A "culturally relevant" education

I give credit to the man who used the term- Professor Aggrey Brown, former Dean of the Faculty of Humanities and Education and Director of my school, CARIMAC (Caribbean Institute of Media and Communication) at the UWI, Mona campus.

I give credit to a man who for the first time in my education allowed me to think on my own and question. Before him, I was told to regurgitate. "So and so said, so it is." But he taught me the most important lesson of my life. It was in a single word. A single question. "Why?"

Nothing "is." Nothing lies in a vacuum. There are causes, effects, paradigms, frameworks, worldviews, objectives, environments, contexts, agendas. Who is talking? Now what's behind who is taking?

Therefore communication was inextricably tied to all disciplines. Especially history, economics, sociology, politics, business, psychology, ethics. A communicator is thirsty for knowledge and is not afraid to research and find out new things. To ask questions. A good communicator can communicate any subject matter stemming from any discipline, even if not his/her own. He also stressed that to understand current events, we cannot do so without understanding context. In the midst of that context, you will find history.

History is not separate from the current. History, in many ways defines the current. Are we not the sum total of our past experiences?

Therefore, to understand where we are now as Caribbean nation states, as countries developing in the world, and to understand those said to be developed, we have to know how we all came to be so.

Another important lesson learned is that there is never one side to a story.

Our West Indian history, before the establishment of the UWI was written by those in the UK, who had their own paradigm altogether. Men like Carlyle who said black slaves imported from Africa were lazy on the sugar plantations (that captialized the Industrial Revolution in Europe) because they would eat and fall asleep under pumpkin trees. I don't know about you but I have never seen a pumpkin grow on trees. Furthermore, we were taught the histories of other places with neglect of our own because of the direct link into a well of bitterness that could ensue among people now enlightened that their former colonizers had really raped and exploited them and let them go when they no longer suited them.

It's a political argument. But history, like current affairs, is highly political. It is always about power. The lack of it, or the want of it. Who has it, who uses it wisely, who abuses, and who is victimized by it.

I hold no grudge. I just don't want us to believe that Haiti is just the dumbest place on earth. Haiti has had a past of serious exploitation. They are the blue people in Avatar, as are we who have faced enslavement and colonization, only we got out a little better than Haiti. The lovely wooden homes in the Southern USA, and all of the lovely architectural wooden details in the homes in Savannah Georgia, originate in the trees of Haiti. I learned about the history of Haiti in High School and at University. It is indeed a sad history. But such is the history of colonization. Unfortunately unlike the Moors in Italy, it is still too recent for us.

Haiti, Cuba, Jamaica, India, Africa and other countries have hell to pay for having the gumption to stand up to others more powerful. Jamaica has buckled for individual political gain and also aid from the US. Don't even forget the dumping of the dirty industries in our countries - industries that would evoke outcry in their own countries - utilizing child labour, expelling harmful toxic emissions maiming and slowly killing generations, burying toxic waste where people live, etc.

It is a nasty chain of events that has led us all to this day. But you know what is even sadder?

The Jews are allowed to speak of the holocaust but "slavery"and "colonization" from dispossessed blacks makes everyone uncomfortable. Why? Why can't we get reparation for the grave genocide that we suffered at the hands of those who were out to make a buck and build their own wealth who now police the rest of the world and cry foul on such behaviour?

Do you know what Haiti could do with that money? It is outlined in the articles below. Do you know what Jamaica could do with that money? End poverty, educate our people and put social systems in place so that our uneducated, disenfranchised youth don't feel like crime is the only way to get ahead.

These modern day embargoes on Haiti and Cuba are inhumane. How dare Castro to speak irreverently of US policy, right? Is communism still a "threat" in the west? Was it ever really? Who says capitalism is not the threat and not communism? Under capitalism, individual wealth has soared highest among the wealthy while the poorest have gotten poorer and the gap widens between rich and poor. There is no real "middle class". And who says that one man is more entitled that the other? I guess some people are really more equal than some. George Orwell was on to something. Capitalism is not a humane political agenda any more than a communist dictatorship. Both are too extreme. The truth lies somewhere in the middle.

But what can we say of Cuba? Cuba has the highest literacy rate in the world. 97%. Where does the US fall in that?
Cubans have learned to be creative and to recycle because times have been hard since the Bay of Pigs.
Cubans are good sportsmen and women.
Cubans have highly developed arts education and preservation.
Cubans still help their richer neighbours by schooling them, providing free health care, building sports complexes and schools for them etc.

