Friday, 15 March 2019

Moonlit night.

Dear World,

On a full-moon night, I does stand on this bed here and look north-east through the big window facing the sea. I does feel a wildness, something more than happiness, more than joy, I don't know if a word for it exist, I does feel it rushing through me veins, making me heart beat like a soft drum, fulling me head with love-thoughts, and I does wish I could fly out and sing this feeling to you, dear World.

Whenever me best friend in the Whole Wide World call via the Internet on a night like this, I does point me camera to that view.

The full moon, hanging low, does throw a light on the black-quivering sea, and even though cars and jeep rush past on the road, I does feel as if a mystical silence cover me and me friend, and only we two voices I can hear.

If only, dear World, if only everybody could experience this sea-stillness, and this light-beauty inside we-self, we-the-people everywhere wouldn't have to suffer the horror that hate wreaking 'pon all o' we everywhere today.

The other day, I hear a new song that reflect this longing in me.

Last night...I remember this song after the bloodshed last night in New Zealand.

The song is a ghazal, a love song, a type of Arab poetry that sing about separation and yearning to be together.

This song though is not a romantic song. Is a love song for all of humanity, separated, craving connection.

The video show a station...train or bus, I ain't know. It look like war pass through, and the people looking sad, waiting to continue on they life-travels.

Then Ali Sethi start to sing, and the connection...was a dream...or was real?

Oh World, oh beautiful, aching World. I wish, how I wish.

Thursday, 20 December 2018

In between countries...

Recently, I been running like salamander on water between countries. True-true story!

From home...

to Ma...

...Ma to home...

Every time I leave Guyana to go Florida, them Guyanese people does say, "Enjoy you' holiday."

"I ain't going for holiday," I does protest. "Is like going from one home to another. Same things I do."

I manage, between the huffin' an' de puffin', to finish the first of me Guyana series manuscript. I find a seriously talented artist who draw me concept of me book cover. It wickeeeed baaaaad. 

How me excited.


I got to wait. I got to sort out a couple o' legal things before I pooblish.

What to do, eh? 

My philosophy in life is this...sometimes, we got to wait.

In the meantime, I building memories....

What y'all doing for Christmas?

Monday, 17 September 2018


Here me is again in Florida, visiting Ma.

Every time I got to go through that airport routine, take off belt, shoes...


I does think...

...suppose somebody pants fall down?

Or worse, suppose somebody shoes smell 




like Mattaar shoes?


Dat man shoes did smell so bad like rotten cheese and ganda egg...

...long Guyana story for another day!


Y'all does remove shoes at the door when you enter you' home? 

We do, in Guyana, and we bring the habit here in Florida.

Fortunately, we shoes does behave civilised.

Shoe superstition: never buy shoes for you' man or woman.  They gon wear dem same shoes and walk out on you.

In some culchas, if you beat somebody with you' shoes...BIG INSULT!

Speakin' of culture and shoes, one of the best stories I ever see about shoes was a movie, Children of Heaven, about a boy and he li'l sister adventures 'cause of a lost pair o' shoes.

Things we take for granted, eh?

Friday, 3 August 2018

Home Sweet Home.


I been so busy editing the manuscript about life in the ole home by the sea (y'all like me art work on me bathroom wall?)

Before I know it, time pass.

Anyway, I say to meself, lemme share some pics of what that ole home did look like (yes, I useta sleep with me books that I reading, and me notebook...hehe...)

Yes, we love a bookshelf loaded with...books.

Ma can't do without the enamel mug, I don't know why.

And, of course, houses can't do without the grill for protection from teef (thieves).

If this flower coulda talk, ohhh, the conversations it overhear!

Aaaand...the wild garden.

So...there you have it, ladies and gentlemen. That ole home, so many friends and visitors and relatives pass through, eat, sleep, laugh, play, get counselling, comfort. That, to me, is what a home is all about.

And of course, it is a place for discovery.....yeah?

Ta-ta fer now xx

Friday, 22 June 2018

"What doooo you do all day?!?"

Dear Everyone,

How y'all doing?

No, better question...what y'all doing?

For some reason, it does bug people here that they don't know what I do all day. Because, a woman who ain't married don't have nothing to do.

One gal even get upset and ask me in a' almost angry tone, "What doooo you do all day?!?"

Y'know...women here only live to take care of man and children.

"Is only you one, what you got to do so whole day?"

I does want to say, "Well, I does pick me toenails, scrub me heels, I cook and eat whole day."

