CityGirl

I’ve been trying to post on Miss Lou’s death from I heard the news of her passing, but just could not find the right words. I wanted to write a Miss Lou type poem as a tribute, but alas I’m no poet. As someone who grew up in Jamaica in the 70’s it feels like a personal loss. Every single Jamaican child who grew up during that time wanted to go on ‘Ring Ding’ on tv. I never did go, I think once, arrangements were made but fell through and I remember crying my heart out in disappointment. If a child was in the household it would be mandatory for tv to be on, on a Saturday - Was it midday that the programme came on then? I heard someone on Cool fm saying that they feel like a major part of their childhood has been lost because all the ‘Ring Ding’ tapes have been lost or erased. I quite understand the feeling. Fortunately though, while we may never be able to recapture those images of Miss Lou saying ‘Clap dem’ or telling about ‘Auntie Roachie’ on Ring Ding, we won’t forget them because they’re etched indelibly in our hearts. We’ll also never forget that she inspired pride in our culture and most of all in the local vernacular. While it is accepted that it’s important to be conversant with the English Language, the Jamaican patois will always have pride of place. Miss Lou made it acceptable to showcase it beyond our borders, and pave the way for other persons to earn a living from its usage.

As our foremost cultural icon, it feels appropriate that she passed on during the Jamaican festival celebrations when we’re in the midst of celebrating our culture. It’s especially eerie that she made her transition on the day the the JCDC had its annual SpeechFest, where children from across the nation normally recite the famed Louise Bennett poems. She said once in an interview that her greatest pleasure was hearing the little children recite one of her poems, putting their own spin to it. I like to think that she went off with a smile, with the sound of a child reciting ringing in her ears.

Miss Lou, I’ll miss you, thanks for helping to create wonderful childhood memories, as our cultural ambassador and champion of the Jamaican patois, you did a wonderful job. As yu use to love say wen yu deh pon tv, ‘Walk good’, God bless yu mi chile, and Rest In Peace. We love you.

Non-Jamaican can read about the awesome Dr. the hon Louise Bennett-Coverly and see a sample of her poems here

I did the unthinkable. After much deliberating, doubts about the wisdom of it, I said what the hell and took the plunge. I thought, what’s the worse that can happen? Well, I wasn’t worried about being kidnapped or anything like that but I was concerned about being busted.

Yep, I went to the much touted blogger link-up here in Jamaica and met eleven other bloggers. Crazy, aren’t I? At first I thought, maybe this is not a good idea. What contributes to blogging being so popular is the mystery element. So you know everything about the bloggee’s life but that’s fine since you don’t know who the bloggee is. You have no idea that the respectable, bespectacled neighbor that you bid good morning each day is ‘Man out of town’ who likes freaky sex.

I wanted to be able to cuss, deride, criticise everyone who got on my wrong side without being confronted some time later about it or putting my job at risk. I wanted to mull about that guy who couldn’t get it up regardless of what I did (no I haven’t blogged about that yet) without contributing to the poor soul’s embarassment. I thought that it was ok for MadBull and Abeni to be all gungho about it, afterall they don’t live here. And so I pondered. What if *gasp* I meet up on someone who reported to me in the past, or an ex (or even present) boss. I don’t even know which would be worse. My carefully crafted image of the of the confident, young professional would be shattered. The people who aren’t my friends may know from a very frank post that I’m not always as self-assured as I like to project. Oh crap, forget this.

However, the bane of human’s existence, a combination of curiousity and inquisitiveness triumphed. That same nosiness that cause me to spend countless hours every night reading about diverse lives of the authors of the different blogs that I frequent. My grandmother would say is ‘fastness’.

So anyway I pried myself from the house telling myself that I’m just going for icecream by Devon House and depending on how I feel I’ll pop in just to peep. While parking, I anxiously looked in and saw a largish group and wondered. Hmmm, they look quite decent from where I’m sitting in driver’s seat and most importantly didn’t see anyone I know. Ok, maybe I’ll just go get a drink from the bar without them knowing who it is. Yeah, that’s what I’m going to do. Maybe.

I approached the door, looking for Madbull and KingstonGirl who both have pictures on their sites. Dr.D had indicated that he might not be there so even though he also has a pic on his site, I wasn’t looking for him. I paused at the door; I didn’t see KG but wow, that handsome guy must be MadBull, he looked nicer in person
It was great folks, I put a face to some of the blogs I frequent. I won’t mention everyone I meet for fear of leaving out someone. I was quite pleased to meet Francis whose blog got me started. I mentioned him in my very first blog.

