Unpopular: Political Revamp

“Any realistic vision of change must be based on the notion of empowerment of people.”
Michael Manley

Today the People’s National Party’s position is quite unenviable. PNP’s elected officials have struggled to find a clear and compelling message that speaks effectively to the whole of the country. General principles and values are one thing; a succinct and up-to-date message is another. For too long the political mantra of the PNP though not explicitly said is that: “we're out to beat Jamaica Labour Party, and not help poor people.

The PNP hasn’t found the formula that both bridges these internal fissures and appeals more broadly to a bigger electorate. If you look at it from the outside, it’s not so healthy. The People’s National Party is not very popular today with a lot of people, and that is truly a problem. If you look at it in absolute terms and just look at where the PNPs stand today: not very good. You look at where the leadership stands, you look at where the party stands in terms of the public, it’s just not good. There’s no way to call it good.

Party leaders and stalwarts are always fearful of leadership contests, as they know the vitriol, malice and even violence normally reserved for rival political parties will turn inwards and the true nature of party politics will be revealed. There are those in the PNP who would say it’s an overstatement to suggest the party is in the midst of an identity crisis. Yet after years of political observation and watching strategists, elected officials at many levels and grass-roots activists, it’s clear to me that for all the anti-JLP energy that exists, especially on Facebook — is energy that will invariably help to bind PNPs in common cause come 2020. However, the party’s challenges are serious. Ideological differences are only part of it. This is a party of rising constituencies demanding not just to be heard but to be at the table of decision-makers. It is a party in flux, moving from one era to another, with no obvious leader and an identity yet to be fully shaped.

One reason factions of the party and electorate has moved left is that much of the power and energy has shifted from establishment leaders toward the grass roots, whose strength was highlighted by the presence of FHI360, COMET ii and USAID, programs and grants that are boosting Civil Society Organization as well as community based groups. Hence through their own cooperation and movements people have seen the value or socialist ideology, but not necessarily the value of political groups, which are subject to the whims and fancies of Delegates, political hierarchies and bureaucracies. So as communities see viable alternatives in forming Social Enterprises, Social Entrepreneurships, CDC’s, Benevolent Societies, Neighbourhood Watches, conversely political groups which are reliant on hand out and scraps or scarce benefits and spoils. It then seems incumbent on the party to engage these groups, join them, boost them, rather than solely or explicitly soliciting hands and hearts to your individual political aims or goals.

If one failed to notice globally, Jeremy Corbyn, Bernie Sanders, Alexandria Occasio Cortez and Kshema Sawant prove that socialism is alive and well even in the heart of world superpowers. It is fervent in Latin America. The Nordic countries of Denmark, Finland, Sweden and Norway have implemented socialism in their economic institutions. The Norse countries consistently ranked near the top of the world in happiness, human development and overall well-being, have highly organized labor markets, universal welfare states and relatively high levels of public ownership of capital. Yet the PNP drifts ideologically and philosophically here in this 21st century. Then when we see candidate choice and selection for both local and central government elections are riddled with egomaniacs on both sides who treat the electorate as secondary or non-essential till election day while always courting the delegates of both parties who are stuck as die hearts to each party or victims of some kind of political Stockholm’s syndrome.

Here are 7 topics which are hot globally and in the streets of Jamaica with civil society organizations, community activists, USAID, the youth and the Rastafari community, yet I have never heard PNP mention:

1. Public ownership ,
2. Citizens cooperatives ,
3. Civil society organisations ,
4. Open government ,
5. Open source ,
6. Universal basic income
7. Social enterprise / social entrepreneurship.

These questions of leadership, identity and philosophical outlook unnerve the PNP, because the party has no scaffolding. All the dominant leaders of the last two generations—the Manleys, PJ Patterson and Portia Simpson Miller—have receded. The myth of PNP country is discredited and defeat has shaken the party’s foundational strategy—or, at the very least, exposed it as a wishful description of a more distant future, rather than a clear plan for victory in the present. The PNP has in opposition an illusion of unity, but the reality is deeply conflicted. The establishment in the party want the disgruntled to disappear, but reality doesn’t work like that. Two of the party’s largest concerns—race and class—reside in an increasing state of tension, a tension that will grow as the party turns toward the next election. To produce a governing majority, the party will need to survive an unsettling reckoning with itself. The JLP didn’t just prevail over the PNP; they called into doubt their old truths.The party’s must begin sensing the emotional landscape of the people they are selling the vision to, not delegates, but its general membership and the wider electorate.

About the author: Yannick Nesta Pessoa B.A. is Jamaica’s first blogger, a Community Activist, an Artist and Entrepreneur. Follow Yannick on Twitter at @yahnyk | yannickpessoa@yahoo.com

Who I Am!

“De pain and the fight, the hate and the lies… Pain and heartbreak, supm inna it weh mi love, all a mi life experiences build me up as thug.”
Alkaline (Juggernaut)

When the valley couldn't hold me, they throw me in the river, Thinking I would drown, but man, ah, good swimmer, whoa, When the river didn't drown me, they throw me in the fire, But the fire just cool, I could never burn, oh
Major Lazer (Believer)

As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another.
Proverbs 27:17 (Bible)

My journey to me starts in 1919… why because it is where my mind has a definitive anchor in history. That is the day Dorothy M. Thompson was born, my mother’s mother, I would spend 33 years of my life imbibing her life and that of her children and grandchildren. When I say imbibe her life experiences, imagine what it was like for me as a child in a pitch black room at nights with your granny’s voice recanting her life experiences, in the pitch black when you can’t see your own hand so you feel disconnected from your body. The black room become your own mindscape and that voice and those experiences become stitched in and meld with your own, when it is as though that voice inhabits your psyche now till this present moment… then my life can seem at times to start 1919… in the midst of history and milestones.

Understand I was with Dorothy in Rock River Clarendon, when she went to vestry, when John took her to the UNIA, when she ate Milly mango in Diamond, when she met her husband Allan Thompson, when they came to Montego Bay, from Gravel Lane to Tate Street… when she met Howard Cooke, when she became the PNP matriarch, when she worked at WoolWorth, till she got her tuck shop up at Cornwall Regional Hospital, when she became the pillar of the community in Paradise Acres. Through all her pains and heartbreak, joys and suffering… what I didn’t glean in the dark room I would live to see in action myself.

I am my parents… I am my father, when you see me being an entrepreneur… no matter how I may fail or flounder, it is an instinct that comes from having imbibed his life and am still imbibing it. Everytime, I draw I am my father, for the gift came from him, and everytime my daughter or her classmates, or children in the community look at things I draw or paint, when they look at me as some hero, it's because my father drew me out of a thousand school projects and was my hero. And even though I haven’t become a millionaire just yet, every dollar earned from that talent, is what he gave me in a manner of speaking. Plus so much more. For I was with him when he grew up in Four Paths in Clarendon, catching water in the early mornings before dawn, with his brother. I was with him going to Glenmuir, I was with him when he came to Montego Bay, when he met my mother, when he wooed her, when he married her, when he sold insurance, when he became an entrepreneur, when he made his life and forged his own path.

