February 13, 2010
Dear Boys,
I want you to see what I see, the beauty in life and the realities. The challenges and lessons you will experience and encounter because of who you are. You have the knowledge you need in order to equip yourself with crucial information that will protect your identity, and arm your heart and brain. Knowledge is important and information will help you to direct what path you should take. Always go with your first instinct because it is usually the correct one. You will come across some people who will not always be kind but you will have to know how to take the good, and sift out the bad. You will have to look within yourself for your confidence and strength. Know that your forefathers were great kings and came from royalty, and that you have a rich and vibrant history. Thinking, writing, and math count. Do not let anybody tell you otherwise! Remember you do have skills and abilities and you can become whatever you want. Be respectful but question injustices and speak against wrong-doings. Protect the environment and never hurt any creatures intentionally. Love life, and enjoy the company of close friends and family. Be independent and learn to provide for yourself. Cooking does matter. Try not to eat too much junk food and eat food that will nourish and allow your body to grow. Remember your body is a special temple and you must take care of it. Exercising is imperative to maintaining a healthy heart and mind. Surround your heart with happy thoughts and positive people. Happiness and romance is important to living longer. Utilize the Internet system to assist you with your courses and your assignments but do not become so attached to the Internet that it controls everything around you. Do not take shortcuts in life because it only leads to negative results, the journey taken slowly will have lasting effects. Jail is not a pretty place to rest your head so think before you do and use your human resources around you to help you make sound decisions. Money is not everything in life but a happy heart is.
Realize that sometimes there will be hardships and difficulties but know that you can overcome them. Believe in a better world, a higher calling and know that someone is watching over you. Laugh, cry, but laugh more and take every day as it comes. Be neat, organized, and clean and never settle for mediocrity but rather strive for excellence. Ask and ask more questions and probe deeper to uncertainties and issues.
Spread your wings and explore your talents and gifts. Remember you come from excellence and greatness. This is what I want for you. To love and share the truth with those around you and to give back to those who assisted you. No matter where I go my spirit will always live on.
You are my pride and joy.
Love Mom
Sunday, March 28, 2010
LEGATO
Responding to the smooth rhythms
I arch my arms
building the pride of my ancestry.
The movement of my fingers
speaks to my emotions.
The circling of my head
indicates the wealth of my history.
The movement of my hips
describes who I am.
The length of my legs
embraces my passion.
The strength of my feet
expresses the power of my core.
The shape of my lips
pulls my heart and make connections.
The flickering of my eyes
alerts me to the cause.
The form of my body
builds strength to be free.
I arch my arms
building the pride of my ancestry.
The movement of my fingers
speaks to my emotions.
The circling of my head
indicates the wealth of my history.
The movement of my hips
describes who I am.
The length of my legs
embraces my passion.
The strength of my feet
expresses the power of my core.
The shape of my lips
pulls my heart and make connections.
The flickering of my eyes
alerts me to the cause.
The form of my body
builds strength to be free.
A Stranger in My Own Land
What you know, I do not know.
You analyze and decode information while I struggle to find meaning.
How can we be so far apart and still in the same education system of learning?
I say I did not learn it! But
You say I did! You say you taught me but you didn’t
I say, again, I really did not learn it!
You look at me and see what you want to see.
I want you to see me instead.
You shrug your shoulders and scratch your head.
And still I tell you; I do not see the connections.
And you look at me trying to figure out what went wrong.
Rather than show me, you do it for me.
Don’t rescue me. Teach me so I can rescue myself.
I am afraid of being ridiculed.
But I’m not afraid of trying again.
I am a stranger in my own land.
Teachers do not understand how I learn, how I retain and make sense of information.
Our experiences are to be valued.
They are our partners in education.
I wonder if education was meant to be!
Did those who wrote the books really see me? Really understand me?
How can we ensure that all students learn, understand and are able to know that a verb, noun, adjective, adverb, and all those other dangling particles are important to your language!
Your speech! Your identity! Yes, how to write and what you say are viewed later in society.
If you really do not know what you are doing, how can you make changes?
I see this everyday.
The struggles that some have with writing, reading and math while others move smoothly across the page producing something beautiful.
Or have they too struggled through the system that doesn’t recognize them?
Identity!
There it is again.
Does it really matter?
Does it count for anything?
Does it affect my ability to process information?
Can we move past this and begin to build on what was never learned, taught, or valued?
Can I know what you know?
See my face and understand my struggles. See my face and know that the battle is every day.
