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Nobel Laureate, DEREK WALCOTT; TRINIDADIAN? — Llewellyn Mac Intosh

Nobel Laureate, DEREK WALCOTT; TRINIDADIAN?
By Llewellyn Mac Intosh

In the year 1977, a calypsonian from Trinidad &Tobago named the Mighty Unknown caused patrons to the calypso tent to be falling off their seats when he performed a calypso called, “Ah Vex”. Unknown, in his cleverly constructed offering, threw four stanzas of piccong at the St Lucian poet whom the calypsonian alleged had had the temerity to be critical of the place which had been good enough to extend to him, its generosity;

“Derek you must be fou bé dangé or mad
Sit down on river stone and talk river bad
You wouldn’t talk about we pitch lake, oil and sugar
That you have enjoyed, through we ancestor;
What about we multi-racial society
Who are so friendly and full of courtesy,
Carnival is we festival and commerce
And sex is ah must; through the universe
You see why ah vex, ah more than vex
Derek Walcott say Trinidad is Carnival and Sex
Ah vex! Ah s-s- s-stammering vex
Derek suffering from one big, big, big complex
Derek go back to St Lucia and you would see
All kinda vice and sexology
Man marrieding man and is tee-la- lee-lah
And Derek wouldn’t say ah thing about St Lucia.”

Unknown was selected for the National Calypso Semi-Finals that year and his composition, beyond its
triggering of the nerve of sensibility in a population fiercely protective of its new-found nationalism in
that post black power era, would have made the average Trini, sadly, just barely aware of the genius
that literally walked and worked amongst them.


Walcott had lived and wed and wrote and worked in Trinidad & Tobago. The Mighty Unknown must have been on hand to over-hear one of the programmes, like “Cultural Miscellany,” that were state sponsored and frequently aired on one of the two radio stations that operated then. Walcott would, at the time have been a regular contributor, in the same way that he had regularly contributed to one of the daily newspapers with his regular features. There was therefore an awareness of his presence here; and awareness that prompted Unknown’s indignation at the poet’s need to bite the hands that were feeding him;

“Derek you must be fou bé dangé or mad
Sit down on river stone and talk river bad…”

Perhaps the 1977 episode though, was an aberration in the defining of the relationship betwixt the Nobel Laureate and the Trinidadian, for everything that this writer grew to learn and to know about the man Derek Walcott during the next forty-odd years signaled attitudes and emotions that were extremely contrary to those provoked by Julian Pierre’s singing in the mid-nineteen seventies.
There was respect, admiration, love and hero-worship, in some cases notwithstanding the brusqueness of attitude that Walcott displayed periodically, when he felt that his colleagues fell short of his expectations. But, much of this came later.
Our first official “meeting” came when as a first year, part-time student of West Indian Literature at the
University of the West Indies, St Augustine, the vacation assignment was – over Christmas – writing a
book report of the Walcott anthology, “In A Green Night” (1962).
The crispness in his presentation of successive lines of soul-touching poetry was fascinating. The
subsequent satisfactory grade for the Yuletide exercise further encouraged and heightened the interest
in the man and in his work and by the culmination of the semester, there was another student admirer
of the craftiness of the magnificence of the poet’s use of the idiom.
In my teenage years, I had met VS Naipaul and had enjoyed the images presented in the mirror. Titus
Hoyt, Man Man, Hat and Laura—characters from a collection set in wartime Trinidad– were real. I knew
them. They lived in the yard in which I grew up in Boissierre Village No. 1. I had not, however, analyzed
and joked at their frailties until the writings of Vidiadhar Surajprasad had skinned and presented them
for further examination…..like the pathologist would do to a patient etherized upon a table 1 . Within a
few years I was also to meet Ganesh Ramsay Muir and Mohun Biswas—the principal characters in two
novels by VS Naipaul. Their narratives were engaging and even enjoyable in the comic sense, and the
tragedy was spiced with dashes of comedy.


