I came across a letter this morning that was written to me about seven and a half years ago. It was a personal letter, the only letter I have ever received from that particular friend. As I read it again, I was taken back to that time. I had just moved to Jamaica, gas was $24 per litre and much of whom I now am was still yet to be learned and discovered. How fitting that I should find it now, when my stay in this foreign nation is fast at its conclusion.
It was handwritten and beautiful and I couldn't stop reading it. I remembered the apartment I used to live in and the grumpy, "flatulent" landlord. I remembered the cute Indian girl next door and how the only time since then I'd seen her was at a play featuring Med Students (she should be a doctor by now!). I remembered that Micheal Jackson's "You Are My Life" was my theme song for months and how every time I hear that song I remember Trudi Wynter(ah she buss mi pon it).
I remembered how much I didn't want to be in Jamaica despite how eager I had been at the prospect of leaving home. I remembered my reason for always wanting to go home and considered how time has changed those motivations. I remembered taking the bus at 6:30 in the morning to avoid the rush hour packed buses that were all too reminiscent of slave ships and the middle passage.
I remembered how we never really went anywhere for sheer crippling fear. I remembered how afraid I was to join the choir at church and how excited I was when I did.
And the memories continued to come, all the way up to and through University. Every other time I've had to, it's been an absolute joy to abandon Jamaica for the familiar sounds, sight and feelings of home. This time, although this is not the last time I will leave Jamaica, there's a certain finality that I cannot help but feel.
I think I've finally reckoned, and rightly so, that Jamaica has made me. It's been a huge influence and will continue to be in the future. As reluctant as I am to admit it, I'm happy I was here. This place is like a fungus, it grows on you!!!
Friday, January 22, 2010
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Difficult To Complain......
I have found it incredibly difficult to complain this week; about anything. Even in my silent, solitude, while I was not quite able to grasp the true epically graphic nature of the catastrophe that Haitians have had to deal with, I imagined what I reckon was close. So I could no longer mutter to myself and the heavens how disgusted I am to still be in my current state, and geographical location for that matter.
I developed a sense of guilty empathy for some generic little boy whose mother could scarcely afford to feed them both, now sitting unharmed beside her rapidly cooling corpse. I felt his first scream resound in my ear after having recovered from the initial shock of having fallen two whole stories down, only to land unscathed amidst all the devastation around him. I saw his face that had gone from giggling to furrowed and sad in just a few brief seconds. An innocent child, unhurt but helpless, still clinging to his mother's dress and crying, unable to understand why her once bright eyes now seemed so cold and why she lay lifeless though they remained open.
I don't have much of a personal attachment to Haiti. Before Thursday I knew little about the history of the nation, apart from occasionally having heard references to L'Overture, Papa and Baby Doc and Aristide! So I decided to take a look back at the history of a people brave enough to challenge slavery and have it abolished 40 years before the rest of the Americas and to gain nationhood, long before most of our nations had even dreamed up the notion. Nothing is more evident in the account of Haitian history, masked sometimes by the ever-present corrupt government, than the pride that Haitians take in, not only, their nationhood but also the privilege it is to be Haitian
Maybe it was the stories I have read this week, maybe it's the constant news updates or the calls for donations by our telephone networks, favorite basketball players, NFL, NBA, NCAA and numerous other media affiliated entities that we are favored to enjoy. Maybe it was the insight into the resolve and pride of the Haitian people. But for some reason I found it really hard to complain that my single bed, which has become very uncomfortable, has caused me pre-mature adult back pain. In the scheme of things it seemed minute and strangely bearable; this week!!!
T.O.T.D: Always Remember That It Does Get Worse Than This.....And It Can Get Better!!!----Elias Orville Dupuis
I developed a sense of guilty empathy for some generic little boy whose mother could scarcely afford to feed them both, now sitting unharmed beside her rapidly cooling corpse. I felt his first scream resound in my ear after having recovered from the initial shock of having fallen two whole stories down, only to land unscathed amidst all the devastation around him. I saw his face that had gone from giggling to furrowed and sad in just a few brief seconds. An innocent child, unhurt but helpless, still clinging to his mother's dress and crying, unable to understand why her once bright eyes now seemed so cold and why she lay lifeless though they remained open.
