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July 18 Ever Heard of Frozen Shoulder?Okay, so the wrist is coming along fine, but the shoulder isn't, the right shoulder, that is. The surgeon says I've got frozen shoulder. Never heard of such a thing, but I'm sure some people have, especially those who have had serious injury to the arm or hand and have been forced to wear casts. So now I know why I can't raise my arm, not the hand, the arm, slide it to the back, extend it outward, comb my hair, reach above my head, carry a cup of water, brush my teeth. And why I experience excruciating pain in my arm and shoulder muscles. That's from a frozen shoulder, brought on by carrying my hand in a cast for two months, mind you the cast extended to mid-arm. It was heavy and caused a strain on my shoulder and upper arm muscles. Hence the pain, hence the lack of mobility, hence the frozen shoulder. How to fix it? Therapy. Painful, brain numbing exercises which I begin on monday and which I am not looking forward to. Groan. I'm BackIt's good to be back. My wrist is healing wonderfully, my surgeon said yesterday. And my fingers can move again, well not perfectly, but I don't have to rely on one finger on my left hand to type any more. I now have to fix my "frozen shoulder." That's what the doctor called it when I explained to him that I could not move my arms in any direction. Who would have thought. Frozen shoulder, hmmm. More therapy. March 16 Ace That College Application Filling a college application can be frustrating
You thought you'd never get through high school. But you did, with top scores, too. And now you're ready for your next academic challenge. College. But would your stellar academic achievement be sufficient to book a seat in the college of your choice? Not likely. The determining factor in getting that acceptance letter is not a high SAT score but what your application reveals about you. So what does an admissions officer look for in college applications, and how can you get him to send you that acceptance letter. See title in the custom link to the left of the page and read or copy and paste the following link in your browser.
http://www.ehow.com/how_4847834_fill-out-college-application.html
March 02 Sick of Online Grammar Abuse A writer is only as good as the composition he/she writes. And an employer is as good as the employee he hires. But what happens when an employer posts an online ad with bad grammar and incorrect spelling? More importantly, what does it say about the employer, who in the same ad demands that the applicant be a "Native English Spaker," and "Master excellent grammmer?"
I know you're not surprised because you've come across ads with countless errors before. This one was placed in an advertisement on Craigslist yesterday. The potential employer was inviting applications for an IM Writer. And according to the creator of the ad: "We are looking for passion writer for Internet Marketing Niche full time." Passion writer? What the heck is a passion writer? Jesus! Who wants to apply to such a sloppy post? Not me. And the author had the audacity to demand that applicants be creative "with" writing as well as excellent grammar. I wonder what standard he'll use to judge that.
Craigslist is not the only place where poorly written ads are being advertised. It's every where on the internet, like a stinking virus. And it irks me when I am forced to read online content crammed with spelling errors, bad grammar, missing punctuations and poor sentence construction. This appears to be the norm with a majority of online blogs and articles posted from a new breed of writers calling themselves citizen journalists, not to mention the proliferation of personal space pages with horrifying grammatical and spelling errors. Grrrrr. Grrrrr. Grrrrr. I cringe whenever I think of the horrifying misuse of the English Language.
Why should I, or anyone else, have to suffer bad writing when the writers themselves take no pride in their work or how they are perceived by readers and visitors to their spaces? What's even more laughable, is that they expect us to invest time into reading their work, when they themselves spare no time to check their spellings, or to read over their work to identify stupid errors. Folks if you want to write at least try to get the spellings correct. Copy it from your seven-year-old if you have to, but stop punishing us with bad writing.
Hello, people. Ever heard of a dictionary, a thesaurus, a punctuation guide? Get one! And use it when you write. Have some dignity, especially when attempting to advertise your academic aptitude online. That way you won't be laughed at and readers won't be forced to "fox or email, indicated your email account, please send me your covering letter, this is for the use market," among other silly errors.
A word of advice: You may be able to write your name and address, and spell every word correctly, but that does not make you a writer. But if you really want someone to read what you write, even if it's a simple sentence, then learn how to write it properly. Enough said.
February 26 CSI New York Blunders If you saw CSI New York last night, you must have been just as surprised as I was about the big 911 blunder. And the producers thought we would not have noticed it. They must take us for new century fools, the sort of things they throw at us in movies and think we're too stupid to notice.