I noticed however that I was the only female Jamaica blogger who turned up so I guess that says something about me. It’s either, I have too much time on my hand and don’t have much to do with it or that I’m just more inquisitive than the typical Jamaican female blogger. Take your pick.

My body hurts. Thanks to swimming class yesterday, I ache everywhere. I was thrown off at the deep end literally and figuratively. I was and am still frightened out of my wits but I love it. Swimming class was awesome.

I was just complaining to a co-worker yesterday that I don’t seem to be progressing as fast as I want to. After six lessons, I can swim a little (I think) but only in the shallow section. It concerned me that even in the shallow section I didn’t seem to be able to swim the width without stopping and I didn’t think this augur well for my advancement to the deep. It seems a certainty that I’ll drown in the deep section since obviously I won’t be able to stand and rest. However despite my fear, I desperately wanted to be taken to the deep since I thought it would speed up the learning process.

Well, it seems that all those thought were transmitted to my swim instructor.

Went to class yesterday, armed with my new fins and goggles. Instructor greeted me “So you’re ready for the deep today.”
“Of course,” I returned in a robust manner even though my heart faltered at the thought.

There was another lady there apparently starting lessons that evening. Apart from once when two other ladies joined us, normally I’m the only student for that instructor in the evenings. I like when other persons are there though, I like company in my world of fear.

Instructor told us to pick up our stuff (noodles, board, fins) and follow him.

Now there are two pools. There is the main pool with the shallow section which had been ‘home’ to me. It’s about 5 ft deep and I can stand with head above water. I’m fine there. There is a deep section to that pool, about 9 ft deep and instructor has taken me over there a couple times for treading lessons and to jump in a few times to get over fear of the deep. I’m not quite sure how successful those ‘fear’ exercises were since I am still afraid.

Then there’s the other pool which is past the main pool that I just described. That’s really deep, about 20 ft, and that has a diving section. I have never been over there, didn’t imagine that I’d be anywhere that side until probably my 20th class.

Naturally since instuctor said, head over to the deep, I’d think it’s the deep (9ft) section of the main pool. I saw instructor by the diving pool (20ft) but just thought he was hailing up people over there. How wrong was I?!! There were two noodles so I figured (quite logically) that one would be for me and one for fellow student. I noticed that instructor told fellow student to use both noodles. Strange I thought. Instructor turned to me “Jump In.”
“I don’t have a noodle,” (I’m wondering if he’s mad at this point).
“Jump in, you’ve passed noodle stage, you’re going to swim across.” (Ok, there’s no doubt about it, he’s definitely lost it.)

To cut a long story short after much protests, whining, pleading, begging which were ignored by instructor, I pushed my heart back down to it’s normal resting place and ’swam’ across. First attempt wasn’t too bad. Even though instructor was beside me, he didn’t have to assist me. Afterall I was swimming for my life! Second attempt, I panicked and he had to help. Third attempt, I panicked and he didn’t help - just stayed beside me shouting, “swim, swim” (wretched man!). Well I didn’t swim, was too frightened to remember form, just did a little dog-paddle thing to get myself to the wall. Instead of being chided by now grinning instructor, he seemed pleased “Good, you saved yourself, notice that I didn’t help?” (Damn, wretched man!!!)

Treading wasn’t too much better. For something that looked so easy it’s surprisingly hard. Apart from getting accustomed to the notion of my legs being spread-eagled under water as if I’m about to….. well, let’s not get into that, it’s also painful. My instructor found it quite amusing when I told him that I haven’t had practice spreading legs that wide in a while

The great thing though is, despite all the aches and pains, I now feel more hopeful. Despite my fear, or probably as a result of it, I desperately want to learn how to swim. I think I’m getting there.

I love my country, but damn if it isn’t rife with hypocrisy!

Now, a group of really influential companies that are always sponsoring events (think Air J, Red Stripe, C&W, Digicel) formed a Coalition of Corporate Sponsors. Now this so-called coalition’s main objective was to encourage/insist on some decency in dancehall events. Any artiste performing in an event that they sponsored was supposed to adhere to certain rules, observe certain code of conduct - no cursing, bashing of gays etc. Beenie Man and Bounti Killer had violated that at a carnival event and they were banned.

