When Jamaica Is My Living Room: Ubuntu, Ujamaa, Utopia

A Soular Youniverse... A world of I and I, where each and everyone has the well being of You and I at heart! A place where everything is a labour of love and a work of heart. Yeah... that is my dream for creation. For the global village... a day when Jamaica is my living room!

Come bredrin and sistren and trod in the realm of imagination where we walk through the community gate and into the heart of this bustling utopia, I don't know if you are but I'm struck by the warmth and sense of togetherness that permeates the air. People are gathered in small groups, chatting, laughing, and sharing stories, while others relax on benches, sipping tea or coffee and reading books or writing poetry.

The main public space is a vibrant hub of activity, with colorful murals adorning the walls and a stage where musicians, poets, and artists perform regularly. Tonight, a group of young poets are reciting their work, their words echoing across the square and drawing a crowd of eager listeners.

As we make our way deeper into the community, we pass by a large communal garden where people are tending to the plants and harvesting fresh vegetables for dinner. The scent of fragrant herbs and flowers fills the air, and I can hear the sounds of children playing and laughing in the nearby park, can you?

As the sun begins to set, the community comes alive with the glow of soft lighting and the sound of music wafting through the air. We make my way to the communal living room, where people are gathered around cozy fires, chatting and sharing their thoughts on everything from philosophy to the latest scientific discoveries.

Dinner is a communal affair, with everyone pitching in to prepare a delicious meal made from fresh, locally-sourced ingredients. We dine together at a long table, enjoying the flavors of the season and the warmth of each other's company.

As the evening wears on, people begin to retire to their individual homes, each one a unique and personalized space filled with art, poetry, and cherished mementos. I settle into my cozy earth-ship home, feeling grateful for the sense of community and connection that surrounds me, and for the sense of purpose and meaning that comes from working together to create a better world for all.

 

  

In the early morning, before the sun rises, many in the community gather for a group yoga or Tae Kwan Do session in the nearby park. Led by elders who have practiced these traditions for decades, the sessions are an opportunity to connect with the body, the breath, and the earth, and to cultivate a sense of balance and well-being.

Throughout the day, the community prioritizes health and well-being, with a focus on locally-sourced and organic foods, holistic healing practices, and regular exercise. The elders play an important role in passing down their knowledge of natural medicine, meditation, and other healing arts to the younger generations, ensuring that these traditions continue to thrive and evolve in this techno-organic age.

How does such a place sound? Come on I know I am not completely naive or full of shit and know somewhere on the walk you saw the potential and possibility of such a reality.

As Bob Marley once sang, "Don't worry about a thing, 'cause every little thing gonna be all right." In my dream world, Jamaica is my living room - a communal family where everyone is treated equally, and where money is outdated. Instead, we share the resources of our planet, working together to make the world a better place for all.

You may say that I'm a dreamer, but idealism can have a profound impact on the world. I envision a world where we are all part of one big community - a Star Trek-like humanity where people are given jobs and roles based on merit, and where we all live in harmony with each other and with nature.

In my dream world, we are all outdoor Bedouin academics and shamans, constantly exploring the mysteries of the universe and sharing our findings with each other. We pour our spirit into challenging and exploring the unknown and great beyond, pushing the boundaries of what we know and what we can achieve.

But this isn't just a dream - it's a future that is within our grasp. By embracing Ubuntu, Ujamaa, Open Source, Permaculture, EarthShips, and earthen homes, we can create a new brand of humanism that is informed by the unheard ethos of indigenous peoples, of Rastafari, of Aboriginals, and of Africans.

We can become techno-organic, not through trans-humanism, but by fusing technology and spirituality in a way that celebrates and honors our interconnections with each other and with the natural world. We can examine and re-examine our cultural and indigenous traditions for their worth, and create a new society that is harmonious, just, and sustainable.

In my dream world, we are all passengers on a spaceship hurtling through space. We understand that every living creature on Earth is our brother or sister, and we treat each other with the love, respect, and kindness that we all deserve. We are all explorers, adventurers, and dreamers, and together, we can make the world a better place for ourselves and for future generations.

As John Lennon once said, "You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one." Let's embrace our idealism and work together to create a world that is truly worthy of our dreams. Let's make Jamaica our living room, and let's make the world a better place for all.

Coming of Age: A Jamaican Perspective

"It takes a village to raise a child"
African Proverb

 
How'd you make it through puberty, was it like Wonder Years for you? To me or for me rather, puberty and coming of age for me began the summer before high school. In Jamaica, coming of age refers to the transition from childhood to adulthood and is marked by a number of cultural and social milestones. These may include obtaining a driver's license, completing education, getting a job, and becoming financially independent. For many young people in Jamaica, coming of age also involves participating in cultural and religious rites of passage, such as Rastafarian groundation or a Kumbaya ceremony. These ceremonies often involve the guidance of elders and the community and are meant to provide young people with the knowledge and skills they need to navigate adulthood.

On this isle, family and community are central to the coming of age process. It is common for young people to be surrounded by a network of supportive adults who offer guidance and mentorship as they navigate this transition. Well at least that's the way it used to be years ago, "when the village raised a child." It was a time and age of apprenticeships, when youth would learn shoe-making, carpentry, masonry, tiling or upholstery from members of the community. When one was subject to the watchful eye of everyone in a community and if say for instance a child hid away far from home and smoked a cigarette, he could be sure before he reached home the grapevine told his parents before he arrived. And that was an age before cellphones or what my Grandma insisted on calling 'the circular phone".

This time of life can be marked by angst and some amount of suffering. Coming of age in JamRock for many, can also be marked by challenges, such as poverty, lack of access to education and job opportunities, and social and political issues. Despite these challenges, many young people in Jamaica are able to overcome them and go on to lead successful and fulfilling lives. In fact at one part of life I believed that overcoming great tragedy made coming of age more meaningful. Essentially I valued that Disney and Marvel orphan who become a hero rather than that Archie comics girl crisis or Napoleon Dynamite.

