bailey — Mon, 23 Jan 2012 13:30:02 UT

Who is the Dona they call Plum?

Posessing a smile like Mona Lisa,

She could be anywhere travelling

on her international visas,

or in her kitchen whipping up

a batch of dim sum,

Folks dare not bother her chums,

or they will end up in a quandry,

wondering where is the sun,

or part of a stew in her pantry,

The steward of an empire,

battling daily and putting out fires

of animosity,

A strong speaker, emphasizing

her points at high velocities,

A philanthropist, and supporter

of charities,

Sometimes, she gets to the point

by omitting little niceties,

But always a lady,

delicate and dainty,

with red, flaxen hair, she flitters

about the hemisphere, unaware

of her feminine wiles and no-nonsense

styles, while wading through the piles of

baloney administered by males,

trying to be coy and phony,

A fruit she is not, and has no affinity

to people acting "dutty",

A mere look of the evil eye,

could render her critics fighting

to get out of the gully,

Red Coat Plum should be a national treasure,

born from fantasies, with one stroke of her

pen, she could make everything better.

Tags: Where Are The Parents?

Poem: Bongos

Margaret Juliet Bailey — Mon, 23 Jan 2012 13:30:02 UT

The revolutions and marches of the '60's

haven't changed much, since all the strong

civil rights leaders have come and gone,

A new era in America has been born,

Racism is at an all time high, not just

from caucasians, but from other

minorities who would rather depreciate

their competition, taking the spotlight

off their incompetencies,

such as their broken english

and lack of ettiquette,

Treating Caribbeans poorly with their negative attitudes

of "You get what you get, and you dare not get

upset !"

They label West Indians as "Bongos"

only because they will not accept

their rude, crude and lewd modes of

actions,

The other minorities try to bring them down

by discounting their heritage, and resolutions,

If they cannot be controlled and treated

as if they were slaves,

Their strength of character and fortitude

gets misconstrued as children who misbehave,

They are called "Bongos" with attitudes

and are banded from receiving accolades,

The naysayers will taunt, haunt, harrass

and endanger the lives of those who

refuse to conform to their social agendas

and ways of living,

They want Islanders to turn their backs

on their upbringing without any misgivings,

The pride, and stociousness of foreigners' lives

creates curiosity and spies,

If they aren't shouting their most, deepest

personal desires from the rooftop,

The labels "Bongos", "Hos" and "Giggolos"

gets slapped on to their backs, making them subject to all

forms of disrespect and rebellious acts.

Tags: Where Are The Parents?

Poem: Mawga Dawgs

Margaret Juliet Bailey — Mon, 23 Jan 2012 13:30:02 UT

Being a good neighbor

is not all it is cracked up to

be, some people take advantage

of your generosity,

That's what happens wen fi "mawga dawgs"

we feel sorry,

They call on you all hours of the night,

hoping to get them out of their

baby-sitting plights,

Free of charge and with an open heart,

you oblige them by playing the good

neighbor part, yet, with each opportunity

they get, they drive a dagger through your heart,

Talking behind your back, flipping the coin,

and confusing facts,

That's what happens when you try fi have

"mawga dawgs" backs,

Your compassion and kindness make it

unconscionable to say no,

But, when you have outlived your usefulness

They blatantly tell you where to go,

"Mawga Dawgs" are wicked to blow-wow!

Regardles, that you have played Florence Nightengale

in their deepest, darkest hours, and never asked for any

kudos or flowers, the selflessness rarely gets you any gratitude

and respect,

"Mawga Dawgs" will turn around and call you an ungrateful wretch!

However, when the situation is reversed and you try to enlist their

help, you have to dig deep into your pockets till it hurts and leaves a welp,

"Mawga Dawg" always tink a ongly dem wan need help,

Being a good person always gets you punished for being kind,

'Cause wen "mawga dawg" get dem chance dem a go mek yu ta-ta

and you business grind!

Tags: Where Are The Parents?

Poem: Obama's Cross

Margaret Juliet Bailey — Mon, 23 Jan 2012 13:30:02 UT

Obama came into the Presidency,
with clever ideas and a sense
of urgency,

Many laughed and smiled,
but they were just waiting
for a while to block him
every which way with
rhetoric and hypocrisy,

Dirty politics is making
a grandstand, using
whatever leverage
it can,

Politicians slinging
mud at one another,
using a President's family,
for carefree fodder,

Private lives will get
displayed like pieces of
mahogany furniture,
rendering a life of Public

Service ordinary and common.

Tags: Where Are The Parents?

Ms. Dulcie Sey: "Marriage iz a joke today!"

Dulcimer Peaches Robothom — Mon, 23 Jan 2012 13:30:02 UT

Halloo all mi wandarful fans!

Ow iz unu all doin? Well, Ms. Dulcie iz bizzy ringin in de New Year! Me an Missa Fowler a spen de New Year quiet, 'cause de yung peple dem get a bit rambunkcious dem ya dayz. So, me sen im go store ow much howas ago fi get sum hegg nog. Hall now mi still a wait fi im fi cum back, im mussey gawn to de fowl coop fi get de hegg dem fi mek de hegg nog.

Praise Jesus sey me haff wan bit hoff sorrel juice leff fi keep mi company!

What a ting do eh? Oman cyan depend pon man fi do wan simple task.....!

Well, me haven't been gettin much letta since de Haliday, but, me haff story fi tell uno bout mi daughta Hingrid. Aldough, she nuh like fi mi chat ar wid uno, but me so jubilated bout ar sitiation dat me haffi shout hit from de mountain top.

Mi deres, she finally get unhitched from dat ragamuffin Yehuda, me sey de bwoy gey me pickney nuttin but grey hair an which part ar hair no grey, ar head peel hout like drunkanoo. Me gal pickney tun inna pure nerves an skeleton wid dis ya bungle a wackiness.

Hevrey day mi phone was a ring wid doom an gloom an hexcitement. Yu knoe how much plane fare me spen fi go back an forth a hetiopia? De wranglings wid dem two nearly put me inna wan Sanitorium. Me nearly haffi mawgage mi house fi de plane fare an hexpenses.

Dat de bwoy is real crasses, yu knoe sey, im practically whine an dine oman pon mi daughta doorstep?

Den im a tell me sey, a Hingrid mek im do it 'cause she nah pay im no attention. Him sey, since de bebe bawn, dat's hall she obsess wid. Yu an me knoe sey dat is juss a farce. Im was a use ar fe wan punchin bag lang before de pore granpickney bawn.

Peoples, Miss Dulcie tun in a rare form, 'cause me believe sey Hingrind bounce ar head. Hafta me go wid ar a divorce court fi dissolve de marriage, she no go back an live wid im innna "owie-owie". Hiff she nuh hoffa fi ar rockas, den me is hoff mine.

Im is a low dung crab louse yu see, im put Hingrid and de chile pon wan food ration, den im tek de money wey im save an buy sweet boys' clothes fi go a road an spree. Well, I flew like a bat outta ell pon mi broomstick fi traighten im hout.

A did knoe sey sumting nevva right wid im from mawnin, but Hingrid she iz halways convincin me fe see de good inna peple. Dis ya bwoy is de hanti-christ. Yu need wan microscope fi se fi im good streak. Im sen mi daughta an ar chile go to de hemergency room sevral times. Me juss go hova dere wid me crazy self an kinely move she, an likkle "precious" from de clutches a dat wacko.

Hingrid haffi hide unda de bed fi tawk to simady pon de phone, hall day long im a accuse ar hof cheatin, meanwhile, im practically haff wan harem at im disposal. Mi fix im yu see...Mi move hout hevry piece a funiture from de house, an ongly leff im wan footstooll fi kotch pon. Wen im cum home, im mouth hopen wid surprise. Me juss kinely remind im dere ain't no flies to be caught, an im need fi clear hout, 'cause a me did buy de property wid me haard earn broadcastin money.

Hingrid sey im tell ar she cyan hexscape im. Well, hafta me go deh, an sekkle im dung wid Ms. Dulcie's remedy far rodents an fleas, I doughn't tink sey im will eva cyall fi ar nyame again. Hiff yu eva see Hingrid, she look like wan mawga dawg and mi gran chile look like wan a dem biafra chilren pon TV. No man, hafta me sacrifice fi raise me chile good, disya bwoy wan spoil are hup wid im macca-bracca ways. NO way in Helsinki! You ere me good!

Ms. Dulcie get bad in ar ole age...Im put fight to me, an me juss tek de broom stick an shoob im hout de door. When me finish wid im, all me see iz im two likkle frog leg dem a run dung de street like Donald Quarry. Im all lef de truk wey poor Hingrid buy im, but could nevva did ride inna it wid im. You knoe sey, she an de bebe haffi beg dem neighbor dem fi transport dem back an forth. Hif me did knoe all a dis was a go on, a wuld a fix im bizness lang time.

Ms. Hingrid she luv fi keep hup a stocious front dat's why me neva knoe. Hall fi me haaard earn money waza support fi im lothario ways, what a bacanal!

Me just ship hoff Ms. Hingrid to Hengland to ar fada peple dem so dat dey ole relux cyan fine ar an ragga-ragga ar. Me juss ope sey she no get senile inna de brain an cyall, cyall im 'cause she lonely. Cause dis ya time im a go eider leff ar dead or alive an bruk.

Hiff im eva go near mi daughta again, me a go put wan Domestic Violence alert pon im a de Airport.

Unu tank unu lucky stars if unu haff pickney an dem happily married 'cause dis ya marriage ting today is a joke. Dem ya bwoys an gals tink dem a play dolly ouse wid life. If dem nuh reddy, iz ongly war an babylon gwey go on. Ms. Dulcie nuh haff nuh time fi a play referee fi grown pickney. Me warn hoff Hingrid an tell ar sey, de nex beau a go get check thru de FBI an de CIA. She laugh.......But Ms. Dulcie is wan serious Muma.

Me juss a considar dat dem waz ongly married far two minutes, an dat bwoy has created so much haul an pull up inna mi pickney life...Did uno knoe sey im cyall ar wan transvestite?

No man, im too rude an houta horda!

By de way, Yehuda modder she, cyall me fi give me mi caarbon copy, cussin an cyarin on sey "Those furnitures are my son's and how dare you run him from the house!"

Me juss reply, "We haff a bad connection...Click..."Buh-Bye!"

Whatta nerve! Hafta im use me nice, nice girl chile as wan rag doll. Me gran chile is so traumatized me haffi tek ar go terapy four times fi di week. Hall me haffi sey iz, "Good riddance to bad gaarbage!"

Uno pray far Ms. Dulcie, 'cause hif dis ya varmit surface again, a may juss hack like wan shell shock solga an sekkle im puddin.

Tek cyare till nex time.

Ms. Dulcimer Robothom
from Westmoreland & Oracabessa

Tags: Ms. Dulcie Sey: "Marriage iz a joke today!"

Poem: Fulfillment

Karen L. McFarlane — Mon, 23 Jan 2012 13:30:02 UT

The black man has arisen

To his true inheritance

Of the noble warrior

With victory in his hand

He did not allow his neck

To be chained to the past

Of his pain

Becoming a victim to shame

From every lie that tried to define

He now regally arise

No longer languishing in the darkness of soul's nights

Mourning prejudices that confined

His name, his race, his face

For he now finds his place

His descendants must no longer use

History's excuse

Not to succeed

And exceed

Their highest potentials

Inspiring the evolving generations

A new foundation is laid

A new history is played

Again... the black man has risen

Beyond his pain

Turning his shame and the curse to his name

Now healed from the limp of being lamed

By history, by slavery, mockings & beatings

Into victory he strides living the delayed dream

Fulfillment of destiny... he is freed.

Tags: Where Are The Parents?

5 New Poems

Mon, 23 Jan 2012 13:15:00 UT

New Poems

The Drama Never Ends !!! - Memoirs Of An Illegal Alien Part 75

illegal alien — Mon, 16 Jan 2012 13:45:02 UT

Sue was moving back to Jamaica. She made this decision when she came back from visiting Rosa in Orlando. She turned down Sidney’s marriage proposal. It was a difficult decision because she would have gotten her green card, but she did not love him.

The only person she really every loved wasRitchie

. From time to time his name would come up in our conversations and I would see a sparkle in her eye. She still loved him even though they had both moved on. I heard he got married in Atlanta and now had 7 children. I thought I caught a glimpse of him one night at a club but was not sure.

Sidney was devastated by Sue’s rejection of his marriage proposal. He called everyday for 3 weeks asking her to reconsider. First there were the flowers and balloons. Then there were the gifts. Then there were the long messages on the answering machine professing his love for her. He even left love poems. Then there were the notes he would leave under the door. At first I thought it was pathetic. No grown man should be “carrying on” like this over a girl. Yes it was my sister and I felt a little pride that someone worshipped the ground she walked on but it was too much. By the third week I was feeling sorry for him. I wanted it to stop.

Sue seemed to be enjoying the attention even though she was not changing her mind.

Then Sidney turned to me. He called me asking me to intervene on his behalf. The conversation was very awkward.

"You know if she marries me you can also get your green card, "he mentioned.

I hated that Sidney knew about our situation. He was right though, if she married him I had a good chance. It would take a while however it was a path to a green card.

It was a path that was not going to happen as Sue made it clear to me she was not going to marry him.

”I really love your sister", Sidney declared.

"I don't doubt that, but you and her will have to work it out”, I replied.

"Do you know why she turned me down?" he asked.

"I don't know" I replied.

Then it got very awkward. He started to tell me how he left his wife and children for Sue. How he did everything for her. How much money he gave up to get divorced. How he had a better life in Jamaica but he chose to live here to be close to Sue. He started to cry and talked about their personal relationship. Just when I thought it could not get any worse he started to talk about missing Sue in bed and how she was the best.

It was time for me to get off the phone. I don't want to hear about Sue's sex life.

"Sidney, I have to go"

"Wait, do you know what Sue is going to do when she graduates?"

"No Sidney, bye", I hung up the phone. It was clear this was an obsession.

Sue had plans. Once she got back to Jamaica she was going to apply for Canadian residency. The Canadian government were providing Canadian residency to Jamaicans with Masters Degrees under a special program. Some Jamaicans were saying the program was causing a brain drain but I doubt people were rushing to go to cold Canada.

My mother had some cousins who lived there. Sue would live with them until she could manage on her own feet.

Sue also came back with news on Rosa. Apparently Rosa felt I gave in too easily to the break up. She thought I would fight. I am sure the way Sidney was pursuing Sue played a role in how Rosa felt I should have responded to her request to break up. I was not going to lower myself to begging.

"If you love someone you should not be afraid to show all your cards" Sue mentioned to me. "You know she wants you back"

"I can't force something. She has to make the first move"

"She won't"

"I won't either. She is the one who broke up with me"

"I told you she still loves you and wanted you to fight for the relationship"

"But I was fighting all this time" I replied.

"Make the first move" she pleaded.

I walked away. I did not want to discuss it anymore.

This whole situation was an emotional roller coaster. I was tired of the games. First it was Rosa calling off the wedding. Then it was the hope I felt that we would still get married. Then there was the “break up” that lasted less than an hour. Then there was the make up that felt like I was just her “lover”. Then the second break up. She always made it seem everything was my fault. It reminded me of the song “Just Once” by James Ingram.

I did my best

But I guess my best wasn't

Good enough

'Cause here we are back where we were before

Seems nothing

ever changes

We're back to being strangers

Wondering if we oughta stay

Or head on out the door

Sue gave me a few days but persisted that I call Rosa. My mother also asked a few times about me calling Rosa. It started to wear on me. Rosa seemed to be reaching out through them.

I started to reconsider. Should I call her?

"No"' I told myself. Let her make the first move.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Hello", Rosa’s familiar voice was on the other end.

"Hi", I replied.

"Ooh, it's you." She sounded surprised.

"How are you doing" I asked. The real question I wanted to ask was “Do you miss me or are you playing a new game?”

"I am doing well." She replied. I was hoping she would ask how I was doing but she did not. There was silence.

I did not know what to say next. I could revert to the common chit-chat about work, friends, etc. but I was not sure if that would accomplish the goal of re-establishing the relationship.

"How is the new job?" Rosa asked.

"It's going good," I replied. It was happening. We started to casually chit-chat. It was the type of conversation that friends have. It was the type of conversation that will not resolve the break up.

At the end of the call we agreed to talk the following week.

The call left me wondering what I was doing. How was I to fight for Rosa who was living in another location? There was no me going over to her place to see her. I could not afford flowers everyday like Sidney. Even calling her every day and talking for hours could become expensive. This was not going to work. I was wasting my time to satisfy the pressure from my mother and Sue.

I called and did the “small talk” routine for three weeks. We never discussed the relationship. Then I started to get Rosa’s answering machine.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I was not looking for a new relationship. I just wanted to have fun. I met a few girls while going out clubbing but nothing serious. Then I met Elena. She was of Cuban girl I saw a few times while clubbing. We danced a few times but nothing else. Steven prided himself at finding the hottest clubs for us to attend.

Elena was always at the hottest club with her friends. One of her friends dated Steven briefly.

Elena was always staring at me. Steven joked that she had the body of a black woman because of her butt. I had to admit she had a great shape. He did warn me to be careful of her.

Then one night what was supposed to be fun turned into something different.

It was a night where I may have had too much to drink. It started with her walking over to me and saying “Let’s dance”. The rest was a world wind, with me waking up at her apartment, she fixing me breakfast in bed and she calling me her “boyfriend”.

Granny Gheeta's Vision: Preview of Things To Come

Margaret Juliet Bailey — Mon, 16 Jan 2012 13:30:02 UT

My Granny Gheeta was a woman of many talents, however, her most famous contribution to our family was her skillfulness of having visions. During her lifetime, Granny had visions on every subject under the sun. From going to the market, to her female Grandchildren being in the "family way".

Therefore, when Granny died many family members thought her spiritual divinations were dead and buried as well, however, I know for a fact that they are more alive today.

I was in a twilight sleep one Sunday afternoon, when Granny Gheeta appeared. She quietly summoned me, telling me she had something to show me.

Granny herald, "Don't be alarmed, but I have something to show you, be careful someone is stalking you."

I laughed, I said, "Granny, you are being absurd!"

Like a fairy, she used her hands as magic wands and showed me someone lurking behind a door. She showed me pictures, where I was in my bedroom sleeping and a Big, Bulky figure, covered with a hoodlike cape picked me up and carried me away to a remote location. When I awoke from my sleep, the figure gave me a thwap on the head. After I came around a second time, I was surrounded by strange, cloaked individuals. Almost as if they were preparing to make a sacrifice.

Granny was very stern in her deliberations which made me realize that her appearance was not a hoax or one of her casual pranks.....This was a serious premonition Granny had returned from the grave to deliver.

Granny Gheets cautiously urged me to pay attention to my surroundings. Although, Granny was very convincing, I had not seen any signs of unusual behavior or causes for concern. It wasn't until several days later, I started smelling cigarettes in my apartment. I am not a smoker, so I wondered where the scent was coming from. I searched high and low, and then I saw a fleeting image of Granny brush pass my closet. I ferociously cleared out the closet, and searched the walls and panels, then I felt a cool breeze, and I looked up. The panel above my closet was covered with a big, gaping hole that lead to the roof. There the smell of smoke was more emminent than ever. It suddenly dawned on me, that someone was on the roof waiting to descend through my closet. It was then, I decided to stack tons of heavy bins in there and had the area sealed off.

I sighed a gesture of relief thinking that Granny's preview of things to come were somehow aborted due to my findings, but, I kept receiving visions from Granny and each time they were more intense. She said, "The barbarians are coming, they are looking for the nearest airport..."

I was baffled what did Granny mean?

A few days passed and everything seemed as normal as could be, until, one night I woke from my sleep because I felt an aura of eeriness around. I saw Granny's image pass through my foyer area to my front door. I went over to the area where I thought she had gone, it seemed as if she had passed through the window, so I looked out and there I saw a Big, Bulky man with a hoodie over his head, milling around on my patio and proceeding toward my front door.

Interestingly enough, I was calm, because Granny had forewarned me, so I was prepared to go into "Home Alone" mode. Oddly enough, after turning on the porch light the figure disappeared. For me, things were getting rather spooky. I reported the incident but, nothing ever came of the matter and I shrugged it off as an isolated event.

Then, one day I came home, and my lock on my door had been tampered with because when I tried to use my key it seemed to take a long time to open the door. When I inspected the lock, there was evidence that the knob had been juggled because the unpainted area of the lock was showing. I entered the apartment very carefully, flinging each door to squish anyone that would be lurking. I scanned the place and it seemed empty. It wasn't until I proceeded to the bathroom, that I saw sediments on my ruffled toilet cover. It was as if someone was doing masonry work in my bathroom. When I looked above, they had cleverly taken out the vent, and dug a gaping hole, that a very slender person could fit through. They covered the area back with a larger vent, and painted around it.

After these three incidents, I knew that Granny Gheeta's message was not mullarky. I was in clear and present danger. After many days of reporting my harrowing experiences, and taking the necessary precautions, the situation seemed to correct itself.

Many months passed, and I had not seen or heard from Granny so I thoroughly believed she was pleased in the way in which I had handled the matter. Until, one night as I was driving home from work, I felt the gnawing sense of someone following me, I did my best to elude the perpetrator, but there was another obstacle. Suddenly the thorougfare became besieged with trailers, as I looked around, I was the only vehicle on the road at the time, a van sped up behind me and one of the trailer's rear door opened, it felt as if the van was trying to force my car into the trailer. I looked in my rear view mirror and there I saw Granny with a grim look on her face and shaking her head....I knew that I was under siege.

My Jamaican roots came out in full form, my adrenalin went into overdrive and I shifted my gears, and duplicated a scene from the "Fast and furious". I was able to cleverly and narrowly escape the vehicle sandwich by exiting on a dirt road.

Granny no longer had to shout from the rooftop, there were forces that were vying for me and she was on to them.

All throughout my childhood years I was a skeptic of some of Granny's visions and dreams. After her vivid account of events in my life, I no longer doubted the power of loved ones from the grave and beyond. So, to all the non-believers who throw caution to the wind when their family members tell them about visions and dreams, Listen Up! Their tales just might save your life.

Tags: Granny Gheeta's Vision: Preview of Things To Come

The Arrival - What Is For You : Part 1

Aisha Scales — Mon, 09 Jan 2012 13:30:01 UT

As the airplane finally broke through the clouds, and I could see the familiar airport and the runway beneath me framed by the beautiful Caribbean Sea, the mixed feelings that I had been having for the entire flight finally started to tip the scale towards the positive. I could feel my excitement level rising and my trepidation melting away as I stared out the window. The bank of clouds that we had been flying over for so long wasn’t over the land, and the sun was shining down brightly on to the ground below. In the distance, I could see the mountains reaching up to the sky, looking like ancient, noble rulers of the land. Their massiveness was countered by the countless tiny white dots scattered over their surfaces, the houses of Kingston’s upper class. In that moment, it was hard for me to imagine a more beautiful sight than what I saw through the small square in the side of the plane.

