The day the music died

For a long time after Luther Vandross died I couldn't listen to his music with feeling a great sense of loss. I wonder how long it will take for me to get over Michael Jackson's death.Last week i was blasting the History cd in my car cd player and now he will live on through his music.
If the suspected circumstances behind his death are true it is a sad indictment on the people around him who knew about his abuse of prescription drugs and did nothing.
Michael was very talented and very successful and in this scenario sometimes employees, family members and lackeys do not want to kill the goose that laid the golden egg by pointing out faults.
It was strange seeing all the tributes being paid to him when two years ago those same people were crucifying him in the court of public opinion.

Mount Everest

Think about the hardest thing you have ever done.What is the most difficult task you have ever completed? None of them can compare to being a single parent. It is the most difficult thing anyone can ever imagine. I did not intend to be a single parent but sometimes relationships do not work. if being a single parent is not enough think about being a single parent to a child whose father lives in another country.
Today was one of those days when I thought I would go crazy. A crying screaming toddler who refused to take a nap while demanding everything under the sun.

Single parenting, I do not recommend that you take it on unless there is great support from family or friends.

Babies like cricket too

This is a short story I wrote for my summer school course.

Babies like Cricket too.

To say I was apprehensive would be an understatement. As I looked at the stick I held in my hand, I was gripped by an intense fear. This innocuous, white plastic stick, with the huge plus sign in the center, was the reason for my trepidation. I was afraid of what it represented, known and unknown. I had been down this path before three years ago and I had suffered daily until it finally ended, painfully. As I dialled my Obstetrician’s office number, I took a deep breath to relieve the anxiety that was threatening, once again, to overwhelm me. Two weeks later, I left his office, still concerned, but also with a sense that, maybe this time, my baby and I could survive another difficult pregnancy. During the next eight months there would be many instances where my physical and mental stamina would be sorely tested.

Two weeks later the nightmare I was dreading finally began. As I hugged the cold porcelain for the third time that morning I asked myself, how could I survive another eight months of all day nausea and vomiting? More important, how would I stave off the urge to throw up while stuck in traffic as I drove to work? Hydration was necessary in keeping the nausea at bay; therefore a bottle of water or juice became my passenger on the drive to work every day. If that was unsuccessful, a box of tissues and a plastic bag would suffice. These passengers and I would take this difficult journey together every day.

Even worse than having nausea as a constant companion throughout my pregnancy was being told that I needed to have surgery. Even though I knew the surgery was necessary, I wondered why I could not have the easy pregnancy so many women brag about. After spending most of the day without food or water while waiting for my surgery; I awoke and immediately started spewing a vile, green liquid, all over the hospital room. There seemed to be no end in sight, as I filled bowl after bowl held by the concerned nurse. My doctor’s voice saying I would not be allowed to leave, unless the vomiting stopped, was like a shut off valve in my stomach. That night at home, my bed was an oasis from the post surgery pain as the anaesthetic wore off.

Unfortunately, pain would become another passenger on my nine month journey. My child was determined to make an appearance long before her scheduled date. Her efforts to escape the confines of my body caused me several instances of extreme agony. An incident three years prior, taught me this ache was not to be ignored. Sunday afternoons are usually spent eating lunch with family and friends, relaxing at the beach or napping. My afternoon was spent being examined and injected by doctors at the hospital. Dread can only begin to describe what I felt as the doctor confirmed I was once again having preterm contractions. At home, my bed once again became a refuge, as the drugs worked to calm my restless child.

I became very aware of what of every ache meant and because of my prior experience I called my doctor whenever I was afraid, which was often. As a result I spent a Saturday night in the hospital, again for preterm contractions. Maybe my child wanted to come out and party for World cup, but she was banned from partying until her due date. Once again another injection to prevent her leaving home was administered and I spent a comfortable night asleep in my hospital bed. Coming home the next day, I knew my body could not tolerate much more. All over the Caribbean, countries were preparing to welcome World Cup cricket teams and visitors. It was time to start preparations for my child’s imminent arrival.

Everyone says children come when they are ready and my daughter truly followed that old adage. Three weeks before her due date and one day before my doctor told me to come to the hospital my daughter started her final assault on my body. At two o’ clock in the morning, once again contractions began. I knew because she was so close to her due date, this would be my final night alone. I woke up the household, called my doctor and we made our way to the hospital. On arrival, the nurse confirmed I was in labour and called my doctor, who advised her to once again dispense drugs to stop my contractions. There was one last step of minor surgery, to be performed the next day, before my child would be allowed to exit.

Physical pain which had been a constant companion throughout this pregnancy was once again with me as my doctor declared it necessary to perform the procedure without any anaesthetic. I have always wondered if the students next door at The St. Michael School heard me as I screamed even louder than when I gave birth a few hours later. Afterwards I was again given drugs, this time to ease the pain, not stop, my contractions. I do not remember much about my labour because the medicine made me sleep. However, with her birth, everything became clear and with that came exhilaration because we had survived.

I have no tolerance for pain. The slightest headache sends me running for the painkillers. However, being pregnant and giving birth made me realize that even though I am afraid of pain, I am emotionally strong. Except for a select few, not many people were aware of the difficulties I experienced throughout my pregnancy. Although it was gruelling at times, most days I carried myself as if nothing was wrong. Indeed now, when I tell this story, most people are taken aback by my experience. As I sat watching Cricket World Cup on what was her official due date, I thought maybe Kamille wanted to be on the outside, watching the debacle that was the final, snuggled in her mother’s arms.