We don’t see things the same
I am your child.
I am ready to learn.
Will you teach me?
You analyze and decode information while I struggle to find meaning.
How can we be so far apart and still in the same education system of learning?
I say I did not learn it! But
You say I did! You say you taught me but you didn’t
I say, again, I really did not learn it!
You look at me and see what you want to see.
I want you to see me instead.
You shrug your shoulders and scratch your head.
And still I tell you; I do not see the connections.
And you look at me trying to figure out what went wrong.
Rather than show me, you do it for me.
Don’t rescue me. Teach me so I can rescue myself.
I am afraid of being ridiculed.
But I’m not afraid of trying again.
I am a stranger in my own land.
Teachers do not understand how I learn, how I retain and make sense of information.
Our experiences are to be valued.
They are our partners in education.
I wonder if education was meant to be!
Did those who wrote the books really see me? Really understand me?
How can we ensure that all students learn, understand and are able to know that a verb, noun, adjective, adverb, and all those other dangling particles are important to your language!
Your speech! Your identity! Yes, how to write and what you say are viewed later in society.
If you really do not know what you are doing, how can you make changes?
I see this everyday.
The struggles that some have with writing, reading and math while others move smoothly across the page producing something beautiful.
Or have they too struggled through the system that doesn’t recognize them?
Identity!
There it is again.
Does it really matter?
Does it count for anything?
Does it affect my ability to process information?
Can we move past this and begin to build on what was never learned, taught, or valued?
Can I know what you know?
See my face and understand my struggles. See my face and know that the battle is every day.
We don’t see things the same
I am your child.
I am ready to learn.
Will you teach me?
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
PRESTON
PRESTON
From Preston North
Rugged, stony, grassyland, and paved roads.
Local community centres, to small and huge homes,
Unique structures, dilapidated buildings, churches and schools.
Hustle and bustle of the strain of life
Lakes and ponds and the fishing rods
Fancy cars, trucks, and brimmed hats
Laughter, dancing, singing and welcoming a new baby
Union and celebration of summer weddings.
A community of stories, tales and history
Hardships, survival, direction and support
Ancestors, grandparents, war heroes, and heroines
Inviting others for the Sunday dinner
A meal with all the trimmings; chicken, rice and peas, sweet potatoes and apple pies.
Leaders who have made decisions and acted on behalf of the community
Kitchen table conversations to major debates
Pastors, and elders who have created a consciousness
Fought and struggled, against social injustices.
From Right and Wrong
Failures and Successes
Beginnings and Ends
Disappointment, Silence, Despair, and Hope
Preston North
Daughter
Son
Sister , Brother, Mother, Father
Friend
Survivors
From Preston North
Rugged, stony, grassyland, and paved roads.
Local community centres, to small and huge homes,
Unique structures, dilapidated buildings, churches and schools.
Hustle and bustle of the strain of life
Lakes and ponds and the fishing rods
Fancy cars, trucks, and brimmed hats
Laughter, dancing, singing and welcoming a new baby
Union and celebration of summer weddings.
A community of stories, tales and history
Hardships, survival, direction and support
Ancestors, grandparents, war heroes, and heroines
Inviting others for the Sunday dinner
A meal with all the trimmings; chicken, rice and peas, sweet potatoes and apple pies.
Leaders who have made decisions and acted on behalf of the community
Kitchen table conversations to major debates
Pastors, and elders who have created a consciousness
Fought and struggled, against social injustices.
From Right and Wrong
Failures and Successes
Beginnings and Ends
Disappointment, Silence, Despair, and Hope
Preston North
Daughter
Son
Sister , Brother, Mother, Father
Friend
Survivors
"N" word debate
Niggah, Nigga, and the “N” Word
The “N” word conjures up so much the past and what it means to be Black or of African Descent . But is this word now receiving attention that it should not? Given its history, can this word ever mean anything positive? The word is slowly creeping into the vocabulary of young people. Did our ancestors really fight for the abolition of this word, only to have it return as the flavour of the month? What effect will this have on our youth?
The debate over this word has two sides. On the one hand there are those who remember how people of African descent fought for dignity, equality, and civil rights. On the other are those who now embrace the word as part of their hip hop and rap culture; the “N” word has become part of their vernacular.