As I look back on my coming of age, I am struck by the overwhelming sense of anxiety and uncertainty that pervaded my teenage years. This was a time when life choices loomed large and dictated the person I would eventually become. In Jamaica, the choices I faced were especially weighty, as they encompassed issues such as gun violence, gang involvement, peer pressure and their accompanying dangers. These choices tested my resolve and shaped the values that would guide me in adulthood.

At the same time, my coming of age was marked by questions of how to navigate sexuality and desire, questions that tested my sense of self and challenged my understanding of the world. I was forced to confront my own lusts and desires and make choices that would determine the course of my life; things like is it right to have one woman or many women, how do yo treat women, do you lie to get women. And, of course, there were questions of money and politics, with the latter proving especially complicated in a country marked by deep social and economic inequalities. I remember once speaking in a dark corner late one night when I was probably in 10th grade and when that sexual tension built up and I stalled, she asked what was the matter? When I told her I had a girl she scornfully laughed and scoffed, "So yuh a one burner?" I share this tale with great chagrin, as my ego was wounded. There are so many tales like this I could tell you and I suspect I will have to save that for a post and tale I will call, "My Cuming of Age: To All the Women I Loved Before"

In many ways, my coming of age was a time of constant questioning, of searching for answers and trying to make sense of a world that was often confusing and uncertain. But it was also a time of growth, of forging my own identity and charting a path forward in life. And as I look back on it now, I am filled with a sense of pride at the choices I made, and a deep appreciation for the person I have become.

As a child of the 1980s, I was shaped by a kaleidoscope of media that informed my coming of age. Through books, comic books, cartoons, movies and more, I navigated the complexities of growing up, exploring the worlds of fiction and fantasy as I sought to understand my place in the world. At one point, I had aspirations of becoming Jamaica's first Walt Disney, with the goal of igniting the imaginations of other children with my own brand of animation.

However, as I reached high school, my aspirations shifted from animation to comic books. The writings of David Michelinie and Tom Defalco, and the art of Ron Frenz, Mark Bagley, and Erik Larsen had reeled me into the world of Marvel Comics. I had been introduced to Spider-man through his Amazing Friends on TV, but it wasn't until I jumped into the Amazing Spider-man during the Carnage origin 3-parter that I came to know the web-slinger in a deeper way. From that moment on, I was hooked, following Peter Parker's adventures with a passion. Peter Parker and Wally West's Flash became vehicles for my own venting and examining my own coming of age experience. Essentially I used the lessons of boys becoming heroes as a metaphor for my own journey. The line in the Spider-Man comic strip that said "When Peter is accidentally bitten by a radioactive spider, he discovers that he has superhuman, web-slinging powers and learned that with great power comes great responsibility, and now fights crime and tries to maintain some semblance of a normal life", yeah that line struck me and rung true.  X-Men and mutant powers that manifested in puberty, Wally West learning to graduate from Kid Flash to big Flash... those stories help me cross the Rubicon.

The love of comics and the desire to bring my own stories to life never left me, and I knew that I wanted to be a writer and artist in the comic book industry. I wanted to craft stories that would captivate and inspire others in the same way that I had been inspired by the comics of my youth. 

Coming of age content isn't just limited to cartoons or comics but is rife in literature. The type of lit that deals with the theme of young people transitioning from childhood to adulthood. This type of literature even has a fancy name "Bildungsroman" and as you probably realize it often focuses on the challenges and experiences that young people face as they navigate this transition and explore their identity, values, and place in the world. Reading coming of age literature can be particularly helpful for youth as it can provide them with relatable characters and situations that they can draw from as they navigate their own coming of age journey. It can also provide a sense of connection and understanding as young people see their own experiences reflected in the stories they read. There is a reason they give us Sprat Morrison and Escape to Last Man's Peak in 7th grade, then Shane, The Chrysalids, Young Warrior and Three Finger Jack's Treasure, The Pearl, Green Days by the River. A Year in San Fernando and A Brighter Sun. Outside of school reading I found Stephen King's Hearts in Atlantis as a great refrain.

In addition, coming of age literature can help youth to develop critical thinking skills as they consider the themes and messages of the stories and how they relate to their own lives. It can also expose them to new ideas and perspectives and help them to explore their own values and beliefs.

My coming of age was marked not only by media and the shaping of my imagination, but also by music and a rich musical journey. Music was a constant presence in my life, a soundtrack to the ups and downs of growing up. It provided solace and comfort in times of uncertainty and was a source of inspiration and hope. As I discovered different genres and artists, my musical tastes expanded, and I developed a deep appreciation for the power of music to evoke emotions and tell stories. I found myself drawn to the melodies and lyrics of singer-songwriters, the raw energy of rock and roll, the acoustic sounds of folk rock, and the alternative vibes of the 60s, 70s, 80s, and 90s.

My favorites artists included Bob Dylan, Bob Marley, Simon and Garfunkel, Goo Goo Dolls, Lenny Kravitz, Barrington Levy, Bounty Killer, Damian Marley, Enya, Cat Stevens, Outkast, and the Fugees. These musicians became a part of my musical DNA, influencing my tastes and shaping my journey. Beres Hammond's Putting Up Resistance made me acutely aware of the social circumstance of the working man and gave me ample preparation for adulting and it's rigors/ Bob Dylan's Tangled Up in Blue taught me the vagaries that life's journey would bring and the rich textures of love varying women bring. Simon and Garfunkel's The Boxer prepared me to fail or flail on my way to maturity.

I also began to see music as a form of expression and a means of connecting with others. Whether I was singing along to my favorite songs, trying to learn to play the guitar with friends, experimenting with AtoMix, Virtual DJ and Fruity Loops or discovering new music with others, music was a source of community and a way to connect with the world around me.

