My lovely friends & dear visitors passing through,
I been thinking, I got a roof over me head, food in me belly, songs in me ears and me heart.
Ahhh yes, I line-up all me cliches to remind me that I gon push through and get to where I want to be creatively.
When life knock me with a glitch, I does hibernate into meself and fret. But after a day or two, I does uncurl outta meself and let the sunshine spread energy into me.
It was this habit that help me when I leave the gorgeous Island, that jewel of the Caribbean, to return home to me poor li'l native land (which they say was one o' the poorest countries for a long stretch o' time).
At home, I realise this: if poor people, the unfortunate ones, can rise above hard circumstances, who is me, with a much better life, to keep meself from rising above tough situations?
For quite a few years, I been thinking about this, scribbling me thoughts in a note pad. This Sunday gone, I share them on Substack.
This is what I write, with the title: It ain't paradise, but it can be damn nice.
How you do, nah? (As we would say in my lovely native land.)
I’m gearing up for the paper version of book one. Soon after that will come book two, also based on life in Guyana. You will meet more characters and, on occasion, you’ll come upon situations which, hmmm, let me say: some of it ain’t pretty.
I’m caught between those people who like to believe that we dwell in paradise and those who swear it’s a blazing little hell. After moving back home, I spent the first year fighting that heat, literally and figuratively - El Niño and plenty hot-up feelings…vexation and disappointment. As time passed, I experienced moments, days, of utter bliss, then the sufferings of those I’m close to would pull me back to a sad reality.
Returning home humbled me and taught me stuff (I gag at the word “lessons”) that I’d love to share with you.
Celebrate what you already have. If you're pushing mud out of the yard, when you pause to rest for a minute, listen to the wind; see the sparkles of light in the small pools of water at your feet.
Sit with the people who clean, the maids, the janitors, the gardeners, eat with them, talk. Walk with the poor, look and learn from them. Observe how they deal with troubles, and how they laugh despite their sorrows. Dry their tears by helping them in any way you can. One smile from you can lift the downcast spirit of another.
Life is exactly what you're living right now. It can be horribly, achingly dull, but it can be exciting even in its dullness...or maybe it can’t be, eh? You may never go travelling across the seas to exotic destinations. But this here, what you have right now, is your opportunity to carve and groove, draw and colour and forge delicate art with the heat.
I going now to catch a li'l stroll in the afternoon light, me friends. Take care of you, keep sharing the beauty that you encounter, the humour, the play, the art you make. Plenty love, neena.