I am my mother… who I inherited social activism from. I am her quiet nature, I am her silent strength… the fortitude it takes to go through long suffering and go the distance. Yannick is a hebrew name that means, the grace of God, and if there is any grace in me I am sure it came through her. She taught me children and family over career… not through speech but her choices and actions, and I have seen much value in it. When I write poetry it is the amalgamation of my parents… their love affair with the English language, her social sensitivities and keen sense of emotional observation, his concubines… a green websters dictionary with a tree on it, Reader’s Digest, Time Magazine and National Geographic.

I am my community which manage to teach me in the 80’s that it takes a village to raise a child. For it was as simple as this, “all wah mi do and don’t do, dem tell mi granny.” So now I will forever fight to return the community to that type of communal love. For I am also the community’s victims of that lost love… I am Gully, I am Delano, I am Little Dread, I am Goosey, I am Sticky Bean, I am Baboo, I am Warface, I am Marley, I am Andrew Bailey, I am Joab, I am Zuggy, I am Jooky, I am Stumpy, I am Sweaty, I am Stubba, I am Goodfy Jeffrey, I am Umpa, I am Jigs, I am Wiz/Alkaline, I am Delly, I am Kerris, I am Shorty, I am Hulk, I am Jevaughn James, I am Danny, I am Warrick, I am so many more fallen soldiers. I am the best of my community, I am E. T. Webster, I am Tappa, I am Jimmy Cliff, I am Cecil Donaldson, I am the Youth, I am the Senior Citizen, I am the community heroes like Venise and Tash… I am I-crus, I am the elder, the mechanic, the shoe repair man, the upholster, the shopkeeper, the selector, the Juta Driver, the artisan, the labourer, the mason, the carpenter.

I am my teachers, I am Mr. Mcpherson, I am Co-Hall, I am Ms. Gordon, I am Ms. Nelson, I am Mr. Barnes at Cornwall, I am Mr. Miller, Rev. Myers, Mr. Maddans, Mr. Haughton, Mr. Taylor, Mr. Clarke, Ms Daze/Wilson and Reverton Bailey. I am Aggrey Brown, I am Roxanne Burton, I am Earl McKenzie, I am Tunde Bewaji, I am Dr. Bamikole, I am Jalaani Niaah...

I am more than a slim natty in a 5’11 frame. I am Pan Africanism, I am Rastafari, I am Socialism, I am African Spirituality, I am Afrofuturism, I am tomorrow, I am that which makes you uncomfortable, I am science, I am arts, I am metaphysics, I am human, I am supernatural, I am God, I am man, I am community, I am football, I am basketball, I am cricket, I am mistakes, I am failures, I am success, I am unstoppable, I am unbreakable, I am indomitable and my name is Yannick Nesta Pessoa.

A Jamaican Introverts Lessons on Stoicism

"it has always been easy to get to my heart. there is no other way of stating it. the best poets are lovers, are receptacles for pain, joy, injustice and the innocent smiles of children... we read potential in the countless faces of evil, we carry many, many wounds... to always be this way, to care too much can damage one's spirit yet... "
~ Haki R. Madhubuti, A Poet's Call

Do you know what the secret of every stoic is? Do you know root of why a person would want to remain as a statue or mannequin in anger and in happiness? Stoic people are introverts... well kind of. Stoics are cold mechanical robots or unfeeling egotist trapped in vain self adoration... no, nope, naah! I tell you the secret. They are ultra sensitive empaths, subject to all of the feelings and energies around them. As a consequence of not wanting to become overwhelmed with emotion and the vulnerability that comes with displaying emotion and letting people know too much about your feelings, psychological weaknesses and triggers. Yes the stoic is sensitive to emotion and his or her environment and very aware of the risks and opportunities for exploitation that portraying emotions and being betrayed by emotions can bring.

As a child... I had always admired Data and Mr. Spock for their stoicism but never knew what the word was to describe the trait, it wasn't I was reading a Captain America comic and as the Red Skull continuously confounding him but he remained un-irritated by his assault and onslaught and pressed on relentlessly in pursuit of the Red Skull. The Red Skull then asked how did he remain so stoic... he then went on to tell him his presence was ubiquitous. Both words were too much for a Grade 6 student at Mt. Alvernia prep, I consulted my Mother who then sent me to consult the dictionary. My mind was then forever emblazoned with the meaning of stoic and stoicism as a philosophy. I also learned Ubiquitous but we are talking about stoicism.

A stoic in philosophy is a proponent of a school of thought, from in 300 up to about the time of Marcus Aurelius, who holds that by cultivating an understanding of the logos, or natural law, one can be free of suffering. In ordinary terms it means a person indifferent to pleasure or pain... I wouldn't meet Marcus Aurelius until I was doing a philosophy degree and coincidentally met Xeno and Socrates... both said to be stoics. Before that Socrates has just been a learning game I played and a Brazilian footballer I admired in the 80s but I digress...

I adopted the concept of stoicism upon meeting it, but not known its name when I grafted it from Data and Mr. Spock. But as a student of stoicism I know why I thought I needed to adopt it... it was as a response to relentless teasing and assault on my psyche, by an aunt who told me I was ugly when I ate, who told me I was an underachiever, I would walk and sell newspaper on the roadside, who said I dig my nose constantly and I was ugly when I did it, an aunt who blamed me for even her own child's errors sometimes. I realized quickly in some way that she seemed to enjoy my sadness or unhappiness and when she reprimanded me it seemed to embolden her when I wilted. Stoicism the approach that Data and Spock seemed the only answer. To remained stone faced and unflinching in spite of emotions.It then seemed the only response to my problems with my father. For when it seemed to me like my ideas, my expression of honest thoughts, and expression of self was something that seemed to anger him, irritate him and annoy him. And so in the interest of avoiding conflict, to avoid confrontational situations I defaulted to stoicism around him, I feared my least opinion would offend him, I wouldn't say much or do much, simply to be compliant. I know now that maybe, that tactic may have done some harm, as my stoicism was interpreted as being, nonchalant, antipathy, apathy, egotism and maybe an attempt to put a rift between us, when my only intent was to avoid disagreement. I haven't figured out perfectly the nuisances of navigating that relationship and ones like it. For the women in my life with the exception of my daughter I think stoicism has probably subtracted some of the warmth that may have been injected into our relationship. For my wife stoicism and years of practicing it means I never let myself be fully lost in the feeling of being in love or high on love, for to love too much is to invite the greatest potential for pain... it means to be forever grounded in reality and never wholly lost in the clouds or the moment, to anticipate disaster even when it may never come.

For my mother it will mean in response to not wanting to pine for her as child as it was hard to have her at my disposal. She was the emotional reservoir for everyone in the family, it seemed she was either being my grandmothers pillar of strength, my aunts assistant, the family accountant, the shoulder to cry on for every child in the family and all my cousins. It led to me not wanting to lean on her and so never really employing her as my secret bearer or pillow. It meant that having to see her surround in bed by everyone and no room for me... meant practicing to not need that comfort of mother. For her it meant interpreting it as a he is strong enough to do without that much attention as everyone else. It meant maybe I wouldn't be as huggy and kissy as she would like... it meant that my emotions for her would be penned up in some cranial chamber and whenever they ran free they would appear as letters on her desk.