Walcott, when I met him, triggered no laughter. The seizure was different. The language of the poetry was compelling. One marveled at the range and the depth of the imagery. And, the messages resonated right off the galvanize fence in my backyard. They were localized and they teased and awakened my curiosity. I did not need encouragement, therefore, nor prompting, nor another Home Work exercise to
find the SPCK Bookshop on Abercromby Street, Port of Spain and begin to peruse my next two anthologies; first “The Castaway” (1965) and then, “The Gulf” (2004)

The growth of a quiet admiration was sustained, even as I read some more. Walcott seemed to understand – and if he did not understand, appeared to be giving voice to a common struggle.

My other colleagues – almost all of them – in that primary year at St Augustine had given up. Walcott
was too abstract, they said….inaccessible! I found their disenchantment and rejection of the poetry
painfully disappointing, but could not blame them entirely when they opted for Second Year Sociology
or Second Year Government. I begged to differ and lost a few friends, for regular paths became
separated by the dictates of the time tables. Their rejection was of Literature then, was absolute….as
absolute as my resolve to continue. Sure, not everything was grasped at the first or even the second
reading sometimes; but, in the lines and in the language there was so much joy – not laughter, nor
ridicule; but joy in the pure aesthetics of what the lines contained. I have had no regrets…

“An old lady writes me in a spidery style
Each character trembling, and I see a veined hand
Pellucid as paper, travelling on a skein
Of such frail thoughts its thread is often broken;
Or else the filament from which a phrase is hung
Dims to my sense, but caught, it shines like steel,
As touch a line and the whole web will feel.”
(A Letter from Brooklyn, 1962)

Additionally, works like; “A Far Cry from Africa”, “The Hurricane”, “Hic Jacet”, “Codicil”, “The Castaway”,
“Almond Trees” and “The Gulf” addressed troubling, personal and universal issues – seemingly within a
microcosmic universe that, for a young student of the language, was Trinidad & Tobago. Walcott
appeared to be grounded within the country and to have a predilection for the things that concerned us
here.

Laventille, Trinidad

Black consciousness in the era immediately after 1970, negritude, colonialism, patriotism, the crisis of identity – his and ours, the brain-drain, the impact and the effects of/on the natural environment, the sea, the exodus to North America, theism, death, the weather……even my fear of flying! – All his themes seemed to reflect my own concerns. Walcott became personal. I did not – could not perhaps, go as far; but many, many times we journeyed along the road together. Line after line of his images were “home-grown”-

 

 

“How can I turn from Africa and live?” (“A Far Cry from Africa”)

 

“At Cedros, thudding the dead sand
in spasms…” (Tarpan”)
“Bethel and Canaan’s heart
Lies open like a psalm…” (“Crusoe’s Island)
“Above the beached, rotting pirouges,
They were venomous beaked clouds at Charlotteville.” (“Codicil”)
“Dusk. The Flight, Passing Blanchisseuse.
Gulls wheel like from a gun again,” (“The Flight”)
And, how could I not but personalize his (or is it my) “Laventille”?

“It huddled there
steel tinkling its blue painted metal air,
tempered in violence, like Rio’s favelas,
with snaking, perilous streets whose edges fell as

its Episcopal turkey-buzzards fall
from its miraculous hilltop
shrine,
down the impossible drop
to Belmont, Woodbrook, Maraval, St Clair
that shine
like peddlers’’ tin trinkets in the sun.”

The description is impeccable. The imagery is unique. The style is mind-boggling in its accuracy. Even the presentation of the lines on the page is reflective of the ‘unharmonius’ nature of the terrain.
Walcott continues;

“…where the inheritors of the middle passage stewed,
five to a room, still clamped below their hatch,
breeding like felonies,
whose lives revolve round prison, graveyard, church.
Below bent breadfruit trees
In the flat, coloured city, class
Escalated into structures still,
Merchant, middleman, magistrate, knight. To go downhill
From here was to ascend.
The middle passage never guessed its end.”

He writes this for VS Naipaul, Trinidadian novelist. And for the university professor, another Trinidadian,
Kenneth Ramchand, Walcott writes, “The Saddhu of Couva”-

“And to that gong
sometimes bald clouds in saffron robes assemble
sacred to the evening,
sacred even to Ramlochan
singing Indian hits from his jute hammock
while evening strokes the flanks
and silver horns of his maroon taxi,
as the mosquitoes whine their evening mantras,
my friend Anopheles, on the sitar,
and the fireflies making every dusk Divali.”