This musical journey became an integral part of my coming of age, shaping my tastes and influencing the person I would become. And even now, as I look back on my life, music remains a central part of who I am, a reminder of the power of sound and the role it has played in my journey.

So maybe you can understand how it was I that developed my sense of purpose that I set out on my path, determined to make my mark in the world. And as I look back on it now, I am proud of the journey I took and the person I have become. For though my life has taken many twists and turns, my love for comics and my desire to inspire others have remained constant, a shining beacon that guides me forward even to this day.

In conclusion, coming of age is a transformative experience that shapes the person we become. In Jamaica, it involves a rich tapestry of cultural and social milestones, as well as challenges that must be overcome. The support of family and community is integral to the coming of age process, and young people must make choices that will determine their path in life. Coming of age literature can play a crucial role in this process by providing young people with relatable characters, new ideas, and a sense of connection. It is a time of constant questioning, growth, and pride as one shapes their own identity and charts their path forward in life. Our coming of age experiences shape who we are, and it is a journey that is unique to each individual.

Being a Graphic Designer in Western Jamaica

When I was in grade 6 at Mt. Alvernia Prep., the class was paired with foreign students for pen-pals, to practice letter writing and foster cross cultural experience. I went home got my mother's help and wrote a nice introductory letter. Now, beyond my experience in the 1980's tourist industry and slights at duty free in-bond shops, I didn't have an experience with racism that had left an indelible mark till receiving my response letter from my pen-pal. The letter to my horror was riddled with condescending questions like do you have classes under trees and do you wear grass skirts and such. Coming from a Pan African Christian home this was an affront of the highest order. From then on I have come to realize that when the world thinks about Jamaica the first thing that comes to the collective thoughts of people from the western hemisphere are the pivotal 1960’s rural poverty images, of zinc fences, shanty towns, marijuana smoking men and matted hair. Some may be aware of the allure of sun, sand and sex. Reggae and Bob Marley did little to diminish the sexual mystique. Afterwards it also became known as the country which for one reason or the other was the perennial exporter of various types of drugs. Was this a failure in our messaging our visual communique?

 This clash of cultures and divergent realities reflect the duality of perception. I am not saying we aren’t steeped in a variety of problems, far from it. Hence, working in the developing world can carry unique problems and circumstances not perceived by graphic designers and artists in the developed nations. Hence I hope this article elucidates my progress and journey as a designer growing and working in the wonderful conundrum and cultural melting pot that is Jamaica and the Caribbean

Visual communication is an inextricable part of human history. It has existed as long as there has been the need to make marks or leave traces, to communicate through signs and symbols rather than the spoken word. In the contemporary world the activity of organizing signs and symbols, or words and images, for public exchange is recognized as graphic design - a specialist area of the broader field of design. Just as there have been design movements and aesthetics born all over the world, Jamaica and her people too have formed it's own unique systems of visual hierarchy, layout and style. Our unique history, environment and challenges have given rise to our own aesthetic and cues for communication.

 

 

Today graphic design in Jamaica embraces printed material from the smallest ephemeral item - a stamp, label or ticket - to publication design in the form of the interiors and exteriors of books and magazines. It also includes a robust and very local poster and advertising design culture, as well as trademarks, logos and symbols. Then there are the more convention yet extensive systems of information design - signage in the built environment, exhibitions and corporate identities for companies, all often developed in close association with architectural practices that are informed by our Victorian and Spanish past yet still being influence by Deco and a modern minimalism.

Over the last decade I've watched the practice of graphic design as it has undergone momentous change as pixels have become a handy substitute for print and software has lessened the profession's reliance on its traditional tools of pen and paper. In no other discipline of design has computer technology had Reich a transforming impact. Throughout our daily lives we are surrounded and peppered by graphic messages. Indeed they have become so much a part of the fabric of every-day modern life - from break-fast cereal packaging and advertising 3 billboards to logos on clothes and television company identities - that often we register their codes only on a subconscious level.

 

Working in Western Jamaica is always challenging as it is an environment, where the push for excellence is always marred and pegged down by an ever changing set of economic obstacles, and technical variables though if you ask me I believe that ultimately these challenges will help make you a better designer. Anyhow my journey started way back in 2001 when I took a graphic design course in Kingston, where I was tutored by one Mr. Marcel Robinson, who gave me my introduction to Corel Draw (I still remember that hot air balloon logo with fondness) and the theories of design. That was a time when the concept of computer was still one of a luxury item in Jamaica, but my exposure to them though came earlier in the 80's but was confined to a Commodore 64 that I had to write the Basic code for PacMan to play it. After that my next set of exposure would be to some access in my high school and prep school computer laboratories and the only use that we had for them was to play ancient PC Games, some of them in DOS. I remember being smitten with the early aerial view incarnations of Grand Theft Auto, Minesweeper, Taipei and Solitaire. Midway during high school my siblings and I got a computer at home. In the back of my mind I always had intentions of doing designs especially after seeing kids in my high school library using cut outs and a photocopier to make a flyer or poster, that incident cemented for me the union of art and technology.

 
As my progress in illustrating on a Pentium III Windows® machine went forward smoothly, I got introduced to a variety of software such as Blender, Gimp, Inkscape, and more. My enterprising nature brought me to Macs and Linux desktops. I had fallen in love with the idea of transforming pictures and mashing colors together, and the thrill of creativity. I had some idea of the basic tenets of graphic design and color theory but no formal training in these notions, so eventually I dove into Graphic Design books that I could pick up at our local bookstore franchise Sangster's or at Computer stores. After working on odd gigs at the University of the West Indies, Mona while doing a philosophy degree, I got introduced to Macromedia Freehand and Flash for vector drawing and animation. This realm of digital creation was my major foray into the vast world of design which wouldn’t have been possible without the ‘pirated’ copies of these high end software (I have shifted my software use to free and opensource) Although I will be forever grateful for the creators of these software, there really wasn’t any way that I could honor their work by buying their product. They were too expensive for a starving artist in Jamaica's second city.

