Ruthibelle

No Fear!!

2012-01-26T18:21:00.000-08:00

I was having dinner (sumptuous marinated pork and brown stew chicken ... nice!). I reached down for the cup, and my fingers hit it so it teetered at a 45 degree angle.

My heart leapt. I don't even know where it went. I quickly righted the cup. Then I thought:What was that feeling?? I should not be this afraid of spilling a cup of water. I should not be this afraid of making a mistake.

Then I had an epiphany: time stilled for a brief second and deep realisation sank in. There it was: a profound thought in a less-than-profound moment: I should not be this afraid of making a mistake!

New Project Coming Soon!

2012-01-19T14:30:00.000-08:00

I've done putting it all on paper, and now, it goes to action. The project I've been working on for two years finally sounds sensible and plausible enough to see the light of day. So, over the next few days, my posts will be updates on where my project is going ...

My aim has always been to take Jamaican journalism to a level where the people being interviewed are more than just abstract news subjects. I've also had immense interest in and desire to see Jamaican journalism involve more young people. What if I could combine the two?

Look out for more details on my project right here!!

Customer Service: you know what that means, right?

2012-01-12T14:35:00.000-08:00

Jamaica is (well, was, up till recently) graced with three major phone services: LIME (formerly Cable & Wireless), Digicel (from Mossels), and Claro (from America Movil). Well, I have all three services (nah, that's not cause I'm rich - it's cause they're all so bad, you need all three to have something that even slightly resembles decent service).

So recently I had a run-in with a Claro customer service rep (CSR).
Rb: Hello. I'm trying to put this credit on my phone, and I keep getting an error message that the PIN number is invalid. I just bought the card, so that can't be right.
CSR: Ok. Before we begin, I'd like to take some information from you. Will that be alright?
Rb: Yeah. Ok.
CSR: What is your name?
Rb: Rb.
CSR: What is the number of the phone you're trying to put the credit on?
Rb: 123-4567
CSR: Ok Rb. Thank you for that information. Now can you please explain to me what is happening with your phone?
Rb: I'm trying to put credit on my phone and I keep getting an error message that the PIN number is invalid.
CSR: Can you please repeat that?
Rb: I'm trying to put credit on my phone and I keep getting an error message that the PIN number is invalid.
CSR: Ok. So you're trying to put credit on your phone and you keep getting a message that the PIN number is invalid?
Rb: That's what I said.
CSR: OK Rb. Thank you for that information. Now, in order to help you, I will require some more information from you. Is that ok?
Rb: Ok.
CSR: What is your name?
Rb: Rb Br.
CSR: And what is the number of the phone you're trying to pt the credit on?
Rb: 123-4567.
CSR: And you tried putting the credit on the phone and it did not work?
Rb: Yes.
CSR. Thank you very much for that information. OK. I'm seeing here that your credit is at $XX. So,that means the credit you tried to put on your pohone did not go on.
Rb (slighly agitated): Well, that'swhatisaid!
CSR: Well, OK. SOmetimes this happens, and we suggest that you wait for at least 10 minutes to see if the credit comes on, then call back if it doesn't.
Rb: Really.
CSR: yes. Thank you for calling Claro. WQe're always happy to help you. Is there anything else I can help you with.
*Click*. Rb hangs up.

Growing Wings - Metamorphosis to Exile

2012-01-07T11:44:00.000-08:00

The following is an extract from my essay submitted to the 2011 World Bank essay competition, which was ranked among the top 200 essays submitted.

How Rural Communities Dispossess Their Best And Brightest And How And Why It Must Be Stopped!
Topic: YOUTH MIGRATION

Questions:
(1) How has migration affected you, your family, community and country?
(2) How do you perceive the benefits versus the risks of migration?
(3) What actions can you recommend for broadening opportunities for young migrants in their:
(i) countries of destination, and
(ii) countries of origin?

Summary
The grooming began early. As soon as they found out I was gifted – well, not really gifted, just smart with books and good at school – they started to drop hints and make preparations for the day when they would send me away. Because bright people don’t stay in St. Mary – a rural, farming parish located on the north-east coast of Jamaica. Apparently, if they do, they never get the chance to make anything meaningful of themselves, because in St. Mary, where opportunities are perceived to be scarce-to-nonexistent, all that talent and skill goes to waste.

My schooling and upbringing was an experience in growing wings. Consciously and unconsciously, my parents, teachers, relatives and friends were preparing me for flight from my home town. They had developed a culture of preparing their best, brightest and most skilled people to leave the parish and go elsewhere, mainly to urban parishes, in pursuit of tertiary education and well-paying jobs, and this culture perpetuated a cycle of brain-drain and poverty to which they had become accustomed.

This is my documentary, examining how and why I left my rural hometown to live and work in urban Kingston. I examine methods for a transformation of the dismal view of country and community that my peers and I are often subliminally taught, and suggest methods through which the process of cross-cultural, or rural-urban migration can be better harnessed to benefit sending and receiving countries/communities.

A Caterpillar Appears
I don’t know if anyone has ever said it before, but I believe migration – the movement of people from one place in the world to another for the purpose of taking up permanent or semipermanent residence, usually across a political boundary (National Geographic, para. 1) – begins in the mind. It starts as a thought, triggered by different events or messages that a person receives, processes and stores in his/her brain as he/she grows up. People will always be drawn to the places or things that are presented as most attractive to them. Migration is no different. People see more attractive opportunities in other places, are drawn to them, visualise themselves there, and then leave to reside in these more attractive places, with the hope of acquiring whatever it is that drew them to their destination.

Millions of people migrate annually for various reasons: better financial opportunities, employment, family ties, exile, health, climate … the list is inexhaustible. Whether for love or money, the general sentiment among migrants is that the destination, once reached, will offer far more and better opportunities and longer lasting pleasure than the location being left behind. This, in a way, conforms to the law of attraction.

I know I ought to go home and help build my community
But my family expects me to stay here and become great and make money ....

My friends and I grew up feeling this way. We all knew we weren’t destined to stay in St. Mary. We all knew we would leave.

When I passed the Common Entrance exam and I just knew I was growing wings. When I was a young girl, ‘foreign’ always held special appeal for me. It was this magical place where people went to get rich - a haven, an oasis, the Jamaican Promised Land. Though noone said it, I understood that if I could just get to ‘foreign’, I would come back wealthier, prettier, and generally much better off. It was later, when I grew up, that I realised that migration is not so simple an issue as that.

To be continued ....

Jamaica Election 2011 Roundup

2011-12-30T07:07:00.001-08:00

Winners: People’s National Party (PNP)
Colour: Orange
Leader: Portia Simpson-Miller

Losers: Jamaica Labour Party (JLP):
Colour: Green
Leader: Andrew Holness

The Electoral Commission of Jamaica’s (ECJ) all-island preliminary results:
People’s National Party (PNP): 41 seats
Jamaica Labour Party (JLP): 22 seats

General reaction in nation:
SHOCK. It was a surprise sweep. Many expected it to be a close contest, but not very many thought that the PNP would win, or that they would win by such a large margin.

High Points:
- Little to no violence. One of, if not the most peaceful we’ve ever had.
- By most accounts, it was a smooth election process.

Areas of Concern:
- Low voter turnout. Stats from the ECJ indicate that approximately 52.10% of eligible voters exercised that right. What of the other 40-odd%?

Important Questions:
- Where do we go from here?
When the noise and excitement has finally settled down, Jamaicans will awake to the reality of the same hardships they faced before the elections. The question will become: can we cross it?

- What does the other 40-odd% of the nation want?
They did not vote, many claiming that they refrained as a statement of their dissatisfaction with both parties. Well, now a party is in power that they say they don’t want. What of it?

Loving Inmates Back To Destiny

2011-12-20T07:09:00.000-08:00

She’s short. Not much over five feet high. But this height belies the power of a woman on a mission to change her world - one inmate at a time. She’s special because she’s a woman who has worked mainly with men - and not the best kind either. These are men who society has cast off as ‘offenders’, ‘criminals’, ‘hopeless’.

“We impact them by loving them, letting them know that in spite of what they’re going through, we’re here to love them, that God still loves them,” she says passionately. Throughout the interview, she repeatedly emphasises the need to love these fallen men past their failures. And that is what the organisation she founded in 2009 is all about. Friends With A Heart Outreach International was created with the specific aim of helping inmates and ex-offenders to lead better lives and reintegrate into communities.

“People make mistakes, but we have to get to a place where your situation does not determine your future. You may have failed at something, but you are not a failure. Don’t give up on life,” she quietly urges. Then she smiles, leans back, and waits for the next question.

Vivienne Nash, 46, was born in Kingston, Jamaica, though she has spent most of her life in her country of residence, Canada. The challenges in her life came early: at 17, she got pregnant with her only child – a girl. She explains that it wasn’t easy to take care of her daughter and attend school, though she was lucky to have the support of the child’s father, and her own mother.

Then, during her last year of college, she was incarcerated in Fort Augustus in Kingston, Jamaica, after she was caught trafficking drugs.

“It was an ordeal,” she explains, “I learned alot. When you’re in prison, you have a lot of time to sit down and reflect on what you want to do, where you want to go.”

After being released from prison, she went back to Canada, where she started getting serious about her religion: Christianity. According to her, “I realised that I’d tried everything and nothing else worked … . I actually found God in a nightclub ...” – something she admits is a unique experience – “you expect to meet guys and chill at a nightclub, but that’s not what happened for me – at least, I didn’t meet that kinda guy.” And she smiles as she remembers.

“We were the last four persons to leave. There was a heat that came over me. I told my friends I would go outside to wait in the car. When I got to the car, I started crying, started repenting. I remembered stuff back from way back and then the last thing I repented for was all the drugs I brought into the country.”

After that, Vivienne started to turn her life around. She was national director for one of Canada’s largest prison ministries – Prison Fellowship Canada – for three years. During that time, she travelled all across Canada and developed a better understanding of the prison system, becoming increasingly concerned with the limited provisions made for inmate rehabilitation. That was when she got the idea for Friends With A Heart Outreach International (FWAH). She felt the need to use the knowledge she had gained, and the passion she had for helping inmates, to do more for these fallen soldiers.
Her outreach group was registered in Canada in May 2009. The Jamaica arm was registered in 2010. Though both are still in the early development stages, Vivienne explains that these groups are making a difference in the lives of inmates in their host nations.

“We have women going into different institutions in Canada: to the Grand Valley Institution for Women and West Detention Centre. We have about 30 volunteers at the moment. Every Sunday, we have a chapel service, and we do one-on-one mentoring.”

Then she tells me about an exercise she did with inmates at the Tower Street Correctional Centre in Kingston, Jamaica:
“I asked them to just write on a piece of paper -– no names or anything – guilty or innocent. When I got back to my room and sat down to read the notes, most of them said guilty. And that made me realise that they really trusted us. I’m sure they didn’t say that to the judge. But that really affected me and made me want to do more for them.”

Although Vivienne has a secular job, she dreams of the day when she will be able to work in her outreach full-time. Sure, there are days when she gets discouraged, but she says these are the times when she has learnt to encourage herself. Eventually, her goal is that “wherever there’s a prison, we would have some sort of representation … I see us building a facility that will be able to function to its fullness, holistically – like a training centre for people to be trained/equipped to go back into society.”

It’s a big dream. And a small start. But she believes God will help her to achieve it. And she continues to find motivation from the stories she daily hears:
“This one inmate, he said he got involved in criminal activity through politics,” she says. “You know when politicians give young men guns and money for votes? He became an area leader, and I don’t know if the politician became nervous or what, but he reported him to the police and they arrested him. I know he committed murder. He’s told me about that. But, listen, I’m sitting here listening to a young man. I’m hearing the heart of what society calls a criminal. I’m speaking into his life. What I want people to understand is that we’re a Christian organisation but we don’t only deal with with Christians. Our whole purpose is loving people back to destiny.”

This article is part of a writing assignment for Voices of Our Future a program of World Pulse that provides rigorous new media and citizen journalism training for grassroots women leaders. World Pulse lifts and unites the voices of women from some of the most unheard regions of the world.

So Here's The Big Idea ...

2011-12-05T08:29:00.001-08:00

The following was submitted as my final assignment before being selected as a WorldPulse Voices of the Future 2011 Correspondent:

Stories. Letters strung across a page that can do so much! The world is full of 'em - big ones, little ones, long ones, short ones, sad ones, funny ones, dull ones, bright ones. There are histories, his-stories, and her-stories ...

Women. Mothers, daughters, aunts, nurses, teachers, brokers, bosses, wives, lovers, providers, supporters, helpers, friends ... The hats they wear ... The roles they play, and most importantly, the stories they have to tell.

Sometimes, if you sit still enough for long enough, you can almost hear the world talking ... almost. And sometimes, when you look into a woman's eyes, you can almost see and feel her story ... almost.
For as long as I can remember, I've written. It's a passion, a fascination, an outlet ... a love. I've particularly enjoyed writing in journals and diaries. Sometimes, they are places to record memories, moments, events - to chronicle growth and development.

What if the world didn't have to search a woman's eyes to try to find her story? What if she freely, willingly opened her diary to the world and told them stories they wouldn't otherwise know? What if that story so gripped the hearts and imaginations of men that it revolutionised their perspectives, attitudes, lives? What if it completely redefined journalism as we know it? What if that story was multiplied by hundreds, thousands, millions?

What I want - what I've always wanted - is real simple: to change my world, one story at a time.
I believe in the power of the written, spoken, read and heard word. And, obviously, so does WorldPulse. I want to develop the versatility to tell any woman's story from any corner of the globe so well that her voice will not be misrepresented, misunderstood, ignored, or worse, unheard. I want to compile a set of diaries that reflect the heart of WOMAN - a powerful collection of stories from around the world. I know I have to start small. I know I have to start where I'm planted, so the immediate desire is to reveal the untold stories of the Jamaican woman.

Being a VOF participant allows me the chance to be a more effective tool. I can be sharpened, recalibrated (where necessary), smoothed out and learn how to do the job with grace, beauty, strength, femininity. And as I learn, I can also teach. As I receive, I can also impart. I can be part of the beautiful cycle of positive, everlasting change - a thunderstorm, if you will - that starts with the incredibly remarkable power of one.

Creating A Thunderstorm 2 Billion (Women) Strong

2011-11-01T17:48:00.000-07:00

The following was submitted as my first assignment of three I had to complete before being selected as a WorldPulse Voices of the Future 2011 Correspondent:

A thunderstorm starts with just one drop of water.

Once upon a time, information was a luxury owned by a privileged few.
Once upon a time, news was something prepared and packaged exclusively in a formal newsroom by a few individuals.
Once upon a time, a woman had to take her story, give it to a man, and ask him to tell it for her, hoping he would tell it right, praying he would paint her in the right light, use the right brushes, give the right shades and textures - but it can be so hard to tell another person’s truth.
Even with the very best intentions, there is always room for error.