In Wednesday night's show, Enrico, the killer, made a 911 call stating that his sister had been beaten. "I need help, please, I need help, my sister was beaten. Ayudame, por favor. Ayudame, por favor." (Forgive me for the missing accent on the e...there's no way to insert it from the blog box.) But when Mack and Stella listened to the tape every word was in English. The same voice, same call, but no Spanish. How could they have missed that? It was so glaring. Blunder. Blunder. Blunder. February 25 Homes for Slumdog Child Stars Some are ecstatic, some are ashamed, some are hopeful, and some tearful.
Mixed emotions from Indians on the success of Oscar winner, Slumdog Millionaire, the cross cultural British produced movie that grabbed eight statuettes at the 81st Academy Award, Sunday night.
The happiest of all, and perhaps the two biggest winners, are first time child actors Rubina Ali and Azharuddin Ismail. They played the young roles of the movie's lead characters, Latika and Salim. Slumdog, centered around a poor Indian boy competing for love and money on India's version of the TV game show, Who Wants to be a Millionnaire.
While Indians are mixed in their views regarding the showcasing of India's slum life and the use of the term slumdog as offensive, Gautam Chatterjee, head of the state-run Maharashtra Housing and Area Development Authority, has pledged two homes to the young stars. "These two children have brought laurels to the country, and we have been told that they live in slums, which cannot even be classified as housing," he said, but didn't say in which area the homes were except that the apartments were near a "prime location." Ali, 8, lives in the slum, in a small hovel amid huge piles of garbage near the railway tracks in Mumbai. In the same slum, Ismail's home has a polythene sheet for a roof. Both homes are near open sewers and have no running water. For their roles in the movie, the children were paid above local Indian wages and were enrolled in school for the first time. A fund has been set up to pay for their education, medical emergencies and "basic living costs." Fox Searchlight Pictures, the 20th Century Film Fox studio that backed the movie, paid for visas, travel and accommodation for nine children who had roles in Slumdog Millionaire, to fly to Los Angeles for the Oscars. February 23 Slumdog, the Bull Dog at the Oscars BRITISH RULE OSCARS
From Mumbai's slums to Hollywood's ritzy red carpet they came, smiles brighter than the glittering diamonds draped over the stars to share the glory for their portrayal in 2008's biggest movie, Slumdog Millionaire. It was a movie that almost didn’t make it to the big screen. But brilliance cannot be suppressed, and the passion that went into every scene, found its way into theatres for all to judge and acclaim, thanks to saviour Fox Searchlight.
Nominated for ten of the twenty four prestigious awards, Slumdog Millionaire beat out The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, Milk, Frost/Nixon and The Reader, to cop the coveted Best Picture statuette. Aptly named The Academy Award of Merit, the golden Oscar is bestowed to winners for the highest achievement in Filmmaking. It is also the most recognized trophy in the world and since 1929 has graced the homes of the greatest filmmakers in history. It has now embraced the likes of the British Film Industry with its cross-cultural Indian movie, Slumdog Millionaire, and the musical artistry of Bollywood great, A. R. Rahman. Slumdog showcased the stink of poverty in India, the dilemmas of a young man growing up in the slums and the tender love of two orphans. A movie stripped of eroticism and sex. It symbolized the importance of love over money. It was a deserving win for a cast and crew that aimed at the mountain top and landed on the clouds. To see Bollywood dancers and singers perform on stage at the Kodak Theatre, Los Angeles, at the 81st Academy Awards was indeed a historical milestone for India. But it was really an achievement for the British Film Industry, which made Slumdog, the bull dog at the Oscars. Director, Danny Boyle, was still in awe when he and Slumdog stars, Dev Patel and Freida Pinto appeared on Oprah’s After the Oscar’s show, the next morning. Patel and Pinto quickly dismissed rumours of a budding romance between them, stating that it was their first feature film and they were just good friends. A.R. Rahman and a group of Bollywood dancers ended the show with Slumdog’s Oscar winning song, “Jai Ho,” which means, Victory to All. It also won best directing, best song, best music score, best film editing, best sound mixing, best cinematography and best adapted screenplay. Although it was shot partly in the slums and commercial capital in Mumbai, the film was in no way connected with Bollywood, the Indian Film Industry. The heavy lifters were all British: director Boyle, screenwriter Simon Beaufoy, and Britain’s Film4. Slumdog’s overnight success was phenomenal. The low budget film was made with $15 million and has grossed more than $159m (£109m) worldwide, with $98m at the US box office. According to Oprah, it was the little movie that couldn’t, but it did. Jai Ho. February 21 No Longer Single It's been a while since I posted. To update my loyal readers: I am no longer a single woman. I got married to a great man. His name is Edison Herrera, originally from Colombia, but living in the United States of America for the past