Another pivotal moment in my life as a graphic designer came in the period of 2004 to 2006. In these three years I did two things that shaped my design inclinations, the first I got to work in a lot of jobs as a freelance designer. The second, after hanging with Computer Science crowd I made the hard leap into open source. The impact of these actions resulted in my gaining direct touch with the business side of being a designer and the second introduced me to the interesting world of coding, which would lend itself to me learning HTML, CSS, and JavaScript.



Being a freelance designer at the time circa 2004 was a tough time because in those days Jamaican businesses didn’t really rate the importance of branding themselves through graphic design, thus they attached no importance to that side of their advertising strategy. Don't get me wrong everyone wants a logo or a business card but they don't want to pay for it. I can tell you horror stories of hunting down clients who received work and tried to get away without paying. In Jamaica, photographers and videographers tend to be able to command financial respect more and people are more willing to pay. This environmental pressure has led to designers at the time becoming a jack of all trade. We dabbled in everything from flash animation to video and sound editing. Specializing in one discipline was seen as a death warrant because the desires of our employers, clients and the market were fleeting and one had to be able to pivot with the ever changing needs of the moment. Consequently instead of specializing and learning more about the various disciplines found in graphic design, this trend made the majority of the designers, somewhat lesser artists and some lost focus on the importance of the art itself, and by necessity it made designers in western Jamaica a kind of digital Anansi and hustler, where as the developed world romanticized this as the life a digital nomad.

Becoming a digital Anansi in this worldwide web prompted me to dig deeper into codes and coding, hard ware and A+ type repairs. It was an interesting experience as it overlapped with my desire to create stuff from the base up, using computers, to understand how things worked under the hood, the magic of ones and zeroes. Concurrently I was pulled deeper into web design since it encompassed the two things that I love most, the internet and design. In these formative years, I also learned the benefits of research as a method to help yield the best possible tools and techniques to produce interesting things. These years refined me from a hustler into a consummate artist, who was more concerned about creating a graphic aesthetic that communicated a new Caribbean message and Afrofuturism. Making money was important but I was yearning for something more as I lived that ‘starving artist’ cliche. This period was where I became somewhat disillusioned with graphic design.

The majority of my clients were not looking for the ‘aesthetic’ strength of their products, a lot of them were posters and party flyers for people who didn't pay well and objected if I put black girls on their party flyers. A lot of the rest just wanted something made quickly (in retrospect, I realize it was my inexperience as a designer which through lack of a deep formal education in the field and the lack of proper exposure led me to compromise my creative integrity). Even though I did land some big work, doing T-shirts for Reggae Sumfest, Trelawny Swamp Safari among others, my desire to do graphic designed still waned, and I turned my face towards web design and coding, by that time had already been through Yahoo's geocities and was blogging on this platform. So web design was a natural progression.

To my software knowledge I added the use of Adobe's Photoshop, Indesign and Illustrator, Corel PhotoPaint, and Scribus. I also graduated from Frontpage to Dreamweaver. Try as I may that market was the domain of Kingston techies who won the lucrative business contracts and clients like NGOs. Around 2008 after layout work for Newspapers, writing columns for the Western Mirror, dabbling in editorial cartoons, I somehow wound up at VistaPrint doing copywriting. Then around 2010 — 2012 and the next creative wave to hit Jamaica was multimedia and motion graphics. I had dabbled in Macromedia Director and Flash which gave me some experience, my adventures brought me to working with Montegonian artists to storyboard music videos and do some photography which I loved. 

This is an energetic time for Jamaican graphic design, in terms of the web, illustration and  graphic videos like text videos. Motion is where graphics are going and garner premium pay. The field is becoming more mainstream, and the talents out there were getting out and presenting their portfolios for the world to see. Though at the same time we are in an age where apps and templates are a dime a dozen offering consumers prettier graphic options and standards, at the same time creating a generic aesthetic in design which still leaves room for the human element in finding meaningful new expressions in design.

Lessons Learnt from the Princess who wanted a Princess Yo-yo!

This is a post dedicated to my daughter and some of the things she has taught me as well as allowed me to remember and rediscover. For a few years before her birth I was in a state of some kind of depression and doldrums, a funk as it were, overwhelmed with failures. The failure of having not produced any literary master piece as yet, not getting any where with poetry, no where with art, no comic book produced, no documentary, no cartoon, no animation, no car, no major tech infusion, hobbling on a pitch patch income, fumbling from PC to PC and laptop to laptop. Yeah there may have been some successes... as small as they seemed in my eye, and probably in the grand picture of Jamaican super start success hypes. Yeah I was the first Jamaican Blogger, and probably the first or longest running Jamaican blogger, but what is the value and who cares?

Sure The Montegonian did a lovely stint in the Western Mirror which I believe changed the dynamic of Column writing in Western Jamaica and imbued western Journalism with more confidence and vigor. Sure I would hear my ideas in articles popping up in Mobay's Chamber of Commerce on the mouths of other people with no credit to me, which is not a problem to me, as long as it makes this city better. Yeah but in the age of so many hot writers erupting everyday from Jamaica on the world stage, what is it worth when the world stage and so many platform seem closed to me and the less financially endowed. Sure I have been championing and been an early pioneer using Linux and Open Source in Montego Bay and Western Jamaica on PC's, Laptops and Desktops, but what is that worth in a country that worships at the alter of Microsoft and Windows, yet not knowing Linux holds up their tech world on Android phones and slavishly carrying the tech world on servers everywhere. What is it worth when you champion your community and any social cause worth the activism, only to be neglected by NGO's because we aren't PR material or the poster child for the worst community or we just don't have enough dead bodies on our streets, to have media focus on Kingston and the colourful personalities that catch their eye and fancy, and this happens no matter how conscious the media agency seems or pretends to be. What is it worth to be another unsung hero... to fight the black struggles in the best ways you know how and to have so little verbal reward or any kind of accolade and close to no meal ticket. What was it worth to be vanguard and forerunner, when every forerunner only holds the lead to be in a lonely place and relegated to pariah.