This is going to be great, I smiled to myself as the plane descended towards the ground and the runway got closer and closer. A year away at school in Jamaica. How could I have ever doubted myself? The applause coming from the Jamaican passengers sitting around me as the airplane touched down smoothly on the runway only served to build on my excitement. I joined in, clapping energetically. We were all clapping not only to thank the pilots for the smooth landing that they had provided us, but also to thank them for bringing us back home.

I had been so enthusiastic about this trip at first, from the moment that I had first seen the flyer for the exchange program that the University of Toronto offered, right up until last week. That was when my boyfriend of six months, Colin, had broken up with me. At first, he’d been so supportive of my trip, telling me that it was a great idea and that he thought that it was an opportunity that I shouldn’t pass up.

“I know what I said,” he’d muttered, not looking at me, when I pointed that out. “But what else was I supposed to say? I couldn’t tell you to stay!”

I had to fight back angry tears. “No, you couldn’t tell me to stay but you could have been honest with me. You had me thinking you were so happy for me and you said you might come visit me...”

He’d finally looked up, exasperated. “Come on, Nadiya, be real. I wasn’t serious. I’m not going to go to Jamaica! I’ve heard about the crime down there, there’s no way I would go there, especially to Kingston. I think you’re crazy to be doing it, if you really want me to be so honest with you.”

I was stunned into silence at how cold he was being and how insincere he’d been previously. Colin, clearly relieved that I’d had nothing to say, had jumped up. “Sorry, Nadiya, but I just can’t do long distance. We’ll see where things stand when you get back, I guess.” He had given me an awkward peck on the cheek and practically galloped out the door.

Since that evening, I’d become convinced that I was making a huge mistake, and I still felt that way that morning when I was at the airport saying goodbye to my parents. I lost my boyfriend (even though he was a jerk) over this trip, I’m not going to see my parents until Christmas... Do I really know what I’m getting myself into? Living in Jamaica for an entire year was going to be much different from my usual one- and twoweek vacations with my parents. I had started to panic as I was handed my boarding pass, having visions of myself battling mammoth-sized cockroaches and mosquitoes as the humidity made my hair frizzier and frizzier, missing Colin the whole time.

After I got my boarding pass and was all checked in, my father had been the first to say his goodbye. After a firm hug, he instructed, “Make sure you call us from Aunt Sharon’s house as soon as you get in tonight so we know you got in safe. And do you have enough money with you?” I couldn’t help rolling my eyes. “Don’t make that face, you never know when you’ll need cash, you know,” he admonished me. “Who knows what could happen.”

I definitely appreciated the fact that my father was being open with his wallet, but he had given me enough cash in the past couple of weeks to buy a small country. “Daddy, I have enough money. If you give me any more, it will weigh me down.”

Then it was my mother, who already had tears running down her cheeks. “Please be careful, Nadiya. We all know Jamaica is a wonderful place, but don’t forget that it has another side too, alright? It can be a very violent place, especially for those who are naïve to it. Don’t ever wander around campus alone after dark, yu hear? And all your family is there, so make sure you call them whenever you need anything, anything at all. And as soon as you can, make sure to get a cellular phone. It doesn’t matter how much it costs, you can call us whenever you want and we will send you the money that you need.”

“I know, Mummy, I will, I promise. I’m going to take care of getting a cell and starting a bank account in the next couple days so that everything’s all set before classes start.”

My mother smiled at me and then gave me a tight squeeze. “And make sure you have a wonderful time. Your father and I always tell you that some of the best years of our lives were the years that we spent at UWI, so I know you’re going to have so much fun. But we’re really going to miss you,” she added wistfully.

I smiled back, but couldn’t stop my own tears from falling. Usually when she started her anxious mother routine, I wanted to get as far away as possible, but not in that moment. “I know, I’m going to miss you guys too.” I gave one last hug to both of them and then grabbed on to the handle of my carry-on that up to now my father had been pulling. I adjusted the strap of my purse, took a deep breath, and with a final “Bye, I love you!”, I hurried off to the security gate. I had given them one last wave at the security gate, but had barely been able to see them because of the tears clouding my vision. At that moment, I had been convinced that I had completely lost my mind. But now, sitting in my seat as the plane cruised to a stop, I felt the complete opposite.

Here I am, I thought happily, looking around me as people started to unbuckle their seat belts and open the overhead compartments (despite the seatbelt sign still being on and the purser’s annoyed announcement). Home.

Because even though I had been living in Canada for the last ten years, a full half of my life, I still considered Jamaica a second home. I had been only ten when we’d migrated, but I had plenty of fond and vivid memories of my time growing up there. I clearly remembered my old prep school, the pretty purple and white uniform I had proudly worn, playing Brown Girl in the Ring with the other little girls in our neighbourhood, going for ice cream with my parents on the weekends, and regular trips to the country to visit my grandparents. But even if I hadn’t had those memories, my family had come back to Jamaica to visit just about every year since we had moved, so the country had never gotten too far away from my sight or mind. That was why I would be seeing my parents at Christmas; this year, they were making their annual trip to Jamaica during the Christmas season.

Not that my heart wasn’t also in Toronto. I hadn’t done much travelling but I was still convinced that it was the greatest city on earth, and nobody could tell me different. It was a bustling, beautiful metropolis with a myriad of things to do and, in spite of its large size, it didn’t have the dirt or danger so common in other big cities. It had a beauty quite different from Jamaica’s; a beauty of concrete and steel instead of wood and water, skylines instead of mountain ranges, but I appreciated that beauty just as much. Toronto had a population whose diversity was unbeatable, and a population whose diverse groups all co-existed in peace. I had gone to high school with people whose origins were literally worldwide and I’d had a similar experience at U of T. A journey on the bus or subway in Toronto could feel like a brief world tour, all for the cost of a token. Most important was the large Jamaican population that had made us feel at home as soon as we arrived in Canada. It was a city in which I planned to spend the rest of my life, but I knew that it would all still be there for me when I got back, and for now, I was just excited to see what this year away as a free and single girl would hold!

An hour or so later, the excitement had worn off. I was finally through customs and just anxious to get out of the airport. After waiting in one slow-moving line after another, and watching luggage spin around on the carousel for what felt like an eternity until my suitcases came out, I was exhausted and grumpy. But as I walked outside, the hot and humid air hit me like a wave, I saw the bright sunshine and the crowd of people peering eagerly in looking for their loved ones and I couldn’t help smiling. I searched the crowd, looking for any familiar faces. Then I spotted them; my aunt, uncle and cousin were waving frantically at me. My smile turned into a huge grin and a laugh. I scuttled over as fast as the bag I was pulling would allow me and gave them each big hugs. There was a flurry of greetings. “So Nadiya, you think you can handle a year out here in Jamaica?” teased Aunt Sharon.

I shrugged playfully. “We’ll see, I guess!” Aunt Sharon shook her head and smiled at me. She adored her older brother, so by extension, she adored me. True to form, she started to gush. “Bwoy, Nadiya, look how nice you’re looking! I can’t get over how pretty you are. And how much you look like your mummy AND your daddy.”

I couldn’t argue with her about that. My parents were both very typical Jamaicans in their appearance, even though they looked vastly different from one another, and I, their only child, was like the solution to the math problem of their average. My father was what Jamaicans would call brown-skinned: he was a mixture of black and white. His beige skin and his loosely curled hair stood in sharp contrast to my mother’s dark chocolate skin and strong West African features. My complexion was neither light nor dark, falling exactly halfway between those of my parents’. I had my father’s high forehead and pointy chin, and from my mother, I had inherited her round eyes and high cheekbones. My hair, like my skin colour, was halfway between that of my parents, not as loosely curly as my father’s waves, but not as tightly curled as my mother’s kinks. I usually wore it straight to make it easier to manage (hence the worry about frizz). Even my height was halfway between that of my parents. My father was just over six feet tall, and my mother was barely five feet, putting me right between them at five foot six.

My aunt was still going on. “Such a shame that you gone and left us and turn Canadian, eeh? That’s the problem with this country, you know, so many of the best and brightest have felt forced to leave over the years. But I’m just happy to have you back for a whole year! Maybe you can have some influence on my little daughter, otherwise known as my little monster!” She gave her daughter a wry glance.

“Hey Bridget!” I said to this same cousin now, flicking the young girl’s ponytail. “How’s it going?” Bridget shrugged and smiled shyly. “OK.” She was always shy with me after not seeing me for a while, but I knew she would open up soon enough. She was as talkative as her mother when she was ready.

“Where’s Jeremy?” I asked, suddenly realizing that Bridget’s older brother was missing. Jeremy was nineteen, only one year younger than me, so we were close, or at least as close as we could be living so far apart.

Bridget rolled her eyes. “He’s out with some girl, as USUAL.” She wrinkled her nose in disgust. The jealousy in her face was obvious.

Uncle Wallie laughed heartily. (I had already left Jamaica by the time I found out that his real name was actually James, but that’s Jamaicans for you.) “Bridget is learning that a little sister isn’t the only female in a man’s life, and I don’t think she likes it too much.” Uncle Wallie was of full Chinese descent, which had often surprised some of my Canadian friends when they saw him in family pictures. I had had to explain many times that Chinese immigrants had arrived in Jamaica as far back as the 1800s, brought over as indentured workers when slavery ended. A lot of people didn’t realize just how multiracial the people of Jamaica were. No matter what his race though, my uncle was a die-hard patriot, as Jamaican as they come. I still remembered when he had taken his family to China for a trip years ago, and although he came back raving about the wonderful time that he had in his ancestral homeland, he also came back declaring that now he knew more than ever that Jamaica was his one and only home.

He continued now, “I hope you don’t feel insulted he didn’t come, Nadiya. He knows he has all week to spend time with you.” I had decided it would be best to come to Jamaica a week before my orientation started, to give myself time to do the little things I had promised my mother I would do, buy whatever I’d forgotten to bring and get settled in, so for the first week I was staying at my aunt’s house. After that, both Jeremy and I would be moving down to campus. Jeremy had been eager to get the chance to experience university life fully and completely, and that did not include living at home.

“OK,” declared Uncle Wallie, grabbing the handle of my suitcase. “Is too hot to just stay here and stan’ up. Time to get you home and get you settled in.”

Ms. Dulcie Sey: "Eva ere bout de Third Wurl Blonde?"

Margaret Juliet Bailey — Mon, 09 Jan 2012 13:30:01 UT

Halloo mi precious fans! Ow hall uno folks doin? Me ope sey uno iz all halright.

Well, de Halliday season iz halmost pon it way, an hevry badie feelin anxious 'cause

de economy is at a standstill.

Lorks, mi dears, me no knoe wey fi tell huno, de Politician dem a skylark pon de job. Ongly God

cyan elp we. One ting is good dough eh, in dese times peple need plenty counseling an dat's

whey Ms. Dulcie come in. Praise God!

But fuss, mi haffi tell uno bout dese developments dat me an Hingrid was chattin bout.

When peple tink bout Jamaica dem rarely tink sey Jamaican haff blonde peple...but you knoe,

we do. We hall haff peple who speak German, Chinese any any odder language yu cyan tink

bout. Anyhow, what mek dis convasation so disturbin is dat de Hingrid, she waz tellin me bout

dis girl wey hevry badie chat bout. Me sey, dem chat de poor gal bad yu nuh......!

Dem cyall ar wan dumb blonde, because she is very naive an sweet. Dem say ow she haff

implants an look like Barbie. Not ongly does she hact blonde, she is a real third wurl Jamaican

blonde. Uno eva see a Third Wurl Blonde Yet?

They do hexist..... Me an Ms. Hortenson from de Geneological Society get fed hup wid dem pickin de gal

hapart, so has a goodwill heffort we trace de girl roots back to har ancesters dem inna Scotland,

Ireland and India, back to Jamaica, an aldough she is Jamaican,

de gal iz no phoney baloney, she no haff no ragga-ragga roots inna ar.....

Dem harrass de girle so much, dem mek ar haffi cyarry hon like market oman...What dem

hexpeck?

When yu push a person to de limit dem a go herupt pon yu.

Through she is Jamaican dem mussey believe she hidin are "ghetto" ways.

Most foreigners hexpect hall minorities to be "ghetto".

Hingrid tell me sey, dem cyall ar de "Valley Girl" 'cause she act like a blonde, she talk like a

blonde an she tink like a blonde. You know what is heven stranger.....? She has no clue.

She seriously thinks she is de norm.

Mi no knoe why peple iz so unkind, God mek hevrybady diffrent an I firmly believe sey

peple is a sum hoff dem surroundings. Me no like ow dem pick ar apart at all.

Fuss, dem chat ow she skinny an look malnutrition. Den, she gain wan hole heap a weight, an

den dem chat ow she fat an tubby-tubby. Dem pick pon ar like a crow pickin at a dead caucus.

Hall me haffi sey bout de hole gossipy affair iz dat inna Jamaica we haff hall kina peple, an dem

juss grow az Jamaican. But, wen dem go a fareign, if dem look likkle bit diffrent from de

haverage Jamaican, dem get a h-a-a-r-d way to go, an dat is wrong!

'Cause wen me ere dis girle chile talk, she is strictly Jamaican, so why dese custed roonkus-

poonkus peple no leff ar alone an mine dem bizness?

You knoe why dem won't mine dem bizness? 'Cause if dem no chat bout she...Dem no haff

nuttin helse fi chat bout. Dem fi knoe sey, God iz listenin an tekin notes, so wen dem is on an

hexpress trip to hell, dem muss rememba sey, is thru dem waz a fass inna simady bizness

why.....

Dat's hall Ms. Dulcie haffi sey pon de subjeck.

Me juss tell Hingrid dat gossipin iz not a good pastime an she muss hexercize ar own mind pon

de situation. Me hallways tell peple, try travelin a mile in de person shoes yu chattin bout, an

see ow it feel. Den, yu will haff a hole new parspective.

An to Ms. Blondie, hall me haffi sey iz, "You go girle! Blondes have more fun, and Jamaican blondes haff de bes a

both wurls. So, cheer hup, de bes iz yet to come!"

Till nex time, stay sweet an be good!

Dulcimer Peaches Robothom

Tags: Ms. Dulcie Sey: "Eva ere bout de Third Wurl Blonde?"

Christmas in Jamaica

Mon, 19 Dec 2011 13:30:00 UT

Christmas in Jamaica

This is Only a Love Test - Memoirs Of An Illegal Alien Part 73

illegal alien — Mon, 19 Dec 2011 13:30:00 UT

The phone was ringing. I did not want to pick it up. I had just gotten into bed after a night of work and partying. I looked at the clock radio and it was 5:30 Am. I thought to myself, who would call this early in the morning? Who is actually up this early? The phone was on ring number 5, and at ring 7 it would go to the answering machine. I put the pillow over my head and waited.

"Can one of you please pick up the phone?” it was my mother.

I should have known it was her. She was always up early doing things around the house. She would water her plants, have a cup of coffee and make breakfast for my father.

I was hoping Sue would pick up the phone but I remember she was at Sidney for the night. Our mother typically does not call this early. I had to cover for Sue.

"Hello”, I was half sleeping still

"Are you an idiot?" it was my mother. There were no pleasantries.

I was now awake.

"What happened?"

"Don't play like you don't know. Do you take me for a blasted fool? When were you going to tell us you broke up with Rosa?" she asked.

I was now fully awake. It was 3 weeks after the break up and I had not said anything to my mother. I was waiting for the right moment. When that was I did not know.

The relationship my mother and Rosa was part of what delayed me telling her we broke up. They used to talk often, but not as much since Rosa moved to Orlando. In fact she was complaining to me the last few weeks that Rosa has not called her in a while. I did not say anything to her when she complained.

"I was going to..." I started to reply but got cut off.

"You are lying. I know you too long to know when you are lying."

She was right but I had to try and make a defense.

"But..." she cut me off again.

"Don't try and make an excuse. You heard me asking for Rosa for weeks. You could have said something. If it was not for Sue I am not sure I would have heard anything about this break-up," she responded.

I was caught off guard. I did not know that Sue knew. She was busy the last few weeks with the semester ending and all the school work she had to finish. I was going to tell her too as I knew eventually she would find out.

The conversation continued.

My mother was angry. It was almost like Rosa was her daughter. I was her "daughters" boyfriend. Her next statement drove home that point.

"Why did you have to go cheat on her?" my mother asked.

"What, are you talking about?"

"Are you going to lie about that too?"

"But I never...", she cut me off again.

“You are just like your father, cheating on a good woman. The apple did not fall too far from the tree”, she was scolding me.

I was getting really upset. I could not believe this is happening. My mother was "tracing" me off without hearing my side of the story.

In my mind I was cursing but had to be respectful. When all is said and done this is my mother. Her experience with my father is how she expected every relationship to be.

My mother kept talking and even mentioned that she thinks my father is back to his old ways. He was flirting with the nurses in his sick state and she thinks he is having an affair with one of the nurses at his doctor’s office. She then talked about how hurt she is over my behavior. She was crying.

It was the perfect time to say something.

"When did you talk to Rosa?", I asked. I wanted to get to the truth about this rumor of me cheating on her.

"I spoke to her yesterday night", she replied.

"And she said I cheated?" , I asked.

"She did not have to say it. She said you did not even give a fight when she said the relationship should end. She said you seemed eager to end the relationship. It was like you had someone waiting in the wings." My mother responded.

Okay so she only thinks I am cheating, I thought to myself.

It was weird having this conversation about my relationship with my mother but I wanted to clear my reputation.

"You keeping it a secret from us does seem like you are hiding something"

“But...” I was trying to get a word in. She cut me off again.

"I have to go. Your father will be up soon and I have to make his breakfast."

I was in a daze. I could not go back to sleep.

I was now reliving the break-up. Trying to remember my reaction and what I said. I was parsing through every word I remembered saying that night. There was nothing I could think that could give Rosa the impression that I was cheating. I did not give a “fight” but I just thought it was time. I had more to lose in this relationship so why would I jeopardize it by cheating.

I was getting tired playing back everything in my head. I fell asleep. It was a restless sleep as the events on my mind was now in my dreams.

I dreamt I was at my wedding, getting married to Rosa. I was waiting at the altar. My mother was beaming with a big smile sitting on the front row in the church. My father was beside her. My sisters were in the bridal party. My best man was Seth, and Rosa’s cousin was in the groom’s party. I could not remember who else was in groom’s party. What I remember is that we were waiting for Rosa to arrive at the church. She kept us waiting for what seemed forever. Her mother left her seat to check on her. She came back to her seat and still no Rosa. We waited for a while longer. Then the song, ‘Here comes the Bride' started to play.

Rosa came walking down the aisle.

As soon as she reached me she was smiling through her veil.

The pastor started the ceremony. When he got to the part where he asked if I took her as my wife, I said 'I do'

Next it was Rosa's turn.

She hesitated and looked at me.

"I don’t, you cheating bastard"

She ran out the church.

I woke up sweating.

++++++++++++++++++

I wanted to talk to Sue but she had a few more days before the semester ended. Should I confront her about what she told our mother?

My conscience said; no wait till she was finished with school, but my bruised ego that was upset about the lies of me cheating on Rosa, said yes.

I will confront her tomorrow.

++++++++++++++++++

The next morning I awoke a little earlier than normal before Sue left for school. As I got to her door, she spoke before I could say a word.

“Good Morning. I am glad you are up. I have something to tell you. I am going to Orlando to stay with Rosa this weekend", Sue stated.

I was caught off guard.

Sue continued, "I don't care what is going on between you and her right now. She is a friend and that will continue even if you two are no longer together."

"What did Rosa say about the reason we broke up?” I asked Sue.

Sue always gave a straight answer.

"She thinks you are cheating and didn't believe you wanted to continue the relationship”, she responded.

"But I was not cheating on her. I wanted the relationship to continue. Why would she think I was cheating?" I asked.

"She mentioned to me that one of her friends saw you out at a club dancing with another girl 2 days after you broke up with her."

I was silent.

"Is it true I was out but I was not cheating."

I could not lie. It was true. Steven and I “partied” almost every night after work. I typically find a girl to dance with when I am out. If not Steven would bring one to me. It probably was not a wise move to go out partying after a break up with someone you almost married.

"I needed to get my mind off things”, I tried a weak defense. “I did not want to break up. You know I loved her. You also know what is at stake."

"So why didn't you try to work it out with her?", Sue asked.

"She seemed like she really wanted to end it. I did not want to beg", I replied.

"She was testing you. We girls do that from time to time."

"Test?" I asked.

"Yes it was a test."

This had to be a bad joke. I was shaking my head. This whole situation is crazy. I was now paranoid. Was she using Sue and my mother as a part of this test?

"Do you have to go to Orlando?"

"Yes", Sue shot back.

"Why, I suppose you are a part of this test."

"I am not. I just need a break."

"Do you have to go?"

"Yes."

"Sue, can you please not go... for me?"

"No. I am going!"

(Silence)

Then Sue dropped a bombshell, “Sidney asked me to marry him. I need someone to talk to.”

Granny Ghetta Talks about The Birds & The Bees

Margaret Juliet Bailey — Mon, 19 Dec 2011 13:25:00 UT

Old Fashioned Jamaicans are known for their British reserved manner and ambivalence to discuss certain private matters as if it were ordinary news. Therefore, most parents find themselves in a "pickle" when they have to discuss such subjects as Adolescence, Sexuality and Sex.

The mere thought makes them sweat bricks and start reaching for every encyclopedia imaginable to brave the subject of the birds and the bees. Although, Human Reproduction is taught in most schools, the information is taught in such a clinical manner that children and
teens rarely focus. They only become interested, once they have been catapulted into a personal situation.

In the old days in Jamaica, many subjects were taboo, such as menstruation, sex, homosexuality, divorce and disease.

However, my Granny Gheeta was not fearful to broach any subject. Her philosophy in life was, "It is better your children hear the cold, hard facts from relatives who care, than to get the wrong translations from people outside on the streets".

When the time came for me to hear about "The birds and the bees", all the adults seemed to tap dance around the subject, or they gave you a casual remark like, "Well, now that you are a woman, you know what can happen, right?"

I usually just nodded in unison, because I really did not want to rehash the intricate details and I could somehow sense their embarrassment, so it created an awkward tone for all concerned.