But a thunderstorm starts with just one drop of water.

Web 2.0 revolutionised global communication. These new, convenient methods of sharing information broke traditional media’s monopoly on information. For me, web 2.0 embodies two concepts: transparency and diverse story-telling. Where once, all I heard and saw were the views of a limited few who could manipulate information to create the impression they wanted to give, I can now literally hear the world talking; and share and celebrate its diversity everyday. If life is, as Helen Keller said, a series of lessons that must be lived to be understood, then web 2.0 affords people everywhere the opportunity to freely and easily learn from and understand each other.
Of course, with great knowledge comes great responsibility. Web 2.0 is only as positively effective as each user makes it – the beauty of that statement being that power no longer lies with a few brokers at the top of an unjust pyramid. It now rests in the hands of each citizen.

Because a thunderstorm starts with just one drop of water.

For women, web 2.0 has special significance. In a world where media is still dominated by the voices of men, with most information still molded from a male-oriented viewpoint, we are empowered to assert our stories, own our voices, and speak the truths that only we can know. Through web 2.0, women have formed, and continue to form, a strong global collective. We can now combine shared stories, shared voices, shared experiences and shared support.
I’ve learnt that each human being has a story, and a voice. With web 2.0, each individual gets an outlet for self-expression. Each woman can tell her story her way.
Today, I blog.
Today, I own my story.
Today, I own my voice.
And when I log on to the net, sign in, network, I hear diverse voices rising, swelling, swirling … creating a maelstrom of dynamic revolutionary, cross-cultural transformation. Sometimes, an act as simple as story-telling can have an impact that lasts for generations.
I am just one drop of water.
You are one.
Together, we are over two billion strong.

Now that’s a thunderstorm.

The Story of 7 Billion People

2011-10-31T15:11:00.000-07:00

7 billion. That's the new buzz number. That's how many people the United Nations Population Fund tells us are now on the planet Earth. 7 billion! That's a lot! And they're predicting a 2 billion+ growth by 2019.

Suddenly, and almost simultaneously, we're hearing messages of lack and scarcity. There aren't enough resources on Earth to replenish 7 billion people. We have to think differently. There's more of us now. And we all share responsibility for our survival, which is largely dependent on the longevity of this planet.

It's funny how fear can be injected into every milestone of our race. How will we survive - all 7 billion (and counting) of us? In some ways, it's almost like saying Mother Earth gave birth to too many children ... and now, she can barely manage to lactate them.

I acknowledge the efforts the UNFPA has made to celebrate the 7 billion milestone. I love the fact that their efforts to record the stories of people from all over the world helps to create greater awareness of the diversity which abounds. It's a splendid idea! I give it two thumbs up.

But this message of scarcity bothers me. I've read so many reports which indicate that scarcity exists only in certain regions of the world. In 2006, the Guardian told us that an apparently very healthy 1% of our people are consuming and controlling a whopping 40% of the world's wealth. So, really, this message of benevolence to 7 billion belies a whiff of hypocrisy.

We spend so much time in labs trying to create super-foods and super-medicines to feed and cure the impoverished when our own bins are filled to the brims with stinking, rotting foods - the excess we could not consume and had to discard.

Waste. While we waste what we have, others' lives waste away.

Since I was a little girl, my question has always been, if there's even nearly enough to go around, how come so many still go without?

There's 7 billion mouths to be fed.
What will we give to make sure none ends up dead?
What comforts are we willing to sacrifice?
To ensure that another stays alive?

Sober up, world. Think about it.

For more on how you can participate in the drive for 7 billion, or to learn more, see 7billionactions.org.

The New Era of False Sensitisation

2011-10-27T12:32:00.001-07:00

The New Era of False Sensitisation
You Think You Know But You Don’t

I was a student presenter at the 2009 Caribbean Culture and Media International Conference, held at the University of the West Indies, Mona, in collaboration with Clark Atlanta University. I spoke, along with another student from UWI, and two from Clark Atlanta, about the ‘Convergence of Politics, Media and Culture’. I remember, during the course of our presentations, that Dr. Alice Stephens - a woman I grew to have great respect for over the duration of the conference - asked us if we, as the younger generation, felt sensitised to what was taking place in other countries around the world because of networking sites (or applications) like Twitter, Facebook, YouTube and Blogger.

One UWI student said, “Yes.” He then proceeded to explain how he was able to receive and share information about the atrocities taking place in other countries via Twitter and Facebook, and how he could “click on links” to help save lives and send money to impoverished nations. Or something like that. He ended by saying that, yes, we were definitely more sensitised to what was taking place.

I disagreed. Not only are we not sensitised about what goes on in these other countries (forgive the double negative), we’ve fallen into a delirium of believing that we are, and that what we are doing online is somehow saving and changing lives. We believe that by putting a poster in the sidebar of our blog drawing attention to a crucial human development issue is somehow enough proof of our unflailing commitment to humanity and of how aware and ‘sensitised’ we are to global issues. But what I have found is that most times, it’s not. It’s not nearly enough. And too often, it’s a no-brainer decision that leaves us with no REAL sense of the reality others have to live with.

I think it’s a certain level of arrogance that makes us believe that we’re bestowing goodwill on the ‘lesser’, underdeveloped and undemocratic states because of our ‘superior’ access to these social media. And the worst part is, so many of today’s youth think they’re doing these countries a favour by tweeting and posting about their misfortunes, all the while maintaining this attitude of benevolent arrogance that belies hypocrisy and a certain contempt for the very states and people we claim to be helping.

We must remember the attitude of the coloniser to the colonised. The history and heritage of a people was disregarded as coloniser tried, through hegemonic cultural genocide, to ‘civilise’ another state and impose a ‘superior’ culture on them. We must be careful not to repeat history using 21st-century tools.

The fault of the colonisers is also our fault: we approach this ‘need for help’ with overzealous myopia. There is a chasm where there ought to be critical and serious thought. Like no other social network I know, Twitter has popularised the concept of following - sans frontieres, often sans mente. And the youth are often blindly following in their forefathers’ footsteps. They just mindlessly take whatever information is shoved their way from mainstream media and reproduce it without a thought - it sounds like a good cause - it’s a BRAINLESS decision.

And that brainlessness does not ever have a place in any serious sensitisation programme. People who are sensitised to an issue must, at least, THINK about it, must they not?

What Twitter often helps to create is a bubble of deception - a self-reinforcing one, no less! I can readily use the group of popular Jamaican tweeters whom I have often criticised for this self-involved, myopic syndrome on many previous occasions. The Internet is still a relatively new concept to some parts of the island. There are many people who don’t know how to manipulate a computer, much less log on to the Internet and harness its awesome networking power. But this group does not feature prominently on Twitter. They’re not there at all. And their absence is not felt.

We can so easily be led to believe that everybody else is hooked up and YouTubing/tweeting because this is a prevalent feature in our circle (or BUBBLE) of influence. This is what has happened to the Twitter-happy bubble bunch. They are compulsive, obsessive tweeters who think that anybody who’s not tweeting must be living under a rock. But no, there are many people who are not familiar with these technologies right here ON the rock. What we have is a concentration of a few urbanly located youth who forget (or, often, don’t care) that the rest of their country is sans technologia. They consider themselves to classy, Western, modern … tweeting about the ‘issues’, up-to-date with the REAL world, but totally oblivious to what is taking place right here in their own country under their very noses! They think they know, but they really don’t! And those pretenders are ANYTHING but sensitised. What they are is self-involved, proud, arrogant, shallow, brash and dismissive of anything or anyone that does not conform to their twitterised way of life.

And that’s what false sensitisation does. It gets you comfortably passive, makes you make a lot of useless noise because you think you know, because you’re deceived into believing you ARE the essence of online sensitisation. Social media has its place. But it must be used hand-in-hand with other, more tested and proven methods of information. A tweet cannot take the place of proper, solid research. A sidebar to click cannot replace tangible, decisive action.

Media has its place in development. But education is still essential to train, teach and truly sensitise people about how best to use the technology, about its limitations, advantages, disadvantages. Sensitisation goes beyond a click on an electronic device. It calls for real interest, real thought, and more importantly, REAL ACTION.

Some Encouragement ...

2011-10-07T10:56:00.000-07:00

It takes effort to stop and put your thoughts in order to share them with others. And sometimes, it's easier to be lazy and not even bother to try. But the easy thing is not always the BEST thing. And the easy thing often carries no lasting, gratifying reward. And when you get into the habit of easy, you never stretch yourself, you never grow, you remain comfortable, and eventually become retarded.

Because life is so designed that each individual must encounter a series of events that lead to growth and maturity. When you decide to stop pushing yourself beyond the last boundary, when you decide to stay where you are and remain in your comfort zone only for the rest of your life, that's the point at which you decide to become a living dead.

So rise, then, and take up the challenge to be more today than you were yesterday, and more tomorrow than you are today. Rise, and decide to push for the better you until you're certain there's absolutely nothing left.

These are my few words. Pray for me as I pray for myself. And push ...

Remembering Steve Jobs

2011-10-06T09:27:00.000-07:00

"Here's to the crazy one, the misfits, the rebels, the troublemakers, the round pegs in the square holes…because the ones who are crazy enough to think that they can change the world, are the ones who do." - Steve Jobs

Here's to a creative genius. Steve Jobs. February 24, 1955 – October 5, 2011.

Living on Luck: Making Emergency Preparedness a Lived Reality

2011-09-16T11:57:00.001-07:00

Countries that have been (so far) fortunate enough to escape the catastrophe that has befallen Haiti and Japan must feel lucky. But with luck should come awareness of the strategies/measures that must be put in place to ensure that, should the elements of nature decide to pour their solid, liquid or gaseous wrath in our direction, they will be in a position to still escape catastrophe through forethought and proper planning and preparation.

Preparedness must replace the luck mentality. And I see no place where a strong belief in luck or an unwavering testament to people’s faith in God’s providence is more evident than in Jamaica - the nation with the most churches per square mile.

Every year, around hurricane season, the piousness and religious zeal of Jamaican people increases thousandfold, as they cross fingers, toes, hands and feet, blot their house doors with the cross and pray for the providence of God to help them through another rough, potentially devastating season. The problem with that approach is - many of them survive the season relatively unscathed, and as a result, their belief in their luck's never-ending supply gets bolstered, even as the folly of their unpreparedness and refusal to prepare remains veiled to them.

At the end of it, they throw up their hands, utter a “Tenky Jesus” and carry on until the next hurricane season, and the next season of their mixture of fear, faith and luck.

I have no problem with God or religion. And I certainly have no grouse with Jamaicans being a people of faith. But let’s make this biblical: Faith without works - sensible, WISE works - is dead. Their failure to see that ‘luck’, ‘providence’, or whatever they call it, can run out, whereas good sense, proper planning and detailed preparation will always prevail, is what disturbs me.

We could easily move from the ‘maybe I’ll make it this year’ feeling of uncertainty to the confident statement of, ‘yes, I am prepared’. Damages could be minimised and it would cost this country less if we would stop living on luck, and starting living out emergency disaster preparedness, until it is ingrained in our culture, like it was in Japan’s.

And we should take instruction from the fact that despite their superior levels of preparation, Japan still endured more than they were able to bear. What about us - who are not prepared at all??

Rainy Days And A Commuting Crisis Part 2

2011-09-14T13:25:00.000-07:00

Or: A lesson in self-discovery

There I was. Caught in a classic catch 22. Take out the phone and make the call, risk being harmed or worse, killed, for a stupid BB (yes, right then, the damned thing seemed stupid and bothersome). Or not make the call and risk being stuck under that old shed with these strangers till midnight. I needed to go home. Badly. Cold, hungry and tired were beginning to make inroads on my will.

I took a careful look at the men around me. One was in shabby clothes, obviously a street runner (one of those men who spend all of their productive and consequently unproductive years on the side of the road harassing beautiful ladies, getting high, loading buses and dodging the police ... an absolutely judgmental description, but, I promise you, also absolutely true). One was a really big and tall dude in a khaki uniform - I shuddered. He was a schooler but he looked like maybe he had repeat several grades several times. Scary. Another looked like he worked on a construction site, in a lumber yard, or some such place. Short, thick, muscular, hulkish. He was sighing and hissing his teeth a lot and I thought he could rip the phone from me with one brisk motion. The last man wasn't so bad. He was tall but thin - almost to a fault. I looked at him and felt a small measure of pity and solace. He looked so sad and malnourished. If push came to shove, I could probably take him out.

The woman sounded like a security guard. She was short and fat. Maybe she would come to my rescue if I needed it. It never crossed my mind that she could have been antagonistic toward me - funny how and when our biases are revealed.

I looked around me at this circle of strange faces, and thought to myself that before the great and terrible heavenly outpouring, they were all just regular people on their way somewhere. They were stuck under this shed, just like I was, and it was very possible that, at this moment, they were all more preoccupied with their own worries and troubles than they were with me and my BB. Maybe they hadn't even noticed me!

I stepped closer to a damp corner, and turned to face the wall. I slid my BB out of my handbag, and took another quick glance at the faces around me. Maybe they weren't criminals after all. I rang a friend and was halfway through relating my sorry dilemma when a bright flash of lightning struck - literally before my face!! I screamed at the same time that a huge peal of thunder clapped, and everybody looked in my direction - at me and my BB.

I looked back at them and felt like a mouse trapped in the limelight, one hand clutching my handbag to my side and the other halfway through a wave (don't ask me how or why) with the phone held up in the air, visible for all to see ...

Funny how sometimes the things we try hardest to hide are the things that find their own way into the limelight. Funny how much we can learn about ourselves in our darkest hours.

Rainy Days and A Commuting Crisis

2011-09-13T16:30:00.000-07:00

A lesson in being grateful for small, old and outdated mercies

So yesterday in Kingston, Jamaica, it rained cats and dogs! I mean, I had to wonder if heaven did laundry, the water was coming so heavy. And the lightning and thunder? As a friend would say, looked like God was fierce ... and fearsome!

So the work bus trip left me, and I ended up stuck under the shed of an abandoned building on a somewhat secluded road. In dangerous downtown Kingston. Funny how I suddenly remembered that I was downtown, and that the place can be pretty dangerous for young, unarmed, female pedestrians ... Funny how I suddenly felt the penetrating gazes of the four other men who were stuck under the shed with me ... Funny how I started to earnestly beseech the (already wroth) Almighty to please let the one woman who was under that godforsaken place with us not get the taximan she was so desperately trying to call so I'd have some sort of female company till the rain eased up and I could escape the peril of four strange, suddenly menacing-looking men (yes, I know, what a horrible thing to pray). And funniest of all was the interesting dilemma I found myself in as it regarded my only means of commmunication with the *supposedly* dry and safe rest-of-world: my cell phone.