As much as I had watched Star Trek, I realized I had been seeing the stoicism, but as I had needed it as an tool to filter my constant emotional sensitivity and an empathy that would allow me to feel for everyone. A weakness that could be exploited. However after years of re-watching Star Trek I realized Data was made emotionless and was on an eternal quest to become emotional and understand emotions, which filled him with a child like wander and awe at humanity. Mr. Spock was half human and half Vulcan which was a logical race averse to emotions yet they had the mind meld which was meant as a mechanism to facilitate greater and deeper communication with each other. Also in one of the major Star Trek movies Spock gave his life to save his ship in some radiation chamber etc... but his justification for the act was the utilitarian concept "the good of the many out weighs the good of the few" and went on to commit what he logically saw as necessary, yet to me it was a selfless act no matter how masked as logic it was, it had been driven by the emotion of love or and care.

This concept took me into something I read by another philosopher and Poet... I will close with Khalil Gibran who posited... "But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night. To know the pain of too much tenderness. To be wounded by your own understanding of love; And to bleed willingly and joyfully."

Summer Lightning

It was a mango time,
That my stars aligned,
The Sol and Mercury were in my sign,
Season of Simeon and Levi,
Twins of the Gemini.

It was a time my reflection in the mirror,
Showed the future,
The past buried behind glass,
It was a month of moments,
When moths like Maat,
In Jamiekah they call them bats,
Flitter on uncertain paths,
From the bath... room
And round my bedroom.

I worry about them pointlessly,
The bother of croaking lizards,
And nibbled wings,
Oh where is my cat?
I miss my cat,
And not...
Because of the returned rats.

And sudden lightning landing,
Over head at Overton,
The alarm cannot be avoided,
But what joy to sit in the season,
And see overseas,
Dark clouds churning electricity.

As I count the remains of the day,
What can one say,
About the big gains,
Niggling nagging pains,
And alas...
The loss of little things,
The loss of so many things!

Musings on Identity!

Identity... In community life and wider Montego Bay l was Ms. Thompson grand son, during various stages of school life I was Dax brother, with the advent of my Dawta, the new ID is Kee-kee Faada... Did Yannick Pessoa ever exist???

Do you know him? I don't think anyone has ever really employed that name... It seems a vague thing I hold dear for some reason I forgot. I know I am called Yaneek by the average Jamaican, Johnick by caucasians, a Hebrew name lost in so many translations, I am the oldest birth certificate holder in the island with that name, maybe one or two women inspired me with the way they said it in my ear, I am Yanni to many in Paradise, Yanni-man to another section of Paradise, Jesus to quite a few in Paradise, my mother calls me 'come here mi big son or handsome son', my grandma said 'maah-yan' and 'Maas yan' that one would kill school mates who bore witness to it in use, it was one I was terribly afraid of people discovering, I am Yannicky-pooh and pooh bear can you believe that to the most serious and morose spirit on earth my father, my sister says 'nick', at least that one seemed cool, bin Laden's to my uncle Tommy, yan to my wife... Yah Neck when she upset, Piss power to Camara Brown who would discover that name I received in 7th grade... Trooper and troops to Dax, Poppy, Thura... No no no mi nuh sure mi ever meet Yannick Pessoa!

A Letter to Dorothy Maud Thompson

Remembering Dorothy

"He who learns must suffer, and even in our deep pain that cannot forget falls drop by drop on the heart, and in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God"~Aeschylus

Dearest Grand Ma,

I am sorry I couldn't have read my piece about you at your funeral, I had so much to say and I felt it would take forever, and every time I thought on speaking at the moment to speak, I became overwhelmed with emotion, and still do until this moment when I think of you. You were a monument in my life and the tree under which I could always shelter. It's been a year now and it still hard to know you are not here, and sometimes I think I tell myself you still are here and it is how I handle the reality. I am so glad you met Kyrha, and will never forget the day you took her picture from me and I couldn't get it from you and gazed at it all day and told me how beautiful she was, and I am glad she loved you. She speaks of you often and recalls how you were protective of her and saying in you grannified voice "don't run outside," "where you going with you naked bottom," or simply "come touch mi nuh, hold mi hand." She refers to you now as the ancestor she knew.

KeeKee and her Great Grand Ma

These days when she sleeps with Juilette, I remember all the nights I slept beside you,and would listen to you conversations with Aunt Elise on the old telephone with the round dial. How my mind would wonder in the dark beside you, to what England looked like and what Tate Street was like in the days gone by that you were speaking of, listening to you discuss politics, and say "YES... AT YOU" How I wondered about the Jamaica you described, was it like the pictures on your wall? How I imagined the Kendal Crash as you recounted it, and Hurricane Charley... how I imagined Diamond as an orchard filled with "Milli" mango. So too I wonder if Kyrha is imbibing yesteryear with Juilette and taking imaginative psychic journeys.

I still have my first memory of you solid in my mind, with you arms on your hip, standing in the doorway before the hallway to the kitchen, under a wooden clock with a metal face with flourishes painted on it, and you were talking to Juilette and Roy at the door the Veranda, and you asked them if they had come for me, and I said "bye Dada" for Dada was the name I called you, and I turned around and looked at Roy and realized he was Daddy, and I had given you his name, and having a guilty feeling as though I had cheated him of a title, for in my tiny mind at the time it was a title akin to God as that is what you represented to me a matriarchal start, a genesis of sorts, and I had established in my tiny mind that you had come from a more primordial place than Juilette and Roy and you would be my cognitive ambassador into yesteryear, you would forever be my marker in history, as though 1919 was the year my life began as well, and every event in history that happened after 1919 would be an event that I would wonder where you were or what you were doing or where was Tommy at that time or Carol or Juilette, where did you live at that time, what schools they would have been attending at the time etc... I doubt Kyrha's connection with you was powerful enough to start her at 1919, but there is hope, like I said before... she remembers you well and even carried yuh name go abroad, speaking of you as though you were still alive, and when asked about she responds you are in heaven and you are her ancestor now! So it seems you are on your way to joining some pantheon of God's or gods, even if it's just our personal familial pantheon. And even she doesn't start 1919, I hope she at least can start at 1952 now that she sleeps with Juilette.

I don't know why but I feel charged with keeping an eye on your children and nieces and nephews. I wont say I am doing the best job, as many days and nights I wonder if we will or have already become scattered and dispersed like seeds in the wind. Not as connected to a central hub as when you were here. I am glad your friend Nurse Donaldson, comes by and I think she fills the gap you left for Juilette.

Here is another thing... since your departure, my eye and mind has turned to things like the senior citizen's association and their activities. I followed Nurse Don, on one of her excursions, was a decent experience, but so so heart rending to see even at ages of 70 and upward human being frail and on the edge of existence and to me a bit between worlds closer to a spiritual place, than they are here in the material, and yet they push on with some sort of effort some sort of activism, making a difference to community and society, impacting babies, another set of entities fresh from the spiritual plane and frail to this material plane...