It was a word with negative connotations, used in the era of slavery to dominate the powerless. It was used to oppress, and to subject pain and humility on those with little cultural or economic influence. For those who endured slavery, the word represented pain, cultural genocide, and a horrific time in our history. The “N” embodies a time that included getting Blacks out of the neighborhood, and out of the schools. It regulated a hate, which was meant to terrorize people of African Descent and dehumanize the Black community treating them in a way that was less than human. Leaders in our community have had issues with naming them, using words that are purposefully malicious and demeaning, words that are not wholesome and do not elevate a race to its rightful level. The “N” word was once used to endorse killing, maming, obedience and to show a form of service to the Master making it clear where you stood.
Currently, hip hop and rap artists are creating a new form of language among our youth. Some claim the “N” word is a way to communicate. It is seen as a way of letting go of the past and moving forward to something fresh and new, a way to claim the word and use it to rewrite history. The “N” word is also referred to as a term of endearment, and represents youth’s rights to exercise their freedom of speech. Most rap artists see the word as a part of their vocabulary, a code of communication and a part of their mannerisms. Latino hip hop artists such as Immortal Technique state the “N” word is a way to show how they have been oppressed and are also part of the transatlantic slave trade (hiphopnews.yuku.com). Tupac Shakur referred to Nigga as “Never Ignorant Getting Goals Accomplished.” Other hip hop artists cannot understand the discontent over the word, especially when there are bigger issues of racism to address. Some question why people are upset with the word when the underlying message is referring to a ‘black man’ (www.thuglifearmy.com). Some hip hop artists state that there are more negative connotations with the words Black than “N” word. The overall goal for society is to have an open mind and stop fearing the “N” word; instead we need to deal with it. As people of African Descent we have gone from Negro to Coloured to Black to African American/Canadian to Nigga. The argument goes like this: what is the hype about when people of African Descent have been given so many names?
I had the wonderful privilege to hear Minnijean Brown, one of the children of Little Rock, Arkansas, speak about the “N” word and what it meant. She questioned why youth today would want to be called “N” when she remembers being called this word over and over as a young child. It was referred to those who did not belong, who were less important, had no rights, and were not part of this society. She stated that she has heard the word being used as a greeting between people of the same race (African race) when they have not seen each other. Girls refer to their men as their “N”. Some justify the new forms “Nigglets, Niggah, Nigga, as a way of understanding the rap culture. But this word is not the same as calling someone a redhead. Remember Eeny-meeny-miney-mo, Catch a ni ----- by the toe, if he hollers, let him go, eeny-meeny-miney-mo? What does it mean to revert to the “N” word? Minnijean could not fathom why someone would want to be referred to in this manner rather than their own name.
The “N” word is a large piece of our history that cannot be reversed; we cannot change history. The painful thoughts that the “N” words symbolize cannot be erased. By acknowledging and accepting the “N” word we are turning our backs on the cultural and historical baggage the word carries.
There are some people who are on the fence and cannot decide if they are for saying the word or not. It seems to me that the “N” word relates to the old slave mentality and selling out. It is a word for a sale’s pitch and for grossing income. To me it still is derogatory, ignorant, and a word that does not have any place in our society. Racism must be recognized everyday and so must its practices. Accepting negative descriptions and categories destroys one’s culture and continues to keep one race superior and the other inferior. Everything is connected and we must remember what the “N” word meant.
The question still remains: do artists have the right to use this word? Does society have the right to be upset about a word that, for some people, means something completely different today? Do individuals of African Descent have the right to use this word with members of the same race but react harshly when someone from outside their race says the word? The “N” word – where do you stand?
The “N” word conjures up so much the past and what it means to be Black or of African Descent . But is this word now receiving attention that it should not? Given its history, can this word ever mean anything positive? The word is slowly creeping into the vocabulary of young people. Did our ancestors really fight for the abolition of this word, only to have it return as the flavour of the month? What effect will this have on our youth?
The debate over this word has two sides. On the one hand there are those who remember how people of African descent fought for dignity, equality, and civil rights. On the other are those who now embrace the word as part of their hip hop and rap culture; the “N” word has become part of their vernacular.
It was a word with negative connotations, used in the era of slavery to dominate the powerless. It was used to oppress, and to subject pain and humility on those with little cultural or economic influence. For those who endured slavery, the word represented pain, cultural genocide, and a horrific time in our history. The “N” embodies a time that included getting Blacks out of the neighborhood, and out of the schools. It regulated a hate, which was meant to terrorize people of African Descent and dehumanize the Black community treating them in a way that was less than human. Leaders in our community have had issues with naming them, using words that are purposefully malicious and demeaning, words that are not wholesome and do not elevate a race to its rightful level. The “N” word was once used to endorse killing, maming, obedience and to show a form of service to the Master making it clear where you stood.
