Jamaica - Granny and I

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.

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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......

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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.......

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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."

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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.

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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

Granny Gheeta and Quality Control

Margaret Juliet Bailey — Mon, 18 Jul 2011 12:30:01 UT

A trait that most Jamaicans are known for is their exceptional discernment when it comes to quality. Whether it be quality of workmanship, goods and services, one could say, that Jamaicans are obsessed with achieving and maintaining the best things in life.

Most people are not aware that Jamaicans have such high standards, primarily because the country has a third world status. The rest of the world oftentimes deem third world countries as being non-progressive and lacking in the knowledge of luxuries and quality products.

My Granny Gheets was the grand dame of quality control. It was not unusual for Granny to spend several hours in a shop, sifting through the merchandise she thought to be inferior in order to get to the "good stuff". Granny's routine became normal with shopkeepers, that when they saw her coming, they would prepare a chair for her, because they knew it was going to be a l-o-n-g day.

Granny Gheeta had no qualms eliminating the merchandise that weren't good enough and informing the store managers about the condition of the products. Granny had taken it up on herself to be the World Leader in quality control. Perhaps, it was because she was always accustomed to the finest silks and gems, Granny kept her standards always in alignment to the way she had lived most of her life.

She applied these principles to all aspects of everyday living, whether it was the quality of education her children or grand children were receiving, she made it her duty to make sure the Teachers were suitable and qualified to handle the responsibilities of taking care of chidren. Granny Gheeta was never fond of "make-shift things" or people who were considered to be "trying a ting" as Jamaicans would say.

She believed that whatever one attempted to do, they should do it with the best of his/her abilities and conduct themselves in a professional manner at all times. I am sure most of you can relate to going into stores to purchase merchandise, and the clerks aren't very knowledgeable about the items. The mere fact that their peace is being disturbed by asking them a question, made you, the customer feel out of place, almost as if you had committed an indignity.

Granny Gheeta felt such actions were an abomination unto the Lord and would "raise caine" until something was done about it. Some might misconstrue her actions as meddling, however, I have noticed that when people get to a certain age, their wisdom prompts them to make necessary changes in the world. Call it wisdom or foresight, but Granny Gheeta felt she had earned the right to speak up when things seemed out of sorts.

I remember one day in particular, when Granny and I visited the market, all the merchandise looked as if it had been rifled through and put back in a conspicuous manner. Granny was appalled. She felt it was an insult for the Market Owners to expect hard working people to buy merchandise that other customers had tampered with. If it were prescription drugs they would expect customers to raise hell, so why was it different with food or personal items ?

These products are ingested into our system on a continual basis, or merchandise is worn on our bodies for long periods of time, so why were folks more complacent about accepting used and inferior products?

That day in the Market Place, Granny had the Supervisor quality control every single piece of food and product until the close of day. Granny commented, "Imagine, things are so expensive, and when I purchase these fruits, thinking they are nice and fresh, by the time I get them home, they look like poor things. The other day I brought some merchandise and a wicker basket to carry them home in. By the time I went a few blocks, the whole bottom of the basket fell out and my products were running down the road. You mean to tell me that someone couldn't pay attention to the workmanship on the basket? I had to throw away the items, because after they rolled all over the road, they had become infested with germs."

Granny continued, "You know something, this is probably your establishment's way of ensuring more business, but a old lady like me only gets annoyed and agitated at the chicanery behind the whole matter."

How many times have people been given inferior dining locations in a restaurant because the workers judge the patrons by their appearance, and assume they are not accustomed to any better? Or receive shabby accommodations at a resort because of other peoples' pre-conceived notions?

My Granny Gheets stopped the presses for such matters. It was not uncommon for her to call the Management and have the situation remediated at once. Most of the times, the Managers would gladly heed her suggestions, because deep down they knew they had failed at doing their jobs properly.

Granny's pholosophy on quality control was that a person should conduct his/her work as if they were answering to God himself. Granny felt, we can fool man, but we can't fool God.

Her quality control tendencies also spilled over into human beings. From experience, Granny knew that most human beings were not sincere creatures. They would laugh and talk with you, but she also knew that when one's back was turned the daggers were drawn and the back-biting began.

Granny tried to stay clear of such individuals. When I was a child, my Granny warned me about two types of people, Gossips and critical people. The gossips, she felt, that each time they brought a story, they also took one back and it was almost certain to involve your personal business. Although Granny Gheeta believed in constructive criticism, she also felt that there were people who chose to be critical, for the sake of breaking down another person. That kind of criticism, Granny acknowledged was destructive. Encouraging those two behaviors in friends or family could only lead to severe toxicity in relationships. Therefore, Granny always alerted me to press the eject button on anyone who brought those behavior patterns into my life.

I am sure folks may say, "Who has time to be so diligent and thorough about such things?"

The answer to that question is, think what would happen if you were not. If someone opened a package containing clothing and rubbed it with poison ivy or oak, and you purchased the item, eventhough you knew it looked a bit shabby. After several days of itching and applying calamine lotion, you would make sure it never happened again. Or if your personal business was gossiped carelessly and incited propaganda and defamation of character, the outcome would be unfavorable. Whereas, if you had nipped the antics of the gossiping individuals in the beginning the matter would not have festered and become a sore.

Granny was way ahead of her time, she knew prevention was better than cure. It is so easy to grab the first thing on a shelf and run out the store, or to make friends with the first person that comes along, but if we take the time to scrutinize the situation, we would find, that the seal was broken or that someone had a curiousity field day with the merchandise and that, all that glitters is not gold. Either way, we want to dig a little deeper to get to the good, fresh, safe and secure merchandise and people that have been so cleverly hidden.

Afterall, a bit of exploration is worth it in order to procure our health and the health of your loved ones.

Tags: Granny Gheeta and Quality Control

Granny Story: Granny Gheeta's Tale of The Publicans"

Margaret Juliet Bailey — Mon, 20 Jun 2011 12:30:02 UT

In Jamaica, paying taxes is an arduous but necessary event. Folks rarely make a big deal about the task, primarily because they are not subjected to filing tax returns. They pay taxes on their land, property and water, usually at the end of each year.

Growing up in Jamaica, there was always a time when Granny Gheeta became engrossed in documents and papers. Granny Gheeta was an accurate and clever little Accountant in her own right. She prided herself for keeping an accurate tally of every dollar or penny spent during the course of her life. Every transaction that Granny conducted, she kept receipts on a wire hanger in her house. It was her antiquated way of sorting through the paperwork she had accumulated in her life.

Granny participated in these tasks for her own peace of mind, not because she had the Publican or Tax Collector hovering over her affairs.

As a child, I never quite understood her ritual of accounting, however, as I grew older I began to understand why she was always diligent in all her business dealings.

One day, as Granny and I sat talking in the garden a very official man came up to the driveway informing Granny Gheeta that she owed back taxes on her property. Granny Gheets was mortified by the mere implication of this character. She asked to see his identification and persisted that his records were gravely mistaken because she kept thorough files and there were no indications that she had any outstanding balances.

The gentleman was very stern and unwavering in his opinions. He was unwilling to hear my Granny's denial of his assessment, he was just very adamant in the way he informed her that the funds had to be paid as soon as possible, and then he left. If this had been anyone except my grandmother, they probably would not have questioned his tactics or motives and would have acquiesced to his requests.

However, when it came to financial matters, Granny was always circumspect. Granny was not fooled or swayed by his "Officiality", she proceeded to go through her files with a fine tooth comb in order to present the Tax Colllector's office with facts.

I had not seen Granny for a few hours, so I proceeded to knock on her parlour door, when I entered, I saw Granny ensconced in a feast of papers. Finally, shrieking, "Aha! Here it is ! If they think they can take advantage of a little old lady, they have something coming!"

I asked Granny what was wrong. She explained to me about taxes by telling me the story of Zaccheus in the bible.

Granny said, "Magli, as people get older they have responsibilities to pay taxes etc. In the bible everyone hated the Tax Collectors or Publicans as they were called. They equated Tax Collectors with serious sinners and Prostitutes. In the time of Jesus, people had to pay 1% taxes on their property and possessions. Most Tax Collectors found a way to make the people pay more. Zaccheus was a short, rich, clever, Jew, who was a Tax Collector. All his people hated him because he had done terrible things in the name of collecting taxes. However, there came a time in Zaccheus's life where he had felt so bad about his chicanery, that he sought God out by climbing a sycamore-fig tree. God had been preaching to the Town's local gentry and he didn't think God would notice him...but he did. God forgave Zaccheus for all his unthinkable acts and made him a part of his revival brigade. Through God's glory and mercy, Zaccheus made reparations to all the clients he had cheated. Granny smiled.....This kar (Tax) man is a wolf in sheep's clothing. He is about to have his own Zaccheus experience."

I was very enthused with my Granny Gheeta's explanation of Taxes. Her biblical explanation made me ponder, how God could forgive people who take advantage of others?

I asked Granny, "Do you think God will forgive this kar man for deceiving you?"

Granny responded, " God saves the lost and misguided, whether or not they are deserving".

The next morning, Granny and I were up bright and early to make a visit to the Publican's Office about her aayarkar (Tax) as she called it. She was prepared to show him her documents attesting that her property had been paid for in full and that there were no taxes pending. Her taxes had been paid for, for the next 10 years. Granny was a good Kardata (Taxpayer). His nirdharan ( assessment) of her property was absolutely incorrect and he owed her an apology. The kar (tax) matter had been resolved, and she sat waiting for an earnest apology from the Tax Collector's office.

The overconfident man had been reduced to a dribbling, apologetic, civil servant seeking blessings and forgiveness from my grandmother.
Granny cooly commented, "Thank you for seeing things my way, however, forgiveness is between you and God. Just think about all the other people your office has tried to pull a fast one on."

Granny left the Publican's office feeling vindicated and empowered. She felt as if she had served all her geriatric friends from treachery and conniving officials. With the wind in her hair and her sari trailing behind her, Granny grabbed my hand and we sauntered off in confidence, knowing that minding your personal business properly can always serve you well.

Whenever we think of all the individuals who have committed unforgiveable, heinous acts and seek to condemn and crucify them, we should also remember that God reaches out to the neglected and despised of the world regardless of what their peers think.........

Even when people hurt us for their own gain and glorification God's day of reckoning comes in due time.

Namaste.

Hindu Tax words:
nirdharan-assessment
kardata- Taxpayer
aayarkar-income tax
kar- tax

Granny Gheeta's Views on Chastising Other Peoples' Children

Margaret Juliet Bailey — Mon, 23 May 2011 12:30:02 UT

Every parent likes to think that they have a prize cow in all their children, the world's best behaved children. However those utopian thoughts are soon doused at the first hint of criticism spewd by their family members, associates or peers.

Granny Gheeta was the expert on such matters, especially since she had a "hush-hush" policy when it came to chastising other peoples' children. Granny spent most of her later life taking care of her grandkids and sometimes paying attention to fer friends' grandchildren . Although Granny Gheeta was a stern disciplinarian, she often drew the line when it came to casting judgment on the little ones she took care of that were not related to her.

Granny felt that there was a comfort zone regarding the things she could say to her own relatives, because they were familiar with her ways and knew that she meant no harm by some of her critical remarks. Therefore, they knew instinctively not to take her scoldings to heart. Someone who was not related was more inclined to give strength to her criticism making mountains out of mole hills and eventually creating a hostile climate with her friends. Over the years Granny prided herself on knowing how to tread carefully concerning the children of other people.

Granny Gheeta always commented, "Jamaica people are so funny, they always act as if their children can't mash ants. You know, that is because at home they show them the angelic side of their personalities, but if you catch them in mixed company, it is a whole different story."

This statement of Granny's rang so true in my mind as I reminisced about classmates who pretended to be saintly in front of their parents, however, when caught off guard it was as if they had been possesed by the devil. One particular time came to mind when one of my classmates and I spent the afternoon with Granny. We had grown restless spending the evening accompanying her while she conducted her chores, which lead us to taking on the daunting task of decorating Granny's newly, cleaned veranda with flowers from the garden. As anyone in our family knew, Granny was extremely particular about the blooms in her garden, they were her pride and joy.
Next to her garden, Granny's other pet peeve was cleanliness, she hated a disheveled or untidy house.

So, in one short afternoon, my bestfriend Brigida and I managed to create mayhem and bedlam in Granny Gheeta's world. At the time of my mischievous prank, I never gave thought to the fact that Granny would chastise me regardless of the fact that I had a visitor. Often times, when we are little we tend to parade our shenanigans when company is around because we believe the visiting time to be the perfect opportunity to misbehave.

However, when it came to discipline Granny was reliable twenty-four hours, seven days of the week. She did not let bad behavior slide. As soon as Granny encountered our violation of her garden and dying decorations on the veranda, she began to call upon all the dieties of the hindu religion.

I figured, that Granny would wait until my folks came to retrieve me and let them have the honor of scolding me. But, Granny decided to take the proactive route.......She decided that I would bear the brunt of the whole situation because, I should have known better. I tried to explain to her that it really was Brigida's idea, however, she did not want to listen.

Granny Gheets just kept chanting, " I didn't teach you to be a vandalizer of gardens and you never did this before. Why show-off on your friend?"

Granny had made a valuable point......What had possessed me to act out of character that day? Perhaps it was the excitement of having another girl my age to play with. I was not quite certain, but deep down I knew that Granny was right about one thing, I knew better. Granny had decided that she would not say one reprimanding word to Brigida because it was not her place. She felt that if Brigida continued on the mischievous path she was on, eventually her parents would get a whiff of her behavior and one day she would have to pay the piper.

As I waited for my folks to return, Granny chastised me in front of Brigida which made me feel thoroughly embarrassed and feeling silly for having gone along with her whimsical play. As my grandmother, Granny Gheeta felt that she had the right to discipline me anyway she felt, but she would not over step her bounds by correcting an unrelated person's child or children. Oddly enough, when my parents arrived to retrieve Brigida and I, they realized that something had gone awry in the visit.

After much prodding and research my parents found out that my Granny had chastised me. Surprisingly, they were on my side. They too felt that it was their job only to discipline and correct me. They felt that grandparents were supposed to be caretakers of children, spoiling them and keeping them from harm, but never taking the proactive role of mother or father by doling out punishments.

After this episode Granny Gheeta learned to apply her belief of non-chastisement towards all children except her own. My parents made it quite clear that if punishment was not metered in the right way, it could cause irreparable harm to a child, and therefore prohibited my grandmother from ever doling out chastisement.

Needless to say, Granny was not a happy camper, but she learned to express her dissatisfaction in other ways. One look or a hand gesture was enough to convey that she was dissatisfied with your behavior. During this time Granny Gheeta also realized that it decreased her stress levels when she was not being the disciplinarian. Her role of loving and releasing became more joyful, because she knew that once my parents took me in hand, the mischief would be dealt with in a constructive manner.

As an adult, I have learned from this experience over and over again. I have been privy to children misbehaving in the most heinous manners, however, history has taught me to look and smile because ultimately it is their parents' job to scold, cajole and dole out punishment.

If little Timmy or Suzie want to have a public meltdown or defy their parents, it really isn't anyone's business to cast judgment, ultimately, the parents will have to develop a plan for remediating his/her behavior.

Margeret Juliet Bailey
Sole Proprietor
Maggie's Poetic Delights

Tags: Granny Gheeta's Views On Chasting Other Peoples' Children

"What If Granny Gheeta Skins Her Teeth?"

Margaret Juliet Bailey — Mon, 25 Apr 2011 12:30:02 UT

In Jamaica most children are very fond of their elderly relatives, primarily because they take the time to listen to their concerns and they refrain from casting judgement, remembering that they too, were once young and carefree.

Growing up in Jamaica, and having a grandmother like Granny Gheeta made for very interesting times. As most younger children can relate, once an older relative approaches certain birthdays, we start to think of them as being very ancient. Their aging bodies and personas tend to make most children scared and apprehensive.

Jamaican children are a bit rare in these matters because they enjoy spending time with older folks. The elderly adore their antics as opposed to correcting them all the while.

As my Granny Gheeta got older, in my heart, I swore every day that she was going to die. If she had a headache, or an aching body part, my stomach became filled with anxiety, and my mind tried to rationalize that each day she had a maladie, was the last day. Well, these feelings went on for twenty or so years, and Granny Gheeta lived until a very ripe old age.

Most children view their grandparents as being fragile and think that each time they are ill, "kickng the bucket" is right around the corner. As folks get old, they begin to appear as strange, spiritual figures to the younger generation.

My Granny was always talking about the dead, and the spirits she saw, which made for some very s-p-o-o-k-y times. However, this did not deter me from seeking her out for conversation or companionship. As the conversations became "dicey" between Granny Gheeta and her friends, I would casually leave the area and abscond to my world of make-believe. There, I would try to de-program myself from her superstitions, ghouls and goblins conversations.

Granny Gheeta was a very engaging conversationalist, so I would often invite her to spend time with me as I indulged in some of my favorite pastimes. As we watched television until the wee hours, Granny would fall asleep and I would check on her to see if she was still breathing. Sometimes, she laid there really still, it was difficult to tell without waking her. This scenario would create moments of panic within my psyche, wondering what I would do, if Granny died while in my presence. So, in order to deter her death, I would wake her up promptly, exclaiming, "Granny, you look uncomfortable lying on the armchair, come let me put you to bed."

Granny Gheeta would sleepily usher off to her quarters and retire peacefully. I, on the other hand, felt as if I had prevented an inevitable situation and often sighed in relief, feeling calm that Granny Gheeta would not die in my presence.

The over active imaginations of children are soon outgrown once they become adults, because when I got older and became aware of my own mortality, it did not seem to be a big deal if any person or family member died in my presence. I missed them leaving their Earthly lives, however, I was not afraid they would turn into "boogeymen" or "boogeywomen".

A person begins to understand that the dying process is a natural part of life, and if we have good relationships with the dearly departed, there is no need to fear them dying because you know that they will always watch out for you and protect you.

So, if a family member died and he/she were a good soul in life, their presence would be welcomed as a good spirit in death. However, if he/she were old miserable, mean spirited crumudgeon in life, their spirit would be shunned.

Therefore, as time passed, older relatives became a wealth of information. You wanted to be around them to soak up their wisdom and life stories. Listening to them, helped you to understand them better and also help yourself with old-fashioned knowledge for the future.

The vison of anyone's grandparents dying and "skinning" his or her teeth is a frightening concept to a child. An experience that should not be dealt with until one becomes older. When my Granny Gheets progressed in age and became mildly incapacitated, I then became concerned that she might "skin her teeth" while in the bathtub, while praying, or any activity that required over exertion. These feelings led me to check on Granny incessantly while in the care of her nurses. It became a marathon of questions for me, "What if......., she fell and couldn't get up? What if......? The scenarios in my mind became endless.

There were instances when I would call Granny Gheeta several times per day just to see if she was still breathing. She often became senile and went off on a tangent, leaving the phone off the hook, and my "Hellos" were not answered. I felt for certain that she had passed out and could not respond. Then, I would make haste to reach her, only to find her sitting in her armchair singing a hymn and perusing her Bible.

I can honestly say, that aging relatives create the environment for a lot of drama because we begin to realize how frail their lives are , and they can leave our lives at any moment. We sometimes dread their arrival because of the high standards they subject us to, yet, after basking in their presence, we hate to see them go anywhere for an eternity.

Tags: "What If Granny Gheeta Skins Her Teeth"

Granny Gheeta Speaks Beyond The Grave

Margaret Juliet Bailey — Mon, 28 Mar 2011 11:30:02 UT

We are living in times of uncertainty and chaos, partly because the world has been lead astray by well meaning leaders, and partly because most people who inhabit the world, don't really care about good stewardship or governance.

Have you noticed that the goods and services that we receive today, are far more inferior to the olden days of Industry and Commerce?

As consumers why do we find ourselves pleading with people to give us satisfactory services?

In the new Millenium, we as consumers, practically have to beg workers to handle our accounts properly and tend to our pressing concerns.

People are just not as dedicated or committed to their tasks as days gone by. This is caused, primarily because Companies are no longer loyal to their employees, so they are resolute not to give their all . Most workers will only do the bare minimum in order to occupy their days and collect their wages.

Then there are also the "caste system struck", who feel that individuals who are not ranking in the top echelon of life are not worthy of proper goods and services, and Believe It or Not, corporations endorse their behaviors!

Being a customer or a client on the receiving end of peoples' frustrations can be quite disconcerting and downright exasperating.

Therefore, I often find myself pondering the world of Customer Service incivility. How many of you can identify with calling up a service oriented company and are plagued with inhospitable behavior and indiffference? and if those violations aren't enough, one usually has to make a bevy of calls before receiving any kind of satisfaction.

This experience may seem insignificant and trivial, but on the wheel of life, they are insight to the future of the world that will unfold. I remember one week in particular being exasperated after dealing with utility companies, that I sat down on a chair, pondering, "Why are folks who are service oriented, so difficult at times?"

I mulled this mystery until, as they say, in Jamaica, "mi head start fi urt mi".

My frustration lead me to a daydream, where I found my Granny Gheeta sitting on a rock in Heaven, while wearing a crimson and forest green sari. As usual, Granny Gheeta was preoccupied with her sari not touching the ground in heaven, while the fog circulated.

She turned to me and said, "Sweetheart don't worry your brain about those old devil worshippers. Because that is what they are. God's people are usually quick, efficient, compassionate, and very helpful people. They flow with a sense of purpose. These devil people are here on earth to get decent, welll meaning folks crazy, and besides themselves with worry. Eventually robbing them of their joy and peace."

I turned to her and said, "Granny, sometimes I think it's me, but I speak the Queen's english and these individuals are so disrespectful, deceptive and despicable in their tones!!!!"

Granny calmly said, "I know love. They rile you up so much sometimes that you just want to banish them to hell."

I looked at her in amazement and replid, "Oh Granny, so you do understand?'

Granny remarked, "More than you think. Although folks may say that good Karma follows you, if you perform kind deeds in your life, that is not necessarily true. Sometimes the sweeter and kinder you are, people are unnerved by this. So they give you a hard way to go. That is why when Granny was around, I always challenged you to be an old battle axe. You gotta fight fire with fire!"

I sighed a heavy sigh, revealing my burdened heart, "But Granny, I don't want to be fighting or battling with people all the time. I should be able to tell them what I want or need and they should be happy to serve. Any person in the world should be able to have this right."

Granny looked around at the garden and the trees, smiled and continued, "Ahhh, when you give a double dosage of medicine that they have given to you. Then you will have cooled their pudding."

I kept repeating what Granny Gheeta had said to find the meaning, however, her parables always seemed to mystify me.

"Okay my love, in other words, if they are nasty to you, give them NASTINESS to the superlative level. If they are decent with you, be gracious, yet watchful, and leave them to simmer."

Then I thought, perhaps my grandmother had some credence with her explanations. I know from speaking with my peers, that they too, have experienced, callous, non-cooperative, rude, customer service employees. So what was their deal?

Granny went on, "I can't begin to speak for the whole world, but I can say , the world is not what it used to be. Folks just don't care. If people united, and said that what they are doing is wrong. Only then, would real change happen. I know that you cannot let "good-for-nothing" people wreck, ruin or upset your life with their mind games and chicanery. You have to fight back with a double, or even a triple dose of DISGUSTINGNESS.....The message will speak loud and clear."

I looked at her as if I was searching for a magic wand, "Granny, true...? You really think so?"

"You are my Grandaughter, and I have told you on several occasions that you are much too nice. You know what they say, "Nice guys finish last". Shake up their world and let them see how it feels. Niceness is sometimes overrated."

Then a strong wind crept in, and Granny Gheeta was gone. I felt refreshingly better for being able to share my feelings of disenchantment and angst with her. However, I was eager to "lambaste" the next individual who gave me a hard time.

Growing up, school teachers and our parents encourage us to be good girls and boys, or to be nice. Yet, they never tell us how to react when people aren't nice to us. Only certified, crazy people overreact for no reason. If a crazy person is questioned, I am sure in the small recesses of their mind, there are reasons lurking for their bizarre outbursts or behavior..

Therefore, if someone mashes your corn, or simply refuses to be attentive to needs and inquiries, just give them a super, deluxe dose of whatever they are serving up!

Bon Apetite!

Tags: Granny Gheeta Speaks Beyond The Grave

Granny Gheeta Questions, "Where Is My Grandchild?"

Margaret Juliet Bailey — Mon, 28 Feb 2011 11:30:01 UT

Every parent experiences moments of frantic at one time or another regarding the whereabouts of their child or children. Whether it is a school bus ride gone awry or children losing their way. Childhood has its way of creating panic within families.

When I was a little girl going to Prep School, my Granny Gheeta made sure she came to retrieve me after school. Before she took me home, she checked me from head to toe to make sure I had no cuts or bruises and that my school uniform was in the same condition as when I left the house. Granny Gheeta went through my Jungle Book Lunch box inspecting it, verifying that I had eaten every morsel of lunch, and that none of my utensils were missing. Before we left the school grounds, Granny wanted a full account of my day and if anything I said raised an eyebrow with Granny, she would straighten it out right then and there, with either the Principal or the Teachers.

If Granny Gheeta was not able to get me from school, she would call my father and ask him to send two guards for me. She would then call the school and put them on alert that she was not retrieving me that day, and gave the names of the armed guards.

I must admit, that I was always a bit embarrassed by my Granny Gheeta and her overprotective ways. The fact that she always showed up at my Prep School in her Indian garb created so much excitement and curiosity. I often wished that I could run and hide to avoid her. However, Granny was too swift thinking for me to ever have eluded her, because she made sure she had all her bases covered.

Granny's inquisitions with the School's staff was always exasperating. She had to know if anyone was hired on the grounds recently, who my teachers were, and what field trips were being planned. "Granny Nosey Nellie Gheeta" ( I affectionately called her in my mind), became a gradual fixture on the school grounds, just to make sure everything was going alright. Granny made herself the honorary Gestapo whether the school liked it or not.

Her constant presence often made me the source of many clever quips at school. Whenever we went anywhere and they were large groups of Indians, everyone would call out to me, "Hey, Margaret, there goes your family looking out for you!" These remarks were usually followed by childish chuckles and a few attempts of trying to speak in Indian dialects.

Nevertheless, these stories never deterred Granny Gheeta from keeping in touch and checking in. As I grew older, I began waging a campaign for my Independence. After hammering away at Granny's strict ideologies, she finally acquiesced and allowed me to have more autonomy regarding my traveling arrangements. As Granny became busy with the other grandchildren, she made a more permanent arrangement for the guards to retrieve me from school.

Life became interesting because I would often ask them to stop at some of my favorite places on the way home. They were usually coerced by my grandmother not to give in to my whims, but after presenting my own persuasive arguments, sometimes I was able to break their strict regiment.

However, on a chilly December afternoon, two security guards came to retrieve me, they were not the same guards that Granny or my father usually sent, so the school called to make sure everything was in order. The guards checked out to be alright, and their mission was to get me home as soon as possible. Apparently these guards were not too familiar with Kingston and we soon made a detour that took us to the outskirts of nowhere.

Although, I was versed in my address and directions of certain locations, I had no idea where we were. We drove around in circles for an hour or so. In those days there weren't any cell phones so it was difficult to get word to anyone. At first, I was calm, but when I realized that the two guards had no idea where they were going and that we were truly lost. I became very concerned, because dusk was slowly approaching. Apparently, we had veered off to an area outside of Barbican.

I knew that my Granny Gheeta would be worried and fuming, the thought of her patrolling up and down made me even more anxious. Finally, as we drove around in circles, I noticed there were small congregations of Indians standing on the corner of houses. I tapped on one of the guards shoulders and said, "Ask somebody in that group over there, I'm sure someone will know!"

Trained and skilled guards are usually very ambivalent to ask strangers for assistance. Their best recourse was to proceed to a Police Station. While we continued on the journey looking for a station, we saw a Police car whirring its siren behind us, and guess who was in the back of their car........? Granny Gheeta.

The police approached the car cautiously to make sure everything was okay. The guards explained what happened and their story appeared to be genuine to the Police. After they made sure the coast was clear, Granny Gheeta embarked from the vehicle with open arms exclaiming, "Where's my grandchild?".

"My goodness gracious, are you okay darling?"

"Yes, Granny, I am fine, we could have been home a long time ago. I told the guards to ask the people standing on the corner. They wouldn't."

Granny commented, "I know, they are trained not to. But it's alright, I called my goodfriend Mr. Rhambuttan and he is a "Lodge Man", before you know it, the word was out, so everybody was looking for you. Your grandfather knows every Police Officer from here to Oracabessa, so, it was only a matter of time."

"Well, Thank God Granny! This is one time I am glad you are very meddlesome!"

