Rasta Rooster?.. I think not!

My name is Donald... Donald Trumph!

Thanks for your concern..

Thanks to those who sent msgs and shared concern re my recent stay at the hospital. I'm doing ok, thankfully. Just waiting on the results of the tests... hopefully it'll be good news.

LOL..Does this convince you?

LOL...I'm sorry, but I just saw this on a friend's blog at http://variousmusings-amplified.blogspot.com/ and I just couldn't help it!

Sunday Ice Cream

I wrote this a long time ago... Maybe just started high-school. Reading it now... seems I've come quite a way. The events are fictional, but I still wanted to share...



Sunday Ice-cream

My daddy was the best daddy ever
always told me how much he loved me
He loved me, I knew, his eyes were his words
My daddy, to me, his eyes never lied

But daddy must have been a very nice man
Cause he loved the girl in the store
The girl on the bus, the one in the stall

He’d bring home the bread,
and he’d pay up the bills
Make sure I’d get my Sunday ice cream

Mummy left one day, and didn’t come back
Another girl, my braids would plat
She was the girl from the store, or was it the bus??
Or maybe the choir, or the ice cream truck

Yes that’s the one, the ice cream truck lady
I missed it then, didn’t quite hear his eyes talking
“lovely day isn’t it?”
“Oh, yes!!” she’d replied
he had turned back and winked…“I enjoyed last night!!”

Only in Dominica - The Corridor Physician

I was meant to have a small procedure at the hospital recently - which by the way was postponed. While waiting for the first four of what would turn out to be a six hour wait, one young woman came out of the ward dragging her drip stand, and shuffling down to sit near me, and about 4 other older women along the corridor.

She was apparently lactating, and had seriously soiled the front of her night dress since she, as she would explain, was not allowed to breast feed her baby. As she was sitting there, groaning and complaining, this is the conversation that ensued between herself, and the older women sitting there:

Older woman: "Girl... why you crying so? Ask de doctor to make you feed your chile!"

Patient: "I cannot. De doctor say is not good now."

Visiting woman: "Is true, depending on de tablet she taking, it can affect de chile."

Older woman: "But you not seeing is not a tablet she taking... is liquid she on!"

25 Random things about me

1. I'm not a fashionista. Never was, never will be. Taking the time to "dress up" simply depends on my mood, and the amount of free time I have.

2. I LOVE warm waffles!!... Ohhhhhhh.. :)

3. At a party, I'm the girl you'll find sitting on the back step, or under the tree.

4. My ears aren't pierced, simply because I don't want to- It is not a statement of social rebellion.

5. I rescue bugs and creepy crawlies if I find them in trouble (minus the mosquitoes and the cockroaches of course)

6. My favourite time of day's at night.. when everyone else is asleep...

7. I usual reflect the emotions of the people I'm around.. If they're sad, then I'm sad. I guess that means I'm not much of a mood lifter.

8. I'm completely comfortable with silence, as long as there isn't any animosity

9. I still want to learn guitar! Darn it!

10. I LOVE BREAD!

11. I despise dumb arguments and simply wont participate.

12. I wish I were wittier.

13. I think God knew what he was doing when he made me.

14. For some reason, I do care what the people I love think about me, and am constantly afraid of disapproval.

15. The idea of death does not scare me.

16. I write out my feelings more easily than I could say it.

17. I put ketchup on my scrambled eggs, and use chocolate milk with my breakfast cereal.

18. I like learning things... just about anything

19. I cook when I want to... and that's that.

20. I'm not a financial wiz!

21. I like poetry, and music, and art, and all things creative.

22. Doesn't like being the center of attention... and prefers anonymity.

23. I love my Dou Dou!

24. I'm afraid of grasshoppers, but I'm working on it.

25. I just used 25 minutes of my time trying to think of 25 random things about myself.

Only in Dominica - The Hitchhicker

On my island home, hitching a ride is not only a necessity at times, but it's an almost unavoidable part of our culture. As inconvenient, and imposing as it can be, it is what it is - With a transportation system like ours, face it, we have all had to tough it out on the shrubby 'highways' at one point or another.

Needless to describe how annoying, and disconcerting it can be for the person desirous of a ride... but what about that driver who stops, sometimes only as an after thought, or after being bitten by a persistent conscience?