forty five years. As most of you may have guessed, I am originally from the twin-island republic of Trinidad and Tobago, now living and studying in the US. Marriage hasn't changed me, I am still the free spirited woman I was before, except now I share it with my husband. Of course, he shares his free time with me. It was quite an adjustment, but it's an enjoyable one. Each day we learn new things about ourselves, and it's all good. So each day becomes a new adventure of exploring ideas, discussing finances, planning the next step in our future, lolling around the house when we have down time, cuddling in front the television, taking turns watching what each other likes and building a wonderful marriage, one day at a time. The most exciting thing is introducing him to the Trini culture. I must say, being a former soldier, he is certainly adventurous and digs into the Trini dishes with relish, but they have to be prepared without hot peppers. Haven't gotten him t touch that stuff yet, oh well, there's a lot more to Trini culture than hot and spicy food. Perhaps next year, I'll fly him down to Trinidad and teach him how to chip to calypso and wail in a Carnival band, roll his waistline to chutney music, light a deeya for divali, and shake to parang, and then take him to Maracas Beach to cool down. Maybe. September 25 Branding and Appeal Monday, September 8, 2008When Branding is All about AppealCatchy jingles, fancy packaging and captivating slogans give brands their appeal. By Cambridge Who’s Who Contributing Author Susan Gosine  When I was a young child, I enjoyed listening to catchy product jingles. Sometimes I would jerk myself awake just so that I could hum along. When I went to the supermarket, I’d zero in on one of the brands I was familiar with and insist on only having that one. With the product clutched in my hands like a prize, I felt like I’d been visited by Santa Claus on Christmas morning.More than three decades later, the melodies of popular jingles still chime inside my head, and I find myself reaching eagerly for the products associated with them while shopping. But it’s not just about the jingle; it’s about the brands that the jingles promote and the perception that the featured products are really the best of the lot. Such is the power of branding: it fosters an automatic acceptance of a product or service that, by the consumer’s deduction, surpasses all others. Branding can be as effective as a dollar sale or as ineffective as cold soup in a blizzard. It’s a powerful force that influences behavior and attitude and compels consumers to pay exorbitant prices to possess the related product. It can boost or cripple a company, product or service. When thinking of branding one has to consider what appeals to consumers’ pockets, minds and egos. Branding, then, can be easily confused with marketing and advertising. So, what exactly is branding? In order to understand the concept of branding one must first learn what a brand is. While there are many different definitions of a brand, Merriam Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary defines it as, “a class of goods identified by name as the product of a single firm or manufacturer.” The American Marketing Association classifies it as “a name, term, design, symbol or any other feature that identifies one seller’s good or service as distinct from those of other sellers.” It further states that “the legal term for brand is trademark,” and that “a brand may identify one item, a family of items or all items of that seller.” If used to describe a firm as a whole the preferred term is trade name. Thus, a brand can be a name, a logo, image, idea, design, slogan or jingle, owned by the company or person that conceives it. Branding creates the foundation needed to market a brand, get it recognized and increase its profitability. Advertisers use the name, idea, logo, design and image associated with the chosen brand to formulate advertisements to convince the target audience that the product or service is the only solution that meets its needs. Branding, therefore, is designed to capture the imagination and to influence and convince consumers of their need to purchase a particular product or service. Symbols, logos, slogans and jingles are powerful branding tools. They help to assert a product or service’s position in the marketplace. Many companies and products have become household names through branding. Philip Kotler describes branding as “a seller’s promise to deliver a specific set of features, benefits and services consistently to the buyers.” Branding, then, is only truly effective when it begins to influence consumer behavior, taste, choice and spending habits. Sometimes branding can take several years before it creates a noticeable impact in people’s psyche. This is particularly true in today’s competitive marketplace where several brands exist for each product. In this age of technological advancement, branding holds its own on the Internet by commanding a great deal of online commerce and attention. Compelling slogans, blinking logos and mesmerizing images grace countless websites in an attempt to provoke visitors to purchase “sought after” products and services. However, branding is not truly successful until a consumer reaches casually into his pocket and purchases a product based on its packaging and appeal alone. When branding rakes in the money, that’s when it’s hard at work.