Now, can someone explain to me how is it that Fiddy (50c) performed at Reggae Sumfest last week, used a lot of foul language and I haven’t heard peep out of anyone about it. Huh? Nada, Nil, zilch from the Corporate sponsors. Does the code only apply to local artistes? I wasn’t there but I heard that Dancehall night which is traditionally the rawest night of all was like church service compared to when Fiddy performed.

Now don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against Fiddy but what is good for the goose must be good for the gander. I’m not even necessarily against risque performances (I do love Lady Saw) but it’s unfair to have separate rules.

My personal view is this, apply ratings to the different events just as there are rating to albums. Therefore, patrons know from beforehand that they are attending an xrated event. I’m not necessarily excited about the cursing during the performance, the occasional or odd expletive I can live with. However, I don’t wan’t to listen to any performance where the expletives are like punctuation marks. I can appreciate though, that not everyone feels the same way that I do.

We need to level the playing ground though.

Read some more on this here

Do you notice how life never seems to be synchronised? The right things happen at the wrong time. You know, you meet the man of your dreams when you’ve given up finding him and decide to get married before the clock stop ticking. Or you find the perfect apartment to buy/rent after you’ve already paid down on another one. Or one year into your degree programme, the university that you really wanted to attend notifies you that you’re accepted. Things like that.

Now this is the latest of the unsynchronised events in my life.

Earlier in the year I was actively seeking a job in Trinidad. I wanted to work else where in the Caribbean and decided on Trinidad for a number of reasons. I heard that it was the next vibiest island after Jamaica. My friend lives there so I’d have somewhere to stay until I find a job and my own apartment.

I sent out Resumes, went to the T&T High Commission on Knutsford Boulevard to search the Trini papers for jobs. I was in Trinidad twice this year, February for carnival and April during the Easter weekend and I applied for jobs that I saw in the papers during those times. Still no job. No one called.

So I got back to Jamaica where there was a message inviting me for an interview. Did the whole interview thing, got the job at a well established Jamaican group of companies. Been there about three months now and quite comfortable. In addition to that, I’m now in the process of purchasing my first home, made the deposit already, just waiting on the construction to be completed.

Now. Why did I get several messages from HRC Trinidad last week, exhorting me to call them? So anyway, I called. They want a Senior Project Manager for a very established communication company in Trinidad, and yes they disclosed the name of the company (one that also has a subsidiary here in Jamaica).

I had called just to tell them thanks for considering me but I’m already in a job. Geez, the man I spoke with kept asking if I’m sure I don’t want to consider the position. He was telling me that he spoke with the client and they both agreed that I’d be perfect based on my qualifications, experience, the client is eager to speak with me, blah, blah, yahdah, yahdah.

Sigh. Now why didn’t all this happen earlier in the year when I wanted to go? Why? I was quite tempted. I was seriously wondering if I shouldn’t go to Trini just to hear some more about the job. At one point, when I told him that my circumstances have changed and I really couldn’t leave, was telling him that house being built and job ok so far, he even asked if I’d consider working with the company but stay in Jamaica. Then he told me, to call them immediately if I changed my mind.

Now, I ask again. Why is it that things don’t happen when it’s supposed to happen? Why??????

I had a very interesting day on Wednesday. During the morning while at work, I got a phone call from this woman advising that I “stop f–cking her man.” At first I thought it was a wrong number (after all I haven’t slept with anyone since last year) because the person didn’t even have the correct name. She had asked to speak with ‘Alicia.’ Anyway, after I heard the name she asked for, I advised that she had the wrong number at which point she insisted that it wasn’t. So I asked “Who is it that you want Miss?”
Response - “I want to speak with you.”
Me - “What’s the name of the person you want?”
Response “That’s irrelevant right now, if your cell number is ——–, you’re the person I want.”

I was just about to hang up on this time-waster when she shocked me with the “You’re fucking the wrong man” statement.

WTH!!! I’m being blamed for a game that I’m not playing? Shocking!!!!! I wish to hell I was sleeping with someone.

After getting over the initial shock, I started to think of all my male friends and which one would have someone in their life who would make that mistake.