The imagery is precise; and like the painter with a skillful hand and accurate eye, the language captures
and presents the detail of the scene with amazing flawlessness.

The front sign of the Trinidad Theatre Workshop. May 7th, 2015.

The next magical piece that is selected to make the point, evokes that Trinidadian calypsonian who
above all others fascinated listeners with amazing tales from his boundless imagination. The singer and
his genre are both Trinidadian and as if to complete his trilogy of references and assist in emphasizing
this writer’s argument; Walcott selects for its dedication, Earl Lovelace – the Trinidadian novelist…

“I have a room where I keep a crown,
And Satan send me to checkout this town.
…I beg him two weeks’ leave and he send me
back up, not as no bedbug or no flea,
but in this limeskin hat and floccy suit,
To sing what I did always sing: the truth.
Tell Desperadoes when you reach the hill,
I decompose, but I composing still:”

The style is rhythmic. The language is ‘calypsonic’ and almost pedantic. The message is savagely brutal,
ay, akin to political rhetoric…..”lyrics to make a politician cringe” (“Calypso Music”, David Michael
Rudder—1987).

“The time could come, it can’t be very long
when they will jail calypso for piccong,
for first comes television, then the press,
all in the name of Civic Righteousness;
it has been done before…”
“…rumour can twist
Into a style the local journalist –
As bland as a green coconut, his manner
Routinely tart, his sources the Savannah
And all pretensions to a native art
Reduced to giggles at a coconut cart,
Where heads with reputations, in one slice,
Are brought to earth, when they ain’t eating nice;
and as for local Art, so it does go
The audience have more talent than the show.”
“Is Carnival, straight Carnival that’s all
the beat is base, the melody bohbohl,
all Port of Spain is a twelve-thirty show,
some playing Kojak, some Fidel Castro,
some Rastamen, but, with or without locks,
to Spoiler is the same old khaki socks,
all Frederick street stinking like a closed drain,
Hell is a city much like Port of Spain…
and Lord, the sunlit streets break Spoiler’s heart,
to have natural gas and not to give a fart,
to see them lineup, pitch-oil tin in hand:
each independent, oil-forsaken island,
…but from Jamaica to poor Dominica
we make them know they begging, every loan
we send them is like blood squeezed out of stone,…
and, more we give, more we congratulate
we-self on our own self-sufficient state.
In all them project, all them Five-year Plan,
what happen to the Brotherhood of Man?”
(“The Spoiler’s Return”, 1981)
The poetry was not all.
I met and read the plays and in a sense; the poetry again. There were lines of drama that were poetic in
their expressions!

“Well I was coming through the forest now
And I passed by the white spring, and I saw
Some poor souls going to work for the white planter.
He’ll work you like the devil, but that’s what you want,
You and your impatience and arm cast in iron,
So turn to the right, go through the bamboo forest,
Over the black rocks then the forest will open,
And you will see the sky, below that a valley,
And smoke, and a white house that is empty,
The old fellow is hiring harvesters today” (Ti Jean and his Brothers, 1985)
And all of this…all of my encounter with Walcott, so far, has been within the twin island republic of
Trinidad & Tobago. Walcott stood, for me at least, like a Colossus;

“I’ll be what I am, so to hell with you. I’ll be what I am. I drink, and I drink and I feel
nothing. Oh, I lack heart to enjoy the brevity of the world [The FIREFLY passes dancing]
Get out of my way you burning backside. I’m the prince of obscurity and I won’t brook
interruption! Trying to mislead me because been drinking. Behave, behave. That
youngster is having a terrible effect on me. Since he came to the estate, I’ve felt like a
fool. First time in me life too. Look just a while ago I nearly got angry at an insect that’s
just a half-arsed imitation of a star. It’s wonderful! An insect brushes my dragonish hand,
and my scales tighten with fear” (Ti Jean and his Brothers, 1985)

I was fortunate, as a young man to see “Dream on Monkey Mountain”, “Ti Jean and His Brothers”, “Beef
No Chicken” and, of course, “The Joker of Seville”.