Cambridge Who's Who Contributing Author Susan GosineBiography
September 05 Soca Star Machel Montano in Court for BrawlClaimant testifies against Machel BRANDIS Brown, one of the men who was allegedly beaten by soca superstar Machel Montano and three others outside the Zen nightclub last year, testified once again yesterday before Magistrate Maureen Baboolal-Gafoor in the Port of Spain Fifth Court. Brown sat in the witness box for close to five hours-the only break period being between 12 and 1 p.m, when the court paused for lunch. He was questioned by Special State Prosecutor, Dana Seetahal SC, who is representing Montano, about the exact details as to what happened the night he was alleged to have been beaten by the quartet. He was also asked if he could recall an incident at another party a few months later, where he was involved in an incident with another group of men. Brown said yes. Larry Williams, who is representing Joel "Zan" Fezeck, also questioned the witness. It was alleged that Montano, along with Fezeck, Kernel Roberts and Rodney "Benjai" Le Blanc, assaulted Russell Pollonais and Brandis Browne on April 26 last year outside the Zen nightclub at Keate Street, Port of Spain. Montano faces an additional charge of using obscene language. The matter will continue on September 15.
April 24 Judge Still Undecided About Burka
April 09 Burka Debate in CourtTo show her face or not? That is the question before the High Court in Trinidad concerning Muslim women's right to wear the Burka while serving as jurors. The issue flared in the Fifth Court last year when a potential female juror refused to lift her Burka, as was requested by the presiding Judge Justice Joan Charles, during the jury selection process. The potential juror refused citing religious reasons. But that did not satisfy the court. It was uncomfortable with the woman concealing her face for a criminal trial. When further questioned by the Judge about her refusal to lift the Burka she said she could not comply with such a request. She was not selected to sit on the panel for the trial and was discharged from jury service on December 12.
And Justice Charles is holding counsel to decide whether the court has the power to order the Burka to be lifted or if there are legal bases for doing so. The debate between senior counsels Christopher Hamel-Smith representing the Attorney General and Fyard Hosein for the Bar Association begins on April 16.
The question is: Does a Muslim female juror have the right to preside in a criminal trial while wearing a veil (Burka) concealing her identity? The woman in question was debarred from performing her civic duty because her religion does not permit her to show her face in public. Is it discrimination? How should one address such an issue with the diversity of cultures present in the country and in other countries around the world? It would be a violation of her religious beliefs to force her to submit to the court's request. But does that make her less worthy of her performing her civil duty? Share your comments. April 04 All FoolsWhen my cell phone rang early Tuesday morning, my day off, I thought it was my employer. Instead, my friend Danielle wanted a favour. I hopped out of bed, took a hurried bath and dashed off to JFK International Airport to meet her. She was returning to New York from Switzerland after an absence of three years. “A surprise for my parents’ anniversary,” she said. “I’m surprised,” I replied. “When did you decide about this planned visit?” “I know how it looks, but I really wanted to surprise everyone and this seemed like the perfect opportunity. Besides, Petra was supposed to meet me at the airport but she bailed. She has something urgent that needed taking care of, she figured since it was your day off you wouldn’t mind.” “Oh. Who gave her authority over my time? I could have plans, did she think about that? What about the others, they know you’re visiting?” “No.” “Hmmm.” “So, do you?” “What?” “Have plans?” “Not really. I sleep on my day off; that’s how I get to catch up. My life couldn’t be more exciting. So what time is touch down?” “In a few.” “What the heck, you mean like a few minutes from now?” “The pilot said we should be there in half an hour and all cell phones will have …” “Half … wait a minute. You’re telling me you’re hovering above New York right now?” “Something like that.” “Crap. Get off the phone woman. I’m on my way. Meet you in baggage.” “No. Arrivals. Gotta go, pilot has just called for cell phones to turn off. See yah.”
I live in Rockaway, a-twenty-minute drive from JFK airport. I made it in ten, zipping and zapping in and out of traffic as if Dr. Doom was chasing me. I was anxious to see Danielle. She had married a Swiss sweetie and migrated with her beau. Now she was returning and I wanted to learn about her new life in Zurich. Since I was picking her up, I’d hear it first. The rest of the gang, Myra, Petra, Ana, Leslie and Margareta, would get stale news.
I hit the airport entrance, secured a park as close to the exit as possible and hastened to Arrivals. I checked the schedule and waited. I watched every face exiting Arrivals and wondered when Danielle would show. Perhaps she had a lot to declare at customs, I sighed, and waited and waited and waited. Half an hour … forty-five minutes passed. I called Danielle. Her voicemail greeted me. I waited a few minutes and called again. Voicemail. My stomach rumbled. I called Petra.
