Friday, July 29, 2016

Frog or Prince?

“Ooooh, lookah this li’l frog, oooh, he so cute, ow, he cute and small like a button.”

Yeah, that is what I did think when I first spot he, the li’l water-frog, as we call them. Some folks call them house-frog.  They don’t bite or do anything savage.  All they do is look cute and live in the kitchen.

On top of all that, they becoming a rare event. Like they becoming extinguished or something, not that I know how you can extinguish something that have water in it.

Anyway, being Earth Lover and all that, I let he stay.

And I let he stay because of the good memories I have of them, like the time my first big brother put ice down my mother dress-back and she scream cos he tell she is a water-frog, haha.

But then this here frog start to behave bad.

He get bold, staring at me. Coming right out in public and ogling.  Alright, I ignore the ogling even though it make me a li’l uncomfortable.

Then, he start to poo.  And when I tell you poo, I should write that with big capital P, no, the whole word should be Big Capital Letters. He start to POO.

Vexation lick me sideways and backwards. “Oh yeah? That is what you think you coming in me kitchen to do? Woo and POO? Woo who with POO? I don't care what you think, I ain't want no wooing or weeing in me kitchen!”

Nah nah nah, y’all don’t dis me as in disrespect me this good day here, don’t tell me to buy nappy or diapers as some call it.

Seriously, tell me, what you woulda do?

Sitting on my draining-board, trying to look innocent.

Friday, July 15, 2016

Phoo...phooo...blowin' 'way de dust...

Dear Everyone, 

Long time now I been here! De dust gather thick and clumpy enough to build walls for a house!

I been writing, y'see. Working on a new book. The third book which I hope to publish first.

The book is about a man who live only in he little world.  Like most o' we, eh? Is a small book.

Anyway, every Friday I say, Okay, I gon blog.  The next thing you know...whops, something turn up that I got to do.

Same as today, I got a small chore but I decide to heck with it, I just want to say hi and show you two lovely things that happen while I been reading about all the badness taking place in the world.

I hope y'all doing well xx

I visit me lovely Irish auntie and get this gift.

And one morning....

Tuesday, May 17, 2016

Letter...light, dark, sea, sun.

Dear Everyone,

I been away but not away.

I been reading piles o’ articles about war and hate and peace.  I come to the conclusion that war-and-hate-talks is more popular than peace. I notice too that when we talk about the children-victims of war, hate or helplessness pull we down. I fall into the helpless pool.

I been looking over old notes, searching me brain, me heart and soul for material for the third book. Hopefully, it gon be the first to publish.

I been gazing at the sea, enjoying the light in the day,


the in-between of evenings, 



and the cloud-colour at a certain time o’ night.

Plenty mornings, I lose meself in the sunrise. I take photo and think about light versus dark.

I cook lunch, I dance in de kitchen, pot and spoon in hand; sometimes, fork in mouth.

And don’t lemme tell you about the drama of daily life in this here land, ohhhh me momma...

P.S. Please note, I ain't a photographer. I only take pikchas as memory-notes.

Monday, April 18, 2016

How to go from sweet to foul with only Sunday in between.

Here me was on Saturday: 





Today, Monday, here me is:





No, it ain't have nothing to do with Monday.

Y'know wanta know, eh? 

You wanta know what can change a sweet, lovely Lady this way?

Taxes!!!

Yes, I know, the formula my mother teach me is easy. Like cutting ripe banana.

Well, I don't kay! I don't care! 

Maths is maths!!!!

Wednesday, April 06, 2016

Just stoppin' in the middle of writing to say...

De Sea is callin' me!

I can smell dat brine, dem wild waves, foamin' an' flingin' with praises and woman-joy.

Sunday, March 27, 2016

Untie me, please.

Dear Blogger Friends, 

I been in a conundrum. It did feel very much like the sea at night, rolling, roaring and bashing at the wall, rolling back...

…because I had to make a painful decision.

Finally, I decide.

I wouldn’t publish book number 1 and book number 2 as yet.

Unfortunately, this decision leave me in a tight-tight knot, silent.



For nights after, I stand by the window listening to music, twisting me mind, turning thoughts... 

...until…

…i’l bit, li’l bit…

I untie the knots and a series of books roll into me.

Friday, March 11, 2016

Underpants.

Me and Annie was talkin' on the phone the other day about The Big New Flag in town.

This raise up a memory for me, pardon de poor pun. 

"When me brother was little, just starting school, he used to be late for school every blessed morning, Annie, all because of de flag."

"Why?" Annie ask.

"At school, they used to have flag-raising ceremony..."

Ow Lawd, yes, in we country-village, the children would stand in the briling hot sun, in the yard in front of the school, while a teacher raise the nation's flag, pulling the rope on the flag-pole. Up, up, went the flag with the temperature of the 8 o' clock sun. Down, down went the children in the heat, braps, faint. I forget to ask Annie if she school had that but I expect she did because she know exactly what I was talking about.

Despite the children fainting, something about the ceremony appeal to me five-year old brother.

Every morning, in the bathroom, the boy would chook he buckta...that is, he would prop he underpants...on to a mop-stick, then from one length of the bathroom to the other he would walk, singing the national anthem.

I know this is what he was doing cos we had a house with walls that didn't go right up to the ceiling. At least two feet of space was left between high roof and wall.

I, two years younger than this brother, would stand outside the bathroom and watch the buckta on the mop-stick parading above the wooden wall to the sound of my brother tuneless singing.

In the kitchen, my mother would be hollering at him to hurry up and further up the road, school-bell would be jing-a-linging. 

Annie laugh. "Your brother was crazy."

"He was the William Brown of we village, Annie."