So I ticked them off mentally. There’s the ‘person running me down for last 15 years that I feel like I’m starting to like’. Check. Nah, couldn’t be him, he doesn’t deal with those dramatic types. Ok, then there’s neighbor who has girl-friend overseas and obviously sleeping with people out here -more than 1 person I think. He did say once that his girl-friend is into drama like that. Hmmm, I wonder. I didn’t have long to wait to find out. The phone rang again. Even though I have an office for myself, I didn’t think it would be conducive for the conversation that I expected would ensue, so I stepped outside.

I tend not to get into these situations, stayed far from them. Apart from a major error in judgement some years ago when I very briefly dated this married man (silly, silly me) I thought I was in love with, I don’t mess with other people’s person. I was nevertheless, quite intrigued by this unfolding drama.

Outside:

“Hello? Excuse me? I’m not sleeping with your man.” (didn’t even think at the time to confirm which man I’m supposedly bedding)
“Yes you are. Your number is ———–, you’re sleeping with my man, and I’m coming to Jamaica to sort it out.”
“Huh? I’m not sleeping with your man! You have the wrong person!!!” (Still haven’t found out which man this was, but sounding like a stuck record, see how much experience I have dealing with this sort of thing??)
“My name is G——. My man’s name is ——— ———. Don’t you know that person?”

At this point everything became quite clear. At this point too I realize that if the woman seemed so sure she had the right person, I should have inquired about the identity of the man, but that didn’t seem relevant since I wasn’t sleeping with anyone at all, regardless of identity.

It was as I suspected, my player-neighbor. Now, how did I come to be in this situation? This is not even someone I hang out with. We do talk a lot, have a good neighborly relationship, I know about his girlfriend(s). He’s hinted that things weren’t too right with girl-friend overseas (the irate caller). I know that he sees other people out here, have even given him suggestions on what to wear on one of his dates with girl here in Jamaica. I have even spoken to irate-caller on her trips here, she doesn’t even realize she’s speaking to the neighbor she has hailed up cheerfully on more than one occasion.

Anyway, I don’t know if I managed to convince irate-caller-girlfriend, but I made it very clear that not only am I not sleeping with her man, I have no damn desire nor interest in doing so. Can you imagine upon hearing that, the next question was “What? You don’t find him attractive?” I replied that I’m just not interested and her response was “Well, he wants to sleep with you.” Dammit it woman, if the man wants to sleep with me how is it my problem? He can take a number!!! (Well, I didn’t say this but I was thinking it).

Sigh. Why do women do this anyway? This woman is going to fly all the way from the States to deal with the situation of her man sleeping with someone. Is it logical to try and track down all the women and warn/intimidate them into not accepting the advances of her man? Isn’t it simply to just kicker the f–ker to the damn curb? I don’t get it. To me even if a woman is sleeping with ‘your man’ you need to deal with the man about the situation because 1)the other woman can and more likely will be replaced if the man is determined to sleep outside the relationship 2)the other woman probably don’t know that she’s the ‘other woman’ instead of the main one. 3) the other woman didn’t make a commitment to you and probably don’t care too hoots any-dam-way!

I wanted to advise her to kick neighbor to the curb because I know he has other other women but didn’t think it was my place to do so.

If she insists on coming to Jamaica to deal with it, I do hope she quickly identify the guilty party though, don’t want to be fielding slaps and kicks meant for someone else.

In the meantime, maybe I should install a peep-hole in my door.

Blogging has become a past-time for me and hoardes of other people people all around the world and it’s quite understandable why this is so. I discovered today that there have been cases of people being fired from their jobs because of this pursuit. Well, I found out about two so far. There’s Queen of the Sky who was fired from Delta for posing in her uniform and there’s Petite Anglaise, the English single mother living in France whose employer fired her for blogging on the job (well, that was the excuse that they gave). Now I know plenty of you are all going to be running scared. Should I think twice about using this medium to cuss out my boss or criticize my co-workers (even when they deserve it).

So is it a case of being no-holds-bar honest and risk being identified and face the consequences or have a no-personality blog that puts everyone (including the writer) to sleep. Censor yourself or be censured?

Rising Star:
Anyway, on the local (Jamaican) scene, just finished watching Rising Stars (Jamaican version of American Idol) and I was quite pleased with the talents on display. Hey at this rate, I’m going to go broke just voting. I have 6 persons that I just have to vote for today and they didn’t even show all the competitors (Jeez, what’s the right word? Competitors sounds sporty and contestants sounds like beauty queens).