What was I to do... worn thin and wounded in spirit?

Enter my Daughter... life in abundance, come to reinvigorate me and teach me new lessons on life and to remember the lessons and ideas I forgot long ago.

Lesson 1. Simple things can keep us happy: The Princess Yo-Yo 101

~Now this lesson I learned last December. I am not a Christmas believer nor do I believe a Christ was born on Dec 25. However Nativity, Christmas Carols, Trade Winds those tings make me redolent, and is a season I cherished as a child for the bells, the x-mas plays, cool chilly breezes, the yards smelling of paint, fresh cut lawns, pretty silver moons, astronomy with my father under clear skies, being filled with the sense that the world was slowing down for reasons such as love, family and in-gatherings of family and extensions of family. A season that as child wished would never end. So it is that spirit I try to hang onto and recapture for my daughter. A feeling and emotion about the season, not necessarily connected to trees, or lights, or presents, but connected with the presence of special people. So when she became swept up with the season last year and she requested a present, Super Daddy has to answer the call. Now, for a few days I twisted my brain to find a nice present and thought it maybe it'd be something costly. Would it be a tablet, a Nabi, a electronic gadget of some sort, surely not clothes... After not thinking of anything, I asked her what she wanted. "A Princess Yo-Yo!" 

WHAT! A princess yo-yo... hmmm it seemed a unique and odd request and one that maybe would stump me. For this was a request at the crux of roads... Yo-yoes are for boys, I hadn't imagined that the 21st century girl could be a Tom Boy Princess... another strange anomaly. HMMMMM HMMMM HMMMM... so specialized, it sounds like that may stretch my imagination, where in Mobay was I gonna find a princess yo-yo... if one even existed. And how much would this cost now... please let it not be over $2000, as mi just nuh have it, fi maths more than that. HMmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm I was confounded. Being the presumption ass, I assumed that such wonders as a possibly expensive and specialized toy like a princess yo-yo had to be located at Fontana or MegaMart or some such location... of I went... wasting gas to traverse from Paradise to Mobay's likkle farrin... out by Fairview! Only to not find the prized princess yo-yo there. After giving the issue some more brain power... I came up with Sangster's Book Store... so off to Harbour Street to park again and foot it to Sangster's. After scouring Sangster's seeing an varied assortment of $1000 odd Yo-yoes, I was heartened somewhat, but I hadn't found the Princess Yo-yo yet. Fine fine... lemme walk the town in one last hope to see what's up, only to realize hmmmm Henderson's in renovating... lemme check it out... as I enter it immediately greets me, a $435.00 pink Princess Yo-yo! My word... that's it $435.00 bet she just uses it once and discards it... I've seen kids do it a thousand times right.

3 Months later in March I was still de-tangling yo-yo chords and explaining an assortment of tricks. Hence I had learned that she really did ask for what she wanted, was happy when she got it, and really tried to learn to use it and understand it. Hmmm much more than I had given her credit for. So my daughter reminds me of the Sizzla song now... "Simplicity we use to survive, many find it difficult cause them ignorant and dumb." The hold incident too reminded me of a time when I was young, it was a Sunday, and as my mother and grand mother sat reading the papers, I didn't realize my granny had stopped reading the newspaper and was watching me swing on the grill at the door, and when I realized she was, she looked at me and said, "A see seh yuh come fi mek yuh owna sun shine." It was a while before i understood what she meant, but Kyrha's made me re-learn that idea.

Lesson 2. Everyone has their own mind: On White Folk and Other Philosophy- death, afterlife god mother nature

Now when it comes to life and learning as it pertains to youth, my belief is that, I ought not hold much back, and if I do, it is only in the interest of keeping things simple. I won't lie or make up fairy tales. Lies, myth and fairy tales I believe hinder a child's development, and denies them the chance to intuit deeper levels of knowledge and understanding. Fairy tales hinder humanity's collective gainful comprehension of the universe.

However explaining gravity, why we fall, robots, machines, sleep, imagination, digestion, the eye, even sex and how she came here, seems so so so much simpler when one contends with explaining GOD, JESUS, HEAVEN, MOTHER NATURE, AFTER LIFE, SLAVERY AND RACISM among other metaphysical and social mysteries.

Most amazing of all though is that this little  year old processes my thoughts and what I tell her and she doesn't just imbibe it and says it is so because Daddy's says so... she challenges ideas in her mind. I'll soon explain.

My doctrines on life are a scientific approach to questions, in social spiritual matters in my Ras Tafari I employ Marcus Garveys's fiery Afrocentrism and pan-africanism tempered by Haile Selassie's cerebral modus operandi and diplomacy. So when I have to touch on touchy issues of Race and slavery I as advised by listening to Martin Luther King Jr's treatise on his little daughter and fun town, which I listen to often via Youtube.

So when Africa comes up and how or why we are Africans and how we came to be in Jamaica, I didn't shy away from explaining the horror of slavery and the evils wrought on us by white Europeans. As MLK Jr suggested I tried not to be bitter. I think I may have been a little. Anyway... it so happens one day white Christian folk visit her school, when I pick her up, she immediately comes to me and says guess what Daddy... You know I think you are wrong about white people... not all white people are bad... I met some good ones at school today... I couldn't contain the laughter... this child retained the race conversations and had borne it in mind and challenged my information with her experiences... I was truly impressed. There is no brain washing this one. Anyway... after she repeats her point and says "is true enuh Daddy, is true!" I say to her don't worry we'll discuss this again when you are older, and hopefully then you'll see my point more clearly.