I am trying to keep up with your SOCIALISM and SOCIAL Activism... but to be honest it is much disheartening and disenchanting to see what your beloved PNP has become, a far cry from the Manley's, a far cry from the veranda philosophers and ideologues that shuffled about the Republic of MoBay in your heyday... ushering in Howard Cooke as a political staple in Western Jamaica, far cry from Marxism and street side debates on proletariats and bourgeoisie... far cry from the free education "UWI 'I am black and I am proud' middle class intellectuals", a far cry from Rock River Clarendon type grassroots, a far cry from collective action, a far cry from people's cooperative, far cry from the left even the face of modern leftist successes. Its a popularity contest of personalities and populists pandering to the public with only personal gain in mind, power and position. I am sometime tempted to believe we will never see any political revivalism of that conscious 70's Black Power, street intellectual order. But I press on in hope...

Shortly after before your funeral Syreeta (Ms Ritz) and I were discussing you and your impact and your legacy, something she wasn't so familiar with. The concept is this... you are the first mega star weh mi know... but I think she may having been wondering how so, so this is the perspective I let her be privy to...

[8/25/2014, 6:35 PM] The Emperor's Attorney: Isah... jah know the security n warmth she was,
[8/25/2014, 6:36 PM] Syreeta: Ok
[8/25/2014, 6:36 PM] Syreeta: Sigh she was
[8/25/2014, 6:36 PM] Syreeta: We had our moments; we used to reason n ting
[8/25/2014, 6:37 PM] The Emperor's Attorney: Mi know she n everybody do dem one a way... a di general enuh
[8/25/2014, 6:38 PM] The Emperor's Attorney: Some ppl know bob marley or manley or obama... I n I know dorothy thompson
[8/25/2014, 6:38 PM] Syreeta: Ye fa real star
[8/25/2014, 6:39 PM] The Emperor's Attorney: A she mi see from mad ppl to pj to howard cooke to manley etc come a 15 hoyt drive..
[8/25/2014, 6:42 PM] The Emperor's Attorney: She a mi real icon... n mi a tell u in real real life like mi feel honored n proud to be her offspring n descendant...
[8/25/2014, 6:43 PM] The Emperor's Attorney: She build bare mega n mini star as her bloodline
[8/25/2014, 6:43 PM] Syreeta: Ja know cuz is real talk dat
[8/25/2014, 6:45 PM] The Emperor's Attorney: She to mi build tommy monty n roy as 3 mini megastar... n camara grow under her hand and do ar ting... n mi jus never meet more real or potent characters or smarter ppl dan mi family members an who surround me that she build or bless up
[8/25/2014, 6:46 PM] The Emperor's Attorney: All dj is a story n a colorful character
[8/25/2014, 6:46 PM] Syreeta: Dat is so true
[8/25/2014, 6:48 PM] Syreeta: N so many people luv n rate har like its amazing to me
[8/25/2014, 6:48 PM] Syreeta: Daddy tell mi how much yute she help n raise dat wasn't fi har own
[8/25/2014, 6:48 PM] Syreeta: Dem type a people nu mek again
[8/25/2014, 6:50 PM] The Emperor's Attorney: Parri as a yute every weh mi go inna paradise n norwood mi unda watch n protection all who mi nuh know seh miss thompson granny or mi nuh waan unnu touch im dis one yah a fi ms thompson
[8/25/2014, 6:51 PM] The Emperor's Attorney: As yute I used to wonder how so many ppl know her...
[8/25/2014, 6:51 PM] Syreeta: Yea
[8/25/2014, 6:52 PM] The Emperor's Attorney: Even in paradise the amount of ppl weh sit mi down an seh yute ms thompson do dis fi dem she a di backbone of the community etc
[8/25/2014, 6:57 PM] The Emperor's Attorney: U have a don up yah weh police kill name goosey... a rasta inna him late 40s an a eediat waan war over him ooman... n from di man a pass n smaddy tell him she tusto waan war of ms t gran son over dis lilly bar gal..  di man nuh know mi in person enuh... di man fly inna di bar n rush.di man n tell mi seh no man cyaah do mi nutten n mi nuh no man no talk u granny do more dan enough... an seh come on out.. rolling in fat suv
[8/25/2014, 7:00 PM] Syreeta: Wow
[8/25/2014, 7:01 PM] Syreeta: Dats so crazy
[8/25/2014, 7:03 PM] The Emperor's Attorney: Anytime mi waan name drop or draw rank certain way pon ppl... dorothy a di most powerful ting mi can pull pon... when mi n ppl all deh reason n dem nuh know mi n seh yow dah rasta meds high... some paradise smaddy always jump n seh man a tru ms thompson gran man di whole a dem brain big u nuh see thompson forehead
[8/25/2014, 7:05 PM] Syreeta: I'm not surprised that so amazing to me tho...

Comics, E-books, Audio Books and the New Literary Era! - PART 1

The Literary World I Entered

I don't know but I have to do this post... as an avid comic reader in Jamaica since the 80's, when my mother first introduced me to Archie comics... I quickly became disillusioned for it seemed perpetual that Archie would forever pursue Veronica whom I disdain rather than Betty who I preferred... Jughead would never get fat, and Reggie would forever be a bad-mind fr-enemy! Then a friend of mine or a co-worker of my mother Woodrowe Brown and my sister Tanya, introduced me and my brother to Asterix, so for awhile I had the Gaul to defy Caesar with Asterix and Obelix while sip on a brew from Getafix... then the summers became filed with those big Garfield comic magazines, some how a lazy conniving feline craving lasagna never charmed me long, then my cousin Camara brought forth Calvin and Hobbes, I fell in love with that comic... Calvin's perception of the world mirrored my own!

My adventures with Superheroes started before reading however, and the earliest parts of the eighties were spent reaching home by 3 o' clock and changing off the signature uniforms of St. James Prep. and Mt. Alvernia Prep, then waiting in front of the T.V. watching the rainbow thingy, with the black bar at the bottom, yep keenly watching the little rainbow square pixels of the cathode ray tube till JBC signed on and it was time for the evening cartoons.

Enter Transformers, Thunder Cats, G.I. Joe (for some reason I hated it) Mask (this too I hated) He-Man and the Masters of the Universe, Silver Hawks, Jase and the Wheel Warriors, Galaxy Ranger, Spider-man & his Amazing Friends, Superman in many many many incarnations... yep the corridors of many a school I attended would be filled with booming chants like Mumra's 'Ancient spirits if evil, transform this decayed form to Mum-RAAAAAH, the ever living' and 'Moon Star of Limbo... give me the mighty, the menace, the muscle... of... MONSTAAAAR.' I remember one day at Cornwall in Bio Class, 9 grade... I'm probably 14, and we all full of testosterone and pretending to be little men, fascinated with the words Vagina or the vulgar vernaculars... days spent imaging female teachers in lurid fantasies...

So it surprises me one day in Bio class, we are doing an ecological study, at a time an age when eco means simply recycle and don't litter... so the teacher asks some questions but we on top of it more than usual so she was from Nigeria and asked in her African accent how come we had all the answers for a change, and for some reason either myself or someone beside me started singing "Captain Planet he my hero..." and the whole class breaks out into chorus... "GONNA bring pollution down to zero..." all the way through to "Earth... Fire... Wind... Water... Heart... GOOO PLANET!!!" So for all the testosterone and bravado and force-riped-ness... we were still boys watching cartoons and thinking about Super Heroes. But for the most part it never ceased to amaze me that every boy in class instead comics were for kids, worse a girl my age's opinion of comics was that it was for immature dolts.