“Has Danielle called? It’s near an hour and I haven’t seen her. You think something’s wrong?” “You don’t know?” Petra asked. “Know what?” My heart faltered. An image of Danielle sick on the touch down flashed through my mind. She always hated landings. “Something happened to Danielle? What?” Petra laughed. “It’s not Danielle, silly.” I could hear uproarious laughter in the background. “What’s going on?” “Turn around and you’ll find out.” I swiveled. They were all there, except for Danielle. The laughter was deafening. But the worst was when Ana handed me her cell phone and Danielle shouted “April Fool,” into my ear. Shomocks! It's April 1, 2008. I could have kicked each of them, after kicking myself first. Everyone in Arrivals laughed. They had figured out the prank. My anger melted and I doubled over laughing at my stupidity. They had caught me, again. It was the prank of the day. I lost precious sleep, but got breakfast and lunch in the process. And Danielle, she laughed her head off over the phone. I planned to stick a note on my mirror to remind me not to get pranked next year.
December 14 Dear Mother, Who Are You?My mother died last Sunday. I was thousands of miles away when life left her body. I was saddened by the news of her death and cried some, but not because I would miss her but because I didn't know her, well not in the way a daughter should know her mother; no shared secrets, special moments, no funny or sad times. As deep as I searched my past I could not find one memory of her; one big blank page resides where memories of her should. I don't know what idiosyncrasies, if any, I share of her's, if I walk like her, talk like her or smile like her. My dad used to say I looked like her. He too, died while I was thousands of miles away. That was near three years ago. Who was this woman that all the laws of the universe said was my mother? I don't know the day of her birth, nor the year. I've never celebrated special occasions with her and never once seen her on my birthday. I cannot recall her voice, her smile, nor her scent. The last time I saw her was 21 years ago, and only briefly, when I stopped off at my grandparents' place; she had visited unexpectedly. Before that, not at all. She and my father had separated before I started creeping. I have an elder sister and brother. When my aunt, the mother that I know, telephoned with news of my mother's death, I said: "I don't know how to react to that." She replied: "She was your mother." That's when I felt melancholic, a sudden disconnection from the woman who had given birth to me. A kinship that no longer existed. When someone gives birth to you they don't necessarily give you life. That responsibility my mother had passed on to my uncle and aunt and she had disappeared from my life taking whatever childhood memory I may have gathered. Biologically, she was my mother. Realistically she had failed at the role of motherhood. When my aunt ended the phone call she said: "I love you." And I realised I had never heard those words from my mother. I never will. So who was my real mother? November 15 PNM in Power, Panday is PissedThe elections are over, Patrick Manning has been returned to power, Winston Dookeran won no seats and Basdeo Panday is pissed. Thus the Mockumentary of the 2007 general elections in Trinidad and Tobago.
Within minutes of conceding defeat the only sore loser, Basdeo Panday, spat venom at all citizens who did not vote for his beloved UNC-A and more so those who voted for newcomer, COP, led by his one time party leader, Dookeran. He called down rape, murder, kidnapping and shame on the people because he cyar take the licks. And he expects our support for such a disgusting and shameful display of how a statesman should never behave on national stage. And to which he has not apologised since. He gallantly followed up with a retort of "ah gonna give them hell," when he was appointed Opposition Leader. Nothing about endeavouring to help those members of the electorate who still harbour blind faith in his leadership. Steeups. He thought he could have won the elections with such a demoralising track record. Instead he has denigrated and belittled the electorate by thinking they'd dismiss his shortcomings, lower their standards and embrace him as the new Prime Minister, because he's Basdeo Panday, Rajah of grassroots Trinidad. The electorate responded swiftly. From the start he was on a personal power trip against Manning, and when Manning blazed him at the polls he turned rabid. Like a venomous viper he lashed out venting his bitterness and rage on a stunned population. The man blamed everyone for his failure except himself. After three losses, it's time to look internally, Mr. Panday. Besides, if he had done a good job when he was Prime Minister, he would not have had to beg for a second term. Based on that example, I say, Thank God he didn't win. For his behaviour has shamed all of us whose hearts had once swelled with pride when for the first time in the history of Trinidad and Tobago politics an Indian had ascended to the highest office in the country. Sadly, he couldn't leave the rum and gutter behind. Still, better the devil you know than the devil you don't. If statesmanship was the deciding factor in the race at the polls, then Manning deserves his win and Panday, well, he'll have to make himself comfortable in the bed he so bitterly spread. Now, lets back up here a bit for the benefit of those uneducated in the politics of the country. Here is a classic example of cut-throat politics. Dookeran, former Governor of the Central Bank, was hand-picked by Panday to lead the UNC when he feared he would be jailed for corruption. He did not want to leave the party leaderless, so he stepped