My dad recounts this experience:

He had been coming from work one afternoon, and was meant to pass in through Salisbury. While driving, he had passed this man in Layou, who had flagged him down... hesitating, he stopped for the guy. Unknowing to him, a rather rotund woman who was also standing along side the road, hopped on. No comment from my dad- only the "Oh boy" look.

The male passenger disembarks in St Joseph, leaving only the woman on board, who, to put it nicely, would make no better company than a swarm of starving mosquitoes.

Upon arrival in Salisbury, my dad stops along the highway so the woman could get off.

Woman- "But is not der i going. Right Portsmouth oui I have to go."
Dad - "Lady, I have to go up to Salisbury."
Woman - "But why you pick me up if is der you going?"

My Dad cringes, sucks his teeth.. but says nothing.

Murmuring and mumbling as she wobbles off the vehicle, she marches up to the drivers window..."Well den give me $5 to pay my bus nah man?"

BOL' FACE!

Culinary Crusades.... The Chocolate Chip Cookie

Nestle's Toll House Chocolate Chip Cookies

2 1/4 c. all-purpose flour
1 tsp. salt
1 tsp. baking soda
1 c. (2 sticks) butter, softened
3/4 c. sugar
3/4 c. firmly packed brown sugar
1 tsp. vanilla
2 eggs
1 (12 oz.) pkg. (2 c.) Nestle Toll House semi-sweet chocolate morsels
1 c. chopped nuts


Preheat oven to 375 degrees. In small bowl combine flour, baking soda and salt. In large mixer bowl combine butter, sugar and vanilla extract; beat until creamy. Gradually add chocolate morsels and nuts. Drop by rounded measuring tablespoonfuls onto ungreased cookie sheets. Bake at 375 degrees for 9 to 11 minutes. Makes about 5 dozen. 2 1/4" cookies.

******************

All right, by now I think we can all agree that I'm a little bit of a fruit cake. Any how, my boyfriend made these cookies and I loved them. So, as usual, I'm going to try them. Being the supportive, kind, sweet thing that he is-He isn't reading this, so its ok for me to say all those things- he gladly helped me to get the ingredients.

Any ways, once I manage to find the ingredients for any recipe I want to try, I'm always super excited and rush right into it. And rush I did - as soon as I got home.


All things considered, I messed up. I wasn't paying attention, and instead of using the baking soda which the recipe calls for, I used baking powder. Ok, I don't over react...they are both rising agents, how bad can it be?

Next, the butter I meant to use was rock solid since it had been in the refridgerator. The butter is meant to be "soft", so I stick it into the microwave for a little while, just so it would be , you know, less 'rock-like'. By the time I take it out of the device, its a bubbling pool of fat. Being the problem solver that I sometimes think I am.. I stick the mess into the freezer, just so it would be, you know, more butter-like. Are you seeing a pattern here?

So any ways, I manage to overcome all of that and the dough tastes great! So I stuff the tasty wads of dough into the oven and wait... and wait.... and wait..... and wait some more. Sure, the recommended time had long expired, but my cookies were as white as a sheet. Reason you wonder? MY OVEN ONLY GOES UP TO 290 degrees or so!!! Like what am I supposed to do with that? Most cake recipes require baking temperatures of about 350 degrees! Remind me when I'm furnishing my house- Check the maximum temperature on the oven!!

Eventually, after waiting about twice the cooking time, I pull the cookies out. By this time, they certainly aren't white.. but they are rock hard!! Every one at home still liked them, but I was a bit disappointed.

I've decided to try this again. Maybe in a friends oven and see what happens. I will modify the recipe though, I thought it to be a little too sweet for my taste.

Growing up 'Me'

I have always been a tom boy. Well at least, that’s the way I grew up. Nothing would please me more than running through the grass with my brothers, climbing trees, playing marbles, hide and seek or “Police and Dread” with the boys from the neighbourhood.

I remember climbing a tree which stood in our front yard. A

miserable looking thing it was. Tall, bare, and as I would find out later; feeble. For a reason that completely escapes me now, I had climbed that tree. Up and up I went until I had gotten to the very top, and could go no further. As I recovered from the thrill of it all, and decided to descend, I realised that the branch that I would have had to step on to climb down, was too far below me to reach. If that wasn't trouble enough, the slightest move I made would cause the tree to sway precariously from side to side. It was quickly becoming clear that I may have gone a little too far.