I don't have much of a personal attachment to Haiti. Before Thursday I knew little about the history of the nation, apart from occasionally having heard references to L'Overture, Papa and Baby Doc and Aristide! So I decided to take a look back at the history of a people brave enough to challenge slavery and have it abolished 40 years before the rest of the Americas and to gain nationhood, long before most of our nations had even dreamed up the notion. Nothing is more evident in the account of Haitian history, masked sometimes by the ever-present corrupt government, than the pride that Haitians take in, not only, their nationhood but also the privilege it is to be Haitian
Maybe it was the stories I have read this week, maybe it's the constant news updates or the calls for donations by our telephone networks, favorite basketball players, NFL, NBA, NCAA and numerous other media affiliated entities that we are favored to enjoy. Maybe it was the insight into the resolve and pride of the Haitian people. But for some reason I found it really hard to complain that my single bed, which has become very uncomfortable, has caused me pre-mature adult back pain. In the scheme of things it seemed minute and strangely bearable; this week!!!
T.O.T.D: Always Remember That It Does Get Worse Than This.....And It Can Get Better!!!----Elias Orville Dupuis
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Quasi...
A poet adrift!
Lost without meter, form or structure,
A curse burdening his head,
A gift weighing down his heart.
Searching with intense nostalgia
His poems of yesterday,
Pictures that were at one time a mirror,
Are now but a distant memory.
A broken man,
Faking serenity, having lost touch with himself.
Intolerably, incoherently rambling,
The unintelligible scribblings of a fool.
Grasping at straws of lucidity,
Unable to stay afloat in a sea of expired ideas;
Ideas exhausted to obsolescence.
Only cryptic rhetoric crushing him on every side.
Stuck in what seems a perpetual purgatory
Not quite what he used to be
Not quite what he wants to be
Quasi-Me
---HalfCrazy
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Silence.....
Every time I get the opportunity to occupy even the smallest amount of space alone, I am reminded of my self-imposed oath that I will, one day, live alone. It's not so much that I hate being around others, as a matter of fact I love being around others, maybe a bit too much; group activities are kinda my thing. Instead it might be that I spend so much time in the company of friends that I have a deeper appreciation for the few, sparse moments of solitude I afford myself by the way I live my life.
The silence in those moments is so freeing. My mind wanders to a place where my thoughts can roam as far as the horizon and beyond. The ideas take on a life of their own and become greater than I'd ever thought they could have been. One of my favorite poets wrote, "Sometimes silence is the loudest kind of noise," and she is not mistaken. Sometimes it has the ability to deafen and drown out one's state of lucid thought. But sometimes, the stillness has a way of calming one's nerves and relaxing the spirit.
That's the way I like my Saturday and Sunday mornings. I sit in almost perfect silence only intermittently interrupted by an MSN alert or two, a passing vehicle or a neighbor's singing. Even then the calm is quickly restored.
I've always lived with people. I shared a room with my brother till he was about 8 or 9. Then again at 15 when we moved to Jamaica. For the first year and a half of college, I shared a dorm room with one of my closest friends, and for some time a Mexican exchange student. Then after moving off campus I shared a room (of sorts) with two other friends, before sharing a room with my brother again, and a house with three other friends for the next two years.
I've always been around people. That's why I wanna live alone; maybe for a year or two. It's not so much for the liberty. I've always had about as much liberty as I wanted. It's for the silence. Four walls and me just wading through bad ideas searching for pearls of wisdom in my head. I think I might just be able to write a book or two!
The silence in those moments is so freeing. My mind wanders to a place where my thoughts can roam as far as the horizon and beyond. The ideas take on a life of their own and become greater than I'd ever thought they could have been. One of my favorite poets wrote, "Sometimes silence is the loudest kind of noise," and she is not mistaken. Sometimes it has the ability to deafen and drown out one's state of lucid thought. But sometimes, the stillness has a way of calming one's nerves and relaxing the spirit.
That's the way I like my Saturday and Sunday mornings. I sit in almost perfect silence only intermittently interrupted by an MSN alert or two, a passing vehicle or a neighbor's singing. Even then the calm is quickly restored.
I've always lived with people. I shared a room with my brother till he was about 8 or 9. Then again at 15 when we moved to Jamaica. For the first year and a half of college, I shared a dorm room with one of my closest friends, and for some time a Mexican exchange student. Then after moving off campus I shared a room (of sorts) with two other friends, before sharing a room with my brother again, and a house with three other friends for the next two years.