Now, up until recently, I had a Nokia 3310 - an ugly, ancient thing that caused me many days and nights of continuous ridicule from my friends and coworkers. The phone was so old that when it fell, it separated into five different pieces: the back frame, the battery, the front frame, the keypad and the sim card would all fly into different directions, and I would have to gather these relics to put my *hardy* phone back together again (say what you will about my old Nokia, that phone was hardy - I had that particular model from sixth form in high school and it lasted into the 21st century, so there!).

But alas, I had to retire that phone. It was becoming a bit of an embarrassment for a young, working professional. And quite the setback. So I retired it, and stepped up to the fast-paced, hi-tech BlackBerry world which, up until last night, I was very happy to enter.

But yesterday. In this dangerous place. Rain pouring. Five pairs of strange eyes on me. And my only means of communication? A posh, hot, steal-worthy BlackBerry phone. I suddenly realised the unsavoury side of having material possessions that criminals find attractive. It was quite the dilemma and, right then, I longed deeply for my ancient Nokia phone ...

Funny the things we see, hear, feel and miss in our moments of crisis! From now on, I'll remember to be grateful for small, old and outdated mercies!

My Very First Blog Post EVER

2011-09-11T21:53:00.000-07:00

This is the very first blog post I ever did. I re-read it on my old (currently defunct) blog and thought, well gaaa-lee!!! Wow. I was deep once, lol. So enjoy.

So I started this blog because, well... I started this blog because...

Blogs are supposed to be the revolutionary media through which the ordinary, everyday, not-so-well-known-if-known-at-all person can express his/herself to a (hopefully) wide and varied audience. They aren't even that new. The concept has been around for quite a while now. So that means I'm several years behind. And why?

I could blame my teachers and all those persons who are supposed to facilitate the educational process. I could say that they didn't encourage me enough to have an avid interest in the wider world of journalism, that they themselves didn't seem to know anything more than standard, ineffective methods of teaching... purely by rote, and that this unengaging, uninspiring sort of tutorship is to blame for me being so disgracefully out of sync with my chosen career, and it would probably be very close to the truth.

I could cite lack of mentorship or fellowship opportunities in a small, developing country like Jamaica. I could say that here, you have to be among a chosen few and have a certain level of experience or luck or links or precociousness in order to actually make any advances in a field like journalism; a field where jobs are limited, opportunities are few, and the salary is not too exciting either. And that would be no lie.

I could point out that in a society like mine, if you aren't studying to become a lawyer or a doctor, or someone who works in a bank, next to no-one recognises your career as anything significant or important. I could refer to the overwhelming ignorance about and therefore gross unappreciation for journalists or journalism in this country. I could explain that what we call the "grassroots man" in Jamaica has not yet come to terms with the role that good journalism plays in his development; that no-one has taught him to appreciate a concept so abstract, so he hasn't, and it really is no fault of his. Or mine.

But it wouldn't make a difference. It wouldn't change the fact that I am still only just starting a blog.

So I'm starting a blog because it's about time I did (and because some benevolent stranger named Pepe encouraged me to do it around the same time I was reading in magazines about blogs and had actually found a couple that were quite interesting).

I'm starting this blog because the whole concept behind blogs (I think) is to recognise the existence of people like me who may not have international acclaim or coveted millions, but still have something to say: I have a story worth telling, and if I get lucky, then someone, somewhere will think it's worth listening to.

I'm starting this blog because I am. And that alone warrants notice.

Celebrating International Literacy Day

2011-09-08T08:39:00.000-07:00

The following is a message from the World Assembly of Youth in recognition of International Literacy Day.

Illiteracy is a crucial problem that affects all corners of the earth;
it has no boundaries and exists among every race, age group, and
economic class. According to the UNESCO statistics, one out of five
adults is illiterate while 67.4 million children are either out of
school or lack sufficient education. About 131 million youths aged
between 15 to 24 lack basic reading and writing skills.

Among many of the issues in literacy is gender disparity. Majority of
females lack education as compared to the male gender. Everyone needs
some basic education and has the right to it. Human rights to access
education must be exercised by all institutions with governments
enforcing such laws.

Knowledge is power when used to its full potential. To the societies,
literacy is essential for the development and economic growth of our
nations. We need to be able to read and write to get through our
important everyday tasks, excelling in school and be able to secure
jobs. Literacy opens up a window of opportunities to those who have it.

It provides people with the option of becoming members of a
self-confident and informed populace that can understand issues,
represent themselves, take responsibility for self-improvement
and family health, and better participate in civic affairs. These
are among the more priceless payoffs of literacy. It is also a vehicle
for tackling communicable diseases such as HIV, overcoming poverty and
a tool for achieving Millennium development goals.

Being the youth organization that we are, we are very much interested
in investing into the education of youth and raising awareness to the
issues of concern by all means. On this day, World Assembly of Youth
would like, not only to give insight on literacy issues but to also
encourage everyone especially the youth to pursue after knowledge and
hold on to it in order to preserve human potential.

May all be empowered with knowledge. Everyone can make a contribution
to the rise of literacy rates.

From Pity to Power ...

2011-08-31T15:26:00.000-07:00

I could write a million books about uncertainty and disenfranchisement. I could tell tales of doubt and internal agony. But what does that accomplish, really, at the end of the day? Where does that leave me, and the people who read and witness these sorry chronicles?

And is it not my due to my world to not encumber it with more sad tales of woebeme recollections, and tell stories of triumph, growth, development, and advancement? Isn't it always time for a raise and a rise??

No one speaks for me. I speak for myself. And I WILL tell a better story!

Musings ...

2011-08-25T08:48:00.000-07:00

Truth? Sometimes I feel like I'm not living - like I'm here, but I'm not here at all. Before you jump to the bottom of the post, hit comment and start to type your 2000-word response encouraging me to hang on and not give up, let me explain. I am hanging on. I'm not giving up. Frankly, that's not what this post is about. It's about something infinitely more essential - it's about living while alive ... and the freedom a body is supposed to have to do it! It's about finding purpose in the course of one's existence and pursuing that purpose with singleness of mind, heart and spirit, and being liberated to do so!

My particular concern has always been for the YOUTH in Caribbean nations - that demographic which is supposed to be representative of our nations' individual and collective futures ... the statistics are far from impressive. Apart from the spate of senseless murders targetting children and youth in this country, there are the scores of unemployed, undermotivated and uneducated youth who just feel and look hopeless.

In some ways, I'm like everybody else - I'm here. I'm sitting here in this chair in this large edifice typing at this desktop computer. You can see me, a touch would startle me, you can probably smell me (hopefully my cologne, lol) because I'm REAL. I'm alive.

So what am I getting at? What's eating me up? The thought that despite my obvious physical existence, I'm not as present as I'd like to be. See, my mind ... how do I put this?? My mind is not settled here, even if my body is. It's still stretching and reaching for other places, other avenues, other destinations.

And this has been the story of my life - a constant pursuit of something ... higher? Nobler? Better? I'm always looking to the next step - the next big thing. I don't think that I've ever really settled anywhere. I watched Julia Roberts in 'Eat, Pray, Love' and laughed out loud because her character reminds me so much of me (minus the actually going anywhere part). But I always want to. Go somewhere. Be somewhere else. In whatever sense you read that, it's probably true.

Some people have tanks that are fuelled by the events of their past. Others run on the exhilaration of being fully entrenched in the present. I run on future - the thing and time that is yet to be. And I'm always reaching for it, looking to it ... Now don't get me wrong. I have this gift of throwing myself so fully into whatever I'm doing that sometimes it seems like that's all there is to me. But. The part of me that never dies is the part that reaches out to the next thing - whatever the thing might be - the next experience, the next adventure, the next story.

Let us not look back in anger. Or forward in fear. But around in awareness.

That's one of my favourite James Thurber quotes. I've memorised it since I was in high school. But the other day, I was reading through my book of quotes, going over my vision document (yes, I actually have one), and it hit me: when do you start looking around in awareness? The minute you take your eyes from before you or behind you and direct them to the spot in which your feet are planted; the minute your mind becomes actively engaged in your present ... when you stop fading out the voices you'd rather not hear and start listening to their every inflection. When you start looking people in the eyes and seeing the whole person, not just the job title, description and rank. When you start living not just as you are, but as you ought to be because that is what matters.

Open eyes. Open mind. Open arms. Open life. And that's what I've been doing since then: Coming alive.

What's Jamaica's NEET story?

2011-08-24T19:28:00.000-07:00

August 12 was celebrated as international youth day. Not that very many Jamaican youth would know. Or care. To them, it would be just another day, because unless they had been involved in something like acing GSATs, getting 10 CSEC subjects, or winning Olympic gold medals, they'd probably feel like the country doesn't care very much about them anyway ... probably.

And that's probably the way British youth felt, too, when they decided to take to the streets in what was intended to be a peaceful protest over the police shooting of 29-year-old Mark Duggan earlier this month. Twelve hours later, there was mayhem and madness - looting, burning ... a full-fledged riot was on. And it was youth at the helm.

While there is widespread consensus on what happened during the riots, divergent views abound as to why it happened. Was it the result of British morality's demise? Was it the inevitable outworking of selfishness groomed in this 'me-first' generation? Was it just a bunch of black Brit opportunists spreading their nihilistic culture (ask David Starkey about that)? Or were the rioters desperate, frustrated, unemployed and dispossessed youth finally getting their nation's attention?

Well, what if they were the latter?

In a Guardian article titled 'Looting Fuelled By Social Exclusion', Alexandra Topping quoted Professor John Pitts, youth culture expert, as saying that most of the rioters were from "low-income, high-unemployment estates" without "legitimate futures". He said, "Much of this was opportunism but in the middle of it there is a social question to be asked about young people with nothing to lose."

The Washington Post editorial of August 9 noted that "This is becoming a year of rebellion by the dispossessed." Their portentous warning: "At a time of economic disruption, no country is immune from such upheaval." No country. Especially not Jamaica.

The BBC identified 18 to 24-year-old English youth who are not in employment, education or training as NEET (capitalised for emphasis). Pointing out that 18.4% of England's youth population is in that predicament, the news service identified several contributing factors: cutbacks in career services, the discontinuation of the Education Maintenance Allowance, lessening youth apprenticeships, and a general disregard for the growing levels of disempowerment, dissatisfaction and unemployment among youth.

This is where it gets interesting, because over the years, Jamaica has seen a growing discontent among its own youth population. The Gleaner's editorial of August 16 drew parallels between Britain's situation and ours, noting that nearly 60 per cent of Jamaicans 15-29 are either unemployed or out of the workforce altogether: "That is nearly 400,000 young people. Perhaps 100,000 youth of school age are 'unattached' - they are not in school, not engaged in other forms of training, nor have jobs". That's our NEET.

The editorial went on to note that "it is largely from this group of jobless and largely unemployable youth that come the perpetrators of so much antisocial behaviour and who commit, or are victims of, 80 per cent of the country's murders". That's our NEET's story. They're not rioting yet, but they are well on their way. We'd do well to heed Gleaner's closing warning:

"If you hear a ticking, it may just be a time bomb among these drifting, disenchanted youth. The urgent task for policymakers is to find a way to defuse it."

Marco Tempest: The magic of truth and lies (and iPods) | Video on TED.com

2011-08-17T12:32:00.000-07:00

Marco Tempest: The magic of truth and lies (and iPods) | Video on TED.com

David Starkey's Big Booboo

2011-08-15T08:58:00.001-07:00

"The whites have become black ... a particular sort of violent, destructive, nihilistic, gangster culture has become the fashion ..." Ooh, so that's what black culture is!

The response gives food for thought ...

And yet another thought-provoking response in the Gleaner's editorial of Sept 5.

What Emancipendence Was Supposed To Mean ...

2011-08-01T16:07:00.001-07:00

Today, August 1, is Emancipation Day for Jamaica. Today we celebrate being 'set free, especially from legal, social, or political restrictions' (according to some online dictionary). Funny how this should crop up at a time when people are still debating whether or not we'd be better off as a British colony. Funny how on this most public of Caribbean holidays, we're still having trouble agreeing on the safety/desirability of regional airline carriers, our governments still bicker and frequently snub each other, and our nations are, by and large, wholesalely underdeveloped.

But here we are - we the emancipated.

August 6 will be Independence Day. A day on which we will celebrate 'the fact or sate of being free from outside control; self-governing; not depending on the authority of another' (according to the dictionary on my desktop). Never mind that we're still unable to adequately support the 2.5 million people on this little rock; never mind that more than half of our national resources and key industries have been sold to foreign entities; never mind the unemployment, illiteracy, crime, violence and general sense of frustration, deprivation and fear that punctuates Jamaican life.

Here we are. We the independent.

We claim it proudly. Because, like the antsy teenager who couldn't wait to leave her parent's home and stake her lot in the world, Jamaica is still lost in the reverie of adolescent pride - that first job, that first car ... that first 'real' kiss. But Jamaica is no teenager. Or young adult. Or even in midlife (although we have a crisis). We say we're 50, but that's not true either. Long before Britain decided to cut us loose, we were alive as a nation, plotting and planning our 'escape', dreaming of the day when we would finally be free. We watched them misuse, abuse, mismanage and misdirect. We saw the mistakes they made. Our minds didn't click into motion when Britain said, "We don't want you anymore." We were alive long before that. We're much older than 50. And it's time we started acting like it!

Emancipation? Independence? They are historical processes our nation went through - stages in our metamorphosis, aspects of our becoming ... . We did not begin to exist with these processes (as some seem to believe). So when we celebrate these holidays, when we claim these days as times to look back to our roots and assess our progress, I urge us to own our age - our real age - to see the full, open, barefaced truth of just how much/little has been accomplished.

Ah, yes. Here we are. We the emancipated. We the independent. A nation in denial of its age in attempt to assuage its ego? Happy Emancipendence to all.

'Survive' by Jacques Roche

2011-07-13T18:54:00.000-07:00

This poem was written by a Haitian poet, journalist, activist Jacques Roche, who was killed six years ago this month. It's really beautiful, and I think the poem does justice to itself and its writer. Let it speak to you ...