So, how does a 10 year old girl get out of a tree?... SCREAM FOR DADDY! And that is exactly what I did. I remember seeing him bolt out of the house trying to locate me. After a few seconds he looked up and realised where I was. He was visibly shocked, as the sweat drops erupted on his brow. He would later run to the neighbours, who had already begun gathering in the front yard, to fetch a ladder. Somehow, he managed to get me out. And, although the neighbours all thought it funny and would be talking about it for days, my mother was not amused. When I was brought in, she couldn't decide whether she should be angry or relieved as warnings and words of comfort streamed out of her mouth in a muddle of words that I didn't quite understand.

On another occasion, I was crawling through the hedges in our back yard, and happened across a piece of plastic, printed with a very strange pattern. I had sat there for a while holding it up to the light, examining the ripples and curls of the lines which ran along my new find. Eventually, I carried it into the house with me, and excitedly called out to my Mom, thrusting my new treasure into her opened hands. I watched curiously as her faced morphed from apparent confusion to a terror that I have yet again to witness in my life. As if in slow motion, my precious bit of plastic went hurling across the room, while my Mom catapulted in the opposite direction.

The result of the phone call that she had made after that was a search party of 4 men from the area searching for a large Boa in our back yard. It was found the next day in our neighbour’s yard, and killed. There was no way for me to know that my interesting little piece of plastic was really the molted skin of a very large snake. I apologized for that one.

There was nothing graceful about my movements. Ahhhh… and how my mother dispissed my boyish antics. And not the least of these was the constant bruises and scratches which were the result of my daily adventures and expeditions. I clearly remember her saying, “One day, you’ll want these scars to disappear. You’ll want a boy to like you someday.” She seemed pained, and I hadn’t understood why. In my innocence, there was absolutely nothing wrong with the way I lived, and I would not change.

My adventures after that were numerous- some of which I will recount later.. More quickly maybe if I am bribed with a very good book!

..Who's your daddy?-The Dominican family

There is something quite unique about the Dominican family. Not so much to those who live here, but to people who are not originally from this island gem. I have more than a few friends who live out of Dominica, but visit on the occasional vacation. One outstanding feature of their wonder about Dominica comes from the dynamics of the Dominican family.

On a drive one day, Wendy, who was from the US witnessed the exchange of several waves, shouts and smiles along the way. When she would ask how I knew him, or her, it was often: “he’s my cousin....she’s my aunt....or he’s my uncle.” Seeking to clarify the relationship, I would have to explain that this ‘uncle’ was actually my grandmother’s half brother- and that really, we had bo relation, and this cousin was not really my cousin, but a child whom my uncle- who wasn’t really my uncle- had taken care of since he was young.

Now you can see that to a non Dominican, the thought of such an extensive family tree would be inconceivable. Not to the average Dominican though. Of course, not so much now as it was in the past, but for the most part, this situation was not helped by what I can best describe as the prolific nature of our grandparents and those before them. I know that my grandfather had some 35 children, and one of his sons had 13. Needless to say that this pattern was not by any means a rarity.

It is from this background that this story comes. One over which I have shared many laughs with my friends who were there when it was being recounted.

My friend was in a casual conversation with his sister when they happened to begin discussing their family tree. Now since they were only half brother and sister, they both have different relatives. Gerald was told that he had 14 siblings, Jen was told she had 7. This is not at all uncommon in any society. But things became very entertaining when Gerald, who was older, started telling stories of him “discovering” sisters strictly by happenstance, thinking that he was talking to another pretty girl.

In one story, he had traveled to the other side of the island with a friend to attend a ‘jam’. But his friend who was from the area casually warned him that he should go find two girls who lived up on the hill. He was wondering why, but being the outgoing guy who he was, he just went, despite his confusion. And yes, these girls looked too much like his own sisters for comfort. Wondering, he asked who their father was. He wasn’t surprised when they told him their dad was his. Of course, he had never heard of these girls before. His father gave him some story that they weren’t really his, but that the girls’ grandparents liked him more than the real father, so they passed the girls off as his? Gerald apparently wasn’t prepared to believe that one.