Granny Gheeta smiled. That day may have been an innocent occurrence, however, it made my grandmother and my family more aware, how important it is to pay attention , and to always entrust important tasks to themselves.

Therefore, eventhough I was approaching my pre-teen years, Granny gladly resumed her role of retrieving me from school even when I had become a seasoned teenager.

Granny always said, "If you want a job done correctly, without any flaws, you have to do it yourself !"

Tags: Granny Questions "Where is My Grandchild?"

Granny Gheeta and the Ghost of Mrs. Podmajah

Margaret Juliet Bailey — Mon, 24 Jan 2011 08:30:01 UT

Jamaican culture is filled with tales of wonderful folklore. Anansi and "duppy" stories help to create a legacy that is rich in history and sinister happenings.. A national pastime of older Jamaicans is sitting down and talking about the dearly departed. Their banter usually includes how many times they had sightings of the dead person, the dreams they had concerning them, and the most morbid details of reliving the day when they were buried.

Jamaicans are the only folks I know who love to take pictures of funerals as if they were conducting a photo shoot. Seriously, how many poses can you get of a corpse?

Jamaicans work the camera as if they were getting ready for "Funeraria Vogue". For days, they talk about how lovely the person looked, what they were wearing etc. Jamaicans are very much like Egyptians, their dead, gets buried with everything except the kitchen sink.

When one gets old in Jamaica, their favorite subject is of the dead. Therefore, if you are going to be around them, it is prudent to get a macabre nature, appreciating all things dead or decaying.

I was a little girl when Granny's friend, Mrs. Podmajah passed away. Although she was a good friend of Granny Gheeta, they spent a lot of time arguing. They argued about everything. From how to cook to how to raise the children. They were constantly bickering. Despite of all of their "run ins", they always looked out for each other.

Granny would often say, "There is no ghost like an Indian ghost. If you think I am miserable and terrible now, wait until I am gone?"

This phrase always scared the goodness into us, because when Granny Gheeta went on a tirade, everyone ran for cover, so we could only imagine how she would be if there weren't any boundaries.

We knew that when Granny Gheeta died, she would be a force to reckon with.

So, when Mrs. Podmajah passed away, Granny conducted a grand puja throughout the house. Granny cleansed the house and burned incense from dawn till dusk. when I asked her why was she smoking us all out, she said, "Although I really cared for Mrs. Podmajah, I know that she is going to want to visit all the time, but she has to understand that we are on different plains now."

I was startled by her remark and questioned her further. "What do you mean Granny?"

She continued, seriously, "Sometimes when people die, it takes a while for them to know they are dead, so they roam around until someone banishes them. The dead and the living cannot mix all the time."

This information seemed a bit "far out" for me, but it was just another wacky day with Granny Gheeta. She would make sure that the house always had bright colors in it, because she said that spirits did not like bright colors.

Therefore, when Mrs. Podmajah died Granny Gheets was on a watch and pray mission. The day of the ninth night, when family members and friends celebrate the life of the deceased, Granny was busy keeping unwanted guests out of Mrs. Podmajah's house. It seemed as if all the vultures descended as soon as the word was spread about Mrs. P's death.

People robbed her garden of flower pots, they helped themselves to her fine china and valuable furniture pieces. Mrs. P only had one son who had lived in England for several years. He basically came to bury his mother and wanted to return immediately to the UK, however his wife had other ideas. Her eyes brightened as if she had struck gold when she saw the contents of Mrs. Podmajah's house.

Mrs. P had died and left a substantial amount of money for her philanthropic endeavors. This decision was not accepted by the younger, Mrs.Podmajah, she was determined to take all that was able to fit in her suitcase or a barrel, back to the United Kingdom.

Granny Gheeta was so horrified by the cold, calculating nature of Mrs. Podmajah's daugter-in-law, that she often stood at her gate many evenings with her fan and a broom. She was determined to preserve the legacy of Mrs. P.

After the will had been read, many distant relations, helped themselves to her pots, pans, figurines, window dressings and silverware. While everyone else was busy pillaging, the daughter-in-law, Savla was helping herself to every piece of jewelry and the Saris Mrs. P owned.

Granny Gheeta tried her best to fight off the scavengers, but they were too crafty for her. Granny told me that Savla went In the middle of the night to Madden's funeral home and helped herself to Mrs. P's watch, earrings, nose ring, anklets and rings. She even exchanged the swarovski crystal sari for a cheaper version and replaced the jewelry with cubic zirconia replicas.

Granny also predicted that on the night before Savla and her husband were planning to depart for England, that Mrs. P's ghost was going to show up. That evening, Granny fasted and prayed, she sat in the dark watching Mrs. Podmajah's house for the arrival of her ghost. Granny fell asleep, then she told me she felt a cool, swift breeze, and she woke up briskly to a tap on her knee. When she looked across the front yard, she saw Mrs. P. in a white sari saunter through the front gate and proceeded into the guest room. The next thing Granny Gheets heard was horrible shrieking.

Granny remained praying the whole night, until she received a phone call from one of her neighbors alerting her to what had happened. Mrs. Podmajah was a busy ghost that night. Everyone who violated her personal belongings, got a slap acoss the face resulting into several cricked necks.

While Granny was on the phone, she glimpsed, Savla getting into a car bound for the Airport. Granny noticed that her neck was in a cast and her face was twisted.

I ran to Granny's side, urging her to end her phonecall, "Granny, Granny, something has happened to the lady visitor next door. Come, Granny......Come!"

Granny ended her call and glanced quickly through the window. "Magli, didn't I tell you, that this would happen? Mrs. Podmajah was a very busy spirit last night. They should have never messed with her belongings."

Granny took me by my tiny hands, and said, "Never mess with anyone's effects when they die. Wait, for them to convey their wishes. If they want you to have a momento to remember them, they will put it in writing, but never you go and help yourself. That daugter-in-law will never have any peace, neither will any of those people who violated her property."

I looked at Granny with innocent eyes, "So Granny Gheeta, if you die, can I play with your things?"

She answered sternly, "You don't play with my things now, why would you want to play with them when I am gone. Just remember, to respect dead peoples' things!"

Mrs. Podmajah's house became known as the haunted house on the block, partly because her soul and personal property were violated as soon as she died. No one had the decency to wait a while before dividing her belongings. Granny swore that she often saw her ghost in a very distressed condition, lamenting over her things.

People may say the dead have no power, but from my childhood experience I know that a soul that is ill at rest, becomes a restless and mischievous spirit.

Granny Gheeta felt that whenever she misplaced an object in her house, that Mrs. Podmajah was around, reminding her to protect her personal items.

Spirits have a way of resurfacing, sometimes to tell stories or to protect those they love from harm. I should know, Granny Gheeta's busier now, than when she was alive, constantly reminding me of my Indian culture.

She always said, "There is no ghost like an Indian ghost."

Tags: Granny Gheeta and The Ghost of Mrs. Podmajah

Granny Gheeta's Night at The Mall

Margaret Juliet Bailey — Mon, 13 Dec 2010 08:30:01 UT

The Holidays are always a hectic time of year for most people around the world. Although most Granny pride themselves on staying ahead of the chaotic holiday rush, there are times when tradition has to be broken to add a little Holiday Spirit.

My Granny always scolded me about the Western World and how important it was to stay true to my heritage. She disliked certain pastimes of western culture, such as hanging out, going to the mall and talking slang.

I remembered a Holiday Season where Granny Gheeta had bought a lovely sari for the seasons' festivities. Eventhough she had made the measurements quite clear to the seamstress, somewhere along the way, the length of the sari was bungled. By the time Granny received the sari, the sandal she had planned to wear with it, had become inappropriate because the hem of the sari was left dragging on the ground.

Granny Gheeta was quite put off by the shoddy workmanship of the seamstress. She went on and on about the gown's length and how she had the perfect sandals to wear with it, and now she had to reorganize her attire for the Holiday. Granny felt that if she sent the Sari back to India for alterations, she would not receive the outfit back in time for her special event. Therefore, she ranted and raved for hours to ease her frazzled mind. At first, it was funny to hear Granny Gheeta going on and on about the error of the seamstress, then it became laborious to hear her kevetching.

So, I suggested to Granny for us to go to the Mall. To Granny Gheeta, that suggestion was like an invitation to the electric chair. She commented, "The Mall? What for? So people can toss and push me like cattle, no thank you Dearie. Those are western ways."

I persisted, "But Granny, you love that sari, and your mind is set on wearing it to the Christmas Pageant. C'mon Granny, I understand your feelings about the mall, it is kind of crowded during the holidays, but think of it as going on a Safari........"

My eyes brightened with great expectation, awaiting Granny Gheeta's response. After several minutes of sweetening her up, and rubbing her shoulders, I finally got a response.

"Oh, alright, but we are going straight to the shoe department at Maribou and then back home, so just hold your head straight. No looking in the other stores....eh?"

I must admit, I did have a hidden agenda of wanting to go to the Mall, however, Granny was so stern about her intentions, I knew we had to play this expedition her way.

Whenever Granny went out, it was a family event. Everyone in the entire household had to go.

So, off we went in my uncle's fiat to the mall. Whenever I was out in public with Granny Gheeta, I always felt like we were the Mumbai entourage, there was always tons of excitement, people staring and chattering. This occurred mostly, because Granny Gheeta was quite different. She paraded arounded in her saris night and day and often wore shoes that curled at their tippy toes. She never left the house unless she had a few choice gems adorning her person.

Granny was a star at doing everything just right, never wearing too much perfume, jewelry or accessories. She had a regal style about her.

Granny always looked as if she had just stepped off Air India, well dressed with bag and baggage. She had to carry several bottles of water, snacks and medicines.....Just in case. I often had to remind her that we are not going off to war, just to the mall. But she would not indulge "any of my nonsense" as she would call it.

"It is good to be prepared. Suppose my "sugar" starts acting up, I have a little juice to build me back up. No, I have to bring my own things. I can't rely on, IF the stores are open, or IF they even have places to accommodate me. You children would do well taking a page out of my book."

She was always instructing everyone all the time, because it was important for her to maintain order and decorum. Going out with her, was like parading with an Empress who was inspecting the Universe. Most places either inspired her curiosity or ired her to no end.

Nevertheless, we sauntered through the Mall like the Banjalli Connection, making a path straight through to Maribou, where they sold, uncommon shoes and sandals for discerning people.....

Granny Gheeta was the type of woman who knew what she wanted when she stepped into any establishment. Within a few seconds, she could determine if the store possessed what she was looking for.

Granny perused for a few seconds, then made her selection. It was the most bedazzled sandals I had ever seen in my life. It was petite and dainty, with tiny straps and tons of rhinestones adorning the toe area. It was the perfect height. Granny brought her sari to make sure of it. She beckoned the Sales Girl to bring her a 1/2 size bigger, because the pair she tried on, had pinched her feet .

The store was crowded, and the Sales Girl seemed a flustered, almost unable to handle the shopping frenzy that was going on in the store. The Manager seemed to be too busy with a personal call. After making several attempts to get sales attention, Granny became unnerved by the lack of respect that she was receiving.

Suddenly, Granny's frail, little voice became several octaves high, demanding sales help. The Sales Girl seemed perturbed by my grandmother's insistence for wanting proper assistance. Granny had several grandchildren in tow, and she was annoyed that the Sales Girl had sassed her.

It showed a complete disregard for her presence and patronage. The girl finally sauntered over with two different sizes, suggesting that Granny needn't bother her again...At least for a little while.

The 61/2 seemed like the perfect fit for Granny, so she scrutinized the shoes to make sure they were the same size, and that there weren't any nicks or flaws. She summoned both the Store Manager and the Sales Girl to retrieve the remaining shoes in the box on the chair. However, they ignored her request. While Granny stood at the register paying for her shoes, I glimpsed a woman put a box of shoes in her toddler's pram and sashayed out of the store.

Granny Gheeta always taught me, "Hear No Evil, See No Evil, Speak No Evil".....So, I did not repeat what I had seen.

As Granny finished paying for the shoes she had selected, both the Store Manager and the Sales Girl were in a frenzy, barraging my Granny about the remaining pair of shoes. Granny Gheeta told them she left the shoes on the chair next to her. The Sales Girl shrieked, "The shoes are missing, where are they!!!?"

Granny answered, "Miss, I summoned both you and the Manager as I made my selection and prepared to pay at the register. You both ignored me! I am not surprised that you can't find the shoes in this chaos."

The Manager and the girl gave Granny Gheeta a dirty look. At first, I never thought much of it, but then, when the Manager insisted on calling Security, I pinched my Granny.

I said, "I saw a lady come in with a baby pram, she just took the shoes and put it under the baby's blankie and went right out of the store. I wasn't sure if it was your pair of shoes, because I couldn't see from where we were standing. But now, I am positive, it was the other pair of shoes that the Sales Girl brought over."

Granny Gheeta turned to the Manager and repeated what I had told her. The Manager looked on in disbelief and insisted on calling for Security, although Granny had paid for her selected purchase. The Manager continued in an accusatory tone.

Granny immediately realized that both the Manager and the Sales Girl were about to pull a nasty stunt by framing her for the disappearance of the shoes. She quickly got on the phone and called P.J. Bhoorasang, Esq. of Bhoorasang & Bhoorasang to come straight to the Mall.

It was a good thing that Granny had the foresight to do so, the next thing we knew, the Security was mishandling my grandmother, and trying to haul her off for questioning. My uncle and my cousins explained to the officers that the store was neglectful with their merchandise, and that my Granny had only requested one pair of shoes . Therefore, it was the Sales Girl's responsibility to make sure her items were accounted for. She should have been more diligent with the stores' merchandise.

We got the general sense, since we were foreigners, and that my Granny was clad in her ethnic attire, they had no interest in acknowledging the truth. The store was only interested in making a scapegoat out of someone, because they did not want to be responsible for paying for the items themselves.

Mr.P.J. Bhoorasang arrived just in time to straighten out the entire Mall. He listened to the chatterings of the stores' staff, he spoke to my Granny, and then he listened to my account of what I had seen happen in the store. They illegally, strip-searched my Granny and found nothing, except the shoes she had paid for. Neither of us had any other bags on us. So, it was a clear, cut case of racism and prejudice.

Mr. P.J. Bhoorasang made it very obvious that they did not have probable cause to accuse my Granny of such a deed. He emphasized, that they owed her an appology because she was an upright, and standing citizen of the United States of America and a National Treasure of Jamaica. He re-iterated, that such indignities were an unforgiveable violation of Human Rights. He felt that their actions were demeaning to one of her stature.

The stores' staff were suddenly apologetic to my Granny, offering her all sorts of discounts and free merchandise, for fear of a lawsuit pertaining to slander and defamation of character. My Granny turned to them calmly and stoicly, replying, "The only thing I want at this time is a refund. I am returning these shoes. I refuse to wear merchandise for any company that lacks class and decorum."

The Management of Maribou were so embarassed and ridden with guilt that they gave my Granny a gift card for a lifetime of free shoes. Graciously, she declined.

Granny felt, in life some things can not be bought or pacified. They had tried to strip her of her dignity and pride, simply because she was from a foreign land.

With that said, my Granny Gheeta brushed off her sari, straightened her posture and departed the Security office with her head held high and P.J. Bhoorasang, Esquire at her side, and the rest of us, her entourage trailing behind.

Once Granny had simmered down and recuperated from this horrifying experience, she put things in perspective by saying, "This is the reason why, we always have to cling to our culture. We, have a legacy and heritage to embrace and others will always try to taint it with their atrocities and indecencies. When we venture completely into the "other world" we become open targets. That is why too much western world is not good!"

I felt remorseful for having coerced Granny into going to the mall. She comforted me by saying, "Sweetheart, perhaps what happened today, will set a precedence for other minorities. Maybe folks will not be too quick to judge books by their covers?"

Granny's words of comfort provided a little relief, however, in Jamaica we have a saying, "Follow your spirit", I had felt that I had persuaded Granny not to follow hers, which resulted in bacanal.

On that day, Granny Gheeta made me realize why it was important for minorities, to let other nationalities seek them out, and for them to refrain from western influences. Because when something goes wrong, "they" are always looking for a Fall Guy or Girl, and will be more than willing to sacrifice an outsider.

Despite the degrading events that had occured, we all went on to have a wonderful Holiday Season. The world may have tried to dampen our spirits, but we had God on our side and that made all the difference.

Tags: Granny Gheeta's Night at The Mall

Granny Gheeta's Observations on Food Preparation

Margaret J Bailey — Mon, 22 Nov 2010 09:30:01 UT

Granny Gheeta was a woman who enjoyed good food, family and friends, and although she liked entertaining at home, she also enjoyed the occasional night out at a favorite restaurant, or Brunch at a nice cafe'.

Granny Gheeta was a person that most would call a "finicky eater". She was never one to indulge and partake in food just because everyone declared it was appetizing or delicious. She had certain rules when it came to the preparation of her food , and the food of her family.

If one wanted to appease Granny and have her join them in Breakfast, Dinner or Lunch. They had to follow her strict rules.

The preparer had to wash his/her hands thoroughly, and all straying hairs had to be put away neatly into a chignon or under a cap. Granny Gheeta loathed when people would touch themselves or pick parts on their bodies and then set out to prepare food or drinks. She felt that this was an appalling habit and lacked good manners. If a person had to sneeze while preparing food, she felt they usually had a few seconds warning, therefore they were able to excuse themselves and spare the recipients of the meal any unnecessary germs.

It is said, that when food is thoroughly cooked and prepared, the consumers are blessed, nourished and enriched by the experience. However, when there is no love or caring put into the preparation of meals, it makes the eaters very fussy and most of the times they do not enjoy the meal.

When it came to partaking in a good meal, My Granny Gheeta was not above, the scratch, sniff amd smell test. She would take her fork and casually peruse the food, once satisfied, she would smell and then indulge.

She would matter-of-factly comment to me, "Ms Mags, not everything that smells delicious, means it is good to eat."

Most people who are acquainted with cooking and food preparation, can attest to the difference when a meal is cooked with enthusiasm as opposed to being tossed together.

Granny Gheeta would tell me about her idiosyncracies when it came to her enjoying a good meal. If one were purchasing meats and the blood was dripping around it, Granny often felt that there was something terribly wrong with the product. She often warned us to stay clear of blood-dripping meat. Some folks would think it meant that the meat was fresh, however, Granny felt it meant the contrary. Also, if the meat had a dull look to it, Granny advised it was best to keep looking for a cleaner, fresh cut of meat.

Granny had a staunch rule about meal preparation. If a woman or young lady was experiencing that time of the month, they were not allowed to handle any form of food or drink preparation until their time had passed. They weren't even allowed to step into the kitchen. They were waited on hand and foot until their condition had ceased. In Jamaica some men are very uncomfortable eating food prepared by a pregnant or menstruating woman. Primarily, it is because of all the changes that a woman endures during the months of her pregnancy or when she is having a visit from Mother Nature.

Granny Gheeta knew that human beings' bodies were temples, and whatever sustenace they put into it, whether it was healthy or unnutritious. It reflected in the health of their bodies, minds and spirits. Just like all the objects that surround us, food has energy, and if the most purest and well meaning energies are not put into food. Sometimes it has the ability to make the consumers feel ill beyond their wildest imagination.

How many times have we heard someone drop dead after eating a plate of food? When I first learned to cook, it was a joke used to make light of a beginner's cooking skills. But there is some truth, that if a meal is ill-prepared, it can make the consumer deathly ill or have an adverse reaction.

At a very early age, my Granny taught me the dos and don'ts of preparing food, which resulted in me being an extremely particular epicurean. When I was a little girl I hated to eat meat. In those days we didn't know about mad cow disease or any of the other maladies that have befell the meat industry. However, as a child, my intuition always herald what was right for me. It was a strange occurrence, especially since my culture involved cuisine that was filled with meat consumption. Never has there been a generation that has suffered from colon cancer, such as our generation.

Since we have entered the Milennium, so many Scientists have uncovered research that has explained the negative effects meat has on the human body, because it takes a very long time to be digested in our systems.

After reminiscing about Granny Gheeta's thoughts on meat, I have come to the conclusion that the quality of meats that we have today is far inferior than years gone by. We really do not know what we are purchasing in the grocery stores. Once we have cooked the meats in high degreed temperatures to kill the bacteria, what is usually left is a taste of rubber. The flavour is usually gone.

Most food connoisseurs will confirm that the meats of today do not have the same healthy, enticing taste it had many years ago. Thus leading the current generation to indulge in vegan and macrobiotic diets.

Perhaps, Granny Gheeta new an ancient secret before anyone else did. Our society is looking a lot younger and healthier because we have learned to be intelligent about our meat consumption and purchasing.

Granny Gheeta often suggested that a life worth savoring is not one that is consumed with products that comfort, or make us feel good temporarily. But a life is best sustained by the foods that naturally, nourish and heal.

As Granny Gheeta would say, eat well, nourish your soul and praise God!

Margeret J. Bailey
Sole Proprietor
Maggie's Poetic Delights

Tags: Granny Gheeta's Observations on Food Preparation

Granny and I: Granny Gheeta's Views on Hoarding

Margaret Bailey — Mon, 18 Oct 2010 11:40:00 UT

In today's society a label is placed on every idiosyncratic behaviour that a human being possesses, however some of these labels have no bearing on sensible human practices. One of my Granny's most eccentric behaviours was saving for a "rainy" day.

It wasn't so much pertaining to money, as it was mostly concerning items. Whether it was grocery items, shopping for clothes or sundries. Granny Gheeta always encouraged us never to be "last minute Hannahs or Harrys".

My Granny Gheeta was always preparing, "Just in case there was an emergency". She was always getting ready for Floods, Hurricanes, Earthquakes and the, Oh so dreaded, Nuclear War.

Granny would go to the grocery store and if they would have items on sale, it would really be quite difficult for her to get just one. You see, Granny practiced the "Noah's Ark Philosophy". She had to purchase two of everything or sometimes in triplicate.

I would look at her in amazement, thinking, "Granny are you having a party?"

She would casually respond, "No. But you never know when there might be a shortage. Besides, the items are on sale."

After a while, Granny's pantry began to look like the local grocery store. When she would often say, "I soon come back, I am going to the market."

I would respond, "No need Granny, why don't you just go shopping in the pantry."

Her response would be, "Those items are for a rainy day."

It didn't matter what Granny was shopping for, whether it were clothing and sundries, she often bought in bulk. I never understood the method to her madness until various situations came about.

When a hurricane came to Jamaica and stores were closed and the roads were filled with all sorts of debris and obstacles. Granny Gheeta was never in a quandry or worried about the circumstances. She never ran around frantic or at her wit's end because she had been taken by surprise. All she had to do was, take a trip to her pantry. She was able to sustain the family with her supplies. There were many times when my Granny rescued her neighbors and friends because she always made sure to have surplus items in case of emergencies.

When it came to shopping for clothes, one would think that Granny had a heavy social schedule. She was always purchasing the most exquisite gowns and saris, just in case......

I often wondered, "Just in case the Queen dropped in, just in case she took ill....."

It was a mystery, yet, Granny always purchased as if expecting a big gala.

Granny's lessons on hoarding was , "Always be prepared."

She would say, "Suppose you get invited out somewhere elegant. Are you going to run around like "a chicken without a head" to try and find a suitable outfit?"

"Wouldn't you rather just saunter to your closet and pick something that's already there? Most of the times when people make last minute purchases, it is never what they want,or they end up paying an astronomical amount on something they barely like."

I pondered her answers for a moment, and realized that there was definitely a method to her madness. Over the many years, I saw my Granny come to the rescue of family members with her bulk buying.

When times were hard and Granny Gheeta had to be frugal with her gift giving, she would say "I love You" with food. Which I believe is a very Jamaican way of how most people express their feelings for loved ones in our culture. Hence, the terminology, "I love you like cooked food."

For Granny, hoarding was a way of saving money, and not making bad or rash choices in times of necessity or emergency.

As I grew older and had places to go and people to see, when I experienced difficulty finding an outfit of my desire, I always knew that I could raid Granny's closet.

She had many saris, evening dresses and Lhengas with the price tags just waiting for someone to give them a night out on the town. Her taste was always classic and elegant, so these items never really went out of style.

Which brings to me to another one of her teachings, "Never buy too many products that are considered a fad, because their life span will be limited. She often stressed it was better to be a classic beauty than a fashion icon."

Granny Gheeta felt that classic beauties never go out of style or become unfashionable. They always get better with time.When it came to proving her fashion points, Granny always referred to Jackie Onassis as an example.

She always reminded, "Everything that becomes old, will be new again, that's a fact of life."

So although many people in modern day society may scoff at folks who buy items in bulk and save most things. I have to say, that there is merit in some of these practices.

Although, in today's society, for many, space is often the issue. Sometimes we may want to practice preparedness, but not at the risk of overpowering ourselves with household items and groceries.

Once I matured into adulthood, and my Granny Gheeta got older, I also realized that she had developed an unusual attachment to certain old items.

It seemed that as people got older they sometimes developed the "pack rat" syndrome. They found it hard to divest themselves of certain paraphenelia from the past. Suddenly every household item or object had history and sentimentality and they could not bear to part with them.

In situations like these, one had to take the "bull by the horn" and implement organization. If the items were not used in the past decade, then it was time to say, "Adios Amigos!"

Because of her age, Granny Gheeta had a difficult time with this concept.

She defended her stance by saying, "The younger generation had no reverence for preservation of legacy!!!!"

I believe in some instances she was correct, because I have seen trends experience a cyclical rejuvenation. However, holding on to magazines, circus and theatre tickets from the year of naught really served no purpose unless one was planning to open a museum.

Therefore, as we approached the modern times it became a labor of love helping my Granny Gheeta let go of some of the baggage she hoarded from the past. During these efforts I realized how wonderful and nostalgic past memories can be. I also became aware that traveling light could be overrated, especially when the truly meaningful memories have been omitted from our lives.

Most people may say, that one knows when he/she has arrived because they travel minus baggage and only bring themselves. But I think that when one truly arrives he/she knows just what to bring from the past, so that they can enter the future and the present with confidence.

Tags: Granny and I: Granny Gheeta's Views on Hoarding

Granny Gheeta and the Fric and Frac Syndrome

Margaret Juliet Bailey — Mon, 20 Sep 2010 08:30:01 UT

Many say love is a very splendored thing, however my Granny had differing views when it came to matters of the heart. She felt that two people should be well-suited for each other and that it was important that they were going in the same direction and not taking each other off their predestined course.

Her personal view was that Love was a matter of destiny and a test in suitable matchmaking by the Universe. Granny Gheeta knew love should not be forced or manipulated, if it was meant to be, then all matters would flow accordingly.

Granny Gheeta would often explain, that in life, women and men tended to get persuaded into falling in love when the object of their desire was not what they really wanted. It was her observation, that they would forego all the negatives of a relationship just to declare that they had acquired a paramour at their side.

Granny often gave her female granchildren a hard time when it came to matters of the heart because she felt that they had a tendency to follow-up situations that had no relevance to the endurance of their realtionships.

In her mind, she was convinced it was an Art to keep the interest of a husband/wife, or boyfriend/girlfriend. She often frowned when her grandchildren got carried away by the "Fric and Frac" syndrome. The time in a relationship when one or both partners find it absolutely necessary to spend each waking moment together, until it got to the brink of cloying observers' stomaches and irritating themselves.

Her views on love were reminiscient to the teachings of the poet Khalil Gabran. Love only happened over many years of knowing each other and experiencing the thorns that life had to offer. In her mind, she felt it was during these times that Lovers found out what their partner was made of. She felt that clinging or holding on too tight to someone, only pushed them further away, because the heart needed time to practice the art of missing the object of one's affections. Granny Gheeta often emphasized that love was a state of mind and that it was possible to be away from someone and still feel very connected.

When any of her grandchildren had a meltdown regarding their relationships because they were quarreling for more time or attention. She would always respond. "Sometimes all that togetherness is not good, you have to give each other space, so that you miss each other."

Granny often commented, "If two people become like Fric and Frac, joined at the hip, after a while, one or both partners will get tired and move on to greener pastures. Like plants, love needs space and oxygen to grow.

During her lifetime, Granny was privy to many dramas of teenage boyfriend/girlfriend scenarios. The complaints were always the same, "Granny, he/she doesn't spend enough time with me, or why can't we do things together?"

Granny abhored these pesky complaints because she knew that if each person lived their life normally and kept their committment in mind, the relationship would eventually progress to an ultimate meeting of the minds.

She always scolded, that it was not necessary to always become suspicious of your paramour if he/she wanted to go off on a tangent. Her thoughts insinuated that some men had a tendency to want to explore life, and it was a woman's place to distract herself with other important matters. If one ignored these moments and did not succumb to his flakiness, a woman would eventually see the rainbow on the other side of the relationship.

