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Food Storyteller

The dream desert

Oh my brother, the Grenadian Spice Cake. Belly rumbling, mouth watering, a taste of floating in space that is filled with tropical spices.

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Storyteller

Neighbourooooo Wah Gwan

Neighbourooooo Wah Gwan

Ahh yes, step out into the sunshine, feel that heat hug you, smell that clear tropical air, it is a clear day, time to mellow out.

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Pics with verse Storyteller

Welcome to the Afternoon Sunshine

Welcome to the Afternoon Sunshine

Ahhh yes, nothing better for the soul than a little tropical sunshine, lots of colours and the sweet breeze coming off the ocean to cool you down. Its called Spice Isle peace.

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Pics with verse Storyteller

Good Morning Neighbours

Good Morning Neighbours

One of my favorite things to do was going to walk through the forest after a rainstorm. Ahhh the scent of the mud as my bare feet sink into its soft surface. The cold droplets of rain dripping off the leaves of the trees. The smell of mangos ripening somewhere in the bushes, The wings of birds flapping as they soar from tree to tree. The butterflies that float away when you shake the bushes. Then on the day when rain persisted, taking shelter under a large banana leaf while eating the yellow spotted fruit. Yes, boyhood days, full of adventure on that little island called the Isle of Spice

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Parts Dirty Immigrant Storyteller

The Brothers From the novel I am a Dirty Immigrant

Let me tell you about some of the encounters I had with the brothers. Though not as negatively profound, there still was an attitude of “you are not one of us”. One thing I learned real quick is that if a black man dates a white woman, some black men assume she is a “brother lover” so they did everything to conquer her.

In the fall of nineteen eighty-six, The Coal Miner’s Daughter and I were standing in line at the cafeteria of the school. One of the football players, Specs I will call him, decided to “Mac” on her. I guess he thought there was no better time to try. Hell, I was standing right there, so I guess he was trying to make a fool of me because he occasionally turned to his jock buddies laughing. They wanted to teach the immigrant how it was done. The second time he turned to his friends, The Coal Miner’s Daughter handed me the tray and walked off. He stopped talking to his friends turned around with this stupid grin on his face. “What time you want me to ……….,” he asked as he turned around and stopped dead in his tracks when he realized he was talking to my chest. I could see the disappointment in his eyes when he he saw that he was not looking into the chest he wanted to. “Is seven good for you?” I asked, then blew him a kiss. His glasses almost fell off his face as laughter filled the cafeteria as his friends dogged him.

I was called every name in the book by some of these gentlemen. African booty scratcher, dirty Jamaican, starving Ethiopian – of course none of the above applied because I am a frigging Spice Islander. I was not mad about the way they treated me. I knew that people who felt like they were being oppressed usually deflected their lack of security on others; been there, done that. Now you may derive from my tone that I am a little perturbed with the brothers. Well to a certain degree I am. Where the hell were they when a white president ordered the invasion of a black nation? Did they take to the streets? Did they express solidarity? As a matter of fact the army that invaded the island was sixty percent black. Now there is a perfect example of keeping people separated by culture. The only brother that showed interest in our plight was Harry Belafonte. Thank you my friend; it was the humane thing to do.  

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Pics with verse Storyteller

Day dreaming

Day dreaming

St Georges Grenada my Hometown, I woke up this morning to snow on the ground, its cold my skin feels a million small people are pulling on it. I guess its time to day dream again.