Colonization and invasion is wrong. It is wrong for one man to be more right than another and to forcefully wield his power on a sovereign state will disregard for the laws of the land. I do not believe in war.

Why can't we all just get along?

Last lick

I leaving Jamaica in a few hours. Going to board one big jet plane with little more than a prayer for the next leg of the journey and a copy of "The Poisonwood Bible" to read. This always gets me ... when you have to pack up your entire life in two pieces of luggage not exceeding 50 pounds each, which parts do you take with you and which do you leave behind?

I am up at 3:00am packing. I waited till the 11th hour. I started at midday today. This is not regular packing. I was forced to unpack things I took from the Island Behind God's Back and repack for storage and a few things to take with me.

Being overweight on a transatlantic trip is no joke. I don't plan on being crucified accordingly. I think I have too many things already, but will just have to make space in NYC if needs be.

I am taking very little with me. No photo album, no wall-hanging, less than 10 pairs of shoes- all for a trip that is supposed to take me away from my home-base for roughly 12 months.

I have learned the hard way that there are precious few things that actually mean the world to me. Handmade bags and earrings by imelda, an old maternity dress cum nightgown that my mother wore for her pregnancy with me that the sat down and repaired and a crotchet tam made by her. Pashminas for feigned modesty, suits in the hopes of a new vibrant career, and music to take me through the motions.

Everything else is expendable. Especially when it comes at an additional charge of USD$175.

I have a few weeks of quiet contemplation in New York before heading to Dubai.

Nervous? If you cut, won't I bleed?

Usain Bolt is the Fastest Man in the World... for life!

He did it again.. He broke his own record.... From 9.69 to 9.58. Third place to fellow Jamaican and former fastest man in the world, Asafa Powell who ran his best time this season though under his PB of 9.74. Tyson Gay of the USA ran second with a national record of 9.71. Every Jamaican is proud today. Jamaica does it again.

And so....

Day 1/365

This is a study, a commitment to shooting everyday with the intention of posting my best or most relevant shot of the day. I will try to post everyday to keep it flowing but know that there will be days when that will not be possible. I still promise to shoot each day though and to update as regularly as possible.

PHOTO INFO: The Pelican Restaurant, Montego Bay, a real Montegobagonian hangout spot for Sunday Brunch. It's been around forever (some decades). I can still say such discriminating crap in this the last of my TwentySomething years.

Jamaica Farewell

by Harry Belafonte

Down the way
Where the nights are gay
And the sun shines daily on a mountain top
I took a trip on a sailing ship
And when I reached Jamaica I made a stop

(chorus)
But I'm sad to say I'm on my way
Won't be back for many a day
My heart is down
My head is turning around
I had to leave a little girl in Kingston Town

Sounds of laughter everywhere
And a dancing girl swings to and fro
I must declare my heart is there
Though I've been Maine to Mexico

(chorus)
But I'm sad to say I'm on my way
Won't be back for many a day
My heart is down
My head is turning around
I had to leave a little girl in Kingston Town

Down at the market you can hear
Ladies cry out while on their heads they bear
Ackee rice, salt fish are nice
And the rum is fine any time a year

(chorus)
But I'm sad to say I'm on my way
Won't be back for many a day
My heart is down
My head is turning around
I had to leave a little girl in Kingston Town

I love my country but something has shifted inside me. I don't think I want to come back home without ESC again. I am also not feeling coming back next year as much as we planned to. I feel I need to be in a place that is bigger than me and this is not it. Am I happy to be home? I am relieved to have left the Island Behind God's Back. But even the word "home" sounds pitchy when said out loud in the context of my reality. I have no "home" here. I just 'kotch.' I gave up that freedom/responsibility when I decided to leave the country.

I haven't forgotten why I left. Many of the reasons are still here.

I don't want to come back for a at least two years- not even for a visit. I just want to be away for a while. I hope that one day my own country will again be "home" but until then, I will continue to feel like the leader of a one woman nomadic tribe- just passing through.

The life is back in Sheer Almshouse

I was right. I am happy. Incredibly so. I slept VERY well last night.