Choices

I can not believe it has been 2 weeks since I blogged. Summer school is hectic and it's been a little difficult trying to keep up with all the reading and assignments. Plus add a toddler to the mix and anyone can understand my dilemma.

I passed all my courses from last semester,YEAH. it was rough but I am so grateful to GOD for pulling me through. I am actually looking forward to next semester...hope I am not disappointed.

On my favourite topic, Guyanese newspapers continue to bash Barbados and Barbadians for protecting our rights. I wonder why they do not press their government to provide an environment which encourages the citizens to want to stay and work in their country. For over 30 years guyanese having been running from their country but none of them seem to want to make the hard decisions that are necessary to create a better country. STOP voting race and realize that you are all Guyanese. Vote for change. Indo-Guyanese will not vote for a black President but will live illegally in another country run by black people. They then become angry when that country decides it does not want a recreation of Guyana and its problems in its country.

A wasted day..almost.

Summer school started yesterday and in usual UWI fashion our lecturer was late because he was not aware there was a class scheduled. The class was scheduled for three hours but we spent at most, one hour on campus.When he did arrive, he proceeded to give us two assignments., while explaining the course objectives. He also berated some second and third students for doing a foundation course so late in their studies.Summer school lasts six weeks so this course will be very intensive. Time to stop procrastinating.

The difference between us and them

Any one who knows me, is aware that I do not believe in regional integration. Most Caribbean nationals are not afraid to say they do not like us or our country,but that does not stop them from living here. They like the easy access to social services and it is relatively crime free. I have even heard some of our South American "brothers " and "sisters" say they like my country but they would like to get rid of its citizens. How ignorant is that statement. We pay the taxes that fund all the social services. We elected the leaders who helped to shape this great country. We also defeated them in elections when they did not do what was right. It would be better if immigrants stayed in their countries and tried to emulate us.Pay your taxes and choose a government whose priority is helping its citizens.

A constant pain

I can't wait for the renovations to be over.Today I came home to a bedroom in total disarray because of the electrician moving electrical outlets.It's been ten months and no end in sight because of incompetent people. Add a toddler to the mix and my headache is understandable.

I am going to beat you with my X

Politicians are a special breed. Sunday I went to a family gathering at my aunt's house. I had never visited her house before, long story, but that is for another time. The state of the road shocked me speechless and that isn't easy to do. The road can only be described as a cart road. Usually a cart road runs through a cane field but this one actually ran through a neighborhood. This neighborhood sits in the midst of several cane fields so maybe that would explain the unbelievably bad state of the roads.

I was glad I had left my car at home and came with my sister. After turning off the main road, when we saw the road we assumed that we had taken a wrong turn. The sight of my cousin's car coming down road assured us that we were on the right path. The road is rough, bumpy, full of holes and appears unchanged from the days of slavery. There were no signs this road had ever been paved. Relatives who drove four wheel drive vehicles had no problem navigating the road. maybe that is why the road has not been fixed, the Ministry would need four wheel drive vehicles to get there.

This area had the same parliamentary representative for over twenty years and for the last 14 years his party was the Government. I can not imagine that he ever visited that area and saw the state of the roads. One of his colleagues was the Minister responsible for roads and transport. Their constituencies bordered each other and they are both from that parish.

I wonder if any one in that particular neighborhood voted for that representative over the last twenty years. As tax payers, we need to demand more from our leaders. No more voting for the party. Responsible citizens need to examine each candidate and party on their record of service to the people before voting.

There is no way of I lived in that neighborhood that any politician would get my vote unless that road was repaired.

The return of good music

Chrisette Michelle's new cd Epiphany was number one on Billboard last week. Unlike Ciara who was all over the place, naked on the cover of Vibe magazine, allowing Justin Timberlake to smack her ass in her video and crawling on the floor on several tv shows, Chrisette did very little press to promote her new cd. Yet she had the number one cd,interesting.
For several years I have been complaining to my friends about the lack of good music on the air waves and that is why I spend so much time on the internet searching lesser known sites for information about new music. I remember reading about Chrisette Michelle and listening to songs clips on Amazon long before many of friends knew who she was.
Radio stations need to play a wider variety of music instead of all the crap that is out there.Every day, hour after hour, dj's play the same songs over and over while ignoring lesser known music.If there is an upcoming show, our ears are bombarded with the same songs over and over for at least two weeks before the event.
Chrisette Michelle's victory over Ciara is a win for all of us who can not tolerate the auto tune, pro tools nonsensecalled music that is out there.
Next up Maxwell.I can not wait.

The world and his wife

Everyone in the Caribbean thinks they have a right to live and work in Barbados. Other countries are putting illegal immigrants in jail, deporting them, refusing them entry but Barbados should welcome everyone with open arms.I have one problem with the new immigration rules.They should have said all illegal immigrants, not only Caricom nationals.There are too many Chinese, Europeans, Africans and others living and working in this country illegally.

Caribbean nationals hate Barbados and Bajans but they want to live in Barbados because it is peaceful and relatively crime free. Add to that free education and health care and we are the truly the gem of the Caribbean. Most of the illegal immigrants who live here want to create a home away from home. Guyanese are trying to create Guyana, Trinidadians are trying to create Trinidad, Jamaicans are trying to create Jamaica. No one wants to adopt Barbadian sensibilities because they hate Bajans and this is what scares me. In trying to recreate their homeland, Barbados will be subject to all the ethnic issues of Guyana and the crimes of Jamaica and Trinidad. This will lead to the disintegration of the wonderful island I call home.

Barbados is not perfect but our forefathers worked hard to create our way of life. I do not want to see it destroyed by people who care nothing for our island but only for their personal gain.