Round, perky, elongated, stretched, huge, small, injected, natural, a woman’s breasts are undoubtedly one of the most or some might add, the most sensual, attractive and eye-catching part of her body. They seem to be perfectly poised in a most prominent location as is a centre-piece in a living room. They are often paraded about on magazine covers, the pageant stage, the catwalk, the beach sometimes lucratively, sometimes unfairly judged and sometimes unfortunately branded as a sex object. In the throes of love-making they are pinched, teased, sucked caressed, while in the dark ugly side of abuse and harassment they are grappled, fondled disgustingly and ravaged brutally.

Whatever the good or bad though, breasts are a God-given asset, the primary function of which. is to nurse the young infant or infants that nourishment being the perfect food for new borns and infants up to a year in many instances. Of course there may be instances where nursing or breastfeeding may not be the appropriate action due to medical reasons. But by and large, breastfeeding is generally accepted as the norm. It is said that a bond is usually created during the act and that a baby has all the nutrients required from breastfeeding for at least the first three months.

So what then is the angst about it, if and when a mother breastfeeds in public and why are many women shamed for engaging in it? Why is it viewed as inappropriate, why are people sometimes even women, uncomfortable seeing it being done? This is a bothersome affair that I find annoying, hypocritical and discriminatory, sexist even.

Annoying because it seems to be going out of one’s way to encroach on the personal private space of a mother who is simply providing the most basic primary care to a helpless child whose sustenance depends on that primary care, because another human has qualms about the breast being exposed and needing to be covered up. What kind of thoughts are those opposers having about breastfeeding when they see it being done in public?

It’s hypocritical to ask for the breast to be covered up when that there seems to be no problem leering at breasts on a Carnival Stage or applauding them on the streets during the same festival or even lusting at them on a beach. Even more so many women who are obnoxiously groped and fondled do not draw the attention, nor do their perpetrators receive the dis-approval in large degree as are our mothers who are only feeding their child in a most natural and loving manner. Come on! What is this about?

My! It is discriminatory and sexist to mount such shame on and hate towards women, nursing mothers, for engaging in a lawful, moral, humane act of child-care to a helpless infant, while men are not chided for being on the Body-Builders Stage showing off their physique for self-gratification, or may, again during festival times, flaunt their nipples on the streets in the spirit of revelry. Why is this so?

Beautiful, full, rich, nutritious, milk-laden breasts are being aptly engaged in the life-saving act of breast-feeding. I mean the very act is a beautiful, touching self-less activity that a mother conducts out of pure, undiluted love. The sight is lovely to behold and ought never to be called out as if it were a criminal act.

Just as the fruits in the Garden are ripe and ready to be picked for our pleasure and more importantly our nutrition, so too are those Beautiful Breasts, a most natural means of providing food for a baby. It matters not whether the activity is conducted in the private sphere or in the public domain.

The Breadfruit leaves, Passionfruit leaves, Soursop leaves, Christophene leaves, Mango leaves, the Verti-vere leaves, even the Rose leaves in my yard from my childhood days, turned brown. By the river, the guava, nutmeg and and a whole host of other leaves turned brown too. In Daddy’s garden the banana and coconut leaves, among others, met their fate. in the same way.

Like wayward children those in my yard were strewn all over by the wind and with several strokes of the Cocoye broom, were heaped up to be burned. Ah! but those by the river laid down their tired selves to form a large carpet beneath the tall overgrown trees. I liked the feel of them beneath my toes as I walked along the narrow path and felt like I was in a hallowed sanctuary, a little dark but well protected in the silence of the environment , occasionally punctuated by the whistling birds, the distant mooing of a cow and of course the ever present gurgling river water along its bed and over the pebbles and boulders. The banana leaves in Daddy’s garden were called trash and sometimes used to forma “Kata” to rest the basket of food on. Those from the coconut tree were saved so that their bones or stems could recycled into cocoye brooms for sweeping the yard.

My very own leaves from my Almond Tree, Mango tree and Palm tree created their own stories as they turned brown too. They were always raked up and dumped with no regret by my husband since to him they were a complete bother.

But all those brown leaves, did their colour change have any significance? Yes! Of course! The loss of the green hue meant that no chlorophyll was present, and that life for them had ceased. They were DEAD! No photosynthesis could occur in them. They were now fit for either being repurposed or being discarded. Their season as a viable entity has passed and they would either go off quietly or resurface in another form.

And oh, the brown leaves in our lives! When turn those leaves, brown, and when they fall what happens to them, to us? And what are even those Brown Leaves? They can fit into a range of categories. They can indeed be soo many things.

Friendships, interactions, habits, mindsets, possessions, whoa, people too constitute those brown leaves! We sometimes moan, mourn, bawl, dance, rejoice, breathe, exhale when they meet their demise. Some friendships and interactions would have served us well and may have taken their exit via death or misfortune. In such instances our eyes redden and we moan and mourn. If, however, they were toxic and burdensome then there is often great rejoicing. In the case of habits and mindsets a slightly different outcome may ensue.