Granny Gheeta was always the type of person who felt it necessary to get to the bottom of any matter.
On visits, she would casually grill her grandchildren, "So, what do you girls and boys know about the birds and the bees?"

I would cleverly answer, "Granny, the bees pollinate the flowers and trees, while the birds sit on top of the trees and lay eggs."

She would remark, "That's very nice Magli, but I was not actually referring to birds and bees, I was talking about S-E-X."

Everyone grasped. The shyness reflected in all our eyes, and we were especially embarrassed because our ancient grandmother
was about to embark on a topic that was considered "hush-hush".

Granny continued, "When a boy likes a girl, and they are attracted to one another, feelings get in the way, and anything can happen."

"Anything like what Granny?" I questioned.

"Well, the boy may become "touchy-feely" and it leads to a kiss, and then, they sleep together. If they are not careful, the girl could end up with a baby."

My male cousins would remark, surprisingly, "Wow! All that happens from a touch?"

Granny answered, "Yes, in a matter of speaking."

Then, she would pause and tell us that was enough information for the day. Part II of her conversation would convene on our next visit.
We were all flabbergasted by the information she gave us, as the ideas milled about our brains. We decided it was not safe to touch each other. As we went to school, and conducted our lives, we shunned members of the opposite sex for fear of becoming "preggers".
My male cousins no longer viewed girls as harmless, helpless creatures. They had suddenly becoming ogres who had the ability to multiply and make their lives "icky".

We anticipated our next session with Granny with great anxiety, because we all wanted to know how a kiss or touch could lead to such great responsibility.

On our next visit to Granny's house, she was ready and prepared with dolls to show us what really happens.

Granny would say, "Here is Ken and Barbie, they like each other a lot. Ken tells Barbie he loves her, she thinks he is nice. They kiss,
they sleep together (Granny put the two dolls together in an embrace), and then if Barbie doesn't take special vitamins, and if Ken isn't careful....Nine months later, there could be a baby. Therefore, save all the "hugging up" and kissing up" until you are married....Okay?"

In unison, we all answered "Okay", a bit disappointingly. We thought Granny was going to divulge much more details, but to our chagrin, she explained the birds and the bees to us in dramatic Granny Stlye. After her daring illustration, we pretty much had a general idea of what the consequences were, if we had unprotected or casual sex.

When it came time for menstruating, Granny would separate the girls from the boys and din into our little brains, "Sweethearts, the whole world does not have to know about your present in the red package. It is personal and private. You should handle everything regarding this time of the month, very discreetly. Consider it a secret between you and God."

Granny had a way of making the most intricate of subjects seem so dainty and interesting with her anecdotes.

We all wondered "cluelessly" about the red package, but as Granny continued to talk we realized it was her code word
for "menses".

She spoke to us of proper disposal of feminine items surrounding this "unclean" time, explaining to us that we would should not participate in strenuous sports, or be in male company at that time. Granny also explained that if a girl or woman was experiencing her time of month and someone passed away, she should not attend the funeral.

Granny Gheeta taught us that monthly episodes, and sexual interludes were not to be taken lightly and we must prepare and take care of our bodies accordingly. Granny promoted the Cleopatra method to life. She felt that a woman had to take care of herself with a little more effort after her time of the month, and before and after intimacies. She encouraged us to oil and fragrance ourselves in order to rebuke negative vibes and impurities.

She commented, " Women, young and old should always smell as fresh as a rose."

I often used to view my Granny as a dramatist with her long "soliloquys" of life, and her explanations on how to do things properly. But, as an adult, I realize, those were priceless lessons taught to me by my Grandmother Gheeta. Today, so many children and adolescents are left up on their own to figure things out. Along the way, their hygiene is neglected, the girls end up barefoot and pregnant, and the boys became "Baby Daddies" which they are not ready for. Within a small frame of time in history, a generation of delinquents become created, and due to the impossible odds, their lives become stagnant.

Granny usually ended her speeches saying, "God takes care of the birds, the bees and human beings. But since we humans are more intelligent he expects more from us. So we must exercise caution when exploring the concept of The Birds & The Bees. A little bit of fun today, could cause a world of remorse later."

In other words, women and men should not waste their time with frivolous liaisons and relationships. If decent futures are not intertwined in these connections, it would have been insignificant and sometimes we are left with unexpected burdens......

Tags: Granny Gheeta Talks about The Birds & The Bees

Twelve Days of Christmas Jamaican style

Mon, 19 Dec 2011 12:30:00 UT

It Christmas and you need a good Jamaican style Christmas carol. Get into Christmas spirit with our version on Twelve Days of Christmas Jamaican style. It includes many famous Jamaican foods. We hope that you enjoy The 12 Days of Christmas Jamaican style.

On the first day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Yummy Ackee Patty.

On the second day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Two Cocoa Bread,
And Yummy Ackee Patty.

On the third day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Three Coconut Gizzadas,
Two Cocoa Bread,
And Yummy Ackee Patty.

On the fourth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Four Sugar Buns,
Three Coconut Gizzadas,
Two Cocoa Bread,
And Yummy Ackee Patty.

On the fifth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Five Bottles of Ting,
Four Sugar Buns,
Three Coconut Gizzadas,
Two Cocoa Bread,
And Yummy Ackee Patty.

On the sixth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Six Breadfruits Roasting,
Five Bottles of Ting,
Four Sugar Buns,
Three Coconut Gizzadas,
Two Cocoa Bread,
And Yummy Ackee Patty.

On the seventh day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Seven Green Bananas Boiling,
Six Breadfruits Roasting,
Five Bottles of Ting,
Four Sugar Buns,
Three Coconut Gizzadas,
Two Cocoa Bread,
And Yummy Ackee Patty.

On the eighth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Eight Escovitch fish a- frying,
Seven Green Bananas Boiling,
Six Breadfruits Roasting,
Five Bottles of Ting,
Four Sugar Buns,
Three Coconut Gizzadas,
Two Cocoa Bread,
And Yummy Ackee Patty.

On the ninth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Nine Johnny Cakes cooling,
Eight Escovitch fish a- frying,
Seven Green Bananas Boiling,
Six Breadfruits Roasting,
Five Bottles of Ting,
Four Sugar Buns,
Three Coconut Gizzadas,
Two Cocoa Bread,
And Yummy Ackee Patty.

On the tenth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Ten Piece of Pork jerking,
Nine Johnny Cakes cooling,
Eight Escovitch fish a- frying,
Seven Green Bananas Boiling,
Six Breadfruits Roasting,
Five Bottles of Ting,
Four Sugar Buns,
Three Coconut Gizzadas,
Two Cocoa Bread,
And Yummy Ackee Patty.

On the eleventh day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Eleven Fruit cakes baking,
Ten Piece of Pork jerking,
Nine Johnny Cakes cooling,
Eight Escovitch fish a- frying,
Seven Green Bananas Boiling,
Six Breadfruits Roasting,
Five Bottles of Ting,
Four Sugar Buns,
Three Coconut Gizzadas,
Two Cocoa Bread,
And Yummy Ackee Patty.

On the twelfth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Twelve Red Stripes fi toasting,
Eleven Fruit cakes baking,
Ten Piece of Pork jerking,
Nine Johnny Cakes cooling,
Eight Escovitch fish a- frying,
Seven Green Bananas Boiling,
Six Breadfruits Roasting,
Five Bottles of Ting,
Four Sugar Buns,
Three Coconut Gizzadas,
Two Cocoa Bread,
And Yummy Ackee Patty!

Ms. Dulcie Sey: "A Wey Dem A Create Hexcitement Far?"

Dulcimer Peaches Robothom — Mon, 12 Dec 2011 13:30:01 UT

Howdy Do to hall a mi fans dem....Me a sen praises an blessins to hall hof uno, hespecially afta de custed Irene carry hon like wan viraga....Lorks haff his mercy, what a sitiation do eh?

Hanyhow mi glad sey hall a uno hallright. Praise Jesus sey fi me zinc roof still a heng pon it hinges!

Hanyhoo, mi get nuff letta since de dreadful hurricane I guess hall de people dem do fi pass de time iz write letta.

Well, mi get wan letta from wan young girl who tell me bout wan hexperience she haff when she visit foreign.

Here goes:

Dear Ms. Dulcimina:

My parents gave me a trip last summer to visit New York. I was most excited because I had only heard about the wonderful architecture, great dining and amazing stores, so needless to say, I was over the moon when I received their gift. Within a few days I was off on my solo adventure in the Big Apple.

The first day there, I decided to visit Madame Roullard's Department store located in a very prestigious part of town. While there, I began to feel a bit queasy and unwell. I don't know if it was the excitement of running up and down, anyway I sat for a moment to rest. It was at that moment I realized, someone had placed items in my oversized tote, unbeknownst to me. I was frantic, I quickly marched up to the cash register where two blonde women were sitting and I told them that I had found the items in my bag. They looked at me with blank stares, and at first, they seemed as if it was nothing to be concerned about, then in a matter of seconds, I was flanked by several security guards and other store personnel.

I became very upset and concerned, because it dawned on me that these women were about to create a situation, that was unfounded.

The next thing I knew, they were rifling through my bag, and the diamond encrusted make-up bag I had in there, suddenly became confiscated. They accused me of taking it from the store. I knew then, that they were reaching for straws because the bag was a gift from my god parents who are celebrities in Jamaica.

I was panick stricken, and quickly surmised that they were trying to make an example out of me. By this time a large crowd had gathered, and they were mostly of the caucasian persuasion , which made for embarrassing moments. I quickly decided to make a long distance call home, but I was unable to get through. I was barraged by several questions, and each time I explained to them that I just found the items in my bag. I was mad at myself, because my initial reaction was to just leave the items on the chair of the department I had rested in, however, my thoughtfullness and stern Jamaican upbringing kicked in, and decided to do the right thing by alerting the management. Instead, it turned out to be an albatross around my neck.

Before I knew it, the Police had been called and the matter had escalated to drama and bacanal. I tried reaching my parents once again. This time I reached my father, who thought my story so elaborate, he kept thinking I was pulling a prank or that my imagination had been running wild again. My mother was busy in her garden attending to her azaelas and did not want to be disturbed, so by this time I realized I was in a pickle. My Dad eventually found out what I was saying was not a figment of my imagination and soon decided to get to the crux of the matter from his end, but things took time, especially when dealing from a long distance.

I had hoped by the time I ended my phonecalls that the matter would have disappeared and they would have accepted the error of their ways. Instead, the matter grew worse, they escorted me to this room away from the retail area, where the policemen began to strip down and proceeded to come near me, I told them that if they touched me, I would slit my wrists, but they would not listen, and so I did........

Fade to Black.............

It took the act of me slitting my wrist for them to realize that I was innocent and telling the truth all along. As for the matter of those policemen, I feel that it was a "cooked up" scenario between the store and them. The store created scams by getting innocent, naive, young girls into compromising situations, and when they were cornered, they brought in individulas to act on their ill intentions.

Needless to say, my family was quite livid about the situation and are suing the Retail store for defamation of character and endangerment of a minor. My family proved that the makeup bag was given to me by my godparents, who were actually patrons of the store in question. However, they have since decided to boycott the store along with their friends.

I have been so traumatized from this ordeal that I view the world and people so differently from how I was raised. I was taught from a little girl that America is a country where people are innocent until presumed guilty, however, I felt that I had been subjected to an evil witch hunt.

Thank goodness my life was spared, but what if I hadn't the courage to make such a bold move........????????

My life would have been utterly distroyed, simply because I was a minority.

Dear Treated With Disdain:

Ms. Dulcie is so sarry sey yu was treated like wan animal. Mi cyan't believe sey peple iz so hignorant inna de year 2011.

Hif yu waz tryin fi pull a fass wan, yu would juss run thru di door a no sey nuttin to dem. Sumtimes wen peple try fi do de right ting, iz a blista to dem soul....eh?

Ms. Dulcie believe sey dat yu did look too stocious an refine, so a fi dem wey fi try bring yu dung. Mi sarry sey yu did haffi urt yu self so dem lissen to yu. Iz a shem an disgrace pon dem.

Dem de custed sales gal behine de counta dem need sum sensitivity training, dem need fi use dem common sense. If simady a tief, yu tink sey dem a go tap a counta an infarm yu. Dem dummer dan wan ox.

Me believe sey dem waz motivated by prejudice, a through yu young dem tink sey dem could pull a fass one. Dem is de wan who should heng dem head in shame an not you.

Yu knoe, me halways tell Missa Fowla sey, sex, drugs an rock 'n' roll mek de wul go rung, an him halways a ansa me sey, mi haff wan one track mine. But you knoe what? Me halways right! So halleluiah fi de wan track mine!

Dem outta horder bad! Mi ope sey yu fambly "raccamasacca" dem every which wey dem cyan. Doughn't worry, Miss Dulcie behine you hall de way one million percent.

Aldough mi love Merka, some a dem peple cyan be so unkind an fulla ridiculous prejudice, an hiff dem knoe dem history dem will fine hout sey we hall connected pon some kina geneological level.....Dem fulla foolishness...Mi no knoe why dem a create hexcitement pon innocent peple far. Anyhow, no mek dis sitiation taint yu view a de wul, dere is still plenty hof good people hout dere.

Stay sweet an believe in yu God. Till nex time.

Dulcimer Peaches Robothom

from Oracabessa and Westmoreland

Tags: Ms. Dulcie Sey: "A Wey Dem A Create Hexcitement Far?"

Herman Cain and Gloria Cain Squabble (Jamaican Style)

Joelle "Wendy" Wright — Mon, 05 Dec 2011 13:30:01 UT

Imagine if Herman Cain was Jamaican and had to face a Jamaican wife after the last revelation of a long term affair. How would that conversation unfold? Well, I have the tape of the squabble between the two. This is an exclusive.

Gloria: Herman! Herman! Is what di backside mi a hear pan NBC yah soh!

Herman Cain: (running in the room) What yuh hearing love sponge? Mi stock an mi poll numba gaan up again? Mi ratings a sell aff?

Gloria: (Boxes him across his face) Who di backside is Ginger?!

Herman Cain: (Reflecting) Ginger? What yuh talking bout? Afta mi noh know nobaddy name soh! Unless a di Ginga inna di battam a di fridge yuh a talk bout.

Gloria: Yuh tek mi fi fool Herman?! Yuh bloody well know seh a noh dat deh Ginga mi a talk bout. Explain to mi who is dis white ooman name Ginger who deh pan telivisian a talk bout yuh gi har how much money fi mine har! An how fi har head tan betta dan fi mi an mi a yuh wife?!

Herman Cain: Yuh hair waan crème Gloria..dats why it fayva budness. But mek a explain dis ting to yuh, mi one an only cheese Pizza, wid pepperoni pan di top. Ginger is a lady mi did run into when mi did goh Colorado Springs pan business. Shi si mi inna di hallway inna di hotel and beg mi a train fare. Troo mi hawt soff, mi gi har $2.00 and tell har fi kip di change. Is what shi a seh bout mi now?

Gloria: Train fare?! (Slaps him with a pillow) Yuh si eidiat mark pan mi farrid Herman! Mi know fi a fact seh train noh run a Colorado Springs! Shi seh yuh an har deh fi TIRTEEN Years Herman! A tirteen years shi a ride train fah?! Seh bet a tek dah lamp shade yah an bruck yuh head inna two!! (Drapes him up by his collar) Tell mi who is dis Ginga ooman mi seh!

Herman Cain: (Sweating) Ah-rite..ah-rite mi ago talk di troot an nutten but di troot soh help mi GODFAADA’s Pizza. Mi did ago surprise yuh, but mi did mean fi tell yuh seh mi fine mi long, loss sista by mi maada side. Yuh noh si di resemblance?

Gloria: (Boxes him across his face) Herman, is a white ooman! Which part a yuh an har a sista! An NO - mi noh si noh resemblance ! Fi har nose straight and fi yuh own spread weh an open up like fi jack-ass!

Herman Cain: Ahrite.. dis a di Gad hanest troot now. Is mi bredrin Bill Clinton tell mi fi set har up good fi him. Im noh waan Hillary know nutten bout har cause yuh know wah happen to im wid di big mout gyal, Monica Lewensyki. Slick Willy jus tell mi fi mek sure ANYTING shi waan .. mi muss give it to har - a coulda DEEP DISH Pizza - im seh geet to har.

Gloria: (Boxes him across his face) Tap call Bill name inna dis! Di ooman pan TV a call YOUR name .. all now shi noh mention nutten bout Bill Clinton! Yuh seem to bi giving har sinting deep and it noh have a blastid ting fi do wid Pizza!

Herman Cain: Gloria baby, can wi talk bout mi 9-9-9 plan, lovie? Mi can gi yuh 9 more million, fi put up wid mi fi 9 more years wid 9% intres!

Gloria: Mi have a 9-9-9 plan fi @ss. How about a gi yuh 9 minutes fi tek uh behine out yah an goh livewid yuh 9 skettel dem, before mi gi yuh 9 bloodkleet bax!

Herman Cain: Hole an deh Gloria. Do, nobadda bax mi again. Mi jawbone sore. Mi is a sarry smaddy. Mi did jus a try give aid to wan smaddy inna di 99%. Mi did a try do mi part fi stimulate di economy an mi goh get carelis an goh get miself stimulated by dis gravalitious ooman!

** inaudible**

Unfortunately the tape suddenly terminated at this point. But word is, Herman Cain has reached out to Newt Gingrich in order to get assistance in opening a revolving account at Tiffany’ s.

About the Writer
Wendy is an aspiring playwriter and the author of the book “A Soh Wi Do It!”. She is working on her second book "A Soh It Goh!" (Coming soon). Many of her ‘Jamaicanized’ stories and original sketches have been ‘viral’ on the Internet for several years. Many who have read her work has been known to laugh uncontrollably from the hilarious portrayal of the characters in the sketches. Wendy’s impressive writing portfolio includes the very funny Jamaicanized version of the Titanic, Cinderella (Punchinella) and most recently the sketch on the American Airline crash in Jamaica. Her work has been featured on the Jamaicans.com forums for over 12 years and enjoyed by many around the world.
Check out her website for more information on her books and appearances - http://www.ackeepodpublishing.com/

©Joelle C. Wright December 2nd, 2011

LIVE BROADCAST: Dancehall Star, Vybz Kartel escape (Satire)

Joelle "Wendy" Wright — Mon, 05 Dec 2011 13:30:01 UT

Reggae Dancehall star Vybz Kartel has been in police custody in Jamaica since October 1, while he awaits trail for two murder cases. This morning Boardlane TV received reports that the super star has escaped from his jail cell. The reports are that Kartel started a riot at the Horizon Adult Remand Centre in Jamaica early on Wednesday morning (November 30), and managed to escape with seven other inmates after holding officers at gunpoint. Boardlane TV is on location in an attempt to get to the bottom of this story.

Boardlane TV:

We are here at the Horizon Adult Remand correctional facility speaking to the head warden who was on duty this morning when the alleged escape occurred. Mister Jacobs, can you confirm or disprove that that prisoner, Adidja Palmer, AKA Vybz Kartel has escaped?

Warden Jacobs:

Kartel escape?!! Kiss mi neck! A weh yuh a seh to mi! (Waving frantically) OFFICA WILLIAMS, BLOW DI HARN, BLOW DI HARN— DI CAKE SOAP BWAY ESCAPE AN GET WEH!!

Boardlane TV:

Mister Jacobs, hold on a second. We are not sure if the reports are factual. MTV news, a foreign news outlet, reported that he even sent out a tweet to his fans this morning about his escape. I am just here to find out facts, sir. Is he here or not?

Warden Jacobs:

Lady, a weh di backside unu a waste mi time fah? Is he deh yah or is he nat deh yah? How mi fi know dat? Ah-rite, come wi goh dung a im cell goh check. But mi a warn yuh, when yuh reach dah cell deh, cova yuh nose cause in deh tink a p!ss. Dah bway deh noh stap p!ss up imself when wi a beat out im racko tail!

Boardlane TV:

Oh dear! That’s sounds horrible. (Walking along) So Mister Jacobs, how can you be the head of this facility and not be sure if one of your inmates escaped. Is that a sign of negligence on your part, sir?

Warden Jacobs:

Soh yuh noh tink big man fi sleep a night time?! (Kiss teet) Anyway, dis facility yuh si here mek outta di bess raw material money can buy weh import fram China. Nobaddy cyaan escapes fram yahsoh. An to how Kartel skin have every blastid cola inna di rainbow, bout im a coloring book, my guardsman dem can spot im a mile. Si di cell a come up.

Boardlane TV:

Ok, let’s see. For your sake I hope he is in there.

Warden Jacobs:

(Banging on the jail cell

) GAZA?! Weh yuh deh? Show yuh face, Mista Clorox bleach!!

Vybz Kartel:

(From under his bed)

Who dat a bawl out fi di Gaza! (Oh!)

Warden Jacobs:

Come fram undaneat di bombeet bed an come talk to dah news lady yah. Shi waan know if yuh escape dis marning.

Vybz Kartel:

(From under his bed

) Yow King, yuh noh si seh mi unda mi bed. Yuh cyaan jus tell di ooman seh mi noh escape YET (Oh!) Mi cyaan come out til when di sun set pan di wess dread. Di sun hat a bun out mi face to blurtseed. A ongly mi nose still bleach out star. Mi cyaan mek nohbaddy si mi soh iyah! (Oh!)

Boardlane TV:

It’s OK Mister Jacobs. We now know that he is still in custody. Let him stay.

Warden Jacobs:

(Banging on the jail cell

) GAZA, MI SEH FI GIT UP an come chat to di people mek dem know seh yuh noh deh pan Facebook an Tweaka!

Boardlane TV:

Tweaka? What the heck is “Tweaka”?

Warden Jacobs:

Noh yuh tell mi jus a while ago seh Kartel tweek sinting to di wukliss people dem weh a falla back a im. Di sinting pan computa man… a noh tweaka it name?

Boardlane TV:

Sir, that is “Twitter!” Mister Jacobs, let him stay. Clearly he does not want to be exposed to the sun. We can now confirm he has not escape. Do you know how this rumor became so wide spread?

Vybz Kartel:

(Chanting and singing

)

Check di dutty bway name Movado!

Man a gwaan like mi fren but dem a wish mi life en (oh!)

Troo im waan mi babby modda, im a try put mi inna hot wata (oh!)

Gaza a di teacha’s pet... when mi touch back a road, mi a di biggess tret.

Dem man deh noh stap tek di pizen dope but mi still a wash mi face wid di cake soap (oh!)

Boardlane TV:

That sounds like another hit song in the making, doesn’t it?