You can destroy my house
Steal my money
My clothes
And my shoes
Leave me naked in the middle of winter
But you cannot kill my dream
You cannot kill hope
You can shut my mouth
Throw me in prison
Keep my friends far from me
And sully my reputation
Leave me naked in the middle of the desert
But you cannot kill my dream
You cannot kill hope
You can put out my eyes
And burst my eardrums
Cut off my arms and legs
Leave me naked in the middle of the road
But you cannot kill my dream
You cannot kill hope
You can cover me with open sores
Poke an iron into the wounds
Take pleasure in torturing me
Make me piss blood
You can shut me away without pen or paper
Treat me like a madman
Drive me mad
Humiliate me
Crush me
Give me no food or water
Make me sign my surrender
But you cannot kill my dream
You cannot kill hope
You can kill my children
Kill my wife
Kill all those I hold dear
Kill me
But you cannot kill my dream
You cannot kill hope

Guess Who's Back?!!

2011-07-12T12:44:00.000-07:00

Dear Jason,
What took you so long?!! I nearly had a fit without you!! I swear, I really missed you! Why were you gone for so long? Don't you know that work is not the same without you? That my days are quite dreary and just - blah - when I haven't got your sketch comedy to listen to, especially when the constant whining about your absence starts to sound like an unhealthy obsession?

Jason, listen, seriously. Don't do that again. Don't leave me like that. Prior notice would be greatly appreciated, so that I can try to find suitable replacement (if that is possible). You can't get a person hooked on you, and then just up and disappear like that. It's not funny. And it's not fair. So don't ever do that again.

PS Tell BBC I said thanks for hearing my cry and bring back the Byrne! I love 'em that much more for it!

So, yeah, it took them a whole two months or so, but they brought back my Irish comedian, and I am absolu-totally-n-wholly thrilled! I love love LOVE Jason Byrne! I mean, seriously, I LOVE him, and I really really REALLY missed that show. He was gone for waaaay too long, and I'm just TOO excited to have him back.

Quick update

2011-07-07T16:10:00.000-07:00

Life is good. Check that. Life is GOLDEN.

I'm still living, learning and growing. I'm staying on top of my game and making progress - sometimes painfully slow, but always steady and sure!

I'm here. Love y'all!! Thanks for the support, the big-ups, the one-liners, two-liners and sometimes whole paragraphs of love that you keep showering on me. I'm not missing. I'm still right here ... and still very much large and in charge.

God is good.
Peace.

Hope Springs!

2011-06-16T08:11:00.000-07:00

He thought it was over.
She thought she was through.
They thought they couldn't live anymore.
I thought I'd seen the best of 'em all.

But then, hope springs.

And there's a new day.
And he can still smile.
She finds a laugh.
They share a group joke.
And I live to see it all.

Hope springs.
Don't forget it.

What Speaks To My Most Authentic Self?

2011-05-25T14:52:00.000-07:00

That's my question of the day. I heard a renown educator pose it to an audience, and it hit me: what speaks to my most authentic self? For a moment, I thought I'd have a ready answer. Because, gosh, I know me so well, right?

Wrong. There was/is/has been (note change to present continuous tense) prolonged contemplation. Then here I am, blogging about it, and still not in any definitive way. What speaks to MY most authentic self? WHAT speaks to my most authentic self? What speaks to my most AUTHENTIC self? It is, I admit, a worthy question.

What I love about this question is how it is personalised. It's not asking about YOUR most authentic self (no offence to you, I assure you I value and highly esteem your self and its authenticity). It's asking about ME and MY authenticity. It's talking about ME from MY paradigm, MY perspective, MY point of view. I think many people have become so absorbed in (and by) their environments that they have forgotten the existence of their authentic selves, and the need to nurture them. We can get so caught up in being politically correct that we begin to create - and nurture - a self that engenders what everyone around us wants us to be, but that betrays the very essence of those elements that speak most to who we really are or want to be.

It's like kids growing into adults and forgetting the importance of having and pursuing dreams with firm belief in their possibility. The kid had the big heart, but not the knowledge. The adult has no heart, lotsa *negative* knowledge. And, for some reason, society affirms the adult, rehabilitates the kid, but never considers a way to consolidate both points of view.

I love this question because it asks us to go back to basics and rediscover genuineness and authenticity. It asks us to do more than just get by under the shroud of conformity. It forces us to face up to what is different and real about each of us - and to own it. I hope you take the time to answer the question.

As the World Turns ...

2011-05-19T13:13:00.000-07:00

My mind is screaming to go beyond established walls. Beyond the boundaries of chronic limitation.

Like Mandela, there's a gnawing in me, because powerlessness must not be tolerated. It must not be accepted. It must be fought. And inertia can be a disease that debilitates forever. And it must be avoided at all cost.

'Wutlissniss' has to start somewhere. It starts on the day when you decide to slow down. That one moment when you decide to 'take a break' can somehow metamorphosise into years. Years of breaks and breaking. Until finally, you see something new taking form. Water comes together. Dry land appears. Shoots and roots burst into being. The wheels of time keep turning in endless revolutions.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Aha ... Eureka! A revolution. An evolution.

Bring back the Byrne!!

2011-05-18T15:36:00.000-07:00

Jason Byrne, of the BBC's Radio 2's
The Jason Byrne Show.

I'm a sucker for BBC programmes (Jamaicans, I mean the internationally known TV/RADIO station/news service, not the cloth!). It could very well be a cultivated bias (because I've become a kind of BBC buff, with a marked interest in all things BBC). Or it could be that the quality of their programmes appeals to me like no other broadcasting group's programmes have. Whatever the reason. Here I am. The BBC buff.

I especially love their iPlayer service because it affords me the luxury of listening to pre-recorded programmes at my leisure. So, for example, I can catch up on programmes from Radio 4 and 2 that I wouldn't otherwise hear (because those stations are not available in Jamaica). And that's exactly what I do. I listen to either the World Service live (I love World Have Your Say and the News Hour), or something on the iPlayer.

I'm particularly in love with their comedy offerings. I think they're fantastic! The wit. Puns. Clever riddles and literary wheeling and dealing ... I love it! My favourite type of comedy has to be sketch. It requires the kind of on-the-spot, quick thinking that leaves my adrenaline peaked, pulse racing and general respiratory cavity breathless from chronic laughter. I love The News Quiz, I'm Sorry I Haven't A Clue, Just A Minute, The Unbelievable Truth, Saturday Stand-Up ... but most of all, I absolutely adore this Irish sketch comedian called Jason Byrne! He's dynamite! And hilarious. The wit. The jokes. The Irish accent ... *swoons*. You get the picture.

He's become a big (read really important) part of my weekly BBC diet, much like a glance at the BBC's news home page has become a seriously indispensible part of my daily routine.

Imagine my surprise when I couldn't find his programme on my iPlayer anymore. I felt crushed. Deserted. A little lost. A lot upset. And empty (how's that for dramatic, lol). How could the BBC - my one true love - have jilted me in this way? I wasn't even this upset when they ended the Caribbean service and dashed to pieces every bit of hope I'd had of one day working there. No. That hurt. But not as much as this kidnapping of my weekly bit of Irish heaven. I was incensed! Still am.

I've gone a week without him and I don't think I can last. Nothing is the same. The BBC has GOT to listen to me on this one. Lives are stake here, so bring back the Byrne!!! I must find him on my iPlayer tomorrow, or else ...

PS In case you're wondering, I didn't find him on my player the next day. Still haven't. And, yes, sadly, I'm surviving. But how happy I'd be if they'd oblige me and bring my Byrne back!

Blog-a-day Challenge: Day 25 - A song you could listen to all day without getting tired of it

2011-04-21T00:00:00.000-07:00

Hmph. I do that so often with SOOO many songs (an annoying habit to other people, I know, I've learnt, hehe). But this one, I think, tops the lot (and I know because I've done it!).

It's a recent fixation, a relatively new-found love.

Blog-a-day Challenge: Day 24 - A song you've danced to with your best friend

2011-04-20T00:00:00.000-07:00

Hehehe. I did dance to this song with one'a mah hall frenzies.

Blog-a-day Challenge: Day 23 - A song that you cannot stand to listen to

2011-04-19T00:00:00.000-07:00

OK. This is pretty difficult because I just don't have any songs that get to me that much. Oh no. Wait. Yes I do. That Rihanna song. Not the Umbrella one. The one about going downtown. Ugh. Sorry. Out of respect for you, I will not be placing it here. But I'm sure you know exactly what I'm talking about... Yeah, that one.

Blog-a-day Challenge: Day 22 - A song that someone sang to you

2011-04-18T00:00:00.000-07:00

When I was a little lassie. My mommy used to sing this song to me. I think it was the first song I learned... and a good one too. Here's Jesus Loves Me :-)

Blog-a-day Challenge: Day 21 - Your favourite song

2011-04-17T00:00:00.000-07:00

Oh come on!! There is no way you can expect me to choose just one favourite song out of the many I have!!! That's ludicrous!! Anyways, if I must choose one favourite song, I have to think carefully about it and, let's see ... Nope. There's no way I can choose just one song. Just NO WAY! i love too many songs for equally important but vastly different reasons.

I love and give five stars and two thumbs up to ALL Hillsong songs!
I LOVE Jeremy Camp! (Have you heard Let It Fade and There Will Be A Day?)
I'm loving Matthew West and Britt Nicole and Michael W. Smith and Casting Crowns and Avalon and Chris Tomlin and Lincoln Brewster and Mandisa and David Crowder and Toby Mac and Nicole Mullen and Jaci Velasquez and Aaron Shust and Addison Road and Tenth Avenue North and Natalie Grant and Newsboys (omg, I LOVE these guys), and delirious (even though they've dibanded - they AWESOME). And I have favourite songs from all of them. And that's just one genre of music. I have others.

Like

Blog-a-day Challenge: Day 20 - The last song alphabetically in your iPod

2011-04-16T00:00:00.000-07:00

W for West, as in Matthew West. The song is The Motions - a very powerful song about giving your all and having no regrets. It's a real motivator for me. play this at work when I need to remember that I MUST give 100% and live a life of NO REGRETS!

Blog-a-day Challenge: Day 19 - The first song alphabetically in your iPod

2011-04-15T00:00:00.000-07:00

B for Battistelli, as in Francesca Battistelli. The song is Beautiful Beautiful. I love it because, well, I know God's making me into somebody even more beautiful than I am lol :) . It's an AWESOME song for anybody from any religion. You'll luvvit!

Blog-a-day Challenge: Day 18 - A song you love but listen to rarely

2011-04-14T00:00:00.000-07:00

I love this song so much. But, to be honest, I jive to it when I hear it, but I don't play it very often. It's a kool song tho.

Blog-a-day Challenge: Day 17 - A song that makes you want to dance

2011-04-13T00:00:00.000-07:00

Yeah man!! This here is a WINNER!! It just says 'Get up and MOVE IT!!'

Blog-a-day Challenge: Day 16 - A song that has made you cry

2011-04-12T00:00:00.000-07:00

My friends on hall know that I tear up pretty easily. So, alla them gathered into one room one day to watch me listen to this song (because they knew I'd cry). I didn't disappoint them.

Bob Carlisle's Butterfly Kisses

Blog-a-day Challenge: Day 15 - A song you love singing along to

2011-04-11T00:00:00.000-07:00

Hahahaaa. Ask my former Print labite classmates, or my present coworkers, this song gets me EVERY time!! Whenever I hear this song, I just can't help but bust a tune! It's my hopeful song and I just love it, love it, love it!!

Blog-a-day Challenge: Day 14 - A song that reminds you of your boyfriend

2011-04-10T00:00:00.000-07:00

Hehe. Well. Ok. No explanation. I won't incriminate myself on here. Just listen to the song :)

Blog-a-day Challenge: Day 13 - A song that reminds you of a former friend

2011-04-09T00:00:00.000-07:00

Well, what can I say? We called her Lightning on hall and she was always busy busy busy, so here's Flight of the Bumblebee.

Blog-a-day Challenge: Day 12 - The last song you heard

2011-04-08T00:00:00.000-07:00

The last song I heard is actually the last song I sang this morning on my way to work. Another gospel fave. Here's Twila Paris singing Oh Lamb Of God.

Blog-a-day Challenge: Day 11 - A song on the soundtrack of your favourite movie

2011-04-07T00:00:00.000-07:00

But I don't have a favourite movie. I have favourite MOVIES!! How do I work this out? I'ma choose a favourite song from one of my favourite favourite movies... The Sound of Music!! In fact, the song is called My Favourite Things. That film is sooo awesome - and timeless!!

Blog-a-day Challenge: Day 10 - A song by your favourite band

2011-04-06T00:00:00.000-07:00

By far, the group I love the most in this whole wide world (at this point in my life, lol) is a Christian alternative group called Hillsong United. So, here's to them! This is one of my favourite songs from them: You Hold Me Now.

Blog-a-day Challenge: Day 9 - A song that makes you feel hopeful

2011-04-05T00:00:00.000-07:00

I have so many of these! But here's the one that I sing to myself every so often...

Blog-a-day Challenge: Day 8 - A song that reminds you of your first love

2011-04-04T00:00:00.000-07:00

Ahm. It gets interesting. I dunno. My first love was books, if that's what you mean (*big grin*). But ok, seriously, whatever it was, it was young, secret, immature. Just like this High School Musical song, The Start Of Something New.

Blog-a-day Challenge: Day 7 - A song that reminds you of the past summer

2011-04-03T00:00:00.000-07:00

Last summer was quite uneventful. Nothing of note stands out in my memory, so ... here's to the sweet sounds of SILENCE.

Blog-a-day Challenge: Day 6: A song that reminds you of a best friend

2011-04-02T00:00:00.000-07:00

Actually, this reminds me of a good friend from high school to university: Shyan! Whenever I hear this song, I remember her ... (cause she was just the impersonation of every word of it).

Why I Still Watch the Commission of Enquiry

2011-04-01T10:31:00.000-07:00

You are a good and sensible heart. You, too, see past the charade to the seriousness of the issue. I hate this resignation to a crappy fate that Jamaicans have been displaying. And I intensely despise the arrogant nonchalance and politicking of what is, essentially, a human-rights issue. It is painful to watch the serious business of our nation bandied about like fanfare. It is painful to feel the snub of politicians who continuously trivialise serious and solemn issues of paramount national (and international) import.

But I MUST watch the Commission. I want the truth of their carelessness to be cemented so irreversibly in my mind that, please God, every piece of journalistic work - any kind or type of work that I create – will reflect with acute, meticulous and irrefutable precision and exactitude the reality of the Jamaica we live in. I want it branded into my mind so I can share it well, so I can paint so vivid a picture that readers, listeners - whoever - will understand clearly when I speak/write about it. Because we must never forget.

Comedy of Enquiry ... or Tragedy of Errors?

2011-04-01T10:08:00.000-07:00

Entertainment at its best?
Government at its worst?
The serious business of the people treated like fanfare.

Yes, Jamaica. This is the Dudus-Manatt Commission of Enquiry. We've finally replicated an O. J. Simpson-type scenario. Take a front-row seat. Prepare for temporary amusement. Hear the absurdities. Roll back your head, widen your eyes, jut out your chin, and laugh.