Sometimes bad habits may need to be wrenched from us to our dismay and hurt while others are a good welcome to bad rubbish. Possessions sometimes pose a challenge. They are often hard to part with since we tend to become very attached to them. Imagine that favourite mug, teacup like mine to drink my bush tea from. or my head-only and torso-less dolls that I placed in a bottle as a child, simply because I was so attached. We tend to hang on to things long after their use has gone. So all those bottles in the cupboard that we think will come in handy, the numerous perfume bottles on our dresser, the out-moded or worn-out clothing. People who are not good for our development and progress, peace of mind or physical and emotional well-being are a sure example of those brown leaves that Must be discarded too. That negative- speaking acquaintance we call “Friend”, that self-serving amor, those peers with bad advice!

When all those leaves turn brown we determine what our choices are. Discard or re-purpose. Hopefully for our sakes, we Will make the right choice. We CANNOT, SHOULD NOT, ever confuse what ought to be discarded and what can be repurposed. The Garden is a happier place, a greener place, a living space, when the right choice is made. The Vibes will be Live when the leaves turn brown and find their place.

As much as we know that death is inevitable, if we know that one is terminally ill or if an accident occurs, we are Never Ever fully prepared to deal with the event. The dark clouds of grief either completely envelopes us, or takes a slow roll-over leaving us shrouded in darkness, walls of tears and immense pain, taking short sharp digs at us testing every fibre of composure in our being.

Someone dying alone and unknown of brings on a different type of dis-ease and malheur to the loved ones, especially if there are few around and support may be an issue. But it at these times that the unity of spirit and strength of character jumpstarts into full gear to effect all arrangements .

And so when my Uncle died alone in his Flat in December, the legacy of His Parents’ goodliness, warmth and unity through the two elder sisters, and firmly embedded in their offsprings, sprung into gear. My Babe and cousins did an excellent job of co-ordinating all the arrangements, informing those of us far away, cleaning up, clearing away and holding down the fort . Uncle had died and they were the ones to deal with it.

The funeral today was short, on point and executed well. Thankfully with the use of Modern Technology I was able to be part of the experience. I appreciate fully their efforts and courage to bring to closure the entire episode of dealing with a loved ones’ death.

I was caught up in the sombre mood and the sadness was real especially when that curtain closed and the fitting song was played. When a Loved Ones Dies a light shines on the grief and scatters its rays of unity.

The Garden Vibes are solemn today for a Loved One has Died! Weep with me in the Garden but arise again and smile with your living kin. They need you!

Our plight! The inevitable! It’s expected. Whether anxiously, nervously, eagerly or with dread every female from anywhere between nine and fourteen years will have to accept that gift from Nature. Some of us are pre-warned, others of us are completely shocked once it appears and yes, a few of us simply take it with no […]

Bloody Thing! A rite of passage or a nuisance? — Garden Vibes

Our plight! The inevitable!

It’s expected. Whether anxiously, nervously, eagerly or with dread every female from anywhere between nine and fourteen years will have to accept that gift from Nature. Some of us are pre-warned, others of us are completely shocked once it appears and yes, a few of us simply take it with no fuss.

That Bloody Thing! It changes our moods, our interaction with our peers, our hygiene routine, our view of ourselves. Many of us want to be left alone, get cranky and annoyed, teary and angry. We no longer hang out a lot with the boys, because our Grandma’s tales would have indicated that “something could go terribly wrong’ if we spoke to boys. Of course we know now that the message was tainted and inaccurate but heeded it nonetheless. Our trips to the washroom/bathroom/ toilet becomes more frequent and is often very, very discreet, shameful even.

My some of us as grown women do not even want our boyfriends, husbands or sons to know or see anything. Mind you, that man is the same man who we lie with unabashed, opening up the most intimate parts of ourselves and that son would have, in natural birth, taken that path to be on earth. This Bloody Thing!

We sometimes become withdrawn, proud, feel womanly and womanish, knowing that we have attained a new status. But then some of are disgusted at its sight, fail to dispose properly, wonder if it’s a curse, especially when we are plagued with excrutiating pains, intense nauseau, severe cramps and other malaise. We wonder when it will take its leave on that day or for good. This Bloody Thing seems to want permanent residence.

Then we are on occasion subject to our pride brought low when the Bloody Thing shows up during a presentation, public consultation or during recess as a stain, drop or large patch. We feel numb, want to sink into the ground, disappear even.

And, and those of us fifty plus unfortunate souls try to come to terms with the extended stay of the Bloody Thing while our contemporaries, and younger kin and kind have parted ways with it.

Is it a badge of honour, a necessary evil, a delightful part of our growth and development this Bloody Thing?

What vibes does it bring you, man or woman as you sit with me in the Garden?

The intensely invigorating, cool, crisp morning air has me spellbound. I am borne on wings of complete tranquility and peace in that safe quiet zone. I am by Granny in Vieux Case on a weekend at about 5:30am. All around me are the imposing mountains hemming me in. I am elated and excited.

