Jamaica College Old Boys: Personality Profile

I have always felt that single sex schools in Jamaica are responsible for forming the characters of their students. It's such a truism at home that it's one of the reasons people will ask "which high school did you go to?" when they meet you for the first time. They ask because they're trying to resolve your behaviour with their notions of how graduates of certain schools are supposed to behave.

In Jamaica, your former high school will be more important than the university you graduated from (Colonialism?).

Is this the new group-think?

Tonight, I've decided to talk about Jamaica College (JC) Old Boys. There are two types: the beta male, and the closet homesexual*.



One famous beta male JC old boy is former Jamaican Prime Minister Michael Manley, whose father is national hero Norman Washington Manley. A notorious philanderer who was once caught in bed with his best friend's wife. His biography (LEVI, Darrell E.: Michael Manley: The Making of a Leader. 1989.) makes an interesting read, because most of it is full of sex talk, which I love.

For the most part, JC old boys are very shy, even though they are articulate, opinionated and exude confidence. Because they are not good at introspecting, and because they have an innate (if not misguided) sense of superiority, they don't realise that people misunderstand them because they refuse to express their thoughts and feelings (emotions). In lay terms, this is called stage fright, or performance anxiety. Their sensitivity, however, makes them good photographers and performance artists, because they can express their desires and passions through an external medium.

JC old boys don't necessarily guard their feelings, as they tend to be emotionally raw. Instead, they haven't learnt how to say what they feel so men and women tend to judge them superficially, and ignore their deeper qualities. In this way, these old boys appear to be womanisers but this is misunderstood. In actuality, women are attracted to their sensitivity and shyness and tend to approach them sexually. Since they are generous and compassionate people, they will give into the sexual demands of adoring females with the intention of satisfying the woman's lust.

JC old boys strive to come out of their shyness, if only to express their feelings for the one special woman they meet. Trouble is, they tend to fall into relationships with persons they don't really care about (because of their compassionate nature) and pine away in self-pity when the object of their desire slips away.

Closet homosexuals are another breed. They bear many testosterone markers but their manner and their interests are remarkably feminine. Given the anti-gay nature of Jamaican society, these men usually find themselves at odds with where they want to be and where they are. They believe that they feel rejection from society, but the rejection is internal and is directed towards their own sexuality. They are usually loved by women, but they unwittingly (if not deliberately) go to great lengths to make the woman reject or lose her attraction for them.

These angst-ridden closet homosexuals cannot "come out" without adopting a completely new identity or new life in exile totally isolated from their past. It's a very sorry state of affairs.

Overall, beta male JC boys are rough around the edges and earthy, which gives them that rawness that makes them attractive. As for the closet homosexual set, I've met JC old boys who knew more about designer brands and (feminine) grooming than the average woman.

My hope for JC old boys is that they will find much more success and happiness by taking the risks to form truly intimate relationships.

*Shaggy's girl is not homophobic, and does not support anti-gay sentiments. Other people's sexuality is none of my business.

The Poetry of Tara Abrahams-Clivio

I was highly amused when Mrs. Clivio, mother of 5, let on that she had actually studied journalism in the United States. Apparently, the Jamaica Observer is letting her write this column as a hobby. Her husband (photo removed at Mrs. Clivio's request) is Roberto Clivio. He is a Harvard graduate, and managing director of West Indies Home Contractors Infrastructure Limited.

Nice choice of wife, Roberto. She's obsessed with exercising and belongs to the good looking "Mona dam set". The set is comprised of quite a few influential people, considering that a Russian go-go dancer was trying to get her work permit renewed by jogging topless at the dam.



Back to Mrs. Clivio. It's good that she exercises regularly. Women should take better care of their bodies, especially after having 5 children. However, I should note that for a woman who describes herself as a "upper St. Andrew woman" (what the hell does that mean?) she lacks a sense of sophistication. Probably that's because sophistication and true beauty demand a keen intellect, and a self-awareness that she doesn't have. If she were a real upper middle class woman, she wouldn't be on the bus in London dragging her young baby with her. I know she would never be caught dead taking the bus in Jamaica because it would bring her too close to her true heritage. Again, she's literate, but not very sensible.