Everyone is telling me that I sound MUCH better. Even Daddykin said "You sound MUCH brighter!" Easy Skanking Chef said "You are laughing all the time, and you even sound giddy." Sounds like I am in love right? I am.

I knew that my depression was purely environmental and just leaving all that behind would have been better for me. The overwhelming cloud of heaviness has lifted so much so that I have already re-disovered my joy for life.

Home is my anti-depressant. And love and laughter, the best medicine.

I am eating well again, after a crazy week of not paying close attention to my fitness goals. I am back on track with renewed fervor.

It's funny because I was alone last night, I had no company, but still, I am in great spirits.

It's not that I could not have seen people, but I was too tired to be up and down or to have late visitors. I am still tired, and figure it will be so for the rest of the weekend, but I am content in my fatigue. I will eat well and get in lots of sleep to recover from two weeks of sleeplessness and two months of despair.

I got a few good hugs already and it's just lovely to feel sexy again.

As tired as I was, I made sure to head straight to the hairdresser after unpacking and having a healthy lunch of whole wheat madras chicken roti and fresh coconut water straight from the husk. As much as I am 25lbs heavier than when I left last year, I can't walk around Jamaica in the same drudgery. My hair has to look good. And my 25lbs are feeling good because I have got my oomph back.

I got some Herbalife green tea from K.Azikiwe yesterday and he is supposed to give me some organic vitamins soon. He also gave me my very first Otahite apple ( a wonderful variety found in Jamaica) and a very sweet home grown banana.

I am about to dig in to my very first Julie mango in a year (my favourite mango). Thankfully, my cousin left just one in the fridge for me. She knows me well enough to leave more because I really cant help myself with them, and will eat several in one go. At least now I can pace myself.

I saw it in the fridge last night decided to leave it for breakfast, so that I can enjoy it fully.

Got to go. I have a date with a big, sexy, juicy mango who is giving me eyes from across the room!

Home free

I am back in Jamaica.

I am feeling better already.

I am exhausted. Just need to sleep. Give me a few days.

Spencer not the first

Kern Spencer joins a small list of sitting Jamaican Members of Parliament who have faced criminal charges.

Political historians agree that in the 1940s Jamaica Labour Party (JLP) MP Cleave Lewis was charged with selling farm work tickets.

They also agree that later another JLP MP, JZ Malcolm, faced a similar charge.

However there is no agreement on whether a former MP for St. Mary North, Wycliffe Martin, was charged while he was in the House following a victory in the 1967 General Election or after he lost in 1972.

But there's no question that J.A.G Smith was out of the House when he was charged and convicted for conspiracy to defraud the Farm Work Programme.

Smith, a Minister of Labour in the JLP administration of the 1980s and his Permanent Secretary, Probyn Aitkin, were charged after investigations into several improprieties and irregularities involving thousands of dollars from the U.S and Canadian Farm Work Programme.

Aitken pleaded guilty on May 8, 1990, and became the main witness in the case against Smith.

Atkin was sentenced to nine months' imprisonment.

Smith, a chartered accountant was convicted and sentenced to a three-year prison term.

He appealed to the UK Privy Council, but lost his appeal.

Innocence Lost

GLEANER EDITORS' FORUM - Terror's young captives - Students relive pain, bloodshed, but vow to succeed
published: Monday | November 12, 2007


Children from primary schools across Kingston's inner-city communities participatein a Gleaner Editors' Forum last Wednesday. The forum was held under the theme 'Hopes and Aspirations for the Future'. - Rudolph Brown/Chief Photographer

Tears flowed freely at the most recent Gleaner Editors' Forum, held last Wednesday, which focused on the challenges being faced by primary school children in several inner-city communities in Kingston.

Today, Earl Moxam, coordinator of the Editors' Forum series, presents highlights from that session, held at the newspaper's main office at North Street in Kingston.

Brittany

Her eyes are bright. They glitter with confidence and promise. She says she wants to be a doctor, or a lawyer, perhaps. She could be either, or both, maybe.

But, alas, evil lurks nearby, determined that such promise should not bear fruit. Such is the stuff of which Brittany's world is made.

The grade-six student enjoys socialising, reading and singing. Sounds like the kinds of pursuits that the average 11-year-old would enjoy without having to worry about anything.

Not so for Brittany. She carries the daily burden of life, and death, in her community on her young shoulders. She is afraid to walk the streets and her parents keep her close to their side lest she fall prey to marauding thugs.