Lesson 3. What Father is and means: Pickney Proverbs & Prov 15 vs 5

So on becoming a father I have had to examine my experiences being fathered, what I liked, what I want to improve upon from my father. But I have also had to examine the role I have played to people I have semi- or part-time fathered. If mentoring is important, the power of the role... what power has been invested in father.

More difficult to examine has been how Jamaica deals with father and how harshly we are critiqued and derided by society, even as our stats improve and some stats are coming in to indicate women have to some extent aided in undermining Jamaican Masculinity... the Jacket phenomenon, the bleaching, the long hair and expenses, the gimmi mentality, relentless challenge to male authority, the belief in the better-ness of white notions and displays and examples of masculinity.

I've also had to open up to my daughters notions of father, dada, papa... the fixer of things, the knower of things, her companion encyclopedia and philosopher, the backdrop against which she bounces ideas and deciphers reality. The daughter who believes father is there for super/supra natural protections. To examine what this young femininity means to man, what really is the role of man, what do I teacher her of masculinity, what do I do with her Tom Boyism... her Princessism... how do I prepare for the future with a truly helpful vision that equips her for all that may come, how do I also prepare her for launch as my first emissary and arrow shot and cast into the future, my messenger and ambassador to the future? How? How do I combine organic ideology, african spirituality, technology, post modern philosophy, ecological livity, humanism and not this transhuman future of black widows, Iron men and people with electric hearts and dreams of electric sheep, visions and ultrons??? How do I sow Marcus Garvey into everyday existence and merge the ethics of Haile Selassie?

Most of all I have had to examine everyone who has played some sort of mentor or fatherly role... my Father, grand Father, older friends, elders, sages and all... I have had to even consider if I am comfortable with God being a father... should it maybe not be better that it be ISIS and not some nondescript holy ghost, and what social ethos would only give us a God father, and no mother or reduce her to a ghost... and find some way to sire sons (the sons of god came down and took of themselves wives of the daughters of men) without women, to make man give birth to the first woman!

In many ways my daughter more than anyone has taught me about Father, through the gift of fatherhood.

Lesson 4. Live!

I don't know another soul that gives meaning to the words Verve and Vivacious and Effervescent!

From the moment I met this girl in a tummy kicking, I couldn't have met her before that, I am not privy to the woman's early knowing that her body is inhabited and her womb is occupied. Yep! I met her with a kick and the information that she constantly moved to the noise of children and voices on the outside world! And as I sat by the womb waiting night by night... I had a sense of knowing that this was someone full of spunk...

It would come as no surprise then that some of her favourite songs are "This Girl is on Fire" and  Katy Perry's "Roar"... She ravages through cartoons and her favourites change often... there was the Avatar "Ang" phase, then Korra... the Doc McStuffins, Cat in the Hat, Peppa Pig, My Little Pony, Strawberry Shortcake, Jake and the Neverland Pirates, now much to my chagrin it's Monster High and Sabrina the Teenage Witch!

But that I think is a crucial lesson she has taught me... sometimes I spend too much time being cerebral and thinking about things and there consequences rather than just doing... and that is her thing... impulsive impetus... just do it.. live, with a sense of absolute fearlessness at that. So if she can do it... why can't I! She also brought home this Garvey quote..

Fear is a state of nervousness fit for children and not men. When man fears a creature like himself he offends God, in whose image and likeness he is created. Man being created equal fears not man but God. To fear is to lose control of one's nerves; one's will, to flutter, like a dying fowl, losing consciousness, yet alive.
(Marcus Garvey)

Imagine a 5 year old teaching I N I bout fearlessness!

Lesson 5. Serendipity Sanguinity and Telepathic Connection

When I was a little boy, sitting int back of cars in the rain, I'd look at the wipers and imagine they were two children chasing each other or fighting, throwing water at each other. It's just one of those little thoughts your child mind produces and you forget as you get older. I was blown away one evening whilst driving home in the rain, she says "Mommy and Daddy! Yuh know those two wipers look like two children fighting and throwing water at each other, two rude children... dem rude enuh! Don't dem look like dat Mommy?"

I had to give the car a 1 minute stop and let the years come back... then let the strange feeling of synchronism and time-loop or -warp sink in and settle and explain it to her and her Mommy why I had paused.

I think this is a lesson on the metaphysics of things, the unknown and unexplained, a sense that their are greater psycho-spiritual things going on, we are more than we know... paranormal, in search of... STRANGE BUT TRUE...

Open Letter to the Western Media (UNPUBLISHED)

The media is too concentrated, too few people own too much. There are really five companies that control 90 percent of what we read, see and hear. It's not healthy.
Ted Turner

Any dictator would admire the uniformity and obedience of the U.S. media.
Noam Chomsky

There's less critical thinking going on in this country on a Main Street level - forget about the media - than ever before. We've never needed people to think more critically than now, and they've taken a big nap.
Alec Baldwin

I am the voice of a generation
Bob Dylan

Greeting once again Montego Bay, after some introspection, rummaging through the remains of the day, I have realized I wrote a slew and rash of Open Letters tackling many of the National Institutions and Government Ministries, and realized that there is one entity or body I failed to tackle and that is the MEDIA. The media in western Jamaica particularly, and the Western Mirror is not exempted from this. For I believe the media in western Jamaica has been lackluster and underdeveloped for too long now. Once people could have escaped under the notion that we are a small demographic without a very intellectual or reading population. Not so anymore. This is the Mobay and western Jamaica of big names, characters and events like Brown Sugar, Usain Bolt, Colin Channer, Jah Cure, Queen Ifrica, Mackie Conscious, Sumfest, ATI Weekend, Jazz & Bluesfest and such. We are now witnessing a growing intellectual community with UWI now officially here and a whole host of other cultural and artistic facets growing fast behind it. Hence it seems odd we have the same floundering fledgling television stations, and only two surviving newspapers of note, and two radio stations.

