The Write Note: Book Launch and Reception at the Barbados Consulate

It has been several months since I’ve blogged and rather than spend or expend energy explaining why I haven’t I’ll start from where I am. Where I am now is an exciting if not, exhilarating place. It is that place I wrote about in Etched at the end of Chapter one where the narrator says, “And a time for peace (There’s no moment like when you realize that you’ve found it. It’s like walking in warm summer rain).

That place…that walking in the warm summer’s rain place is where I am. It’s the kind of place where you can, for me, untie my locs, shake my head from side to side and let my tresses flow/cascade down my shoulders and not ‘fix’ them. It’s closing my eyes and welcoming the darkness. It’s knowing that in this darkness there’s nothing to fear. Its feeling the weight of my hair/locs/tresses on my shoulders and thanking God that its only hair/tresses/locs and not burdens on my shoulders. Its knowing that behind my closed lids there are no images to fear. That I’ve let go and now that I’ve let go God is doing an amazing thing. Those things I feared which kept my eyes open even passed the point of tired are gone. I no longer have to worry about birthing my book child: Etched. She has been birthed. The labor and delivery were both rough and at times the pain (emotional) was excruciating but it’s over and as with a real child birth my brain has been anesthetized; I don’t really (well ok, a little) remember.

I remember because of some of the human spirits I encountered along my Etched journey. Some, because they have not been able to get to the place where their dreams are yet realized, are angry and a tad (OK some more than a tad) bitter. These ‘spirits’ have been the hardest ones to deal with on this journey. I, because I’m sensitive (yes I am) couldn’t understand why they couldn’t do what I would have done—embrace them on the success of their journey and celebrate with them and hope that when my turn came they would join me in my celebration. I can now say, that, as with all things that are painful, I’ve confronted these angry ‘spirits’ and because they can’t compare to the feel of walking in a warm summer’s rain I’ve had to learn to love them ‘differently’. Loving ‘differently’ is just what is says. You love them but not the way you do those persons that embrace you and thank God for you that you’ve seen a dream come to fruition.

In loving ‘differently’ you don’t allow your heart to hurt when they are less than loving. You pray for them and love them as you do the person on the other side of the world. You don’t wish them hurt, harm or danger but you also don’t bring them into your most trusted or sacred circle because you already know the energy they are going to bring. You also know that your precious sacred circle goin’ be a square, triangle, hexagon or something other than what you started out with when they get done. Not one to keep reshaping my circle I’ve accepted that there are some persons that just aren’t to be gathered close to my bosom.

However that was not the case on Friday, March 11, 2011 when I was granted a major honor. The Barbados Government Offices here in New York City sponsored a book launch/reading/signing and reception in my honor for my debut novel Etched. On that night almost 100 friends, family and colleagues (those I can trust to let my circle remain a circle) gathered to help me celebrate.

There aren’t enough words to adequately convey the depth of gratitude and love that I felt then and am still feeling now. Ms. Linda Watson-Lorde, Cultural and Community Affairs Officer, Consulate General of Barbados, the Honorable Consulate General, Lennox Price and the staff of the Barbados Government Office at New York welcomed my family, friends, and colleagues with great Bajan aplomb.

My Bajan heart is still rejoicing (actually its really jumping up and down) whenever a memory crosses my mind of that evening. Many people (Hollywood, celebrities and regular everyday folk; like you and I) give credence and reverence to an event by the color of the carpet that’s rolled out to meet the arriving guest at premiers and special events. That carpet is usually red and is the mark/symbol of wealth, elegance and sophistication.

Well I must say that there was no red carpet at this affair. We, Bajans, did better than that. We took it up another notch. We searched the color palette and knew there were but a few colors that would or could suffice. The carpet for this event would be the best and with the boldest colors. It would be blue and gold with the interspersing of a black broken trident (The colors of the Barbadian flag with its broken trident). Blue symbolizes the sea and sky of Barbados; Gold symbolizes the sands of Barbados and the broken trident – the trident of the mythical sea god: Neptune. The trident is broken to represent Barbados’ break from Britain…what better colors for to welcome guest and Bajans alike.

I’m also proud to add that this amazing flag was designed by my brother’s Godfather the Late Mr. Grantley Prescod—a great and humble Barbadian. I can’t mention his name and not mention that he was also a teacher at Parkinson Memorial Secondary School where and both the Honorable Consulate General, Lennox Price and I went to school.