Jen also told us of one story when her dad was dressing up looking all spiffy. It was a very curious sight, so she asked where he was off to: “Well,” her dad had said, “Some padner up in de north calling my name for his father. I going and see if is true.”

Of course, when she called and told me about it, I was all over the floor in laughter. See, the mere fact that her dad even thought it may be plausible was telling enough. Absolutely hilarious- and in many respects, sad! Some part of me wonders how many brothers and sisters she may have running around the island and not even know it.

For all that its worth, this is only a casual discourse, but as Gerald put it, “How is a guy supposed to survive if the girls he making a break on at a party keep turning out to be his cousin, sister or niece?!” My response to that would be, “Just ask your father!”

Culinary Crusades.... The doughnut / donut

And after a long time of relative inactivity, I once again headed to the Kitchen to learn something new. For a very long time, I had been curious about this doughnut that I tasted some time back. I asked around and no one could give me a recipe that I was even remotely interested in trying. But low and behold, I purposed to find one by browsing the internet, and I found this one. I think I'm in love!

This is it. They're called Cake Doughnuts. Shared the same recipe with some friends and they all loved it. Even my boss tried it the very next day. This one is a keeper!


INGREDIENTS

2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 cup white sugar
1 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 dash ground nutmeg
2 tablespoons melted butter
1/2 cup milk
1 egg, beaten
1 quart oil for frying



DIRECTIONS

1. Heat oil in deep-fryer to 375 degrees F (190 degrees C). Or medium low heat on a stove top.

2. In a large bowl, sift together flour, sugar, salt, baking powder, cinnamon and nutmeg. Mix in butter until crumbly. Stir in milk and egg until smooth. Knead lightly, then turn out onto a lightly floured surface. Roll or pat to 1/4 inch thickness. Cut with a doughnut cutter.

3. Carefully drop doughnuts into hot oil, a few at a time. Do not overcrowd pan or oil may overflow. Fry, turning once, for 3 minutes or until golden. Drain on paper towels.


Although the dough tends to be a bit sticky, and may require a bit more flour than the recipe calls for, this one is immaculate!

What always gets me about my culinary adventures. I'm usually all psyched about trying the new recipe. I do, but then I can't eat much of it. I had two doughnuts this time- while my neighbours, family and co workers consumed all the rest!! I'm not sure what happens in the mind of someone when they're cooking, but for me, it seems like I lose my appetite. It also doesn't help that I'm not really into sweet things. My friend usually says thats cause I'm sweet enough. I just blush! :)

Next on the agenda though: How do I make this recipe mine? I'm thinking nuts! Hmmmm....

Venus vs Vector

There is no better lullaby than the sound of a thousand buzzing mosquitoes. Last week, I was lucky enough to be blessed with my very own creature choir, complete with an accompanying dancing troop. Why the dancers you ask?... What else could they be called if they keep bouncing into your face half the night?

I've tried Bop/ Baygon. They work well on the night that they are used, but I hate the residual odour that always lingers even after you air out the room.

Then there were the vape-mats and the noxious coils. Both are too strong for my nostrils and leave me feeling very nauseous.

Frustrated, my next clever idea was to wear one of dads old long sleeves shirts. Great!... And just when I felt like breaking into M.C Hammer's classic... "ta na na na, na na, na na.. CAN'T TOUCH DIS!!".. I woke up the next morning with bumps all over MY FACE!! MY FACE!! Those darn creatures had launched a full fledged mutiny. I guess they figured.. we'll just take what we can get. It was the only body part uncovered. (How else is a sister supposed to breathe!)

I knew I couldn't copy my mum and just sleep completely covered by sheets from head to toe. I couldn't do it, not even if I tried. So that would have been a pointless effort.

What to do?

Ah Ha!! A FAN!!... No fumes. No work. Plus, I can keep cool. Well, yeah. It did work. It worked so well, that the next morning, I woke up with a stuffing nose. Arrgggggg!!!!!!! Not worth it!


And then there was...The Zapper!! The ultimate mosquito killing machine. These things annihilate those buggers in a flash. Literally! Ofcourse, for all it's wonders, just how do you electrocute mosquites if you'd actually prefer sleeping, as opposed to staying up keeping a vector vigil? Alas... my zapper had fallen short.