I believe the western media has been slow in growing fostering and honing great talent. I sincerely believe in the second city lies the next set of big television personalities. I believe Mirror has been long overdue in becoming a western paper, with a western edge and vantage point with NATIONWIDE distribution. I believe western media has also been slow in harnessing new technology and grabbing the new generation’s attention. They have also been slow in reaching deeply and widely into the western Jamaican diaspora abroad. The media out west now needs to be a platform and voice, giving legitimacy and credibility to its talents, writers, columnists, TV personalities, to its audience.

Self-examination by western news and media organizations is always useful and crucial at this junction in Western Jamaica’s growth. In this great future, the Western Mirror needs to mean more to the minds of the people than SUSS and Death notice and Murder updates it is time we seriously go about "Preserving Our Readers' Trust." Because, politics, a republic, a democracy cannot operate without an independent, critical, and responsible press, it is now MOST incumbent on western news and media organizations to continually assess their own performance to see if they are fulfilling their obligations to the PUBLIC.

Because of its importance to the functioning of our political and social life, the press and media will always be subject to criticism and critique. It is then our obligation to take such critiques seriously; doing so requires not only responding to legitimate criticism, but having the fortitude and integrity to reject baseless attacks and the more basal natures in our society.

Today the western media is polluted and clouded with a mountain heap of archaic and ancient media pundits and demagogues it is time to whole heartedly embrace a real and legitimate generation that is of age and time and deserving of having their opinions heard. It is time to “diversifying our vantage point", but not out of fear of sales, but out of a genuine desire to report on the full scope of Montego Bay and Western Jamaica’s social and political life. We the media need to stop perpetuating some of the crudest stereotypes of the nation holds of those outside the main metropolis, like the idea we are small, backward or unentertaining and lacking in vibes or opportunity.

The Wesern Mirror in particular must understand that this paper occupies a unique place in Montegonian and western journalism, with an ability to set the news agenda and the larger political agenda that is unparalleled among news organizations, even those with vastly larger audiences. This power confers upon you a particular obligation to act responsibly and uphold the highest standards of our profession.

Reality for Old Media representatives and executives is self-fulfilling. That is, the reality broadcast through the airwaves and printed on dead wood has for so long influenced the way that the general public perceives reality, it has become inconceivable that a time would come when our pictures and words would no longer drive public opinion.

I am writing this to you as a final warning. That time has already arrived. With the advent of the Internet, people from all over the world, able to tell their own stories and reflect their own perceptions to willing eyes and ears have provided an awakening and shake at the very foundations of what you currently perceive to be reality. A whole generation will be influencing opinion through their peer groups and relying on YOUTUBE and blogs to influence and inform their understanding of our city and how it is perceived. The radio or the paper may not affect this generation if you don’t begin to reflect a modern reality and not the dream of sleeping giants the western media and news organizations have become.

Yannick Nesta Pessoa
http://yahnyk.blogspot.com
yannickpessoa@yahoo.com

New Poems...

And since I can find no other outlet right now... seems no one is interested in my material at current... why not just toss them on the blog and make a vain hope that something germinates and catches and excites some literary type out there to gimmi a chapbook, or shudder... a full fledge publishing deal. Ha! This one is to wild dreams and aspirations...

Left Behind


...And it seems,
When it is you came to mind,
You'd moved on,
And I've been left behind.


Yannick Nesta Pessoa
Copyright ©2007 Yannick Nesta Pessoa

Run Away Thoughts on Love and Cost

What it is about you,
Sometimes I just can't tell,
Maybe it's your purple pheromone,
Or the fact that you wear it so well,
My favourite flavour of green,
My flavourite smell,
What it is,
I just can't tell.

Maybe it's how your scent,
Pricks my nostrils,
Until...
Memories arise and I am aroused,
Yet constrained by what time and space allows,
Dying to linger and to carouse.

Yes, yes, yes,
I must confess,
I am left...
Feeling like less,
Saddled with the still life images,
Of when I would sipple,
On impurpled neck, lip and nipple.

Maybe it the tip,
Yes the tip of your lip,
Or the convex curve of your hip,
That brings that moth in me fluttering to life,
Like being drawn to light,
Ending if only temporarily my turmoil and strife.

Yes, yes, yes,
I must confess,
I am left...
Feeling distress,
Saddled with the still life images,
Visions of us living in rural seaside villages,
Prisoner of passion in times passages.

Likkle Ms Red Riding Hood
 
Back to reality I said,
Fantasy worlds she explores instead.
So if you must go...
to the real world as it were...
Which of your fairy tales am I?

Cinderella, Rapunzel, Snow White...
And she names quite a few,
In a haste and in a rush she asks...
Which am I to you?

Hold on nuh, hold on nuh,
Stalling for time,
Ploughing and rooting through my mind,
Trying to get one through...

She had hurtled her questions,
With Matriarchal Supremecy,
She brimmed with a hubris of one certain of victory...
This I knew.

Hold on nuh, hold on nuh!
Now finding the one to get me through,
I found my stone,
Now in memory of father's face let my aim be true.

And like a shepherd boy and a giant,
I am that which you had not suspected,
The one she never knew,
In coy shy dry wry humility I sail one bullet,
Now let my aim be true.

And like a King before me,
I am the wolf in shepherd's clothing,
The big bad wolf,
And before she can finish hoisting another
which am I to you?

I respond...

You are...

My Likkle Red Riding Hood.