Granny Gheeta was sure that if one chose to compete with a partner or keep score of their misgivings, it would lead to a path of whackiness and unhappiness. It was setting each other up for a lifetime of misery.

Playing Nancy Drew or Ellery Queen whenever a love interest acted "off kilter" would only end up to a well deserved stay in Bellevue.

My Granny often stressed the differences between men and women, and how they loved differently. It was her opinion, that a smart woman would rise above any occasion a man subjected her to, and that a man would eventually surrender to a woman who gives him a "run for his money".

It was her staunch belief, that even after marriage it was important for both parties to keep the mystery going. Therefore, it was important for both parties to nix the idea of "shacking up" before marriage.

It was more exciting and fun to let the drama of every day living unfold after the "I Dos".

When it came to matters of the heart Granny Gheeta was like a genie in a bottle, she understood that love did not run smoothly; however if each partner operated on their own frequency while knowing the secret of being spiritually connected to each other, there wasn't a need to have a dead man's hold which would eventually strangle the relationship.

All of Granny's teachings about relationships and love seemed to be overly ambitious, and a goal to attain, but with maturity it all seemed to make sense. If we started relationships in a disciplined manner with positive end results in mind, there would not be a chance to lose at LOVE. Allowing it to unfold gently, and magically like a rose, would eventually bring about the results we yearn for.

Tags: Granny Gheeta and the Fric and Frac Syndrome

Granny and I: Granny Gheeta and The Fric and Frac Drama

Margaret Bailey — Mon, 23 Aug 2010 08:45:03 UT

Her personal view was that Love was a matter of destiny and a test in suitable matchmaking by the Universe. Granny Gheeta knew love should not be forced or manipulated, if it was meant to be, then all matters would flow accordingly.

Granny Gheeta would often explain, that in life, women and men tended to get persuaded into falling in love when the object of their desire was not what they really wanted. It was her observation, that they would forego all the negatives of a relationship just to declare that they had acquired a paramour at their side.

Granny often gave her female granchildren a hard time when it came to matters of the heart because she felt that they had a tendency to follow-up situations that had no relevance to the endurance of their realtionships.

In her mind, she was convinced it was an Art to keep the interest of a husband/wife, or boyfriend/girlfriend. She often frowned when her grandchildren got carried away by the "Fric and Frac" syndrome. The time in a relationship when one or both partners find it absolutely necessary to spend each waking moment together, until it got to the brink of cloying observers' stomaches and irritating themselves.

When any of her grandchildren had a meltdown regarding their relationships because they were quarreling for more time or attention. She would always respond. "Sometimes all that togetherness is not good, you have to give each other space, so that you miss each other."

Granny often commented, "If two people become like Fric and Frac, joined at the hip, after a while, one or both partners will get tired and move on to greener pastures. Like plants, love needs space and oxygen to grow.

During her lifetime, Granny was privy to many dramas of teenage boyfriend/girlfriend scenarios. The complaints were always the same, "Granny, he/she doesn't spend enough time with me, or why can't we do things together?"

Granny abhored these pesky complaints because she knew that if each person lived their life normally and kept their committment in mind, the relationship would eventually progress to an ultimate meeting of the minds.

She always scolded, that it was not necessary to always become suspicious of your paramour if he/she wanted to go off on a tangent. Her thoughts insinuated that some men had a tendency to want to explore life, and it was a woman's place to distract herself with other important matters. If one ignored these moments and did not succumbto a man's flakiness, a woman would eventually see the rainbow on the other side of the relationship.

Granny Gheeta was sure that if one chose to compete with a partner or keep score of their misgivings, it would lead to a path of whackiness and unhappiness. It was setting each otherup for a lifetime of misery.

Playing Nancy Drew or Ellery Queen whenever a love interest acted "off kilter" would only end up to a well deserved stay in Bellevue.

My Granny often stressed thedifferences between men and women, and how they loved differently. It was her opinion, that a smart woman would rise above any occasion a man subjected her to, and that a man would eventually surrender to a woman who gave him a "run for his money".

It was her staunch belief, that even after marriage it was important for both parties to keep the mystery going. Therefore, it was prudent for both parties to nix the idea of "shacking up" before marriage.

It was more exciting and fun to let the drama of every day living unfold after the "I Dos".

When it came to matters of the heart Granny Gheeta was like a genie in a bottle, she understood that love did not run smoothly; however if each partner operated on their own frequency, while knowing the secret of being spiritually connected to each other, there wasn't a need to have a dead man's hold which would eventually strangle the relationship.

All of Granny's teachings about relationships and love seemed to be overly ambitious, and a goal to attain, but with maturity it all seemed to make sense. If we started relationships in a disciplined manner with positive end results in mind, there would not be a chance to lose at LOVE. Allowing it toreveal itself gently, and magically like a rose, would eventually bring about the results we yearn for.

Tags: Granny and I: Granny Gheeta and The Fric and Frac Drama

Granny and I: Granny Gheeta and the Engagement of Madame Bhangrasang's Daughter

Margaret Bailey — Mon, 19 Jul 2010 08:45:02 UT

This is a Indo-Jamaican story that I am sure most people can relate to because it pertains to family life and the bethrothal of young ladies within the family unit.

My Granny Gheeta was a woman of discerning taste, she knew a lot of people, however she only called a selected few her true friends. Madame Bhangrasang was one of them. Her and Granny Gheeta shared a lot in common. They both were estranged from their husbands and were confronted with the challenge of raising female children by themselves.

Although some people would attest that it is easier raising boys than girls. Granny Gheeta always felt, girls were so much more interesting, filled with all sorts of drama.

When Madame Bhangrasang announced that her youngest daughter had finally found a suitable match through a notable Astrologer, she could not contain herself with joy. It was so long in the making that she declared the following week her family's week of engagement celebration.

Madame Bhangrasang had lived a life filled with pomp and circumstances due to her estranged husband's Diplomatic core. It was very rare that Madame Bhangrasang referred to her previous life. However, she kept in touch with the dignitaries' wives whom she had become acquainted with over the years. So, when her youngest daughter declared that she had finally found a suitable match, she felt it was time to dust off her old phone book and ring all the phones throughout the world.

Granny Gheeta was assigned to be her right hand person in all the engagement celebration. Ashir was Madame Bhangrasang's most tedious daughter. She shunned tradition and preferred to be a tom-boy instead of dressing up in jewels and frocks. She could always be found playing cricket with the boys her age in the park or drag racing cars through Vernon Field. Her mother constantly gnawed at her, that time was running out and she had to decide on a proper choice for a husband. Every boy that her mother presented to her, she managed to find something wrong with them.

It became a task in futility. Madame Bhangrasang was resigned to the fact that her youngest daughter would end up being an old maid, living with a house full of cats and a barn filled with animals. Ashir showed no signs of wanting to be bothered with the opposite sex. She would date for a few months but her mother knew that after she became bored the guy was sure to get his pink slip handed to him at the front door.

After a few years it was no longer a family joke, Madame Bhangrasang feared that there was something seriously wrong with her daughter. She was not like the other girls, they all got married by the time they were 21. Ashir was rapidly drifting into her thirties and exhibited little signs of interest in a male counterpart unless it involved sports.

Her mother feared that her competitive spirit and outspoken manner would scare away the most well-meaning of souls. Therefore, Madame Bhangrasang decided to take drastic measures and enlist the help of a successfull Astrologer to find a mate for her precious Ashir. From the first meeting the Astrologer told Ashir's mother that it was going to be like trying to find a needle in a haystack. He told her bluntly that her daughter possessed a personality that only 1 percent of the world had.

In true astrological fashion, he also convinced her that all the planets had to be in alignment on the day that she meets her beloved, that would be the only way that a match for her would be successful. According to many older people, this was a once in a lifetime ocurrence.

Well, the Universe must have been looking out for her, because what was supposed to be a non-event, suddenly turned into "the event" of the season.

Granny Gheeta and Madame Bhangrasang planned a two-day engagement ceremony. The gown and saris were flown in from India. Granny Gheeta spent her days running all over Jamaica planning the elaborate menu and floral arrangements for the occasion.

The ceremony was set to be held on Madame Bhangrasang's brother's, farm. Her brother Harold, had a farm on the outskirts of Kingston. The occasion was set to be a two-day feast. Goats were being prepared to make curry goat and manish water. Every bakery in town was put on notice to provide the best in sweet delicacies for the occasion.

With all the planning in effect, everyone forgot to check the mood-o-meter of Ashir. It seemed that she was slowly becoming nervous about making the occasion official. The elaborate affair made every thing seem so real, leaving her little wiggle room. It meant that she had to go through with the nuptials. In her mind, it was a fate worst than going to the guillotine.

She felt that her sporting days would be over and that her independence would become non-existent. Panic began to set in.

A big tent was set up outside the house to hold the event. There were a few tables and chairs, and the place was mostly adorned with silk cushions in jewel tones. It seemed as if every Politician and member of Parliament was present at the event.

Ashir's intended Taj arrived early, eager to announce to the world that he had finally captured the heart of elusive Ashir. But, Ashir was nowhere to be found. Granny Gheeta and I set out to look for Ashir, but she was not in the house, she wasn't in the garden, we finally found her talking to the horses in the barn.

She asked them to give her a bray if she should go forward with the engagement or say nothing and she would not go through with it. The horses were braying frantically, Granny Gheeta urged her, "Come on Ashir, you look so pretty and everyone is waiting on you, besides, the horses have spoken. There's no turning back!"

She replied, "Ms. Gheeta, this is the end of life as I know it......."

Granny smiled, "Don't think of it that way, perhaps you will have found someone who is just as wild at heart like yourself. The stars never lie."

Reluctantly, Ashir picked up the bottom of her seafoam gown and followed Granny and myself back to the tent.

We all thought that it could have only been smooth sailing from then on. However, when the Pundit was about to do the blessing of the rings, Ashir excused herself to the ladies' room. Several minutes passed and Madame Bhangrasang feared that she had absconded out of town to escape the formality of everything. She went looking for Ashir, and found her hyperventilating in the bathroom.

Ashir asked her mother, "Is this normal, Mum?"

Madame Bhangrasang responded, "This is you in typical fashion, you were always impetuous as a child. Remember your first day of Kindergarten? You held on to the car door so tight, it took us hours to pry your hand from the door. You finally mustered the nerve to go in the class. After that, we couldn't get you to leave. I had never seen anyone so enthusiastic about Kindergarten after that day. Once you got the "hang" of it, you left us all in a cloud of smoke."

Ashir laughed through her tears and resigned herself to the fact that she was going forward with her decision and embarking on a new adventure. The rest of the two-day event went off without a hitch. All the guests were convinced that Ashir had found a suitable life partner. But like most Jamaican parents, Madame Bhangrasang wanted to make sure that Ashir's intended did not have any misconceptions of how he should treat her daughter.

She told Taj, "I beg of you to treat her properly, because if you don't, only God will be able to help you. She is the battle of Waterloo and Armageddon all in one."

Taj commented, "I know".

Madame Bhangrasang sealed their conversation with a hug, remarking, "There is nothing like knowing what you have....As long as you know, everything will be alright."

Tags: Granny and I talk about New Beginnings

Granny and I: #1 Member of The Rigid Old Timers Club

Margaret Bailey — Mon, 28 Jun 2010 09:00:01 UT

Most youngsters view their Grandparents as easy going and usually compliant with all their antics, however , this was not the situation with Granny Gheeta. Although she enjoyed spoiling her grandchildren, she had limitations and boundaries.

It is often said, that Grandparents are supposed to indulge their grandchildren in all their endeavors and be their staunch supporters, but Granny Gheeta had other ideas about Grandparenting.

Meltdowns, tantrums and dramas were not her favorite displays of human emotions. When most Grandmothers would cower and give in, Granny Gheeta used these opportunities to push hergrandchildrens' wills to the limit.

For instance, if one of her grandchildren became obnoxious or boisterous because he/ she did not get something they wanted, Granny Gheeta would not be swayed by bawling, screaming or stretching oneself out on the floor in an epileptic tantrum.

While passers-by would look on in dismay and repulsion, Granny Gheeta would whimisically carry on with her activities untill you either became exasperated and gave up, or reverted to your normal self. She didn't care if people stared at her or made crude remarks. She was intent on teaching a lesson. Eventhough as children we may have thought her actions cruel, the lesson she was trying to convey was, in life, people rarely get what they want.

Therefore, as I got older I pretty much knew the deal with Granny Gheeta, her idea of spoiling you came with a double edged sword. She didn't mind showering you with gifts if they were well deserved. However, if she felt that you were acting a bit "over the top" that's when she displayed her membership card as the #1 Member of the Rigid Old Timers Club.

Granny Gheeta always used these instances as opportunities to teach a lesson about life.

As her grandchildren grew older and life became more challenging, the depths of manipulating games became more intense.

As most Parents and Grandparents can attest, when children want their own way, there is no depths that they will not succumb to. They will use the remarks that they feel are sure to create ghasps and stop parents actions in their tracks, the "I'll run away syndrome", "I'm going to end it" and "Why don't you just drop dead!"

Granny Gheeta had a remedy for all these little dramas. For the "I'll run away syndrome", she would go out and buy you a nice outfit and get you some luggage, then polish her actions by saying, "We want you looking nice and pretty when you are on the run, we don't want you running around in shabby luggage now,....Do we?"

Her actions would ire and infuriate you, it made you think of another modus operandi in order to get your point accross. When most Grandparents would become frantic or "up in arms", not Granny Gheeta. She was an Outlaw when it came to her grandchildren acting up. She never gave in to dramatic episodes.

So when the stakes grew higher and the "I'll end it!" remarks got thrown around, her response to that was, "Fine, go ahead, do you want pain killers....How can I help you? Don't worry I'll make sure you have beautiful flowers on your grave."

It was another victory for Granny Gheeta, because you would just look at her as if she was crazy or a creature from another planet. Afterall, the shenanigans worked for all your other friends, why was it not working for you?

My answer to this was, that my Granny had a gold membership to the "Rigid Old Timers Club", where their motto was "We will not crack, wax or wane, even when our Grandchildren threaten us with shame."

After awhile, it became a scientific endeavor trying to get Granny Gheeta to acquiesce to our whims. Tantrums were taken to the highest level, and the "Drop dead" remark was born. In our minds we felt certain that this remark would appeal to her inner core and she was sure to cave in. At an early age television had taught us that most older people fear dropping dead, therefore this was going to be our best defense against Granny's Rules.

As it turned out, Granny Gheeta was looking forward to dropping dead. Her answer to this remark was a casual, "One can only hope, at least you children won't be able to stress me out any more......"

Then she managed to make us feel pangs of guilt because she enlightened us to the fact, we had been stressing her out. With this remark Granny Gheeta shamed us into behaving. We did not want to be responsible for her blood pressure soaring or a diabetic attack. She won another round quite easily and managed to squeeze angelic behavior out of us.

Eventually, the hint became quite clear, Granny Gheeta was not someone you could wrangle with. She was sweet an endearing in her own way, but she had set her parameters, and refused to be a doormat for any of her Grandchildren. We eventually gave up.

As time passed by and we got older, there was the occasional testing of Granny Gheeta. So when she would not buckle to our wishes, a casual, "You won't see me again!" would get thrown around.

In her feeble manner she would respond, "Do you promise...? Because these Birthday and Christmas presents are getting rather expensive as you folks get older."

At this point, her comments brought a smile to our faces, because eventhough the world had changed and other people around us may have shown their true colors.

Granny Gheeta remained the same. The lovable, stalworth, # 1 Platinum Member of the Rigid Old Timers Club.

Once Granny Gheeta passed away, her secret was revealed, it may have appeared that she tested our wills, and won. However, behind the scenes, she had cleverly worked her magic and made sure that we eventually got what we wanted through other people in our lives.

Her final lesson was, "Things usually work themselves out in the end."

Tags: Granny and I talk about New Beginnings

Granny and I: Granny Gheeta Talks about Crime in Jamaica

Margaret Bailey — Mon, 24 May 2010 08:45:01 UT

Granny Gheeta spent most of her life living inKingston

, where she was surrounded by the flow of a metropolis; as well as the changing conditions of a country under siege by criminals.

Granny spent most of her time in the house conducting her daily chores or going to the market to buy produce for meal preparation. She mostly viewed the "goings on" of the world through her lace curtains that adorned her window.

As political tensions rose in Jamaica, and the young generation became more truant, Granny witnessed many dsiplays of illegal activity in her neighborhood. She was never one to get involved in affairs that did not concern her, or to create waves. However, when it began affecting the quality of life that she had grown accustomed to, it really ired her wrath and made her more vocal about the matter.

Being elderly and surrounded by a generation who believed that there was no other alternative to life than to deal drugs, Granny felt that she had to take the necessary steps to protect herself. There were far too many instances where she was plagued or frightened by gunshots coming from a distance. She decided to install burglar bars on her home. She was ambivalent at first to take thesemeasures

because she came from a time where families in Jamaica felt comfortable leaving their front doors and windows open.

Granny would joke and say, "It is getting increasingly difficult for me to run and wind up the aluminum windows, when I hear the gunshots firing from afar. We all know that bullets don't have eyes and they land in any direction."

After she took the proactive way of protecting herself by grilling the entire house from top to bottom, it became an interesting time whenever paying her a visit. Granny Gheeta had to go around with a bunch of keys. It became an art for her to decipher which keys were for what area. It would take her approximately 15-20 minutes to allow a vistor to gain access. Family members who went to visit often joked, she had created her own private Fort Knox.

I would often comment,"Well

Granny, if someone was chasing me, by the time you open the door, it would be all over."

She would smile serenely and comment, "No, they have better sense than that."

Granny Gheeta did not care about anyone's funny remarks she was determined to take a bite out of crime. Granny would always tell me, "I wear crepe soles so that I can get around faster than the criminals, but you and I both know those vermits have esp when it comes to hooliganism."

Although Granny had taken the initiative to protect her home and family against wrong doings in the neighborhood. She was determined not to let the criminals deter her from living a happy and healthy lifestyle. She decided to enlist the help of other retired folks to join theNeighborhood Watch

. They began patrolling the neighborhood hoping to talk sense into the young criminals in training.

Granny and her cohorts were often seen counselingjuvenile delinquents

who were desperately making a living by selling drugs. The fear factor never entered their minds. While gunshots would fire, sirens would be wailing,Granny Gheeta

and her friends would continue their advicing, giving the young men and women suggestions to join the military.
Her

answer for everything was discipline.

She felt,

if a person had structure and discipline there was nothing that he/she could not accomplish. Granny would say, "Instead of shooting up innocent people and peddling contraband, whydon't

you children join the army and do some real good?"

Granny Gheetathought

that if they were going to shoot a gun and hurt innocent people, then they should be properly trained. Then, their energies would beappropriately

channeled into defending their country. Sheknew

that the Army provided them with a Life Plan and Strategy. It was an opportunity to go from nowhere to somewhere in life. She would try to convince the thugs that being a hoodlum had limited possibilities.

Her endeavors had a way of turning the whole situation around, she eventually had the young vagabonds looking out for her and the other elderly citizens in the neighborhood. In return, she would supply them with books to read and sweet treats. Eventually, she became know as the "Crime Fighting Granny".

It was Granny's opinion that when people defiled and robbed their own neighborhoods, they minimized the value of their communities and properties, thus making it more difficult to enlist the help of outsiders to increase prosperity.

On a sultry summer evening, an enterprising criminal decided to test Granny Gheeta's will. Apparently he had broken into the house next door and was trying to make a daring escape by cutting through her backyard. Unfortunately for him, he decided to trample on her azaela bushes. Granny just happened to be watering her flowers in the front of the yard when she caught a quick glimpse of the criminal trying to make a get-away. Granny Gheeta took off her Clark Sandals and through it at the criminal hitting him on his head, stopping him in his tracks instantly. While the police sirens wailed in her directon, Granny Gheeta turned on her hose at full power and doused the tresspasser with water until he fell into the moat that separated the next house.

When the police arrived, they found the young criminal shriveled up in a corner too afraid to confront Granny Gheeta, fearful that she would "sick" her German Shepherd dogs on him.The Police

were able to cart the criminal away, and after that fatefilled day, thugs never dared to step foot into Granny Gheeta's neighborhood again.

After the incident, I asked Granny Gheeta, "Whatpossessed

you to endanger yourself like that?"

She calmly responded, "Ghost know who to frighten, If you givethose

hooligans a yard, they will take a mile!"

In other words, if citizens don't say NO to crime, eventually the crime lords will take over communities and people will become prisoners in their own lives.

Granny wasn't able to contain crime throughout Jamaica,

however she was able to create her "kind of wonderful" in a neighborhood she had proudly raised her family.

Tags: Granny and I talk about New Beginnings

Granny and I: The Apparitions of Granny Gheeta

Margaret Bailey — Mon, 03 May 2010 08:45:01 UT

My Granny Gheeta and I have been connected through the universe, visions and dreams for as long as I can remember.

When I was five years old and felt myself thrown into the midst of emotional trauma, she would appear to me in visions directing me how to make myself feel better by connecting with the hobbies and pastimes that brought me joy.

Therefore, at an early age, I learned how to be my own best friend. As time passed, I developed an imaginary friend which offered me a world of escapism and fantasy. For a five year old, who felt lonesome and displaced, the creative games I played with myself was my own piece of Heaven.

The older I became, Granny Gheeta was the voice of warning in reference to deceptive friends and foes.

I recall an incident when I was approximately in my early twenties and had been dating a fellow from Canada. I sensed that Granny Gheeta was not too keen on the association, because everytime that I was to go on a date with the chap, it was a lesson in futility. Trying to get dressed, sometimes, felt as if I was experiencing episodes out of "Bewitched".

The outfits that I would select, would mysteriously get a stain, the earrings I picked out, would somehow get misplaced, or my nylons would rip and there would be a time warp. At first, I attributed these moments to dating jitters. But, after many years of becoming more acquainted with Granny Gheeta on a spiritual plane, I realized it was her mischievous way of protecting me.

Sometimes we become so enamored with the thought of "Someone" that we fail to see the negative traits they harbor. In my situation, I thought I had found a jewel of a person, however, in the spiritual world he was a devil in disguise, and Granny Gheeta knew it.

This particular person would profess their unwavering loyalty to me, telling me tales what he thought I wanted to hear, instead of being honest and declaring what he could realistically bring to the relationship.

I would toss and turn many nights because of the mixed signals I received from this individual. After many haunted evenings Granny Gheeta appeared in a vision filled with the colors of the rainbow. She told me to buy a plant, and whisper the person's name to the plant, if the plant lasted, the person was sincere. If the plant died, it meant that they were being deceptive.

Therefore, I went to the nearest nursery and bought a nice plant. I did exactly as she told me and the plant died. At that point I was in denial, I did everything possible to resuscitate the plant, however, the facts were staring right back at me.

Nevertheless, I forged ahead into the relationship, hoping that it would eventually blossom into something more. As years passed, I realized that this person was like Peter Pan, a person who just wanted to have good times, fun and frolic without serious commitment.

The most dangerous trait about a person with this trait is that they have moments of wanting to be seriously committed, and just when they think you have fallen for the bait. He/She does a 360 on you.

Many people feel the effects of the Peter-Pan Syndrome, yet they continue to wallow in the stagnancy of a relationship. It was during this time that I had a breakthrough, Granny Gheeta appeared in a magnificent vision telling me to pay a surprise visit on the object of my desire. This was completely out of character for me, because I was a good girl, and good girls do as they are told. They don't pay surprise visits to their "boyfriends".

So, at the bidding of Granny Gheeta I lived dangerously. I got dressed to the nines and drove to his house. I didn't get a chance to get out of the car, because as I was about to, I saw him and my cousin holding hands and kissing.

It was the strangest feeling I ever experienced, because I had spoken to him hours earlier and he never acted strange or insinuated that he was having a visitor.

In this situation I was the one who was thoroughly surprised. At first, I was angry with Granny Gheeta for sending me there, but after many months I realized it wasn't so much about the relationship. It was about the deception of others who surrounded me. The people I trusted the most, or the people who I thought had my best interest at heart.

It was then I realized, that Granny Gheeta was teaching me that you cannot trust anyone.

A wise person once said, "To distrust everyone, is to trust everyone equally."

Although it seemed as if my broken heart would never mend, it eventually did. It left me wiser and more discerning of the people I associate with or divulge my innermost feelings to. If it weren't for my Granny Gheeta, the world would still be laughing at me, and I would still be wondering if I had spinach in my teeth.

Although these instances in my life may seem insignificant, I always felt that Granny Gheeta knew just when I really needed her. Her timing was always impeccable.

Sometimes we may have people in our lives everyday who seem to know us, yet there is no connection. Then other people touch our lives for a short while and they seem to be more in tuned with us and our circumstances and it feels surreal. My Granny Gheeta and I have experienced surreal, mystic connections my entire life.
Most recently, as I was about to toss books regarding Psychic Connections, Astrology and the Afterlife. Granny Gheeta reminded me that it is part of my Heritage, and all these interests are what makes me unique.

Tags: Granny and I talk about New Beginnings

Granny Gheeta Offers Comfort: Feeling Displaced

Margaret Bailey — Mon, 05 Apr 2010 09:00:02 UT

Blame it on DNA, however there is a lot to be said about children who are bi-racial or possess two or more heritages. In my life, the most prominent gene that seems to have its gravitational pull, is being Indian.

The art of being Indian prompts me to seek my higher self and to be true to my standards and beliefs. Sometimes this is not always easy for me because it often

leaves me with feelings of being displaced or feeling "different".

Although Granny Gheeta was not always around during my formative years, as an adult I feel her presence more prominantly than ever. Always offering comfort to me in my moments of distress and feelings of not fitting in.

There are times in life when even the most rational of persons feel like the whole world is against them, it is in these times that my Granny Gheeta speaks to me through dreams and other people. She reminds me that Indians are warriors and victors by nature, therefore I should never succumb to humiliation or the harsh judgements of others. She reminds me that their opinion of me have no bearing on how I should feel about myself and the achievments I can accomplish.

We all experience days when folks are caustic and nasty to us for no aparent reason and during our most weakest moments, those situations leave us with feelings of inadequacy or discontent. It is during these times that Granny Gheeta's voice of wisdom keep chanting in my mind, "Don't let anyone rain on your parade!!"

Every step of the way she encourages me to hold my head high and to keep myself looking like the pretty Indian Rose she remembers me to be. Always fresh and never wilted, because someone else's expectation of me is thwarted. Granny Gheeta would emphasize, "People love a crowd pleaser, but the minute you stand up for something meaningfull or different, they will despise you like a dose of poison."

Granny's insight into life are usually so appropriate, because it is true that when one chooses to take a path less traveled, the individual usually experiences oppositions and daunting remarks from the "Penny Section". People will say they admire Pioneers, yet they loathe and envy their courage to be Trail Blazers.

Everything they do and say is subject to ridicule, only because the Naysayers lack the innovation to take a path less ordinary than everyone else.

Being Indian makes me question the motives of people continually, never settling for less than I am accustomed to, by demanding people to deal with my on my level and never stooping to theirs, and constantly aspiring to greater heights. It makes me challenge view points and certain dogmas that have been pre-set. It is during these times that I often feel alienated and displaced, but Granny Gheeta is usually in the background cheering me on and putting a smile on my face by commenting, "Well,that was a battle and I know you're exhausted, how about a nice plate of curry?"

It is during the process of preparing the meal that I find comfort and solace in her words of inspiration. Granny Gheeta would remind me, that an Indian woman is subservient in certain matters, when the need arises. However, she is also strong, opinionated and never backs down regarding her beliefs. The warrior in her, knows when to fight and run away, so that she can fight more ferociously on another day.

I must admit, there are times when my spirit waxes and wanes, yet, the ever faithful Granny Gheeta continues to motivate me by saying, "You are not being Indian now, you're acting too soft....Arise and stand up to your critics!"

It is then, that I find the last morsel of energy to conquer my enemies and elude the Naysers, regaining my confident stance in the world.

Tags: Granny and I talk about New Beginnings

Granny & I : "Something Borrowed"

Margaret Bailey — Mon, 08 Mar 2010 09:00:01 UT

Every woman dreams of one day wearing the much coveted, flowing white dress. the dress itself is often the main reason why so many ladies opt for a fancy wedding. They want to be the center of attention , if only for a day. Truthfully, the ceremony should be designed to accommodate the dress. The dress sets the theme and tone of the wedding.

My Granny felt great pride in her life knowing that she had an Aunt who was a wedding dress maker. So when my cousin Sherleen announced she was getting married. Granny rose to the occasion and enlisted Aunt Franny to make the most elegant and beautiful dress that would bring many to their knees with envy.