Before exhibiting her literature, I note Mrs. Clivio's comments on racism and feminism. I might be mistaken, but I think she believes it's appropriate to discuss dark-skinned people as "black", while ignoring the fact that she herself is of African heritage. See the image of her father below. Unless he reverse permed his hair, I would say that that is a black man. I wonder if Mrs. Clivio realises that she is also black? I note here that she is referring to blacks as "dark-skinned people" and not as people of African heritage. It's amusing that a black woman like this seeks to align herself with her neighbourhood and to ignore the greater good in the process.



She may also accept chauvinistic behaviour, because her role model is her own husband, who has no qualms about talking to her as if she were a prostitute. Well done, for the daughter of a Rhodes Scholar and influential member of the media.

Racism and chauvinism are two topics I try not to ponder on. I look at successful blacks and note that they very rarely pay much attention to the racial injustices they may have experienced: they quite simply "just get on with it." Likewise, when I ask women who have made achievements in a male-dominated business world if they were ever faced with chauvinism, they usually say yes, but had found a way around any obstacles and had left those chauvinists in the dust. Becoming too preoccupied with your race or your sex and their respective histories can quite simply be a distraction from the business at hand, "getting ahead".

I see, so best way to address racism, is to ignore the problem and deny that it exists instead of confronting it head on. In other words, defending human rights is a waste of time. Okay, I got it. No wonder we still have women in Jamaica bleaching their skin. I can't believe this garbage gets printed.

As for chauvinism, Mrs. Clivio's solution is to ask her husband for his "expert" opinion on the position of women in society. No wonder she is running for her life at the Mona dam every morning.

When I investigated [chauvinism] with my [husband], he explained that men often think "talking to women is a waste of time". Based on the premise that not all men are gay, I suggested that this might limit men's options somewhat, "Oh no, you can always pay for that!" he explained.

I wonder why she bothered to get an education. She's clearly not using it.

The first paragraphs of most of her columns in the Jamaica Observer bear a striking resemblance to each other, and for that matter, to fake, bargain-bin literature. Noteworthy is that the only comment (outside of the Observer) I could find about her writing style referred exclusively to her hot body. Such shallow comments can't be helped. After all, who cares about the quality of her writing as long as her physical features conform to the pre-defined standard?

P.S. - Comment from Tara by E-mail: Found your "rant" by accident and ironically also found your site was linked to the "Bloggers code of ethics" you should read it some time. Without wasting much time I would very much appreciate it if you would please remove photo of one of my three children from your blog.

Tara Clivio

P.P.S. - This is by far the most intelligent comment I've received so far on this blog. Of course I read the Blogger's Code of Ethics, [expletive deleted]. Did you read my disclaimer? Perhaps you should see the Wizard for some "brains", like the Scarecrow in the Wizard of Oz.

Tara's Poetry

So there I was driving "over the hill" to get home after a long day's work. It was already dark and as my small hatch-back car hooted up the hill I began to realise that something was not right: I had a flat. I pulled over to the side of the road and thought about what to do. It had become dark and although I knew I could, I really did not feel like changing my tyre. I picked up my first cellular phone, the kind you rented from Cable and Wireless, and called my big brother, who was always there for me in my times of need. Surely, he would again come to my rescue.

April 21, 2005


Time stood still for a terrible moment. There I was standing in the fourth form corridor, in my hands was a bucket, coming out of the bucket was a large splash of water, and in front of me was my physics teacher. If I could have, I would have pulled the water back into the bucket but it was too late. I almost could not believe what I had done. I had gone too far. The water hit the teacher solidly. He stood before me with his drenched shirt and the jokes we had been sharing all seemed to evaporate. I knew I was, as they say, "up a creek"!