Warden Jacobs:

A bare fawt im a chat! Anyway, come aan now! Time unu an di news camera leave. Gaza deh yah! Go tell di whole worl dat! An tell MTV fi stay outta yaad business. Weh dem fi penetrate is fi fine out who kill Tupac an Biggie an den tek dat mek news.

Boardlane TV:

Well, this is Boardlane TV bringing you up to date news as we get them. The notorious Vybz Kartel is indeed safely secured under his bed at the Horizon Adult Remand Centre. Now back to regularly scheduled programming.

©Joelle C. Wright Novermber 30, 2011

A Parade of Stars of Jamaican Descent

Margaret Juliet Bailey — Mon, 21 Nov 2011 13:30:02 UT

Corbin Bleu - Photography by Paul Yanover

Jamaicans are known for their adventurous spirits and following their dreams wherever it takes them, therefore, it is no surprise to discover that there are celebrities who possess the best of both worlds with their foreign birth and Jamaican ancestry.

Here is a list of your favorite celebs who have proudly come from parents or grandparents who were born and raised in humble Jamaica, a third world country.

Naomi Campbell, Actress and Supermodel, was born on May 22, 1970 to a Jamaican mother and a Jamaican -Chinese father. She was raised in London, England where she was discovered by a fashion executive while shopping. She is the first multi-racial model to adorn the cover of French Vogue. Her acting credits include appearing on "The Cosby Show", "Coyote Ugly" and music videos by Michael Jackson, George Michaels and Jay-Z. She is currently part owner of the Fashion Cafe' and performs charitable works through organizations such as the Dalai Lama Foundation and Unesco.

Sheryl Lee Ralph, Actress, was born on December 30, 1956 in Waterbury, Connecticut to an African father and a Jamaican mother. She was raised in Mandeville, Jamaica and Long Island, New York. A graduate of Uniondale High School in Hempstead, New York and Rutgers University in New Jersey. Ms. Ralph received notoriety in the broadway production of "Dream Girls" in 1982. She has also starred in movies such as "Mighty Quinn", "Oliver & Company", "Mistress" and "The Flinstones". She is currently married to Pennsylvania State Senator Vincent Hughes and has two children.

Alicia Keys, Singer, Musician and Actress, was born on January 25, 1981 in New York, New York. Her mother Terri Augello, is Irish-Italian and her father, Craig Cook is Jamaican. Ms. Keys began playing piano at the tender age of seven, playing classical compositions such as Beethoven, Mozart and Chopin. At the age of 14, she composed her first song entitled "Butterflyz". She attended Columbia University, however, later opted to pursue a musical career instead. She has several albums to her credit, such as, "The Diary of Alicia Keys", "Songs In A Minor" and "Composition in Black and White". Her acting repretoire incudes, "Shaft", "Rear View Mirror" and "Dr. Doolittle 2". She is currently married to Producer Swiss Beatz and has one child.

Wentworth Earl Miller III, Actor, born on June 2, 1972 in Chipping Norton, Oxfordshire, England. His father Earl Miller II is a Lawyer Educator of Jamaican heritage, and his mother Ivy Marie Palm is a Special Education Teacher of Russian-French descent. He grew up in Brooklyn, New York where he atended Midwood High School. While at Midwood, he performed in their annual production of "Sing!" which instigated his desire to act. He later transferred from Midwood and then attended Quaker Valley Senior High School in Pennsylvania. After he graduated High School, he attended Princeton University where he became a Cartoonist for the school's newspaper. He also joined the "The Princeton Tigertones" where he sang baritone. After attending Princeton he realized he definitely wanted to pursue a performing career. Wentwort Miller is best known for his acting roles in "Buffy The Vampire Slayer", "ER" and "Popular". His movie credits include, "The Human Stain", "Underworld" and "Prison Break". He has also appeared in several of Mariah Carey's music videos. Mr. Miller is currently writing a screenplay in Chicago.

Dianne Abbot, British MP, Actress, Reporter, Broadcaster, Public Speaker and Politician. She was born on September 27, 1953 in Paddington, London, England. The daughter of Jamaican Immigrants who relocated to the United Kingdom. Her father was a Welder and her mother was a Nurse. She attended Harrow County Grammar School for Girls and Newnham College at the University of Cambridge. Ms. Abbot is the first Caribbean woman to be elected to British Parliament. She is the Founder of "Black Women Mean Business" and helped to form The Black Caucus within the Labour Party. Her career in Parliament includes serving on the House of Commons Treasury Select Committee and The Foreign Affairs Select Committee. She has also been instrumental in establishing a committee to investigate gun related crimes. Her motivation has come from prolific words spoken by her father, who told her, "In order to get on, you have to be not just as good as white people, but better." Some of her speaking engagements include Ivy League Universities such as Harvard. Ms. Abbot is divorced and has one child.

Congresswoman Yvette Clarke was born in Brooklyn, New York on November 21, 1964 to Jamaican parents. She is known as the authentic voice of Brooklyn. She received a scholarship to Oberlin College and a Honorary Doctorate Law Degree from St. Francis College. She has been the recipient of the prestigious APPAL/Sloan fellowship in Public Policy and Policy Analysis. She was elected to Congress in 2006, to the 11th Congressional District, serving Brownsville, Crown Heights, East Flatbush and Borough Park. She is currently in the 112th Congress and sits on the House Committee on Homeland Security and House Committee on Small Business. Her work for the House Education and Labour Committees has earned her the name of "After School Hero".

"Downtown Julie Brown",Dancer, Actress and Former MTV VJ, was born on August 27, 1959 in London, England to a Jamaican father, Valentine Brown and a White, English mother, Doreen Brown. Because her father was a member of the Royal Air Force, she travelled all over the world where she discovered dancing. In 1979, she was a participant in the Disco Dancing Championships, Dancer of "Top of the Pops", member of dance troop "Zoo" and appeared on the British childrens' program "Crackerjack". In the 80's she gained notoriety for being the effervescebt host of Club MTV, promoting her famous phrase, "Wubba! Wubba! Wubba!"
Her acting credits include appearances in movies such as, "Spy Hard", "Spring Break '83", "The Weird Al Show", "Ride", "Walker, Texas Ranger" and "Ru-Paul's Drag U". Ms. Brown is currently married to Producer and CEO of Vision Motor Corporation, Martin Schuermann. They have one child and reside in California.

Tyson Craig Beckford, Supermodel and Actor was born on December 19, 1970. His father is Jamaican of Panamanian descent, and his mother is Jamaican Chinese. He was raised in Rochester, New York where he attended Bay Trail Middle School and Pittsford Mendon High School. In 1992, he was discovered by a New York City Talent scout. Shortly thereafter, he was recruited by Ralph Lauren to represent the Company's Male Line of Polo sportswear. He has appeared on shows such as, "I'm a Celebrity! Get Me Outta Here!" and "The Oprah Winfrey Show". He has been an ardent supporter of the National RESPECT! Campaign against Domestic Violence, and the voice of Giverespect.org website. Mr. Beckford is currently the host of "Make Me a Supermodel". He resides in New Jersey with his 10 year old son.

Corbin Bleu Reives, Actor and Singer, born on February 21, 1989 in Brooklyn, New York, to a Jamaican father, David Reives and an Italian mother, Martha Reives. His father David Reives is an actor, therefore Mr. Bleu dropped the name Reives, so there would not be any confusion between his father's career and his. He started his acting career at the age of two years old, appearing in advertisements such as, Nabisco, Hasbro, and Life Cereal. Corbin Bleu attended the Preparatory School Medical Program at Johns Hopkins University. He is best known for his role as Chad in "Walt Disney's High School Musical". His first album, "Another Side" was released in May 2007 by Hollywood Records.

Karim Dule' Hill, Actor and Tap Dancer, otherwise known as Dule' Hill. He was born on May 3, 1975 in Orange, New Jersey, to Jamaican Parents. His father is an Entrepreneur and his mother an Educator. His dancing career began at three years old when he enrolled at the Wildey School of Dance in East Orange, New Jersey. He also attended Sayreville War Memorial High School and Seton Hall University. His first acting role was on Broadway in "The Tap Dance Kid", where he was Savion Glover's Understudy. After he gained more experience, he appeared in other musicals such as, "Shenandoah", "Little Rascals" and "Black and Blue". His rise to fame occurred when he played the starring role in "Bring in Da Noise, Bring in Da Funk" on Broadway. His film appearances include "Sugar Hill", "She's All That", "The Ditch Digger's Daughter". Mr. Hill is most remembered for his starring role on the T.V. show "Psych" along with James Roday. He is married to Canadian, Actress, Model and Dancer, Nicole Lyn.

Harold George Belafonte, Jr., Calypso singer, American Singer, Songwriter, Actor and Social Activist was born on March 1, 1927 at Lying-in Hospital, Harlem, New York. His mother, Melvina Love was a Housekeeper of Jamaican descent. His father, Harold George Belafonte. Sr. was from Martinique and worked as a Chef in the Royal Navy. Harry Belafonte lived in Jamaica with his Jamaican grandmother for eight years of his life. After returning to America, he attended George Washington High School and then joined the Navy, where he served in World War II. He attended a performance by Sidney Poitier which lead him to the decison of becoming an actor. He then enrolled in acting classes. His musical career also began in the club where he performed in order to raise the funds for acting classes. Mr. Belafonte has become famous for songs such as, "Matilda", "Calypso" and the famous "Banana Boat Song". He has recorded songs in several genres, including Blues, Show Tunes, Folk and American Standards. His T.V. and film appearances are, "The Tonight Show with Belafonte", "The Muppet Show", "Buck and The Preacher", "Uptown Saturday Night" and "White Man's Burden". He has been a Civil Rights Activist, supporting the Civil Rights Movement of the 50's and a Humanitarian who has loaned his celebrity status to help organizations such as The Campaign against HIV/Aids and the Cancer Society for Prostrate Cancer Awareness. He is currently a member of the Trans Africa Forum and The Institute of Policy Studies. He is married to Pamela Belafonte and has four children.

Christopher "Kid" Reid, Actor, Comedian and Rapper. He was born in the Bronx, New York to a Jamaican father and a Irish mother. He attended Bronx High School of Science and graduated from Lehman College. He is better known as part of the 80's musical, hip-hop duo called Kid 'N' Play. He has worked as a Stand-Up Comedian, appearing on shows such as, "Your Big Break", "Martin", "Sister, Sister" and "It's Showtime at the Apollo". Recently, he has written the theme song for "Real time with Bill Maher" and has made guest appearances on "Celebcadabra", "The Dawn and Drew Show" "Comics Unleashed" and playing the role of "The Rhymer" on Nickelodeon's "Supah Ninjas".

Ben Gordon, Member of the NBA and Professional Basketball Player, He was born on April 4, 1983 in London, England to Jamaican parents. He migrated to the United States as an infant, where he resided in Mount Vernon, New York. He attended Mount Vernon High School and the University of Connecticut. While playing basketball at the University of Connecticut, he was drafted by the Chicago Bulls in the 2004 NBA Draft. He played for the Chicago Bulls from 2004-2009, representing the United States in the 2003 Pan American Games. His career highlights include, being the NBA Sixth Man of the year in 2005, NBA All Rookie in 2004 and NCAA Champion in 2004. In 2009 Ben Gordon signed a five year deal with the Detroit Pistons, continuing his role as a high scoring athlete. Recently, he announced that he intends to represent Great Britain in the 2012 Olympics.

Trevor Tahiem Smith, Jr, also known as "Busta Rhymes", Rapper, Producer and Actor. He was born on May 20, 1972 in Red Hook, Brooklyn, New York to Jamaican parents Geraldine Green and Trevor Smith. He attended George Westinghouse Information and Technology High School, where some of his classmates were Jay-Z, DMX and The Notorious B.I.G. He later transferred to Uniondale High School and graduated in 1990. Busta Rhymes became famous with his first song, "Woohah! Got You all In Check!" from his album, "The Coming". He followed up his success with two more albums, "When Disaster Strikes" and "Will Reign Supreme". To date, Busta Rhymes has produced nine albums and is currently working on his tenth, called, "The Chemo". He has received six nominations for BET Hip Hop Awards and nine Grammy Nominations. His most recent endeavour includes recording a song entitled "Drummer Boy" on Justin Beiber's album, "Under The Mistletoe". He lives in New York and has three children.

Kim Victoria Fields, Actress, born on May 12, 1969 in New York City, New York. She recently learned of her Jamaican heritage. Her mother is actress, Chip Fields. Kim Fields attended Burbank High School and Pepperdine University. She acted in school plays and got her first starring role in 1979, playing the lovable "Tootie" on "Facts of Life". Her other acting parts include appearances on "Living Single" and "Good Times". She is currently participating in stage work, and directing movies produced by her production company, Victory Productions. Kim Fields is divorced and has one child.

Tonya Maxine Williams, Canadian Actress, Writer, Producer and Director was born in London, England on July 12, 1958 to Jamaican parents. As a young child she lived in London and Jamaica, when she turned four years old her mother and her migrated to Ontario, Canada. In her teen years, living in Canada, she modeled for Eaton's Catalogues and danced on a television series called, "Boogie!" She was also crowned, "Miss Black Ontario". She achieved national notoriety in the daytime drama, "The Young and The Restless", playing Dr. Olivia Barber Winters from May 1990 - Present. Ms. Willliams's career highlights include being a host on the Canadian Childrens' Show , "Polka Dot Door", appearing in shows and movies such as, "Check It Out" "Generations" and "A Very Brady Christmas". She has also won the NAACP Image Award for Outstanding actress in a Daytime Drama Series. She is a member of Sigma Gamma Rho Sorority, Founder and President of the Toronto Reel World Film Festival, Contributing Writer and Executive Producer of "The Tonya Lee Williams Gospel Jubilee".

After reading this enthralling list of amazing Public Profiles, I am sure many people will be astounded to find out that the most dynamic and intriguing people can bloom from the most ordinary folks or unpretentious places. Their successes only affirms that you can take any man or woman out of their country, but you can't take their upbringing and the willingness to achieve from them. One thing is for certain, that with God's favour and a keen sense of self a person can go from the abyss of life straight to the top.

(Biographical information collected from Wikipedia)

Tags: A Parade of Stars of Jamaican Descent

Granny Gheeta and I Discuss Political Turmoil

Margaret Juliet Bailey — Mon, 21 Nov 2011 13:30:02 UT

People say that Politics makes the world go round, however, in today's tumultuous political arena it is difficult for nations to find suitable leaders, who offer solutions to their governmental maladies.

Granny and I often discussed the ills that plagued the world and one of the subjects we often talked about was Leadership. She felt that quality was lacking in today's Leaders because they always seemed self serving. The Politicians conveyed perceptions of being more concerned with prestige and accolades as opposed to really hearing the plights of the people and finding sound solutions.

Granny would ramble on and on saying, "As the world evolves today, Governments are slowly crumbling because their constituents want a better way of life. They want candidates who can deliver on their promises and not succumb to the pressures of the opposing parties. Nations want Leaders who will forge ahead even when confronted with opposition, instead of sitting on the fence when it comes to pertinent matters. A Government that is not proactive slowly dissipates."

When Granny Gheets spoke passionately about political matters, I often felt as if she should be saluted because she was always so convincing with her arguments. If she were up for nomination, I would have voted for her.

Presidents and Prime Ministers of our society today are becoming overwhelmed by the bureacracy served up by their Parliaments and Congress that they lose all zeal and tenacity, eventually relinquishing their power for a less stressful life. They find it hard to please all the people, all the time, and when they find viable solutions, it is always stone-walled by their colleagues.

Granny Gheeta often explained to me the personality it takes to be a Leader. She felt that a Leader in today's free world was required to have a thick skin and a determination to do right by the people no matter what the consequences were.

She would often remark, "These Politicians today are more concerned with being adored and schmoozed by the rich and famous, instead of stepping up to the podium and taking matters into their own hands. After all, that is what effective Leadership is all about. Sometimes it requires going against the grain, in order to achieve positive results, ultimately, citizens revolt against governments because they feel as if they are no longer living in a democracy and that their experiences do not matter. It is their way of being heard."

Granny was right, I equated her remarks to the relationship between children and parents. When children want attention, or for someone to listen, they act out or act up, and they eventually get noticed and attended to. In that instance, I realized that grown-ups were not that different from tempestuous children.

Granny Gheeta may not have been a worldly woman, but she basically understood the needs and wants of human nature. She understood that "The People" wanted to experience real change, solutions for a better way of living and a promising forecast for the future. They wanted sincere, honest and decent Politicians, not slippery, sly foxes. But,she also sympathized with the Politicians, because they dealt with challenges such as disrespect, misunderstandings, and lack of support on issues by the people they serve. These hurdles they experience help them to feel pessimistic about their tasks ahead, and discourages them from doing the best job possible."

Granny always emphasized, "A little encouragement goes a long way!"

She was certain that Politicians became ambivalent when confronted with hecklers, naysayer or haters . She believed in the way of Ghandi, "Change can only come with Peace and Patience." Granny emphasized, "If everyone concerned tried to stop showing each other up and cheer each other on instead, change and progress would happen overnight."

Now that I am older, I reminisce over Granny's words and realize how idealistic they sounded. Remarks that are easy to say, yet very difficult to accomplish. Politics has been plagued with controversy from the year of naught, but as we enter into a new era of world chaos, it has become more important for Leaders to band together to find real results and positive solutions for the concerns of the People.

Granny Gheets often expressed, "If Governments ran like well oiled machines, their countries' would only blossom and thrive from the unison".

I know that if Granny was alive today she would definitely be mortified at all the name calling and mud slinging that is dished out in the name of Political Campaigning. However, she would definitely comment from the sidelines with strong opinions. Somehow, I believe her words of wisdom are definitely circulating in the wind.......

Tags: Granny Gheeta and I Discuss Political Turmoil

Time To Let Go - Memoirs Of An Illegal Alien Part 72

illegal alien — Mon, 21 Nov 2011 13:30:00 UT

I loved my new routine of work and school. Most of my classes were late in the morning. I worked at night. I had time to run errands and do things I needed to do in the mornings at a time when most people were at work. I also could sleep later in the mornings if I chose to.

It was especially great because Rosa was not around to "use" me. I helped her move to Orlando and stayed the weekend. We went to Disney and our relationship started to feel like old times. Rosa was really happy. We spoke at least twice a week which was also strange. We were actually closer now that she was far away. Even though I missed the physical part of our relationship I enjoyed our conversations and the way we were rekindling our relationship.

I developed a close friendship with Steven, the Jamaican guy at work. He was an ex-basketball player for Florida International University. He came to the USA on a scholarship. He used to attend Kingston College (KC).

He was always bragging about KC and how they dominated school boy sports in Jamaica. I had nothing to brag about as Campion College won less popular sports like badminton, swimming and chess. He was very funny and was always "drawing cards" on me.

Steven was a womanizer and the store was where he found his “prey”. He would run to help any lady that came in the store and charm them. He would start a conversation showering his “prey” with compliments. This conversation would eventually lead to his conquest. Since we worked late nights it was not very busy in the store. He would disappear for hours to meet with his girlfriends. He would tell me about his parking lot escapades to avoid boyfriends and husbands. He had “girlfriends” of every kind; old, young, black, white, Hispanic. He would joke about being an equal opportunity lover.

He loved clubbing and would leave work and go straight to the club being that our shift sometimes ended early some days. The late nights/early mornings was the perfect to show up at the club looking “fresh” when everyone was winding down.

Steven talked me into going clubbing with him a few nights a week. I would take “party” clothes to work and change. The clubs he went to were different. It was not the usual reggae clubs that most Jamaicans went to. He went to clubs that played alternative and Spanish music. He was a woman magnet and some of it was rubbing off on me. At the club the ease of how Steven found women was uncanny.

One night he confided in me that he got his green card through a woman he met in the store. She was willing to marry him because she loved Jamaican men and wanted to help him. She was into him for the sex and nothing else.

Steven’s story inspired me in a strange way. It gave me the confidence that I needed to move on. Although the marriage was one of my main reasons for staying with Rosa, I think part of me lacked the confidence to meet another woman for a long term relationship. Hearing his story let me realize that I could find someone for a short-term relationship and marriage for my green card.

Now that I had made the decision to end the relationship I had to figure out how I would do it. What would I say? What would be my "break-up line"? It took me a few days but I came up with one.

I would tell her we were going in different directions in our lives and it was time for us to move on. I would tell her that I may be holding her back in her career and it was best for her.

I called Rosa but got her answering machine. I left her a message asking her to call me back as soon as possible.

She did not call until a week later.

+++++

The conversation started with us catching up with what was happening with us. We had not spoken in a week so there was a lot to talk about. She told me she was covering the late night shift of another doctor and was unable to call me sooner.

I was starting to feel bad about what I was about to do.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" I had left a message on her answering machine telling her that we needed to talk.

I hesitated. I was not ready. My life was flashing across my mind. Fear started to set in. How was I going to get a green card if I did not marry Rosa? All the time invested in this relationship was too much to throw away. Our relationship seemed to be moving in a new direction since she moved away. We have been closer and had more engaging conversations.

“I forgot what I wanted to tell you,” I was lying

“How could you forget, it sounded really important” she pressed.

She caught me.

“Oooh, I remember. I just needed to know if you would have some time off in 2 weeks as I may have some time to come visit” I was lying again.

My response seemed to trigger something in Rosa.

The tone of her response was surprising.

“No, I won’t have the time to see you”, she snapped back in a very strange tone.

Silence.

“I had something to tell you” she said.

“What is it”

“I think it is time we end this relationship”

I felt nothing. I was not surprised. We both knew this was coming.

Silence.

“Are you there?” she asked.

“Yes” I replied.

“Then say something” she asked.

“What do you want me to say” I replied.

“Do you want to know why I feel we should break up” she asked.

I did not but played like I did.

“Yes”, I replied “Is it me”

“No” she replied “I feel like we are going in different directions and we are holding each other back.”

I guess I was the one holding her back.

She continued “The last few months seemed a little different . We had been talking more and the conversations were better. But after thinking about it, I started to feel like we are brother and sister”

Wow. That was a low blow. I thought to myself. She was using the same “lines” I was going to use to break up with her.

I did not know what to say.

“So are you saying this is it” I was not sure why I asked.

“Yes, this is it” she replied.

At first it felt like her previous attempt to break up with me but I soon realized there would be a big difference. She was in another city.

It seems so sudden. There must be something going on. There must be someone else. I had to ask.

“Is there someone else?”

“No” she replied.

“Are you sure”, I asked.

“There is no one else”, she insisted, “I just think it is time we moved on”

Silence. I did not believe her. The snappy response to me coming there was a giveaway she did not want me there. Also the explanation that she could not call me back because she was doing a late night shift seemed like she was covering up something.

More silence.