Granny did not want my cousin Sherleen to experience the agony and stress of searching for the perfect wedding dress. Sherleen was always a very "neat and fine" individual, someone who sought perfection in every little task.

Granny and Aunt Franny searched for days for imported lace from Spain and organza from France. Finally, they found a lady named Naomi Rathshuller who had a dress shop on a secluded avenue downtown. Naomi Rathshuller was a woman who was about 4 ft. tall, but she knew about fabrics, decorations and accessories. Naomi , Granny and Auntie Franny took to each other like fish in water. Naomi provided Aunt Franny with the materials to make the wedding dress, while Granny looked for days up and down King Street to find the perfect headpiece, and sequins be sewn on the dress.

Eventually she embarked on a "Curiosity Shoppe" that carried estate jewelry. In this shop she found the most exquisite Austrian sequins. Granny instantly fell in love with the sequins and decided that Sherleen's dress would not be complete without the sequins. As luck would have it Granny also found the headpiece in the Curiosity Shoppe, apparently it was a tiara belonging to Anastasia, the lost Russian Princess.

Granny did not hesitate for a moment to purchase the headpiece for Sherleen, it was a perfect complement to her train that would be made of imported Spanish lace. A tiara for one of the many Princeses in her life.

The details of Sherleen's gown were decided and the dress was on its way to being made. Granny then turned her attentions to the theme of the wedding. She wanted it to be old, fashioned romance. Granny had the gardner working overtime to create the most ideal landscape, of movie star roses, lillies and violets. Granny instructed the gardner to create a tressle filled with baby's breath and forget-me-nots. She placed the menu order with the caterers and personally selected the music for the wedding. Harps were scheduled to serenade Sherleen and her intended as they sauntered down the aisle. It was going to be as if Angels were entering the gates of Heaven.

Granny was ready to "put on the ritz" for this wedding, no expense was going to be spared. Her first grand-daughter was getting married and it had to be a splash.

The gown was completed by Aunt Franny in record time. Sherleen had only given Granny and Aunt Franny four weeks to put everything together. She was marrying Charles because he was being shipped overseas by the Navy.

As usual, Granny surprised everyone by being up to speed with all the details. Between Granny and Aunt Franny, the dress was made, the decor and ambience had been set and the food was ordered. The wedding was going to take place in Granny's backyard under a huge, white, tent.

Sherleen tried on her gown days before the wedding and was speechless, regarding the endeavors of Granny and Company. The gown had surpassed her expectations.

Although she thought Granny and Aunt Franny were too "old biddies" that were not privy to the latest fashions. They astounded her with their fashion sense and attention to every detail.

The affair was set to be elegant, however, Granny kept commenting that only one item would make the affair perfect. A chandelier, made of Austrian crystals. Granny looked all over to find a chandelier fitting her imagined description. But much to her chagrin, the chandeliers she found were lacking in "brilliance". Therefore Granny decided to rent a magnificent chandelier from a local Lightolier.

The stage was set, Sherleen had something new, her dress, something blue, was a hankerchief from Granny and her something borrowed was the chandelier.

On the wedding day, everyone waited in pomp and circumstance at the church. Oddly enough, the Bride arrived before the groom, everyone was startled. Granny made a phone call to Aunt Franny's house to find out where the groom was. Aunt Franny who had been helping him with his boutanierre commented that the groom was having "cold feet".

Granny stormed out of the church as if she had heard news, mumbling, "Oh no...! After, I have made this beautiful wedding and Franny make this wonderful dress, he decides to get cold feet. Driver! Take me to Ms. Franny's house."

The driver drove Granny to Aunt franny's house like his life depended on it. Granny scolded Charles by telling him to "straighten up and fly righ"t, then she quoted bible verses. After a few minutes with Granny, Charles was back on track, set to marry Sherleen.

Most of the guests had become impatient and bothered. They were parading up and down the church aisles. A change of plan had occurred, Granny was set to escort the groom down the aisle, just so that he would not lose his nerve.

Sherleen was overjoyed that he showed up, ecstatic that he was able to see her in the very, fabulous gown that her Grandmother and Great Aunt had created. The wedding march had began, the prayers were said. Then the ring bearer, a 3 year old boy decided to run off with the rings. This time, Sherleen herself, ran after the little boy in tears, saying. "I have come too far for you to ruin this day for me....Come here sweetheart bring me the rings."

After much negotiations and promising him several pieces of wedding cake. The little rascal gave her the rings. they were pronounced husband and wife and everyone released a sigh of relief. Although Sherleen had the perfect dress, the days and moments leading up to the wedding weren't so worry-free.

All the guests arrived at Granny's house and set out for the tent in the backyard. Music was playing, hors'douvres' were being served, and then Mr. & Mrs. Charles Pouissant entered the festivities beginning their first dance as husband and wife.

Suddenly, there was a big crash, and people began running for their lives. I wondered what was happening. As I began investigating the matter, I found out that the chandelier had somehow become loose and fell on a guest. The entire tent caved in as a result of the commotion.

Sherleen and her husband managed to escape the melee', but a few guests had been shaken up by the excitement.

Sherleen was upset that her wedding day had been messed up by incompetent electricians and technicians, and my cousin who always seems to miss out on everything, runs in screaming, "I heard gun shots...what happened?"

Granny said, "Calm down and stop spreading propaganda, the only thing that happened was that the chandelier fell down, and the tent collapsed.."

My little cousin Gino commented, "Oh, I thawt somebody did dead...."

Everyone exploded in laughter at the little innocent's reply and continued to go indoors for the cutting of the wedding cake and to enjoy the music.

As most Jamaicans know, nothing or no one rains on our parades. So everyone came together in unison to preserve the rest of the evening.

Granny performed like a champion in the middle of this crisis, she whisked everyone to safety and luckily no one was seriously hurt.

At the end of the evening Granny's remarks were, "You see Magsie that's why I always say, If you go a borrowing, you go a sorrowing. The next time I am buying a nice chandelier for special occasions and securing it myself, with the help of God, of course. Anyhow, all's well that ends well."

I replied, "That's true Granny, but you have to admit, for that split second when people were running like bulls out of a pen......There was a moment of laughter."

Granny affirmed, "Not when you running for your life my child....Praise God no one got hurt.....That's a blessing."

Tags: Granny and I talk about New Beginnings

Granny & I : "Stop Chasing the World!"

Margaret Bailey — Mon, 08 Feb 2010 09:00:01 UT

Most people say that youth is wasted on the young, primarily because they are full of energy and zest. Young adults and teenagers tend to waste all their positive energies on people and things that turn out not to be worth their while.

There are only two drawbacks to being young, the lack of discernment and wisdom.

When a person is young, they are free to make the wrong choices, dabble in the wrong activities, until someone, usually a parent, says, "Enough is enough! Let's put an end to the foolishness."

In youth, many Teenagers may drink themselves to oblivion or take drugs until their bodies have experienced enough, or until they simply die.

Some may party beyond "1999", and become the Golden Aged Disco Diva, wearing the spandex pants on the dance floor, long after the party has ended and the strobe lights have been dimmed. Others may end up being the man who is left staring at the disco ball wondering what happened....., while the music continues to play in his mind.

Jamaican parents are notorious for holding very tight reigns on their children. They have to know who they are consorting with, where they are going and who else is going to be there.

I don't believe there is a Jamaican parent in existence who wants to go around gushing to everyone, that their daughter or son is a Nomad or Dance Hall expert.

It is not uncommon for a Jamaican Mother or Father to put the "kabosh" on your good times by calling ahead to your destination or stomping grounds. Their forte' is alerting the troops, informing them that you are on your way to "dilly-dally" or make a blithering idiot out of yourself.

The "hired guns" usually stay close by, but not too close that anyone might suspect. However, after many years of being cloistered by Jamaican parents one eventually gets the drift.

In the Caribbean Community, word travels like wild fire, therefore it is prudent to always be on your "P's" and "Q's" because you never know who is watching and they may take a negative report back to you family.

My Granny and I never usually argued, but when we did, it was about the "fun principle".

When you are a Teenager and the social scene becomes your world, you tend to be dramatic if you don't attend every social affair or get asked out.

While the hormones are raging and life is passing you by, sometimes the reasoning of an older person can irk your nerves.

"Granny would always say, why you want to go out and party? Too much party is not good you know."

Then, I would comment, "Oh Granny, I never do much....Just this once would be great!"

Granny would shake her head, "Yes, that's what the Devil probably said to Jesus..."

Teenagers always feel it is the end of the world if they don't participate in every event that is noteworthy.
The truth is, as you get older you realize all the things that you wanted and sought.....was pure hype.

My Granny's words of wisdom, "Stop chasing the world, let the world come to you", still resonates in my mind several decades later.

The words become extremely poignant when I have attended a party that would be coveted by most people, and at the end of the night, I would ask myself, "Is this all there is....?"

It reminds me how silly I was as a Teenager to feel that life was passing me by, while everyone else was having a good time.

For the few moments that you have a couple of laughs, drink a little and dance a lot. At the end of the night, I am sure, if most people thought honestly, they would ask themselves the same question.

"What is it all about Alfie?"

I remember there were times in my teenaged life that I felt like a Martian being excluded from social occasions. I often felt, I was the image of a neon, green thumb sticking out amongst everyone else.

Granny would try to comfort me with her old Jamaican sayings, such as, "Don't think you can meet someone on the dance floor and expect it to last. The same way they dance into your life is the same way they will waltz out quickly."

My response was always, "Granny, our times are different...It's not like in your ancient times."

Now, I realize that my Granny was wiser than any Soothsayer. The definition of "fun" is an illusion that people use to lure you away from your path.

Life is meant to be serious and contemplative, because when you concentrate on the "fun principle" or rush into anything too fast, it always dies a natural death, quickly.

Granny's comments on Teenager's dalliances would be, "The fire will fizzle as quickly as it was kindled."

She often reminded her grandchildren to look before they leaped, because although people, places and events may seem fine and dandy. Most times, there is more to the situation than meets the eye.

A man or woman don't usually show you their negative sides when you are embarking on a new relationship. It is only after they have you in the midst of the ocean, before they start revealing the shady aspects of their character.

I have never met anyone who exuded directness by saying, "Hi, my name is so and so, and I am bi-polar, or a hypocrite....or a cheater."

Human nature teaches us to hide the true aspects of ourselves, because we think that if people really knew our true personnas they would run for cover. But time and age teaches that there is unconditional love.

True friends and family will embrace and respect you for being yourself, despite your altered egos.

The funny thing is, as I look back on my teenage years, I realize that I was always my crazy, rambunctious self. Granny really did not have to worry because I was ahead of my time.

I was outrageous then, and I am outrageous now. The difference is, Granny's words have taught me to be comfortable with my forthrightness.

It is a tough road, because people may not like you, and because of that, you will sit out many dances. But the beautiful part about the world chasing you is that, when you own up to who you really are and what you stand for, folks will gravitate naturally, towards you. It is the law of attraction.

Therefore, to all those people who feel like they have to keep up with the "in" crowd an be a "follow-fashion", my words of wisdom are..."Stop play poppy-show and be yourself, the life you seek is waiting to unfold right in front of you."

I'm sure if Granny was here, alive and well, she would say, "Amen! I second that!"

Tags: Granny and I talk about New Beginnings

Granny and I talk about New Beginnings

Margaret Bailey — Fri, 01 Jan 2010 05:40:05 UT

As the New Year approaches many people are giving thoughts to making their lives better and deleting people and patterns that no longer serve their lives in a positive manner. Although much has been said about New Beginnings, I have found that Jamaicans are extremely committed to relinquishing their old lifestyles in order to make way for new and improved, transformed lives.

Granny and I often discussed these matters because she was a prime example of someone whose life had experienced many changes while inhabiting the Earth.

In one single life, my Granny went from a privileged young woman, to a Housewife with children and tremendous responsibilities. As her life progressed, she made religious changes , which completely altered her thoughts and beliefs. With each change, Granny overhauled every aspect of her life, from the foods she ate to the clothes she wore.

I remember talking to Granny on the eve of New Year's in 1988 regarding "New Beginnings".

I used to ask Granny if she believed that people could forget about lives that were unhappy, complicated and grief stricken. Her answer to my philosophical question was,an emphatic "Yes!"

Her response made me even more curious, the fact that she was so sure that people can begin anew after horrible circumstances or "messed up" lives made me want to delve further into the subject.

Granny began quoting the bible to me, "With God, all things can be new again. So, no matter what a person experiences in life, God can turn around any situation and give that person a new start."

I decided to challenge her, I said, "Granny, what if someone was an Axe Murderer, would God give that individual a New Beginning?"

She commented, "Well, that's a far stretch, but God can still forgive that person and create a purpose-filled life for them. Granny continued, starting a new life seems so easy, but one has to have determination and strength. It is very difficult for most people to turn their backs on people, places and things that do not serve them positively. Most folks tend to "backslide to their old way of living."

I pondered on the remark my Granny had made and realized that there was great truth to what she had said.

So many times in peoples' lives when they end a marriage or relationship, they have a hard time "letting go" completely. Each person tends to go back and forth until the retionship fizzles or until they end up diabolic enemies.

When individuals become involved with "bad company" or associates, it is never an easy task to disassociate immediately, it often takes time and a lot of determination to leave the affiliations in the past.

Over the many years I lived in Jamaica, I became privy to practices of Jamaicans making a new start.

For instance, when a marriage dissolved, the home was usually cleansed of the departing individuals aura and persona. The home was redecorated and the furniture was changed. Sometimes, it would seem as if the person never existed at all.

Any reminders of the life that was lived as a result of that union was disposed of, (i.e.)clothing, jewelry, pictures, etc.

Even if the relationship ended amicably, most old-fashioned Jamaicans felt it was best to start afresh, a new life without any complications haunting from the past.

This belief was also quite prominent when a person passed away. Once the mourning period was over, the house was relieved of their belongings. In a strange way, this ritual helped the grieving process, the less reminders that were around, the easier it was to cope with the loss. It made life without the person progress more naturally, as opposed to dwelling on the past by daily reminders.

Granny always told me, clothing, jewelry and objects all have a history and their own energy. Granny would say, "Ms. Mags, sometimes it takes a year or two to remove the aura of past associations."

Therefore, as a young woman growing up, whenever a relationship ended my Grandmother always encouraged me to put new life and energy into my wardrobe.

She would always say, "Magsie, you don't want the doom and gloom of the past following you around. You want to dilute the negativity that person brought into your life."

So as the New Year of 2010 approaches and most people are making their New Years' Resolutions, it is wise to remember, that with God all things are possible.

My Grandmother always reminded me that God cleanses peoples' sins and makes them as white as the driven snow. You just have to wash them out of your mind and your life.

Therefore, there is always hope and comfort knowing that through prayers our lives can be renewed no matter what stains have been left behind by the past.

Happy New Year!

Tags: Granny and I talk about New Beginnings

Granny & I : The Half and Half Holidays!

Margaret Bailey — Tue, 01 Dec 2009 04:37:37 UT

Holidays are a time to embrace family and friends, while enjoying the best of the festivities. In Jamaica Christmas time is revered as one of the most sacred Holidays on the calendar.

One month before Christmas, most Jamaican cooks begin soaking fruits like raisins and plums for the Christmas cakes and pastries they will make before the Holiday Season commences.

Life before, during and after the Holidays are generally hectic with Street Dances, Parties and festive dinners.
My life as a child was particularly frenetic because I celebrated Christmas, Jamukah (Jamaican Hanukah) with Granny B and Festival of Lights with Granny Gheeta.

Granny B never celebrated Christmas, so when the Holidays came around her grandchildren were sure to get their eight presents for the Season.

The Sabbath before the Holiday was celebrated with a spectacular dinner. During these gatherings, Granny B would use the time to reinforce the principles of her religious lifestyle.

She reminded us to eat healthily, sometimes affirming that it was better to eat meatkind that did not contain pork or pork derivitives.

Granny would say, " I don't eat any pork or scavengers of the sea, they're unclean and the bible tells us to stay away from these foods."

Therefore one would never find pork, fish or certain dairy products at Granny B's house.

I would often question Granny by saying, "Granny, suppose you ate a piece of ham, what happens?"

She would answer "Well, I guess you'll have to fast to cleanse your body from the impurities".

At the time I didn't understand what "Fasting" meant so I thought Granny was using Jamaican lingo that meant inquisitive. Sometime people would say, "Stop fasing in people business".

So I would continue questioning, "How fasing in people business cleanses your impurities?"

Granny would say, "No Ms. Mags. Fasting is when you don't eat for a few days....A religious fast cleanses your body."

Spending the Holidays with Granny B was usually filled with singing of religious songs and reading scriptures. When Granny gave the grandchildren gifts to commemorate the season, we were always guaranteed to receive a religious item.

After a nice quiet celebration with Granny B and her affirmations of religious beliefs, it was off to Granny Gheeta's for a more festive celebration.

When Granny Gheeta celebrated Festival of Lights, the entire house was covered with hundreds of colorful christmas lights. I always felt like a was visiting a metropolis in the middle of the suburbs.

Neighbors would joke and say that it was hard to miss Granny Gheeta's house during the Holidays because it was the only house that looked like a space ship preparing to take off.

There were usually children running around everywhere, while Granny Gheeta spent her time rustling up sweet treats in the kitchen.

I was usually inquisitive to find out what she was making, so I would venture into the kitchen asking,
"Granny Gheeta what are you making?"

She would smile and say, "It's a surprise for you chilren."

I became more curious by the minute, "A surprise? Can I help....?"

Granny Gheeta was usually a bit reluctant to say yes, because when I got into the kitchen, it usually meant every pot would end up being used.

I got a thrill out of making sure the pots were durable, this usually meant they were either tossed around, dropped or they ended up with me making mud pies.
This endeavor was usually my contribution of trying to duplicate a Jamaican Black Cake.

Granny Gheeta would often scold, "Magli you making a mess, but Granny is not going to get upset, it is the Holidays and everything has to be cheery, cheery!"

Then she would say, "Come here".

She would give me a piece of dough to knead with a rolling-pin....I was never sure what her point was, but the task kept me busy.

After Granny was done in the kitchen, there was a festive array of delectable sweets and confections.
It was the only time of year that we were allowed to indulge in sweets in large amounts without any intercession of adults.

I think that this was my parents least favorite time of year because when I went home I was usually more hyperactive and talkative than usual.

Not to mention the fact that Granny Gheeta would give me lessons on wrapping a sari and every piece of bed linen became my experiment for my Indian garb.

I guess one could say after visiting with Granny Gheeta for the Holidays, it made life at home splendidly chaotic.

This also meant that I kept the whole house awake until the wee hours in the morning.

I would call Granny Gheeta the next day asking her why she always made so many sweets at Christmas time and she would say, "Sweets make you have a sweet holiday, sweet life, and a sweet New Year."

I would continue with my inquisition, "Granny Gheeta, you mean to tell me that sweet things make everything nice and sweet?"

"Sometimes sweetheart. Remember your nursery rhyme that says," Little girls are made of sugar and spice and everything nice". Granny want to make sure the grandgirls are nice and sweet and attract good things."

I would laugh and tell her, "Granny Gheeta, you are funny."

She would quietly say, "Ta-ta, (goodbye) when you grow up, you will see what Granny Gheeta means."
Then she would hang up the phone.

I would always remember a nursery song she would sing to me when I was little, "Clap hand, clap hand till Momma come home, Momma bring sweetie for baby alone.......etc."

Then it dawned on me, that Granny Gheeta always had an obsession for all her Grandgirls to have "La Dolce Vita".

She began brainwashing me when I was a baby.

Although I may have forgotten the little things that my grandmothers did to make the holidays special, as an adult I realize the important part they play in my life, when I forget to commemorate these fond memories.

All these little rituals do help to make my life sweeter and a lot more interesting. So, thank you Granny B and Granny Gheeta for adding flavor to my life.

Tags: Granny & I discuss a Taboo Subject: Obeah in Jamaica

Granny and I Talk about the “D” word.

Margaret Bailey — Sun, 01 Nov 2009 04:29:38 UT

Jamaicans tend to abbreviate many topics that are of a precarious nature, by only mentioning the first letter of the word they are trying to discuss. As a child there were two words that were always used very carefully and that was the “C” word, which was short for Cancer and the “D” word which was an abbreviation for Depression.

My Granny did not like that word being used around her at all. She felt that if one had a good relationship with Jesus, there was no need to feel forlorn or hopeless in this world. Granny was sure that the Messiah could satisfy all our wants, needs and desires.
My Grandmother always reminded her grandchildren that God was an ever present help in the midst of conflict and adversity.

As a toddler all of Granny’s teachings regarding depression seemed fine and dandy, primarily because in a toddler’s life there really isn’t much to gripe about. However, as I became a teenager and life became more complicated, especially migrating to a new country, the “D” word became more familiar every day.

Granny and I would converse about why it was so easy for American youth to become depressed and downtrodden. She would comment, “How can any teenager remain optimistic in all this dreary weather? It is a known fact that sunshine soothes the spirit. Too much snow is not good, after all, we are not Eskimos.”

She would ramble on, “Everyday when I watch the Talk Shows, you hear about the depression of the younger generation. When we were coming up in Jamaica if we told our parents we were depressed, you know what they would say? Go and read a book to distract your mind. Nowadays, the children are overdosing on pills, running in front of trains, anything to end their lives prematurely.”

Granny would get so upset, she would sit in her reclining chair fiddling with her handkerchief with frustration, then continue….”If only they knew that they were leaving one personal hell for another.”

Granny felt that when a soul died in a tormented condition that it remained in that condition until it found eternal peace.

Today, our World is in such turmoil people are losing their homes by the minute, lives are being destroyed by the devastation of the economy and people are taking the effects to heart. Some are opting to take the express route to the Pearly Gates, not because they are scared, but because they are brave and have lost all sense of reality.

Recently, I lost a family member to the “D” word and had a mystical experience of the third kind. It included my Granny and her dear sister Dorie, whose grandchild opted to take his life. Both were grief stricken over the whole experience, but each understood the troubling events of our times that can lead to such drastic measures.
For days each tried to make sense of the occurrence, but a resolution could not be found.
It was just a terrible tragedy attributed to the sign of our times. An event that could strike any family due to our Economy’s decline.

When Depression leads a person to take their own life, that person has come to the realization that they have run out of options. Life has left them in an unfair predicament, and the only way to maintain their dignity, is to bow out gracefully, on their terms.

My Granny and her sister understand the devastation and uncomfortability my cousin felt. His perceived circumstances offered no other choices. All roads lead to one decision….an untimely death.

This experience has left my entire being in a somber mood because the world has lost a truly good human being. However, the words of my Grandmother have kept me going, because I hear her saying, “Keep a smile on your face and hold your head high.”

Although I know the older generation mean well with their pep talks and old fashioned principles, sometimes real issues require serious help. Some problems don’t go away because we want them to.

Society has got to stop crucifying people who reach out and say, “Hey! I need professional help.”

Maybe there would be more survivors telling their tales today.

In Memory of R.S.

Tags: Granny & I discuss a Taboo Subject: Obeah in Jamaica

Granny & I Story: Surviving The Big Chill

Margaret Bailey — Thu, 01 Oct 2009 03:06:04 UT

My Grandmother died many years ago, however, her and I still share intimate conversations with each other. Even beyond the grave my Grandmother somehow manages to soothe my ruffled spirits when the “world” has aggravated and distressed me.

Granny and I often spoke about other peoples’ mannerisms, such as the way they are able to be obnoxious and rude. Yet, when given a healthy dose of their own treatment, they cannot handle it. Some may wage a crucifixion campaign against you for lashing out at them. However, they often fail to see or acknowledge the error of their ways or rude behavior patterns.

As a young child growing up, my grandmother always told me that some of my endearing qualities were the ability to be an independent thinker and the fact that my idealism usually prompted me to stand up for good morals, never allowing anyone to have the “upper hand” over me.

Granny also knew that since I was a child of mixed heritage that the challenges that I would have to overcome on this planet, would be great and sometimes overwhelming.

During Granny’s time on earth, she saw folks act disrespectfully towards me, friends mistreat and betray me. However, she always had encouraging words to help me endure the “Big Chill” that others imposed.

Granny would always prompt, “People will act and treat you “funny” when you have a mind of your own. Most people are followers and people pleasers, so when there is someone who goes against the grain. It upsets their nerves and paradigms because they cannot control you. A person who is different and stands out from the rest of the crowd is an “eyesore” for others.”

I would look at my Granny intently, almost as if I should be taking notes, because I found sense and truth in what she was saying. Even at an early age Granny’s assessment of people and situations were fascinating to me. She seemed to understand everything so keenly.

I would question her, “Granny what’s an “eyesore”?

She would comment, “An “eyesore” is someone who stands out in any crowd, and because of this quality, people become jealous, envious and quite nasty at times. It is their way of trying to rain on that person’s parade. Do you ever notice how sometimes you could be having a wonderful day, and someone would say something uncalled for or very negative, and just with a bite of their words they leave a stench with you?”

I thought about what Granny had said, and I realized it was true.

I called to memory one day when I was invited to a social affair, I had gotten dressed up in a lovely magenta dress. I received so many raves and compliments, except there was this one girl from my group who became very sulky that I was getting a lot of attention. So, she threw her plate of spaghetti with red sauce all over my dress, which practically ruined it. After that, she was as happy as a lark, there was no more sulking and all was right again in her world.

At first, I was embarrassed then I remembered my Grandmother’s teaching, “Never let anyone have the upper hand over you. So, I held my head high, continued my evening, then made a gracious exit.

When I told Granny the story, she knew instantly that young girl felt threatened by me. She was afraid that I was soaking up too much attention.

I always found the jealousy trait in women intriguing, because, I never went looking for attention, yet people were generous with their compliments.

All these accolades meant nothing to me because I was taught from an early age not to give too much creedence to my own publicity. That was the key to remaining a humble sole.

As an adult I have found out that sometimes you have to toot your own horn, if only to accomplish putting folks in their places.

My Granny would often take me by the hand and say, “You my dear, will create upheavals and bacanal among women, not because of anything you did or said. But just because you exist……..”

To this day, I am not quite sure what my Grandmother meant, but I can certainly attest to the “cold war” that I have experienced at certain intervals of my life.

I am constantly battling the feelings of women feeling threatened because they believe a woman of mixed heritage has only one goal and that is, trying to takeover their world, or create unnecessary competition for them.

The truth is, I really don’t care about their world because I come from a heritage that’s vibrant and colorful and prides itself on being “Out of Many One People”. Despite the fact that I come from a Third World Nation, I thank God that we are a nation of wonderful choices.

I still continue my private conversations with my Grandmother and each day she reminds me to be myself because my forefathers have already paved the way.