The latter drew me to Woodbrook; three or maybe four times, in 1974 when Walcott’s poetry and his prose; emerging from its Spanish antecedents and harmonizing itself with the music of Galt Mac Dermott was to fill the cramped interior of .the Little Carib Theatre night, after night, after night as the patrons’ insatiable desire for the jousts of bodies and language awakened in Trinidad & Tobago an universal desire for the theatre.

Notwithstanding an understanding of the many components that must interface to have the drama going, one must acknowledge the genius of Walcott – conductor on the bandstand – in his ability to draw citizens from all parts of the country for the exciting and exhilarating performances. It was undoubtedly the single occasion when Walcott’s poetry, unlike the commentary I had heard so many times before, was accessible to all.

The drumming of Andrew Beddeau, the crooning of Syd Skipper, the harmonies of Mac Dermott, the
sobriety of Hamilton Parris and the chicanery of Nigel Scott; within their various roles have etched for all
time notes of pleasure that regularly surface on the landscape of memory.
Whilst it is true that Galt Mac Dermott and Syd Skipper and Helen Camps and Wilbert Holder might not
have been the Trinidadians in the team, Walcott’s direction then, like with other presentations before
and after the Joker, brought to the fore some of the best that the country has had to offer in the realm
of theatre performance.
The magnificence of the troupe that one saw was a reflection, not only the writing; but the vision, the
direction and the passion of the father of the Trinidad Theatre Workshop….and perhaps, in a real way –
the Father of Trinidad & Tobago Theatre!


Walcott’s labour of love had culminated, in the Joker of Seville into an amazing gestation and the offsprings were; Hamilton Parris and Nigel Scott and Norline Metivier and Pat Flores and Errol Jones and June Nathaniel and Andrew Beddeau; and like the others before and after, they had morphed their craft and their talent – where it did exist – into perhaps the finest dramatic scenes that the country has
known.
Walcott’s raison d’etre, is perhaps best explained in “Hic Jacet”;

They’ll keep on asking why did you remain?
Not for the applauding rain
of hoarse and hungry thousands at whose centre
the politician opens like a poisonous flower
not for the homecoming lecturer
gripping his lectern like a witness, ready to explain
the root’s fixation with earth
nor for that new race of dung beetles, frock-coated, iridescent
crawling over people.
Before the people became popular
he loved them” (“The Gulf and Other Poems”, 1969)

Derek Walcott founded the Trinidad Theatre Workshop and remained here, maybe because he loved
us…or maybe, he felt that he was one of us.

******************************************

Llewellyn Mac Intosh, a free-lance radio broadcaster and a calypsonian (Short Pants) who practices his craft in Trinidad & Tobago, is a retired secondary school principal who currently spends his time
supporting the provision of educational opportunities for socially disadvantaged young men in the twin island republic.


We salute the women of Grenada who work towards progress, development and equality — Jacqueline Mckenzie

March 8 is celebrated globally as International Women’s Day (IWD). Originally organized by the Socialist Party of America, the celebrations first took place in February 1909 and were called International Working Women’s Day.  Big Drum Nation is commemorating the occasion by posting women’s reflections on the struggle for equality.
Every year the celebrations embrace a special theme reflecting the urgency of the moment. This year, proceeding from the World Economic Forum’s prediction that the gender gap is unlikely to close entirely until 2186, the theme addresses this unacceptable state of gender inequity as a human rights urgency. Big Drum Nation joins IWD in the campaign to #BeBoldForChange following up on last year’s Pledge for Parity Campaign. It is a quest for women and girls to achieve their ambitions, challenge conscious and unconscious gender bias, push for gender balanced leadership, value women’s equality, encourage inclusive flexible cultures, and for more gender inclusiveness.
We asked Help With Leadership Essay Jacqueline Mckenzie  what International Women’s Day means to her. Here’s her response:
http://retard-de-regles.com/school-assignments-online/ school assignments online “On this International Women’s Day we salute and celebrate with the women of Grenada who work towards progress, development and equality. We salute the farmers and agricultural workers; the road workers, cleaners, hotel and house workers; the home makers; the teachers and educators; the nurses and doctors; the engineers, architects, builders and innovators; the activists, campaigners and champions of human rights; the artists, musicians, writers, craft workers and preservers of culture and heritage; the environmentalists; the leaders and public officials who safeguard our people and our land; the wealth creators who respect the rights of workers and the brave trade unionists who won’t bow; the survivors of abuse and domestic violence; the mothers who create, nurture and provide despite…; the young women and girls who hold their heads up high despite…; the women of Grenada who today might cry, smile, sigh, kiss their teeth, struggle, explain, console, believe, love, be fearful, be hopeful; the beautiful Grenadian woman, protector of our nation and guarantor of our future.”
Jacqueline McKenzie is a UK based lawyer specializing in migration, asylum and refugee law. She lectures in migration law and is the founder of the Organization of Migration Advice and Research which works pro bono with refugees and women who have been trafficked to the UK. Jacqueline was born in England of Grenadian and Jamaican parentage and lived in Grenada between 1975 and 1981 attending St Joseph’s Convent and the Institute for Further Education. Jacqueline is passionate about Grenada and is also a founding member of the Grenada Development Network.