 

I was never a literary connoisseur, the books I read were all for school... Except for a summer where I was bribed into reading Enid Blyton's "The Greedy Goblin and other stories" blaaaaah... Boring but I waded and ploughed through it. 

Those days English books and cartoons seemed dull and dreary... Grays and dark blues and boredom. Stuff like Curious George and Little Blue... The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe television series. Lots of scary claymation! But back to the books. I never read much literature... Give me the Astronomy books, Daddy's old National Geographic and Time Magazines, he and I spent of my early life watching Leonard Nimoy's "In Search Of" documentary series... he had some Conan but I never got the joy of Savages and naked women at that stage of life, as girl loving as I was... I'd rather have looked at the lingerie models in the back of Mommy's Cosmopolitan and read about the 6 to 12 new sex tips the editorial team had discovered each month. Dad also had Reader's Digests and Louis L'Amour... But those never got me either, so like I said my journey with books was more about reading Astronomy books and grasping the next Monday night episode of Star Trek the Next Generation on JBC. I also had a thing with a series of books called Tell Me Why...

I remember bookshelves like this, especially my cousin Camara's... full of Enid Blyton!

My boon in Superhero Comic Books sailed off with an entrance in to a Pharmacy at the bottom of Union Street, named Jamaica Pharmacy or someting to that effect, in their my brother purchased a Superman story arc called "Panic in the Sky" and it was a great intro to the plethora of DC comic superheroes, but I had purchased another hero, it was Spider-man Amazing Tales, which I think printed 70's re-run of old Amazing Spider-man comics. I had hopped into Spidey's world while Ron Frenz illustrated it, and Spider-man had just returned from Secret Wars in central park in an alien costume he didn't comprehend... he was going to college(school) he was working at the Bugle, he had a social life with lots of hiccups... and I was forever stuck in the web of North American re-branding of Anansi as Peter Parker. I also got my hands on Flash, Wally West's run as The Fastest Man Alive, and I jumped on right as they had been looking at his youth origins in a series of Year One stories. I was struck by that comic and it's lightning and Wally West's coming of age story... at the right kinds of time in life...Literature for me really began in High School... prior to that it was "Reading Books" in Prep School.

Those final days of prep school and forays into comics would see my vocabulary expanding, my grasp of science spreading... as I scrambled to the dictionary to understand what "Red Skull meant when he said Captain America as 'UBIQUITOUS'" or to encyclopedia to understand what Spider-man meant when they discovered his suit was a "Symbiote", or to ask science adept people like Woodrowe Brown to explain how Flash vibrated through walls and what atoms and molecules were and there different states etc... Ubiquitous I wouldn't meet until 8th grade Lit at Cornwall, Symbiote I wouldn't meet till 9th grade biology, atoms and molecules came with 9th grade chemistry and physics, but the science behind Wally West and his through wall molecule trick wouldn't be till 10 or 11 grade. Imagine... comics encoding all that science in me prior to high school. Comics contributed to those 80's and 90's averages and grades at the good old CC! Yep those days were some Wonder Years... not unlike the television series of the same name.

My official debut in literature came at the bothersome stage of life called puberty, as I entered first form or as I knew it then... the 7th GRADE... with insecurity and testosterone roiling in combo. It was at this time I met Sprat Morrison... The Young Warriors, Three Finger Jack Treasure. Shane, The Chrysalids, The Pearl, Green Days by the River, The Wooing of Bepo Tate, A Cow called Boy, A Brighter Sun...



A Brighter Sun is the apotheosis of a Caribbean bildungsroman, a quintessential coming of age story. What I loved about this book was that it was about a young couple... trying to forge a life, in what was considered in my time as TWEEN years... yup Tiger and Urmilla were tweens trying to forge a family and the book was littered with all the sexual tensions of teen life and the wonder years of sensual and sexual discovery... granted it was an undertone of sorts. What is so philosophically great about it is the social reality illustrated in the novel and how it lovingly examines sections of working-class life like a microscope to a microcosm, its an empathic and human interest fiction of Trinidadian life, even Caribbean life to an extent.

Tom Sawyers and Huck Finn weren't bad, but I hated Tom Sawyers for his attitude towards Black people, so Sprat Morrison and the adventures of a young boy living in Papine, a suburb of Kingston, was great refrain. It is widely studied in Caribbean schools and deservedly so.

TO BE CONT'D...

Speak Truth to Power!

Created with Kwote!

Proposals on Revolutionizing and Fixing Education in Jamaica!

Document | Article: Proposals for Education Ministry and System in Jamaica

For a long time the media and most thinks have purported the idea that we live in the information age. We live an age where cell phones and gadgetry pervade all walks of life. Computers and the internet are constantly creeping into our lives. Sociologists will contend that the family is the primary agent of socialization. But most of know and will very well contend that it is the TV. Especially in an age where the family is in crisis and in the third world where the core notion of family lives in a state of flux, the television and cable have taken prominence.

Folklore, Anansy and the oral tradition have been usurped by Sponge Bob, Dora and Hannah Montana. With absentee or limited supervision parenting rampant and the television controlling brain space and time at all times and any given hour, whilst the education system will only have them for 6 to 7 out of 24 hours much of which will be ruled by televisions and corner time no wonder we are unable to transmit and pass on the education, knowledge and morals we need to.

Mister Minister on the heels of your party’s message of change and changing the course, the courses and course of the education system has changed little. At this crucial moment in history the education system with all its short comings are in need of radical overhaul and requires new approaches and revolutionary thought. We need to design a curriculum to stimulate the development of analytical skills. The thing I care most about is that we focus not on the specific set of tools, but on the ability to “learn and apply a current tool set”.

The truth is that we constantly acquire and discard sets of tools. So we should not be fixated on one specific set of tools for all of life. Society, technology and the times change so fast that any fact, process or algorithm we learn at school is by definition not going to be useful for any length of time. The real skills that serve us are the ability to adapt, learn, apply the products of that learning, and participate in the discussions and challenges of the day. That doesn’t mean that facts are useless, or that specific tools don’t matter. Unless you can demonstrate an ability to absorb and apply both, fast, you haven’t actually gained the knack of becoming effective in a given environment.

How can we better communicate with them?

The traditional talk and chalk won’t work with this generation. Our communication style is structured, yet they want freedom. The old order stresses learning, they like experiencing. We react, they relate. We focus on the individual, while they are socially driven. Here are four essentials to consider when engaging with youth today:

Real:

Not only must our communication style be credible, but we must be also. They don’t expect us to know all about their lifestyle, nor do they want us to embrace their culture. They are simply seeking understanding, and respect. If our communication has a hidden agenda, or we are less than transparent, it will be seen. This generation can sniff a phoney from a long distance.

Raw:

Today’s youth have access to the most advanced technology, movie special effects, and video games with which we can never compete. But the good news is that they are not impacted by slick presentations. They don’t want a rehearsed talk, or a manufactured spiel. The more spontaneous and interactive we are in the classroom, the less intimidated, and more open they will be.