Currently, hip hop and rap artists are creating a new form of language among our youth. Some claim the “N” word is a way to communicate. It is seen as a way of letting go of the past and moving forward to something fresh and new, a way to claim the word and use it to rewrite history. The “N” word is also referred to as a term of endearment, and represents youth’s rights to exercise their freedom of speech. Most rap artists see the word as a part of their vocabulary, a code of communication and a part of their mannerisms. Latino hip hop artists such as Immortal Technique state the “N” word is a way to show how they have been oppressed and are also part of the transatlantic slave trade (hiphopnews.yuku.com). Tupac Shakur referred to Nigga as “Never Ignorant Getting Goals Accomplished.” Other hip hop artists cannot understand the discontent over the word, especially when there are bigger issues of racism to address. Some question why people are upset with the word when the underlying message is referring to a ‘black man’ (www.thuglifearmy.com). Some hip hop artists state that there are more negative connotations with the words Black than “N” word. The overall goal for society is to have an open mind and stop fearing the “N” word; instead we need to deal with it. As people of African Descent we have gone from Negro to Coloured to Black to African American/Canadian to Nigga. The argument goes like this: what is the hype about when people of African Descent have been given so many names?
I had the wonderful privilege to hear Minnijean Brown, one of the children of Little Rock, Arkansas, speak about the “N” word and what it meant. She questioned why youth today would want to be called “N” when she remembers being called this word over and over as a young child. It was referred to those who did not belong, who were less important, had no rights, and were not part of this society. She stated that she has heard the word being used as a greeting between people of the same race (African race) when they have not seen each other. Girls refer to their men as their “N”. Some justify the new forms “Nigglets, Niggah, Nigga, as a way of understanding the rap culture. But this word is not the same as calling someone a redhead. Remember Eeny-meeny-miney-mo, Catch a ni ----- by the toe, if he hollers, let him go, eeny-meeny-miney-mo? What does it mean to revert to the “N” word? Minnijean could not fathom why someone would want to be referred to in this manner rather than their own name.
The “N” word is a large piece of our history that cannot be reversed; we cannot change history. The painful thoughts that the “N” words symbolize cannot be erased. By acknowledging and accepting the “N” word we are turning our backs on the cultural and historical baggage the word carries.
There are some people who are on the fence and cannot decide if they are for saying the word or not. It seems to me that the “N” word relates to the old slave mentality and selling out. It is a word for a sale’s pitch and for grossing income. To me it still is derogatory, ignorant, and a word that does not have any place in our society. Racism must be recognized everyday and so must its practices. Accepting negative descriptions and categories destroys one’s culture and continues to keep one race superior and the other inferior. Everything is connected and we must remember what the “N” word meant.
The question still remains: do artists have the right to use this word? Does society have the right to be upset about a word that, for some people, means something completely different today? Do individuals of African Descent have the right to use this word with members of the same race but react harshly when someone from outside their race says the word? The “N” word – where do you stand?
Sunday, February 21, 2010
A Life Interrupted!
Why was she losing weight? Why was she fading from us? We thought: maybe she just wants to slim down like most girls who feel they are too big. She was not a big person. She was always quite fit and exercised regularly. She was the five-year badminton champion and a member of the national team. Here was a girl who was very vibrant, full of life, and involved in community. She found new ways of providing tutoring to those who were struggling in Math while assisting with the local youth group at the Church. The pain ravaged her body and played on her mind.
The weight continued to fall off. She began to experience pain and cramps that pierced her body. We could hear her moaning and sobbing quietly in the night. These times were her worst. The pain invaded her step as well as her mannerisms. There were times when she sat, legs crossed, rubbing her belly, clothed in several layers just to keep warm. Her weakness made it difficult to digest most foods. After vomiting or feeling unable to swallow, she would lie next to our mother and have her rub her back and stomach. Our mother became a human blanket of comfort for her. She rarely ate heavy food, and her plate contained smaller and smaller portions. Doctors weaned her off beef, red meats, and milk products. Her bones began to protrude and her face became quite lean. Sadness and despair made her question the doctors and their inability to give a diagnosis.