Tags: Granny & I discuss a Taboo Subject: Obeah in Jamaica

Granny & I - Daughter-in-Laws and Raising Children

Margaret Bailey — Tue, 01 Sep 2009 02:03:24 UT

A lot has been said about raising children in modern day society, however as far as my Grandmother was concerned, the old-fashioned way, was the right way and the only way to raise a child.
In today’s society where so many children go astray with drugs, alcohol and truancy, it has become more important than ever to resort to old-fashioned values and principles.
Granny felt that being a parent was a full-time job and was never to be taken lightly.
Like most Jamaican parents Granny always emphasized that your child was your concern until the day he/she departed the Earth.
When it came to Granny’s Daughter-in-laws raising her grandchildren, she tried not to get too involved, but when her opinion was asked, she would “go to town” with advice.
I remember a particular evening Granny and I were sitting in her parlor sipping on postum and eating excelsior crackers and guava jelly. Suddenly, there was a knock on Granny’s parlour door. It was the Helper. Granny answered the Helper, and found out it was one of her Daughter-in-law’s with news about one of the grandchildren.
Apparently , my cousin Tyler who was only twelve at the time, was playing Dominoes in the park with “friends” and while he was playing dominoes, the rest of the group were busy throwing water balloons at the passers-by in the park. Tyler was not involved, however, just because he was part of the group, he was considered guilty by association.
One of the victims of the balloon dowsing called a Park Constable, and the boys were put through rigorous questioning. Thank goodness, there was a friend of my Grandfather passing through the park and he got a whiff of what was transpiring.
The news quickly spread, and Tyler’s mother came to Granny to enlist her help with the matter. As everyone may know about Jamaican parents, before they help you, they always subject you to an "everlasting" lecture. My Granny was no different.
She lectured my Aunt Kitty about the finer points of raising boy children.
Granny carried on, “Kitty, you can’t have your boy children running the street, you have to keep them close to you. You can‘t have them running wild like lego-beast.”
Aunt Kitty sighed, “Mama, you’re right, but Tyler was not running the street he was playing Dominoes with friends.”
Granny had an impossible look on her face, “Dominoes? Well why couldn’t he play Dominoes in the house. You can’t have your children hanging out like that. Just the other day I called the house to speak to Sharon, and the others tell me that she was hanging out at the Mall. You either go the Mall with an objective in mind or stay home and keep yourself quiet.”
Aunt kitty was getting irritated by the minute with my Granny because I think she just wanted the current situation solved, but Granny continued.
“None of my children ever hung out, they always went from Point A to Point B and they were always escorted by me or my husband. I don’t understand why Tyler could not play Dominoes in the house with his brothers and sisters. That is why parents have more than one child, to keep the others company. Now he has gotten mixed up with some truants and is only the Lord can help him!!! Who knows what else these boys are involved in?
Granny began rubbing her forehead as if searching for an answer. Then she started, “Come, let’s go down to the Park, I am going to get my husband friend Mr. Pemberton to go with us. He is the Commissioner of Constables, we will get to the bottom of this sordid mess. By the way, which Park were the boys at?”
Aunt Kitty answered, “Coconut Park.”
As Granny put on her fedora and rain cloak she commented, “Lord have mercy! Imagine those boys were throwing water ballons at people from the rides? Don‘t these children know that, what is one man‘s joke is another man‘s death?”
Aunt Kitty somberly answered, “I guess so, I really don’t know all the details.”
I sat in the middle of the unfolding events, growing more anxious by the minute for my poor cousin. He was just hanging out with the wrong people at the wrong time.
I turned to Granny begging her to take me with her.
“Granny, may I go with you….please, please, I promise to be quiet…Oh. Granny, please say yes.”
“Magsie, I don’t think it is a good idea, we may be gone long.” Granny remarked.
“Granny, I give you my scout’s honor that I will sit in the car and I will bring a book to read.”
“Alright, but only if you promise to keep still, Coconut Park is a huge place and I don’t want you to get lost.”
“I understand Granny….No problem.”
We arrived at Coconut Park just before it started to get dark. When Granny and Aunt Kitty inquired about Tyler, no one knew where he was. Granny began raising hell.
“How could you incompetent people lose my grandson? This is an outrage….Mr. Pemberton, please talk to these people for me because his mother and I are besides our self with upsettedness right now.”
Mr. Pemberton questioned them, and they were doing a good job at giving him “the business”. Then, I heard Mr. Pemberton’s voice raise several decibels. That’s what happens when people get a Jamaican man angry. I thought the roof of the office was going to fall off.
Even as a little girl, I could not believe the “run around” and “cockamamie” story they were giving to us. So, I got a little curious and began exploring Coconut Park, several furlongs, off the beaten path, I looked into a window and saw the boys sitting in a room being chastised, by someone who looked like a Corporal.
I ran back to the little hut which they called an office and reported to Granny.
“Granny, I know you told me to be quiet, but I think I found the boys.”
Granny was mad at me, “ Your ears are for listening, I told you not to go wondering, Anyway, where are they, show me?”
I suddenly felt like the Tour Guide of Coconut Park, leading the adults to moments of revelation. Once there, Granny allowed Mr. Pemberton to have his say and then she interjected.
“Let me tell you folks something, this is my grandson and this “almshouse” concocted story is an untruth. My husband and I have a decent family, and it is just an unfortunate situation that he got caught up with these boys. He truly thought they were his friends. Now that he knows they are not, I can assure you that my grandson will never be involved in any awkward situation like this again. Now, if you don’t mind, I am taking my Tyler home, you can speak to Mr. Pemberton about any further information.
Mr. Pemberton answered, “I have known this family for more than 30 years, there is nothing more to discuss.”
Granny was in a hurry to get home before Grandpa got there, because if he found out about these events, we would all be in a “stew”.
Till this day, I don’t think my Grandfather ever found out about Tyler’s excursion in the Park, but no one got away from Granny’s post-lecture.
“None of my grandchildren are hang-outers from this day and beyond, and if you are going anywhere with people and it doesn’t feel right. Don’t be embarrassed to say, I have changed my mind.” Remember some people will always lead you down the garden path, don’t give them any ammunition to “shegg up” your life.”
Granny always felt that all her grandchildren were raised well and exposed to the finest opportunities in life, therefore it was not necessary for them to “run down the world”. If they were wise and played their cards right, Granny was sure the World would come to them.”
I can honestly say, that as I reminisce about these childhood experiences, my Granny had a keen understanding of Life and Physics.
Just put your thoughts in the Universe and Physics will do the rest. The more we chase a subject, the more it eludes us.
Granny Story: Daughter-in-Laws and Raising Children
A lot has been said about raising children in modern day society, however as far as my Grandmother was concerned, the old-fashioned way, was the right way and the only way to raise a child.
In today’s society where so many children go astray with drugs, alcohol and truancy, it has become more important than ever to resort to old-fashioned values and principles.
Granny felt that being a parent was a full-time job and was never to be taken lightly.
Like most Jamaican parents Granny always emphasized that your child was your concern until the day he/she departed the Earth.
When it came to Granny’s Daughter-in-laws raising her grandchildren, she tried not to get too involved, but when her opinion was asked, she would “go to town” with advice.
I remember a particular evening Granny and I were sitting in her parlor sipping on postum and eating excelsior crackers and guava jelly. Suddenly, there was a knock on Granny’s parlour door. Granny answered the Helper, and found out it was one of her Daughter-in-law’s with news about one of the grandchildren.
Apparently , my cousin Tyler was playing Dominoes in the park with “friends” and while he was playing dominoes, the rest of the group were busy throwing water balloons at the passers-by in the park. Tyler was not involved, however, just because he was part of the group, he was considered guilty by association.
One of the victims of the balloon dowsing called a Park Constable, and the boys were put through rigorous questioning. Thank goodness, there was a friend of my Grandfather passing through the park and he got a whiff of what was transpiring.
The news quickly spread and Tyler’s mother came to Granny to enlist her help with the matter. As everyone may know about Jamaican parents, before they help you, they always subject you to an everlasting lecture. My Granny was no different.
She lectured my Aunt Kitty about the finer points of raising boy children.
Granny carried on, “Kitty, you can’t have your boy children running the street, you have to keep them close to you. You can‘t have them running wild like lego-beast.”
Aunt Kitty sighed, “Mama, you’re right, but Tyler was not running the street he was playing Dominoes with friends.”
Granny had an impossible look on her face, “Dominoes? Well why couldn’t he play Dominoes in the house. You can’t have your children hanging out like that. Just the other day I called the house to speak to Sharon, and the others tell me that she was hanging out at the Mall.”
Aunt kitty was getting irritated by the minute with my Granny because I think she just wanted the current situation solved, but Granny continued.
“None of my children ever hung out, they always went from Point A to Point B and they were always escorted by me or my husband. I don’t understand why Tyler could not play Dominoes in the house with his brothers and sisters. That is why parents have more than one child, to keep the others company. Now he has gotten mixed up with some truants and is only the Lord can help him!!! Who knows what else these boys are involved in?
Granny began rubbing her forehead as if searching for an answer. Then she started, “Come, let’s go down to the Park, I am going to get my husband friend Mr. Pemberton to go with us. He is the Commissioner of Constables, we will get to the bottom of this sordid mess. By the way, which Park were the boys at?”
Aunt Kitty answered, “Coconut Park.”
As Granny put on her fedora and rain cloak she commented, “Lord have mercy! Imagine those boys were throwing water ballons at people from the rides? Don‘t these children know that what is one man‘s joke is another man‘s death?”
Aunt Kitty somberly answered, “I guess so, I really don’t know all the details.”
I sat in the middle of the unfolding events, growing more anxious by the minute for my poor cousin. He was just hanging out with the wrong people at the wrong time.
I turned to Granny begging her to take me with her.
“Granny, may I go with you….please, please, I promise to be quiet…Oh. Granny, please say yes.”
“Magsie, I don’t think it is a good idea, we may be gone long.” Granny remarked.
“Granny, I give you my scout’s honor that I will sit in the car and I will bring a book to read.”
“Alright, but only if you promise to keep still, Coconut Park is a huge place and I don’t want you to get lost.”
“I understand Granny….No problem.”
We arrived at Coconut Park just before it started to get dark. When Granny and Aunt Kitty inquired about Tyler, no one knew where he was. Granny began raising hell.
“How could you incompetent people lose my grandson? This is an outrage….Mr. Pemberton, please talk to these people for me because his mother and I besides our self with upsettedness right now.”
Mr. Pemberton questioned them, and they were doing a good job at giving him “the business”. Then, I heard Mr. Pemberton’s voice raise several decibels. That’s what happens when people get a Jamaican man angry. I thought the roof of the office was going to fall off.
Even as a little girl, I could not believe the “run around” and “cockamamie” story they were giving to us. So, I got a little curious and began exploring Coconut Park, several furlongs, off the beaten path, I looked into a window and saw the boys sitting in a room being chastised, by someone who looked like a Corporal.
I ran back to the little hut which they called an office and reported to Granny.
“Granny, I know you told me to be quiet, but I think I found the boys.”
Granny was mad at me, “ Your ears are for listening, I told you not to go wondering, Anyway, where are they, show me?”
I suddenly felt like the Tour Guide of Coconut Park, leading the adults to moments of revelation. Once there, Granny allowed Mr. Pemberton to have his say and then she interjected.
“Let me tell you folks something, this is my grandson and this “almshouse” concocted story is an untruth. My husband and I have a decent family, and it is just an unfortunate situation that he got caught up with these boys. He truly thought they were his friends. Now that he knows they are not, I can assure you that my grandson will never be involved in any awkward situation like this again. Now, if you don’t mind, I am taking my Tyler home, you can speak to Mr. Pemberton about any further information.
Mr. Pemberton answered, “I have known this family for more than 30 years, there is nothing more to discuss.”
Granny was in a hurry to get home before Grandpa got there, because if he found about these events, we would all be in a “stew”.
Till this day, I don’t think my Grandfather ever found out about Tyler’s excursion in the Park, but no one got away from Granny’s post-lecture.
“None of my grandchildren are hang-outers from this day and beyond, and if you are going anywhere with people and it doesn’t feel right. Don’t be embarrassed to say, I have changed my mind.” Remember some people will always lead you down the garden path, don’t give them any ammunition to “shegg up” your life.”
Granny always felt that all her grandchildren were raised well and exposed to the finest opportunities in life, therefore it was not necessary for them to “run down the world”. If they were wise and played their cards right, Granny was sure the World would come to them.”
I can honestly say, that as I reminisce about these childhood experiences, my Granny had a keen understanding of Life and Physics.
Just put your thoughts in the Universe and Physics will do the rest. The more we chase a subject, the more it eludes us.
Granny Story: Daughter-in-Laws and Raising Children
A lot has been said about raising children in modern day society, however as far as my Grandmother was concerned, the old-fashioned way, was the right way and the only way to raise a child.
In today’s society where so many children go astray with drugs, alcohol and truancy, it has become more important than ever to resort to old-fashioned values and principles.
Granny felt that being a parent was a full-time job and was never to be taken lightly.
Like most Jamaican parents Granny always emphasized that your child was your concern until the day he/she departed the Earth.
When it came to Granny’s Daughter-in-laws raising her grandchildren, she tried not to get too involved, but when her opinion was asked, she would “go to town” with advice.
I remember a particular evening Granny and I were sitting in her parlor sipping on postum and eating excelsior crackers and guava jelly. Suddenly, there was a knock on Granny’s parlour door. Granny answered the Helper, and found out it was one of her Daughter-in-law’s with news about one of the grandchildren.
Apparently , my cousin Tyler was playing Dominoes in the park with “friends” and while he was playing dominoes, the rest of the group were busy throwing water balloons at the passers-by in the park. Tyler was not involved, however, just because he was part of the group, he was considered guilty by association.
One of the victims of the balloon dowsing called a Park Constable, and the boys were put through rigorous questioning. Thank goodness, there was a friend of my Grandfather passing through the park and he got a whiff of what was transpiring.
The news quickly spread and Tyler’s mother came to Granny to enlist her help with the matter. As everyone may know about Jamaican parents, before they help you, they always subject you to an everlasting lecture. My Granny was no different.
She lectured my Aunt Kitty about the finer points of raising boy children.
Granny carried on, “Kitty, you can’t have your boy children running the street, you have to keep them close to you. You can‘t have them running wild like lego-beast.”
Aunt Kitty sighed, “Mama, you’re right, but Tyler was not running the street he was playing Dominoes with friends.”
Granny had an impossible look on her face, “Dominoes? Well why couldn’t he play Dominoes in the house. You can’t have your children hanging out like that. Just the other day I called the house to speak to Sharon, and the others tell me that she was hanging out at the Mall.”
Aunt kitty was getting irritated by the minute with my Granny because I think she just wanted the current situation solved, but Granny continued.
“None of my children ever hung out, they always went from Point A to Point B and they were always escorted by me or my husband. I don’t understand why Tyler could not play Dominoes in the house with his brothers and sisters. That is why parents have more than one child, to keep the others company. Now he has gotten mixed up with some truants and is only the Lord can help him!!! Who knows what else these boys are involved in?
Granny began rubbing her forehead as if searching for an answer. Then she started, “Come, let’s go down to the Park, I am going to get my husband friend Mr. Pemberton to go with us. He is the Commissioner of Constables, we will get to the bottom of this sordid mess. By the way, which Park were the boys at?”
Aunt Kitty answered, “Coconut Park.”
As Granny put on her fedora and rain cloak she commented, “Lord have mercy! Imagine those boys were throwing water ballons at people from the rides? Don‘t these children know that what is one man‘s joke is another man‘s death?”
Aunt Kitty somberly answered, “I guess so, I really don’t know all the details.”
I sat in the middle of the unfolding events, growing more anxious by the minute for my poor cousin. He was just hanging out with the wrong people at the wrong time.
I turned to Granny begging her to take me with her.
“Granny, may I go with you….please, please, I promise to be quiet…Oh. Granny, please say yes.”
“Magsie, I don’t think it is a good idea, we may be gone long.” Granny remarked.
“Granny, I give you my scout’s honor that I will sit in the car and I will bring a book to read.”
“Alright, but only if you promise to keep still, Coconut Park is a huge place and I don’t want you to get lost.”
“I understand Granny….No problem.”
We arrived at Coconut Park just before it started to get dark. When Granny and Aunt Kitty inquired about Tyler, no one knew where he was. Granny began raising hell.
“How could you incompetent people lose my grandson? This is an outrage….Mr. Pemberton, please talk to these people for me because his mother and I besides our self with upsettedness right now.”
Mr. Pemberton questioned them, and they were doing a good job at giving him “the business”. Then, I heard Mr. Pemberton’s voice raise several decibels. That’s what happens when people get a Jamaican man angry. I thought the roof of the office was going to fall off.
Even as a little girl, I could not believe the “run around” and “cockamamie” story they were giving to us. So, I got a little curious and began exploring Coconut Park, several furlongs, off the beaten path, I looked into a window and saw the boys sitting in a room being chastised, by someone who looked like a Corporal.
I ran back to the little hut which they called an office and reported to Granny.
“Granny, I know you told me to be quiet, but I think I found the boys.”
Granny was mad at me, “ Your ears are for listening, I told you not to go wondering, Anyway, where are they, show me?”
I suddenly felt like the Tour Guide of Coconut Park, leading the adults to moments of revelation. Once there, Granny allowed Mr. Pemberton to have his say and then she interjected.
“Let me tell you folks something, this is my grandson and this “almshouse” concocted story is an untruth. My husband and I have a decent family, and it is just an unfortunate situation that he got caught up with these boys. He truly thought they were his friends. Now that he knows they are not, I can assure you that my grandson will never be involved in any awkward situation like this again. Now, if you don’t mind, I am taking my Tyler home, you can speak to Mr. Pemberton about any further information.
Mr. Pemberton answered, “I have known this family for more than 30 years, there is nothing more to discuss.”
Granny was in a hurry to get home before Grandpa got there, because if he found about these events, we would all be in a “stew”.
Till this day, I don’t think my Grandfather ever found out about Tyler’s excursion in the Park, but no one got away from Granny’s post-lecture.
“None of my grandchildren are hang-outers from this day and beyond, and if you are going anywhere with people and it doesn’t feel right. Don’t be embarrassed to say, I have changed my mind.” Remember some people will always lead you down the garden path, don’t give them any ammunition to “shegg up” your life.”
Granny always felt that all her grandchildren were raised well and exposed to the finest opportunities in life, therefore it was not necessary for them to “run down the world”. If they were wise and played their cards right, Granny was sure the World would come to them.”
I can honestly say, that as I reminisce about this childhood experience, I realize that my Granny had a keen understanding of Life and Physics.
Basically, all she wanted us to do was, put our thoughts in the Universe and the Law of Gravity and Physics would reward us.

Many warriors of life will attest to the fact that the more we chase a subject, the more it eludes us. If we only have the courage to realize that what we seek has already been given to us by God.

Tags: Granny & I discuss a Taboo Subject: Obeah in Jamaica

The Best Laid Plans…………. A Special Granny Story

Margaret Bailey — Sat, 01 Aug 2009 05:09:59 UT

During the many years that my Grandmother was alive we spoke of many subjects. Because of her interesting views on life I have been able to gain insight on a multitude of topics.

Eventhough my Granny is no longer living on the Earth Plane, there isn’t a day that passes that I don’t find her teachings and stories to be quite comforting.

Although, Granny was a very organized person and methodical person. There was a part of her that was extremely spiritual, and it was this characteristic in her personality that made her very “low key” when it came to grand plans.

When in the middle of great family undertakings or planning, Granny would often carry on her duties with “pursed” lips. If I questioned her too much about what she was doing, she would often times, answer me with one of these remarks, “Is not everything good to eat, good to talk about….”

I never really understood what that phrase meant until I became older.

In Jamaica, much of our heritage is surrounded by folklore and old wives’ tales, therefore it is not unusual to find Jamaicans that are very leery about divulging their business dealings prematurely or family events until they have materialized.

Most people in Jamaica usually feel that “bush have ears”. So, if you talk about all your great plans too much, you never know who might be listening. If they don’t wish you well, the best laid plans could fizzle as quickly as they started.”

So, when Granny always told me, “Not everything good to eat, good to talk”.

She was reminding me that, you have to pick and choose carefully, the personal matters you feel comfortable talking to other people about. Because if they are not for you, your business could get “shegg up”.

Granny always knew that even when people are smiling with you and seem to be for you, secretly, they could be plotting against you.

So in matters of great importance Granny always urged, “Mum’s the word!”

For instance, if someone in our family was building a home or renovating. Granny always offered her spiritual advice.

Before the breaking of the ground, a prayer was often said. The land would be sprinkled with Jamaican white rum, to ward off the evil spirits. This usually ensured that no one got hurt while working on the new home.

In life, when people are making great progress such as financial success or career success or even having a loving family, not everyone is happy for that person. It could be their enemies or even their closest acquaintances. This is why Granny always felt it was imperative to protect oneself from the “evil eye” of others.

Once the residence was completed, it would be fumigated with incense, sprinkled with holy water and white rum. Then, within a few weeks, a celebration feast was held, where wild game was prepared on the spot of the construction.

All these activities were said to keep away the evil spirits and stop negative experiences from plaguing the home.

As a young woman Granny always urged me, “Ms. Mags, when you have your house one day, make sure that you always bless it properly, and be careful who crosses your doorways.”

Homes, and buildings have energy even if they are neuter gender. They may not have feelings, but they can still attract or repel positive or negative energy.

Granny would sometimes go on about some family she knew, who built a house and they couldn’t sleep at night time in the house. They were always awakened by whispers of voices in the house. Objects in the home were moved around or misplaced.

It was almost as if the home was haunted. The children in the home were constantly ill and they were always pestered by minor injuries.

There was no doubt in my Grandmother’s mind that the house needed a purging.

She urged the owners to change around the furniture to confuse the spirits. Then to wash the house down with ammonia. Plenty of prayers were to be said, the house had to be sprinkled with white rum in every crack and crevice. Candles were to remain lit for several days.

These minor activities may have seem very trivial and a bunch of rubbish. However, within a few weeks My Granny got a phone call thanking her.

The owners exclaimed, “The house doesn’t feel morbid anymore, it has such a light, cheery spirit within and everyone sleeps like a baby at night!”

Although curiosity lead the owners of the home to conduct research on why it felt haunted in the first place. My Grandmother already knew that there were unwelcome spirits roaming around. After the research was finished, experts found out that the home was built on a grave site.

No one bothered to ask the spirits for their permission. Their souls were ill at ease.

A cleansing of the home put their evil nature to rest and allowed the new family to enjoy their residence.

As I got older and spent more time with Granny, she never ceased to remind me that we are never truly “alone”. There are always spirits around us, good and bad. However, there are always precautions to take to deter the bad spirits.

So I guess what my Granny was trying to tell me is that, sometimes planning is overrated.
Hence the saying, “Man a plan, God a find out…..”

Folks may try to put “the kabosh” on your plans but just remember………..

There isn’t a better Master Planner than God. When men connive, or practice chicanery, to thwart your plans, they tend to forget, that God is always present. He sees and knows everything.

Tags: The Best Laid Plans. A Special Granny Story

Granny Gheeta and I talk about the power of the dead and dearly departed

Margaret Bailey — Wed, 01 Jul 2009 04:20:52 UT

The Caribbean culture is filled with mysticism, folklore and a great deal of superstition. Many believe these ideologies are “mullarkey” and just the ravings of “country people”.

Jamaica’s mystique has gained notoriety, partly because of its tales of ghosts, witches and bedlam. Each year many tourists flock to Jamaica because they have heard about the infamous “Annie Palmer”, the “white witch” of Rosehall. She came to Jamaica to seek her fortune at the bidding of a Soothe Sayer. She was successful at her goal, marrying a wealthy, English land baron living in Jamaica. However, after gaining wealth, power and prestige, the 4ft., petite woman became a mini tyrant which caused her slaves to have an uprising against her. The rebellion resulted in her death.

Her spirit to rule and take charge was so strong, that many say, she is still seen roaming around the halls of the Great House. As a child, I read many stories of Annie Palmer, but I never gave any credence to them because I was taught not to believe in the “Boogey Man”.

After being away from Jamaica for many years, I went to visit my Granny Gheeta. As we sat on the patio, talking about Jamaica and the changing times, I received a call from a few friends to accompany them on a journey to “Rose Hall”, the former residence of Annie Palmer.

I was quite ambivalent, because after all this time, Annie Palmer and her legend was just folklore and conjecture. I was also engrossed in a deep conversation with Granny Gheeta, and felt that it was more interesting than going sight-seeing. After ending the phone call, I asked Granny what she thought of me going to visit Rose Hall.

She said, “Go, there, you will find your strengths and true gift.”

I chuckled, “Yeah, Granny, you mean my strengths for good tourist bargains and souvenirs? I just hope there aren’t any duppies running around.

She smiled calmly, “Just go, and you’ll know once you are there.”

I responded quite matter-of-factly as I prepared for my journey to “Boo-Ville”.

“Sure, sure, Granny, if I am not back by a certain time, don’t hesitate to send the troops.”

Granny Gheeta winked cleverly at me.

As my entire group and I ascended to the hill of Rose Hall, I immediately felt chills. The house had a powerful lure all its own. It was immaculately maintained from the death of Annie Palmer until the present time. Although, I was beginning to feel the effects of her presence in the house, I was still a skeptic. I just kept saying, “You know, Jamaicans have a flair for the dramatic, this is just a spoof.”

Rose Hall was very grandiose, with several bedrooms, huge dining areas and the infamous cellar, where Annie Palmer was said to have experienced trysts with the male slaves.

I perused each room diligently, soaking up the charm and sinister feelings they had to offer. However, once I entered Ms. Palmer’s bedroom, I knew the tales were no longer folklore. Her presence became real, I turned around to see if my group was around but they had vanished in another direction.

I was in the middle of her bedroom, while the chandelier started shaking, a great wind began to whirl. It was as if her spirit had recognized mine. I remembered my Granny used to always say, “Thank the spirits for allowing you to invade their space.”

So I did just that, and departed quietly from the room. I descended the staircase to the backyard where she was buried, and I saw an apparition of a little woman, with long brown hair in a white, Victorian nightgown running across the field.

I had never seen any pictures of Annie Palmer before, so when I inquired about her appearance to one of the Tour Guides, she confirmed the image I had viewed was the likeness of Annie Palmer.

Upon my departure from Rose Hall I knew, The Legend of Annie Palmer was not just folklore. It was real. Her spirit still lived in the Great White House. I left the house a bit shaken and stirred, but had it not been for the coaxing of Granny Gheeta, I probably would not have understood the experience.

The few moments of conversation that we experienced prepared me for the revelation of my god-given “gift”.

Once I returned home and told Granny Gheeta of my experience, she never questioned any of the details. It was a quiet understanding between us, it was my rite of passage.

At that moment, I felt compelled to ask Granny Gheeta what was her thoughts on Ghosts and Spirits.

She responded, “I believe that souls who are troubled when they die, remain unrested. They usually roam for closure.”

That simple answer made me really think. How many times has it been exposed, when someone dies unexpectedly, family members report seeing them roaming around? Then, after thorough investigations, it is revealed that their death was unnatural or suspicious.

Granny began telling me the story of Chandrai Mittal, a beloved acquaintance, who had died suddenly. When the rest of her family members went to the house to retrieve her body, they had found out that all her private belongings had been ransacked and her precious jewels had been taken. As far as they knew she lived alone. Then, it was revealed that in the later days of her life she had taken in a border who frightened her to death. It was common knowledge that Chandrai Mittal had a weak heart, so basically all the border had to do was set the stage and circumstance.

Granny sighed as she told the story, but then she smiled serenely, “Anyway, justice was served, about ten days later they found the little vagabond, dead, hanging off his bed with a crick neck. Many people in Jamaica say that the duppy of Chandrai Mittal gave him a visit and “box” the living daylights out of him. Magli, that’s why one should never dawdle or mess with dead peoples’ things. The spirits are always watching.

Granny Gheeta was a quiet woman with little words to say, but when she did voice her opinion it was prophetic.

Therefore, as I write this Granny story a few days after the death of Michael Jackson, I can’t help but hope and pray that he too will get his justice. In death, the soul has invisible powers, free to roam and create havoc.

I believe that eventhough he was not able to clear his name in Life, that the power of the Almighty will give him the chance to do it in death.

So rest in peace Prince Michael, Jamaicans loved you, believed in you and always will…………

Granny and I realize it’s a Mad, Mad World out there!

Margaret Bailey — Mon, 01 Jun 2009 04:43:55 UT

Once people arrive at certain ages they tend to be mellow and calm. Perhaps it is because they have experienced so many events in their lives, that the years have given them a reference in order to decipher the melodramas from the mini-dramas.

My Granny was one of those people who did not let petty people or their actions bother her. She felt as long as God was on her side, they all could eat dust and die. Her ideology was, that they were being instigated by Satan anyway, so they would do the world a favor by disappearing into obscurity.

Granny and I experienced a day where it seemed as if the whole wide world had lost their senses.

As Grandparents get older their days are usually filled with mundane tasks and shopping. So on my summer holidays, I would occasionally spend a day or two with Granny while she ran her errands. My Granny could make an event out of the simplest task.

As we made our rounds to the Millinery shop to purchase felt for hat making and acquiring measurements, Granny experienced a tete ‘a’ tete with the lady overseeing the shop.

“Do you folks have an appointment?”

Granny looked at the woman strangely.

“What do you mean if we have an appointment?”

“I have been coming to Ms. Florisham’s shop, every Wednesday for some forty-something years and I have never been asked such an impertinent question. My mother comes here and my Aunt comes here. They all know me here.”

The woman turned to my Grandmother and said, “Let me look in my appointment book.”

Well, even I knew there was going to be “bacanal“, and I was hoping that whoever was behind curtain #1 would swiftly present themselves.

Granny began mumbling, “When did they get an appointment book, I’ve been going to Ms. Florisham’s shop from the time her store was on a dirt road in Kellits, now she has spread out and have stores all over Kingston and the Parishes, they are getting fancy on me!”

Granny turned to the young woman and continued asking, “ Miss, where is Ms. Florisham?”

“M’am, she was called away to Mandeville on business.”

“Well, I shan’t conduct any business here until Ms. Florisham returns. She knows me, I paid her to make half a dozen hats for my grandchildren and a felt hat for my husband. Please tell her Sister B came calling.”

Granny grabbed my hand and we marched out of the Florisham establishment.

The hoity-toity lady had mashed my Grandmother’s corn and I had a feeling that Granny was about to mash hers.

Granny and I continued on our mission a bit exasperated and inconvenienced but we trudged along like troopers determined to accomplish our tasks for the day.

Granny commented, “What is wrong with people ? Sometimes it seems as if they get a sick satisfaction out of giving others a difficult time. You wouldn’t understand Ms. Mags, but there are times when folks can act as if the have the power of attorney for Satan.”