outside the caucus to find the most suitable replacement, Dookeran. And while wallowing in a jail cell for two days he hastily penned a resignation from the party leadership, claiming he would act as a consultant if the membership required his input. But when he realised things were looking favourable in the court, he made an about face and strongly opposed Dookeran's appointment. And the honourable Dookeran unable to deal with Panday's mauvais langue, tendered his resignation from the UNC and gave birth to COP. Well that fueled Panday's hate. In his delirious mind he somehow figured Dookeran for a coonoomoonoo (stupid person), expecting him to go home and wait for death by old age. So Panday immediately rescinded his resignation, jumped back into the fray, grabbed leadership, welcomed back Ramesh Maharaj and crippled the party at the polls. In his greed for power he skillfully baited the helplessness and in some instances the illiteracy of the grassroots people. But then the masses spoke and he catch malkadee one time, throwing fit after fit after fit. And then like the little boy who stood in his shoes and wondered, Panday, wondered how he could have lost? It's that very behaviour that caused his downfall and will continue to do so until he stops wallowing in self pity, bow out of politics, and stop shaming the country. Enough said. Following is Panday's response to his loss at the polls. Taken from the Trinidad Express Newspaper. Everyone except the people who voted on Monday for the United National Congress Alliance, will be responsible for the murders, rapes, kidnappings and robberies that will happen in the coming five-year rule of the People's National Movement, a bitter Basdeo Panday told the nation in a shocking concession speech early yesterday morning. And those who voted for the Congress of the People (COP) should hang their heads in shame, because they prevented the UNC-A from winning the election, he said. Preliminary figures show that over 148,000 people voted for the COP, over 194,000 for the UNC-A and over 299,000 for the PNM. Some 350,000 people did not vote. The statements came during an address to supporters who came to Rienzi Complex, Couva, to party Monday night, but ended up stumbling back to their cars, some in tears, others vowing vengeance. Rienzi Complex had been prepared for a victory party, complete with confetti and cranes, rum and roti, but the music was switched off and the Indian dance entertainers never made it to the stage. Instead, organisers went to television coverage of the election, and sent the crowd wild when the victory speech of the PNM's political leader was broadcast. When Panday spoke after midnight, he had fewer than 200 people to hear him. He introduced his daughter, Mickela Panday, the winning candidate for Oropouche West, announced the election result, and claimed it was really the people who had lost and the mafia which had won. "When you look at the results tonight, you will see that if the COP had not divided the votes, that the PNM would not be in the government today. The UNC would be in government today," he said. Panday added: "Those who voted for the PNM, those who voted for the COP and those who did not vote at all, they are the ones responsible for the fear and the crime, corruption and incompetence, malice and discrimination which this country will have to endure for another five years." To those who cast their ballots for the COP, Panday said, "I want to say, every time one of your family or friend is murdered, kidnapped, robbed, raped, I want you to go and stand up in front the mirror and look at yourself. Look at your face. That is what I want you to do. Then I want you to hold your hands together and prayer. You are responsible because you have voted for the PNM and COP, or not at all." November 01 Follow Fashion Trinis
Brakesin' from the grave Keith Smith Thursday, November 1st 2007
This country good, yes. Halloween! Listen, apropos of something else I wrote my friend Laini, who is in the United States, that Trinidad and Tobago's best bet would be to apply to become the 51st state, Aime Cesaire right in his finding that when two states find themselves side by side, or near enough anyway, the culture of the one that is technologically superior eventually supersedes the other. Look, I know that Carnival was brought here and Christmas was brought here and Divali was brought here and Eid was brought here, but they were brought in a particular historical context (slavery, indentureship, colonialism). Pray tell me, though, in what historical context we are bringing Halloween here unless it is the new American imperialism, the notion quite absurd since no imperialist is pushing anything on us. In this case we pushing it upon ourselves because we find it nice, I suppose. I suppose, too, I had better be careful about that "we" there since, as far as I can make out, the wash-yuh-foot-and-jump-in Trini Halloweeners are as yet still a minor minority, made up of a privileged sub-set, making out that they are as American as Americans, not even Trinis living over there embracing witches and warlocks and other of their creepie-crawlies. A minority, I insist, but watch it, in Trinidad these things have a way of crawling up on you and the next thing you know we'll be halloweening in the north, halloweening in the south, halloweening in the east and not just in the west, pumpkins with slits for eye-holes and candles, deyas even!, for lights strung along the East-West Corridor, the unwary going to 'Grande and bouncing up grinning gargoyles and kids with Adidas knapsacks advancing on you and asking - asking? not in these times - aggressively demanding: "Trick or treat,'' aging you now, knowing neither the lingo nor