The evening was a resounding success and that’s not just my humble opinion. For those of you in attendance thank you from the bottom of my heart. For those of you whom life threw unexpected curve balls and you were unable to make it…you were missed.

Excerpt read at the book launch:

I looks at Orpah, dat be she name, and she not smiling no more. I suh, “Orpah, yuh not be happy fer meh and ‘Lasses?”

She suh, “I be mighty happy fer yuh, but I nots be happy fer meh. Massa Livingston him suh dat I gots to cabin wid de nigger Tember dat dem bring from Beaufort.”

“Tember? Beaufort? Yuh nots want to be wid him?”

“I wants muh own mans.”

“But yuh suh him solt way a long time. So who be Tember?”

“Tember him be big big nigger from Beaufort in the Low Country.”

“So wat dat mek him… not good nigger mans?”

“Him nigger mans and mayhaps him is a good nigger mans, but him been solt and solt so many times dat him not have skin left on him fer brand?”

“Brand?”

“Yuh sure yuh nigger? Yuh not know’ds ‘bout branding?”

“I be nigger plenty, but I only been on Beauford Plantation and all him slave be on him plantation since ‘fore I be born. So I not know’ds ‘bout no branding.”

Orpah she look at meh and she suh, “Dem dat know’d Tember from long time suh dat him suh ‘fore dem solt him to Massa Litchfield, dat him be on plenty different plantation and ‘fore dat him come from a place call Barbados, and it be thar dat dem furst season him to be fine plantation nigger. Tember him suh dat him be in Barbados fer almost two years. I not know’d way Barbados be but him not born thar. Him be born in Africa. Him tolt dem dat him be from Gambia. I not know’d way that be either but to mek him good slave dem tek him to dis Barbados place furst so dem can mek him know’d how to be a good nigger and wuk on a plantation. Him suh dat de white mans call wat dem to do to niggers dem bring from Africa and tek to Barbados ‘seasoning’.

“It be thar way dem furst brand him. Wen dem brand nigger, de mark suh dat nigger ‘long to de one dat brand dem. Massa Litchfield him got brand. Him brand him new niggers so dat be why dem look fer skin on Tember dat not be got brand and dem brand him. Massa Litchfield him brand be big mark like stick standing and stick laying down. Dem got name fer it but I not know’d wat de name be. Brand be mek from iron and dem put it in de fire ‘till it turn red and wen it be red, den dem put it on nigger. Nigger be brand den.”

“But, Orpah, nun of dat be him fault. Him jis’t nigger and slave like we be.”

“Dat be true but dem bruk him spirit. Tember be nigger man widout spirit. Him jis’t do. Him never ever tink dat someday tings be different. Dem dun season him good. Tember be de best ‘sample of seasoning a nigger. Tember him wid him talking different-self be dead inside. Him rut wen dem suh rut, and him do him best to mek pickney. Dem suh dat wen him mek de pickney, him be like white mans.”

“How dat be? Him be nigger.”

“Him be like white mans dat mek pickney wid nigger womans ‘cause him never look at de pickney. It be like de pickney not be him own. I not wants to mek pickney fer no mans and him not tek one look at de pickney. It be him pickney and him ought to look at de lil’ pickney dat be him own.”

I not know’d wat to suh to Orpah so I jis’t bends muh head and I go back to muh cotton picking. Orpah she stop talking and she go back to picking de cotton too. I not no more talk or try to mek she talk ‘cause she start back crying wen she dun talk ‘bout Tember, and now she crying she stay ‘crying. Wen it be time fer we to go to de yard, she try to mek herself not cry no more and suh, “I nots want to cabin wid Tember.”

I nots know’d wat to suh so I suh, “Mayhaps it nots be so bad. Mayhaps Tember not want to cabin wid yuh and so de two of yuh be happy ‘cause yuh not like one another and so yuh jis’t gots to get through night to morning.”

“It not be dat way. Massa Livingston put meh to cabin wid Tember so Tember can mek pickney wid meh. Dem suh dat Tember good fer mek pickney. Bruk spirit man not be able to mek good pickney. Good pickney need whole spirit and him spirit it bruk.”

It has been said that a picture speaks a thousand words so I’ll stop here and let these pictures do the rest of the talking.

Book cake by: Temika Johnson - http://www.bakersreality.com/ or 646 667 8310 or Orders@BakersReality.com