"I'm actually afraid, because recently they killed seven people, including a 10-year-old boy, a two-month-old baby and an old lady," she recalls.

At the recounting of such horrors, her eyes lost their twinkle momentarily, as sadness eclipsed the initial joy.

Rebounding with optimism

Shortly thereafter, however, Brittany was soaring again.

"You can't let things let you down. You have to know what you want in life, and if you know what you want in life, you can do it. In my vocabulary, there is no such word as 'can't', so I choose to rise to the occasion and do what I want to do," she asserts with the wisdom of a sage.

But as she looks around at her peers, Brittany is particularly concerned about the boys, many of whom are dropping out of school and joining gangs. For that she blames poor parenting, particularly the absence of enough good fathers.

"The fathers are basically the same as the children. Most of them sit on the corners; they drink, they gamble. I think (the community) needs a lot of fathers. Not biological fathers, but a lot of father treatment."

This bright-eyed young girl takes great comfort and solace from her Christian parents and her church. "If you have a problem, you can go to your pastor or another member and discuss it with them," she advised.

But she is wise enough to issue a cautionary note: "You still have to be careful which church member you speak to, though, because even in the church there is hypocrisy!"

Roje

Roje is a grade-five student. By his own estimation, he is "very good" in language arts. He wants to become a veterinarian.

"I have very good parents who help me with my home-work," he reports proudly.

Despite those positive factors, however, he too is very scared; so scared he was only able to nod his head in acknowledgement.

"What makes you most scared?" he was asked. "The gunmen," Roje answered almost at a whisper and with a shiver. Then he began to sob.

Time to move on to another child ... another story of innocence lost.

Tashana

Tashana has visions of becoming a successful businesswoman. Life at home is fine. It is when she goes on the road that terror grips her young heart.

This is particularly bad for a student who wants to do well in school, but who must risk being caught in the crossfire of rival gangs on her way to classes.

Her memories of the last general election are not of the song-and-dance routines at the party rallies, but of the blood that flowed down the streets of her community as political thugs struggled for supremacy.

Two months later, the shootings continue, leaving Tashana too scared to venture out some mornings.

To compound her concerns, this is the year that this young girl must sit GSAT - the examination that will determine which high school she moves on to. A day away from school, therefore, means a crucial loss for her.

"I'm afraid that if I don't go to school one day, something will be taught that will come in the GSAT, so I try not to miss any day, but I'm very scared," she said, her voice breaking at the end.

Still, she braves the fears because she wants to gain a place at Wolmer's or Campion, her favourites.

Jerome

Jerome has dreams of being a broadcast meteorologist.

He is not fully satisfied with his academic performance to date, but is determined to improve. He takes pleasure, in the meantime, in being "a little bit ahead" of the girls in his class.

He wants the other boys in the school and community to follow his example, but he is worried about some of them.

"I see some of them going around with some men that they shouldn't even walk with, because they will get them into a lot of trouble," he laments.

Amy

Amy (not her real name) is dreadfully afraid, particularly at night, while lying in bed. Even there she does not feel safe from the gunmen who often come charging into and through her yard.

What is worse, sometimes they even knock at the doors of her house where she cowers alone while her parents are out.

So, she is pleading for parents to stay closer to their children, to remain at home with them and give them comfort and solace in the dead of the night while evil stalks and hunts new prey.

Despite such terrors, Amy, a brilliant student, has ambitions of becoming a paediatrician, or a teacher, someday. In the meantime, she has her sights firmly set on a place at Campion when she completes primary school next year.

Devon

At age 11, Devon should be exploring and enjoying life to the fullest. However, much of the delight in his young life has been doused by a sorrow too deep for a child to bear.

In June this year, his beloved grandfather was killed while on his way to work.

While recounting the painful experience, young Devon cannot hold back the flood of tears.

Still, he must go on.

"Some of my good experiences are when I get a hundred or in the nineties or eighties in my grades at school. I feel very good about myself when that happens."

He revels in the company of his parents and he craves for peaceful interaction with his peers.

Jovante

Jovante is enjoying a 90 average in his schoolwork. He wants to become a medical doctor.

He is critical of his fellow male students, pointing out that the girls are generally doing better in school "because they are more determined".

