Tuesday 2 July 2024

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


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 


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?

Sunday 16 June 2024

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.

Sunday 2 June 2024

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.

Wednesday 28 June 2023

Holding on to my brain.

Me dear, dear friends and all strangers passing through,

I ain’t forget about you!!

I just been seeing some ning-ning…troubles so dreadful…

…the kind that only a certain type of person could produce…a person without conscience, shame, the type o’ person who take from you, owe you, and walk away without explanation, and leave you wondering how you gon pay you’ bills…

…that it is the kinda ning-ning I been seeing. 

It been building up for some time, then recently, it reach a crAscendo, I write about it here this Sunday gone:


I refuse to get defeated though. I beatin’ me drum, dancin’ to me music.

Hear me here on Caribbean Book of the Day.

Have a wonderful day. I gon try me best to visit you all this Sunday. See you on you’ blog. Take care of you, and I hope you find some good things to gladden you’ heart. Plenty luuuve, neena maiya.

Sunday 4 June 2023

Fangs & Furbellows in the Suburb.

Hello my lovely friends and visitors all,

It is me, the world famous explorer, diving into the life of Suburbia in Florider. 

The world famous explorer, on she walks, smile at strangers. They see a happy li’l creature, a bit on the pale-brown side, wagging and yapping, ready to jump into conversation with them. Even though I have on soft cotton pants or, sometimes, jeans, I know strangers see pretty dan-dan with frou-frou…pretty dress with frills. They see the inner-me.

Lemme introduce you to some o’ these nice strangers. 

Fran and Jeff, young couple from New York. They stop to chat. Fran got skin like cream, and she afro fluff-out, soft-looking, jet-black. She hubby tall, dark-brown, lean, and he smile wide. 

The Mexican man walking he dawg in the morning shade; the pale Jamaican lady with the Montego Bay drawl that make me think ‘bout holidays and beach, boats and strolling downtown with reggae inna me ears; the dark-skin lady with the Georgia twang, washing she 3 cars in she driveway; the elderly Haitian couple; the blonde woman with she pretty blue-eye girl-chile dawdling behind, and she cute toddler in the pram…or stroller as they say in Merca…all these strangers greet me as if I wearing Elie Saab or Chanel, which all o’ we know is appropriate attire for world famous explorers-influencers who pose on mountain-edge.

So why the sour-man, and others like he, barely glance me way? Anybody would think I baring fangs. I never hear a good morning or good afternoon or even a grunt from them. 

One o’ them, I can understand why she ain’t want to say howdy. She big brown dawg dragging she by she right hand. The dawg leaning forward, she slanting backwards. In she left hand, she got a bag full o’ poo. I think I see shame in she eyes. If she from the Caribbean, she got a right to feel shame. Caribbean people don’t pick up dawg poo.

“Pooo,” I say to meself. “Pooo.” I turn up me toffee-nose and head to the big pond that they call lake which smell like fish. Something weird about this pond. Every time I walk past, I does go home smelling like fish. 

I stand at the edge, but not too close…notice, I never say me is Intrepid Explorer…I ain’t want no alligator chase me up a tree and make me lose dignity all over the Internet! (You never know who got a phone ready to film these things.) 

I stand near the pond, gazing like a proper environmental lady at the hot afternoon sunlight glittering and bouncing like a thousand shiny boats on the water. Breeze raise up and lick me hair, lashing it all over me face. How glamorous! Just like in the movies. If this was me film about me, Salma Hayek would be acting as me. 

Time to go home now.

I walk past a car with tint-windows. These windows is nice. When you walk past, you can see you’self and admire.

Me dear!

I nearly holler with dread.

Staring at me in the vehicle-window is a swamp creature, hair in disarray…jabberjastay, to use me mother favourite word. 

I hustle home. A sour-man approach me, wrinkle-up he nose and cross the road.

Suburbia ain’t no easy place, yeah. I got to be Brave. Strong. I got to dispense good advice like a proper world-famous explorer-influencer. 

Walk with a comb and bade with perfume. S’all for now ‘til next time.

Plenty luve, neena.

Sunday 28 May 2023

Home should be a safe place.

My dear friends & all travellers passing by,

A terrible thing…horrific, actually, happen in my lovely native land. 

In Mahdia, a town in the interior of Guyana, eighteen teen girls and one five year old boy die in a raging fire in a school dorm.

The other children who survive, I don’t know what trauma they gon suffer for the rest of they lives. 

This thing trouble me so bad, I decide to share some safety tips I did learn one time. 

(I promise, I got some cheerful things to share next time. I going to do some sewing. I want to visit your blogs. And I want to do some sketches of the art that life show me on me walks. I ain’t a good draw-tist, I gon use me words too.)

Anyway, I hope these tips can help you and friends and fambly:

Your home, safe and sound.

Please take care of you! Remember to eat good food, read a nice book and free you’ mind.

Oh…you can find me here too…I been so busy doing all these things:


Plenty luuuve, neena.