Relevant:

Obviously what we are communicating has to fall within their area of interest. But the style, as well as the content of our message must be relevant to a generation who are visually educated and entertained. There is no point in giving music to a friend on a cassette tape if they only have a CD player, or on CD if they only use MP3. Similarly we must research in the most appropriate format for those we are reaching. So in understanding the communication styles of our target cohort we will be better equipped to reach them.

Relational:

There is an old and true saying in education circles: “They don’t care how much you know until they know how much you care!” Communicating to this generation requires openness, vulnerability, and genuine interest in those we are trying to teach, and above all else, understanding. The more relaxed the environment, and the more socially conducive to discussions; the better will be the quality of the learning.

The Issue of Text Books and Learning Materials

Today, many children and individuals have MP3 Players, I-Pods, Smart-phones, computers, DVDs and DVD players, Radios and Televisions. Lots of in Jamaica are in some way linked and have some access to the various media. Today, I believe it is a tragedy that books, audio-books, tutorials and classes and the entire Jamaican and Caribbean syllabus are not posted online in PDF on accessible sites, material and content for our youths’ education should already be on their cell phones, in their DVD players, on YouTube.

It is an even more horrendous thought that every entrepreneur with a two-bit dream of becoming a media mogul can implement far reaching cable stations, whilst JIS is relegated to a time slot on TVJ, instead of being a Caribbean BBC, the U.S. has PBS and as a matter of fact the BBC has managed to pervade the island. We have an A.M. Band going to waste and yet I have seen people in small communities with their small means and incomes set up small radio stations and internet radio stations, why is JIS being broadcast, why aren’t we making full use of all the channels and vectors we have that can be used to bombard people with sensible, useful, practical, culturally relevant information.

I have lived to see middle-aged women become interior decorators watching HGTV and seen nearly illiterate dog lovers in the garrison swear they are dog trainers after a few episodes of dog whisperer on Discovery channel. In this vein I do believe if we have relevant content people will be willing to watch it. If you build it they will come. I do believe we have a wealth of content that can be drawn from, old documentaries from JBC and such. More can be commissioned, after all this is the era of YouTube movie directors, Open Source content and citizen journalism.

I am convinced the government has been lacklustre in pursuing technologies such as Linux, Open Source and notions such as FOSS. Brazil, Mexico and India are already using these to bring technology more cheaply to their nation. There are also revolutionary methods of implementing technology in the class room all throughout the Americas.

Also Mr. Holness I am sure you will probably have played dominoes with illiterate people as I have and been beaten by people who have never learnt primary school mathematics, which is proof that the education is disconnected from the everyday realities we face. Someone must have the potential to learn math if he can grasp the process of deduction and numerical elimination it takes to play domino well. We live in the Caribbean and still don’t learn enough about where we live. Why isn’t there our national geographic?

The other day I had to watch on foreign news that lizards that do morning exercises had been discovered in Jamaica. Lots of municipalities and small nation states have set up their own, local intranet that can provide the general populace with basic informational resources, like wikis and encyclopaedias and educational material. Today it is the nation’s own fault we are falling behind in education.

The government must become the primary agent of socialization, as parents and the family are lagging. If we are to grow a nation we need to grow people. We need our human resource to grow and develop. Technology, TV, internet, cell phones and the Radio are the way to reach them.

A Final Word:

The quality outcome of our education system is dependent on our understanding of the youth. Once we have a foundational grasp of their characteristics, communication styles, and social attitudes, we will be well equipped to effectively impact this enormous and emerging generation.

We want to create a curriculum that can:

Be self taught, peer mentored, and effectively evaluated without expert supervision.

Provide tools for analysis that will be general useful across the range of disciplines being taught at any given age.

Be an exercise machine for analysis, process and synthesis.

The idea is not that children learn tools they use for the rest of their lives. That’s not realistic. I don’t use any specific theorems or other mathematics constructs from school today. They should learn tools which they use at school to develop a general ability to learn tools. That general ability – to break a complex problem into pieces, identify familiar patterns in the pieces, solve them using existing tools, and synthesise the results into a view or answer… that’s the skill of analysis, and that’s what we need to ensure the youth graduate with.

Yannick Nesta Pessoa

#education #youth #jamaica #revolution #change #governement #governance 

A Poem for Emancipendence: An Ode to Daddy Sharpe!

SQUARE
written by Yannick Pessoa

"I would rather die among yonder gallows, than live in slavery."

 Black Birds shit on me and in ur hair,
You pass me on the street in the square,
You barely see me and u do not care,
About all the things that happened here,
340 executed in Parade...
U know where I'm talking?
Do you know which Square.

207 killed during revolt,
Bodies piled to be carted,
All because of what I started,
Imagine how my heart felt,
Feel my heart melt,
Buried in mass graves ,
Outside of town late at night,
Just for the freedom fight.

Black Birds shit on me and in ur hair,
You pass me on the streets in the square,
You barely see me and u do not care,
About all the things that happened here,
340 executed in Parade...
U know where I'm talking?
Do you know which Square.

Rebellion is what the crown hates me for,
Some of my kind don't rate me,
Cause I preach no war,
No my son and daughter go astray,
For I didn't die to see my city,
Become Guntego Bay,
Where are the parks?
And someone tell me...
Where do the children play?

Black Birds shit on me and in ur hair,
You pass me on the streets in the square,
You barely see me and u do not care,
About all the things that happened here,
340 executed in Parade...
U know where I'm talking?
I'm talking, I'm talking...
Sam Sharpe Square.

Click the Sam Sharpe pic to read a small bio!

Madiba: Aluta Continua

African leaders whose vision could be toppled by the secret hand of capitalism!

“Overcoming poverty is not a task of charity, it is an act of justice. Like Slavery and Apartheid, poverty is not natural. It is man-made and it can be overcome and eradicated by the actions of human beings. Sometimes it falls on a generation to be great. YOU can be that great generation. Let your greatness blossom.” ― Nelson Mandela

The chronicle of Nelson Rolihlahla Mandela, and the variety of ways in which his story crossed paths with Jamaica is important to the island's history and that of our diaspora. It must become part of the story of the emerging self-belief of people of African descent. It is also an account of a human being allowing his best and noblest self to prevail.

It is easy and very plausible to tell Mandela's story without also speaking to Jamaica's story. But as a Jamaican it would be remiss of me not to mention, how this little nation, smaller than the population of Soweto and separated by thousands of nautical miles from the shorings of South Africa, prognosticated for the isolation of South Africa in response to apartheid from as early as 1961, three years before Mandela was condemned to Robben Island.

One of Jamaica's prime ministers, Michael Manley, was in numerous ways the designer of the sporting and cultural boycott of South Africa, which, incidentally, was more cogent than economic sanctions to that degree that the psychology of being a white South African was concerned. It is little wonder that Jamaica was one of the first two countries visited by Madiba after his incarceration. He visited Jamaica and Cuba in July 1991, with our beloved Winnie Madikize Mandela at his side, and they received honour from the Jamaican people.

He was a visionary, he had a grand project. He was political. He had an avid sense of strategic timing. Yet he wasn't Machiavellian. He was loved because he was neither Mugabe nor Blair. His vision ran through his life. He was noble. And, like a virtuous father, to be kind, he sometimes could be cruel.