Furthermore, he says, too many males "are not interested in doing well in school or anywhere else."

That, he fears, will result in more criminals being produced in his community.

Nancy

Nancy (not her real name), a grade-six student, wants to become a nurse or a journalist.

Perhaps it is the budding journalist in her that is already breaking free, for she is able to give vivid descriptions of life in her community. It is not a pretty picture.

This child of 11 describes her community as being in a state of war. It is a war in which she and other children feel they are among the primary victims, if not physically, then certainly psychologically.

"I get scared because at times the men come into my house from the front and from the back to hide from the police," she explains.

Nancy is also haunted by the memory of feeling forced to lie to the police. It was during a raid on the community by a police team that the lawmen barged into her yard and showed her a photograph of one of the men they were pursuing.

Did she know this man? Had she seen him today? Where was he hiding?

The correct answer to question number one would have been 'yes'. Likewise, for question number two. Question number three was the most difficult to answer, because only metres away, up in a tree, the gunman was perched, the business end of a deadly gun aimed directly at her forehead.

No, she did not know the man. No, she had not seen him today. And, certainly, she did not know where he was.

The instinct of survival prevailed over honesty.

Jamaica Votes

I find myself awake on what I believe to be the final morning of the People's National Party (PNP) rule in 18 years. I cannot say that I am overjoyed.

The truth is that while I tended towards Edward Seaga and a JLP government as a little girl because I loved their symbol of the bell, Michael Manley and the PNP seemed to have won my sympathies, if not my silent following.

Maybe it was the introduction of free education up to the tertiary level under his regime that offered my father a university education and me a chance for a better life due to the fact that my university educated father was more keen on what constituted good parenting practices and investing in my own education as a blueprint for a successful future.

Maybe it was legalisation and de-bastardization of children, like my father who were born out of wedlock to a respectable principal and one of his many unfortunate concubines, my dear grandmother who struggled with so many issues of insecurity that she fell for the wiles of the wandering educator.

Maybe it was the fact that I knew the man personally, and hold his memory in reverence to this day.

Regardless of how or why, I have to say change, though necessary, is not always for immediate gratification but since all things work ultimately for good, whatever happens in the polls by this time tomorrow morning when all the votes are tallied, we will be better off in the long run.

Ode to Brian Charles Lara

It was in art class in third form at Campion College that the name Brian Charles Lara first had any significance to me or to the members of Mr. Young's portraiture class. While we slowly sketched with our pencils, our ears and heads perched out the window to listen to the ball-by-ball commentary from Fudgie's tinny sounding radio.

The boys and the odd tomboy crew(of which I was the sole member at times) in the courtyard, neglected the usual break time scrimmage game, as the dirty yellow tennis ball sat motionless in the middle of the gathering. Bigger things were happening elsewhere.

Even Fudgie himself abandoned his pastime of cleaning his toenails with the same knife with which he cut us bun and cheese. Everything was quiet. No one spoke. No one dared to rustle the universe, lest we disrupt history in the making.

While we held our breaths, scared to breathe too loudly, our individual hearts betrayed us and pounded. They seemed to mimic the Lara's sweet operatic aria of leather against willow. It was soft at first, but then as our anticipation grew, the beats got deeper and louder and soon our nubile West Indian hearts played a wild rhythm, ushering a unified kindred spirit to witness what lay ahead. And then the din rose, the clambering cymbals, the steel pan and congo drums, the maracas rising to a climax we were not sure we could handle. And then it came, the jubilant crescendo greater than any little death- "Brian Lara bruk the record!!!"

It was no surprise that I would 10 years later- having graduated both high school and university thus finally earning my right to unfettered travel- as the kindred spirit would have it, be there to witness history the second time around. After 10 years of an unbroken record, a feisty Lara, upset with the audacity of his challenger, batted all of us spectators at the Antigua Recreation Ground into a dancing and screaming frenzy in his retort. It seemed like he was saying "stay bruk!" in his Trini lilt. Again, it was pandemonium. Again, it was Lara, working his magic.

Today you said goodbye but I will hold on to the positives. Thank you Brian Charles Lara for synchronizing the beat of my heart with this beautiful game of cricket.

"Walk good my friend," and as the Jamaican saying continues as a blessing to those departing, "may good duppy follow you."






...
(c) Sheer Almshouse , April 21, 2007.