But, on Saturday, upon coming home from a wedding... this is the sight that greeted me... Well, something like it any how.


Andddd, last night.... as I laid myself down to sleep......zzzzzz... zzzzz... BUZZZZZZZZZ........

Be the change..

You must BE the CHANGE that you want to see in the world.

-Mohandas Mahatma Gandhi

While there is much that can be said about this quote made by Mahatma Gandhi when he was speaking after prayer service, I think it can stand strong all on it's own. BE THE CHANGE!! You just be the change.

Kitchen Wars- Part II

.... Okkkk. Still working on that kitchen. I managed to line a few of the cupbaords and so was able to fill in some of our cooking utensils. The new kitchen excites me!! ( Boys... you will not and possibly will never understand this, but ladies.. you know...) Any how, I've been feeling a little adventurous... so, in a little while, i'm going to try wisking up a few pina coladas. It's 3:42pm, but who cares. When Jae wants to do something.. she'll do it! O:-)

I've looked up the recipe online, and realised i've got all the ingredients. Even the coconut cream- I got it when a friend mistakenly thought it was coconut milk, which I had needed at the time to make a sancouche for my british cousin. By the way, I ended up having to cut and grate a real coconut to squeeze the milk out old school style- nearly grating off my fingers in the process!

Anyways... Pina Coladas anyone?

Kitchen wars...

So the carpenters have finally finished our kitchen cupboards and renovations to the ceiling. It's been two months mind you. In the interim, we had to move the stove downstairs, while the refrigerator, microwave and dishes remained upstairs. Imagine having to make four trips up and down stairs just to start cooking a meal. Well, that has been my life for the past two months.

Needless to say, I have lost a few pounds in the process. One, because I have avoided cooking and eating altogether, and second, when I do decide to make the effort, I have to work 3 times as hard. I'm not so sure whether the weight loss is a good thing as these days i get the occasional:

"Girrrrl!!! You dat der nah?"

I smile.... "Yup, it's me."

"I doh even notice is you dat der nuh! You get meg eh i find?"

I smile... again. Except, this time, no words.

I guess I know that people mean no harm during these exchanges, but, it does somehow manage to get on my nerves after a while. Sometimes I respond with the always reassuring, " Doh worry, I won't lose more weight man." To which is the expected retort," You had better not!"

Hmmm.. Dominica. It still takes a community to raise a child. I'm hoping that all the questioning is because they are all so concerned. As opposed to just being nosey.

Anyway, the stove is back up in the kitchen, where it's supposed to be. To celebrate, I baked a cake last night. There is no way I would even have considered the feat had the stove and oven remained downstairs. So... needless to say, I'm ecstatic. There's still a lot of cleaning up left to do. All our pots, pans, dishes ect still have to be found and packed into their respective cupboards, but we're well on our way.

Today, after coming home and taking a shower while a house lizard stared the entire time, I had to decide upon which of the dreaded tasks I would tackle first: typing up a storm of sponsorship letters, or..... the dishes in the kitchen.

I decided to write a blog post instead. I think I'll have a piece of cake right after this. After all, ones priorities should always be well considered, right?

Reactions..

P.S. Now you can actually let me know when i make a shitty post. You'll see a new tab t the end of every post, if you like the post.. vote "DEEP" or "ENTERTAINING".. if it's a horrible post.. vote "SHALLOW". And please, dont worry, I'm not vindictive, at least i don't think so. ):-)>

Poetic Me...

I was in a history class when this piece sort of just flowed from the tips of my pen. The words kept coming faster than I could write them. But somehow I managed to get these ones down.



Past These Silvery Shores

Before these chains and stalls
When I roamed the trails and canvassed the hills
The fowls and beasts were my reward
I knew that I was blessed

My woman- bosom gently curved, skin- ebony velvet
She oils her temple with sesame and hair with castor
And her treasure is mine, all mines
Can you not see that I am blessed?