 


Women’s Rights are Human Rights — Keisha-Gaye Anderson

March 8 is celebrated globally as International Women’s Day (IWD). Originally organized by the Socialist Party of America, the celebrations first took place in February 1909 and were called International Working Women’s Day.  Big Drum Nation is commemorating the occasion by posting women’s reflections on the struggle for equality.
Every year the celebrations embrace a special theme reflecting the urgency of the moment. This year, proceeding from the World Economic Forum’s prediction that the gender gap is unlikely to close entirely until 2186, the theme addresses this unacceptable state of gender inequity as a human rights urgency. Big Drum Nation joins IWD in the campaign to #BeBoldForChange following up on last year’s Pledge for Parity Campaign. It is a quest for women and girls to achieve their ambitions, challenge conscious and unconscious gender bias, push for gender balanced leadership, value women’s equality, encourage inclusive flexible cultures, and for more gender inclusiveness.
We asked Jamaican-born poet and writer Keisha-Gaye Anderson  what International Women’s Day means to her. Here’s her response:
http://noxoinfo.com/custom-written-paper-services/ custom written paper services “It is important that this day is earmarked to call attention to women’s issues worldwide. We are witnessing a very important shift in the movement for women’s equality, with the recent women’s marches all over the globe and organized efforts to push against legislation that would further marginalize women or dictate what they should/should not do with their bodies. Never before have we seen such broad awareness and acceptance of the notion that women’s rights are human rights. And given our interconnectedness via media and the internet, I see this movement only growing. In a sense, I liken this to humanity balancing itself to ensure it has a future on this planet. Under patriarchy, women everywhere have suffered so much, for so long, that injustices are calling out to be redressed. Genius is eager to be unleashed. Different ways of organizing society are ready to come to the fore. Human beings as a species cannot thrive while forcefully suppressing more than half of its population. In facing the necessary challenge of bringing about equality for women, may we all reach a higher, healing level of awareness with which to view our world, and each other.”

homework help research paper Keisha-Gaye Anderson is a Jamaican-born poet and creative writer living in Brooklyn, NY. She is the author of the poetry collection Gathering the Waters (Jamii Publishing, December 2014), which was accepted into the Poets House Library. Her writing has been published in a number of national literary journals, literary magazines and anthologies, including Writing the Caribbean, Renaissance Noire, The Killens Review of Arts and Letters, Mosaic Literary Magazine, African Voices Magazine, Streetnotes: Cross Cultural Poetics, Caribbean in Transit Arts Journal, The Mom Egg Review and othersShe is a past participant of the VONA Voices and Callaloo Creative Writing workshops, and was named a fellow by the North Country Institute for Writers of Color. Keisha has also been short listed for the Small Axe Literary Competition. She is a founding poet with Poets for Ayiti. Proceeds from their 2010 chapbook, For the Crowns of Your Heads, helped to rebuild Bibliotheque du Soleil, a library razed during the earthquake in Haiti. She holds an M.F.A. in Creative Writing from The City College, CUNY and regularly leads writing workshops on CUNY campuses. Learn more about Keisha at www.keishagaye.com or at facebook.com/keishagayeanderson. Follow her on Twitter @KeishaGaye1 and Instragram @keishagayeanderson.