“I am going to hang up now. Goodbye”

I hung up the phone and lay in bed. Her voice saying “Good bye” ran in my head. The song "Careless Whisper" by Wham came to mind, especially the part about "truth".

I'm never gonna dance again
guilty feet have got no rhythm
though it's easy to pretend
I know you're not a fool

Should've known better than to cheat a friend
and waste the chance that I've been given
so I'm never gonna dance again
the way I danced with you

Time can never mend
the careless whispers of a good friend
to the heart and mind
ignorance is kind
there's no comfort in the truth
pain is all you'll find

I was not sure how to feel. On one hand I was happy and other I was sad. Rosa had been a very important part of my life. I confided in her that I was an illegal alien and she accepted that even though she knew there were constraints. We were planning a life together. My family worshiped her. How would I tell them? Would they blame me again like they did before when the wedding was called off.

Sue’s hope for getting her green card through me was now gone. She was close to finishing her Masters. She had ruled our trying to apply for a student visa to study for a Doctorate as my parents could not afford it. There was so much riding on me getting married and now in a 10 minute conversation it was gone.

I started to grieve. I was grieving because my only “sure” hope for a green card was gone.

The one thing I could say was that I was not the one to break if off. Not the greatest consolation but it was something.

Jamaican Mango Names

Xavier Murphy — Mon, 14 Nov 2011 13:45:01 UT

There are many types of mangoes in Jamaica but most Jamaicans do not know the name of each species of mango. Jamaican however have some very “colorful” names for the different species of mangoes across the island. Here is a list of names of Jamaican mangoes. Be sure to add your Jamaican mangoes by adding a comment.

Julie Mango
East Indian Mango
Hairy Mango
Bombay Mango (Bambay in Jamaican patois)
Blackey Mango
Green & Red Mango
Number 11 Mango
Stringy Mango
Graham Mango
Common Mango
Bellyfull Mango
Robin Mango (Rabin)
Sweety Mango
Bluie Mango
Fine Skin Mango
Number 7 Mango
Beefy Mango
Sweetie Come Brush Mi Mango
Green Gauge Mango
Kidney Mango
Hamilton Mango
Longy or Long Mango
Cowfoot Mango
Bastard Mango
Green Skin Mango

Ms. Dulcie: "Dem A Look Wan Scapegoat!"

Dulcimer Peaches Robothom — Mon, 14 Nov 2011 13:30:01 UT

Greetins in de nyame hoff de halmighty....Ow iz hall a me precious fans dem doing?

Lorks times iz haard far hevrywan an de hinflaccion iz juss risin like a blinkin kite. Me sey me go a de store fi buy sum carbolic soap, pickapeppa an meatkine, a hundreds a Jamaican dollars me spen. A wey dem tink sey me iz?

Dem mussey tink me is de Bank a Nova Scotia.

Bwoy! De recession is really bustin we shut.....But praise God! I feel sey God gwey mek a good change cum far hall hoff we real soon. So uno hole an tight till den.

Well, me tell yu dough, de hinflaccion bring plenty letta far Ms. Dulcie. Me haff so much a dem fi read, from now till thy Kingdom cum. But dere is wan letta we ketch me yeye, cause hit cum hall de way from Europe. Me feel fi de hole sitiation do eh?

Dear Ms. Dulcie:

My daughter and her friend went abroad to study in Holland for approximately two years. They were such good friends that they decided to become room mates, which made their living expenses a lot more manageable.

Each girl had a different personality, however they seemed to get on rather well. Our daughter is studious and reserved, while her friend Tomassina was more of a live wire and enjoyed partying and drinking. Like most parents, there were aspects to our daughter's personality that we were not privy of.

After they were there for about a year, they both acquired boyfriends and seemed to have become well adjusted to Dutch life. One night the foursome went out on the town and got a bit drunk. They decided to stay over at my daughter's boyfriend's house.

I don't know what transpired, however, in the wee hours of the next morning I received a call from Rommie (my daughter), that Tomassina was missing and so was her boyfriend. There was blood everywhere but no bodies . The Police had called her in for questioning and she was besides her self with grief and disbelief.

At first, we thought it was routine, until they began accusing our daughter of having posession of drugs, clandestine liaisons and insinuating that she knew more about the couple's disappearance than she was letting on.

I have had several inquisitions with Rommie and she has stuck to her story without any inconsistencies. Therefore, I believe she is innocent.

Ms. Dulcie, things happened fairly quickly. In a matter of days Rommie was formally charged for the mysterious disappearance of Tomassina and her boyfriend. Then, to add insult to injury, Rommie's boyfriend disappeared within a few days of her being charged and no one has been able to determine his whereabouts.

My husband and I did some research and we found out Rommie's boyfriend was a hardcore drug dealer and user, therefore, we have reason to believe he is the one who masterminded this mystery. After speaking with my daughter she told us that Tomassino had asked her parents for several thousand dollars a few days before her mysterious disappearance. So we have reason to believe that she may have faked this entire drama. We believe she had help from Rommie's boyfriend and her's as well.

It has been several months since they have held on to Rommie for the mysterious disappearances, and there has been no hard evidence that links her to murder or foul play. They have suggested that there may have been an alternative lifestyle going on between the four friends, however nothing to indicate homicide. Yet, I do not understand why they are holding our daughter.

My husband and I have travelled the globe talking to people who say they have seen Tomassina and a guy roaming around in various cities, and although we have told her parents and the authorities our findings, they refuse to listen. It is our belief they are unjustly accusing Rommie. They haven't any dead bodies or murder weapons, all they have are bloody pictures and empty spaces.

Our daughter's life has been ruined by these allegations and if divine interventon does not happen, I am afraid we will lose her forever.

Although we understand her parents' grief, we know in our hearts that what they are doing is wrong and we would like for justice to be served. Please help us Ms. Dulcimer, we will be so grateful.

Sincerely,

ExchangeStudent Moma

Dear Ms. ExchangeStudent Moma:

Yu knoe wen I get uno letta dem, I pray ova dem. It seems to me dat dem iz tryin fi mek wan scapegoat hout a fi yu daughta. Mi no knoe why, meybe'cause she cute like wan button.

Me haff wan daughta to, so me knoe wey yu gweyin thrugh. You knoe, me hallways tell Hingrid no bodder wid no slepin hout at any strange boy's yaard 'cause yu nevva knoe wey kina roonkus-poonkus dem hinto. Me sarry far yu an yu usban. Hall de sem, me a go show Ms. Hingrid she dis ya harticle 'cause she tink sey me iz wan Nervous Nellie hall de time wid she.

Our Jamaican chilren tink sey dem parents mek hup tories fi ward dem hoff...But dem no knoe sey de truth iz more frightnin dan fiction.

Hanyhow, dem iz just tekin hadvantage 'cause uno iz fareign an dem holdin hall de cards dem.

Me no undastand ow four friends heng hout togathar, go to sleep, an den, two hoff dem tun hup missin. You knoe wey Hinspecta Dulcie tink.....?

I was talkin to Missa Fowla an we both tink sey, dem drug yu daughta. maybe eem juck ar or put sinting in ar drink. Dem hall did haff evryting plan hup..so maybe dem kill wan hanimal inna de bed fi mek it look like iz wan body dem kill. Den, dem get rid a de caucuses sumwhere...Dem could heven chop hup sum poor homeless person....who knows?

De DNA may tell de story, but wid such a cover hup, dem nah mek uno knoe hif iz hanimal har human blood dem did fine. Dere iz no bodies and no murder weapon....So dem iz clutchin at straws. Me nevva watch Columbo far nuttin.

Mrs. ESM dem a pull wan fas wan pon yu an yu fambly. Fight, Fight, Fight, and dough give hup uno rights 'cause justice must come. If me waz uno, me would a trail back hall de steps dem a de scene an chat to hevrybadie wey invalve hup, 'cause a bet uno wan ting....Dem tamper wid de hevidence......

I hate to tell yu dis, but yu chile may not haff been de most pristine, but de odder girl aint no saint eider. She was craftin are fambly out dem money, an dem is probably so shock bout antics dem juss a go wid de flow a de Police dem.

Ms. Dulcie haff wan six sense bout dese tings......

Doughn't worry me iz prayin far uno. Tek cyare till nex time....Mek me knoe ow tings go.

Dulcimer Peaches Robothom
from Oracabessa and Westmoreland

Tags: Ms. Dulcie: "Dem A Look Wan Scapegoat!"

Poem: Delightful Dancing Dr Bird

Karen Smith-Rose — Mon, 31 Oct 2011 13:30:01 UT

Top hat, tailcoat gleaming black
Beautiful green and iridescent smock
How industrious you seem as you deftly attend
Your birds bill lancing deep,
Extracting nectar, depositing seed

... As you go winging past, I move fast
To see your beauty I try to dart - like you
But I fail miserably.
Dancing on air, as you go
A skip, a flip - a prizewinning show!
You stop, you go, always fast, never slow,
A complex work of a Master Craftsman on show.
Your movements deft, my garden a stage
lancing your targets, you always amaze

With tireless wings ever whirring as blades
Fast beating and strong
Toting your body effortlessly along
From flower to flower you dart with power
Such assurance you give
A doctor at work, healing you bring...to me.
Through the eyes of your beholder.....you dance on wings, merrily along.

Poem: Where Are The Parents?

Margaret Juliet Bailey — Mon, 31 Oct 2011 13:30:01 UT

The children today face incredible odds,
Parents are no longer prospering,
Many have lost their jobs,
Some have given in to hopelessness
and turned to drugs,
The little ones have been lead astray,
pulled from underneath their safe
rugs,

Where are the parents
when they need them the most?
attending parties and playing
shallow hosts,

Good parents still exist,
however, most are preoccupied
with good times, nice rides
and mood lifts, putting their
offsprings on the bottom of
the list,

Where are the parents when their
children begin to drift?

The childrens' education is no
longer a priority,
They would rather take luxurious trips
or parade around as if they were royalty,
leaving the young ones behind in clouds
of ignorance, and inequality,

Where are the parents when the children
are thirsty for leadership, knowledge and
upward mobility?

They are off in their own world acting juvenile
and silly.........,

It is time for parents to be more vigilant,
because when they snap out of the superficial
stupor they have been living in,
They will find that crack, cocaine, heron and
gang bangers have been their childrens' friends,
Then, it will be too late to make ammends,
because they have been endoctrinated into a life
of crime which has no end or a way out,
They will end up in a body bag........
or missing.......
or just taken from plain sight never to be heard from
or seen again,

Where are the parents when their children are
wearing idiotic, noncentical frowns and psychopathic

grins?

Are they home on their knees praying,
or lost in oblivion, playing.......???

Perhaps they are just LOST,
frolicking all over town.

Tags: Where Are The Parents?

Poem: Inna Mi Valentino Suit!

Margaret Juliet Bailey — Mon, 31 Oct 2011 13:30:01 UT

Big position and big post,
from coast to coast,
Yet, dem wan mi fi mek bread
and clean ouse inna mi Valentino suit,
Tru mi talk wid wan accent,
dem tink sey me a suffa from wan impediment,
Lorks, dem a create hexcitement wen
dem suggest fi mi clean de embankment,
Mi dress from head to toe,
Everyting is Valentino,
mi gat mi credentials
fi do de talkin,
but dem douhghn't wan ere dat,
Dem juss wan pure cleanin,
Afta me nevva do days wuk inna mi life,
dem a try tun mi inna wan maid fi create strife,
Dem tink sey caribbeans iz ongly good fi cook
an keep yard, wen we get bex dem sey we a create discord,
Funny, dem doughn't worry sey dem offend we,
How much peple dem knoe a run roung inna Valentino cutesy-cutesy?

Tags: "Inna Mi Valentino Suit!"

Poem: Jamaican Perfection

Margaret Juliet Bailey — Mon, 31 Oct 2011 13:30:01 UT

Jamaican Perfection
can be seen in our
agriculture, horticulture
and even in the way
we fend off vultures,

Everything that Jamaicans do
is blessed with their hearts and souls,
There is no such thing as luke warm
or cold,

The passion for life exists in the way
Jamaicans work, party and love,
Seeking perfection is the only way
they know how to live,
giving their "all" until they attain
excellence, even when it means showing
others up,

taking on the brunt of the responsibilities,

working tirelessly and shamelessly,

until grand perfection is achieved,

Jamaicans only see filled cups,
and know that anyone can buckle up
and accomplish great things,
But only if the the quest for perfection
is the reason for beginning......

Tags: Jamaican Perfection

A Crossroads in Life - Memoirs Of An Illegal Alien Part 71

illegal alien — Mon, 24 Oct 2011 14:15:00 UT

At first I thought losing my job was a disaster. For the first week I was depressed. I knew my lay off was a scam. It was because of the sexual harassment lawsuit. I was in a helpless situation. The job market was not good as the economy was in a recession from the technology bubble bursting. Companies were not hiring people with my skills, especially managers.

I had applied for quite a few manager jobs online and in person but nothing. No return calls. No new job.

I felt helpless and pressed for time. I had a month of severance pay so the time clock was running out.

I was very edgy. Sue avoided being around me as I complained about trivial things. With all the time on my hands my main job was keeping the house clean. If Sue left something out of place I nagged her. I wanted the house neat. I watched a lot of TV during the day time. There was a lot of junk on TV. Jerry Springer's TV talk show was my main entertainment in the day time. It was about dysfunctional relationships. I think one of the reasons this show was one of my favorites during that time was because the people on the show had bigger problems than I did.

Seth called me one evening.

"Whappen star. I heard they laid you off"

Seth was trying his best to learn patois. He had been listening to me talk to other Jamaicans and also was going out to Jamaican clubs. He was making some progress with Krystal Yu. They went out twice already. He thought learning patois would impress her. I tried to tell him that she would not be impressed by it because she was an uptowner and speaking patois was probably forbidden at her home. I told him she could understand it but probably does not speak it well. He did not care. He was determined to learn patois as he thought it would show his love for the culture.

I could not bear telling him how bad he sounded speaking patois. Today, his call speaking patois brought a smile to my face.

"Yes, they called me in and laid me off", I replied

"Why" he asked

I could not keep it inside. I told him about everything leading up to my lay off.

"It sound like you have enough evidence to sue them for an unfair lay off.” he mentioned.

I was still upset and ignored what he said about suing them.

"Yes. It was unfair." I was venting.

He asked again. "Are you going to sue?"

I am thinking about it I replied. I was lying.

If I was not illegal I would have sued them. I watched enough Law and Order to see how the defense destroyed people on the stand with hidden information they thought would never get out.

Seth called me every other day to see how I was doing. It helped, as I had someone encouraging me however it also hurt as he told me what was going on in the office. Knowing what was going on made it feel it like I was still there.

I was contacted by Jeannie’s lawyer to testify at the sexual harassment case. I declined as again I felt my past employee would research information on me and find out I was illegal.

It was more difficult to get a good job at big companies were stricter on proof of residency to work. I had a driver’s license, state ID and Social Security card which should be enough. Some were asking for your green card and birth certificate. It was also a bad job Market.

I felt helpless and unworthy. It took me 4 days before I told Rosa. Her response was timid. She did not seem surprised.

I told Sue the day it happened. She was upset when I told her the reason I think I was laid off. Sue was at the point where she was near graduation with her Masters. She was not going to marry Sidney even though he now had his green card. He got his green card through a program that allowed people who started a business in the US and employed a number of people. He asked Sue a few times recently to marry him but she turned him down. She was going back home after graduation. She had a few contacts in Jamaica who promised her they can get her a job. I hoped she would have accepted Sidney's proposal even though I hated his guts. It was another option for getting legal.

Telling my parents was my great fear. I was the bread winner and they did not have to send any supplemental money for years now.

It took me 2 weeks before I told them. The response was surprising.

My parents wanted me to finish school. They suggested I find a part time job and go to school full-time to get my degree. It was a great idea as I had been taking classes at Florida Atlantic University, toward my bachelor’s degree when I could. If I went full time it would take me a year to get my bachelors degree.

It really lifted my spirits. The burden of supporting the house was no longer mine. I was happy; some of the pressure of finding a job was gone.

I found a part time job at a 24 hour Walgreens. I would work 25 to 30 hours per week in the evening and go to school in the day.

I was always envious of Sue getting her education and me not getting that opportunity. Now I was going to get that opportunity.

The timing was perfect as the semester was just starting.

Rosa seemed indifferent about the news. Since I was laid off she seemed very distant. We had been distant since the wedding was called off, however, there seemed to be a wider gap. She was distracted. We were down to seeing each other once a week and it was mainly for sex. She used to tell me that being a doctor is stressful because of the life and death decisions she made daily. I think I was her stress relief from the job. I wondered if she was seeing someone else. There was no way to know and I dared not ask. I still held out hope that we would get married. I left it alone.

I was excited about going back to school full-time.

+++++++

The first week of school was uneventful. It was not the same as night school. The first week at Walgreens was interesting. I worked stocking the shelves and cleaning. There was a Jamaican guy that worked on my shift. He was very tall and used to play basketball.

++++++

Rosa called late one evening the first week of school.

"Can we meet for dinner this week" She asked. It was strange as we have not gone out for a while.

"Sure, but it will have to be Wednesday as that is my day off"

"Okay" Rosa replied. She asked if we could meet at restaurant near her house. I agreed.

We talked a little before ending the call.

Something was going on. Maybe she was going to break up with me for good. We were going to meet at the same restaurant where she asked me to call off the wedding. I could not invest a lot of time on what was going to happen. I was busy with school and adjusting to the new job. I was extremely tired adjusting to the schedule, an emotional ride with Rosa is the last thing I needed. I had already believed the relationship was over but we just hung on for familiarity. I was hanging on mainly for the marriage.

The Wednesday dinner date came quickly.

+++++

I was running late for dinner with Rosa due to an accident on the I-95. My commute was a little different as I was now leaving school in the afternoons when there was more traffic. The drive from the Florida Atlantic University Boca campus to North Miami was much longer in the daytime. It was one thing I hated when I switched to a day schedule. When I traveled to classes at night it was a breeze going to school and back.

As I pulled up to the restaurant I could see Rosa sitting outside on the waiting bench. She was dressed really nice. I walked up to her expecting her to complain about me being late. Instead she approached me and gave me a big hug. Then she planted a kiss on my lip.

Is she making me feel safe before she goes in for the kill?

A bubbly greeter met us at the door and took us to our table.

As we sat down I tried to look at Rosa's eyes for signs of what she was going to tell me.

A waiter appeared at the table. It interrupted me trying to read Rosa's eyes.

We ordered water and some appetizers. The waiter left.

It did not take long for Rosa to tell me why she wanted to meet for dinner.

"I was offered a great job at a hospital in Orlando. I want to take it"' she then started to describe the offer and what she would be doing.

I was not sure how to react. It was not what I expected. I thought she was going to breakup with me.

"So what do you think?"

What was I supposed to think? I asked myself. I was totally caught off guard.

"So"

What am I to say? We were not really having a model relationship up until today when she greeted me outside. I also felt honored that she was asking my opinion.

"It sounds like a great opportunity" I replied.

"So you are okay if I accept?" she asked.

Her eyes were bright. She was excited. It was the happiest I had seen her in a while. How could I tell her I wanted her stay on the hope we get married soon. I know it was not going to happen. It was time I faced the truth and move on.

"Sure, I am so excited for you"

She jumped across the table and gave me a big hug.

"It will be great. I will call you everyday. You can come up to Disney on the weekends"

So the relationship would continue. She did not call me here to break it off. She wanted to pursue her career.

She wanted a long distance relationship. I did not.

Granny Story: A woman's virtue is never for sale

Margaret Juliet Bailey — Mon, 24 Oct 2011 14:00:01 UT

Many people say that everyone has a price. However, I find that statement to be disconcerting because it insinuates that people can be bought. It extinguishes the hope that individuals are integrable and cannot be discounted by anyone or circumstances.

My Granny Gheeta and I often discussed the matter of women selling themselves short. Sometimes the women in question are not even aware that they are not living up to their true potential. They sort of glide into a situation that is not edifying to their intellect and the person they wish to become.

As a young girl growing up, my Granny Gheets often prompted me to choose well when it came to a mate. She often stressed that a young girl could fall in love easily with a rich man as she would a poor man. Granny felt it was necessary for a young woman to pick a sensible life partner and a good provider. Although, she always urged us to be good scholars, she knew that a woman is only held in high regard in society by the partner she chooses. She emphasized, it rarely mattered that a woman is accomplished in her own right.

When I approached adulthood, Granny and I had an abridged talk about the birds and the bees, however her version was primarily concentrated on choosing a good husband.

Granny would say, " You are at the age where many guys are going to want to squire you about town, however, just remember that a fire fizzles as quickly as it starts."

I would say to her, "Granny what do you mean by that?"

She would reply matter-of-factly, "Well my dear, if a relationship starts fast it usually ends fast. You also have to pick and choose the places where you meet fellas. Don't think for one second that you will meet anyone of substance on a dance floor. In the glare of the bright lights and the whiff of alcohol, both men and women will say anything just to pass the time."

I listened intently because bits and pieces of what Granny was saying seemed so appropriate to the times we were living in. I had friends who were frequenting clubs to meet Mrs. Right and Mr. Right, however, they seemed to be harboring more heartache than good times.

Granny also spoke to me about "Greeks bearing Gifts".....She would say, "Oh, and always be wary of men bearing gifts ,especially if they have not declared their intentions or defined your relationship. If you are not serious about them, DO NOT accept presents from them. They will think you are an easy step over, and it will lead to them taking certain liberties with you."

It was funny that Granny chose certain topics to discuss, because it always seemed appropriate for the time in my life. As it happened, there was a love interest that was always bringing me presents, and it made me uncomfortable because I did not know him very well, and I thought he was going much too fast with the relationship. This was a perfect example to use what Granny had taught me. I told him I could not accept his gifts because I really was not interested. However, the more I rejected him, the more he kept pursuing with more expensive presents. With each present he brought, I kept telling him no.

I told Granny Gheeta about the situation and she said, "That boy is setting you up for something. Any man who comes on too smoothe has plenty of tricks up his sleeves, if you accept his presents he will think that you can be bought, just tell him no thank you."

Granny urged, that a woman should only accept gifts from someone that she is truly interested in and that one should define the terms of the gift. She felt it was important to clarify if strings are attached or not. Men and women alike, will use gifts and money to buy love, but it never lasts, and it only sets up a relationship for failure because the giver of the gifts expects more of everything and sometimes we are not prepared to deliver.

As I grew older, I realized that Granny was right about her assessment of relationships. Although it is nice to receive presents from paramours, there is always a feeling of discomfort that looms, because if you accept a gift naively you never really know what ill conceived notions the other person might be harboring.