“Huh…Granny?”

“You’ll see, when you get older. Just pray and believe in God always.”

We arrived at the Haberdashery, where Granny needed to order some items for her garden to be delivered. It seems as every item that she wanted was out of stock. She was frustrated.

“You know I have been coming to this store for as long as I can remember, and I have never been told they don’t have the products in stock. Do you have any idea when the items will be in?”

The store clerks looked at her with a blank, indifferent glance, and answered, “No”.

Granny raised her voice a few octaves, “This is absurd! Are you open for business or are you here for Tea time?”

The staff in the store started flittering around, yet they were still not accomplishing what Granny had desired.

“Imagine, I call Mr. Kingsley from half past three yesterday to tell him I was coming to get these items, and now that I am here, I am being told you are out of stock! Where is Mr. Kingsley?”

“We don’t know Mrs.”

“Alright then, tell him that Sister B came by for the items discussed and for him to please call me.”

By this time my nice calm, mellow Grandmother was slowly beginning to seethe with annoyance and contempt for peoples’ lack of decency, customer service and due diligence.

It was hard for my Granny to grasp the complacency of individuals. She came from an era where folks always moved heaven and earth to help each other. It was unacceptable for her to hear a store clerk or anyone in Public Service saying they can’t help or that there isn’t a solution.

As Granny and I made our way to King Street to visit the Seamstress, we wondered if we would have impediments there as well. By this time we both came to the realization that the world had gone mad while we slept. People woke up the next day and just didn’t care two Aetioti Apples about anything.

This visit to the seamstress was for me, Granny had asked her make two pinafore dresses in gingham prints for my Independence Holiday. I was excited to try them on to make sure they were altered properly. As the seamstress tried pinning me for specific alterations, each time she kept sticking me with the pins.

I yelled “Ouch!” hoping that would be a direct hint for her to be more mindful.

The first time, I thought, her hand slipped, then it happened a second and a third time. I immediately called for Granny. I whispered in her ear and told her what happened.

Granny cleared the room, asking me to leave, with hems hanging. The next thing I heard was Granny yelling at the top of her lungs.

“My Granddaughter indicated to you that you were hurting her, but you just kept on doing what you were doing. What is wrong with you? Can’t you see she is just a child?

You know what ? Don’t bother with the dresses, I’ll find somewhere that’s more caring.”

My Granny compensated her for the time she spent on the samples, but she made it quite clear she was not going to patronize her store any longer.

I felt a bit shook up from the experience, so Granny decided it would be a nice treat for us to go to the market and buy some fresh fruit. We decided to make a stop at Solos Market, where all the Higglers were out in full swing. Every fruit imaginable was out on display. Mangoes, sweet sop, sour sop, naseberrys, guineps, june plums and star apples. I was delighted. It was the best idea my Granny had all year.

Granny and I carefully selected a few bags of fruits, the Higgler weighed them, we paid for it and we were on our merry way. While on the way home, I asked Granny if it would be alright for me to have a plum. She didn’t usually approve of any of her grandchildren eating in public places, but it was a very hot summer’s day, so she agreed.

I reached for the bag of plums to have one and the plums looked as if they had returned from a war. The plums were beaten and battered, as if someone had taken their fingers and poked holes into them.

I turned to Granny and said, “Granny those weren’t the plums we selected.”

Granny grabbed my hands and said, “Come Mags, we’re going back to the Market right now, check the other bags and make sure the other fruits are good.”

The other fruits were good, but the plums had been tampered with. Granny and I agreed that was not cool.

So off we went to the Market, ready to explain the situation to the Higgler, except, she was gone.

Granny and I decided that the World had undoubtedly gone Mad, Mad and we were the only two Alices left in Wonderland.

Once we reached back home and settled in, Granny received phone calls from Ms. Florisham and Mr. Kingsley apologizing profusely for their inept staff.

Granny made it quite clear to both Shopkeepers that the only reason she patronized their business was because it was a long standing, family tradition. She also said that any day they ceased treating her with the respect and dignity she deserved, it would be the end of her association with them.. After that information was conveyed my Granny , the Florishams and Kingsley’s endured a good relationship until she migrated to America.

The most interesting discovery in this drama was the fact that it wasn’t actually the owners who were the problem. It was the personnel they left in charge.

Like the say in Jamaica, “If you don’t know how something come, you don’t care if it lef.”

Meaning, when you have a vested interest in anything, whether Family, Business, Home, Property, etc., one is more inclined to hang in there for the long haul. However, when you have nothing at stake, it is a lot easier to have a devil may care attitude.

Tags: Granny and I tackle the complexity of Infertility

Granny & I tackle the complexity of Infertility

Margaret Bailey — Fri, 01 May 2009 04:05:46 UT

From the time a girl is born in Jamaica, she is groomed to take on the role of wife and mother. Regardless of her academic accomplishments, a young woman is expected to take on the task of being a matriarch of her own family.

Most secondary education in Jamaica, required girls to take subjects such as cooking, baking, sewing and knitting. The fine arts such as ikebana, macramé and home decoration are taught to girls during the course of their regular studies.

Therefore, it is quite understandable, that once most young women complete their education, they are eager to assume their roles as wife and mother. For some women, these accomplishments are gained quite easily. For others, becoming a parent is nothing short of a dramatic situation.

Infertility is a subject that people in Jamaica don’t talk about easily. It is synonymous to using the word “cancer”. There is a sense of shame or failure associated with the word, so most women do not feel comfortable talking about the subject.

I first became familiar with the topic when I was about 11 years old. Granny and her neighbor were talking about her Granddaughter, Lorna. Granny kept asking the lady how her Granddaughter was doing?

The lady answered, “Sister B, she lost the baby again.”

Granny’s face was overcome with grief and sorrow for this young lady whom she barely knew.

Granny continued, “ Did you tell her to try the Lydia Pinkham? That tonic is a miracle tonic. She needs to take two tablespoons of that everyday, and in no time, Lorna will be holding her little bundle of joy. Her womb is weak, she needs to strengthen it.”
Mrs. Dinkleberry looked at Granny in amazement, “You mean to tell me that the tonic in the little pink box, can do all of that?”

Granny kept on talking, “I’m telling you “Dinkles”, that tonic has been helping women for generations. You know, it seems that most of these young girls nowadays are having a difficult time to conceive. It is not just your child alone. You know, I tell these girls of mine, to stay away from the high heels and the tight jeans and trousers. The high heels only help to twist up their female parts and the tight clothes, cut off their circulation. The poor organs don’t have any breathing room.”

Mrs. Dinkleberry smiled, “You know, Sister B, you may have a point there. If you ever see Lorna in the high heels. She was three months pregnant and wearing three inch heels.

Do you know how many times I urge her to wear sensible shoes?”

Granny shook her head, “It’s a shame, she’s such a sweet girl.”
By this time, I was thoroughly confused about the conversation. These women acted like it was the worst fate ever, not being able to conceive or give birth to a child. One would have thought there was no hope, or that Lorna was pronounced with an incurable illness.
After Granny ended her conversation with Mrs. Dinkleberry, I interjected. I wanted to know more about this subject “I-n-f-e-r-t-i-l-i-t-y” and why it was such a taboo subject. It seemed that women always spelled the word out instead of just discussing it. The topic would be followed by oohs, and aaahhs and ssshushes.

I asked Granny quite candidly, “What is this subject of Infertility? Why is it surrounded with doom and gloom?”

Granny looked at me, as if not sure how to begin explaining, then she started rambling, “I always tell you girls not to go climbing any trees, wear tight clothes or high heels. You know why? All these factors contribute to Infertility. That’s when a woman can’t have a baby.”

“So that makes them sad Granny?”

Granny sighed, “Some women get extremely sad and make it their life’s mission. For instance, do remember Dorcas’s daughter? “

“I think so. The tall, slender girl that used to go to Holy Childhood?”

“Yes. That same one. She had dengue fever when she was young. When she got married, she found out she wasn’t able to have a baby because of the illness. Well, Dorcas and her mother travel the globe seeking all kind of medical help. She was a guinea pig for every new drug and dye they discovered for infertility. Her sojourn for a child almost mad her mad. Eventually she gave up. Then one day, I was talking to her mother and told her about Lydia Pinkham. In less than a year, Dorcas conceived. She had a son. If you ever see that child. He is tall, healthy and strong looking. So that is what I was explaining to “Dinkles”.

I was in awe of this subject. Being a woman seemed complicated and intricate. I was thankful that I was still a minor playing with my dolls.

“Granny, why does God make these things happen to women?”

“Good question Mags. My mother used to say, “God never makes a mistake”. Sometimes not everyone is meant to be a mother. Motherhood is a gift, not meant to be taken lightly.
Some women become mothers by adoption, others by mere happenstance. God has his reasons for everything. Girls are so delicate, they can’t be tossed around and then expected to deliver the “prize cow”.

That is why when my girls became a certain age, I forbade your Grandfather to spank them. Aggravations to the body, can dramatically alter a young woman’s ability to conceive. I am not a Doctor, but women are just made differently. Our bodies cannot endure turmoil and remain completely intact. This is why I am always telling you and your cousins, when sitting, sit down gently. Don’t just plop yourself in a chair, the jolting upsets your body.”

I suddenly realized that all of my Granny’s heedings had meanings behind them. In Jamaica, people always say, “There is a reason for everything”. Well, it took me eleven years to find out why Granny was always scolding, “No tree climbing! No tight clothes and sit down like a nice, demure, young lady!”

She was just looking out for her future generations.

Many people in society look at women who are barren as useless contributors to the World. So much of our culture is based on building families and creating a legacy. Even if women were to accomplish being Leaders of many nations and were unable to conceive or provide an heir, they would be disregarded as inconsequential.
In the Caribbean culture our success in life is gauged by partners and children, regardless of our status in life. Like the Frank Sinatra song goes, “You’re nobody until somebody loves you.” In the West Indies our version of the song would be, “You’re nobody until you have your own family.”

At 11 years old, I became acquainted with a topic that causes a lot of pain and heartache for women, but thanks to my Granny she urged me to believe that with God all things are possible, and while medical science can be helpful, we should never forget to explore the natural resources God has put on this Earth to help us.

Although my Granny’s advice to eat healthy, wear comfortable clothing and not lay our bodies carelessly may seem simple. Her success rate has been phenomenal. Therefore, I’m wagering my bets on Granny’s Old Wives’ Remedies.

Tags: Granny and I tackle the complexity of Infertility

Granny & I discuss a Taboo Subject: Obeah in Jamaica

Margaret Bailey — Tue, 31 Mar 2009 12:00:00 UT

Obeah is a topic that not too many people openly discuss in the Caribbean. Most people only mention the word when they feel that something isn’t quite right in their lives.
When I was growing up in Jamaica, I would often hear the word being thrown around in conversations, but it was always used as a joke or to scare someone who was being a bully.
As I matured and gained interests such as watching “Dark Shadows” , reading books about horoscopes and the occult, I grew curious about the word “Obeah” that was often thrown around in conversations.
Although my Granny was a religious woman, she always used to say, that the purity of one’s soul usually attracted more evil. Therefore, as a praying woman, she knew about the mysterious effects of the pagan religion they call Obeah and in some countries, Santeria.
Granny was generally ambivalent to talk about such “dark subjects”, but one day I decided to “push the envelope” to find out about this macabre activity.
It was a time in life when I had started Convent School, girls were dating boys and the conversations were brimming with all sorts of interesting anecdotes. I would hear girls say such things like, “If you really like that guy, you betta get some “oil of don’t leave me” or “mek him something nice and tie him to you”.
I often wondered what in God’s name they were talking about. So, I mustered up the courage to approach Granny about the “forbidden” subject..
“Granny, what exactly is Obeah? I have been hearing this word since I was little.”
Granny gave a deep sigh and then belted out a hearty laugh.
“Do you really want to know what Obeah is?”
“Yes, Granny, but first, is it something bad and scary?”
Granny responded, “Anything that has nothing to do with the Almighty is a sin.”
My interest grew by the minute and I became more adamant to find out about the subject.
Granny continued, “Most people only use Obeah because they are usually ignorant, jealous or envious of other people. It is involved with devil worshipping and is used for evil.”
I suddenly realized that this word “Obeah” was not as simple as everyone portrayed it to be. It was a word that was associated with sinister happenings.
I turned to my Granny in a quizzical manner, “So, Granny, you mean to tell me that if somebody is jealous of you, that they will use Obeah against you.”
“Yes, my love, people do strange things when they are desperate.”
“For instance, when Mrs. Sandringham’s daughter was doing excellent in school, getting Distinctions in her A Levels and O levels, all of a sudden she came down with a mysterious illness. The poor girl almost died. They took her to all sorts of Doctors both in Jamaica and overseas and they all could not find a scientific explanation for her illness.
It wasn’t until they sent for me to pray for her, the spirit told me something wasn’t right. I told them to take the child to Dr. Maccabee. Altough he was a Medical Doctor, that man was blessed and he could see beyond the physical world.”
I was enthralled with Granny’s story about this mysterious subject, and I wanted to delve further.
“Granny, what happened when they took her to Dr. Maccabee?”
“That man took one look at Natasha and said, “Whatever is wrong with this child is not medical, it is spiritual. Call it “High Science”.
“High Science Granny?”
“Yes, that’s what he said. I prayed for that child morning, noon and night until God gave me a vision.”
I urged Granny for an explanation, “What happened with the doctor? Did he do anything?”
“Dr. Maccabee studied abroad in African countries and Haiti, so he gave Mrs. Sandringham the name of a Bush Doctor. Mrs. Sandringham asked me to go with her, but as you know, I serve the Lord, so I went, but sat outside, and waited for her to take care of her business. The first thing the Bush Doctor said was, “Dem envy you poor daughter, she have envy and covetousness written all over her. Dem trying to mek her mad, but her spirit is strong. She’s too bright and intelligent and it mek some people nervous.”
My eyes were filled with surprise and astonishment, to find out at such a tender age that people could be so wicked to cast a spell on someone because of mere jealousy.
“Well, Granny, what did Mrs. Sandringham do? Did she run, and think that the Bush Doctor was crazy?’
“No, she didn’t run and he was not crazy. I had a vision the night before we went to the Bush Doctor and in the vision, I got a message from God that Natasha allowed one of her classmates to play in her hair and they cut off a piece of the hair when she wasn’t paying attention. Natasha had long hair all the way down to her bottom, so it was quite easy to snip a tip of her hair without her noticing. All the Bush Doctor did was confirm my vision and give Mrs. Sandringham some herbs and prayers to say. I think he even gave her the initials of the person who was trying to destroy her daughter.”
“What happened Granny? Don’t stop the story there, tell me nuh?’
“Between myself and Mrs. Sandringham, we boil the herbs and gave Natasha to drink. I had a vision to douse her head in olive oil, limacol and white rum and wrap it up with a red scarf for nine days. We prayed my prayers and the prayers from the Bush Doctor, and on the tenth day, Natasha started having convulsions, then she started throwing up. If you ever saw the slime that came out of her, you would die. The next day, Natasha was fine, as if nothing was ever wrong. Now she’s a big time Brain Surgeon in Tennessee.”
“What a wickedness these people do, eh Granny?”
“The Bible tells us that there is evil in this world that’s why we have to stay close to God and his word. That is our protection from envy, jealousy and strife. In every creation there is good and evil. I think that there is good Obeah that can be used to counteract evil, like the Bush Doctor that Dr. Maccabee sent us to, he was working with good spirits and the energy of God.”
“Granny did you ever experience Obeah in our family?”
“Let me think…..Oh yes! When my cousin AllSenior’s wife collapse for no earthly reason. Everyone was mystified. Doctors came from all over the world and couldn’t find any plausible explanation. She was a beautiful, healthy woman and one day she just fell down in her kitchen. After that, her hair started falling out and it was like she was a zombie, she could not stay awake for more than five minutes at a time. They called me up and told me about it. That same night my mother came to me in a vision and told me that there is a woman that is secretly in love with AllSenior and she is trying to break up his marriage , and she throw a “blow” to his wife.”
“What’s a “blow” Granny?”
“A “blow” is a evil wish or thought fueled with lots of negative energy. AllSenior’s wife was supposed to die, but with the grace of the Heavenly Father, we prayed, fed her herbs and lit candles. She was never the same again, but was victorious, because she stayed alive and kept her husband until God was ready for her.
“Gee Granny, why are people so evil?”
“Who knows sweetheart…..That’s another discussion, for another time.”
My education of Obeah came to me in my pre-adolescent years from my Granny who was extremely religious, but was aware that evil loomed in this world. I was fortunate to receive the information from an authentic source. Granny also taught me that many people will claim they have spiritual powers and are “gifted”, however, the true healers of our society usually ask for little in return and function on God power. She also mentioned that with everything, there is cause and effect. Never wish someone evil or plot against them, because Karma will get you every time. She followed up her wisdom with the story of the man who sought an Obeah woman to gain riches and notoriety. At first, it worked and he became one of the most prominent citizens in Jamaica and then one day out of the blue, plagues started taking hold of his family and his house eventually got washed away in filth. Literally.
There wasn’t any scientific explanation for this occurrence, except, “We reap what we sow.” The Bible says, that the evil and those who practice iniquity will flourish like olive trees, but that happens only because, when it is time for them to fall, their demise will be great and unforgettable.
It is always best in matters of life, love and success, to make nature take its course. So, I leave you with the words of my everloving Grandmother, “If you can’t do good, don’t do bad.”

In Memory of LB, MB and JM, M.D.

Tags: Granny & I discuss a Taboo Subject: Obeah in Jamaica

Granny declares, "Babies are not playthings!"

Margaret Bailey — Sat, 28 Feb 2009 12:00:00 UT

Many remarks have been made about caring for babies. Some have been old wives’ tales,

while others are mere conjecture, a result of modern research and technology.

My Granny loved babies. Even when she started to get old and senile, the first question Granny she would ask was, “Where’s the baby?” or “Whose baby are you again?”

Granny’s role in the family included giving advice to family members who were expecting. I remember being privy to several conversations my Grandmother would have regarding babies and pregnancy.

She would often urge the expectant mothers, “Make sure you look at plenty pretty pictures in the magazine.”

When Granny was questioned about this remark, she would say, “There is an old wives tale that says, if you look at pretty pictures, a woman was more likely to have good looking children.”

Then there was the advice about cravings, “Try not to crave anything unattainable or else your child will have a birthmark of what you crave.”

Then she would tell the story of the lady who craved strawberries, and since they were imported from abroad and out of season., her baby was born with a small strawberry tattoo.

Once the babies were born Granny set out on her mission. She showed most family members how to care for their babies.

Granny would go on and on with instructions, “You have to rub down the baby every night and evening with olive oil, so that the child have nice smoothe skin.”

“If you don’t rub down the baby from head to toe, the child will have skin like an alligator. Also, use plenty baby powder so that the poor little thing doesn’t get prickly heat.”

When questioned about her olive oil theory, Granny commented, “The baby won’t get cradle cap and the olive oil keeps evil away. You know, evil spirits like to be around babies, because of their innocence.”

Then she would give further explanation by saying, “If somebody dies and there is a young baby around, you have to pass the baby over the coffin, so that the ghost of the dead person doesn’t play with the baby.”

I have to admit that I found some of her thoughts a bit ridiculous. However, I can recall a time when I was taking care of my cousin’s newborn. My Granny would show me how to hold the baby so that their posture remains nice and straight. Sometimes I would get a bit carried away, because I liked to bathe the babies and dress them up in cute outfits. At nine years old, a baby reminded me of a live doll.

Whenever I went overboard with the powdering, brushing the hair and changing the baby several times per day, Granny would interrupt by saying, “Magsie, the baby is not your dolly or a plaything. If you bathe the baby too much, he/she will get pneumonia.”

Granny’s theory of “Ghosts and babies” became true to me one day after I had fed my little cousin. I stood burping the baby after her feeding, then I was going back and forth hushing the baby and happened to pass by a mirror. I saw the baby looking in the opposite direction reaching out and gurgling. Almost as if she had recognized someone.

The someone the baby reached out for was her Great-Grandad. He never had a chance to meet his grandchild, so he had apparently come to visit. After this episode, The babies pram, cradle and nursery were decorated with red. One of Granny’s favorite colors.

Granny always said that the color red, runs duppies away.

In Jamaica, Mothers and Grandmothers take so much pride into the grooming and cleanliness of their babies. Their babies skin is well cared for because they equate “peaches and cream” skin with healthy children.

Babies’ nappies or Pampers were washed and then rinsed in hot steaming, boiling water, with blue. This process ensured the elimination of bacteria and kept the babies’ nappies sparkling white.

If a child had sallow skin or jaundice looking skin, it would be assumed that he/she is not well cared for. The health of your skin was also determined by outbreaks. If it healed properly without turning into a sore or “fassey”, one was said to have good genes.

When it came to nutrition, old fashioned Jamaican mothers believed in feeding their babies cornmeal porridge or warm water and condensed milk. To give a baby “mixed up” formula was like feeding your child a T.V. dinner. Babies thrived on these beverages. If parents had a strong, robust baby, it was usually because they had a healthy diet of corn meal porridge, warm condensed milk, milo or ovaltine.

A Jamaican baby was never put to bed without one of these mixtures in hand. It was a sure way for any baby to sleep through the night.

Fruit Juices were rarely fed to babies after noon, because it was said to rotten their teeth prematurely. The babies would fall asleep with their bottles, and all the sugar from the juices would settle on their teeth. After a time, the residue of sugar was said to decay teeth.

Have you ever seen a toddler with rotten teeth?

If yes, nine out of ten times this problem was attributed to babies falling asleep with their juice bottles.

Today, Pediatricians shun such habits and discount them as old-fashioned ideas, but back then, children did not have as many ailments as they do today.

If a baby had an upset stomach or colic, the best medicine was plain old gripe water. A few doses in the baby’s drinking water and all tummy upsets were cleared up.

In modern society, they ply the children with drugs and chemicals which eventually result in side effects.

Granny believed in her antiquated ways and raising eight children and several grandchildren were her live testaments to her success.

You could often hear Granny putting her two cents in, “Nowadays, all they want to do is experiment with these babies. They are not dollies or toys! They are real-live human beings.”

Granny felt that our generation has used modern technology to label everything. In her opinion, most childhood maladies could be cured with love, attention and home-made remedies. If the child did not respond to either of these options, then and only then, the Doctor was called.

God, old-fashioned remedies and plenty of prayers were her mainstay for health and well-being. After all, God was the supreme Doctor. Granny would often times ask, “What if the Doctor did not have an answer?”

When she asked this question, I always thought of this Jamaican nursery rhyme, “Carry me baby go a doctor, Doctor sey him no want it, wey mi fi do, wey mi fi do……Dash him dung a gulley?”

So if the Doctor has no cure, are people going to throw away their children?

Absolutely not. They are going to try alternative remedies until something saves the day.

So, Caribbean mothers will continue to rub down their children with rose water when they have a high fever, bathe them in tamarind leaves when they have eczema and tell them to spell their names with water when they have the hiccups.

Although babies are cute, cuddly and lovable……They are not for experimenting. God made them and whatever God does, you can believe it is First Class all the way!!!!!

If Granny were here she would say, “God never makes a mistake! Everything he does, is quality assured!”

Tags: Grand I talk about Childhood Infectious Diseases

Granny and I talk about Childhood Infectious Disease

Margaret Bailey — Sun, 01 Feb 2009 22:15:02 UT

A lifestyle in Jamaica provided children with a good education , picturesque atmospheres, as well as strict principles and social mores.

However, part of growing up and going to school in Jamaica also included being immunized against infectious diseases such as polio, smallpox, measles and chicken pox.

Because most Caribbean Scientists believed that in warmer climates, germs and bacteria tend to spread like wild fires. During the ‘70’s there was an outbreak of polio and everyone was panic stricken.

Schools in Jamaica made it part of the curriculum for all children to be immunized.

I remember dreading the immunizations because the needles always seemed larger than life. My friends and I thought that once we tried being vaccinated we would surely faint from the mere sight of the needle.

One afternoon while visiting Granny, I was playing in her garden when one of her rosebushes pricked me on my arm. As usual, I ran into the house to Granny yelling,

“Granny, Granny macca juck me!”

I was visibly upset because I began to have an allergic reaction to the flowers in Granny’s garden. One tiny prick turned into a huge welt and the itching began.

Granny came running out of her parlour, “What’s the matter with you child? I think everyone can hear you all the way in New Kingston.”

I was like any child who had a traumatic experience, I was jumping up and down with anxiety and discomfort.

Granny urged me, “Calm yourself, tell Granny what happened.”

“Well, Granny, I know I’m not supposed to play with the flowers in the garden, but they were so beautiful…….Anyway, the rosebush stick me on my arm. Look Granny it is swollen and I think it is getting infected by the minute.”

“I always tell you children that the devil finds mischief all the time. Come with Granny, I think you’re having an allergic reaction to the green leaves on the bush.”

Granny took me to her medicine chest and poured some iodine on the bruise. Then she made a poultice of garlic and onions,then wrapped the area tightly with gauze.

She scolded, “Now go and have a seat on the settee in the parlour, I’m going to draw some cerasee tea to get the toxins out of your system.”

“Toxins Granny? What are toxins?”

Granny continued, “Apparently you had an allergic reaction, so the rosebush must have some poison that doesn’t agree with your system. So, Granny is making cerasee tea for you, to cleanse away the impurities, the swelling and redness should go away.”

I smiled reluctantly at her, secretly hoping she was right. I feared the worst, I was thinking that if her remedy didn’t work, my arm would be the size of a jack fruit….then what?

Granny sat with me on the settee cradling my arms . We both started reminiscing about all the childhood maladies she had experienced with me.

She commented, “Remember the time when you were on Summer Holidays and you had made cherry juice from the tree?”

“Yeah, after I drank the juice I started itching.”

Granny started to laugh, “I came home from church and saw you drenched in powder from head to toe. Not to mention you were wreaking of limacol, rosewater and ponds cold cream. Every piece of furniture within the house had baby powder all over it.”

“Granny, I remember that I tried everything, and the next day you took me to the Doctor and it was the MEASLES. Till this day I swore the cherry juice gave me the measles.”

“That’s absurd,” Granny remarked.

“I later found out the little girl you were playing with had just gotten over the measles, so it might be possible you got it from her. The Doctor wanted you to take all kind of medicines, and I thought you were much too young to be taking all those pills.”

“Granny, those pills were like horse pills just looking at them made me anxious.”

Granny chuckled, “There is nothing like old fashioned remedies. I put those odious pills into the medicine chest and boiled up some tamarind leaves and poured the juice into the tub. For a week straight, I sopped you with the tamarind water and then rubbed you up with calamine lotion. In no time you were up and about and it was like the measles never happened.”

“You know what I remember Granny?”

“No, what?”

“I thought you were koo-koo sopping my head with bayrum every night.“

Granny patted me on my shoulder, “That was to break the fever, with the measles you had a very high temperature. You know a high fever can give anybody a stroke.”

“Well it’s a good thing you were on task Granny.”

I was still confused as to how I got the measles, because I was immunized. But Granny always called me her delicate grandchild. If a breeze swept through the place, I would be most likely to catch it.”

So my Grandmother began a disinfecting and cleansing campaign. She made sure I carried “wet ones” with me everywhere I went. When I visited her house, Granny made sure everything was disinfected and spotless.

Commenting, “One man‘s folly, could be another man’s death.”

This phrase meant, that what others may take for granted, might be detrimental to some.

At the tender age of seven Granny introduced me to Pinesol and it became my closest friend. She also made it her business to remind the school teachers not to send their sick children to school. She knew that every time I became ill, it was because a neglectful parent sent their child to school with chicken pox, measles or the mumps.

Although Granny brought in reinforcements, such as ferroll, cod liver oil and anarexol to build my resistance. She knew the only way to stop germs from spreading were to make sure parents were more diligent about quarantining their children when ill. Therefore, the bacteria doesn’t have a ping-pong effect.

Whenever a grandchild was ill, Granny made sure they utilized their own utensils and it was kept separate from the other members’ of the household. Phones were always disinfected, door knobs and light switches were cleaned regularly.

Most people might think that all these efforts were displays of scornfulness. However, Granny always knew that I was not like other children. I was different.

That old saying, “Cleanliness is next to Godliness” has a special meaning for me.

It means that wherever I may go, I have to travel with my own “things” because I am functioning on a different frequency than everyone else.

As an adult, I have tried to travel lightly, but it always comes down to being, “Ms. Bag and Pan” Let’s be honest….Germs are lurking everywhere!

I know Granny would say an emphatic Amen to that.