You can listen to some of her poems on Soundcloud

“Mask” – Keisha-Gaye Anderson

Calypso and Canada’s Sir Charles – Caldwell Taylor

Calypso is divine spirit and minor goddess in Greek mythology. She has a golden singing voice and, indeed, her vocal prowess imprisoned  the great Odysseus on the island of Ogygia.

You hear voice!

Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts

Many, many, many, many years later the presumptive Father of Canadian poetry, Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts (1860-1936), came  to Trinidad where he asserted that the real origin of the Caribbean song form known as calypso help in writing college essay for admissions buy essay on inflation effects  came from the Greek islands.
And the deathless Spoiler jump up and he bawl:“Ah wan to fall”.
CT



“East of Flatbush, North of Love” by Danielle Brown, Ph.D.

A Review by Jeff Hercules

If one word were acceptable as a review of Dr. Danielle Brown’s baruch college essay East of Flatbush, North of Love; do the right thing essay spike lee An Ethnography of Home, the word would be, http://rockexim.com/cheapest-essays-online/ ‘Wow!

All that would be left is for me to next explain my review.

It’s not often I read a book that speaks as if it were a replay of aspects of my life: This book does that.

It’s not everyday I realize a book has information that would have made me a more knowledgeable student in school: This book would have done that.

It’s also not everyday I identify with an author to the extent I feel flashes of kindred spirit, if kindred spirits can flash that is.

Do not be fooled by the number of pages this author takes to tell her story. Writing experts say take as many pages as you need. However, the 180 pages Dr. Brown takes to tell the tale of what she calls a, “few snippets of my life”, is deceptive. Her travels, the stops she makes along the way — both in real time and through time — along with the nuggets of information she provides would take anyone trying to summarize it all at least twice as many pages.

This book, the first of its kind from anyone as far as I am aware, chronicles aspects of her life in Brooklyn NY once born to, and raised by her immigrant Trinidadian parents.

In the spirit of it taking a village to raise a child, her early influences include more than what were Trinidadian. In fact, she would have been a centipede for her feet to be in all the worlds into which she was born. In the book, she focuses on the culture and heritage of the world of her parents and family members back in Trinidad and Tobago.

Parang Musicians Serenading

To label Dr. Brown a Trini who just happened to be born in Brooklyn would be superficial if not meaningless in its simplicity. From her book, it is obvious she knows more about her genealogy than the average Trinbagonian knows about theirs. She also knows more about the history of the country than its average citizen. Include me in both groups. I now know that along with not paranging the wrong house, parranderos’ song selection is based on where they are in the serenade. 

By the end of the book, I felt I knew Dr. Brown. Not all her experiences growing up in Brooklyn were my experiences growing up decades earlier in Trinidad and Tobago but, cut tails link us. My generation being closer to that of her parents made for some interesting reactions as I absorbed the book. Should I look at her sternly for fidgeting in church or, should I nod, thinking, http://calpoly.lambdaphiepsilon.com/photoshop-price/ “yes, dem services real long, ent?”

She uses over 100 musical pieces, mostly calypso and Soca, cueing up a different selection to set the tone and mood for a different section of her story. You want to set the scene for christi adams masters thesis ,  Part II: Of Ghosts and Obeah? Kitchener has http://profisvet.com/have-custom-paper-written-in-two-hours-or-less/ Love in the Cemetery and Sparrow, http://www.casasdecampo.com.co/do-newspapers-have-a-future-essay/ Obeah Wedding.

Labor Day Carnival 2014, Brooklyn, New York

But, with music being her forte, she includes enough non-Trini music to show her breadth. If Kitchener predates you and Sparrow is but a bird, you will be happy when she cues up Draze for her lament about the effects of gentrification.

Yes, I would argue 100 plus cues in 180 pages shows both depth and breadth of someone whose musical research has focused on parang.

Dr. Brown identifies what is important by how much time she spends on that topic: Religion is important. Family is important. Culture is important. Self is important.