I've always been around people. That's why I wanna live alone; maybe for a year or two. It's not so much for the liberty. I've always had about as much liberty as I wanted. It's for the silence. Four walls and me just wading through bad ideas searching for pearls of wisdom in my head. I think I might just be able to write a book or two!
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Stifling....
Mandeville stifles. Me. Every writer is dependent on the regular up-chuck of bad ideas and the cleansing effect it can have on the brain, so that the good ideas can flow, from lips or fingers.
However, I find myself blocked. Not the kinda blocked where the words don't come and even the thesaurus seems like gibberish, but the kind where emotions elude me. While ideas and thoughts run amok in my mind like men under the influence sporting jet-packs, the emotion to truly capture these ideas and record them to pad or blog seems distant and I'm not quite sure why.
I think I'm holding back because of something that I may have done or that may have been done to me but for the life of me I can't figure out which. The frustration of all of this is one that's almost unbearable. Then again, it could be the claustrophobic enclosure of mountains that cause my thoughts to not flow.
Whether you attribute it to the unpredictability of the universe, some predetermined master plan or some twisted combination of the two, life and all that it contains has ways of making us feel insignificant. We all feel enveloped by the vastness of the universe, known and unknown. To some this provides a certain certainty, that allows them to trust completely the boundaries that nature has set and the established rules we must abide by. Yet we know one certainty to be true still; rules are made to be broken or at least bent.
And so from these mountains, I have squeezed the ounce of inspiration I needed to write 'something'. Not sure how much help it will be to anyone, but I'm once again working my way out of a slump.
T.O.T.D: "If The Writer Writes For Others, He Has Lost The Purpose Of His Gift!!!"
However, I find myself blocked. Not the kinda blocked where the words don't come and even the thesaurus seems like gibberish, but the kind where emotions elude me. While ideas and thoughts run amok in my mind like men under the influence sporting jet-packs, the emotion to truly capture these ideas and record them to pad or blog seems distant and I'm not quite sure why.
I think I'm holding back because of something that I may have done or that may have been done to me but for the life of me I can't figure out which. The frustration of all of this is one that's almost unbearable. Then again, it could be the claustrophobic enclosure of mountains that cause my thoughts to not flow.
Whether you attribute it to the unpredictability of the universe, some predetermined master plan or some twisted combination of the two, life and all that it contains has ways of making us feel insignificant. We all feel enveloped by the vastness of the universe, known and unknown. To some this provides a certain certainty, that allows them to trust completely the boundaries that nature has set and the established rules we must abide by. Yet we know one certainty to be true still; rules are made to be broken or at least bent.
And so from these mountains, I have squeezed the ounce of inspiration I needed to write 'something'. Not sure how much help it will be to anyone, but I'm once again working my way out of a slump.
T.O.T.D: "If The Writer Writes For Others, He Has Lost The Purpose Of His Gift!!!"
Monday, September 14, 2009
Losing Family....
Sean Connery said it best in 'Finding Forrester', "Losing family obliges us to find our family. Not always the family that is our blood, but the family that can become our blood. And should we have the wisdom to open our door to this new family, we will find that the wishes and hopes we once had, for the father who once guided us, for the brother who once inspired us, those wishes are there for us once again."
The fact is the more we lose family, the more family we find. While our new family members are never meant to replace the ones we've lost, they stand as constant reminders of the love and familiar care that we once expressed and will always hold dear.
And just like blood-relatives they are always there providing the consistency one needs to grieve and the support to get through it all. Most importantly, your family will refresh and reaffirm your faith. Not only faith in humanity, but your faith in God. They are the arrows that direct you to the Comforter, for in them you find that although they are strong when you need them, their mortal strength will only be a pillar for so long.
To the family....
Let us never forget that we are the beacons, the way-marks and our role is only to map-out the path and allow God to apply His soothing balm.
Let us love, now more than ever, each other and find comfort, solace and refuge in the family!