"When you do that, you make my adrenaline flow like the waters of the Dunn's River Falls," says one man to another. A very funny statement. And so, we laugh. We laugh in gaiety at the folly – the insidious ineptitude and injudiciousness of our leaders. We laugh, swept up in a tide of incredulous hilarity. Laugh at the drama - the comedy. Laugh at the irony - the frustrating futility.

Then pause - deliberately - take a moment for mindful breathlessness. A titter here. A giggle there. And slow, painful realisation. With whom do we laugh? At what do we laugh? Why are you laughing, sweet Jamaica? Like a naked woman in a jeering crowd, have you been laughing at yourself?

And have you now, realising your nakedness, made no attempt to cover your shame? As the world feasts on your vulnerabilities, why do you stand here still, and laugh?

Beware the permanent disgust - the nasty taste that will linger in their mouths, the sting of gall in the recesses of their oropharynxes, long after your commission is gone. Beware the sinking feeling that will nip at the hearts of your people. It will manifest in the next business transaction. It will reflect in the next general election.

But most of all, beware the moment when you stop laughing. When you stop laughing long enough to realise the hopelessness of it all. And then, Jamaica, let me hear you cry.

Blog-a-day Challenge: Day 5 - A song that is often stuck in your head

2011-04-01T00:00:00.000-07:00

You'll find this weird. A little funny perhaps. But it is true that since hearing it once, I can't get this stupid song out of my head ... Gotta admit the guy has a voice like dynamite ... and this is a LIVE studio session. Can you believe the awesome vocals? And, um, he's hot!

Blog-a-day Challenge: Day 4 - A song that calms you down

2011-03-31T00:00:00.000-07:00

Oh this is sooo hard! I have so many me-moment songs that have a fantastic, soothing effect!! But I'm choosing this one because I think it best represents my idea of peace and serenity: the shalom I always try to embrace.

Blog-a-day Challenge: Day 3 - A song that reminds you of your parents

2011-03-30T00:00:00.000-07:00

Hmm... kinda hard to think of a song that reminds me of my parents, but I'll try. They're the kinda happy-go-lucky, crazy-in-love, stuck-together-for-the rest-of-their-lives, whimsical couple that you'd see in older family-friendly sitcoms. They're sickeningly lubby-dubby too. Here's to them and their special brand of love. May I inherit even half of it, and replicate the experience with someone some day.

10 things to learn from Japan

2011-03-29T07:53:00.000-07:00

I got this in an email and thought it was very instructive. And wonderful.

1. THE CALM
Not a single visual of chest-beating or wild grief. Sorrow itself has been elevated.

2. THE DIGNITY
Disciplined queues for water and groceries. Not a rough word or a crude gesture.

3. THE ABILITY
The incredible architects, for instance. Buildings swayed but didn't fall.

4. THE GRACE
People bought only what they needed for the present, so everybody could get something.

5. THE ORDER
No looting in shops. No honking and no overtaking on the roads. Just understanding.

6. THE SACRIFICE
Fifty workers stayed back to pump sea water in the N-reactors. How will they ever be repaid?

7. THE TENDERNESS
Restaurants cut prices. An unguarded ATM is left alone. The strong cared for the weak.

8. THE TRAINING
The old and the children, everyone knew exactly what to do. And they did just that.

9. THE MEDIA
They showed magnificent restraint in the bulletins. No silly reporters. Only calm reportage.

10. THE CONSCIENCE
When the power went off in a store, people put things back on the shelves and left quietly!

Blog-a-day Challenge: Day 2 - A song that reminds you of your most recent ex-boyfriend

2011-03-29T00:00:00.000-07:00

Interesting one. But very easy. So easy, in fact, that I wasn't going to do it.

But then I thought, what the heck, a fact is a fact. So here goes. Everytime I hear this particular song, I remember him, because this was the last song we danced to before the break-up. And we both knew we were breaking up because we had come to the decision around the same time, and had agreed on it. So it was a save-the-last dance scenario (my earliest followers will remember my rants about Dude and what kind of romantic he was). But so yeah, that last last night. We danced. In a park. In open air. With people watching us and probably thinking we were crazy. To this song. And I've never forgotten it. You'll be glad to know he's still a friend today. I don't believe in bad break-ups. And after all, he was, and still is, a really cool kinda guy.

Blog-a-day Challenge: Day 1 - A song from my childhood

2011-03-28T08:21:00.000-07:00

I've been an avid reader since my very young days. I always say I learned the magic of books early, and that literary love affair has never stopped. Reading Rainbow was one of my all-time favourite TV programmes, so, I think the theme song brings back lots of happy childhood memories. I certainly spent many happy hours drinking in the new adventures LeVar Burton presented every week.

A Kool Meme Challenge

2011-03-27T13:28:00.000-07:00

So, I dropped by blahblahblog and found this meme ... and thought it was a totally awesome challenge. So, here goes. My second official blog challenge: a song for every day for the next 25 days coming up, because I LOVE memes too!!

Restless

2011-03-16T20:56:00.000-07:00

In my Vanity Fair Questionnaire post, I said that my state of mind was restless. I found this on Restless Development's Facebook page and thought it so perfectly described exactly what I was feeling that I had to borrow it and show it to you.

I was watching Courtney Martin talk the other day, and she said something that I thought was so profound: "I wrote the book I needed to read." She couldn't find it, so she WROTE IT!! And now that gap no longer exists in the world.

If Jamaican youth cannot find the answer we need to see in this nation anywhere else, are we willing to BE THE SOLUTION WE NEED TO SEE? Are we restless enough?

Pray we garner the courage to be the change we're waiting for.

When Women Win ...

2011-03-08T15:47:00.001-08:00

... the whole world gets better and brighter. We ARE change agents, and the whole world should know it.

Happy International Women's Day to one and all. 100 is a milestone that should not go unnoticed.

I was watching Isabel Allende in a TED Talk video (if you don't know TED Talks, you need to. They're awesome. Full stop). She was talking about the importance of passion, how the women she met on her walk during the Olympics were women of passion, living and working for a cause they believed in, and how essential that was.

Then I was reading Michelle Bachelet's speech at the official launch of UN Women.

Then I listened to Courtney Martin in another TED Talk about 'feministing', and how the young generation of feminists have changed the face and name of the game, but still toil for the cause that has not, in 100 years, lost meaning or validity.

Then I remembered a talk I had with my coworkers, and how they laughed at me for calling myself a feminist, and for proposing very unorthodox views about equality between men and women ... and I remembered my mother, and the pillar of strength and resilience that she has been. What if there was no women's movement? Could she be where she is today? Could I be who I am today?

It's been 100 years. But it's been a battle well worth it.

So here are is the final stanza of a poem I wrote as an ode to my grandmother:
'I am not weak-willed. I am strong.
The blood of a thousand warriors flows through my veins.
Long live indomitable woman.'

When Judges STRIKE ... It's Judgement Time!

2011-03-04T06:46:00.000-08:00

Photo taken from Jamaica Observer

What a thing when the people who enforce justice in a country can't get any justice for themselves ... This is not a case of who will guard the guards, this is a case of who will pay the guards, and give them all the promised benefits? And I can't help but wonder, where will the money come from?

We've developed a nasty habit of not paying people who work in essential services: We don't pay teachers. We don't pay nurses. We don't pay doctors. We don't pay civil servants. And now, we not paying judges. Seems like the only people getting paid up in here are government officials, crooks and their cronies, and anyone associated with this damned commission of enquiry. Anyone considering a career change? Maybe it's time for the whole country to strike, once and for all, and let Kingston become the next Tahrir or Tiananmen Square ...

I'm sure the judges will agree, it's time for action. It's time for JUDGEMENT!!

Fate of a Failed and Faithless State

2011-02-28T13:28:00.000-08:00

There I was, late for church, silently willing the chatterbox driver to go faster, and overhearing these two men talking about the driver's latest unfortunate run-in with the police (apparently he'd had several).

Then he made this statement: "Me nuh have no faith inna police nuh more. No rasta. Police or pastor. Me nuh have NO faith inna dem." (Translated: I have no faith in the police anymore. Not at all. Pastor or police, I have no faith in any of them).

And it made me think of our entire nation, because I've heard similar sentiments expressed on many other occasions. Our society is so riddled with corruption and frustration-inspiring situations that Jamaican people seem to have lost faith in a LOT of things and people. So here's my list of things I think we have no faith in anymore.

7. Government/politicians

We let that ship slide a long time ago. So long, in fact, that people no longer make a distinction between politics and corruption.

6. 'Di system'

It's not just government and politics. It's this unnamed, intangible entity/force that drives all the major industries/sectors in our country. 'Di system' is this organised series of events, an unwritten list of requirements that naturally excludes the masses and imposes injustice on the people.

5. Police

A common cry among our people is that the police force has become the nation's machinery for mass victimisation, bending to the wishes of their heartless dictators, many Jamaicans see police as the enemy, as 'Babylon', the ones who make life difficult for everyone.

4. Pastors/religious leaders

If ever there was a people/state who have been grossly disappointed by the Church, it's Jamaicans. Usually a strong Christian society, over the years Jamaicans have become the world's best and biggest religious sceptics. They've seen it all: from sex in the pulpit to pastors with guns, and they are not impressed.

3. God

Well, if the people who represent him constantly fail you, why believe anything they say or look to any reference point they offer?

2. The future

'Boy, tings dread,' is a common sentiment. And if that was all, it wouldn't bother me. But our people have begun to develop a posture of resignation. Like the listless brood in Ayi Kwei Armah's The Beautyful Ones Are Not Yet Born, they have become firm believers in a stagnant, unchanging, unchangeable society. The more things change, they say, the more they remain the same.

1. Themselves

And this is the part many of us don't realise. Our loss of faith in all these other things belies a deeper crisis. It's not just that we no longer believe in others or the system they work in, but it tells us - tells me - that we don't believe in ourselves. We no longer value our own capabilities and potential.

So that's my list. What do you think? Do you agree/disagree? What would you add? Minus? And are you one of the many Jamaicans/persons who have given up on this country? I hope not.

It's the UN International Year of Youth ... Just NOT In Jamaica!

2011-02-26T18:31:00.000-08:00

Yep. You heard right. Can you imagine? August 2010-2011 has been declared the second United Nations International Year of Youth, and Jamaica has rolled out NO programmes (that I know of, and I think if there was something, I would know) so far in recognition of this fact. Not even a little essay competition. Or something so. Nutting. Nada. Zilch. Makes you wonder if Ministry of Youth even knows what year it is.

I don't think Jamaican youth are lazy. Jamaican people, on a whole, are not lazy or aggressive or violent by nature. But I think it was Buju who sang, "Ciiircumstances maaade me what I am." Especially when those circumstances include short-sighted leadership that spends so much time chupsing sports stars, they don't have time to cast a glance at miniscule issues like youth empowerment, and ensuring that a year designated for dialogue and mutual understanding between youth and their counterparts actually gets any recognition ... Is chicken feed ting dat, right? Better to buss we head over where the grass at Trelawny MultiPurpose Stadium went.

What's more? This year has also been declared the Year of the People of African Descent. That's me and my AfroCaribbean neighbours. That's me and my ethnic brothers and sisters all over this world ... that's more than 80% of Jamaica!! But have we heard a peep about it? No maasah! We too busy having dramatic, Days-of-our-lives type enquiries to stop for a minute and realise that this year, more than any other year to date, is all about us. It's about the African people. It's about youth. Two key factors - a bandwagon I wouldn't mind the government getting on (since they seem prone to wagonist thinking).

I going stop talk now though. I feel a tad bit upset and sleepy. And when I feel that way, my posting can get erratic and uncharismatically blunt. So let me stop now before I say something ... wrong. But don't blame me for being upset. I sing with Buju (and no, I not trying to give him a forward or a buss or show solidarity or nothing so, the song just happen to fit with the post) ...

"Circumstances made me what I am
Was I born a violent man?
Circumstances made me what I am
Everyone should understand

Circumstances made me what I am
Was I born a violent man?
Circumstances made me what I am
Everyone should know ...

If we don't give our youth the opportunities they need now, if we refuse to take advantage of important milestones like these, then the youth will find other ways to express themselves ...

Vanity Fair Questionnaire

2011-02-23T14:32:00.000-08:00

**Stolen from Lady Putz, who borrowed it from Vanity Fair.

What is your idea of perfect happiness?
The Jewish concept of shalom, ie, perfect peace in any situation.

What is the one thing more than anything else that you don't want to happen to you?
Dying with unused potential, unspent energy, unwritten books, untold stories, unsung songs, etc.

Which historical figure do you most identify with?
Nelson Rolihlahla Mandela ... fervent, unwavering belief in hope ... Amandla! Ngawethu!

Which living person do you most admire?
Mom. She is a house of prayer, tower of strength. And integrity in and out of the spotlight ... and regular people all over the world who make magic out of ordinary.

What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?
Erm ... sporadic unconfidence.

What is the trait you most deplore in others?
Deliberate cruelty ... cold, calculated wickedness, intolerance and insensitivity.

What is your greatest extravagance?
Usually the simplest pleasures: sunrises, sunsets, blue skies, calm seas ... oh yeah, and fancy pastry, ethnic jewellery, skirts and scarves.

What is your favourite journey?
Going out and going home. Out to an adventure. Home to rest. Nothing's quite as magical as the anticipation of the day's work, or a long trip away, and when someone asks where you're going and you get to say, "home" ... *enter blissful joy here*

What do you consider the most overrated virtue?
In today's society, virtues are grossly underrated!

On what occasion do you lie?
I try not to lie at all ;-)

What do you dislike most about your appearance?
I try not to dislike any aspect of me. But if I must choose something, it would probably be ... ???

Which living person do you most despise?
I don't think I despise anybody, but I intensely dislike people who are deliberately cruel, manipulative intolerant and insensitive ... why can't we all learn to respect each other's right to be ... ?

Which words or phrases do you most overuse?
“What?”

What is your greatest regret?
Hmnm ... hard one. And certainly nothing to be shared with cyberland.

What or who is the greatest love of your life?
Mi Lord. Then books/stories. Then journalism and cultures.

Which talent would you most like to have?
Omniscience.

What is your current state of mind?
Restless.

What do you consider your greatest achievement?
So far?? Umm ... changing the course of my family, generation ...

If you were to die and come back as a person or thing, what do you think it would be?
Probably the world's first inexhaustible pen ... I do love to write, lol.

If you could choose what to come back as, what would it be?
Bird. I like the idea of always having a song, flying free ...

What is your most treasured possession?
Ability to think, learn, grow, adapt, change and show affection (which I give freely yet with great restraint).