My Gospel

My dearest dear,
My fair-est fair,
It is you I invite to read my Gospel,
To be enchanted by my god-spell,
I'll be your Jesus,
And make you my dearest apostle,
My acolyte,
Secret place at night,
Cleave to me,
Let your thighs show belief,
And hold me tight,
I make miracles and set things right,
I am the golden child,
Brilliant and bright,
Touch the hem of my tattered garment,
And I'll undo yours.
 
Yannick Nesta Pessoa

Christmas

I had dream where Jesus turned in his grave,
Christmas consumes the souls he came to save,
Money and mammon are masters and many are slave,
Picking up their crosses and forgetting his cross and all he gave,
Neon signs on the road to future we pave,
Commerce and WWJD is all the rave.

The cock crows thrice on Christ's mas Eve,
Many celebrate not knowing what they believe,
Content with meager salaries and bonus the receive,
Merchants peddle and use fat red saints to deceive,
Tell strange and compelling stories about how a virgin did conceive,
Always forgetting the truth of how the King does grieve.


MY LOLITA

So, so, so...
I've be lulled by the way you loll,
By big bottoms and dimpled thighs,
Imperfect skin like mine and coy smile,
Unrevealing eyes.

Here I am in my secret place,
Cursed in the strangest of ways,
By you my Delores Haze,
Captivated, I simply look and gaze,
...And view,
You.

Sixteen,
Young fresh and not so green,
Black velveteen,
And me the Natty libertine.

Bubbler bubbling in...
Her Rapunzel room,
Her Board House Bordeaux,
Secret smiles,
With secrets in eyes,
Do you realize,
You are my Lolita.


Left Over Wine

I must have been forgot,
In his Majesty's schemes and plot,
For I am king too...
Am I not?

It seems in the grand design,
I was left behind,
For after lesser mortals do dine,
It is I who must suffer sipping the left over wine.


She Greaves

Some how...
I failed to expect such vulgar and hostile silence,
An uncommonly profound and intangible sort of violence.

She left and still leaves,
She grieves,
Because I deceive,
She couldn't believe,
In the web of lives and lies this dreamer weaves.

Was my presence so bitter and so vile...
Such a nuisance all the while,
That now...
Not even a smile.

And has my doubtful path,
My unwavering course of majestic disasters,
My penchant for being the dirtiest of pretty things...
Caused this harsh and parched and caustic... exile,
To the periphery of your embattled existence,
Have I compounded the blighted years,
Add green bottles of tears.

I don't know...
But I do understand...
That though she ...
I'll never See Moan or mourn,
I now know she Greaves.


Rahab: Into An Harlot's House

She has eyes like fire,
That dance and flitter with desire,
She had harlequin lips,
Soft subtle hips,
Coy postures and quirky quips,
She shimmers with the danger and legacy of hollow tips,
Black and comely,
She is a lovely... thing,
And oh how the crescent is alive with whispering,
Rumouring... that you might be inviting,
The neo libertine... The Herlequin King... in,
And oh isn't he tempted to prolong this legacy of sin.


Seekers of Dreams

Across the blank, white landscapes,
We battle the vapid and mundane,
Lexical mancing and lexical graphing,
To paint images to bland minds,
To link soul to art,
We make works of heart,
Searching the caverns of the brain,
Ever yearning for the pinnacle of the mind,
We battle on a deep, silent plain of white,
Spilling ink with ever slash,
We tie yesterday with memories,
Bound to honour beauty,
Love and art are our duty,
We are the seekers of dreams.

Yannick Nesta Pessoa


Turquoise Sea

…And I see it clear, 
It’s fluid, 
somewhere in here, 
whispering of something, 
I should know out there.

It’s the world I want,
it’s mellow, 
With the girl I want, 
supple and spirited,
I need to reach yet I can’t.

My eyes burn with clarity, 
As I am immersed in briny waters, 
Sky blue and teal,
Colour the world I can feel...

Yannick Nesta Pessoa


Silence On All Frequencies

I won't speak,
For to speak is to lie,
I won't listen,
For to listen is to be deceived,
I won't think,
For to think is to make belief,
I won't be touched,
For to be touched is to hurt,
I won't smell and taste,
For to smell and taste is to remember.

AM, FM, I'm dead on all frequencies,
I'll take it on mono,
I'll take radio silence,
Fly solo,
Its hard to determine,
Did I dream a belief,
Or was it that I believed a dream.

Yannick Nesta Pessoa


Middle of Nowhere Restaurant

…I sit amongst devils and a whore, 
Exactly where I’m not sure,
The Middle of Nowhere Restaurant most certainly.

The children of the damned scamper here at dawn,
The wretched of the earth stumble in,
Here is home and haven to sin,
The elderly are imps of darkness,
Bent and crooked and thin.

I’ve heard it said,
That the rapture must come,
The good ones must go,
While the rest will reap,
Hell in the evils we used to sow.

The light shines here,
But it’s still dark,
It mourns of a yesterday with a hope and spark,
But its all gone now,
The Beast has left its mark.

Yannick Nesta Pessoa

The Wandering Jew

I wash the dried saliva from my face,
I hope the scent of sin will wash away too,
I look out the window and see the world by night,
Pastel designed in mellow moods and tragedies,
While stars, watchers, sing melodies of memories and maladies,
I search the sky for David's star on my way to my very own beloved Bethlehem,
And I wonder...
Are the stories true...
Is there really a long lost wandering Jew.


Ode to Idle Thinkers

For all those who stare out the window,
Beyond the mountain and beyond the tree,
This poem connects all those who think like me.

Holding on to all those... though,
Shackled by people's alleged reality,
Still manage to look pass the ocean and deep into the see.


Unleaded

The sunsets and the evening sky is period red,
Simon Garfunkel's Cecelia is playing in my head,
I unhear all the things she said,
I only wish the succubus were dead,
She said she liked me cause I was unleaded.