Granny always promoted self reliance and independence. When I was going on dates she often reminded me, "Make sure you carry your "Fresh" money that way, if he carries on with anything foolish, just kindly excuse yourself and leave."

I cannot count how many horror stories I have heard from friends who went out on dinner dates and their date expected them to be compliant with their desires because they bought them a drink or dinner. Even when your wishes and desires are outlined, men never get the hint. They usually become more persistent declaring that there is no symbolism behind the gifts. However, once their affections are spurned, they have no problem painting a ghastly picture of you.

Granny constantly reminded me, "In this world there are young women who will revel in the fact that they are able to use their feminine wiles to coerce a suitor into buying their affections. However, the days of pampering and gifts are short lived because the women soon become aware that there are "NO FREE LUNCHES" in life. The people who give something for nothing are a rare breed and don't come along everyday. These girls soon find out their admirers were getting far more out of the relationship than they could ever imagine."

I thought about what Granny had said, and it made a whole lot of sense to me. As I reflected on folks I had known over the years and thought of their relationships, I realized, that most were superficial, and contained feelings that were meaningless.

Therefore, as per Granny Gheeta's teachings, I always found it best to declare, that although I find gift giving charming, thoughtful and flattering, there can never be any hidden agendas associated with their gestures.

Granny's conversations lingered in my mind, "When you go out with the opposite sex, they are getting a rare gift. A gift of your company, so don't let any man put a price tag on you or throw around his money to dazzle you. Men who feel they can buy women will never put out the time and energy to capture the woman's heart, because the trinkets will do the work for them. There are plenty of women who will go for that sort of treatment, but, stand your ground. The most important virtues a man or woman should seek from relationships are Integrity, Honour, Respect and genuine kindness and sincerity. If your love interests possess these traits, love will come eventually. No one wants to be just another man or woman who can be bought or sold to the highest bidder."

Granny's words resonated with truth and reason. A man will string along a girl by impressing her with all sorts of distractions. Meanwhile, a healthy relationship never gets developed because he gets bored with his game and moves along to greener pastures. While you were busy nursing your rewards and trinkets, he was looking out for a better bargain. A woman of high standards and morals. Some individuals use material objects to compensate for personality deficits. They would much rather give a present instead of being a better person by displaying true affection, love, admiration, compassion and appreciation.

Eventhough Granny wanted her female grand children to have solid futures with mates that were enterprising and successful, she dinned into our minds that we should never get overtaken by a man's wealth or status in life. We may think that we don't have much to offer, but our virtues are priceless. More valuable than rubies or pearls.

A man always gets a prize when he acquires a virtuous woman possessing self esteem and confidence because he knows that no matter what happens in life she will never discredit herself or the relationship. He never has to look over his shoulders thinking that if another man with a bigger wallet comes along that she will be lured away.

Granny Gheeta insisted on many occasions, "A kind word, deed or gesture lasts in one's portfolio of lifetime memories, while gifts get broken, misplaced or fade away."

People always remember the way you made them feel. If there were good memories, they will always cherish the person, if there were horrible memories,they will feel relieved when that person is out of their lives.

The male population usually misconstrues when a woman declares that she wants a person of substance and means. They intrepret her remarks to define her as a gold-digger. They rarely associate her pattern of thinking with upbringing and family status. The truth is, women do their selves a disservice when they dig for gold, because the stakes are higher and there are lots of risks in the big leagues.

Even wives know, that when their husbands are endowing them with expensive treasures, sometimes they are meaningless acts or it could be consolation prizes for recent or past indiscretions.

Granny Gheeta once told me, "If you marry a man with plenty zeros behind his name, you will have to earn every penny that is given to you. It is never an easy coup."

Therefore, as life progressed and maturity evolved, I have found it is always best to use discernment in matters of the heart.

Granny Gheet's words have never been more accurate, "The heart can be misleading, and all that glitters is not gold. Things are never the way they appear, so your best tools are your intellect and good old fashioned intuition."

Tags: granny Story: A woman's virtue is never for sale.

Live Broadcast From Occupy Downtown (Satire) - Jamaican Style

Joelle "Wendy" Wright — Mon, 17 Oct 2011 13:30:01 UT

After weeks of watching the resistance movement calling itself “Occupy Wall Street” the Jamaican people themselves have taken to the streets of downtown, Kingston. The number of protesters on scene so far is in the thousands. The protest, which evolved from a network of individuals and groups galvanized by the demonstrations across United States, has brought people together from all walks of life to make specific demands. Boardlane TV is live on the scene and was able to interview a few of the protesters.

Boardlane TV: Good afternoon, once again Boardlane TV is reporting from the streets of downtown, Kingston where a massive protest is on the way by concerned citizens of Jamaica. I have with me here a business-like man from Constant Spring who has a lot to say about what he wants to see change in this country. Sir, could you talk to our viewers about your concerns?

Reginal: Yes, good afternoon. The reason for me being here is because I want to plea to the government to provide critical mass required to catalyzed redevelopment of the Eastern sector of Paradise Street and advocate for the expansion of the drainage system in the Southern limit across Kingston. I would like to also see the inclusion of the members of the diplomatic mission to influence entertainment and recreation around the Bellevue corridor.

Boardlane TV: Sir, you have lost me. What exactly are you talking about?

Reginal: Your guess is as good as mine baby love. Mi did jus waan soun intelligent on television an a dat mi practice fi seh whole night last night. But I stan by everyting mi seh- even if it noh mek noh bloody sense. More time mi hear di politician dem a roun up dem mout an dem naah mek noh dyam sense eida. Soh mi tink dat is language dem can andastan. Yuh si mi?

Boardlane TV: Ok sir. But I thought this was about real causes here. Let me move on. Young lady, you have a very interesting placard that decries Portia Simpson’s sense of style. What is that all about?

Denise: Well, as a hair dressa l tink it is in di bess interes of dis country dat Portia change har hairstyle. If shi did a kip up har hairdo wance in a while di economy woulda deh pan betta footing.

Boardlane TV: How so?

Denise: Well, fi startas mi personally woulda charge har wholeheapa money jus fi comb out har hair. Den is aneda money fi aile it dung an aneda money fi gi har wan a dem tall hair weave mek shi look like spring chicken. Dat deh wig looking sinting pan tap a har head spwail an it mek har look like ole ooman to much. If shi do har hair, people like mi would mek a money fi spen. A soh di economy woulda get betta. It simple soh!

Boardlane TV: Ahmn .. I don’t really think it is that simple, but if you say so. Thank you for your time. Hi Miss! Come over here and discuss your placard with us. Why have you decided to join this movement and what is your demand to the government?

Sandra: Yes mam…di ting weh bun mi why mi have to bi dung here is di fact dat dem lack up Vybz Kartel an mek Teacha’s Pet flop out! Di show did a gwaan good pan Lime TV an all of a sudden sayka di jancrow police dem goh lack up di bway di show tap soh – Braps!

Boardlane TV: But he was arrested on the charge of double murder miss. Isn’t that serious enough for him to be in jail?

Sandra: Dat coulda wait til di show dun cause di show did ago sell aff! Plus it noh mek sense fi kip im inna jail when im alone risponsible di production of Cake soap inna di country. Di Supamarket Manija dem a seh Cake Soap sales a drap fram dem lack im up cause a im wan did a buy dem up. How dat fi good fi di economy? Cho rahtid man! Dis yah govament an di police force too blinking backwod!

Boardlane TV: Ok my dear. Good luck with your protest. We have time to speak to one more person. Sir, your placard mentions the inequality of wealth. That sounds like a good platform. Tell us about your complaint regarding inequality.

Andy : Respec nice lady! My name is Andy Livingston an mi did enta di Festival competition dis year an come in 4th. Di people dem gi mi $100,000 an wan pieca iron trophy. But when mi tek a stock, di man weh come in fus get 1 million an change. A wah kina almshouse bizness dat?! How im fi get soh much money an a pure ediat ting di man did a a sing wid im foo-fool jump up dance weh noh tek. Dem coulda at leas gi mi half a million cause mi sang di wikid! Jah know seh mi a rue fi dat cause mi money shart.

Boardlane TV: Oh dear… what a story! Well folks, as you have just heard the people of the “Occupy Downtown” movement hae their demands. Not very cohesive demands... none of them really make any sense for that matter, but we are just here to cover the news. Have a lovely day until we report live again from Boardlane TV

Ms. Dulcie Sey: "Wey Wrang Wid Mi Bredda?"

Dulcimer Peaches Robothom — Mon, 17 Oct 2011 13:30:01 UT

Halloo hall hof mi wandarful fans! Ow iz hall hoff uno copin inna de Equata wedda?

Lorks haff iz mercy! Ms. Dulcie feel like wan dry lan touris....Mi jussa sweat like wan pig.

Praise God far deodorant an toilet wata!

Mi no mean de hactual tailet wata...but de fancy-shmancie "eau-de-toilet".

Hanyhow, me a keep cool wid wan meke-shif ceilin fan Missa Fowla fix hup far me.....

A who sey im iz wan baff-han?

Speakin of fans.......

Well, me get plenty letta from me fans dem wid hole heap of scandalous stories. Me sey, wen yu see Ms. Dulcie

jaw drop, yu muss knoe......

Wan lady write me from Bermuda bout ar bredda an im roonkus poonkus carryings on.

Ere goes:

Dear Ms. Dulcimer:

I am writing to you about my brother Everton. I don't really know what is wrong with him.

As you say in Jamaica, "Mi bredda is a rolling stone!"

He just can't seem to settle down. Every time he meets a girl and she seems perfect, before

you know it, he finds something wrong with her.

She is either too skinny, too fat, too tall...too dumb. You name it. He finds any excuse in the book to weasel out of

relationships.

He has travelled all over the world seeking perfection in women and all he seems to pick up is a bunch of harlots who

want to eat him out of house and home.

He is well educated and successful, however, he is a magnet for scam artists and gold-diggers.

My family and I are afraid he is going to squander the family fortune on these women who want nothing more than to

be caught up in Baby Mama drama. They see my brother as their meal ticket. Ms. Dulcie what can we do?

The last time I spoke to him, he was hell bent on getting one of those mail order brides. Lord help us!

This time around, he is going for broke due to his playboy ways and immature view of the world.

Ms. Dulcie I would certainly appreciate your help with this matter.

Sincerely,
Sista of Peter Pan

Dear Sista of Peter Pan:

Yu bredda navel string mussey tie hup inna de street. Me nevva ere no storey bout a young man who hact so haunted

inna me life. A wey wrang wid im do eh?

Im juss no buk hup pon de right oman yet fi cool im puddin. A who im a look far? Mary, Jesus's modder?

Well, yu tell im far me sey, she iz taken.

While im is bizy lookin hall ova de wul fi oman, de right simady iz unda im nose an im no heven knoe, 'cause

im a dwell pon wan nedder dimension.

Uno need fi tap im from gettin imself wanna dem mail horder brides......

No one relly know we dem a get, fi hall yu know dem cyan sen yu wan tranny,

den, juss so, yu iz in a haul an pull hup sitiation.

Jesus Chrismas! De bwoy mussey bounce im head.

De next ting yu knoe im tun up missin or dead.......Den what?

I tink you bredda need fi tun im life ova to God...De bible tell yu hall bout life, courtship an livin.

Im travel hall ova de wul a look fi companionship, but did im eva cansidar a chuch, synagogue or trus God fi fine im a

mate?

Ere mi now...Wen im fine fi im Tinkabell, im naw go haff no eyz fi anybadie hels...cause she will haff im unda mannaz.

De ongly ting me cyan sey, iz, me a go pray far im. Cause hiff de gal dem no wreck im, de disease wey dem haff will.

Tell yu bredda sey, Ms. Dulcie sey, im fi go siddung an read im bible or de torah an tap chat an look fi

foolishness.....Halright?

Dat shuld give Missa Evaton sinthing fi tink bout. Hanyhow, me iz prayin far uno.

Tek cyare, till nex time.

Dulcimer Peaches Robothom

from Oracabessa, Westmoreland and Falmouth

Tags: "Wey Wrang Wid Mi Bredda?", Ms. Dulcie Sey

What's in a Song? - A List Jamaica Independence Festival Song Winners : Countdown to Jamaica 50

Karen Mitchell — Mon, 26 Sep 2011 13:30:02 UT

Edward Seaga once stated that the main reason for the inception of the Jamaica Independence Festival was to have to, "...have something to mobilize the spirit of the people," to celebrate after the long arduous process of achieving Independence in 1962. After helping to lay the groundwork for the first festival, Seaga remembers it was decided that festival would be held every year in commemoration of the first festival and thus it became an annual event. Since its creation no single portion of the event has served to galvanize the sense of nationality and the celebration of our culture than the selection of the "Festival Song." One of my earliest memories is standing on my veranda with my thumb in my mouth skanking to that years' festival winner. Somehow, year after year, the selection committee always managed to get it right. Choosing just the right anthem to set the tone and mark the mood of the Island. The song literally becomes a auditory time-stamp as to the economic, political and social tempo of the Island. Whenever you hear it, it becomes an automatic jovial nostalgic frame of reference as to what it means to be a Jamaican. We've compiled a condensed list of past winners let us know which were some of your favorites. Visit the Jamaican Cultural Development Commission official website for a list of this years contenders and for festival information.

1966 - The Maytals with "Bam Bam"
1967 - The Jamaicans with "Ba Ba Boom"
1968 - Desmond Dekker & The Aces with "Music Like Dirt"
1969 - The Maytals with "Sweet and Dandy"
1970 - Hopeton Lewis with "Boom Shaka Laka"
1971 - Eric Donaldson with "Cherry Oh Baby"
1972 - Toots & the Maytals with "Pomps and Pride"
1973 - Morvin Brooks with "Jump In The Line"
1974 - Tinga Stewart with "Play de Music"
1975 - Roman Stewart with "Hooray Festival"
1976 - Freddie McKay with "Dance This Ya Festival"
1977 - Eric Donaldson with "Sweet Jamaica"
1978 - Eric Donaldson with "Land of my Birth"
1979 - The Astronauts with "Born Jamaican"
1980 - Stanley & The Turbines with "Come Sing With Me"
1981 - Tinga Stewart with "Nuh Wey Nuh Betta Dan Yard"
1982 - The Astronauts with "Mek Wi Jam"
1983 - Ras Karbi with "Jamaica I'll Never Leave You"
1984 - Eric Donaldson with "Proud to be Jamaican"
1985 - Roy Rayon with "Love Fever"
1986 - Stanley & The Turbines with "Dem a fe Squirm"
1987 - Roy Rayon with "Give Thanks and Praise"
1988 - Singer Jay with "Jamaica Land We Love"
1989 - Michael Forbes with "Stop and Go"
1990 - Robbie Forbes with "Island Festival"
1991 - Roy Rayon with "Come Rock"
1992 - Heather Grant with "Mek wi Put Things Right"
1993 - Eric Donaldson with "Big It Up"
1994 - Stanley & The Astronauts with "Dem a Pollute"
1995 - Eric Donaldson with "Join de Line"
1996 - Zac Henrry & Donald White with "Meck We Go Spree"
1997 - Eric Donaldson with "Peace and Love"
1998 - Neville Martin with "Jamaica Whoa"
1999 - Cheryl Clarke with "Born Inna JA"
2000 - Stanley Beckford with "Fi Wi Island A Boom"
2001 - Roy Richards with "Lift Up Jamaica"
2002 - Devon Black with "Progress"
2003 - Stefan Penincilin with "Jamaican Tour Guide"
2004 - Stefan Penincilin with "Ole Time Jamaica"
2005 - Khalil N Pure with "Poverty"
2006 - Omar Reid with "Remember the Days"
2007 - Neville 'Gunty' Winters with "Woman A Di Beauty"
2008 - Roy Rayon with "Rise and Shine"
2009 - Winston Hussey with "Take Back Jamaica"
2010 - Kharuso with "My Jamaica"
2011 - Pessoa with "O If We (Can Change The World)"

Jamaican Culture: Big Bwoy

X Murphy — Mon, 26 Sep 2011 13:30:02 UT

Big Bwoy is humorous lead character of the Jamaican big bwoy (boy) stories. Most of the stories are naughty and adult in nature. Some are about trickery and deceit. Here are two clean big bwoy jokes.

When Big Bwoy Grow Up
Teacher went around class, asking students what they want to be when they grow up. Iceylyn: I want to be a shapkeepah (teacher nods), Aloysius: I want to be a fahmah (teacher nods), Hepsi: I want to be a maddah, ‘ousewife, wid 5 children (teacher stops nodding, and turns to Big Boy) -- Big an’ dumb, wid a horny grin on him face: “An’ I, I want to be di faddah ah Hepsi pickni dem!”

Big Bwoy Drawing
One day bigboy go a school an di teacher say
everybaddy fi draw sup n
So when di teacha luk pan everybaddy drawing
Di teacha seh good good
Den when it reach to bigboy him come up an di teacha dey dey a luuk pan di paypa an seh
but bigboy mi no see nutn me ongle see waan likkle dat.
So hair bigboy him now yes teacha es a plane but it dey far out u caaan seet.

Granny Story: "What is Granny Gheeta Wearing Today?"

Margaret Juliet Bailey — Mon, 19 Sep 2011 13:30:02 UT

We all have those moments when our parents and grandparents, aunts and uncles embarrass us with their affinity to old, worn out garments or peculiar ways of dressing.

The socks with the holes, they refuse to discard, or the loud tie they hold dear because it has sentimental value, or their eccentric ways of dressing, in order to display their individuality.

Although their choice of fashion may make sense to them, as youngsters or the future generation, we are usually repulsed or taken aback by their flambuoyancy to sport their self expression. We wish they would take advise from us and enter into the new era of fashion fads and cutting edge designs.

Granny Gheeta always made me cringe every time she showed up at my school wearing her sparkly sarees and her head covered as if she was an Albanian refugee. No one else's grandmother dressed as if she was always going to a Ball, but my Granny Gheeta was the exception to the rule.

Each day that Granny Gheeta came to retrieve me from School, I would play a game of hide 'n' go seek, because I was embarrassed. Her way of dressing always created a big commotion and I felt that she made me stick out like a sore thumb. Therefore, I would hide in the piano room or underneath the stairwells at school hoping that Granny would get exasperated and go away. But, as any sincere, devoted grandmother would do, she remained vigilant and tenacious searching for me until I was found. She sashayed all over the schoolyard making her presence more obvious and ruining all my chances of being considered "cool".

I would often enlist the help of my classmates to play "lookout" for me. I would say, "Can you describe to me what Granny Gheeta is wearing today?"

I would pray to God that she was wearing western styles instead of her sarees. I much preferred when Granny wore her english fedoras, and lovely, floral printed dresses. It made her seem more normal and it didn't raise too many eyebrows in the schoolyard.

If my friends reported to me that Granny Gheets had on a saree, I would go into hiding, hoping she would get tired and leave, then my father would have to pick me up. Although he was a bit over the top, at least he did not draw nearly as much attention as Granny Gheeta did.

Granny Gheets shamelessly paraded her Indian heritage. She did not care if folks stared at her strangely, or if the weather was sweltering. She sauntered around like the Queen of Sheba and slowly tried to enlist me in her fashion army.

She would comment, "Gee, it's such a shame they don't allow you to wear sarees at school...Huh? Wouldn't it be nice?"

In my mind, I was thinking, "No Granny, it would not be nice...I just want to be normal. Thank you very much."

Instead I just nodded in agreement, saying, "Yes, Granny, that would be nice."

Crossing my fingers that the day would never arrive when I had to wear a saree to school.

However, Granny's zeal did not end there. She went on a one woman mission to create Heritage Awareness. Every conversation she had with the teachers would include a remark or two of gentle persuasion....."Wouldn't it be nice if the children could wear costumes explaining their different heritages? or "It was always a lifelong wish of mine to see the grandchildren wear sarees to school....... I don't know how much longer I will be around, but it would be a dream come true."

By the time Granny would finish appealing to everyone's conscience, there were only sighs of sympathy heard in the schoolyard.

Granny did not stop until they created a Heritage Day. She was determined to have me parade up and down the school in a saree, turning me into a little Gheeta. Then all my friends would ask...."What in the world is Magli wearing today?"

After wearing sarees a couple of times, I realized it won me kudos with my friends. It seemed to have the opposite effect of weirdness....They began to think I was super cool and different.

I didn't know it then, but Granny Gheeta was always trying to teach me the importance of being unique. It had its own magical powers. embracing who you really are makes others view you in a different light. It sets you apart from the rest of the competition.

The accolades I received from "Heritage Day" made me fanatical about sarees. When Granny finally decided to appease me with dressing more modern, I would be the one coaxing her to wear the most elaborate saree she had in her closet.

I would constantly question her, "Granny, when are we going to go saree shopping again?"

She would answer, "In due time....."

Granny's lessons were usually gradual and subtle. Eventhough, she had exposed me to part of my culture, she felt the rest would be up to me in due time and season.

In Jamaica they have a saying, "You can lead a horse to the water, but you can't make him drink it."

In Granny Gheeta's mind, she felt that only time would tell if I developed a genuine affinity to my indian roots.

After all the years of running away from Granny because of her outrageously, elaborate sarees and headress , I have become a mini version of her. Sometimes making a spectacle of myself while displaying my roots.

People may whisper or pass snide remarks, but like my grandmother, I really don't care. So while they are questioning, "What is she wearing?"

I am envisioning my Granny Gheeta smiling down on me from Heaven.

Tags: "What is Granny Gheeta Wearing Today?"

Affairs of the Office - Memoirs Of An Illegal Alien Part 70

illegal alien — Mon, 12 Sep 2011 13:45:01 UT

“Aaaaahhhh" , I heard a man’s voice echoing through the hallways near my office. It was the type of scream that signaled some type of relief.

I heard a man talking. The noise was coming from one of the offices in the hall. It was not on my row but it was loud.

It was late. I was working on my weekly status reports. I had missed 2 days due to a bad flu bug. I left the office that evening and came back. I had never worked in the office that late before.

I peeped out my office and walked around the corner to see if I could figure out where the sound was coming from. I saw the figure of a man walking out of Jeanie Rodriguez's office fixing his pants. As I took a closer look it was the VP of Sales, Victor Caligrini. He was headed in my direction. If he was leaving he would pass my office.

What was I going to do?

I could tip-toed back to my office and turn off the light, but I was not sure if he was leaving or going to the restroom. I could be sitting in the dark all night.

I got back in my office and continued to work. I could hear the footsteps getting closer.

"Hey there, did not know anyone was here. You really are burning the midnight oil tonight"

He had a guilty look on his face. I think he was surprised.

“Yes, I am working on my status reports”, I replied.