What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?
A purposeless life. Sadness that never goes away. No sunshine. No smiles. No warmth. No laughter. No love.

Where would you like to live?
A little bit of everywhere in every country in the world ...

What is your favourite occupation?
Writing, hands down ... then hearing/sharing great stories, inspiring others, being inspired, research, publication/home/fashion design, troubleshooting development issues, 'live-a-better-life campaigns, singing, smiling, laughing ... practising random kindness and senseless acts of beauty.

What is your most marked characteristic?
Passion. I emote, emote, emote ...

What is the quality you most like in a man?
Generosity, integrity, strength of character.

What is the quality you most like in a woman?
Without a doubt, strength and purposefulness.

What do you most value in your friends?
Humour, tolerance, respect.

Who are your favorite writers?
Where to start? There are so many! I love biographies ... people's stories that instruct, uplift, inspire ... People like Nelson Mandela, Ben Carson ...

What is it that you most dislike?
Deliberate cruelty, poverty, abuse, hunger, disease, inexplicable catastrophe that plagues the human heart, mind and soul ...and gross disrespect and intolerance for others.

How would you like to die?
Empty. Spent. Fulfilled. Epitaph: Here lies a woman who lived a FULL life and left nothing undone.

What is your motto?
You live, you learn, you grow ...

Women's Rights Violation STILL A Problem!

2011-02-20T17:04:00.000-08:00

Two news stories published last Thursday have returned my attention to that ever-present and ire-inspiring issue of women's rights and freedoms in this my beloved country.

Photo found via Google Images, from here

The first was about a 12-year-old girl who was strip-searched at the Norman Manley International Airport in Kingston. According to the news report, she was asked to 'remove her pants and underwear following an upper-body pat down search'. Later, her mother said that the officer conducting the search questioned her daughter about her menses. Now, you tell me, what does a 12-year-old's menstruation have to do with airport security? And couldn't the officer have been more humane and, well, decent, considering that she was violating the privacy of a child? I felt violated just reading the story! (See the news story here).

The next issue was an exotic dancer who was allegedly gang-raped by five policemen.Gang-raped. According to the news report, she was working when a bus full of policemen arrived and proceeded to raid her workplace. A group of them gathered around her, shielding their activities from the public, sat her on a stool, and proceeded to rape her one by one. Oh the horror. The trauma. The injustice of it! (See the news story here)

What I find particularly disheartening is that in both instances, the women were (allegedly) victimised at the hands of security enforcement officials. Isn't that ironic and sad? The people to whom these women should have been looking for protection were the very ones who caused them needless pain, embarassment and trauma. When you can no longer depend on the security forces in your own country for help and, well, security, where do you turn? Is it time for us to double our padlocks, grills and bolts and create underground shelters and secret exits? Oh. Right. We've already done that.

I sincerely hope that in both cases, justice will be served. It is sad that we can still identify instances of gender-based violence against and victimisation of our women and girls. All we ever ask for is RESPECT: respect of our rights, freedoms and civil liberties, and a recognition of our entitlement to safety and security ... especially from the security forces!

Jamaica, Grow UP!

2011-02-17T18:22:00.000-08:00

Photo from bestourism

"We want justice!"
"Fiyah fi Babylon!"

Jamaicans have this uncanny ability to express solidarity with the most questionable characters when it suits them, especially when said character, whom they would otherwise loathe, happens to be pitted against a person/group they find more unpalatable. They will hug up said character and love them gone to bed, just to spite the opponent, who bears the brunt of their greater 'despisement' (as my granny would call it).

They also have this maternal tendency to express everlasting solidarity with 'sons and daughters of the rock'. When convicted of a crime abroad, a 'yardie' can do no wrong. Even if said yardie did in fact do wrong, it had to be under some sort of dubious circumstance. The Jamaican psyche will create a malicious, ill-intended 'them' and swear on their dead granny's grave that this 'them' is fighting against yardies everywhere, including the uninvolved-except-in-my-mind 'me'. And this group of yardies everywhere, including the previously-uninvolved-now-fully-embroiled-in-the-struggle-for-freedom 'me', becomes transformed into the ever-righteous collective, commonly known as 'us'.

A bit much to take in? Read it again slowly. I promise you, it makes sense. And no, this has nothing to do with Buju Banton's trial, though I will admit that the reactions I have seen sort of prompted this train of thought.

So now we have an 'us' versus 'them' scenario, which easily and accurately describes the attitude civilians have towards police and other law enforcement officials/groups, politicians, government, 'the system', etc.

It's always 'us' - a disempowered, undderrepresented, uneducated, impoverished and unemployed majority - fighting against 'them' - a system, or a representative of a system of oppression, disenfranchisement, enslavement or unfair domination.

'Them' always have money, power and privilege on their side. And 'us'? 'Us' sit around waiting on 'them' to help us, bemoaning our condition and lamenting our pitiful situation; 'us' bear placards and scream for justice on national TV every night; 'us' bawl and grovel when we lose our sons and daughters to violence and crime ... but this same 'us' will curse the police and hug up the don who will come back later to demand sexual favours from our underaged daughter. 'Us' will curse the government and the injustice of the system, but still take the curry and rice to vote for the same incompetent party at election time. This is life for 'us'. And we can't see it getting any better.

Neither can I.

Not until 'us' realise that we don't have to choose the lesser of two evils - that we don't have to choose evil at all! Not until 'us' stop making excuses for our refusal to be empowered; not until 'us' learn to stop seeing ourselves as victims and reactors to any crap this government dishes out to us. Not until 'us' wake up, stand up, speak up ...

Egypt did it. And it worked! Tahrir Square will forever tell that story.

I've heard a lot of Jamaicans asking when our time for real, serious political change will come. I have a question of my own: When will 'us' stop blaming 'them', being afraid of 'them', and confront 'them' to let 'them' know, once and for all, that we demand better because we deserve better?

Next year (2012), Jamaica will celebrate 50 years of being an independent nation, but unless we take Bob Marley's words to heart and emancipate ourselves from mental slavery, our jubilee will represent nothing more than a fleeting, insignificant figure on time's continuum ...

After 49 years, you'd hope we'd learnt the important lessons and, like the Apostle Paul admonished, put away childish things. It's time for 'us' to act our age. It's time for Jamaica to GROW UP!

Suspending A Blogging Teacher??

2011-02-16T07:05:00.000-08:00

Photo from Yahoo

This story on Yahoo about high school teacher, 30-year-old Natalie Munroe, caught my eye. To summarise, it spoke about the fact that she blogged about her students (anonymously) and was suspended for saying negative things about them (even though she did not identify them in any way).

Among other things, she called her students 'disengaged, lazy whiners', and they (students and school) were none too happy about it. These students found her blog and must have identified themselves in her very descriptive and honest post, brought it to the school's attention, and wallah ... she was suspended. Miss Munroe must have thought at that point, 'the whiners win again'.

It gets me concerned to think that the teacher was suspended for speaking her mind. Think about it. This woman is writing on her personal blog. She is speaking out of deep frustration. Must she take a fall for speaking the truth without doing any real harm to anyone? Because no one, or very little people, would have known that she worked at the school or would have known which students she was talking about if they had not made such a big stink out of it.

As one speaker pointed out, she could have been any teacher in any high school in America. Is it fair for her to be suspended? Is it fair for the school to take that step? And what is the alternative? Are they saying that teachers should not be allowed to keep personal blogs or to write honestly about their work experiences on them? And, by extension, are they implying that professionals should not blog honestly about their work experience, even if they are doing so under the shroud of anonymity?

As with all things private and professional, responsibility and discretion must be exercised. But where do we draw the line between unfair, unwarranted censorship and freedom of expression?

Inspiring? Who? Me?

2011-02-15T12:02:00.000-08:00

"Ruth, you know you inspire me, right?"

I wasn't faking modesty when I looked surprised. I was genuinely surprised. Because in all my 20-something years of existence, the last two are probably the most uninspiring I've ever felt in my life! I just don't feel like much of an inspiration lately. I know that will soon change, because I REFUSE to give up, but still, right now, it is what it is.

I smiled and asked, "Really? Why?" And I was honest. I wanted to know why.

"Because you've been fulfilling your goals. You're living your dream of working in media. You've always loved writing and you haven't stopped. You're getting ahead."

I laughed, and there was sarcasm in it. I mean, I appreciated the compliment, but she had no idea. So I flipped the script.

"Actually," said I. "People like you inspire me."

It was her turn to look sheepish and flabbergasted. "Me? No way. I just can't seem to get it together."

I nodded. "Yeah. I know a lot of people like that ... who just can't seem to get it together. But that doesn't stop them from trying. And I always respect people who, no matter what life throws at them, know how to pick up the pieces and carry on with what they have to do. Those are the real heroes - the silent champions .. and you're one of those."

She looked shocked and shy. But I meant it. She's much younger than I am ... just started university last year. She has no father to speak of. Her mother tried to sell her to men for money when she was younger. She was basically adopted and raised by a Catholic nun, who also paid what she could for her schooling. She has brothers and sisters all over this country - known and unknown. Her father was very generous with his seed. He understood the biblical directive to cast his bread upon the waters ... But despite all of that, she's in university studying the arts ... she's getting ahead.

Afterward, I was thinking that I know a lot of people like her. Coming from a small, rural community, I see stories like that pretty often - people who think they just can't seem to get it together who are actually doing pretty well. It's funny, because many times, if we stop looking so intently at ourselves and look around us, we'll see that the faults we constantly berate ourselves for can also be found elsewhere. We are not one of us perfect. But we are not one of us completely flawed either. There's good and bad in everybody. And that's reason to hope for all. I get inspired by people like my friend. Regular people ... very ordinary, who put the dare in dreams and the possibility in maybe.

Funny how that worked out. I inspired her. She inspired me. May the cycle of inspiration never end ...

The Bruised Backside ...

2011-02-10T18:20:00.000-08:00

One plus one equals two. Because when you take one thing, and add it to another thing, you end up with two things. It stands to reason. It makes sense. It FOLLOWS.

When you use a football field as the venue for a concert, and there is rain, and a huge crowd of stomping, jumping, dancing people, you should expect the field to be ruined by the end of the seven-day event. The grass will go missing, not because some mysterious stranger took 500 truckloads of it (like they did with the sand off one unfortunate gentleman's beachfront property two years ago), but because the stomping, jumping, dancing people stomped down the grass, jumped on the mud, and danced around in it just enough to spread it over a noticeable area and kill off all of the grass ... It doesn't take a commission of enquiry or any serious investigation to figure that out. It's common sense. It FOLLOWS.

Photo from Jamaica Observer

When you carry in an official inspection team to survey that field 11 days after the concert, five days before an international sporting meet is expected to be held using that same stomped-on, jumped-on, danced-on, ruined field, you should expect them to declare it unfit for games. Not because they're biased and have a vendetta against your country. Not because the contractor 'faked' a field to show you (and even if he did, what did you expect him to do? Turn water to wine??). But because the field is ruined. And you cannot use a ruined field to host a serious international event. You cannot allow a player to fall on his backside in sun-dried, caked up mud instead of on that cushiony sea of lush green grass that is supposed to be there to prtect his derriere. The man will bruise! And the hurtful part for him would be that the lush green cushion for his backside was probably there before YOU decided to host a seven-day concert of stomping, jumping and dancing it to death, knowing full well that you were jeopardising the usability of the field thereafter, and thereby increasing the vulnerability of the poor man's netherend, not to mention hanging your country's reputation out to dry! It doesn't take a commission of enquiry or any serious investigation to figure that out. It's common sense. It FOLLOWS.

So when I hear Sports Minister Olivia Grange talking about conducting an investigation to determine why the Trelawny Multipurpose Stadium football field, which was used to host the Jamaica Jazz & Blues Festival over a seven-day period, is now a disgraceful, grassless mess, I have to seriously wonder when common sense became so ... uncommon. Of course the field was declared unfit to host the 2011 CONCACAF Under-17 World Cup Qualifying Tournament! It doesn't take a commission of enquiry or any serious investigation to figure that out. It's common sense. It FOLLOWS.

And the worst part? To quote Jamaica Football Federation general secretary, Horace Reid, "Our reputation has been tarnished as a country and as a football federation. Our reputation with CONCACAF has been tarnished and there will be repercussions down the road." Why were no alternate preparations made, especially considering the high probability of the field being damaged after a seven-day, continuous beat-down? In this instance, I feel more sympathy for the football field. It exits, stage left, with a sore, back-and-blue, bruised backside ... and Jamaica's reputation follows closely behind (no pun intended).

See the news story from:
Observer
Gleaner
RJR

62 million GONE!

2011-02-04T14:30:00.000-08:00

*Ghet-towz family living room*

Shenanae: Dis yah robbery yah CONNEK!

Mrs. Ghet-towz: What a body couldn't do with 62 million dollars ...

Mr. Ghet-towz: A body cudda mek a body wid dat ... cudda mek nuff body and mine dem!

Mrs. Ghet-towz: Eeh? Nuh badda wid dat. Try tek yuh mine offa making nuh more body and mine di one dem yuh have, awoi!

*Whole family laughs, intersperesed with exclamations of 'Raaaae', 'Woooi' and Laaaawd'*

Mrs. Ghet-towz: Mi nuh tink dem ago fine dem tief deh. Di ting well sort out. It plan good bad.

Mr. Ghet-towz: All if a police catch dem now, weh him ago do more than beg a piece'a di action?

Mrs. Ghet-towz: A di security guard dem weh get rob ago inna hot wata, cause a dem haffi go explain how dem mek di tief dem get weh ... an it look fishy fi true.

Mr. Ghet-towz: Mi sorry fi dem. All lie detector dem ago use pon dem ... wuddn waan fi inna fidem shoes.

Mrs. Ghet-towz: Kinda sad, though. Di tief dem get weh, an di man dem weh did a do dem job, a dem get eena trouble.

Mr. Ghet-towz: Nuh suh di system set. Honest people cyaan prosper. Look like mi haffi go find some tief an go rob a truck too ... an den start mek and mine some body!

*He touches shoulders with his wife, who pushes him away and hisses her teeth loudly, in between exclamations of 'Raaaae', 'Woooi' and Laaaawd' from their children*

Will the real PASSIONATE Jamaican youth please stand up??

2011-02-02T11:41:00.000-08:00

Photo from
Facebook Youth Stand UP campaign

Passion cannot be turned off. You either have it or you don't. So says one of my coworkers. A lot of our so-called youth leaders' actions are indicating a lack of serious, sustained passion for any meaningful development in our young people.

I often wish to see even a glimpse of old-time Jamaica, not because I have a nostalgic Achilles' heel, but because I'd love to see the kind of fire and passion that drove a nation full of enslaved chattels to fight - to their last breath - for a cause they believed in. I'd love to do an autopsy on Jamaica's freedom revolution - find out what killed it, when it died and why.