T.O.T.D: "We Cannot Lay Aside The Memory Of Those Who, Before Us, Have Departed Because They Have Become Us And We Them. We Must, Then, Cherish Their Memory As We Do Our Very Beings!!!-----Elias Orville Dupuis
The fact is the more we lose family, the more family we find. While our new family members are never meant to replace the ones we've lost, they stand as constant reminders of the love and familiar care that we once expressed and will always hold dear.
And just like blood-relatives they are always there providing the consistency one needs to grieve and the support to get through it all. Most importantly, your family will refresh and reaffirm your faith. Not only faith in humanity, but your faith in God. They are the arrows that direct you to the Comforter, for in them you find that although they are strong when you need them, their mortal strength will only be a pillar for so long.
To the family....
Let us never forget that we are the beacons, the way-marks and our role is only to map-out the path and allow God to apply His soothing balm.
Let us love, now more than ever, each other and find comfort, solace and refuge in the family!
T.O.T.D: "We Cannot Lay Aside The Memory Of Those Who, Before Us, Have Departed Because They Have Become Us And We Them. We Must, Then, Cherish Their Memory As We Do Our Very Beings!!!-----Elias Orville Dupuis
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Sorry It Took So Long...
Maybe it's the anticipation of friends near-forgotten, having not seen them in what seems a lifetime, or the mouth-watering prospect of being on the cusp of finally graduating, but something has me wanting to go to school; and desperately. So much so that I've forgotten to enjoy my trek to back to school.
Tonight, I'm writing from a home that I've visited on many occasions and it's always a pleasure to be sitting and talking with family, even if it once again signals that my short-sighted government, who ironically is investing heavily in tourism, has yet to afford my nation a night-landing capable airport. Yet even the joy of hanging with family, whom I last saw a few years ago because of the many interesting routes I've taken to Jamaica over the years, pales in comparison to the burning desire to get back to familiar surroundings and faces. And to think just a few months ago I was itching to run from it to the uncertainty that home offered.
Be careful, though, that you don't interpret what has been a fore mentioned, as meaning that i did not enjoy it. That was not the case at all. I enjoyed it all, from the sweltering heat and horrible humidity to the air-conditioned newsroom of one of the top radio stations in the country and every degree in between. The long Sabbath services, drawn-out by incredibly beautiful singing (it's in the genes...lol) and heart-wrenching testimonies are just part of the experience of my entire "summer's experience". However, I have come to realize that with each tropical depression, summer slips away and I have arrived at it's inevitable end.
I felt it about a week ago and I knew that I had already turned the corner and school was staring me right in the face. Surprisingly and, like I mentioned, I don't know exactly why, my attitude towards the notion of returning to school is better than it's ever been. And I understand that some may not share my enthusiasm and of such I will do my best only to express it on blogs and keep it to myself when we meet. But know that I will be delighted to see you and eager to again attempt the "perfect" semester.
T.O.T.D: When In Rome, Be Sure To Tell Them You're Dominican!!!
Tonight, I'm writing from a home that I've visited on many occasions and it's always a pleasure to be sitting and talking with family, even if it once again signals that my short-sighted government, who ironically is investing heavily in tourism, has yet to afford my nation a night-landing capable airport. Yet even the joy of hanging with family, whom I last saw a few years ago because of the many interesting routes I've taken to Jamaica over the years, pales in comparison to the burning desire to get back to familiar surroundings and faces. And to think just a few months ago I was itching to run from it to the uncertainty that home offered.
Be careful, though, that you don't interpret what has been a fore mentioned, as meaning that i did not enjoy it. That was not the case at all. I enjoyed it all, from the sweltering heat and horrible humidity to the air-conditioned newsroom of one of the top radio stations in the country and every degree in between. The long Sabbath services, drawn-out by incredibly beautiful singing (it's in the genes...lol) and heart-wrenching testimonies are just part of the experience of my entire "summer's experience". However, I have come to realize that with each tropical depression, summer slips away and I have arrived at it's inevitable end.
I felt it about a week ago and I knew that I had already turned the corner and school was staring me right in the face. Surprisingly and, like I mentioned, I don't know exactly why, my attitude towards the notion of returning to school is better than it's ever been. And I understand that some may not share my enthusiasm and of such I will do my best only to express it on blogs and keep it to myself when we meet. But know that I will be delighted to see you and eager to again attempt the "perfect" semester.
T.O.T.D: When In Rome, Be Sure To Tell Them You're Dominican!!!
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