the lime, retrieving from your colonial memory the line "your money or your life," diving in your pants pocket not for a sweetie (candy for you American-Trinis) but for your wallet, the poor children suddenly made richer, poor you not knowing better. I exaggerate, of course, as I usually do when I find myself under the foreign culture gun, not that I don't know - and, painfully at that! - that everything is just about everything in this globalised world that has no use for little islands any more, the exaggeration deliberately done to drum up the "TA" (translated into "Trinidad Army" as in "DA" which, as all JK Rowling's Harry Potter fans now know translates into Dumbledore's Army (if you have to borrow, borrow from England, avoid American!)), the Trinidad army called to a if-yuh-cyar-beat-them-join-them mission - if Halloween is what the west wants, well, we go Trinidadianise Halloween for them. So out with your witches and wizards and goblins and gargoyles and their lot and in with our douens and diablesses, Papa Bois more than prepared to come to the defence of the lore of our folk, we Trinis ready to match them scare for scare - come line up your pumpkins under this silk cotton tree, that chilling cackling you hearing coming from Mama Loa but don't bother with tha' one, just strengthen your courage, with a shot or six of strong puncheon rum making you think that you only think what you seeing is a seta jumbies carrying parasols as if the jungle have sun. All Saints and All Souls, small kids running 'round the cemetery in San Juan, not hunting no treat but playin' how they brakesin from the grave, this one and that one telling this one and that one how they foot go fall off because look how yuh walking on the dead man who, when he was alive, was so bad that mothers used to use him to threaten their children about being good, that is, when they not telling them startling stories made more scary in the flickering flames - long time - of the kerosene lamps, the old "Kitch'', he now dead and gorn too, remembering those tales and telling us 'bout the time when he carry a gyul in the cemetery (and, you know, people does still do that in dese bandit-gunning times!) when a ghost, O lard! invite him to come leh them play a game ah card. Man, yuh talk 'bout run!
October 31 Petty Politics and Tit for TatNomination papers have been filed, politicians are buzzing like drones and the country is tottering under the violence and bloodshed marring the elections campaign. Thus continues the mockumentary of Trinidad and Tobago's run up to the 2007 general elections to be held on November 5. The supporting cast is in place. The smear campaign is in full swing and the chief characters Prime Minister Patrick Manning (PNM) and co-leader of the UNC Alliance Basdeo Panday are the bobbolees to beat at the polls. Some predict that COP's Winston Dookeran could be the spoiler in the race for political power. Already tempers have flared, vandals have attacked party offices and blood has been shed. Allegations are flying like dust in the wind and politicians are more concerned with taking pot shots at each other evoking anger and resentment rather than attempting to quell the brewing storm. Gutter politics has become the campaign's spiciest dish. And the prodigal, Ramesh Maharaj's return to the UNC's fold has sparked fire in Manning's heart. Yes, the same Ramesh who Manning confessed conferred with him, in a shoo shoo session in 2000 to destabalise the UNC government while, he, Ramesh was still Attorney General. How Panday must have cringed to hear such a candid confession? But, too late, the pappy show has begun and Panday did say "the past is the past." Grinning like the Cheshire cat Manning publicly announced that Ramesh had given him photos of a million dollar condo in London which Panday owned. The news had crippled the UNC in 2000. Ramesh was eventually kicked out of the party but has since returned. Manning's tattle rattled Ramesh. But he eh take that, he swung a hefty backlash at Manning alleging that a mysterious envelope landed in his mail box with evidence showing Manning owns a luxurious home in Germany. Shamelessly he tried to justify his shame. When Manning professed that Ramesh is his best friend. Ramesh said: "He lie, he lie, he lie. The man is a liar." As election day approaches Manning warns against Opposition trickery, UNC accuses the Sanathan Dharma Maha Sabha (SDMS) of intimidating voters towards COP, SDMS bawl is a lie. Now Panday and Jack Warner's visit to South Africa to meet with Nelson Mandela has become a political football on the husting. The politics of he say so but it eh so rages...another chapter in the mockumentary. If it were not for my country's political stability I would laugh out loud at this bunch of jokers and their jokey politics. God forbid, on election day a life is lost in the casting of ballots for a particular political party those selfish politicians will have to bear the burden for inciting anger and divisive politics in the hearts of a people whose desire is only for democracy and a caring government. I look back and wonder what has become of my country? Immortalised in song by King David Rudder as Sweet Sweet TNT (Trinidad and Tobago). Has it lost its sweetness? Or has this Caribbean paradise become lost in the greedy grab for political power? October 10 Politics and Politricks: A Country's Dilema on Stage If you've been following the build up to the general elections in Trinidad and Tobago you would have noticed that it's more about politricks rather than politics, about personal vendetta, mud slinging and juggling tactics than about the welfare of the electorate. If you're a Trini, then you're quite aware of the politics of the country.