True, we've come a long way and there may no longer be a need for drastic, revolutionary action the likes of which our forefathers displayed, but still, I don't think enough of our people - enough of our youth - realise that we're not there yet! We have not yet attained the pinnacles of human success for which our forefathers fought! Honestly, with our high illiteracy, unemployment and disempowerment rates, we have not even scratched the surface of where our country and society ought to be, or wants to be.

It's like the Gleaner's acting opinion editor, Andre Wright, said in his letter last week - we're not angry enough. We've become so passive and receptive of whatever the Government and corporate sector dish out to us that we're all sailing to high tide in a handbasket, whistling Bob Marley tunes along the way ... And when we do get angry, it's about issues that are ephemeral and temporary.

It's high time for us to WAKE UP and TAKE ACTION. And our young leaders ought to be charting this course. Unfortunately, as we have seen, they're too busy repeating - with alarming accuracy - the mistakes of their predecessors.

To this day, I don't know (and I would love to know) what the outcome of their private meeting with the ministry of youth's parliamentary secretary was. The media was not allowed in the meeting (a move I would love an explanation for), and none of these young leaders have come forward to disclose anything except that the meeting was 'cordial' - how informatively vague!

It's ironic, because they went into that meeting to represent the interests of this nation's youth. Failing to communicate the outcomes of this meeting with the very people they went in there to represent raises more than a few questions and eyebrows ... it calls method and motive into question.

I'm not saying that ALL our nation's young leaders are at fault. However, I can only speak about what I have seen and experienced. Transparency is necessary in leadership, and, balanced by a rational, level head, there MUST be that essential element of PASSION.

Now, will the real PASSIONATE Jamaican youth please stand up??

Youth: Empowerment, Activism

2011-01-31T06:55:00.000-08:00

Photo from Google Search

A coworker of mine made the candid remark that youth activists should shut up and get 'real jobs'. I immediately questioned the notion of what 'real jobs' are ... was he, for example, saying that activism was not or should not be considered a factual, actual, verifiable and payable occupation?

PS: In case you're wondering where the proliferation of posts about youth empowerment and activism are coming from, you can check the links below:

The Gleaner article that started the whole debate
In essence, this article explains that in an Editor's Forum meeting, The Gleaner discovered that some of the nation's youth leaders are dissatisfied with how Minister of Youth Olivia 'Babsy' Grange is handling their portfolio, and expressed preference for the youth portfolio to be paired with education, instead of with culture, sports and information.

The response to the youth leaders' claim
In this article, Senator Warren Newby basically says that he wishes the youth leaders had directed their comments at him instead of at Minister Grange, and disclaims some of the points they raised.

One youth leader's response to Newby
Tafari Grayson, president of the Portmore Youth Council, disagrees with Senator Newby's response, stating that any comments regarding the handling of the youth ministry should be directed at Minister Grange, since people voted for her and not for Newby.

Then there was the meeting held in camera ...
... to which the media was not invited or allowed... and about which we have yet to hear anything substantial.

... and the one measly report about it
... which clears absolutely nothing up!

Then we have the commentators:
Betty Ann Blaine, Observer columnist, commending the youth for their bold step
Ken Chaplin, Observer columnist, saying youth leaders need greater organisation
Niawak, Jamaican blogger, asking 'what advocacy?'
Tyrone Hall, Jamaican blogger, student, calling our youth leaders 'baby blowhards'
JYAN's response, detaching themselves from the controversial youth leaders
The Gleaner's editorial, calling for deeper discourse

Laid back, detached and YOUNG!

2011-01-26T15:17:00.000-08:00

How ironic that while the Gleaner was trying to contact Youth Minister Olivia 'Babsy' Grange, or someone from her office, for a response to the many accusations/complaints levied against her administration by national youth leaders, Minister Grange and her officers were busy preparing for the Prime Minister's Youth Awards for Excellence, and therefore unable to respond to the urgent cries of the nation's next set of leaders.

A fitting metaphor of the country's current crisis.

The Gleaner's Editor's Forum has struck gold with their revelation of the dissatisfaction being experienced by Jamaica's youth leaders, sparking debates that have culminated in the issue of youth empowerment and development coming to the fore in print media. It is my sincere hope that this time, it will evolve from bickering, blame-gaming and naysaying into constructive discourse and the consequent implementation of workable solutions to what are, doubtless, important national issues.

The Gleaner's main story on Sunday, January 23, titled 'Boot Babsy', reported that the nation's youth leaders were extremely dissatisfied with the management of the youth portfolio by the minister with responsibility for information, culture, youth and sports, Olivia 'Babsy' Grange. There were suggestions by some of the young leaders that the portfolio should be paired with the Ministry of Education, which, in my view, is a suggestion that should be explored.

While some youth get highlighted and glorified by the nation's leaders, others - the majority - are often left unempowered and underrepresented. To be honest, I can't identify any point in my lifetime when I felt that Jamaican youth were receiving comprehensive, deliberate, consistent attention, whether through programmes or other such initiatives, that led to sustained growth and development in that demographic.

When I first read the news stories of young leaders expressing dissatisfaction with the lack of attention received from Government, especially the minister with responsibility for them, I thought, "Finally somebody is listening to us. Bravo, Gleaner.' Then I realised, sadly, that the more things change, the more they remain the same.

While these young leaders raise a ruckus and demand more attention, they will, once they get it, most likely become satisfied with pushing their own agendas and programmes, which, it can be reasonably argued, in most cases, will NOT be representative of the needs of the wider youth populace. It will, instead, represent what they think the needs of the youth are, based on their often limited and myopic understanding of the demographic they claim to represent.

As a friend pointed out, our young leaders sometimes remind me of politicians who scream and cry to get their hands into the kitty for the many good and virtuous causes of their constituents, only to miraculously forget all notion of goodness and virtue once that access is obtained. And woe be unto the constituents thereafter.

I sincerely hope that I am proven wrong. I hope that there will be sustained, lasting, positive change in our Government's attitude to youth, in our youth leaders' attitudes to the people they claim to represent, and in our youth's attitude toward themselves, for, as Marcus Garvey so aptly noted, "There shall be no solution to this ... problem until you (youth), yourselves, strike the blow for liberty."

More to come ...

Many Great Maybes ... maybe?

2011-01-10T13:10:00.000-08:00

I read through my draft posts today;
I looked at all the 'great' posts that almost were ...
I saw all the potentially explosive material that never was published, and maybe never will be.

And I thought of what it must be like for God, looking through the files of our lives ... seeing all the potential that lies dormant inside us. All that would be if ... , could be when ... , was supposed to be ...

And I made one resolution for this blog. This year, there will be no maybes, no what-ifs, no coulda-woulda-shouldas. I will finish and publish my posts, following the golden rule – keep it honest and simple.

What A Difference ...

2011-01-05T11:11:00.000-08:00

Some quote-on-quote 'celebs' stopped by my office the other day. They won the Digicel Rising Stars competition on 2006.

I didn't readiy recognise them. I knew they had to be some sort of popular personalities, but I couldn't figure out who they were.

"Who are they?" I asked a coworker.

"One-third." He replied. I couldn't believe it. They looked nothing like the guys I remembered from four year ago. In fact, I would never have guessed who they were if he hadn't told me. They looked very different, with edgy mohawk-type dos and the like ... very (for want of a better term) 'uptown'.

"What a difference a year makes," I said out loud.

"Well actually," another coworker interjected, "What a difference a hair makes."

:o)

Dreams Turned Hostile ...

2011-01-03T09:55:00.000-08:00

I will not stop this quest of mine.
I will see this thing through to the end.

He remembers the first time he came here - a little over three years ago. Bright, young, eager. Anxious to please. Eager to prove. Ready (he thought) to show up and show out. The question was never whether he was ready for them, but whether they were ready for him.

Then it happened. All at once. The next thing he knew, he lost his bearings, lost his ground and ooof! A huge, brawling, sprawling fall. He lost his illusions right there - in that minute. He slowly became this other person. Speaking only when spoken to. Answering only when called. Barely looking up from his computer's monitor, absorbed daily by a million and one insecurities - the infinite list of little things that offend, change character ... he lost his propensity for magnanimous dreams and larger-than-life hopes. He became tamed. Subdued. Broken.

Bruised and belittled by the savage machinery that overrides good sense in the corporate world, he has become a slave to what was once his desire. He has begun to think less wistful, more somber thoughts: of years chained to a desk, of savings accounts slowly depleted. His hope seeps away. He is unconsolably unhappy. His life is being drained. But this is what he must do to pay the bills.

I passed him yesterday. There he sits, swallowed and drowning in the routine of a life he never bargained for and never fully understood until it was too late ...

He's not alone.

Across Jamaica, around the world, there are people -old and young- who resent the faces they now see in the mirror. They hate and abhor what they have become. They, too, have forgotten, what it means to dream. On the altar of 'getting by', they have sacrificed their heart's fire; trading the gleam in their eyes for a monthly pay cheque, the spontaneity that once defined them for accursed routine.

I grieve for a people who must live not as they want, but as they are compelled to by 'circumstances beyond their control'. This new year, may we all find the time to rewrite our missions, recharge our ignitions, and go get those dreams before it is truly too late.

Happy 2011, and thanks for making it a wonderful 2010.

Love,
Ruthibelle.

Of Pride, Prejudice, Sense and Sensibility

2010-12-29T18:32:00.000-08:00

I've become very fond of theatrical recreations of Jane Austen's more prominent novels: Northanger Abbey, Sense and Sensibility, Pride and Prejudice, Emma, Mansfield Park, Persuasion ... in all these books, I can sort of identify with the heroine - the woman who learns to fall in love and live with the consequences.

There is an abundance of happy endings, but these, at least, are not cloying or nauseating. In fact, in most instances, the happy ending seems only natural and right - a fitting resolution to a most distressing conflict.

I watch all of these movies and, to an extent, I can relate: like Mansfield Park's Fanny Price, who doesn't realise that she loves Edmund until confronted with another love, and from then on, fiercely defends that love, that hope... because it has become an undeniable truth and a lifeline; like Ann, in Persuasion, who is influenced excessively by a well-intentioned, older woman, but eventually pulls away from the guiles of external effectors and makes up her own mind - just in time too; but more than all of these, I often feel like Northanger Abbey's little country bumpkin Cassandra, who is 'dangerously' raised to believe that everyone is as pure as she, and therefore gets herself into excessive trouble because she fails to see that the deceptive double lives people lead in the novels she reads are true reflections of reality - tragic as that may be.

Purity is one hallmark of Austen's characters. They all exude exceptional moral fortitude. It is the flower that most often attracts the bee ... So, if a young woman, in this day and age can flourish as an Austen heroine, or something similar enough, if only for a little while longer, let her be. Let her stand apart from the accomplished tempstresses and seductresses that already pollute our landscape.

All's Well That Ends Well, I Hope ...

2010-12-23T08:52:00.000-08:00

I am writing this blog post as the events unfold, not certain whether I should laugh or cry or shake my head in incredulity at the truly 'unique' events that characterise my life.

First off, my crew at work had this fabulous idea of a pre-Christmas dinner - a potluck sort of thing. It was awesome. And I bought into it TOTALLY.

Second, I was assigned to do the potato salad - not a challenging task in comparison to certainly more awesome feats of the roast beef and ham and baked chicken and candied yams and gungo rice and peas that my coworkers were attempting...

Third, yesterday, I worked the late shift, which meant that I was here until 11:30. When I got home, it was after 12:00 going to 1:00. Instead of rushing off to sleep (which my mind and body were begging me to do), I decided to push past the boundaries of human fatigue and make my coworkers a fabulous feast of a potato salad.

Now, there are about fifteen of us in this little pot luck. That meant that I was peeling, dicing, boiling and straining a whole lot of potatoes - not to mention the vegetables to be boiled and the eggs and the mayonnaise and whatever else that needed to be procured. But at last, after four this morning, going to five, I completed the task, set up my utensils, and went to bed.

Then this morning ...

After going to bed so very near to sunrise, naturally, I woke up late. Bad start. I ended up rushing to finish my salad. The eggs, while boiled, had not been shelled. I made the rookie mistake of leaving them in the same water they were boiled in overnight - so the damn things chipped and cracked in my hands and only one or two of the twelve came out perfectly round. Eventually, I finished the task and managed to leave home with about fifteen minutes to get to work. I tried calling a taxi service, but they told me that it would take at least fifteen minutes to get to me. I couldn't wait. I'd be late. So I headed on to the road and got a regular 'robot' cab to take me to work. That's $1,000. But I was desperate.

He drove off, and we were on our way. Lo and behold, the pre-Christmas traffic was a headache, backache, heartache, and would have made for quite a hoarse throat if I had followed the basic instinct to yell at every passing motor vehicle (I did not). It took me one hour to get to work - one long hour!! When we got there, I was so late and harried that I quickly paid the driver, dashed out of the cab, into the lobby, into the elevator and up to my floor to start what promised to be a very full day's work.

Then I remembered ... the potato salad. I left it in the car of a complete stranger with no way of contacting him and no time to go back for it. This, I thought, was the start of a perfect day.

It only got better. I called home to see if someone at home could go to the bus stop to check if the taxi driver was there, only to be told that the person was "tied up" in housework and could not leave home to walk the two to three minutes it would take to go to the bus stop and check for me.

It is now 6 p.m. I still have no idea where my potato salad is, or if I will ever get it back. I've been at work all day. We had our little dinner. It was great. There was so much food there that I don't think anyone really missed the salad, except maybe me. I can't readily forget the huge unopened jar of mayonnaise, my three plastic cover dishes, the tin of mixed veggies, my foil, my Ziploc bags, my cling film, my dishtowel, my one sharp knife, or the gym bag that contained them all. But more than those, I can't forget those potatoes ... I spent so much time peeling and dicing and boiling and straining ...

It's Christmas. It ought to be a happy time of year. Ah well. I ate. I drank. I might as well be merry. Even if I wasted all that time, all those resources, all that energy ...

Merry Christmas everybody. I'll whisper a prayer for you all. Tomorrow is another day. And soon, this too shall pass and fade into obscure memory.

I can't wait.

Spoilt Rotten

2010-12-17T00:00:00.000-08:00

I have to admit that my generation has it pretty good. Most of us don't even know it. When I saw this cartoon, I laughed so hard... then I thought about what my mom's response to any antics like that would be, and it was a sobering enough thought. Woe be unto the kid who wastes phone credit to call my mummy from the back seat of the same car she is in... to find out how close we are to a drive-thru?? Lord ha mercy! I can see the hell breaking loose!

