Pathetic Fallacy.

Dear friends…and dear strangers passing through,

In literature they got a term, pathetic fallacy, where you attribute human feelings to non-human things. For example, you say the sun cheerful. Or, the sky grey and sad. 

Pathetic fallacy always fascinate me even though I did find it a bit melodramatic.

Today, I recognise how it work.

The sky really grey today, and I…well, it look like how I feel right now. Even though, plenty times, grey sky make me joyful.

I weeping inside today. Someone I never did meet in person, but I meet via blogger, and was blogging friends for years, pass away.

To me, she was one of the darlings of the blogger-world. She was beautiful…she useta model. She was strong but vulnerable, she had a sense of humour, she been a li’l bit self-deprecating because she was a’ Englishwoman. She been gracious and didn’t like crude behaviour, and she speak she mind. Sometimes, I see meself in some o’ the things she useta say.

I ain’t know how to explain, you ain’t got to meet people in person to have positive feelings about them. You just know. I meet so many lovely people via blogger, I just feel it in me insides, your kindness.

Rest in peace, dearest Pat of patspastimperfect blog. I like to think you’re with your true love once again.

Worm News.

Dear friends and all Strangers passing through,

I ain’t know if you know this but my fascination for earthworms ain’t gone. It travel all the way with me to Florider.

Imagine me joy when I discover fat, juicy ones in the garden of this here abode of me mother.

Just to keep you updated:

Today, after lunch, I dig up t’ree…three…worms and put them in a bottle without a cover. In the bottle I had banana skin. The banana skin been soaking in water for plenty days. I water a pepper plant with it.

I want to see if them worms gon eat the banana skin, grow fat and multiply. I hope they don’t get drunk on fermented banana skin.

I didn’t think I should keep the bottle in the bedroom though so I leave it in the garden.

I really hope the Internet don’t cancel me for cruelty to worms.

I gon check them every day and fill you in on the progress.

Starting again. Again. Again.

Me dear, dear friends travelling by this way, what to say? 

I miss this blog from me heart to the tip o’ me toes. But ever since I find out that Internet Archive does take people writing and drawings and odda tings without permission, I feel cheated.

They should at least ask if we want them to store we mutterings for all of eternity. 

To add more bitterness to the gall, they ask for donations for what they do. They say they providing a service. The “donation” bit get to me especially after the foreign company rob me siblings and me and leave especially me high and dry.

And too besides, I think it is a bit high and mighty of the archivey people to decide they saving we work for eternity. Suppose a body don’t want all bodies snooping around they blog anymore, and the body close they blog like Joey? Who is them archivey people to say you ain’t have a right to keep you’ things to you’self?

See me li’l dilemma?

Anyway, I gon turn me brain and think of ways to blog here.

Lemme go look ‘pon this rice and this bhagee (fresh, thick-leaf, green spinach, the type you can cook) that is on the stove this very minute, lemme check before I burn it…

I coming back just now…

Picture this.

Hello my lovely friends, and hello to all the beautiful strangers passing through!

Guess what! I still got me nose. No insect didn’t nyam…eat…it like me mother say did happen to the pretty lady in she village, after the pretty lady sniff the perfume-roses then insects eat it.

Even better news, no spider ain’t crawl up and build a nest in me brain after I sniff the thyme-flowers where the translucent spider been crawling.

Just in case y’all does wonder where I does get these Amazing Ideas from, lemme tell you loud and clear:

I GOT A CARIBBEAN MOTHER!

Caribbean mothers is a pack o’ different Females. It ain’t matter which part of the world they ancestors did come from originally, Caribbean mothers…more specifically West Indies mothers…see Fear of Things To Come with more colour, vigour, décor an’ detail than all the best writers of the world combine-together.

A Caribbean woman can be normal-normal, doing the things she and she friends enjoy. Around she friends, she is a regular hibicus. Ha! Soon as she sprout out that-there little bud, watch she transform. With she child, she is gardener, hoe, pitchfork, rake and spray. She jump the bed and become policeman and secret service. With time, she become warner walking with a scroll that she spool-out and proclaim bad tidings from. Lord help you if what she predict come true. Then she is jury, judge, and if you unlucky, executioner..

That, me dear, to cut a long story short, is why I got a’ imagination bigger than the belly of the whale that swallow Jonah.

With this imagination, I been gadding about in this foreign place, looking at things, seeing characters and creatures for a children’s story I done write but plan to elaborate.

I also examine pretty things, enjoying them only for what them is…pretty things. Lemme share some with you. Enjoy and see you soon. Love, neena.

“Angel wings jasmine” I’ve been told they’re called.

Angel wings on an old sundial.

I don’t know the name.

Peace lilies.

Fascinated by the brave little plant on the pavement.

Imagine calling this weed and trying to kill it.

A tart fruit that I love…jamoon.