It was hard to watch her wither away as her body fell into itself and she became unrecognizable. We did not know what to do. She was drained of energy, and found it difficult to complete simple activities. She attended classes in spite of the agony. The days and nights became one. Travelling to university and back was hard and with little energy, the time in classes was an eternity, and she struggled to maintain the pace. Her illness took a toll on the whole family. We felt hopeless and scared, and became upset with the doctors and their lack of information. Many nights we cried. Silently we prayed for someone to help her. We could see the stress on our parents’ faces that had grown old under the strain. We feared we would lose our sister.
Finally, the day came when the sobbing became louder and pain unbearable. She had difficulty walking. We did not know what to do. We felt the doctors were powerless to help. The emergency room was our only hope. Our patience was thin; as we waited for the results. Time stretched out in front of us as our sister slowly vanished. A healthy young girl at the age of 25, who once weighed 105, was now down to 75 pounds and slipping away.
The time came when we could not wait for the doctor. We called our brother-in-law and sister to assist us with carrying her fragile body into the car and they immediately took her to the hospital. Although the doctors in emergency had sent her home before, she still found the emergency room to be a place of comfort. This time they admitted her. After several operations, she was diagnosed with Crohn’s Disease, an inflammatory bowel disease of the intestines. Our sister finally had her diagnosis, but by this time, the disease was killing her spirit. Her recovery was long. She was placed in semi-isolation. One of her legs is swollen twice it’s size under with blood clots.
Something was terribly wrong. She was placed on Warfarin, an anticoagulant, to help thin her blood, but it had side effects. After she was taken out of isolation and the clots were under control, my sister’s second home became the hospital ward 9b. She was there for three months. If not for the Dartmouth surgeon who performed a partial ileostomy, my sister might not be where she is today. Now, my sister is drug free and lives a healthy life.
Before she left the hospital, she made a plaque for the nurses with all their names on it. The plaque still hangs in 9b and is a testament to the care she received.
The weight continued to fall off. She began to experience pain and cramps that pierced her body. We could hear her moaning and sobbing quietly in the night. These times were her worst. The pain invaded her step as well as her mannerisms. There were times when she sat, legs crossed, rubbing her belly, clothed in several layers just to keep warm. Her weakness made it difficult to digest most foods. After vomiting or feeling unable to swallow, she would lie next to our mother and have her rub her back and stomach. Our mother became a human blanket of comfort for her. She rarely ate heavy food, and her plate contained smaller and smaller portions. Doctors weaned her off beef, red meats, and milk products. Her bones began to protrude and her face became quite lean. Sadness and despair made her question the doctors and their inability to give a diagnosis.
It was hard to watch her wither away as her body fell into itself and she became unrecognizable. We did not know what to do. She was drained of energy, and found it difficult to complete simple activities. She attended classes in spite of the agony. The days and nights became one. Travelling to university and back was hard and with little energy, the time in classes was an eternity, and she struggled to maintain the pace. Her illness took a toll on the whole family. We felt hopeless and scared, and became upset with the doctors and their lack of information. Many nights we cried. Silently we prayed for someone to help her. We could see the stress on our parents’ faces that had grown old under the strain. We feared we would lose our sister.
Finally, the day came when the sobbing became louder and pain unbearable. She had difficulty walking. We did not know what to do. We felt the doctors were powerless to help. The emergency room was our only hope. Our patience was thin; as we waited for the results. Time stretched out in front of us as our sister slowly vanished. A healthy young girl at the age of 25, who once weighed 105, was now down to 75 pounds and slipping away.
The time came when we could not wait for the doctor. We called our brother-in-law and sister to assist us with carrying her fragile body into the car and they immediately took her to the hospital. Although the doctors in emergency had sent her home before, she still found the emergency room to be a place of comfort. This time they admitted her. After several operations, she was diagnosed with Crohn’s Disease, an inflammatory bowel disease of the intestines. Our sister finally had her diagnosis, but by this time, the disease was killing her spirit. Her recovery was long. She was placed in semi-isolation. One of her legs is swollen twice it’s size under with blood clots.
Something was terribly wrong. She was placed on Warfarin, an anticoagulant, to help thin her blood, but it had side effects. After she was taken out of isolation and the clots were under control, my sister’s second home became the hospital ward 9b. She was there for three months. If not for the Dartmouth surgeon who performed a partial ileostomy, my sister might not be where she is today. Now, my sister is drug free and lives a healthy life.
Before she left the hospital, she made a plaque for the nurses with all their names on it. The plaque still hangs in 9b and is a testament to the care she received.
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