I am still debating when would have been better to know her story was as she described — snippets of her life; link before or go site after she told it. Would I have had my initial struggle to align with the book’s style if I had had known that http://augustform.com/dissertation-review-service-marking/ Dissertation Review Service Marking before? In the end, it may be of little importance.

Dr. Danielle Brown reading from her book, “East of Flatbush, North of Love”

All the book’s footnotes? Dr. Brown had been steeped in academia. Still, I enjoyed the reference to The Andrew Sisters and writing a annotated bibliography Rum and Coca Cola. I had waited for an opening to dispute reference to Morey Amsterdam and ownership of the song only to have Dr. Brown neutralize my planned counterpunch by recognizing Lord Invader in the mini scandal over the song.

Read the book for details.

The snippets of her life she had shared did not slake my thirst so I sought out more information about Dr. Brown. Now I know my membership in the Trinidad and Tobago diaspora meant I was targeted for reading her book. She said as much before realizing how wide a net she wanted to cast for readers. In her amended view, anyone who could read should read the book.

When I searched local Trini newspapers online using the book’s title, I did not get any hits. Not good.

So, to go along with my early, enter site ‘Wow!, of approval, let me add this: If you are part of the  Caribbean diaspora you where can i buy resume paper should read this book.

If you are part of the Trinidad and Tobago diaspora you http://topmarketsoft.com/product/sony-cd-architect-5-2/ Buy Sony CD Architect 5.2 oem have to read this book. Everyone else is invited.

watch Jeff Hercules blogs weekly on all things Trini at community service essays www.trinispeak.com . He has begun pulling his various writing projects into one location: Visit www.jeffhercules.com for that.


Independence and Nation-Making – Caldwell Taylor

 

 Independence and Nation-Making

 by Caldwell Taylor

A Nation is the ecstatic electricity that inhabits May Fortune’s* voice

Big Drum dance

A Nation is the healing thunder of Sugar Adams’ * drum
A Nation is a concert of comforting conceits
A Nation is  the repository of our dreams
And a Nation is the insurgent sea that lifts our boats
our nets 
our hopes 
our heroes 
our sheroes.
 
A Nation is a site and sight of struggle, a thing calypsonian “Black Wizard” noted:
If you want to get rid of Babylon and build a just Nation
You’ve got to struggle on and on…..”
* May Fortune (1909-1973)
*Furgueson “Sugar”  Adams (1890-1983)  
research paper writer manila Caldwell Taylor is a former Grenada diplomat and editor of Big Drum Nation.

February 7, 2016

19th October, 1983: As the crows fly above…

AL ROUGIER on OCTOBER 15, 2016

As the crows fly above, the sun re-emerges after the light drizzle that moistened the bodies of the protesting crowd. Their bodies glistening with the mixture of sweat and raindrops, and pure adrenalineIMG_20160924_054117.jpg.

At this point, Maurice is surrounded by his comrades, in the Operations Room where major decisions are being made. There is a mixture of adults and youths, young and old alike, male and female, supporters and new supporters. With this deadly cocktail of people where values and ethics differ, comes the deadly decision made by his populace who hijacked his leadership, to fight the powerful and ideological military regime. His political chairmanship has been hijacked and has taken a course that is not of his own choosing—though, a few minutes later, he will pay for their choices.

Before the volley of gunfire ruptures the chanting demonstrators on the fort, the correspondence between Fort Rupert and Fort Frederick is heating up. The desire for vengeance, power, and thirst for blood is manifesting. At this point, the intention is set and there is no turning back. He must die. It is now or never—and they chose now.

No one expected the events that followed—the lining up of Maurice and his cabinet ministers along the walls of Fort Rupert, this relic of a colonial past. Its stones hardened with blood and memory of years gone by, of lives deceased, and the effects of weather patterns and the salty air of the Caribbean Sea. It will soon be accessorized with the ricocheted bullets of highly powerful automatic rifles, blood, bone fragments, brain matter and, ruptured flesh. The volley of gunfire will now become the official soundtrack to the terror and fear of 19th October, 1983.