The 'cook and eat' part they wouldn't believe though, cos I small.

For some reason, if I say I taking care of me health, it does bug people. Like, that is a selfish thing, taking care of y' supposed to be checking up on them, calling them, visiting.

The truth is exactly this though...I been taking care of me...that is, me health.

I learn a good-good lesson these past months after I get sick, asthma, the works.

The whole time while I been sick, I only do the basics.  And I fall into the social media hole, scanning this, scanning that, watching other people play, create, talk, laugh......

Then I realise, Eh-eh, this ain't good at all, at all.

I pick up meself, dust off, and make a list. As some of we here say, Dheeray-dheeray...bit by bit...I start to feel better.

And it dawn on me again that what me best friend in the Whole Wide World say is true. Health should be a priority.

Now, I editing with me heart and soul, walking, observing...

...I gone to buy yoghurt.

Friday, 20 April 2018


Dear Everybody,

I live in a constant state of 'mouth-watering'.

Blame it on the neighbours. From they apartments, I does smell bread, chicken, steak, potatoes, coconut-milk, fish frying... 

I go for a walk, I smell beef curry, chicken curry, cook-up...which is rice and black-eye peas and beef and other stuff in coconut-milk.

Yeah, I know, I don't eat meat cos I can't digest it, but me stomach can't tell me nose what to enjoy, eh? (I ain't a vegan, and I don't believe in stopping people from eating what they want to eat).

(On another the future, when vegans start passing laws left, right and center, perfume-houses gon make scents that smell like food. Imagine. Eau de might even be red). 

I become such a connoisseur, tasting food via me nose, I can smell the garlic, basil, tomatoes; the oil in the curry.

I go to the supermarket or the green grocer that sell fancy imported food, and I walk up and down looking at labels and drooling, then I only buy one, two items. No wonder them security chaps does eye me up with suspicion.

Tomorrow is market-day.

Check out some o' the things I does buy:
A fruit. Sour. Make refreshing drink.

Snack-size banana.

Fruit. I suspect from India. Mix apple-flavour with cheese and some crunch...that's it.

Vegetable. Acquired taste but when you acquire it, you start craving for it.
I so hungry, I can't bear to think about food anymore.

Lunch today is fry okro (okra) and daal and rice.

And daz how I does explore the word, Dear People. If I can't go to exotic places, lemme make where I live exotic, eh?

From here to there & every where. Sometimes nowhere. Every day is an adventure.

See you soon on your blog, xoxo.

Saturday, 7 April 2018

The Manual

Dear Friends,

I finally learning to do some new things on this old-new-recycled laptop.

Which make me think how much time and effort it does take to learn this stuff. I just give birth to ten cows trying to learn to upload photos from iPhone to this piece o' metal here.

Which remind me o' the time I wasn't patient with me dear, darlin' old Ma.

Was a time many moons ago, and plane rides to and from Florida, and flu...flues...viral infection and pillows and a big bed...

... and many cowboy pikchas also known as Westerns in Civilised Language...

...I sit down in me mother room in Florida, looking out at the morning mist, wheezing like a geezer with bronchial infection...

...and I hand-write, hand-draw, a manual for me mother on how to use she tablet, noooo, not the tablet you swallow...the one that load you up on to the Internet. Doing this manual, I think, "Aaaah, me mother gon be like them new-style Oldsters, hip and zipping in Cyber-Space."

To cut a long story short.

She learn how to find songs on YouTube. And how to call people.

But the autocorrect correct she into submission.

Nothing don't defeat me mother though.

She say, "Text you' brother and ask he what time he gon be home so I can call he."

And me, the caring daughter, go into conniptions. Lecturing. Preaching. Trying to teach she how to text.

This year, January 2018, I get a new friend, Epiphany.

Epiphany say, "You! You is a' ungrateful wretch. Remember when you' mother sit on the Internet for two weekends, while you in Guyana and she in Florida, and she teach you how to work out taxes? Remember how you so dunce yet she never once lose she cool with you? What it gon take from you to text you' brother for she? Put that in you' pipe and smoke it, you cow you!"

Shame knock me down for six...

...ooooh, sorry folks, I smelling other people food in this good ol' apartment by the sea, I gone to cook some lunch.......

Now that I know how to get photies on this laptop, we gon have a li'l bit o' fun.

From here to there and everywhere. Sometimes nowhere. Every day is an adventure.