The Days Are Winding Down (Or happy birthday to me)

2010-12-06T11:43:00.000-08:00

Ah yes, it's the most wonderful time of the year, and we here at ruthibelle have much to be thankful for ... Another year is coming to a close, and, yes, the days are winding down - nicely, I might add.

2010 has been, in a very true sense of the word, a full year. I think I finally shook my giant awake, and she is walking. Not roaring yet, but at least walking. I started the year feeling quite asleep, but now, I feel awake and very alive. I see hope, and that's always a welcome horizon.

Apologies for all the cliche references, but, really, what a difference a year makes!! On the local and international scene, I think the world got shook up quite a bit (in many cases, literally - 9 major earthquakes come to mind). I think the issues that stood out most for me were the ones that involved armed conflict or great natural disasters. I felt this year like I have never felt any other year in my life. I lived going from one emotion to another. I felt the news in a different way, and, as my mind gradually expands to a more full comprehension of the meaning of globalisation, I was aware that those people uttering incomprehensible words on my TV were not strangers or foreigners, as we are wont to call them, but neighbours. In some cases, literal next door neighbours!

When I say I felt this year, that's what I mean. It was a year to feel with people all across the globe and around the world. I immersed myself into international news. I plugged in to the documentaries, editorials and commentaries. My appetite for knowledge of world affairs was (and still is) insatiable, and this became a propellor for how much information I consumed and how I viewed my own personal world (if it can be called that).

I think this was a year for locating myself on the globe, and seeing the interconnectedness that runs through human beings across cultures and continents. It was time to see more than Jamaican. More than Caribbean ... I can honestly say I am acquiring an international perspective. After all, this is my world as much as it is anyone else's, and the occurrences therein affect me as much as they affect my brothers and sisters elsewhere. I ought to be concerned. I ought to be informed. I ought to be aware. And I think, to a great measure this year, I achieved that.

I have no intention of making this one of those long-winded posts that give away more insight than is savoury, or appropriate. I do, however, wish to say to one and all that this has been a truly transformational year, and I thank all the players involved. I've grown.

Tomorrow, I'll be a year older. Wish me a happy birthday, won't ya? Like I said, the days are winding down nicely ... :-) ;-) ;-p

A Pun Is A Play On Words

2010-11-02T17:15:00.000-07:00

One of my coworkers is pregnant.

There's a joker in our office who has something clever to say about everything.

When aforementioned pregnant lady walked by him, he remarked, "My, oh my, you look swell!"

=)

Jamaican Frustration 2

2010-10-14T08:46:00.000-07:00

The second incident was far more tragic than the first.

I was walking by a vendor, peddling her wares on a wooden cart. She sat with her baby - the child could not have been more than a year old - on the edge of the cart.

A man passed by on the opposite side of the street. The child looked at the man.

Suddenly, whollop! The mother gave the child one big slap upside his head that sent him toppling like a doll.

"Mi seh nuh look over deh!" She yelled loudly at the child. The child righted himself on his seat and sat in stunned silence, looking down at the ground and rubbing the side of his head. He never shed a tear.

IN contrast, my own eyes were brimming with sympathy. I wondered what kind of frustration would cause an upset mother to unleash such unbridled anger on her child ... and if the child did not cry because he had become accustomed to it.

Jamaican Frustration

2010-10-12T11:50:00.001-07:00

Like a pot full of steamy stew – way past ready – spitting bubbles, spewing heat that sears unsuspecting, naked flesh, there is a seething, boiling rage in our people ... a thinly-veiled, barely-buried hurt. They are fed up and frustrated.

This morning, I witnessed two vivid examples of the frustration that is rampant in Jamaicans.

The first happened while I was sitting in a bus on my way to work. A police officer pulled the bus over and asked to see the driver's documents. The driver's annoyance was instantaneous.

"Wha me do? " he loudly queried. "After me nuh do nutting. Boss, gimme a bly nuh man?"

The police officer calmly repeated his request to see the documents.

The driver begged. "Jus mek me drive outta di park nuh man?"

The policeman did not budge. He informed the driver that he had three children to take care of and would not be loosing his job because he gave one lousy, uncouth driver a 'bly'.

The bus driver cursed a string of profanities as he rummaged through an old bag for his papers. He gave them to the policeman, but refused to step out of the bus. The policeman refused to return the documents until he did.

The passengers entered the quarrel and began to curse – some at the driver for being so obstinate, some at the policeman for being part of the system of 'Babylon' – a system that had let them down all too many times. Some cursing at the ceiling and begged God to get them to work on time, others just cursed at no one in particular ... whatever the reason, everyone cursed.

Finally, the policeman turned the papers over to an inspector, who decided to give the driver the 'bly' he so desperately began to beg for.

After we drove out of the bus park, the cursing ceased - except for one bitter woman whose soul was full to overflowing with the atrocities of the "damn police", the injustices of "the system" ... she began to sympathise loudly with the bus driver, relating how her car was also in a state of disrepair because of the horrible conditions of the roads. She spoke at length about how difficult it was to even buy herself a pair of sneakers because of the high costs of insurance, electricity, water, rent, food, and, of course, the damned car repairs.

She was still unburdening herself - her complaints interspersed with the most colourful language - when I alighted from the bus, thinking to myself that it can't be healthy - or safe - for people to remain in such an extended state of frustration and tension. What happens when the strings of a woman's life have been drawn so tightly, pulled to such extremes, that she feels no remorse in unburdening her sorrows to a bus-full of strangers? When she can find no relief in her incessant cursing? What is this nightmare that our people live? What is the real definition for Jamaican frustration?

Quote For Today

2010-08-24T00:00:00.000-07:00

Today I choose.
Today I decide.
To walk away from apathy.
To embrace destiny.
- Ruthibelle

This is for Lucy, a blogfriend I have not seen or heard from in a while. Hope all's well. Hope you're good. Hope you're still living in your today.

Hello Yendiverse

2010-08-23T22:38:00.000-07:00

Yendi did it.
She placed second in the Miss Universe 2010 pageant.
She tried for Miss World.
It didn't happen.
She gave it a break.
She tried for Miss Universe.
People told her to quit.
A large portion of Jamaica told her to "give someone else a chance" ...
Someone said she was stupid to think that if she missed the first time, she'd get it right now ...
And the obstacles just kept coming.

But tonight, she did it.
Found her inner lioness.
Roared to an international crowd.
Made history.
Achieved a goal.
Planted Jamaica's name more solidly on the map.

Congratulations a million times over.
I believe in dreams.
I believe in fighting.
I believe in not giving up.

And so, tonight, I celebrate Yendiverse.
I celebrate a dream come true.

Don't Ever Give Up

2010-08-20T06:40:00.001-07:00

You know, it's funny. I woke up this morning feeling a little heavy. An outstanding, not-so-hopeful-looking issue weighed on my mind. I felt like maybe God was tired of helping me... I seem so (spiritually) needy these days. I sure was frustrated with me. Why wouldn't he be?

I logged on to Twitter. Just to tweet a word or two before zapping off to work. One of my friends posted this link. And it grabbed me. It held me, threw God's arms around me. I just want you to know that you can finish strong too. And God will be there for you - so don't ever give up!!

Don't Forget

2010-08-18T02:03:00.000-07:00

We should aspire to greatness without forgetting to recognise the greatness in the people around us.
- Ruthibelle

Honestly, sometimes I forget.

Sometimes I forget to see beyond the familiarity and everyday laughs. Beyond years and years of shared experience that has become common, everyday, happenstance and plain old unremarkable.

Sometimes, we get so used to people and places, we forget to value them. We fall into the trap of believing that the things with which we think we are familiar are all played out and too ordinary to have any outstanding value and meaning.

We wistfully gaze into another time, another place, another space, for examples of the greatness to which we should aspire. We place little to no value on what we see in the here and now as we make a mad scramble for the luxuries we think we'll enjoy in the then and there.

Today, don't forget that greatness surrounds you. Yes. Right there. In the monotonous humdrum of daily life.

Yes. Right there. In the unremarkable smile of a friend you see everyday.

Yes. Right there. In the community you grew up in, went to school in, got married in, had kids in, found a job in, constantly dream of escaping ...

And the same way you spend your time desiring a life in some other place, with some other people, in some other space, someone spends time desiring a life in your place, with your people, in your space ... Imagine that. Someone sees greatness where you are ...

We should aspire to greatness without forgetting to recognise the greatness in places and faces around us, and in us.
- Ruthibelle

Wordless Wednesdays: The Rainbow

2010-08-03T00:00:00.000-07:00

How pretty and precious and perfect.

Comedy Saves The Day

2010-08-02T14:23:00.000-07:00

A rumour was being circulated today that Bill Cosby was dead.

When I heard it, tears immediately sprang to my eyes.

But, thankfully, it wasn't true. Below is the very witty and remarkably humorous reply of that man whom I have come to respect and recognise as an icon of all things comedic:

"About 10 hours ago, an Internet hoax started that said Bill Cosby is dead. The announcement of me being dead may be a VIRUS.

And now ladies and gentlemen for my rebuttal:

As you well know, a dead person cannot rebuttal. Therefore, I am rebuttaling to tell you that when I heard the news I immediately began rebuttaling and went into denial. My wife has just informed me that there is no such word as rebuttaling, she says the word is rebutting. But I don't care, because I'm alive!

Thank you.

PS. That's another thing dead people don't say."

I read it with a big smile on my face.

Blog-A-Day Challenge Review

2010-08-01T00:00:00.000-07:00

After blogging (more or less) faithfully for the past month, I have discovered that:

1. I like reflection. Yes, there are splashes of humour, but mostly, I think deeply, heavily. About greatness, life, dreams and inspiration.

2. It was difficult to create long posts each day. I resorted to brevity, which, at first, was lazy. Then my posts developed depth and meaning. I said in a few sentences only those things that were most essential. The posts became shorter, more substantial.

3. I can do a post every day. It is possible. I have proven it.

4. This blog is, as I am, still becoming ...

PS Happy emancipation day to Jamaicans everywhere.
Let's keep the black, green, gold flying high.
Hardships there are (black),
But the people are resilient (green)
And the sun still shines (gold).
Jamaica land we love!

Challange Day 31: Oui!!

2010-07-31T00:00:00.000-07:00

My friend is convinced that Jamaicans have a problem with French.

For example, one day she took a taxi.

After the taximan asked her if she had arrived at her stop, she said, "oui."

He nodded and stopped.

As she alighted from the car, she asked, "you understand what 'oui' means then?"

He nodded, smiled, and said, "yes, we - you and me."

My friend was sorely disappointed.

Challenge Day 30: Complimenpoetry 2

2010-07-30T00:00:00.000-07:00

I'm surrounded by brilliance, I tell you.
This latest blush/laughter-evoking compliment
from one of my friends.
He deserves a big hug for this!!

There is only one Ruthie! Greetings pure soul child love energy non-ceasing releasing the healing of true love feeling revealing the layers of prayers from the heart's temple! You that true that, Super Ruthibelle!

ROFL
I don't even know where to start with this one.
It's just, well, exceptional!!
I'm going to print this and frame it!

Listen, you simply CANNOT have better friends than mine!
They're the BEST!
I luv 'em!! This truly made my day.

Have an AWESOME day everyone!

Challenge Day 29: Role Model

2010-07-29T09:43:00.001-07:00

Who is your adult role model and why?

My parents readily come to mind. They may not have done anything that is considered outstanding by the world's standards, but they live their lives in silent integrity everyday, and make do with what they have. They create joy and beauty out of a situation that is often less than desirable.

In fact, to me, the people who haven't got the spotlight on them, but who choose to live their seemingly small and unrecognised lives in honesty and truth, who face the ordinary hardships of regular life and still come out triumphant at the end of each day, are those from whom I draw inspiration. They are the real heroes. They never get handouts or a hand up. But they work hard and do their best anyway, not because anyone is watching, but because they CHOOSE to.

THAT'S a real role model.

Challenge Day 28: Complimenpoetry

2010-07-28T08:09:00.000-07:00

One of my friends told me this,
and I just wanted to kiss her!!
Awesome girl she is!

You're like the full moon before the sun sets
(daring and beautiful and bold!)

Now, if that's not complimenpoetry, I don't know what is!
Here's to great friends and greater friendships!

Challenge Day 27: Mr. Torres

2010-07-27T09:57:00.000-07:00

Mr. Miguel Romero Torres. Obviously Cuban. The name alone tells. He taught me Physics for two years - two glorious years of learning in high school.

He was strategic, very structured. Did everything step by step. Whatever we were doing was always crystal clear. If you've ever read one of those text books on how to effectively teach, you could say that was Mr. Torres, summed up. We always knew what we were studying, where in the syllabus we were, and what we would go on to next. He had an uncanny way of keeping you on your toes so that you stayed aware of the entire year's worth of lessons. Revising for his tests was easy, because each class was a new lesson, and revision!

And he was kind.

Sometimes kindness is sometimes not felt in a touch or heard in a word, but seen in the eyes, in the affectionate tilt of the head, in the patient explanation of a hard-to-grasp concept, in the silent encouragement to always do better next time.

There was no doubt that, though he never said it, Mr Torres loved his students. And wanted us all to be great.

A good teacher is not hard to find. There are many good teachers out there. But the great ones - they are rare. Like comets among the stars.

Challenge Day 26: I am what I am

2010-07-26T15:11:00.000-07:00

I am not what I am
Because I am not
What I should be
Or could be.

I remember when I was much younger, I wrote a poem about myself, trying to describe where I thought I was, or, more specifically, WHO I thought I was. And what I saw in myself didn't quite add up with who I thought I ought to be. There was a great divide.

So, I wrote a poem. Quoted above is one stanza.

Challenge Day 25: Now

2010-07-25T09:18:00.000-07:00

Death is nothing, but to live defeated and inglorious is to die daily. - Napoleon Bonoparte

Quotes like that always hit me. Somewhere in the pit of my stomach. And they always leave room for pause and slow (sometimes painful) deliberation.

To live defeated and inglorious is to die daily. Dead. Every day. Walking around. Thinking you're alive. But you're dead. Such a tragedy.

I can't afford it. It's too expensive. I pray and try, really hard, every day, to make sure that I LIVE!! Full, whole, free --- life is too valuable. I just can't waste it!

All I have is NOW. All I have is now ...

Challenge Day 24: A word from Pastor Brian

2010-07-24T09:15:00.000-07:00

Hillsong's Brian Houston's teaching last year on TIMING has some very salient points.

Good timing requires:
1. Desire
2. Decisions
3. Sacrifice
4. Positioning
5. Patience

It's that last one I'm working on.

Challenge Day 23

2010-07-23T09:13:00.000-07:00

If practice makes perfect, I have for too long practised imperfection. May that change today!
-Ruthibelle