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Unspectacularness.

What is this thing...

...this odd word that Mr. Nighttime tag me with?

Unspectacularness.

Been thinking…is the mundane, the ordinary, everyday routine of living yet it got that bit, that spectacular in the middle that I can’t ignore.

Is the custard that I make yesterday. Stirring, stirring, the custard refuse to thicken, impatience scratching at me like the whisk scratching the pot, whey-ha whey-ha whey-ha, I feel tempted to quit but I continue because my mother who is fasting for Ramadan ask me to make it for dinner. Stir, stir, me mind is turning to mush but finally, tah-dah, vanilla custard done, put it to cool, serve it for dessert with banana and papaya slices and my mother say, Dinner was lovely.

Is the watering of the garden…the bleddy Amazon jungle…every morning, is me dragging that thick, heavy grey hose as the sun pink-up the sky. One morning I stop to watch two lizards squaring off to fight, swelling-up they throats. One lash-up he tail on the garden wall, if I did film it in extreme close-up it woulda look like Jurassic Park.

Is the long, straight road that I did travel on in a faraway, first world land. Wave after wave of green leaves and yellow canola flowers on both sides of the road go lull lull lull, sleepy, I am getting sleepy then suddenly, in the middle of nowhere…what should sail into me vision…a’ ole wood latrine.

Is the li’l coconut broom whacksing out dust from we home.

Is the market; damp greens and plump, shiney reds and purples.

Is showering on a humid afternoon, water falling in silver and rainbow sprinkles; is the coconut tree I can see through the bathroom window, it hardly moving in the heat…

…and oh look…I done the tag…and if anybody want to talk about they Unspectacularness, I gon be happy…

El Dorado and the EU.

Dear Mr. President of Guyana,

Nobody never teach you that poor brown people should know they place? Especially amongst better-off brown people? What you think you doing, asking Caribbean leaders to co-operate with you to re-think that EU trade document before signing it?

You ain't notice that them ones who say, Sign now, they already got business going good for them? One island got sun, sea, sand, reggae and science research; another got natural gas, oil, sun, sea, steel-bands and soca; and the next island got fabulous hotels where world-famous celebrities stay and sun and sea. They don't need we.

So, I been thinking...ignore Derek Walcott and others warning that we must be careful about prostituting we self to Tourism. And instead of worrying about how to export food and whatever to EU countries, let's feed we boys the food that we grow, make them stronger then lure them girl tourists here with the promise of El Dorado bliss.

Them girls and we studs can swing from limb to limb in we rainforest, oh what fun. Heh. That gon teach them EU men in power a thing or two about divide and conquer, woo hoo. But all in all, this can turn out to be a good trade...you know how we girls here love foreign men. (I gon be unselfish and leave them men for we girls).

C'mon Mr. Pressie, stop harbouring big ideas about fighting for rights and Caribbean unity and all o' that, stop worrying about future generation.

As for botheration letters like this?

Man, look, ignore it, just rock in you hammock and forget.

My ugly hands.

After the beautiful grass bite-up me hands, fat blisters pop up and they join each other to make continents. On thumbs, pointing fingers and middle fingers. Look so ugly I use them for fun…might as well, otherwise I woulda bawl. While I talk to people I suddenly hold up me hands and say, ‘Look what happen,’ and watch people step back in horror.

Them blisters take weeks to go away. Couldn’t sew, couldn’t embroider, garden or sweep house with me li’l coconut broom.

Make me realise, we really take hands for granted, eh?

Well, I do. Take these hands for granted…

…me sly hands…sly yes, when me and Cousin Nan was 4 and 5 years ole in the countryside, we used to slip into the shop next door and snitch ching gum…chewing gum…from the glass bottle while the shopkeeper been at the back o’ the shop, no wonder we end up with cavities and had to go to the dentist and one o’ we holler so bad and kick the needle out from the dentist hand, I did want to scratch he face with the nails of me hands…

…me chile hands that make cards for mother, pasting pictures with cooked rice or gluey gamma cherry…

…hands that had chew-up fingers nails one year in high-school because me best friend then used to chew she nails then all them other girls start to grow theirs so I grow mine too. Then I dig them long nails into me palms to cause pain so I don’t cry at sad movies or finnerals…

…hands that itch to make rude gestures to mean drivers but they stay on the steering wheel, blasted, stupid hands…

…hands that sprinkle anti-bacterial powder on my mother after she surgery...and paint with li’l ‘Merican nephews and wipe away they eye-water when they cry…hands that craft, that pray (and plead) and give and plant and reap and know tons of secrets that the right one does scribble in me red book…

“They look scrawly, man, they proper look terrible,” my mother say one morning as she examine them blisters. Hmmph, only a mother can say something like that and get away with it.

But them ugly, hurting hands wasn’t why I ain’t blog.

I ain’t blog because I been doing extreme surgery to me manuscript, cutting out chunks of self-indulgence, removing them silly bits and re-stitching phrases and sentences and adding more life to the writing. If I did only stop to blog I woulda lose momentum an’ passion.

And all the while, it was you, dear bloggers and other folks who comment, it was you who been keeping me going with you kind words and compliments. If you only know how much support you give!

So with these hands I want to say a big thank you (applause, applause for you all).

And thank you too, Mr. Scarty from Fotland for this:

Now I want to share the award with 5 other bloggers...but before I do...rules is rules...so...for them who get nominated...

(a.) Pick five (5) blogs that you consider deserve this award for their creativity, design, interesting material, and also for contributing to the blogging community, no matter what language.

(b.) Each award has to have the name of the author and also a link to his or her blog to be visited by everyone.

(c.) Each award winner has to show the award and put the name and link to the blog that has given her or him the award itself.

(d.) Award-winner and the one who has given the prize have to show the link of Arte y Pico blog, so everyone will know the origin of this award.

Okay, here I go:

1. I ain’t know if, technically speaking, what he got is a ‘blog’…but anyway, Mike is the blogger of all bloggers. He does have Projects that sometimes involve other bloggers; he give lectures on what blogging is all about and post them lectures on he site; if he see a new, exciting blog, he tell everybody; and don’t forget Post of the week that he start and still run. Oh gosh, then there is Shaggy Blog Stories, he brain-chile…a book with stories by other bloggers.

2. Pat is the perfect blend of nostalgia and now. She is beautiful, stylish, graceful and boy, she can weave a good story. Plus, she does show photos of places that make me KNOW that is possible to create beauty…that we ain’t got to sit and wait for others to do it.

3. Jdid is a mix of politics and personal, Caribbean and Canada, writing in English and Creole, depending on mood and story. And depending on the mood or story, he can make you eye-water run with laughter or sadness. This fella, for me, capture a big part of we Caribbean spirit. If you get the time, find and read he public transport stories.

4. Lee, who I like to call Caribbean, is a Merican gyal livin’ in Belize. She is talented, a’ artist and photographer and a great story-teller too. She capture life there, and sometimes the language, to a ‘t’. Lee is hilarious but she is a practical woman too, writing about dreams and the stereotypical ideas people have of giving it all up and moving to the Caribbean, and what you reeeeally need to be a success.

5. Lucy, a witty Brit in Portugal. And ohhhh, she illustrations! I still remember that one she do of a bland, blank middle-class mama who go to pick up she chile at school. Lucy is satirical, ironic…just plain wicked.

I wish I can include more people because for all kinda reasons, I think you all is great…but that gon take me ‘til December…and right now, me hands got to go and vacuum this house…