Trees that Talk
Right now my mother yells my name from another room in the house. She always does this and I attribute it to her country ubringing, but then again, I do this as well. The point is, I usually get annoyed at this as daughter's, impatient with thier mother's fallibilities, are wont to do. However, I'm not going allow myself to do this, although she just interrupted me again, asking me, "What did Mummy Hildred say?" alluding to the telephone call to Trinidad we, the family, is in the midst of. Right now, for the first time in God knows how long, we, the family are actually together under one roof and speaking to my Grandmother in Trinidad. We: Shelley, Gerry, Mom, Gerry's daughter Geriah (what a beautiful and bright young lady!) and my son Kai. Mom made saltfish and bake, the sun is shining after a rainy evening and this morning, I was able to hear the trees talk as I lay on my bed. Their language is universal: it is the same in Trinidad, in Tobago, in Maui, on the West Coast, in the Danish countryside, down south, by the shores of the Great Lakes--no matter where you may find yourself the trees talk telling us of the presence of other entities other than ourselves. It's a great reminder and makes me think of this line:
When black
girls crumble
We come back
like a storm
We listen...
to the heart
beat of trees
(I ain't
lying)
Started watching Spike Lee's When the Levees Broke. I recommend it.
When I left for Copenhagen, 8 years ago, I had to make the unfortunate decision to leave my books behind. It was a combination of my hearing a tale of Langston Hughes on a boat, dumping his books overboard (do I imagine this story?) and remembering how I felt it necessary to sometimes challenge this connection, this bond I sometimes feel to things. So, I gave my sister many of my books, and I often am fascinated by the titles I had collected over the years: Chinese Literature titles, Black literature, Caribbean titles, history...I miss my books but in the end I'm really trying to adhere to the belief that a book that sits on a shelf or lays neglected on a table is a dead book. Books come alive when we read them so I've set a rather ridiculous task for myself: only accumulate titles which I have read. Oh, I'm failing that one fast.
This morning Kai asked me, "Mommy, who did you want to see the most? Aunty Marie, Grandma Beryl, Aunty Shelley..."
"I wanted to see all of them."
"Me too." Was his reply.
I've been thinking about the previous entries and my observations on New York. The trend in New York of the Rich moving in and the poor being forced out is not an isolated one. Denmark is like the 3rd most expensive country to live in. You can not own an apartment in Copenhagen unless your parents buy you one (so that means they must be rich) or you were lucky and had one in your family's possession before all the beautiful people, or bought one before this period as well. Also, Denmark has a social welfare system which although not perfect and not fool-proof, safeguards the instance of those who live in "true" or at least "visible" poverty. My comments regarding the poor in New York is due to these observations and wondering how come the U.S. can manage to police the world and yet can not take care of its own? It is not a new lament and I understand that another reason one can not compare Denmark with the U.S. or New York for that matter is that Denmark, for better or for worse, has homogeneity on its side.
As a descendent of Afro-Caribbean parents, I have always seen the connections between the South and the Caribbean. My parents always used to say that when they met Black southerners (which made up the bulk of the African Americans we were in contact with) they always felt they had a lot of common. What concerns me and what has always concerned me, despite my so-called social mobility is the state of the poor and all those who have no access. It is something that eludes me and I am trying my best to understand how best to educate myself about this and of course, to do something about it.
On that note, I found a beautiful copy of The Communist Manifesto, which I am in the process of rereading now. It blows my mind every time.
What I find interesting is the presence of black codes where many times there are no Black people: On MTV there's this show on ranking! You got all types of folk talking about Yo Mamma this, Yo mamma that...,
The other day I was like, "You remember when So and so used to wear his pants like that?" I was referring to back in the 80s when someone we knew just came back from jail and used to walk around with his pants halfway down his ass. Why? Cuz they ain't no belts in jail, right? So why are there white boys in suburbia doing the same thing? I'm not dissing, I'm just saying, black codes...black codes, commodification...and so I ask my girl the other day, I say, "Debbie, can you imagine a white world of black codes and no black people?" Can you imagine...
I'll be hopefully, meeting my god son this weekend, Devon. I haven't seen Devon in years. He is Willie Mae's grandson and he is in New York now so I am very much looking forward to seeing him. We'll be driving back to New York later today and word has it that Uncle Gerry will be taking "Killa Kai" to the barbershop. Will fill you in on details...