Tags: Grand I talk about Childhood Infectious Diseases

A Conversation with Granny: History of Jews in Jamaica

Margaret Bailey — Sun, 01 Feb 2009 00:49:43 UT

When Foreigners think of the Caribbean they mostly think of people of color, however, after many travels and research they realize that the Caribbean consists of many different nationalities and cultures.

Jamaica is no exception. In Jamaica, one can find many native Jamaicans whose ancestors hailed from foreign lands such as England, Ireland, Asia, India, Israel, South America and Germany. Upon meeting them, one would think that they are tourists, but after a conversation it becomes quite clear that they are knowledgeable about Jamaica and its culture.

Their dialect of patois and Jamaican mannerisms would certainly convince any skeptical onlooker of their authenticity.

While I was growing up in Jamaica I became aware that a lot of businesses on the Island were owned by Jews. For instance, R. H. Hanna and Issa’s, both large department stores in Jamaica.

I would often question my Granny on Friday afternoons when their shutters were closed, about the dismal feeling of King Street.

Granny would comment, “It’s Sabbath and everybody is making tracks to go home now to serve God.”

I was not usually happy with this answer since buying material for frocks would have to be postponed until after the Sabbath.

Once Sundown had arrived all work ceased. This was always evident with my Grandmother’s bundles of toilet paper left around the house.

Supposedly, it was considered work to tear toilet paper from the spindle. So all that “work” had to be done prior to the Sabbath.

Granny and I would often engage in conversations about the diversity of Jamaica and the importance of practicing one’s culture. Although, in America and other countries, Judaism is viewed as a Religion, I realize that there were aspects of my upbringing that embraced being Jewish. Hence the terminology “Jewmaican“, that I often heard in fleeting conversations within my family.

During my childhood Granny always urged the importance of practicing the Sabbath and she had an absurd obsession with cleanliness. Like many Jews in America, Granny was compulsive about food preparation and personal hygiene. She also stressed how vital it was to be private in reference to “female” issues.

As a little girl, my Granny made sure that her grandchildren bathed three times a day, especially the girls. Granny would always joke, “ A young woman has to keep herself nice and rosy, A man will not want to get close to you if you smell like a dead rat.”

If any of her grand girls were experiencing their “monthly visitor” we were not allowed to handle food items or associate with the opposite sex. As a matter of fact, a lot of our activities were very limited.

When I questioned Granny about this ritual, she would often respond, “ It is all in the name of cleanliness!”

Apparently, many Jews believe that when a female is experiencing changes in her body, it releases inpurities. Thus making them unfit to participate in food preparation or handling.

As I got older, Granny talked to me about the sanctity of being able to have relationships with boys, however, it was crucial not to let them become too familiar with you. In her estimation, the only male that should touch or become familiar with a pubescent female is either her mother or husband.

Granny often felt that not everyone’s hands were clean and that the skin had an indefinite memory, therefore if a young girl allowed herself to be handled by many different males. It would take a long time to remove their aura from her. If they were not pure in heart, their toxicity was left on her, therefore, creating spiritual problems.

In modern society, so many women openly divulge their “female issues” without any ambivalence. My Grandmother often urged that it was necessary to keep your privacy regarding “feminine issues“. In a world where women parade around in their lingerie without any remorse, my Granny considered these acts sacred violations.

She felt that a young lady should have herself covered from head to toe at all times and be modest in her dressing. The only person that should ever view her “under things” or bare body should be her husband or mother.

Granny would say, “Make sure you keep your personal effects under wraps. If you make “just anybody” view your “girly items” you’re creating the atmosphere of familiarity and they may take certain liberties with you.”

My Grandmother always emphasized the importance of a woman maintaining her integrity and keeping herself above impropriety at all times.

When packing for trips she would remind me to keep my intimate garments away from prying eyes. Granny would reiterate that if someone other than a close relation touched them, the items would be deemed contaminated.

These are some of the reasons why it should be imperative that Customs Officers exercise caution when going through peoples’ personal effects. Sometimes, they are violating customs and religious rites.

When it came to food, Granny was adamant about cleanliness. She constantly “dinned” in my head, how important it was to wash your hands after using the bathroom. Picking one’s nose was never an option, she felt it was a bad habit and people would scorn you if you continually touched parts of your body and then pursued food handling.

At one point, I became so fanatical about hand washing that I may have developed a mild case of OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder). I washed my hands so many times until they started to get sore.

All through my growing years Granny continued to address the uncleanliness of certain foods, like pork and crustaceans. She felt that pork was unclean and that consuming it, would make one sick, especially if it was not prepared properly. Granny also viewed Crustaceans, such as shrimp and fish as scavengers of the sea, and would continually remind me how unhealthy it was to consume these items.

If utensils were used to prepare any of these food groups, my Granny would quickly dispose of the pots and pans associated with them.

Living in Jamaica where a great part of our culture involved Jerk Pork, fish and shrimp. Sometimes denying myself of these foods were very difficult to adhere to.

Now that I am older and understand the importance of nutrition I try to indulge in a bacteria free diet.

So many foods today are processed and mixed with additives and preservatives, that a consumer is not certain that the products they are purchasing is germ free.

We are never certain who handles our food before we buy it at the grocery store. Therefore, it has become more prudent than ever to eat more refined and purified foods.

These were all the reasons why Granny persuaded me not to partake in junk food and stressed the importance of preparing home-made meals. She felt that when one dined at a restaurant they never know what germ or bacteria they are getting. The food may look divine, but the process might be deadly..

Today, I am an adult who has lived in America for many years and it has made me realize the “Jewishness” of my upbringing. From the “washouts” to remove impurities and the cerasee and rosewater baths to help maintain my healthy aura. I know realize my Granny’s connectedness to the Rastafarians or as I endearingly call them, the “Jewarians“.

Both religions are based on the purity of mind, body, soul and food, because they understand that ultimately the lack of being kosher affects a person’s health and spiritual well-being.

The lessons my Granny taught me has culminated into me being “Freshness Obsessed” with every aspect of my life. If any of my readers have visited the market lately, I am sure you can relate to why it is more important than ever to be fussy about the quality of products your family consumes.

So, I continue to thank the Messiah everyday for allowing me to grow up on the beautiful island of Jamaica with the Jewish influences that surrounded me.

If Granny was here she would lift her glass of grape juice and say L’Chaim!

Tags: Grand I talk about Childhood Infectious Diseases

Granny Told Me A Long Time Ago........."The Election of President Barack Obama"

Margaret Bailey — Thu, 01 Jan 2009 03:00:00 UT

Every November my family celebrates the passing of my Grandmother’s death. This year was exceptional my Grandmother would have celebrated her 100^th Birthday and it all happened on the eve of the 44^th election. As my family was preparing to make their sojourn I could feel Granny’s excitement. She was overjoyed about the elections, excited that she would be having visitors and very certain that Barack Obama would be President in 2009.

I remember shortly after my Granny’s death, she had appeared to me in a vision and told me that there would be a great reconciler of the world coming. That person would have mass appeal to all people, however there will be some that will try to instigate civil war. At the time I didn’t really put much energy into the prediction. I felt it could be possible, but there were no visible signs of change.

Therefore, when talks of the 2008 Elections came about and the candidates presented themselves, I knew that it was pre-ordained for Barack Obama to win the Election.

During the Election Granny would whisper in my ear, doesn’t he resemble my son?

I would whisper back “Which one Granny?”

“Your adopted father.”

I would take a good look., then respond, “Yeah, there is a slight resemblance.”

I have often spoken about the Dead Granny’s Society and the power they wield. Therefore, as Barack Obama made his final rounds during the elections and word of his own Grandmother’s passing circulated , I knew that was her way of sealing his fate. At that moment there was no doubt in my mind that he would not win the 2008 Election. The love of a grandparent has no boundaries.

In Jamaica it was as if my Granny was hosting her own posthumous campaign connection. Everyone was cheering and selling Obama items in the streets and at local resorts. Although I was thousands of miles away, I could feel the excitement and jubilation of a prophecy fulfilled.

My grandmother did not live to experience this momentous occasion in history, however she wants President Barack Obama to know that he has a long arduous road ahead of him, but to keep God first, family second and to always remember that he has a network of Grannies behind him.

Tags: Granny Told Me A Log time Ago.........

Granny’s Sister Has A “MeltDown”

Margaret Bailey — Sun, 30 Nov 2008 22:09:39 UT

Granny had three sisters and each one had a strong personality, not one of them was easy lead a stray by anyone’s tom-foolery or shenanigans. However, when Granny’s Sister Emma found out one of her sons was marrying an older woman, who did not come from his same heritage. She alerted the family council and then decided to have a “meltdown”.

She called Granny all the way from America to let her know of the current undertakings. She urged Granny to pray for her straight away and to keep the family in her prayers until she was able to get a plane to Jamaica.
I noticed that my Grandmother seemed a bit preoccupied and somber, so I inquired as to what matter she had simmering on her brain. She replied.

Mags, I am afraid such matters you may not understand……..

I persisted, “Why Granny?”

“Well, for one thing, you’re too young.”

“That’s ridiculous, Granny, try me?”

“Alright then, It’s you’re Grand-Aunt Emma, her youngest son is marrying a woman twice his age. Apparently. He has just graduated High School and she was married once before. Your Grand Auntie is “up in arms” about the whole situation. She thinks her son is going to get corrupted.

I looked at Granny strangely.

“Well, Granny, what do you think?”

Granny hesitated, “My father used to always say that if a man marries a woman older than himself, a day will come when he uses her age to upset her. It’s like letting a man have an upper hand .”

“Today times have changed, women take care of themselves, and they defy their ages so it is really up to the individual woman. Mags, I would say, it takes a special type of woman to deal with these circumstances.
An older woman and younger man is an unorthodox relationship and it requires a tremendous amount of compromise on both parts.”

Granny was visibly upset by the conversation., I guess because her sister had been very distraught that her son whom she had extremely high hopes for and extraordinary plans, had dashed them all away by making his grandiose announcement to wed someone that she was not prepared for.

I tried to comfort Granny by reminding her that perhaps it was just a passing impulse that would not come to fruition, so her and Auntie Emma need not worry at all.

Granny yammered on, “It’s not just the fact that she is older, but Emma is also upset that the woman does not come from our heritage, how is she going to raise his children? What type of values is she going to pass on to them? Will she be able to tell them about our heritage and Ancestry? Lord have mercy! It will be the end of Momma and Poppa’s legacy……My poor sister Emma. Mags ,Granny can’t talk right now.

I have to go and lie down for a minute.”

This was startling for me, I hadn’t seen my Granny this upset since my Kindergarten Teacher talked too sternly to me. At this age I never understood why the family was so diligent about about heritage and legacy, but now that I am an adult I realize how important it is to preserve the memory of our ancestors and what they stood for.

The morals and memory of My Great Grand Parents still meant everything to my Grandmother and even though she may have disappointed them in her lifetime, she did not want another generation to do the same.

Therefore I guess it was accurate to say that the events that were happening with Aunt Emmas family affected Granny in a very personal way.

Several weeks later Auntie Emma presented herself in Jamaica looking a bit drawn but as ravishing as ever
in her deluxe sundresses and her broad rimmed Riviera sunhats. She tried to convince everyone that her son’s intended was robbing the cradle.

She showed up at my Granny’s house one afternoon frantically knocking on the gate…..

“V! V! V!”

She carried on, “That woman is going to marry my son and move to some God forsaken place and I will never see my grand children. They will never come to Jamaica, they will never even know that Jamaica exists on the map.. They won’t even know about Peadro. Lord Jesus! Momma and Poppa are turning in their grave.

Granny reminded her, “Emma they won’t have to come to Jamaica, you are now living in America.”

“I know, but I want them to come to Jamaica for the Summers. They have to know about mangoes, naseberries, june plum and aetioti apples. All the nice stuff we had when growing up. I want them to have exposure to Jamaican patois and culture.”

“V, do you remember when Whitty was smitten with that girl down by the river and he made a big announcement to everyone that he was going to marry her? Do you remember what the family did?

My grandmother went into heavy concentration……..

“I don’t recall.”

Auntie Emma continued, “I remember. Auntie Allie and the rest of the family sent him to Ireland for some rest and relaxation. Ten years of rest and relaxation. You think my son might like Ireland this time of year?

Granny gave her an impossible look, “Let’s be realistic, he’ll get suspicious if you suddenly offer him a trip to Ireland.”
While my Granny and my Grand Aunt continued to find a solution to the family crisis. Her son had other plans. He eloped and got married, eliminating all the controversy.

The marriage lasted longer than most unions today and produced children that are aware of their dual heritage. So for the naysayers, who may think that the older woman and younger man cannot last, I can only say, it all depends on the individuals involved. I am sure my Granny would say Amen to that!!!!

A Granny's Remorse: Granny Ghetta & Me

Margaret Bailey — Sat, 01 Nov 2008 06:00:00 UT

When parents divorce children suffer the most, however some of the most inconspicuous casualties are the grandparents. Many times they are forced to take sides, and some are often not permitted to see the children. Some grandparents may harbor resentment because of the ill feelings dredged up by the separation and those feelings are often times associated with the children therefore they tend to sever all ties.

Whatever the reasons were, My Granny Gheeta and I didn’t see much of each other when I was growing up except when she performed her covert missions of trying to see me at the grocery stores or when going to school with my Nanny.

Lately, I have sensed a deeper connection with my Granny Gheeta than I can explain. I guess when one dies they have so much time to reflect, that they ponder about the people they didn’t have a chance to make things right with.

The other day Granny Gheeta visited in the form of a Halogram, she was more beautiful than ever. I was going into my car and I saw these rays of Indian colors, they were like rainbows, purple, pink, red and rays of diamond and gold. It was if she was sitting on a cloud of air. She was dressed like an Imperial Indian Princess with yards and yards of material and her hair was long and flowing. At first, I didn’t recognize the vision of loveliness. I had been driving for a while when I was distracted by extremely long strands of hair. The more I pulled the hair, the more they seemed to keep appearing. Then I looked into my rear view mirror and there she was, Gheeta Mittani, in her splendid Glory.

“I go today with you everywhere!”

I shook my head because I thought that maybe I was tired or hallucinating, but that was not the situation. Granny Gheeta was present and taking up all of my back seat like a bride.

I answered, “Ok. Granny Gheeta , but shouldn’t you be resting someplace?”

“No, I go with you today everywhere, ok Pria?”

I turned on the radio, she began miserably, “Too much western music, what ever happened to songs like “Nanny plant piece of corn by the gully….or sitar music…you no like dat music? “

“That music is fine Granny Gheeta, I will find sitar music when I have the time, okay. Right now I’m on a mission. Sssssh.”

“Okay, I’ll be quiet, but, you need plenty of material darling, you need to wear plenty of beautiful color and material, and what about the bindi?”

I made no comment.

She remained quiet and dormant until I was able to go to work to accomplish my day.

Upon driving home, she returned, pointing out to me…”Where’s your essence, “Mysore, Ylang-Ylang, Gardenia, Indian Women must have an aroma like gardens all the time. “

Then she started with the sniffing.

“I don’t smell no curry……Have you been eating your spices sweetheart? Remember spices are verry good for you, good for your circulation.”

“I know you surprise that Granny Gheeta just appear like dat, but Granny have to remind you about your Indian heritage. “

Then like magic as I was unloading my vehicle, two Bollywood male actors seem to pass by. Granny Gheeta winked at me, don’t you think they’re handsome?

I remarked dryly, “They’re alright, what’s your point?”

“Dere is no point dear, Granny is just conducting her research.

I turned to her, “Well, are you coming in?”

“No, I have preparations to make, things to do. I must go now ……another time.”

Just like that she left, with strands of hair behind. It took me several days to eliminate the reminders my Granny had left behind. That was my confirmation it wasn’t a dream.

The days following , everything I did screamed my Indian Heritage. If I turned on the television, everyone seemed to be wearing bindis on their heads. If I watched the cooking channel they were cooking roti or an Indian meal. I just couldn’t seem to escape the message that Granny Gheeta delivered personally.

My Granny’s appearance was just to remind me that on whatever path I take that I am not alone and that remembering my heritage will set me apart from the rest of the competition.

Tags: Granny Gheeta

Granny's Irish Legacy: Wills 'N' Such

Margaret Bailey — Wed, 01 Oct 2008 17:02:52 UT

It is true what they say, the Irish tend to respect a good wake and they always remember their dearly departed.

For as long as I can recall, everyday that the sun shone on earth, my Granny talked about her parents. Eventhough many years had passed, Granny was still sad and lonesome about her parents dying. Bertha Angelina and Georgie, which became affectionately known to me as Great Granny Bertha and Poppa Georgie were the light of my Granny‘s life.

Although I never knew my Great Grand Parents, after hearing many stories and viewing tons of pictures, I have been able to fill in the blank pages of history.

Granny and I would stroll in her garden as she would try to recount the accurate details of life with her mother and father. Ms. Bertha was always the Lady of the manor, while Sir Georgie spent his days with his four brothers negotiating on how to build a small metropolis within a country community. The way Granny talked about Poppa Georgie, I always got this picture of my Great-Grandfather as this very Irish man, with a ruddy complexion and pale white hair, He seemed to be a good negotiator and he liked to gad around town with his brothers, working hard, but also having a good time. Poppie Georgie never made a move without his brothers being by his side.

My Grandmother prided herself on being a Mama’s girl, but she loved the fact that her father was dedicated to his children and their future. He wanted his girls to marry well, he gave them all the resources and exposure to the refined culture they needed, in order to accomplish the task of having a good life.

Therefore, it was quite a painful experience for her and them when she married outside of their caste system, thus severing sentimental ties with them.

After my Grandmother married, the relationship with her parents became quite strained. They kept in touch, and on occasion my Great Granny Bertha would visit, but their relationship was lacking the closeness of her childhood.

When her mother became stricken with leukemia, Granny became very withdrawn and upset, it was as if her connection to the Old world was slowly diminishing. Her father was getting old, his health was failing and her mother’s life was dwindling away.

Granny found a new reality in the demise of her parents. Her entire life she never became absorbed in the lifestyle that her parents had created for her and her siblings. Granny V married at an early age, and left all the comforts and luxuries of home behind, yet, I think she felt secure knowing that they were always around. Although they were not happy with her choice of a life partner, as the old saying goes, “The Irish always take care of their own”. So, Granny felt secure having them around despite the lack of unconditional love.

Once my Granny’s parents had died, she mourned their loss and never once thought about her inheritance. She had been so focused on her religious life and raising her own children that she never gave much thought to the mini-empire my Great Grandfather and Great Grandmother had left behind.

There were schools, churches, gas stations, houses and acres of land that should have been divided among their six children. However, since my Grandmother did not express an interest in the division of the assets , the boys took the reign and controlled all their holdings.

My Grandmother’s two sisters had married well, and as the youngest, I don’t think Granny ever gave much thought to Financial matters. Her parents took care of her, she married a man that made her want for nothing, in Granny’s mind that was all one could ask for.

As Granny got older and she continued to miss and mourn her parents daily, it began to gnaw at her, that her parents had not left her anything to memorialize her heritage and the life they shared.

Her mother had made sure to give her pieces of jewelry from her estate on her visits to Kingston, she wanted her youngest to have possessions to remind her of their mother-daughter relationship.

Granny was never a materialistic person, however, I gathered that after all the years that passed, it bothered her, that she was not remembered by her parents in their Will. It was as if she was being punished for marrying against their desires. My Grandmother was forced to choose between her heart and her legacy.

This life experience made Granny determined that none of her children or grandchildren would ever get excommunicated from their Birthright. Granny taught us to fight for what is rightfully ours, “Never take more or less! Get what you know you rightfully deserve!”

I always admired the fact that my Granny loved and idolized her parents till the day she died, despite their unforgiving stance with her, but there was a lesson to be learned from her stories.

Whether it is your parents, a brother, a sister or husband, people will only give you, what they think you deserve. If you are passive, they will look the other way and try to take your share and theirs, or worse, give it to a stranger who cannot appreciate the legacy and heritage..

Sometimes when a family member dies, the last thing that is on anyone’s mind is an inheritance. Partly because of grief, and partly because you have been living your life without the reality of its existence.

The legacy that my Granny left me, was to always fight for my Birthright and never let anyone try to “samfy” me from what is rightfully mine!

Granny always said, "Take what is yours graciously and save it for a rainy day."

Hence the term, “The Fighting Irish”.

Granny & I: "Those Two Girls!"

Margaret Bailey — Mon, 01 Sep 2008 02:25:00 UT

My Granny never believed in having “favorites” for grandchildren. She tried to love us all equally, however, due to life and circumstances, the grandchildren that rallied around her the most, ended up being the ones she talked about quite frequently.

The most talked about grand girls that Granny would tell anecdotes and stories about were myself and my cousin Annamaria. From the age of two, Anna Maria and I were inseparable, we were like Bobsey Twins. Since she was four years older than I, I thought she was the coolest person since kisko pop.

We dressed alike, we attended the same schools and we even enjoyed similar hobbies. Therefore, when Granny began her ranting and raving fest, Annamaria’s name was never mentioned without mine. We were like her twin terrors, except, we each had a different way about doing our shenanigans.

One day, as I was making my way to Granny’s school after music lessons, I overheard Granny talking to Mrs. Mordechai, her Seamstress, about her grandchildren….then she started on about Annamaria and Margaret.

Granny continued, “Those two girls are so similar, yet they are so different. Two sisters children, who are like bookends.”

Mrs. Mordechai looked at Granny and began shaking her head, “So tell me Sister B, how are they so similar, yet so different?”

“Well, for instance, the Annamaria will tell me, “ Granny, I am coming to spend some time with you, she will visit and by evening time, I have to run and take her back home. Meanwhile, the Margaret, will stay with Granny as long as you make her comfortable, she’s like my shadow.

Annamaria is very studious, all day long she’s studying for all kinds of subjects and the entire household has to be included. If she’s in a school play, the entire family has to be her sounding board. The Margaret, is very smart, however, I think she’s going for the “Queen of calm”. That child will have tons of studies and homework, and she will be as cool as a cucumber, and at the seventeeth hour, one, two three it’s all done. I don’t know how she does it, but she usually ends up coming First, Second or Third in her class.

Mrs. Mordechai started roaring with laughter, “One seems to be a type A personality while the other seems to have a “No Worries” mantra.”

Granny smiled, “The best part, is when the Annamaria plays tutor to the Margaret. It’s like the Professor and the Devil, each one, sends the other shrieking to drink glasses of water.”

Mrs. Mordechai sat their nodding and commenting how she often admired us when we came to visit. She began showing Granny pictures of her Grandkids and the stories went on. Granny didn’t know that I was tucked away behind the door listening to her tales about us.

Granny went over to her bureau drawer and began showing pictures of Annamaria and I . It seemed as if every picture she had of me, had a precocious story behind it.

“This picture was taken when the children and I went to Coconut Park, and we had to conduct a search for Margaret. You know where we found her? Admiring the chimpanzees. That child was always fascinated with animals, ever since I can remember. This other picture was taken, right after Margaret tried to wrestle a lizard. Can you imagine that, at four years old?”

Annamaria runs at the sight of a spider, usually Margaret will give the spider a roc ‘em and sock ‘em and everything is fine after that. The two of them, sometimes fight like cats and dogs, but if you ever say one bad thing about the other. Armageddon begins!”

Granny threw her hands in the air and shook her head.

Mrs. Mordechai listened intently, mulling over the pictures Granny showed her. “Boy, what a way those girls have grown big.”

Granny nodded, “Yes, my dear and it only gets more interesting. The other evening , Mr. Norman, a friend of my husband, called me in a haste. He said, “Mrs. B, you have to come down to Half Way Tree now!”

I asked him why. “He said, some boy, from Champion no call Annamaria “Whitey Pork” and Margaret “Red Gal” and the little Margaret stand up on the cement step and tell him off, and Annamaria was doing a good job cursing at his friends. Dem was getting on the bus, but the boy and his friends dem start to follow them. Mrs. B, Margaret fling every school book she have in her bag after dem and when that stave them off. The two of them hold hands and run cross the street into a record store.”

Granny’s voice became excited.

Mrs. Mordechai when I got down to Half Way Tree, Annamaria was still cursing and carrying on, while Margaret was ready to defend their honor. Telling me, “Granny, I was going to use some of my Judo moves, no one calls us names and gets away with it!”

That is how it has been with the two of them ever since I can remember. It is good , I guess, that they are polar opposites in somethings, because I never worry when the two are together. Margaret definitely has the “Fighting Irish” aura with her. Annamaria is the spokesperson, while Margaret, she’s like Sheena, the Princess Warrior. If she’s quiet, leave her alone, or God help you!

Mrs. Mordechai was fascinated with the story about us. She found it delightful that, even though we were so young, we practiced loyalty towards each other.

She commented, “Were those two girls raised in Jamaica?”

“Yes, but the Margaret, ever since she was little, one would think she came off an English Steamer. That child can be so rambunctious at times, and then another minute, you feel as if you are in the presence of Royalty. There are times when she is so prim, proper and grandiose. Annamaria just tries to live her life perfectly, except if you get her vexed. Then, that is when my two little “champumnannies” go to town!”

Mrs. Mordechai rocked back and forth in Granny’s chair. She began telling Granny how it was a blessing to have grandchildren because it made life interesting.

Granny said, “Praise God! My life is definitely interesting because of them. Over the years, I hear good stories and bad stories about them. You know what? They may be wretches, but they are my little wretches and I love them dearly, and that goes for all my Grandchildren!”

Well, needless to say, I got an earful. After feeling quite pained, from contorting myself to hear my Granny, I came away with a renewed sense of confidence. All these years my Granny knew us and them some.

Granny always said, eaves dropping was a nasty habit, but on this day, it was well worth holding the glass to the door to hear my Granny canvassing for our dispositions.

It was a wonderful feeling to know that my Granny loved Annamaria and I despite our shortcomings. She also embraced and encouraged our loyalty to protect each other at all times. A lesson that should be utilized by the younger generation today.

Eventhough we are not put on Earth to be our brothers, sisters or cousins keepers. Sometimes, it is necessary to ensure their honor and respect.

Granny's Thoughts on Family Politics

Margaret Bailey — Tue, 01 Jul 2008 03:52:41 UT

Most families whether Jamaican or otherwise all have their “wranglings” which they would rather keep buried under the kitchen table. Our family was no different and although Granny spent numerous hours studying her bible she was privy to all the family melodrama that simmered beneath the surface.

Granny was never one to talk ill of anyone or to perpetuate malice, however, she was a fair person and called an ace an ace each time something went awry.

One of Granny’s most interesting observations was that, many families experience drama because of outsiders or unsuitable marriage partners. Although, she was not a woman who discriminated against anyone, she had certain principles and thoughts on how “an addition” should be matriculated into the family.

My Grandmother often felt that an in-law should be part of the family, yet refrain from getting involved with “Family Politics”. Granny would comment that, sometimes family situations get blown out of proportion because marriage partners have their say or become too involved. Granny always felt it was best for family to handle their own battles, because fundamentally they understood each others dogmas and beliefs.

As they say in Jamaica, Most people will “buy-out” a conflict if it is happening in their family. Possessing the ability to remain impartial in the midst of a family crisis, is an art that not too many people have. Granny often commented that wives and husbands marrying into a family should be even tempered, accommodating and present if they were called upon for assistance. If there was a tense scenario happening within the family, they were to be observers but never getting involved.

Her thoughts were that too many cooks often escalated matters and made it worse. Granny would mention, “Too many differences in paradigms could throw the whole family dynamics off kilter.”

So, her advice to me was:

“Magsie, never get involved in family politics!”

“Don’t fry anybodie’s fat”, meaning, never fight any battle except your own. If relatives are close, they lack the fairness of seeing situations for how they truly are. They will ignore the facts and conspire with the person at the helm of the controversy.

Granny would urge me to be a good listener and never to get involved, especially in marital affairs.

She would say, “Ms. Mags, listen to their drama, but when it comes to voicing your opinion have very little to say, because when they are all luvey-dovey again, you will be the outcast.”

Granny continued to explain, “Most folks want everyone to think their life is a bed of roses, so after the bacanal, they alienate themselves from anything and anyone who had the slightest incling of their dilemmas.”

My Grandmother was a staunch believer of “Blood being thicker than water”.

She believed it was alright for a blood relative to say an unkind word about another, but if an outsider repeated an unkind word or phrase, that was not acceptable. Granny knew that each family had their own way of working out conflict, and should have the liberty to do so without the meddling antics of extended families or in-laws.

Granny’s words of wisdom to me in regards to “Family Politics”, whether my own family or a family I may inherit was to, “Always try to remain impartial, only give your opinion when solicited, and even then, be cautious. The words you may say, no matter how well meaning, may come back to haunt you.”