"Great. You are doing an excellent job. See you tomorrow" he left looking awkwardly behind his back.

"Thanks, Mr. Caligrini. Have a good night"

"Mister is my father, call me Victor"

He left.

I was not sure what to do. Jeannie would also have to pass my office to leave the building.

I still had work to do and if I left I would miss my deadline.

The silence in the office which was helping me concentrate on my work was now a distraction. I was listening for sounds of Jeannie.

Was she getting ready to leave?

A few minutes later I heard footsteps.

Jeannie walked right by the office. She did not stop. She kept a straight face and was focused. Once she was two offices down I shouted out “good bye”. I did not want to seem rude plus I wanted her to know that I was there.

"Good night", she replied as she went down the hall.

I continued to work for another two hours.

++++++

Jeannie was hired 3 months ago and was quickly moved from a call operator to a manager. She was a beautiful 22 year old Venezuelan girl. When she first started she wore heavy make-up, high-heels and mini-skirts. She was always dressed provocatively like she was going to a nightclub. She was very nice. I liked her a lot. She was very friendly and would go out her way to do nice things for everyone in the office. She would bring donuts and other treats and leave in the lunch room. She would listen to anyone who had problems. She was well liked in the office. She also spoke English with a heavy Spanish accent. At times her English sounded like she was still speaking Spanish.

Victor was a 47 year old Italian American who was married with 4 children. I met his wife and 3 of his kids at the company picnic. He was not very nice. He was known to scream at his direct reports, who were mainly beautiful women. My boss who was a director reported to him and told me stories about him. I had seen people with tears in their eyes leaving his office. The turnover for his staff was high. No one wanted to work for him. He made the final decision on team managers.

It was now clear how Jeannie got promoted. She slept her way into the position.

I would not be able to look at her the same way.
+++++++++

The next day I saw Jeannie. She apologized for being so abrupt when she was leaving and explained she had to leave to help a friend. She was extremely nice and even offered me tickets to a Miami Dolphins game for that coming weekend.

She was killing me with niceness that day trying to "buy" my silence. Trying to give the impression that she was the good girl I knew before the incident.

+++++++++

A week after the incident in the office I received my annual review. I was shocked. It was one of the best reviews in my working career. It was the perfect review. I received a 20 percent raise

Greg, my boss, told me that Victor liked me and had some input in the review. He seems surprised that Victor would get involved in my review.

Now, I understood why the review was that good.

Victor was trying to "win" my silence.

+++++++++

The next few weeks were interesting. It seemed Victor and Jeannie try to make sure they were no where near each other. Jeannie made it a habit to say goodbye to me each evening. She left for home before me every day since the incident. I had first choices of any goodies she brought to the office. She would stop in my office to let me know she brought food.

If Jeannie was not being her usually nice self I think most people would think she was trying to date me. She and I knew what was going on.

One morning she came into my office and closed the door.

"How often do you work late" she asked in her heavily accented English.

"Not very often" I replied.

"That night you saw me, did you hear or see anything"

I was shocked she would ask. I did not want to get involved.

"No, I did not hear or see anything"

"Are you sure"

"Yes"
"I think you are saying that because you saw something"

“I really didn't” , I tried to convince her.

She walked out off my office with a disappointing look on her face. For some strange reason I think she wanted me to say I witnessed something.

I did not want to get involved especially since it involved Victor. As they say. See no evil, hear no evil. Whatever people do in their personal life was their business. I was already numb to men cheating on their wives as it seemed everyone did it. Office romance was also a part of life. People having sex in the office building, that was unusual.

I had no intention of telling anyone about the incident.

The next day Jeannie was back in my office.

“Please don't lie to me. Did you hear anything?” she asked

“No, I didn't”, I replied.

“You don't understand. Victor is forcing me to have sex with him.”

I wanted to walk out the office and leave. I did not want to hear about what was going on. I could not leave. I did not know what to say.

I was about to tell her I need to go to the bathroom then she started to cry. I could not leave. She started to tell me the story.

She did not have any papers and Victor found out. She did not want to go back to Venezuela as she spent most of her life here. Her parents brought her here and she never knew she had no papers until she tried to go to college. Her parents got her papers to work. Victor used the threat of reporting her to the authorities to force her to have sex with him. We recently had a workshop in the office about sexual harassment. This was a clear case of it.

She talked about how ashamed she was and how dirty she felt. She wanted to know what to do but never had a witness. She mentioned she wanted to tell the human resources department but did not because of her status.

She asked me what she should do. I honestly had no answers.

“I didn't know that is what was happening. I don't know what to tell you.”

“So you did see something. Can you be my witness?” she asked.

I was caught off guard. Crying is a man’s weakness. Her tears caused me to admit that I knew something was going on even though I did not want to get involved.

"I will help anyway I can" I replied. It was a dumb thing to say. I was caught in the moment. I had not intention of helping though.

She left my office with a smile on her face. She seemed relieved that she told someone about her predicament.

It was a lot to digest. I felt bad for her but I was also concerned about my status. How did Victor find out Jeannie was an illegal alien? I also felt some guilt as I thought Jeannie was sleeping her way to the top. She was not.

I was bothered but did nothing. Jeannie never came back to my office to talk and things went back to normal. So I thought.

Jeannie left the company a month later after our conversation. She resigned abruptly.

A few days later I heard there was a lawsuit filed against the company by Jeannie for sexual harassment. There were rumors that she was going to use the case to get her green card by showing she was taken advantage of.

++++++++

Victor stuck his head in my office.

"Hey there"

"Hello", I replied. I was not sure what I was to call him.

He came in my office and closed the door.

“Do you remember a few months ago when we worked late night”, he asked.

“Yes” I nodded in agreement.

“Did you hear anything strange that night”, he asked.

“No” I replied.

“I thought so”, he replied in a way that implied I would better not remember. The Italian mob flashed in my mind.

I was scared. I did not know if he checked into my background and knew that I was also illegal.

“I did not hear anything that night” I repeated.

“Good. Jeannie has filed a lawsuit saying I harassed her. She claims she has witnesses”

He left my office.

++++++++

The next day Greg came to my office.

"Can you come see me in 5 minutes?" he asked.

I thought it was the typical meeting we have from time to time about work.

When I got to Greg's office then HR director was there. I thought they knew that I knew about the Jeannie situation.

Greg started to tell me about the company going though some difficult times which I thought was the lawsuit. He then mentioned what a great worker I was. I was waiting for them to talk to me about the Victor and Jeannie situation. Then The HR director spoke and dropped a bomb.

I was being laid off.

Poem: Pon De Jamaican Country Road

Margaret Juliet Bailey — Mon, 12 Sep 2011 13:30:02 UT

Pon de Jamaican Country Roads
all day long dem a construck,
A wey dem a construck????
Dem mussey a look simady fi abduck,
De road dem still look "jiggedy-jaggedy"
like sey dem erode from wan disease,
A who dem a fool?
Look ya!
Me no bawn yesserday,
Please.......!
Dem hup an dung inna protective
clothin an a soun hoff flares,
but de funny ting is,
Traffic back hup an hall a de motorists
dem is unaware,
No wan ere naise a cum from anyplace,
Hall dem a look rung, de ongly ting
dem see, a plenty crane a wave to we,
Hevryone get confused an inna daze,
De cell phone dem atop fi circulate,
Pon de country road we is hall hostage
an outta place,
Peple can get hijack, dat's why mos Jamaicans
carry wan bockle a jaze an kerosene
inna dem back pack,
'Cause dem frantic bout hall kina attack,
A wey kina wuk dem a do?
Dem ongly a use the hard hat fi fool-fool uno,
Dem jussa create hobstacle inna de road,
an a halarm heverybody wid dem sign, "Caution! Wide load!"
Dem de Contruckcion prince dem tunn inna sum dangerous
toad,
Can you himagine sey, heven Jamaicans fraid fi buy tings
hoff a de road?
Nex ting dem knoe, dem inna wan ditch an simady helse a live
dem life afta wan face lift.

Tags: Pon De Jamaican Country Road

Poem: White Rasta Jamaican Girl

Margaret Juliet Bailey — Mon, 12 Sep 2011 13:30:02 UT

White Rasta Jamaican Girl,
hail from German Town,
been all over the world,
dated several clowns,
Experience has taught her
not to play a fool,
Set her standards
and act cool,

Many give her a hard time
because her looks are
ambiguous,
But, she is fine.....
Some ignore her and leave
her in the dust or write her
off as a "doondus",

White Rasta Jamaican Girl
wears her attitude and screwface
as a guard against those who put
down her mixed heritage race,
It is the only way she knows how
to survive in a jungle of folks
whose hearts aren't right.

Tags: Poem: White Rasta Jamaican Girl

Poem: "A So Me Tawk!"

Margaret Juliet Bailey — Mon, 12 Sep 2011 13:30:02 UT

'Cause me speak wid wan Jamaican accent
dem a put me thrugh bodderation,

Exclaiming, "Hello, Hello...? I believe we have
a bad connection!"

We can't hear you, why you talking so loud?"

Me ansa dem, "I so me tawk...I am Jamaican and proud!"

Me cyan speakey-spokey like de bess a dem,
A wey dem gewin on wid?
Mos a dem hail from cunchie Glen,

Me speak de Queen's english
'cause Jamaica wuz unda British rule,
A who dem a tawk to?
Dem tink me izza fool?

Me iz hip to dem games an dem no class
antics,

but me nah cyall dem fi fraternize ar fi be
wan romantic,

Juss handle mi business an no mek mi haffi
cyall mochomania dung,
'cause when mi finish
mi a go tek uno hall dung to China Town.

Tags: "A So Me Tawk!"

Poem: Matron Of Honor

Margaret Juliet Bailey — Mon, 12 Sep 2011 13:30:02 UT

The wedding is over and done,
now all eyes are on the the sister of the
bride, trying to destroy a family's pride,
Gossips are digging up propaganda and spreading
rumours,
The matron of honor is being dishonored
by the paparazzi, for being young and carefree,
The lovely vision in a white dress, had to be
subjected to slanderous mess,
Why can't memories be preserved without
letting the whole world become unnnerved?

Tags: Poem: Matron Of Honor

Poem: De Royale Affair

Margaret Juliet Bailey — Mon, 12 Sep 2011 13:30:02 UT

Heverybadie tarry from
sundown till dawn,
fi see de weddin of Diana's
fuss bawn,
De peple dem camp hout from Piccadily Square
to Buckingham Palace,
Iz ongly de Pope culd a draw wan crowd so big wid fi im chalice,
De Bride waz beautiful an filled wid flair,
cyan yu believe de outa horder peple a chat bout
she haff pieces in ar hair?
De Groom waited patiently far hiz damsel fair,
while de fascinating women had hole eep a
decaracion pon dem head,
Each wishin a Westminister Abbey dem did wed,
Hevrybadie who was anybadie was dere,
including Missa Natty Dread, wid wan sash
fi Red Stripe beer,
The men looked dapper as can be,
top hats and morning coats,
sportin dem pedigree,
De Best Man waz hoffering commentary,
while the Weddin Party sauntered merrily,
Me no knoe how de Bride fine de Groom,
'cause de church dress up wid trees,
dem mussey raid the International Forestries,
Thank God far tradition 'cause de Bride fada
waded through the melee' like wan machette,
De Bridesmaid dem was as pretty as a pickcha,
lead by de Bride's sista, for a minute she looked
lika school teacha leading her pupils to dere fucha,
In two-twos it waz all ova,
den de Bride and Groom ditch de range rova,
spreeing through de Town Square,
as if dem a runway sumwhere,
Hall now dem no gawn pon no honeymoon,
a we dem a wait far an Indian monsoon?
Dem shuld pack dem bags an go faraway,
an enjai wan romantic holiday!

Tags: Poem: De Royale Affair

Danger In Daegu

Michael Abrahams — Mon, 12 Sep 2011 13:30:02 UT

Carter to Frater to Blake to Bolt

Electrified like ten million volts

For Jamaica shock out in di 4 by 1

Wid an epic mind-blowing world record run

In di 100 metres Bolt false start

Did expect fi get gold but en up wid naught

Blake tek dat as di youngest champ

While Carter falter wid a bad leg cramp

Bolt did vex but seh him never cry

An tek di 200 wid blood in him eye

So we en up wid gold in di 1 an di 2

But in di 4 by 1 what would we do?

Lee did anchor di team in di heat

But fi di final dem ask Usain fi dweet

Di record was ours but could we go faster?

And could we achieve it without Asafa?

Jamaica, USA, France an St. Kitts

Italy, Poland, di Trinis an di Brits

Everybody get set in di starting blocks

Den di gun go off an dem start di clock

Carter tek off like a bullet from a gun

With a scintillating first leg run

Hand over to Frater in di lead

Who run wey lef dem at top speed

Smooth handover, no mistake

Pass di baton to Yohan Blake

But when Yohan pass to Usain

Dat's when things did get insane

For Darvis Patton of di USA

Run up inna Great Britain's Harry AA

Lose him balance an kin pupa lick

En up pon di ground an drop di stick

Leaving Walter Dix empty handed

Down di track alone an stranded

Tragedy fi USA an fi Dix

But in di meantime rumpus inna lane six

For di way Usain tek off was frightening

No wonder people call him lightning

And di way him accelerate an was a move

Is like him did have something to prove

Di man was focused an intense

An gi di man dem a donkey lengths

Between him and the next man was such space

Is like dem was a run two different race

Bolt blaze di track an run through di line

An Jamaica get gold in record time

Faster dan any had run before

In 37.04

The only record in Daegu dat bruk

Only Jamaicans pose beside di clock

Ending di games pon a grand climax

Creating history pon di track

And di last anthem dat dem did play

Was di one from di island of JA

A so we dweet, chat bout, dun know, naa mean

Big up di black an gold an green

Tags: Danger In Daegu

Poem: Labeled Pseudo-Jamaicans

Margaret Juliet Bailey — Mon, 12 Sep 2011 13:30:02 UT

Jamaicans are described
as people who are born
in the country, or
born from Jamaican parents,

Some Jamaicans are visible in their
actions and speech, while others who
have been well traveled or raised
differently are hard to detect or
labeled incorrectly,

They may not eat all the foods
that most Jamaicans do,
not because they don't want to,
but because they have food allergies,
that give them hives and other
infirmities,

Or health problems associated
with diseases,

Jamaicans are not always defined by the foods
they eat, but by mannerisms , personality, a no-nonsense
approach to life and their affinity to productivity,

Internally their "Jamaicaness" is intact,
with their ideologies and facts,
Jamaica is in their hearts, bodies, minds and souls,
They don't have put on a show to declare that they
are whole,

To be labeled a Pseudo-Jamaican, one fakes
a Jamaican accent, matriculates into the
culture with evil intentions, and when queried
they have no knowledge of notable individuals,
The history of their culture is vague,
and the legacy of Jamaicans seem strange,

Pseudo-Jamaicans may exist everywhere,
but they are easily discovered by Old School
Jamaicans who are intuitive and fair.

Tags: Labeled Pseudo-Jamaicans

New Poems

Mon, 12 Sep 2011 13:30:02 UT

New Poems

Ms. Dulcie Sey: "Mek We See Ow Dem Live!"

Dulcimer Peaches Robothom — Mon, 12 Sep 2011 13:30:02 UT

Howdy-do hall hoff me wandarful fans, ow iz uno doing today?

Well, a ope hevrybady feelin good. Uno gettin redy far de Hindependence inna Jamaica.

Heh..Heh....see uno inna uno big eel boot an ting, sportin uno black, green an gole.

Lorks haff iz mercy! Uno tek cyare yah...'Cause me ere sey crime de pon wan spree.

Mek we change de subjeck a bit....Uno heva wandar bout dem nosie nelli peple....Yu know de

wans we inna uno bizness hall de time. Wedder ar not dem hinvited???

Today mi a go chat bout de lookie-loos, you know, de peple dem wey we cyall FASSS inna JA.

Me say, dere is a oman who rung wan Hostel dung de road a mi station. Wan day mi mek wan mistake fi sey howdy-do to ar, an heva since she a cyall, cyall me a tell me ar fixations dem. Hall day lang she a gossip bout de peple dem wey go in an hout a de place.

Hevry day she cyall mi hup a mi radio station a tell me bout ar hoccupant dem. Ow dem dress like fowl foot but she no know hif dem live

any kina life, haff any money ar hif dem nam good. She tell me sey mos a de time she believe sey dem a put hon wan show fi himpress

ar, an dem iz probably con artists.

So me hask ar why she haff dem as ar customer. She say, "Well, dem brighten hup de place wid dem drama."

But see ere, dis ya lady need fi tek hup neegle point 'cause she a hact like wan Simple Simon.

At fus mi did wan heng up de phone pon ar, but as she tart fi ramble on , she strike wan card wid me. De oman so nosey dat she hall dig hup through de peple dem gaarbage fi figga hout dem lifestyle. De curiosity start fi wuk pon she mind so till, she go hinstall camera inna

dem residences. She hall tell me sey wen nightime cum, she mek popcarn an put up ar foot an watch wey dem a do inna dem private quarters.

You knoe, me start fi tink sey, she houta horda bad.

She tell me bout hevrybadie inna de place. De Oman inna 1b, dress like fowl foot hall de time. At fus she did tink sey she wear hall ar

clothes pon she back, but she get fi fine hout sey she mek ar hown frock dem. Den she tart fi tell me dat she look like simady dat is wild,

but she get fi fine hout dat she's a quiet sole. She heven tell mi wey she nyam hevry day an ow much time she bade an go to de lavatory.

Mi stap ar far a second, an hask har if she writin wan book or conductin resuch, cause ar convarsation dem was becomin disturbin on so many levels.

She start fi justify ar hantics dem by saying, "Ms. Dulcimer, you can't be too careful dese days, people are ginals."

But me keep hinsistin to ar, but yu iz violatin dese peple privacy, mon.

You knoe wey she say. "What dem dough know won't urt dem."

Well, I wuz bex wid ar juss waitin far she fi finish, to give ar, ar carbon copy.

She continued fi chat bout de family in 2a how dem dutty, an dem no clean di place but tree times a year, an ow dem mek dem pickney dem rung roung widdout any clothes on. Me sey to ar, "Den if dem so dutty, why yu no do sinting bout it?"

She ansa mi, "Dem iz very entertaining so me give dem a bligh."

Hafta a few minutes into de convasation I was sure dis ya oman was mad no shad.

Den she start fi chat bout de young gal inna 4e ow she look like she cyan mash hants but all night lang ar phone ar ring hoff de hook an she swear sey she a deal drugs, cause she hallways hup an dung wid shopping bag or brown papa bag unda ar arms.

Me hask ar sey hiff she eva see ar wid any drugs....She tell me, "No."

So me suggest sey, "Maybe she cyary de papa bag dem 'cause she a hypervantilate."

Se say, "Huh? What's dat?"

Now yu see me pint..before she go read wan book ar dictionary, she bizy a mine peple persanal biznezz.

Dat doughn't mek no kina sense......

Mi tell ar sey she a clutch at straws an cyan judge peple by viewing dem personal life pon de camera dem.

She laugh. "You know Ms. Dulcie, you know what I find out? Dat people seem more exciting from a far, but when you get real close, dem far from exciting."

Me laugh at ar an sey, "You eva tink sey dem knoe sey yu iz watchin dem?"

She laugh, "No man....me iz boss at dese tings."

Me juss smirk an heng up de phone. 'Cause hiff me did tek she on, it wulda be a bakkle at Waterloo.

Me no knoe why she iz obsessed wid knowin ow dese peple live...?

Some folks iz too previous far demselves...A wey she wuld a do hif dem tun de tables pon ar?

Dem haff a ole time Jamaican seying go, "When yu dig a ole, dig two, one far yuself an de person yu a ridicule."

Ms. Dulcie no cyare fi de gossipars 'cause bush halways haff eayz...an who sey dem no knoe bout ar spyin.

Dem well an knoe bout ar wranglings, an give ar juss enough fi get ar knickers in a crease.

Ha! Ha! God doughn't like ugly eh?

Tek cyare, till nex time.

Dulcimer Peaches Robothom

Tags: Ms. Dulcie Sey: Mek We See Ow Dem Live

Kingston: Vintage Jamaica - Countdown to Jamaica's 50th Independence

Karen Mitchell — Mon, 05 Sep 2011 13:30:01 UT

Kingston Post Office and Town Hall after 1907 Earthquake.

What began as just another balmy picturesque day in paradise, ended for its inhabitants as the day the world as they knew it, violently shook and was literally casted upside down.

By 1907, Jamaica, the tiny "...verdant beauty..." set in the middle of the Caribbean, like the magnificent jewel she was considered at the time, had established its resilience to Mother Nature's occasional tempestuous fury. Kingston, the bustling harbor town built integrally as a preferred alternative in terms of location to the city of Port Royal, (which had eventually succumbed to repeated tropical onslaughts of natural disasters), had experienced exponential population growth and was the country's center for commerce and trade. The afternoon of January 15, 1907, found the city in normal post noon menagerie of big city activities until approximately 3:30 pm when it was reported that preceded by a low whisper of a breeze that grew to a thunderous roar, the ground beneath Kingston began to violently shudder, creating gaps an fissures that swallowed not only entire buildings, but the terrified occupants within them.

When the shaking finally subsided, Kingston was almost unrecognizable. the loss of life was counted at over eight hundred souls, and almost all the historical buildings were either severely damaged or destroyed. The ensuing fires that swept the city leveled what structures remained, leaving survivors to brave the elements by sleeping outdoors for weeks. The devastation of the 6.5 magnitude earthquake left many to question the ability of Kingston to recover and move forward. But in the destruction many saw an opportunity to rebuild a bigger, better, logistically sound, Kingston.

Like a Phoenix, out of the ashes and rubble, and after a considerable amount of assistance and planning, Kingston did once again find the strength to rise to it former and continued magnificence.

The above picture, taken from the Jamaicans.com online archive is one of many provided by Dr. John Mercado depicting the devastation reeked on the Kingston Post Office and Town Hall by the earthquake. The sense of desolation is almost palpable.

Today Kingston is a still thriving mecca even after facing continued social, political and yes, challenges by Mother Nature. The enduring fortitude of it's its inhabitans cannot be denied.

If you have any pictures you would like to submit to our gallery and have them considered for possible publication at Jamaicans.com, send them to: ChildofParadise@ymail.com

Tags: earthquakes, Jamaica earthquake 1907, Jamaica historical events, Karen Mitchell, kington post office, tony callum, vintage jamaica

Live Broadcast From the East Coast Earthquake Zone (Satire) - Jamaican Style

Joelle "Wendy" Wright — Mon, 29 Aug 2011 12:30:00 UT

A strong earthquake in Virginia rattled the East coast last week Tuesday afternoon and sent out 5.9 seismic shock waves that were felt across the region. The quake prompted evacuations of office buildings and causing people to frantically run into the streets. Boardlane TV and is on the streets of Washington DC to obtain reactions from those scared individuals affected by the quake.