And then on another note: Shopping! I've forgotten about the emotional ups and downs you can go through standing in a store surrounded by shining, spanking new, really inexpensive things. "Wow, this is nice and it is so cheap! I'll take ten of those, but wait! What am I saying? I can't afford this, I probably don't even need this, but it is so cheap I'll be an idiot not to buy buy buy this!" So, going against my self-imposed financial limits, I have managed to accumulate new goods. And Kai? He is learning fast.
Love,
the lab
When black
girls crumble
We come back
like a storm
We listen...
to the heart
beat of trees
(I ain't
lying)
Started watching Spike Lee's When the Levees Broke. I recommend it.
When I left for Copenhagen, 8 years ago, I had to make the unfortunate decision to leave my books behind. It was a combination of my hearing a tale of Langston Hughes on a boat, dumping his books overboard (do I imagine this story?) and remembering how I felt it necessary to sometimes challenge this connection, this bond I sometimes feel to things. So, I gave my sister many of my books, and I often am fascinated by the titles I had collected over the years: Chinese Literature titles, Black literature, Caribbean titles, history...I miss my books but in the end I'm really trying to adhere to the belief that a book that sits on a shelf or lays neglected on a table is a dead book. Books come alive when we read them so I've set a rather ridiculous task for myself: only accumulate titles which I have read. Oh, I'm failing that one fast.
This morning Kai asked me, "Mommy, who did you want to see the most? Aunty Marie, Grandma Beryl, Aunty Shelley..."
"I wanted to see all of them."
"Me too." Was his reply.
I've been thinking about the previous entries and my observations on New York. The trend in New York of the Rich moving in and the poor being forced out is not an isolated one. Denmark is like the 3rd most expensive country to live in. You can not own an apartment in Copenhagen unless your parents buy you one (so that means they must be rich) or you were lucky and had one in your family's possession before all the beautiful people, or bought one before this period as well. Also, Denmark has a social welfare system which although not perfect and not fool-proof, safeguards the instance of those who live in "true" or at least "visible" poverty. My comments regarding the poor in New York is due to these observations and wondering how come the U.S. can manage to police the world and yet can not take care of its own? It is not a new lament and I understand that another reason one can not compare Denmark with the U.S. or New York for that matter is that Denmark, for better or for worse, has homogeneity on its side.
As a descendent of Afro-Caribbean parents, I have always seen the connections between the South and the Caribbean. My parents always used to say that when they met Black southerners (which made up the bulk of the African Americans we were in contact with) they always felt they had a lot of common. What concerns me and what has always concerned me, despite my so-called social mobility is the state of the poor and all those who have no access. It is something that eludes me and I am trying my best to understand how best to educate myself about this and of course, to do something about it.
On that note, I found a beautiful copy of The Communist Manifesto, which I am in the process of rereading now. It blows my mind every time.
What I find interesting is the presence of black codes where many times there are no Black people: On MTV there's this show on ranking! You got all types of folk talking about Yo Mamma this, Yo mamma that...,
The other day I was like, "You remember when So and so used to wear his pants like that?" I was referring to back in the 80s when someone we knew just came back from jail and used to walk around with his pants halfway down his ass. Why? Cuz they ain't no belts in jail, right? So why are there white boys in suburbia doing the same thing? I'm not dissing, I'm just saying, black codes...black codes, commodification...and so I ask my girl the other day, I say, "Debbie, can you imagine a white world of black codes and no black people?" Can you imagine...
I'll be hopefully, meeting my god son this weekend, Devon. I haven't seen Devon in years. He is Willie Mae's grandson and he is in New York now so I am very much looking forward to seeing him. We'll be driving back to New York later today and word has it that Uncle Gerry will be taking "Killa Kai" to the barbershop. Will fill you in on details...
And then on another note: Shopping! I've forgotten about the emotional ups and downs you can go through standing in a store surrounded by shining, spanking new, really inexpensive things. "Wow, this is nice and it is so cheap! I'll take ten of those, but wait! What am I saying? I can't afford this, I probably don't even need this, but it is so cheap I'll be an idiot not to buy buy buy this!" So, going against my self-imposed financial limits, I have managed to accumulate new goods. And Kai? He is learning fast.
Love,
the lab