This little Nature Island Girl cherishes the times in the countryside by her grandmother. Off in the distance on another end, the bold waves of the Atlantic are clearly visible no doubt imposing their presence at Au Parque. The feeling is warm and the effect seeps slowly into her psyche to remain indelibly etched. That lush-green, safe Garden Vibes:

Varied shades and blends of green are everywhere. The tall majestic coconut palms, royal imposing mango trees, numerous guava, nutmeg, Fat Pork, Kubawi trees, ferns and endless supply of shrubs, tea bush offer a holy sanctuary of protection and reverence coupled with a rich supply of pure oxygen. Once again I am in complete awe and gratefulness. I am by the river in my home town either going to meet Mammie, spending time with my cousins on saturday for laundry time or taking a shortcut to school on a day I am late. The air, the air and that cover bear me up again to preserve my spirit and sense of belonging.

The Nature Island Girl completely relishes the river moments, solo or ensemble. All around the gently gurgling water increases that calm and relaxing effect to position the girl into that safe zone. The mood is perfect to settle and ease and would be that binding glue nature. That lush-green safe Garden Vibes:

Ah that really, really cool light pure air that purposefully sinks into my starved lungs, the slender bamboo plants, the colourful flora that brightens my senses the enormous trees everywhere completely rescue me. I am on that school trip through the National Park, Fresh Water Lake being one of the special sites. Once more I completely enveloped by safety in one of Nature’s Cathedrals in The Nature Isle, the land of my birth. My roots are being solidified, my attachment firmly sealed.

The Nature Island Girl is grounded in her heritage and forever appreciates the experiences of the interior. The perfectly cold, pure water emerging from the rocks offer a genuine satisfaction from the intense heat. The scene is ideal for a Nature lover and a patriotic soul. It cements the link to nature. That lush-green safe Garden Vibes:

The light fluttering palm trees, the towering almond tree, Mango tree, Coconut tree, the banana trees, the tea bush the stillness, the calm are all mine to savour. I am away from the stuffy, dusty town outside in the yard and I am completely enjoying the feeling. I reminisce of childhood days in Nature Island Green and feel safe here too in my Garden, my Yard.

The Nature Island Girl has found a refuge in adulthood to mimic her past and bear her up in tranquility and calm. She writes, she inspires, she sings, she offers praise, she prays. She is transported to her juvenile beginnings and it is a good thing. all that’s missing is that soft gurgling water sounds or that ocean view. Never mind that! She is ok in her garden since her memories are intact and her mood is right. She will strive and thrive right here in her little piece of nature. That lush-green safe Garden Vibes:

Christmas Time is usually a joyful time for everyone, especially children. What with the lights, tree, presents, fun, food, fellowship and Christmas Story! Parents usually play a role in ensuring the euphoric feeling children enjoy and often do their best to put their children at ease and make the process a joyous one.

Christmas Eve and Christmas Day 1979 though, will go down in history as the worst I have ever had! I was denied the opportunity of warm, fuzzy feelings any child wanted to revel in. My alcoholic, abusive Dad, no doubt still had not come to terms with Mommy “Getting out,” because she eventually got tired and left with us. eight months earlier. Although we still visited him, (including her) maybe for him that was not enough. His earlier threat of “Coming to kill you all tonight,” was not taken seriously by me until he was outside our rented home being a “bug,” to mom and to which I hoped she would completely ignore him and close the window. Dissatisfied, he ended up declaring, “I will be back,” like the evil Arnold.

Sure enough between sleep and wake the heavy blows on the doors and windows pummelled me into frightful action. Like a crazy horse, I bolted over the window sill unto the dark outside to be rescued along with my mom and niece by a neighbour. The other niece and nephews were also rescued and we all cowered in fear, trembling like a leaf beaten by hurricane winds.

However the worst part was venturing back into the house at first light to be greeted by torn, broken, busted and cut up clothes, furniture, and anything else that could have been destroyed. I knew now for certain that if we hadn’t escaped, we would all have been DEAD! For the rest of the day and certainly months ahead, those memories replayed themselves in my memory. No child should ever have to go through what that awful fear-drenched night did to me. When the signs are there and the perpetrators talk their talk, believe them. It can save a lot of heartache and headache, hurt and pain. It may very well save a child and eliminate bad vibes.

STANDin2021

Anyone? Does anyone know what has happened to them? Does anyone know them? Perhaps from long ago, a little while back or fairly recently?

That Girl! with her cherry cheeks and cafe eyes and round innocent face? Her petite perky mounds and spotless buttery skin and hidden heart ablaze?

That Boy! with his masculine jaws and mahogany skin and warm smiling eyes? His perfectly toned virility and comfortable aura and careful guardedness?

Have you seen them with their silent throbbing hearts and open hidden desires of a deeper elevated kind? Have you? Do you even know them? Can you recognise them? Where are they now? Shall we look for them? Might they be in the Garden checking out the Garden Vibes?