Boardlane TV: This is Boardlane TV reporting from the streets in Washington DC Metro area. We have with us here a construction worker who felt the quake while doing construction on the road. Sir, tell us what happened when the quake hit.

Dennis: Well to tell yuh di troot mi neva know seh a earthquake enoh sistren. A dig mi a dig up di road wid a jackhamma an all of a sudden mi feel some breeda shaking an mi a seh to miself: “Blurtnaught! Dis yah jackhamma wiked noh blouse and skirt cause dung to di building dem a rakkle! When mi si di people dem a run out a di building mi drap di jackhamma an tek aff cause mi tink a mi dem a come affa fi a shake up di place soh. A friten yuh sheg!

Boardlane TV: So you actually thought the jackhammer was causing the tremors?

Dennis: Yes man! Cause mi set di ting pan buck an mi swear seh a it a mek di whole place a shake soh. (Holding his crotch) Mi bex still cause mi did well waan brag an boas to di ooman dem seh mi have di wikidess jackhamma, yuh noh seet.

Boardlane TV: Ok sir, nice talking to you and sorry to disappoint you but you had nothing to do with the tremors. Miss, I am not sure why you are dressed like you are at the beach. Could you explain your attire?

Grace: Woooo... a weak , a weak , a weak soh til mi cyaan talk. Woooo… Miss TV lady, as dere is a Gad mi piss up miself! Mi was inna Old Navy inna di dressing room a try aan baatsuit cause mi plan fi goh Ochi nex week. Mi jus put aan di baatsuit when di shaking start an mi tumble dung a grung. A tek foot an mi seh nat even Usian Bolt woulda ketch mi. Dats why yuh si mi yah inna baastsuit inna di miggle road. Lawd Gad ..mi all lef mi baggy an brazier same way inna di place.

Boardlane TV: (Laughing) Excuse me for laughing, but that is a funny story. Are you planning on going back to retrieve your belongings?

Grace: MI?! Yuh mussi mad! Mi nat teking foot back inna dat place. Mi jus hope dem wi tek mi pan di bus inna di baatsuit wid di tag a heng aff sed way. Disyah baatsuit cyaan sell again cause mi pee-ppe inna it. Lawd Gad... a weak soh til

Boardlane TV: All right mam. Thanks to the quake you have a free swim suit. Have a good day. Mister, come here and have a talk with me. You seem a little dazed and confused. Are you Ok?

Dave: A di laas bombeet time mi a go drink a Bud Light pan mi lunch break! Mi noh know wey mi goh tek up miself a drink farrin liqua pan a day like dis. Mi seh lady, as mi dun drink aff di beer soh mi start wabble. Mi a wanda seh how dem seh di beer light an mi tuntid soh?! Mi tink a drunk mi drunk to faleetee! Kiss mi neck! Den mi si wan lady run ZOOPS! paas mi like lightning …an di breeze weh a falla back har lick mi ova. Mi seh Lawd Gad dis is it! Mi naah drink when sun hat again!

Boardlane TV: So do you realize that it was no that you were drunk but it was in fact a quake?

Dave: It noh matta! Jus a cheap mi di drunk cause a di fus mi eva feel soh light inna mi head an giddy! Mi ah-rite dowe. But as Gad is my wikness mi naah touch noh more Bud Light!

Boardlane TV: Ok sir, take care. Sir! You with the briefcase. How are you sir?

Milton: (Shaking) Lawd Jesas! Di place still a shake. Run fi yuh life lady! RUN MI SEH!

Boardlane TV: No sir, the quake is over. It is you that is still shaking. Clam down.

Milton: Oh a soh? Tank Gad. Well, how are you my dear? I am Milton Jackson from the department of Homeland Security. It was about 1:56 in the hofternoon when I was in mah office on the 5th floor sipping on some coffee when the quake shaked. I was so overcame with fear that I grab my briefcase an ranned out of the office. The last time I ranneth like this was at Boys Champs in ‘85. And that time was 10.56 in a sprint. I must have done 9.2 flat today.

Boardlane TV: Well Mister Jackson as an employee of homeland security you should be one of DC’s bravest as well as the most organized. Did your office not have a evacuation plan?

Milton: Evacuation plan mi backfoot? When yuh si book shelve and computa a shake like hell who have noh time fi memba bout evacuation plan? Anyway, dat plan is only if dere is aneda 911. Earthquake a different sinting cause yuh noh know weh ago drap pan yuh head tap!

Boardlane TV: Thanks for your time Mister Jackson. Miss, can you step over here and chat with me? How was the experience for you?

Sharon: (Feeling the Holy Spirit) Hastama-kanta-balu! Hastama-kanta-balu! Jehovah Gad move di eart tideh fi show di unrighteous dem seh a im a di KING of all KINGS! Tideh di whole a wi wikness di powa an di wrath of di Almighty who is rula of is eart! Jah naah sleep an IM is nat pleased wid di corruption, di back biting, di whore mongering, lickie-lickie, di buggaring, di bleaching an di Facebook ting.

Boardlane TV: I see you are devoted Christian and this incident moved you? Am I correct?

Sharon: No mam. Mi nat in di church. But mi still have to lick out gainst evil. But mi ago mek sure fine mi backside a church dis Sunday cause Maasa Gad a come fi im worl. Which church yuh goh by di way? Mi a look wan place fi worship.

Boardlane TV: You are on your own with that. Anyway have fun finding a church this weekend.

This has been a live broadcast where we heard I wide perspective from the Jamaicans on the streets of Washington DC. Back to regularly scheduled program.

Profiles of famous Jamaicans and descendants of Jamaicans Part 2

Mon, 22 Aug 2011 13:30:01 UT

Claude McKay
Author and poet, Claude McKay, penned the bestselling novel “Home to Harlem,” for which he received the Harmon Gold Award for Literature. He wrote two other books, a collection of short stories and two autobiographies. Born near James Hill, Jamaica on Sept. 15, 1889, he was of Ashanti and Malagasy descent. Prior to his rise to fame, he was apprenticed to a carriage and cabinetmaker, worked as a police officer and attended the Tuskegee Institute. McKay was involved with the African Blood Brotherhood for a time and later emerged as a leader in the Harlem Renaissance. He received the Jamaican Institute of Arts and Sciences gold medal, the Harmon Foundation Award for literary achievement and the James Weldon Johnson Literary Guild Award. He died May 22, 1948.

Courtney Andrew Walsh
A former international cricket star, Courtney Walsh was born Oct. 30, 1962 in Kingston, Jamaica. He held the record for most Test wickets, captained the West Indies in 22 Test Matches and held the record for the most Test wickets from 2000 to 2004. Walsh was voted one of the Wisden Cricketers of the Year in 1987. In Test cricket, he’s one of four to ever bowl over 5000 overs and is well known for his sportsmanship to other players. He owns the Cuddyz restaurant in Jamaica and is a regular on Lashings World XI with other cricket legends.

Donald Quarrie
Donald O’Riley Quarrie was one of the top sprinters in the world during the 1970s. Born in Kingston, Jamaica on Feb. 25, 1951, his name is often used there as a measure of speed. He won gold, silver and bronze medals in the Olympic Games for the 100 and 200-meter, and the 4x100 meter. He took golds in the Pan American Games in the 100 and 200-meter events. Quarrie received six gold medals in the Commonwealth Games for the 100, 200 and 4x100 meter competitions.

Donald Bailey
Born in Jamaica in 1967, Donald Bailey immigrated to Canada as a child. He won the 100-meter sprint and the 4x100 meter relay titles at the 1995 Track & Field Championships in Gothenburg, Sweden. Prior to the centennial Olympics in 1996, he broke the 50-meter world record and set the world record at the Atlanta Olympics in 1996. His third world title came in 1997 as part of the Canadian relay team. He was named the world’s fastest man in 1997. His career ended when he ruptured his Achilles tendon in 1998. He officially retired in 2001 as a three-time World and two-time Olympic champion. He founded DBX Sport Management, a firm that aids amateur athletes in self-promotion. Bailey worked as a sports commentator during the 2008 Olympics, was inducted into the Canada Sports Hall of Fame as an individual in 2004, and as part of the Canadian relay team in 2008.

Edna Manley
Known as the mother of Jamaican art, Edna Manley was born March 1, 1900 and was one of Jamaica’s most gifted sculptors. Her Jamaican mother, Ellie Shearer, was left to raise Edna and eight siblings when her husband died when Edna was eight. Manley moved back to Jamaica from England in 1922 with husband Norman Manley, founder of the Jamaican People’s National Party. She worked primarily with native woods and her work through the years reflected the many upheavals and civil unrest in the country. Her work was the impetus for the first showing of artists throughout the island. Manley was one of the founders of the Jamaica School of Art and taught there. Her famous “Negro Aroused” was the first piece of what would become a national collection. She eschewed wood in favor of terracotta and plaster in the 1970s. She continued to work until her death on Feb. 2, 1987.

Edward Baugh
Edward Alston Cecil Baugh was born Jan. 10, 1936 in Port Antonio, Jamaica. A poet and scholar, he’s a recognized authority on the works of Derek Walcott. He began writing poetry in high school and won a scholarship to University College of the West Indies. Baugh earned his Ph.D. in 1964, and taught at the University of the West Indies. He wrote numerous scholarly publications and his work has appeared in anthologies and magazines worldwide.

Jimmy Cliff
Reggae and ska musician, the Honorable Jimmy Cliff, was born April 1, 1948 in St. James, Jamaica. He’s the only living musician to hold the Order of Merit, the highest honor bestowed by the Jamaican government for arts and sciences achievement. He helped reggae attain worldwide prominence. Many of his songs can be heard in the movie “Cool Runnings” and he was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2010. He was also an actor of note, starring as Ivanhoe “Ivan” Martin in the film “The Harder They Come,” and with Robin Williams in “Club Paradise,” along with several other films. Cliff is a member of the Independent Music Awards judging panel. He’s released 28 albums and six singles.

Jody-Anne Maxwell
Jody-Anne Maxwell has the distinction of being the first black student and the first outside the U.S. to win the Scripps National Spelling Bee in the competition’s history. She won the event in 1998 at the age of 12. She later hosted the Jamaican program, “The KFC Quiz Show,” with a range of co-hosts until 2004. Maxwell is currently a law student attending the Norman Manley Law School.

Granny Story: The Night at Ms. San Tropez's House

Margaret Juliet Bailey — Mon, 22 Aug 2011 13:25:00 UT

Everyone is familiar with the phrase "Home is where the heart is", however, this saying rings true especially when one has visited away from their domain and the experience leaves them with a new found appreciation for the comforts and solace of their dwelling space.
This situation was very true for my Grandmother, although she was not a person who often strayed from her humble abode. There were times when she would receive invitations to spend Holidays at her friends' homes, but Granny was always reluctant to accept their invitation.

One friend in particular, Ms. San Tropez had a beautiful home on the outskirts of Port Royal near the beach. She was always asking Granny Gheets to come and visit her, but each time she asked, Granny always declined graciously. Granny's grand children often thought Ms. San Tropez to be a bit weird and eccentric, so we affectionately called her "Ms. Misanthropey". She was a self proclaimed recluse, who kept herself barricaded in her house which somewhat resembled a Fort. She did her own gardening and had only one servant in the lavish home she lived, because she found it hard to trust anyone. She was always plagued with the theory that the Butler would eventually run off with her silverware, and whatever goodies he /she could get his/her hands on.

Granny had been feeling a bit malaised, and yearned to have a few day off to herself, so when the widow San Tropez called upon her one afternon, it was easy for her to wear Granny's stalworth stance of leaving her Kingdom down. She was in need of some Rest and Relaxation. Although, Granny had refused to have an overnight stay several times before with Ms. San Tropez, her need for a change of scenery was more overwhleming. Therefore, it was a monumental day for the two women when Granny finally accepted.

Granny Gheeta asked me if I wanted to join them, but I refused because Ms. San Tropez always made me a bit uneasy. Everytime she visited Granny's house it was always episodes of drama. She often forgot her glasses and would have everyone in the house conduct an all out search , and then she would call from her home a few minutes later to say, they were on her head the whole time. Granny would subject the grandchildren to an inquisition, wondering if any of us in our mischievous moments "toyed" with her glasses and forgot to put them back. One time, she bought a bag of groceries and left them on the top of her car, driving with them all the way to Granny Gheeta's house, she began to offer us some of the fruits she had apparently purchased, however, when she went to get them from her trunk, the grocery bag was not there. She started yelling, "Someone stole my groceries!"

Granny Gheeta happened to be looking outside the house at the Star Apple tree and noticed a brown paper bag on her car, Granny called out...."Livvi. look there, what is that on the top of the car?"

In embarrassment, she laughed, "Oh yes! That must be the bag....Silly me."

After she had drawn a crowd on the street, all Granny could do was motion to her friends, making the universal symbol for insanity. Nevertheless, of her shortcomings, Granny found a good friend in Ms. San Tropez. She never hesitated to be there for Granny whenever she was ill or needed a consoling ear. "Ms. Misanthropey" may have a been a bit whacky, but she was always entertaining.

Granny felt that a few days of sea, sun and fresh air would do a world of good for her psyche. However, I was a bit ambivalent about Granny's decision, knowing that the two women had very strong personalities and Granny Gheeta liked to be a free spirit.

Despite my reservations and pleadings with Granny, she wanted to go on her holiday anyway. She mentioned to me, "Magli, it is only for three days, those days will go by so fast. Not even Ms. San Tropez can create much excitement in three days."

In my mind I was saying, "Wanna bet Granny?" But I smiled endearingly, helping her pack her things for three "wonderful" days at the beach. Jokingly, I said to Granny, "If I were you, I would take a few crackers and some milo, just in case "Ms. Misanthropey" is on one of her fad diets."

Granny smiled, "You may be right, I will do that."

A few days later Ms. San Tropez came to retrieve Granny, she was in quite a hurry to get their days of relaxation started, and Granny Gheeta was most excited about having a few days to go swimming in the ocean.

The first night Granny spent at Ms. San Tropez's house, Livvi San Tropez insisted that Granny Gheeta and her have beauty treatments and feast on junk food. Although, Granny Gheeta was a beauty in her own right, she was not the "girly-girly" sought of woman who indulged in long beauty rituals and slumber parties. Granny knew that junk food was for the young and that when people became elderly they had to eat sensibly. Ms. San Tropez had an affinity for junk food, therefore Granny was thankful, she had taken a few bags of excelsior crackers and a can of milo. Granny figured out that it was easy for Ms. San Tropez to stay up all night, becaue she was being fueled by her sugar rush. She wanted to keep Granny up all night talking about how the butcher had overcharged her, and the neighbors' dogs had ruined her garden. The difference in their opinions led to a miniature fuss.

Granny began to feel as if she had made the wrong decision. Ms. San Tropez and her seemed to have many differences, such as beauty regimens and dietary needs. Granny realized that if she stuck around for three whole days, she would eventually end up in a diabetic shock. So, like spoiled, school girls the two ended up going to bed, thoroughly miffed at each other.

Ms. San Tropez had lattice-grilled doors on every bedroom door in her house. Granny began feeling claustrophobic while retiring to bed. She had notions as if being abandoned in a forsaken castle. She couldn't understand how anyone could live that way, especially being elderly. Granny wondered if there was an emergency, how would anyone undo the 12 locks that Ms. San Tropez had on each door. Granny knew that crime was bad in Jamaica, but the way Ms. San Tropez acted, one would think she was living in a war torn territory in Kinshasa.

In the middle of the night Granny was awakened by the grumbling sounds of Ms. Livvi. Granny got out of bed and peered through the room door. Ms. San Tropez had pulled down the whole house, digging and gradging for her dentures. Apparently, she had misplaced them somewhere. After a few hours or so, a sleepy Granny was awakened by a euphoric "Eureka!"

Ms. San Tropez had found her dentures under her sleeping pillow.

The next day, Granny felt that things would be much better, she was feeling more relaxed and positive about her visit. The ocean waves were soothing, the birds were chirping and the sun was shining. Granny Gheeta felt it was the perfect day for a swim. Granny eagerly got up, and dressed in her bathing suit, hoping to have a quick swim before the regular beach crowd. As soon as she was able to extricate herself from the bedroom, she proceeded downstairs where she saw Ms. San Tropez reading the gleaner.

Granny told her she was going for a quick swim and asked her to join her, and then the sermon started.

"Gheetie, I don't think you should go for a swim. There are sharks in the water. It is dangerous out there. No, I think you should stay in and read the gleaner with me."

Granny looked at her in disbelief, "Since when, there are sharks in Port Royal? That's news to me...Where are you getting your information from Livvi?"

"I read it in a magazine somewhere, besides the sun is too strong, and you can get skin cancer from the sun."

Granny laughed, "Eventually something kills us, I am going for a swim, shark or no shark!"

Ms. San Tropez was not happy with Granny's decision, but she was curious to see what Granny found so enticing about the beach. She hated the beach, because the sand got everywhere, it made her home messy and the water was too salty. Since her husband died, her will to experience life had dwindled, and she found the negative effects of life more overwhelming.

Llivi and Granny ventured to the beach where Granny dived into the water and swam out as far as she could go. When Ms. San Tropez could not see Granny, she called the Life Guards and the Coast Guards and as usual, there was plenty of excitement on Port Royal Beach. Granny, who was an accomplished swimmer, came back to shore, finding a search party frantically running around..

Granny Gheeta, called out, "What is all the theatrics for?"

"Oh, Gheetie, I thought you had drowned, I couldn't see any activity for miles. You had me frantic."

Granny shook her head, "Livvie, I hate to break this to you, but by nature, you are a frantic person...Or shall we say, "High Strung"

"Call it what you want Gheets but the world is a dangerous place and you can't be too careful."

Granny began to realize that eventhough she had wanted to get away to relieve stress, her stay with Ms. San Tropez was creating more stress for her, because she had to worry about Ms San Tropez, worrying about her. It suddenly occurred to Granny that she could have created her own oasis on her verandah, minus the DRAMA. Although she had appreciated the gesture of "Ms. Misanthropey", Granny realized it was best that she return to her humble kingdom.

Granny gently broke the news to Ms. Livvi as soon as they returned to the house, informing her that her diabetes was acting up, and she refused to be a burden to her. So without delay, Granny packed her things up after a night and a day, and headed straight back, to Home, Sweet Home.

Granny was deeply saddened by the turn of events, because she realized that Ms. San Tropez had become traumatized by life and the only way she could enjoy anyone's company, was unless she ensnared them in her world of fear. The thought was uneasy and frightening. But, she also came away with a more keen understanding of Livvi San Tropez. She was a woman that had grown very dependent on her husband, and when he died, her sense of curiosity and exploration died with him. Therefore, everything had become a big deal or dramatic event in her life.

Her theatrics were designed to get attention and keep life interesting.

Granny was elated to have returned home, and vowed that she would never set foot away from her little paradise again. She elaborated by saying, "You never know how uncomfortable you can feel, until you are not in your own surroundings and things start feeling strange."

Granny always said, "Whether your home is a shack or a mansion, there are very few places you can roam to, that will offer you the comforts and solace of your own home". Granny was also very grateful to me for advising her to bring goodies, it was a sure rescue from having a diabetic episode.

Tags: Granny Story: The Night at Ms. San Tropez's House

Ms. Dulcie Sey: "Omen Iz Unda Siege"

Dulcimer Peaches Robothom — Mon, 15 Aug 2011 12:30:01 UT

Allo dere fans, ow iz all hof uno copin wid de inflacion inna de wul? Lorks hof his mercy! Mi sen Missa Fowla go a Coronation Market de odder day fi get sum mango, guinep, a piece a yam,an a few plantins. Likle mose me haffi martgage mi ouse fi buy dem few tings. Hevryting iz so hexpensive, de price dem jussa rise as hif dem pon crack or cocaine. Iz a real shem an abomination unto de Lawd 'cause wen yu do get de sinthing dem, dem look like wen fowl scratch hout de grung undaneath dem. But see ere....No laugh, 'cause iz a serious ting wen produce prices is flyin through de ruff.

Hanyhow, we hall gotta keep pressin on far betta dayz. Well, wha iz geyin on inna de wul? De man dem gawn mad?
Why iz dem tekin hout dem frustration pon oman...Hafta we no do dem nuttin. Hevry time me pik hup de custed paypa, iz a tory bout sum oman who dem hassault. What iz gweyin hon at dese blinkin otels...eh?

Hevry minute yu a read bout sum oman unda siege an get haul an pull hup. Nowadays, iz a real perilous sitiation far a oman fi mek wan shillin, hespecially hif dem wuk inna desolate surroundings. Bwoy! Sumtimes me wanda hif it iz a conspiracy or a shek dung. Why dese rich men choose fi a go a luxurous otel fi rant an rave an misbehave? Eida dem pon drugz or dere iz sumtin rotten inna Denmark.

But den, yu haffi wanda bout de vagabond dem a ragga-ragga nice, decent, self respectin oman dem inna public. So me sey to myself.....Dulcimina, dere iz a vendetta far omen gweyin' on. Iz dem tryin fi terrorarize we?

Maybe, dem wan we fi tan barefoot an innna de kitchen so dem can tek ova de wul? 'Cause me no undatand why sum a dem almshouse man tek set pon oman so.

Dem a try fi tek wey we dignity by tryin fi bruk we dung. We iz female so we shuld be crazy an hysterical hall de time.
Hall me haffi sey to oman out dere iz, No mek nobadie violate uno persanal space. To de Helpa dem who feel dem inna danger, rememba sey , uno broomstick an mop iz uno fren...No henta no room widdout dem. Hall de sem, why dougn't dese establishments put security guard pon hall de otel floor dem?

Uno cyan be penny wise an poun foolish...Look out far uno hemployees. An wen dese guests mek special request, sen dem de Bouncer, mek dem trya ting wid a mean, burly, kilin machine.

De ressa uno oman hout dere, juss rememba sey, hit iz rainin men an uno haffi cyarry uno humbrella hall de time...eh?

Now, Ms.Dulcie is prayin far hall hof uno, mi ope wen mi read de paypa from now hon dem will lef de omen of de wul alone hif dem knoe wey good far dem. Sistrens hof de wul unite, an fight de good fight ! Till nex time.

Dulcimer Peaches Robothom

Tags: Ms. Dulcie Sey: "Omen Iz Unda Siege"