As an adult, I can attest to the fact that many families have been ruined by the gossiping family member, the “busy-body” wife or the husband who feels it is his mission to straighten everyone out. My Granny’s advice to these individuals would be, “Leave peoples’ family business alone! Let them work it out among themselves.”

Many times we see families going about their daily business, looking happy and content and we think, “Why can’t our family be like them?”

Just remember, they too are carrying the burden of “Family Politics” they just camouflage it a little better than everyone else.

Tags: Ganny and Family Politics

Granny and I

Wed, 04 Jun 2008 23:56:20 UT

Special Granny Story: Standing Up For What's Right, So Things Don't Go Wrong

Margaret Bailey — Sat, 31 May 2008 17:00:00 UT

As all my readers may know my Granny was a force to contend with. She didn’t take any nonsense from anyone, and raised her children and grandchildren to be solid citizens, encouraging them to always remain stalworth in their deeds and actions.

Granny would tell me stories of times when merchants tried to overcharge her for goods and services, how she would go to their Business establishment and camp out for several hours until they decided to treat her fairly. If the store owners were extremely unreasonable she would visit them for days on end until they had the good sense to acquiesce to her demands.

I spent so much time with my grandmother as a child that some of her personality traits could not help but be passed on to me. I recall a day when I went to the candy shoppe to purchase a ¼ lb. of paradise plums and the shop owner charged me an exorbitant price for the tiny pieces of candy. Even at the tender age of six years old, I knew they were taking advantage of me, especially since my Granny was not present. Perhaps, that is why she sent me to the shoppe next door to see how I would manage.

At first, I was confused when the shoppe owner told me it would be a few shillings. I was so excited about the candy that I almost paid him, and then somewhere in my mind, my Granny’s voice surfaced. “Now Magsie, go right back to Mr. Chin and tell him, No can do! Tell him that your Grandmother only pays a few tropences, and that’s all you are willing to pay, not a penny more!”

In my feeble six year old voice I said, “Mr. Chin, let me tell you something, Granny doesn’t pay a lot for this candy…..So how about a couple of pences?”

Mr. Chin responded, “Your Granny? Who’s your Granny?”

“You know the little old lady who patrols back and forth with her bible, don’t you remember? We were in here a few Sundays ago, I was wearing my pretty bonnet Granny had made for me.”

“Hmm……he ruffled his hair. Ohh….yeahh..yeahh..That’s your Granny? Mrs. B?”

“Yesiree…and she is not going to be happy if I have spent all of her shillings.”

“Alright little one, give me two pence and tell your Granny I said hello.”

“Thank you, I know Granny will be so happy about this. Bye!”

I hop-scotched out of that shoppe so fast, feeling exhilarated that I learned my first lesson in practicing autonomy.

Granny sat waiting on the veranda, a part of her expecting me to come back defeated, and another part of her secretly hoping I would return victorious.

She was ecstatic that I opted for the latter.

The stories that my Granny told me weren’t to brag and boast about her life or childhood. They were meant to inspire and teach morals and principles about life. Standing up for what you believe in whether others may think it’s mullarkey.

Granny told me stories about my Grandfather and how heroic he was. In times of great stress and turmoil in Jamaica. One of my ancestors, Alexander Butamante was called up on to be the leader of Jamaica, the masses wanted him to lead them out of poverty and political upheaval. Bustamante answered that call, but he knew he could not do it alone. So, he asked my Grandfather to be his driver. He knew it was a perilous task, but if anyone could pull it off my Grandad could.

As Bustamante lead the troops of people across the Jamaican terrain to regain their land and civil liberties that they were entitled to, my Grandfather drove him through road blocks, police barricades and criminal minded gun-men. His number one goal was to protect himself, Bustamante and the important documents that he needed, transported to the House of Parliament. Granddad did not stop for anything or anyone, and because of his heroic attempts, he helped to create a piece of Jamaican history.

My descendant, Bustamante went on to govern Jamaica through their Independence.

Granny told me these stories to instill in me that I come from Great Men. Part of that greatness means that one has to lead by example and to question the social mores that we believe that are injustices.

My Grandmother never wanted any of her children to accept any inferior treatment imposed by society. She always felt that what was good for the goose was good for the gander. So many times in society people will extend the Royal Treatment to one set of people and treat others as "no counts". Granny wanted me to understand that I should never accept less than I rightfully deserve.

Growing up, I sometimes felt I was a rebel without a cause. As I grew older I realized that my idealistic energies are really stemmed from having genes that will not stand for “wrong” whether innocent or otherwise.

From the early years Granny itaught me, “Ghost know who to frighten, if people think you are an easy step-over, they will try anything. It is up to you, to put them in their place.”

While telling me this story Granny went to her bureau and adorned me with a bracelet with a coin of Bustamante’s likeness on it. She told me never to forget my heritage and never ever to let anyone bully me into their way of thinking. For her, it was important for me to understand that the greatness of Bustamante and my Grandfather meant something, it was part of my ancestral fabric.

Granny also went on to say, “You know Mags, people always complain about their children are wayward, Politicians are corrupt, the system let’s them down. Yet they never do anything about it. If your children are bad, then you as a parent have to reorganize your life. My husband, God rest his soul, when the boys were young and started to cut school, you know what your Grandfather did?”

I looked at Granny quizzically…..”I don’t know.”

“Your Grandfather, used to put the boys in his car, along with their school books and drive them everywhere he went. While he was driving ,they had to study.”

“Why did Grandpa do that? Granny, they probably gave him a hard time and made him zany…eh?”

“Give who a hard time……? You obviously don’t remember your Grandfather very well, he carried those boys around with him because he did not want them to end up on drugs or on death row. Your Grandfather vowed that he would rather go to the gallows than have any of his children turn out to be vagabonds. He had a bamboo cane he used to carry called John-scatter-ca-ca, those boys just looked at it and fell in line.”

“Isn’t that kind of harsh Granny?”

“No, he knew how hoity-toity and prejudice Momma and Poppa were, so he was not going to give them the satisfaction of thinking that their daughter would be barefoot and pregnant, with the Taxi Man children smoking from chillum pipes.”

“Granny, Poppa G was a very no-nonsense man, however, I don’t think that he believed you and Grandpa would raise vagrants.”

“Oh yeah, My parents weren’t easy people you know. He was very Irish and set in his ways.”

“This is why I am trying to instill in you children to be the persons who you were meant to be, do not let the world turn your lives into a circus. You children come from strong characters, who believe in principles.”

I must admit, that these talks about strength and fortitude seemed inconsequential to me at the time , however, I must let you all know that recently I have felt like a Lady Bustamante forging ahead during rough circumstances in New York.

I have experienced situations first hand where the streets have been blocked off for no apparent reason. Traffic has been backed up for several hours, and there is a sense of danger that looms. Call it intuition, but I do believe there is something rotten in Denmark.

Coming from a third world country, where we are no strangers to road blocks and curfews, I know how these procedures are supposed to be conducted and the proper protocols have not been carried out.

I can only assimilate my experience to that of one who lives in a war-torn territory. Except I believe the war maybe on Drugs.

I have chosen to write this special Granny story to reach out to all the citizens who truly believe that they can make a difference, to take a stand and say no to the invisible slavery that exists in America and around the world. We seem to live normal lives, yet Big Brother is always watching, our civil liberties and rights are dangling on a thin thread. At any time, the wrong leadership could take those freedoms we enjoy, away.

Bustamante is no longer here to march with us across the terrain. Martin Luther can no longer fight the battles for injustices against minorities and Malcolm X has gone and left his legacy behind.

All the people of our nation need to stand up for what is right and say no to the things that are genuinely wrong in our society.

My Granny’s teachings showed me that one person can make a difference but it helps when you have a motorcade behind you.

My Granny would always say, “Standing up for rights aren’t always easy. People will try to intimidate you. There will be times when you are quaking in your shoes, but nevertheless, you forge ahead like a steamship. Eventually, you will melt the ice.”

I do believe collectively, we do not have to always call on the Government to fight our battles. I think as people who share the same common goal, we can achieve the power to raise good kids, to deter Drug Dealers from taking residence in our neighborhoods and to stop social injustices.

The time has come for us to put idle banter on the back burner and pursue the real issues in our Society before it is too late.

Granny always said, “God gives everybody a garden to tend to, but sometimes they are so busy fasting in other peoples’ garden, that they don’t even realize weeds are growing in theirs.”

When voting in this election, remember the weeds in your garden. They need to be plucked out, so that the beautiful flowers can grow.

In memory of Alexander Bustamante

Reading With Granny

Margaret Bailey — Mon, 28 Apr 2008 17:00:00 UT

How many people can remember the first time they learned to read?

I remember it, as if it were yesterday. In Jamaica, most parents felt that reading was the gateway to achieving your goals and dreams. If you think about it, every subject in school is based on reading and comprehension.

A student who aces reading is usually guaranteed good grades in other subjects. Reading gives one the ability to understand information and apply it as needed. Once you are able to read and memorize data, the rest of your academics should be simple.

My Granny understood the importance of reading. Since I spent most of my formative years around my Grandmother, it was natural that the first book I learned to read was the Bible.

Granny would read a verse and then let me try to read with her also. For a two year old it was sheer torture. You had to be still, and could not dodge the task until every syllable was properly formed and spelled.

Although my Teachers in school had given me the fundamentals, it was always the way of The Jamaican parent or Caretaker to take reading abilities to the next level.

Granny always gave me books for presents that included religious stories from the bible. At an early age I was fascinated with “Noah’s Ark, The Prodigal Son and The Good Samaritan“, just to name a few.

These books have left an indellible mark on my mind because not only did they teach me to read, but they left me with values about life.

I can still recall my first reading session with Granny.

“Come here Ms. Mags. Bring the Bible.”

“But Granny……I have these books from school that I have to read.”

“Well, let’s read a few verses from the Bible and then we’ll tackle the rest.”

Reluctantly, I grabbed my little bible and sat with Granny and her humongous Bible.

Granny would summon.

“No, stand before me and then try to read after me.”

We started on Genesis, “I-n t-h-e b-e-g-n……”

“Go on Mags, enunciate your words, “beginning” that’s it!”

Granny sat there dinning each word into my tiny head. After hours of struggling with the Bible, Granny would acquiesce and tell me to bring my school books.

Her method of reading included no distractions. You weren’t allowed to watch television, listen to the radio or have a snack until you had satisfied her reading criterior.

Most of the time I would fidget because I wasn’t sure if I’d hit the reading jackpot, and if I hadn’t, it would mean several more hours staring at Granny blankly.

I was always glad for the few minutes of recess that she gave me to retrieve my school books. I was often excited by them because they were so colorful and expressive.

Granny would comment.

“I don’t know what kind of foolishness they are letting you read in school. What is this….?”

I would start pointing to the book, and begin explaining.

“R-u-n! S-p-o-t, R-u-n! Granny look at Spot! Isn’t he a nice doggie?”

“That’s what they are giving you children to read?”

“Uh-huh, fun huh?”

Granny would reply dryly.

“Fun indeed, this is Romper Room foolishness. Where is the moral of the story?”

I would shrug in astonishment, after all I was still a toddler and my Granny was ranting about things I barely understood. I would smile and contort myself like a pretzel until she simmered down.

I would distract her by saying, “Granny this next book, you will like it. It’s about rain.”

“Rain? Somebody can write a book about rain and expect kindergartners to read it?”

“Look Granny! I can read it very well.”

“P-i-t-te-r, p-a-t-t-e-r we-n-t the tiny drops in t-h-e puddle. The y-e-l-l-o-w u-m-brella was w-et.”

“This is fun Granny, c’mon let’s read some more!”

“I’m glad you are enjoying yourself, but these simple simon books are only going to dumb you up. The Bible will give you all the vocabulary you need.”

Granny was big on reading books and articles that were of substance. In a way, she was glad that I was enthusiastic about my reading, but she was also concerned that the Teachers were giving us doty subjects to read about. Granny felt the pitter patter of rain could be experienced in life and if we went outside we could see the rain and watch Spot run. It was not Rocket Science material.

It was then I realized the grueling demands that Jamaican parents placed on their kids to succeed. My Grandmother felt that if you were old enough to start school at two years of age, then it should be worth your while.

In every reading session we had, she managed to throw in bits and pieces of good humour. Although, at the time I did not think it was very funny. However, years have a way of shedding light on the most embarrassing moments.

After each session Granny would ask me to spell a few words like my name……

I would spell it M-a-r-g-a-r-e-t-t-e, and then secretly wish in my mind, “Why did I have such a long name?”

Granny questioned, “H-mmm, The Margarettie, is that a ship? A place? Because I am not familiar with it.”

Your name is “Margaret”. The T with the tie can say bye, bye.”

Oddly enough, I never misspelled my name after that day. The best joke she made with my spelling was the time I spelt Tomorrow with two m’s.

Granny said, “Who is Tom Morrow? Do you know him? Because I don’t. Kindly take the M away and tell Mr. Morrow to come back another day.”

Once again, I never misspelt the word tomorrow, after her explanation. Granny was a tough cookie when it came to lessons. But her unusual tactics eventually lead me to becoming a Spelling Bee Champion.

My fascination for words have grown immensely from the days of Granny’s stalworth recitations and stern directions.

Perhaps if she had not been so diligent I would have worn the Dunce cap everyday in school.

So Granny, if you are listening, “You are, and will always be supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!”

Love M-a-r-g-a-r-e-t.

My Granny's Lamentation: Grandparents Aren't Supposed To Outlive Grandchildren

Margaret Bailey — Mon, 31 Mar 2008 17:00:00 UT

There were not too many life events that could have left my Grandmother stricken with grief, however, when my cousin Junior died, not even God could have consoled my Granny adequately. My Grandmother did not have favorites when it came to her grandchildren, but she loved each one with a special love according to their level of mischievousness.

Junior had the market cornered whenever it came to being mischievous. He always managed to make Granny laugh, even when she was in the most cantankerous of moods. Granny had a special place for him in her heart. He was very protective and extraordinarily caring towards her and Grandpa. Often times reminding her, “Granny don’t forget to put the padlock on the gate” or “Granny don’t come home too late from church, too many “koo-koo” people out there!”

Little did Granny or anyone know, that his fragile life would have been snuffed away by a drunk, careless driver. It was the beginning of a new school year, It was Junior’s first year as a High School student. He had saved up all Summer to buy a ten speed bike and had finally attained his goal of purchasing one. Although, my Granny was terribly against the idea, Junior made light of the situation and insisted that she needn’t worry, because he was a “boss” acrobat. He would say, “Granny, it’s cool runnings, no need to worry, remember I’m your rough and tough, judo loving grandson.”

A few days after Junior had won the family debate, and purchased his bike, he was struck down by an enebreated driver. He died instantly, the bike that he had so diligently saved for, had become the instrument that lead him to his death.

My Granny recalled the tragic day, as if her life would never be the same. I was about six years old at the time , but I remembered the details as if it were yesterday. After all, Junior was like a brother to me. Granny and I sat talking in the parlor one day with remorse and a need for understanding.

“Granny, do you remember the day Junior died?”

“Of course, you know Mags, that day I didn’t feel right at all, I just felt a heaviness and sadness come over me. I just couldn’t explain it. When his mother call and tell me the news, I was shocked it was him, but I was expecting some gloomy news.”

“Granny I was in time-out that afternoon, but I remember when he called out to everyone, “Soon come back!” That was the last time we saw him alive. I prayed all the way to the morgue. We even had a game in school that taught us to cross our fingers and wish. It was supposed to make everything better ; I crossed my fingers and my toes all the way. Hoping it would save him, but all my efforts were futile.”

“Yes, Magsie, I know……I couldn’t help but notice the very confused look on your countenance. I kept asking the Undertakers not to cover him up,,,,,I had faith that he would come back to life. A resurrection like Lazarus. Only God knows why he didn’t spare his life, perhaps he saw that the road was rugged?”

Granny reflected with sadness and grief, even after all these years I had never seen my Grandmother so shaken up or emotive about any other happening. Maybe it was because he was only fourteen years old and had such promise. I had lost my sparring buddy and Granny had lost a grandchild.

It was the first time that I ever heard my Granny question the Almighty’s decision. Granny lacked religious words of comfort, because she was trying to comprehend the turn of events.

She lamented, “Grandchildren are supposed to outlive their grandparents. I have to believe that only the good die young. He was an angel.”

I nodded in agreement with my Granny, because even at six years old, I felt I had lost my alter ego. I was a tom-boy growing up, and Junior and I shared all sorts of sporting activities. We practiced judo together and he would show me how to be “rough and rugged”. We had the “code of the cool“, for a six year old that meant everything.

For the first time in my life, I experienced my Grandmother feeling helpless. The only strength she found was praying to God, asking him to spare the roads from drunk and distracted drivers. She prayed that Law Enforcement would deter these careless drivers from taking anymore lives.

When someone so young dies tragically, everyone cries for retribution, however, the fact of the matter is, revenge does not bring the person back. Our family suffered a tragic loss the day Junior died, but we knew that orchestrating a witch hunt would not quench our sorrow.

However, his death taught us that God shows us wisdom even in tragedy. My Grandmother lost a grandchild, but in the midst of her grief she managed to envision God’s plan for Junior to experience a life in eternal bliss. These thoughts comforted her until her dying day.

I know wherever Granny is, she is jubilant, because she has been reunited with her beloved Junior.

In Loving Memory of MJM.

Granny "Gheeta Mittani": You Can't Hide From Your Culture

Margaret Bailey — Wed, 27 Feb 2008 17:00:00 UT

*A Special Granny Story

When I was born, my parents told me I came into the world with a red bindi on my forehead. It seemed like a nice tale at the time, however it was not until I was an adult that I truly understood the omen of my birth.

I have been fortunate to have been born into a Jamaican family that was mixed with many different cultures.

I have often written about my maternal grandmother Granny V, but in my formative years, I also spent a great deal of time with my Indian Granny, “Gheeta Mittani”.

Gheeta Mittani was as strict as any nun, she spent most of her days taking care of her grandchildren and making her own bread and roti in the kitchen. Whenever my parents had pressing engagements to attend to, Granny Gheeta’s house was my refuge. I was not fond of going to her house because she was unusually strict, it was like attending school seven days of the week.

Most of all, I thought she was quite weird, she would make us sit in lotus style on the living room carpet and read stories. Sometimes she would just create a classroom atmosphere where all her grandchildren would have to partake in a “school’s challenge”. Quizzes, that were designed to exhaust the mind.

The reasons why I thought her most weird was because she wore several yards of material all the time. She constantly fiddled with her long waist length hair and she had an affinity for curry that I found a bit strange eventhough I was only two years old. As a young child, I did not know that this was my Granny Gheeta’s way of exposing me to my culture.

Some of the excursions we took included regular trips to the local jewelry store. Granny Gheeta could spend hours in a jewelry store, Insisting, "Nothing but the finest 24 karat jewelry would do for my grandchildren."

She taught me about Indian gold, sapphires, rubies and diamonds. Commenting, "You shall have rings on your fingers, bells on your toes, making music wherever you go."

During my early childhood days, Granny Gheeta was often heard urging my mother to pierce my ears. Granny Gheeta’s truest joys were to see her grandchildren adorned in jewelry and finery. At first, I thought the yards of materials she wore , were her feeble attempt at designing make-shift gowns. It wasn’t until I got older I realized they were saris, part of her heritage. I must admit it was quite embarrassing at times, since I would be the only child in kindergarten with a grandmother who paraded in a sari from dawn till dusk.

After my parents were divorced, I did not see much of Granny Gheeta, but now that I am older, I realize that she was always around. Growing up, most of my dearest friends were Indian or of Indian descent. My inclination to study paranormal activities are traits that have been passed down to me from my Indian Granny.

My obsession with becoming a Guru, through reading palms, tarot cards and meditation are traits that have been associated with the Indian culture.

There were times in my youth that I spent hours wrapping myself in cloth and painting red and yellow dots on my forehead with cutex, that made everyone chuckle with insane laughter. I didn't know it then, but it was my way of feeling connected to the culture. Like the old Jamaican saying, "You can run, but you can't hide."

This was definitely true in my case, the days Granny Gheeta and I spent together in the kitchen making dal poori, channa, roti and curry and masala sauces have not gone to waste. During my childhood, and as an adult I too have an affinity for curry like Granny Gheeta.

Although my biological parents were not together anymore, Granny G devised clever ways of trying to see me. Once, she showed up at the Market where my Nanny and I were shopping, just so she could get a glimpse of me. I had not seen her in a few years, but I knew it was her, Who else would be parading in a sari in a Jamaican grocery store?

At every turn I made, like the Pink Panther she peered out from the fruits and groceries to get a good look at me. I would yell at my Nanny, “Look ,it’s Granny Gheeta!”

She would grab me by the hand and whisk me away.

Many years passed until I saw her again. When I was in my early twenties, I had the good fortune of spending a weekend with Granny, where she taught me how to wear a sari, how to make mango laasie and how to act like a true Jindian.

I still remember her saying, “My, how you have grown, If I saw you in public, I wouldn’t recognize you, where’s your bindi?”

I answered simply, “I outgrew it Granny G”.

She woud respond, “You no outgrow your bindi, you hide from your bindi. Too much western world. Overexposure!”

My relationship with my Granny Gheeta was most unusual. Not so much on the earth plane, but on a spiritual level. Throughout my entire life, she surrounded me with my Indian heritage. She magnetized people and circumstances that would expose me to my heritage, while revealing facts about herself. I must admit, that most of my life I had absorbed the European-Jamaican culture of my biological mother’s family, therefore, it made me a tad ambivalent to embrace the other side of my heritage.

My Granny Gheeta came from a noble heritage of Dignitaries and Politicians, and made sure that I was exposed to the most prestigious Indian families living in Jamaica. During childhood, I frequented the Officer’s Club with my biological father, while he attended to army business, I played in the sandbox with Dignitaries' children, young shieks, princes and princesses, all from Indian countries. Back then, it really didn’t mean anything to me. But now that I am an adult and my Granny “Gheeta Mittani” has passed on, I realize that she was right beside me all the time. Reminding me to live like the Indian Princess that I was born to be. Eternally chanting, “Pria, baby! Remember the bindi.”

Never Too Old For Granny

Margaret Bailey — Thu, 31 Jan 2008 17:00:00 UT

All over the world, one word that is more universal than love is Granny or Grandmother.

Although, Jamaican Grandmothers are notorious for being involved in their Grandchildrens’ lives beyond the call of duty.

My Granny was no exception to the rule, she was always filled with advice and seemed to have a natural ability to decipher what you were feeling or thinking. Whenever I felt ambivalent about confiding in anyone, my Granny was always my choice for a conversationalist because she never judged. She always listened with an attentive ear and then gave you one of her old fashioned sayings, like ”What would God do in a similar situation?”

Simple, but very thought provoking. I remember going through a teenage phase where I wanted to get a tatoo. After wearing the artificial ones, it just seemed like a natural progression for me to undertake getting a real one. I must admit, that I never really thought about the painful process of receiving a tatoo, instead I thought of the end result, which would have been the glorious picture of a rose.

Most teenagers shy way from sharing this type of information with their parents for fear of being scolded or reprimanded. Therefore, the only person I felt comfortable discussing this matter with, was my Granny.

I called her up one day and said, “Granny, I’m thinking about getting a tatoo.”

She commented, “What’s that?”

I laughed for a second, “Granny, you don’t know what a tatoo is?”

“No, Magsie, what is it?”

“Granny a tatoo is a pretty picture that you wear on your body.”

“Oh, that’s sounds nice, is it like a t-shirt?”

I started becoming a bit nervous about telling her the details, “Well, it’s actually engrained in your skin, with die and stuff.”

“Stuff, eh?” Granny commented.

“What about those pictures you always paste on your arm, that’s nice. Why not keep doing that?”

I didn’t know if I should have continued my conversation with her because it didn’t seem to be going very well.

“Granny, this won’t wash off as easily and its sort of a fashion statement.”

Granny laughed, “Is fashion did kill Ms. Marple’s puss. Just remember that.”

I had a puzzled look on my face, “Granny…..Who is Ms. Marple?”

“Oh this lady in Jamaica, her cat went chasing after her lovely felt hat down the road, and got run over by the push cart man. Tsk..tsk..tsk…It was such a sad story. Poor Ms. Marple never recovered.”

Great, now my Granny had managed to really escalate the situation to a dangerous undertaking.

Granny urged me, “If I were you Mags I would get all the information I can find about this tatoo situation and then make a decision. I‘m glad you told me about this. You know Mags, you are never too old to confide in Granny.”

Her idea made sense. So. I scampered off to the nearest library to read all the facts I could find. After indulging myself in several books, I became a tad apprehensive about my thoughts of getting a tattoo. It involved needles, dye, and if the place was not reputable or clean. It meant the possibility of a disease. Yikes!!!

Again Granny was trying to show me the right path. However, most teenagers are usually overcome by their own impressions of the world. The beauty of having a tatoo seemed more alluring than making a good, sound judgement.

I looked for a reputable place to get my tatoo done and then called my Granny and told her. I said, “Guess what Granny?”

“Is this about the tatoo ?” she replied.

“Sort of. A-c-t-u-a-l-l-y, I’m going to get it done tomorrow.”

“Hmmm…..as soon as tomorrow. You know Mags, I have been doing some reading, that tatoo thing is not as easy as it seems. They use HUGE needles, the needle could be dirty, you could get an infection or you could even have an allergic reaction to the dye. Am I making sense here?”

“Yes granny, everything you are saying make sense, but that is in extreme cases and I have been very thorough with my research.”

“Sure you have, so where is this place and what is it called?”

“Granny, I don’t think you know where this place is, it is called the Gaallawallah Tatoo Shoppe, it’s in the mall somewhere.”

“Very Lovely Mags. Let me know how it goes. Just remember if you ever saw God wearing a tatoo.” Granny ended the phonecall.

Her sense of calm, mixed with guilt, made me more anxious and suspicious. I started wondering if I was about to make the right choice, but I felt it was too late for me to withdraw from my plans.

During the teenage years, children are unaware of fear, they always think that they can outsmart events and that negative things cannot happen to them.

On Tatoo Day, I was as nervous as a butterfly. The only person who knew about my endeavor was my Granny. When it came to secrets my Granny was like the FBI. I tried calling her that morning for Good Luck, but it seemed as if she had gone off on a mission somewhere.

I got to the Tatoo parlour and sat down waiting patiently for my turn. While there, I saw other teenage girls getting their tatoos, grimacing and shrieking with pain. One girl, came in and commented that her hand was sore even after two weeks of getting her tatoo. Bells rang in my head. I remembered what my Granny was saying to me on the phone, but somehow I just couldn’t bring myself to backing out.

So when my name was called, I went like a nervous soldier being lead to the electric chair. I took one look at the needle, the ecoutrements and wanted out of there. The Shopkeeper seemed “put-off” by my renegging on our agreement and demanded payment anyway. Whether or not I was getting tatoo. That’s when I heard a feeble, yet familiar voice.

“Excuse me young lady, but have you seen a teenage girl about 4 feet high, nervous and overzealous about getting a tatoo?”

“Oh yes, Madam, she’s right this way.”

Was I glad to see Granny. She showed up in the nick of time. While the Tatoo Maker and the Shopkeeper were hassling me for changing my mind. Granny just stepped in and handled the situation.

As usual she came with reinforcements. Granny enlisted the help of her Ambulette Drivers as well as their EMT friends. Just in case there was a slip of the old needle.

Granny remarked, “With any kind of piercing of the skin, anything can go wrong. It’s better to be safe than sorry.”

Granny continued to explain to the Store Personnell,that I had a brief moment of Teenage Mania and that I cannot be held accountable for my decisions, it was the hormones taking over. So with that said, Granny, me and the EMT’S left out of the parlour in a hurry. Just in case I changed my mind.

That’s the thing with teenage years, teenagers have more ideas than Albert Einstein ever did. Each idea changes like the wind, so you just never know where their minds are being focused.

Although, I thought my Granny was not concentrating on my insignificant decisions, it turned out that she heard every word I said and was determined to stop me from making a blithering idiot out of myself.

Granny summed up the situation by saying, “One day you will thank me for this, Tatoos are like jewelery, one day you may want to wear them, one day you may not. What then? Are you going to cover your skin with pieces of cloth to hide them?”

“Them Granny?”

“Yes, them. Because you children, once you start, you can’t stop! Society still has social stigmas on certain things. So, try to make your life as less complicated as possible.”

I have always said, that my Granny was just an old-fashioned lady but she knew more about people and life than she lead on most of the time.

Today I can say I do not miss the absence of a tatoo and each time I think of that fateful day…..I could only attribute it to bouncing mi head somewhere.

Thank goodness for those, nosy, little, old, Grandmothers !

They are like Lighthouses always guiding us away from life’s storms.