Refreshing my spirit.

Get thee outdoors, they say.

Hello my lovely friends and all strangers passing through!

Sunday morning in this foreign land where my mother dwelling, I decide to trips outside to the front door ESPECIALLY because it grey out there. Who don't love grey? It full o' promise o' rain and thundah and lightning. Drama.

The morning been silent like the whole world still sleeping. Except for one scrawny thrush.

S/he been so joy-full, s/he singing like s/he is the entire band. Like a rock star, s/he leap an' jump. 

On to somebody car top s/he hop

S/he drop a load

Plop

White and wet

Then away s/he fly.

Oh my.

I was really glad it wasn't me. I was double-glad it wasn't me staring up in awe in the trees with me mouth open wide and she drop something then.

Can you imagine?!

Anway, I examine flowers, pull weeds and examine the flowers now turning to seed on the old fat-thyme. I pluck the seeds and flowers off the stalk and hold them in the palm of me hand. Mmmm. It smell heavenly...

...careful, missy, remember the lady you' mother did tell you about, the lady who sniff flowers and a bug eat out she nose?

Is okay, man, is okay, I ain't push me nose right into me hand.

I head back indoors and forget me dilemma. "Here, Ma, check out how this smell so nice."

I decide now to take a pickcha and 

WHAT THE HELL LOOK SOMETHING MOVING LEMME FILM IT TO MAKE SURE IT AIN'T NOTHING OH ME GAWD LOOK IT MOVING IS A SPIDER A THIN PALE ALMOST INVISIBLE SPIDER.

I run into the bathroom throw 'way the pile in the bin and now I praying me and me mother gon still have we noses.

I lie down to contemplate we fate, we future.

The rain splatta pon the window, sky bang the wind, but that ain't nothing compared to the drama in me head.

That was Sunday. So far, we still got we noses.

How y'all doing?

Dressing for the wedding.

Hello lovely friends, hello strangers passing through,

Y'all please help me answer this: how is it that, when you plan to do plenty creative work, that is when family commitments does pop up one-a-minute, like mushroom in the far-off place me sister live, near The Boonkdocks of Florider? 

I know we had a nikkah, that is, a Muslim wedding ceremony, to attend. I plan me clothes, I plan to look eye-catching, not that I want to catch any eye, I want to stay a li'l anonymous so I can people-watch.

Me friend, despite the planning, the day dawn on ignorance. Me ignorance. I already done forget the date. I had a day of activities line-up, I gon sew, read, write. 

"Today is the nikkah," me mother announce.

And, in spite of the planning of what to wear, I realise I ain't had nothing. At Guyanese-Muslim functions, them women does wear gorgeous Eastern garments. The full regalia with embroidery, beads, soft wraps. Elaborate dangly earrings, necklace with intricate designs, bangles, bracelets, shoes to match.

Ask me if I had any nah? Go ahead. Ask.

I dive into me trunkful o' clothes and grab me Western garments I been planning to wear. A slinky skirt with orange and gold pattern, a dull-orange top and me hand painted sandals. The piece de resistance was the necklace from Kenya. Ohhh, how it nice. Red beads, brass-looking beads, and a red pendant with delicate metal work.

"Oh wow, you look nice," me mother gush.

I wait in the living-room for everybody else to step out.

A guest in the house was the first to appear. She was, as they say in them romantic novels, ravishing. She look at me, eyes landing pon me skirt. "You're ready?" Which, me friend, is Guyana-talk for, "You're dressed?"

All in all, I decided I didn’t care about the glitz and glam. I had fun chatting…gyaffing…with people I didn’t know.

I better go take a scrub now, I been puttering around in the garden, I come in the house with Einstein hairstyle pon me head. Next week, I gon tell you about the wonderful farm we been to recently! (In the meantime, don’t forget to dig around here: neenamaiya.substack.com.)

My necklace from Kenya.

Time for good changes.

My lovely friends, if you still pass by this place...

A couple of weeks ago, I had a' epiphany. I realise that I got to start looking for the good in this alien land whilst being caregiver to me Aged Ma.

I been working on me Substack newsletter, Emails From Neena Maiya, which is chock full o' stories from home. No, I ain't dwelling in nostalgia, I am only writing about what I know best...examining life through the people of my country.

I had to think what I want to do with this blog. I ain't want to close it 'cos is a nice way to keep in touch with bloggers. 

Right now, I trying to start up a li'l business. If I only share with you the horror story of what a certain foreign company do in Guyana, you gon cry. 

Long story short, they leave me hanging on with me pockets empty like some politicians' head. So here me is, trying to start up a li'l business. Hopefully, I can use it to help others too.

Okay, thaz all for now. I would really appreciate if you check out my Substack newsletter, I promise you gon have a great time reading especially if you in the loo. Heh.

Cheers for now, xx.