In truth, it's like a mockumentary, yes mockumentary, gone bad from the first time the producer yelled "action." The actors, themselves veterans, insist on remaining the chief characters. It appears that they have grown too old for revised lines and have lapsed into rhetoric as old as the country's political system; not to mention ad-libbing, ad-hocing and mocking. It's as if The Lord of the Rings, sorcerer Saaron has cast a wicked spell over the embattled leaders causing them to be grumpier than Grumpy Men, Jack Lemmon and Walter Matthau, only they're not fighting for the affections of a woman but for political power, the right to represent the electorate. With the pie piping and the electorate in a frenzy, many parties have jumped into the fray intending only to pool the country's runway politics into some semblance of order, they, however, will inadvertently split votes come election day on November 5. The mockumentary continues with the chief characters attempting to outshine each other in eloquence and speechifying. On the hustings they go nightly, shouting promises that will disintegrate like embers in the wind when the last vote is counted. Music, rum and food woo voters like ants to a scrap. A country's dilema on stage. Who will win? It's anybody's guess. What will the changes be, if any? That too, is anybody's guess. After all, it's only in Trinidad politics, the political leader of a party can retire and reinstate himself, albeit if only to share power with another, dual leadership they call it. Is it really to answer the peoples' call as he claims, or is it some selfish desire to once again nestle in the Prime Minister's seat or to prove a point to a powerful opponent? Stay tuned to find out who the chief characters are in this Mockumentary. Send a response if you think you know the answer.
September 10 A Joint and Coffee
A most unusual thing happened to me on Sunday morning. I'm always prepared for the unexpected but this one was a real juggernaut. I was on my way to meet a girlfriend at 2nd Avenue to collect some documents. As I exited the subway station on Bowery I walked a few paces to the intersection looking for 2nd Avenue and Houston Street as she had indicated. While graciously standing there attempting to figure out my bearings, this young white guy, yes guy, decently dressed, in royal blue floral shirt (kind of girly come to think of it) and wearing blue denim pants, sauntered up. He looked no more than 20, spaghetti thin with a well trimmed moustache and blue eyes. I coulden't say where he came from for I hadn't noticed him before, but the soft "good morning" drew my attention and I turned to face the greeter. He was so close I had to step several paces backwards for comfort. I returned the greeting. And he said: "Can I ask you something?" Immediately I thought, he's going to ask me directions and I don't even know the locality, except the route Ava, my friend had mapped for me. He was wearing a wrist watch so I deduced that he didn't want to know the time,. Something I got from my relationship with the fictional character Sherlock Holmes. "Yes," I replied. And what came next was completely unexpected. The man had the audacity to ask me: "Would you like to smoke a joint?" I was apoplectic. I recovered instantaneously and wanted to throttle him but I help my hands. "Sorry, I don't do drugs," I replied and turned away. "How about a cup of coffee, then?" "Unbelievable," I huffed. "Why would I want to have coffee with you. It's only 8 a.m. and you're jittery for a joint." "Sorry, but I'm a little f-----d up in the head," he said. "Where are you going? I'll walk with you." "I don't need company." "I think the man at the corner is looking at you funny. I'll walk with you, that way he won't try anything." I looked at the man: He was standing at the corner when I arrived. He was only waiting for his girlfriend, who came hustling up the street apologising for her lateness. The greeter laughed at his own stupidity. I didn't think it was funny. I turned and walked away and the goon was still asking if he could accompany me. Eh, eh, not in this life, crack head. Anyway 2nd Avenue was alongside Houston, across the street. I found Ava's house between 9th and 10th street and we had a good laugh about the spranger who sought to smoke a joint with me. I wonder what would have been his reaction had I whipped out my cell phone and called 911...after all I've got it on speed dial. You just never know what sort of rencontre you'll have on the streets of New York.
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