He was distinguished and most especially he had an vast love for his people and for the project of establishing a non-racial and non-sexist South Africa.

Mandela vigorously defended of his loyalties to Iran, Cuban leader Fidel Castro and Libyan leader Moammar Gadhafi, all of whom supported him in his battles against South Africa's apartheid regime.

Mandela was on the U.S. terrorism watch list until 2008, when then-President George W. Bush signed a bill removing Mandela from it. (Obama is yet to oblige Marcus Mosiah Garvey similar courtesies.)

South Africa’s apartheid regime designated Mandela’s African National Congress (ANC) as a terrorist organization for its battle against the nation’s legalized system of racial segregation that lasted from 1948 to 1994. (Marxist legal theory at work here: Karl Marx argued that the law is the mechanism by which one social class, usually referred to as the "ruling class", keeps all the other classes in a disadvantaged position).

Former U.K. Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher also described Mandela’s ANC as a “typical terrorist organization” in 1987, refusing to impose sanctions on South Africa’s apartheid regime. President Ronald Reagan did as well.

But Madiba was more than that, he was an African man of moral sense. He was a man of virtue. Moral excellence and moral sense that made him so acclaimed globally since he led a nation at a time when virtue and morality were universally absent amongst global leaders. He slammed Bush and Blair for the war on Iraq: 'What I am condemning is that one power, with a president who has no foresight and who cannot think properly, is now wanting to plunge the world into a holocaust.' For Blair he had these words: 'He is the foreign minister of the United States. He is no longer prime minister of Britain.'

He rose above acrimony and bitterness. He was unselfish and could reach out to his enemies and cross many divides. He was eminent because he was the great unifier. In many ways he was the designer of the New South Africa.

Mandela was neither magnate nor angel. Mandela wasn't unaccompanied in the grand journey of African redemption in South Africa. One only has to read Bertolt Brecht’s great poem, Questions From a Worker Who Reads, to know: 'Who built Thebes of the 7 gates? / In the books you will read the names of kings. / Did the kings haul up the lumps of rock?...'

The fight to emancipate South Africa was a collectivized crusade. Furthermore it was the force of the most oppressed, the workers in the factories, the destitute in the community, blue-collar women and youth that ultimately carried the apartheid government, if not totally to its knees, at the least to talk terms and discuss the conditions of the end of their racial scheme.

All struggle requires a vehicle, a social movement with leaders that can present political focus, tackle the arduous strategic and tactical routes. Nelson Rolihlahla Mandela's ANC came to prevail. Even so, Mandela was the first to recognise the parts played by a broad array of social movements that formed the fight for national liberation and the mass democratic movement.

And while Mandela was the one to start dialogue with the apartheid government, he tied himself to the collective leadership of the ANC. He took the first steps, he led but he did so as part of a collective. He was an organisational man. He took pains to explain he was a product of the ANC. He was a man of the black, green and gold – but he could reach beyond organisational limits.

He had this quality of being able to keep people together. Even his critics – and he had them – submitted to him at the end of the day as a moral leader. Without him I can't envision how the transition would have gone.

Aye, zillions of words will be spoken and written on Madiba’s legacy, now, in the months to come, next year and thenceforth. And we will scramble to do this legacy justice. The hardest part will be to catch the essential Mandela, going beyond myth-making whilst precisely evaluating the inconsistent nature of that legacy.

Since the present can't be interpreted without understanding the past, and not everything that is haywire with current day South Africa can be put at the doorway of Zuma or Mbeki. The negotiated resolution that effected a democratic South Africa on the cornerstone of one person one vote will be reckoned as Mandela’s greatest accomplishment. It avoided the scorched earth route of bloodletting which we at present see in Syria. And even so it's those compromises that are nowadays falling apart at the seams. The unharmonious social inequality (very Marxist in nature) that has given rise to South Africa as a country of two nations: one white and relatively prosperous, the second black and poor (I believe arx would have termed these the: bourgeoisie and proletariat respectively).

Social divide the hallmark of society today!

Mandela’s legacy will likewise have to be weighed by the reality that South Africa is more disunited than ever as a result of inequality and social exclusion. The rich are richer and the poor poorer. The great unifier could undertake great emblematic acts of reconciliation to pacify the white nation but because, by definition, this involved sacrificing the redistribution of wealth, reconciliation with the whites was performed at the expense of the large majority of black people.

Mandela was great, but not so great that he could bridge the social divide built into the 21st century capitalist economy that has given us the era of the 1 percenters. It is the ill-fated timing of South Africa's transition, coming about as it did in the period in which global power got inextricably tied into the global corporation, empowered through the conventions of neoliberal globalisation. Reconciliation necessitated the forsaking of ANC policy as vocalised by Mandela on his discharge from jail, 'nationalisation of the mines, banks and monopoly industry is the policy of the ANC and the change or modification of our views in this regard is unimaginable.'

Nevertheless it's this forsaking of nationalisation, nationalisation representing the redistribution of wealth which was determined by the needs of reconciliation not just with the white establishment but with the international capitalist economy. His encounters with the international elite at Davos, the home of the World Economic Forum, convinced him that compromises needed to be made with the financiers. In the words of Ronnie Kasrils: 'That was the time from 1991–1996 that the battle for the soul of the ANC got underway and was lost to corporate power and influence. I will call it our Faustian moment when we became entrapped.'

It's exactly this capitalistic road that's verified such a calamity and which could ultimately demolish Mandela’s life’s work. To do justice to Mandela’s lifetime of commitment and sacrifice for equality betwixt black and white, the fight must continue.

It today has got to stress on subduing inequality and attaining social justice. In this fight the entire African Diaspora will require the greatness and sapience of umpteen Mandelas. Our brethren and sistren in South Africa require an organisation committed to marshalling all South African black and white for the freeing of the wealth of that state from the hands of a bantam elite. It will necessitate a movement akin to Mandela’s ANC, a social movement based on a collective leadership with the blended qualities of Steve Biko, Neville Alexander, Walter Sisulu, Albertina Sisulu, Govan Mbeki, Ahmed Kathrada, Fatima Meer, Chris Hani, Ruth First, Joe Slovo, Robert Sobukwe, IB Tabata and the many greats that led the battle for African liberation. But most importantly the African Diaspora and South Africa will need the multitude who take their fate into their own hands and become their own liberators.

Are these the things that Nelson Rolihlahla Mandela struggled to achieve?

Reflections on Summer, Youth and Community

I-sah, summer draws to a close and there is much to reflect upon for the summer that is 2013! It's been hectic and I am certainly a different man. U-nah-mean so much in my meditations now. Firstly, I spent an immense and intense amount of time with Keekee in Paradise... our relationship is on another level right now... I feel a tighter bond. She all make me proud since this past week, when friends come to link mi fi mek a small check on a (problematic CQ61 HP Compaq) laptop headed to the pawn shop at City Centre, anyway... out comes Keekee out the house into the garage... "I'M YOUNGGG, GIFTED AAAND BLACK!" Mi breddrin dem look in amazement then pop up and seh "Coulda only fi yuh pickney Rasta!" But sitting a 3 year old while you have signs to paint, brochures to design, t-shirt fi design, your own newspaper to try and start, your blogs to write, articles, drawings to finish, paintings to be finish, Artistes biography, PR for Artistes/Breddrin, moeny to try make, bills to pay, Cashpot fi study and try ketch... It can be heavy and cumbersome sometimes, when every 15 minutes, Daddy I'm hungry, Daddy I want juice, Daddy tie this for me please, Daddy I want to go to the bathroom (All when she a do this by herself now), Daddy can I get a paper, Daddy can help me draw this, Daddy I want to go to the shop, Daddy I want to go by Jayla. YOW! More time mi feel mi brain go sprain... but a so it go. Daddy love you.