Swimming:
I’ve taken 6 swimming lessons so far and already I feel discouraged. Now don’t get me wrong, it isn’t because I haven’t seen any progress. It’s just my impatience kicking in. It just seems like I have a long way to go before I can swim. When am I going to get to the stage where I can swim the length of the pool. I can’t even swim the width without stopping at least three times to rest and breath (in the shallow part). So how on earth am I going to swim the whole length, bear in mind that I won’t be able to stop to rest and breathe in the deep side. If only my Mother hadn’t listened to my foolish Aunt who advised her to discontinue my swimming lessons while in Prep School because (Now get this people) I was still wetting my bed. Did she think I was soaking up the water in the pool?

Man. This is the life. Eating ice-cream and muffins while reading blogs. (Said the person with not much of a life

By the way, I take it y’all know the proper way to eat ice-cream? Ok, for the unenlightened. Put the ice-cream in the microwave for a few seconds so it’s nice and soft. Then, crush some Excelsior (known to us Jamaicans as ‘tough crackers’) crackers and mix in it so it’s nice and slurpy.

Hmmm, deeelicious

Damn!! When did this become the Sports Blog Central? Anyway, I remember the days (long, long ago while in my teens) when I didn’t really watch the sports section of the news (Actually, don’t even remember watching the news either) because that was boring.

Fast forward ten years later (ok, it’s more than 10, but a higher number makes me feel like Methuselah) and I’m watching the news on tv and wondering why the dickans the news reader didn’t hurry up so that I can hear the Sports News already. I wonder if I’m turning into a man? Maybe I’ve just become more enlightened.

Anyway, sports news was just great. Go, Sherone Simpson. You go, girl. The second fastest time in this year is a darn great achievement. For those not in the know, our girl Sherone Simpson just ran a very scintillating race, beat Marion Jones and posted a time of 10.87. Hey, us Jamaicans are so talented. I guess that’s why we’re such loud-mouth braggarts.

But back to the issue of whether or not I’m turning into a man. One of my girlfriends spent the night by me last week. She usually does that because she lives clear behind God’s back past Spanish Town and since she’s the Marketing Manager of her company, has quite a few events to attend. These events most times end after midnight, and self-preservation dictates that she doesn’t travel that distance from Kingston that time of night. Anyhow, the next morning while getting ready for work, I had my bath before her. Shortly after she went to take her shower, I heard a loud scream rent the air, disturbing the peaceful slumber of my neighbors. Well, I didn’t have to go see what the problem was since I had figured it out by then. I had not turned off the shower. Actually I find that quite annoying myself, even when I’m the guilty party AND the victim. Even though I wear a shower cap, it’s still a little frightening, to turn on the bottom tap, and be surprised by a shower of water when you’re not quite ready. When you’re not wearing a shower cap (and girl-friend wasn’t) it’s quite distressing. Anyway, the reason why I brought up this long gone episode is this. My friend emerged from the bathroom, marched to the living room where I was casually sipping my tea and screamed at me “Dam, how could you not turn off the pipe? Are you a man? Only men do that!!!”

Oh well, I did tweeze a hair from my chin this morning. And it does look like fun being able to pee standing.

I’m listening to Pastor Carla Dunbar from some Church of God of Prophesy, in Buff Bay. The programme is Religious Hard Talk. Some very controversial and interesting topics boy. They’re discussing premarital sex in the church and should a Pastor baptise someone who is in a common-law situation. She is saying that she would because salvation is instantaneous and individual so why wait until the situation is better to save the person’s soul. Ian Boyne (playing devil’s advocate, no doubt) is asking if that’s not a situation of waving the carrot in front of the rabbit, since face it, if the man is not a christian, he can’t be expected to forget his urges because the woman is now a christian. Very controversial topic. And she’s good man, making some good points.

My own thing is this. And I’ve said it time and time again. I have to see the goods before I buy it. I’m sorry, I’m not marrying the man until I test him out. As us Jamaicans love to say, “ah not buying no puss in the bag.” I cannot promise anyone that I can make that type of commitment, you know being a christian without being married. Nuh-uh. I find that if I am not seeing anyone, I can not have sex for an unbelievably long time, but if I’m seeing someone, it’s not going to happen. This rabbit is not having any carrots dangling in front of her without taking a damn healthy bite. Trust me.