And just like that, the tiny tri-island state of Grenada, Carriacou and Petit Martinique has become world news. This moment will forever leave ripples and shrapnel in the lives of Grenadians near and far. To this day, the metal fragments from that day are logged in the minds, bodies, and the soul of a nation.

 

wall againt which they were line up.JPGLong live these names: Andy Sebastian Alexander, Nelson Steele, Simon Alexander, Vince Noel and Avis Ferguson (two of the first to die), Alleyne Romain, Eric Dumont and Gemma Belmar–this list includes “students, laborers, union leaders, New Jewel Movement members” (Puri 2014: 90). The PRA members killed that day, including Dorset Peters, are: Raphael Mason, Conrad Mayers, Martin Simon, Franklyn James and Glen Nathan. The ministers lined up and killed: Jacqueline Creft, Evelyn Bullen, Fitzroy Bain, Norris Bain, Unison Whiteman, Keith Hayling, Evelyn Maitland and Maurice Bishop.
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For the past nine years I have been carrying the memory of Fort Rupert with me. I did not live through it, I was born a month later. I actively started doing research on the events of 19th October, 1983 earlier this year with the simple hope of finding answers and closure for myself and hopefully for the grieving family members.  It has been a challenge. It has been rewarding. It has been complicated. It has been frightening. It has been cathartic. As I pay homage to the lives loss on that fateful day, I bid them all farewell. I must leave them here.IMG_20161009_111338483.jpg

InSongs of Blood and Sword, Fatima Bhutto, in describing the political climate of Pakistan and the violence that has persisted since its birth, hauntingly writes, “It has been a trial writing this book about my family. Through letters and notebooks, photographs and interviews, it has opened them up to me and made them, all my ghosts, whole. But by virtue of what I now know about them, I must close them off. I must take my leave and remove myself from their shadows, their glories, their mistakes and their violent, extraordinary lives. There is just one member I cannot leave behind, Papa. I started this book with the intention of making my peace with my father, of finally honouring my last promise to him—to tell his story—and then, to finally say goodbye. But I can’t. He especially became whole to me, flawed and ordinarily human, unlike the immortal being I revered as a child growing up. His choices, remarkable and dangerous, honourable and foolish, are not mine but I lived them. I have also lived, since his death, with an incomplete picture of my father as a murdered man—holding vigil for him daily in my thoughts, in my steps and travels, in my public moments and in my eyes blinking him in every morning and closing him off to sleep every night. I had forgotten, in these fourteen years, that he was once alive and, for a brief while, only mine. He seems very alive to me now. It is too sweet a thought to push aside, so I delay the thought of farewells, if only for a little while longer” (437). Unlike Fatima, I bid the dead farewell.IMG_8060.JPG


Come Celebrate 10th Anniversary of NYC Transit Strike this Saturday at MEC

twu-feature[1]This coming weekend marks a decade since the City of New York was brought to a standstill as a result of the first Citywide Transit Strike in 25 years. The strike started on Dec 20th, 2005 and lasted for 3 days.41L+NSgdboL._SY344_BO1,204,203,200_[1]

A program marking the 10th Anniversary of the Dec 2005 NYC Transit Strike is being held on http://www.programista.zstrybnik.pl/?best-dissertation-writers-written best dissertation writers written Sat. Dec 19th from 2pm to 6pm.

The program is free to the public and will be held in the ‘Founders Auditorium’ at Medgar Evers College, CUNY, located at 1650 Bedford Ave in Brooklyn (Between Crown St and Montgomery St).

The program is supported by the Medgar Evers College Department of Public Administration and is sponsored by a working committee of Transit workers, Community organizations, Activists, and experts from the Legal and Academic communities.

45CC4697-5056-A174-19672572D9664B7F_mid[1]The program features displays, videos, slides about this historic 2005 strike. It includes a keynote address by Roger Toussaint, who led Transit workers during their strike and presentations from Journalists, Commentators, Legal and Academic experts as well as Social Justice Organizers from the Black Lives Matter and Domestic Workers Movements.

Take the IRT #2,3,4 or 5 train to Franklin Ave. The Bldg is two blocks from Empire Blvd.

Parking is also available in the rear of 1650 Bedford Ave.