My Grrrl Boss: Ms. Young Gifted & Black!

Then there is the added task of trying to be a good son, assist Mommy with her burdens, as they are many, do the little I can, drop the goods to the hospital etc. That wobbled some here in the summer owing to all the constant things, things, things happening.

For one their is the Youth Club as well. AH BWOY! A real story and saga, and partially the inspiration for this article... for other than the intense Keekee hours, alot of the other hours were spent throwing mental and physical powers to the Youth Club and general community matters. And can you imagine after all that effort, in the Youth Club, it went up in flames I-YAH! Jah know! You can read the Observers small take on the matter at this link: Paradise Fire! Youth Club went in the Blaze!

Just to attend is a great effort on my part to, sit, stay, pay attention. But I did... eventually now I operate as PRO. But to imagine... the Kid's Treat today and stuff gone up in flames, free food, free slippers, second hand text books etc etc etc. And granted the media says fire of unknown origin, I suspect arson.

Anyway how all this ties with summer and youth, is because between having to be constantly around my 3 yr old daughter, and her 5 and 10 year old cousins, who host tea parties and stage shows ("Paradise Sumfest" with a painted sign included) outside my un-closed door and interacting with the communities tweens and teenie boppers and teenager cockroaches more than normal, with back-to-school here and ll this youth energy, it gave me a chance to remember a lot of my youth and mildly relive and remember what those youthful days of girls boys and summer adventure and the hassle and havoc and turmoil that, that social period and various stages and cycles of development are like... Do you remember what they were like?

We live in an age today, where President Obama Nobel Peace Prize winner will trumpet his second officil war, Libya being the first, now we see the trumped up charges with no UN proof for a Syrian War. Yes come September Obama and World War 3 will be in the backdrop of the children and the youths lives and TVs. Occupy this and that and 99%ers will probably be protesting. And just like when I came into to Earth, a war was in full swing on JBC... I would grow up in the ending years of the cold war and would hear Mikhail Gorbachov and Yitzak Rabin and Yessar Arafat, Gaddafi etc... constantly in the back drop of my life.

But what about the foreground... do you remember those Calvin and Hobbes-esque summers of immortality, infinite energy and endless hours. The more well endowed among us will remember there first cars, some the first job, or even the first summer job, most will remember that first kiss! Don't! Nuff a unnu must remember when it seemed like the whole world was exploding with new ideas and you were searching and reaching out for new experiences, wanting to see and know this world. Seeing through new eyes. Youth, Puberty, Adolescence, Growth, Change. It's a bitter sweet journey and beautiful sight.

But this article has to be continued as Keekee's pressing need to watch TEAM UMIZUMI (did I spell that right) oh well... youth.... gwaan listen this Avicii till when next I write

P.S. Youth(Dax) Happy B-day! To days of summer and youth, cricket and basketball!

The Sexuality of Semantics: How the Jamaican Public Makes Every Word Pubic!

Have you ever noticed how... Jamaicans "sexualize" every word... veggie/vaggie... pork/pokey... Boy don't make any mistake and ask for Coco Bread at the shop. Other words like wood, rod or plank means penis... pole etc...

Think about it for a minute: hole, pot/pat hole, hold u, squeeze... quint, squint, cat, pussy, all have vaginal references... in Jamaica words mean 1 of 4 things... penis, vagina, oral sex or anal sex/batty man business... This horror and tragedy is not subject to words, but numbers as well... look at the much maligned 2, once a symbol of balance and duality and harmony and such... now! Look at 666... what an evil number, do we even know why? 

The animals are in uproar too... Richie Spice, one of my all time favourite artistes... "seh nuh styles me as dawg, dawg a sittn shit a people yaad" and Dawg seh nuh styles man as me... mi nuh shot mi bredda and abandon mi pickney or mek nuclear weapon fi destroy earth... and Cat objects to being the symbol of all vaginas and cowards, (by the way, where did we even inherit this disgust for vagina... men are pussies, go suck yuh ma pussy... yet we all born from it as men and spend our lives going back there).

Almost the entire sea community is in uproar about us land lubbers use of the word fish... not to mentions horses and donkeys pissed at what we call ass, chickens that make a daily task of standing up to chicken hawks and mongooses and rid our yards of forty legs... are hurt that we call cowards, chicken... as if a species that has to live off domesticated animals and is afraid to hunt... has the right to call them cowards...

I am through talking in patwa and english... too sexualized and we cast the worst aspects of ourselves and human psyche on the animal kingdom... mi need a new mental space... more linguistic freedom... a place where being a cunning linguist has no punny punishment or consequences... mi done... Rosetta Stone here I come... SWAHILI... AMHARIC... ARAMAIC...AFRIKAANS... new mission #OccupyAnotherLanguage

Boyne, atheists and the Bible

Published: Thursday | September 24, 2009

The Editor, Sir:

Ian Boyne's articles on militant atheism makes no case for Christianity's validity, vitality and value to humanity, if not of religion in general.

The recent Sunday articles are in the usual vein of

Boyne's cowardice and intellectual dishonesty.

He does an exposé of atheists, probably for the hype of the topic and the rise of atheists like Bill Maher and much of the literature he discussed, but, as a religious man, Boyne takes no stance and seemingly presented the atheist argument so well that there is no defence he can make. I am of the belief that he is incapable of giving a creditable answer for Christianity and all its faults.

I cannot see how well-thinking black people who have suffered at the hand of slavery backed by the Bible can still cling to it. Christianity is losing on two grounds, the logical invalidity and inconsistency in the Bible and throughout its arguments, as well as the history and authenticity of the Bible and its account of history and the world.

Will never subscribe

I, as a black man, will never subscribe to a religion that claims:

"When a man strikes his male or female slave with a rod so hard that the slave dies under his hand, he shall be punished. If, however, the slave survives for a day or two, he is not to be punished, since the slave is his own property." Exodus 21:20-21

"Slaves, obey your earthly masters with deep respect and fear. Serve them sincerely as you would serve Christ." Ephesians 6:5 NLT

I am, etc.,
YANNICK PESSOA
cyber_yan@yahoo.com
Montego Bay

http://jamaica-gleaner.com/gleaner/20090924/letters/letters2.html

To New Found Friends!

The Trio who lit up my morning at work... the first and hopefully only time I'll work for anyone...
Charlie's Angel's

Stacy, Michelle & Ms. Campbell... back then, the way things were... tsk tsk... sob!

The Angel's again.

Bubeyeng a.k.a. Denzel... the loyal and faithful soldier who carried me on her back through VistaPrint, while I was doing the VistaSprint... if only she could see me now!

Prackka! Prackka! Prackka!