My children- my prize, my pleasure, my pain
Oh that they would grow, with this knowledge
My toil all worth it
To know that they are blessed

My back- bent, bruised and burnt
Muscles torn and hurt, heart even more so
As I ache for my posterity
That they would know that we are blessed

What would they know of this?
Will they see beyond the stripes and wounds?
To nights of rhythmic bongo beats
And know that they are blessed

What will they hear of this?
Of lashes, sweat and tears
Or, of freedom and silky ruby sunsets
And know that they are blessed

What will they learn of this?
That ivory coloured men took their friends
Or, though hardly gentle, another opportunity to prove
And know that they are blessed

But hush....

Rest well my child, be wise
All things no doubt do shape
us all from the very same lump of clay
To know that we are blessed

Look far past these silvery shores
To a home that only the core of you has sensed
A place of warmth, of labour and love
And know, my seed, that you are blessed

Community day of service

On the day designated by the government as “National Community Day of Service”, more than 46 individuals from the community turned out to lend their support to efforts to rehabilitate the road leading from the highway to the bay side commonly known as “Batty Bay”.
The road, which is used by sea bathers, basketballers, fishermen, and mourners had been in a deplorable state due to wear and tear, and water damage. The culverts, which were intended to prevent the flow of water over the road had for a long time remained blocked, as a result, forcing water to flow over the road. All of this was compounded by the excess growth of shrubbery along the sides of the road, making access to the area increasingly difficult.

Earlier in the year, citing this need, the Salisbury Enhancement Committee applied through Local Government for materials to fix the road on community day of service. Although there were a few hiccups in that process, in the end, they provided the committee with 18 cu yds of tarish, and 30 bags of cement.

Early on Tuesday the 4th of November, men, women and children could be seen gathering at the lowest point in the village awaiting the commencement of work. Fishermen, DACA Men, construction workers, church leaders, community members and visiting Dominicans were all on hand to assist with the project. It was a valiant effort by all involved to see this project come to pass.

Chairman of SEC, Curth Charles, as he was being interviewed by the outside broadcast team of DBS Radio said he was extremely impressed with the turn out of workers from the community. He also hailed the women from the community who had provided snacks and water to the working men. Starnie Jno Jules and Silma Luke had willingly left their homes to carry juice, bakes, fried plaintain, and water, Starnie making several trips herself. Nurse Rachael Bowers provided the members of S.E.C with a special codfish lunch. Yummm!!


As the men worked, it became increasingly clear that this was by no means a one-day project, this being made even more obvious when the 30 bags donated by Local Government were all consumed. One village group lent 15 additional bags of cement to assist in the completion of the project. Still, at the end of the work day, when all the cement, and tarish had been used, the project was only 30% complete. The workers, being enthusiastic explained that they would be more than willing to return to complete the project on a subsequent day.


On the other side of the road, young people from the Catholic Church could be seen weeding, planting flowers and painting structures on the outside of the church building. Further in, at the bayside, the Salisbury Girls Guides were working hard on their own beach clean up efforts. As a result of their work, six bags of garbage was collected along the beach.
In other parts of the community, other projects were being pursued. There were also projects on one of the back roads near the highway and still another in the center of the village where a major drain was being constructed.


All in all, the community spirit on that day was something that has been sorely missed. As one worker put it, “long time we doh see something like dat!” Many volunteers on the site hoped that this would not be the last show of such solidarity in a community that has been well known for its fiercely independent and progressive spirit

Hibernation

Yup.. so it's been AGES since i have managed to post anything here. I've been so entangled in the management of the website that i scarcely have time for anything else.

It's been an interesting ride. I've met some really cool people since starting work on the website. Celia ... she's such a talented photographer. She gave me permission to link to her flickr account. I've been able to link up with others from the Salisbury community who are resident else where. (notice i didn't use the word 'diaspora'- apparently, they consider it a misuse of the word. Technically tantamount to an insult.)

I'm really very proud of the work we've been able to do with the people from Salisbury, and their web site. I think it stands head and shoulder above all the other community web sites that have been recently launched. I think you can find a full list of all the community web sites on the reunion web site, under village links. Take a look yourself. http://dominicareunion2008.dm/cms/index.php?page=links

I must apologize for the tone of the last post... It kinda has this melancholic tone don't it? But no, I'm still here.. still alive... still trusting. I think it was just a moment of panic. One of my few.. I will do my best though to keep this blog updated. God knows i have been having many an adventure.. and misadventure.

Be sure to visit bawilinkup.com!!