May 5, 2005


It was slightly awkward. A small-bodied upper St Andrew woman [herself] in white capris and bright green shirt with green ballet slippers to match; approaching her was a large black woman, complete with a scar on her face and a well-worn and torn orange shirt. The robust woman was gyrating and having a whale of a time. "You having a good time?" I asked with my best "please don't stab me" face. As she reluctantly turned to me she spoke enthusiastically in authentic Jamaican. Only problem is, I have no idea what she said!

June 2, 2005

The phone rang. It was a frustrated neighbour reporting that my "adopted" dog was on the street again. It was embarrassing, to say the least, that there have been repeated incidents with my dogs getting out - a carelessness that has cost me dearly.

June 16, 2005


"Hey, Bolt and Wignall, the colt and the signal, the Beckford jumped over the moon, the little Veronica laughed to see such sport and the Asafa ran away with the record".

June 23, 2005


There was little doubt in my mind that she would grow up to be prime minister. She introduced herself with great confidence, stressing all of the five syllables of her name with such clarity and enthusiasm that it was not a name you would easily forget. Her personality matched her name; slightly larger than life and exuding confidence and enthusiasm.

June 30, 2005


Global warming was something environmentalists worried about, discussed on the Discovery Channel and the rest of us thought of as another one of those scientific theories that might well change in a few years. Yet chances are that if you have stepped outside in the last few days, you may well believe in global warming.

July 28, 2005


On hearing I was Jamaican a woman quickly says, "I'm planning to migrate to Barbados." The comment took me by surprise. After all I was in London, the place where West Indians have traditionally flocked to, not vice versa. I raise my eyebrows at this Englishwoman and ask, "Why?" In the Queen's English she informs me that Barbados has one of the highest literacy rates in the world, and that by comparison the English education system is a disaster, not to mention the health system, and she concludes that England is going down the drain.

August 18, 2005

The Sultan and the Malaysian reporter

So, the Sultan of Brunei got married to a pretty Malaysian news reporter. Talk about a case of being in the right place at the right time. Being visible and mobile, she was able to find herself in a position where a desirable partner would see her and find her desirable.

It was love at first sight for Brunei's ruler Sultan Hassanal Bolkiah when he spotted the young Malaysian woman who has reportedly become his second wife, a newspaper report said yesterday. The 58-year-old head of the oil-rich state married 26-year-old former Malaysian television journalist Azrinaz Mazhar Hakim, pictured, in a private ceremony in Kuala Lumpur on Friday night.

Is there such a thing as love at first sight? Or is this a case of a powerful man getting what he wants? At least she wasn't an airhead former pageant freak, but an award-winning journalist. This puts a positive dent in my theory but it's as much of a fairytale as the story about Mara.

I think that was probably the reasoning of those beauty pageant freaks. They groom themselves well, get in the public eye, and hopefully they get to meet good prospects for marriage.

I realise that it's not the substance of the woman that makes her a potentially good partner for marriage. It's basically who sees her and wants to be with her. That means, a perfectly good woman who is not adequately visible may miss out on the opportunity to meet a good partner, while someone else who is just "normal" may just accidentally meet someone exceptional.

It's weird, that these stories... Mara, Azrinaz... only serve to confirm the notion that storybook endings and romances exist. How are people to focus on "reality" when we see these experiences swirling around in the news? A Sultan marries a television reporter. Prince Albert having a child with a Togolese woman. An Ozzie lawyer becomes a crown princess of Denmark. And about a zillion other examples.

Love at first sight. I used to say over and over to myself: "things like this don't happen to me". I don't even have a boyfriend. So here I am living vicariously and slowly creating unrealistic expectations of what prince charming should be like.

Sexy Ugly: Chris Dehring

I have a crush on Chris Dehring. This is how I know I'm homesick. Chris Dehring is the Managing Director and Chief Executive Officer of Windies World Cup 2007, the West Indies Cricket Board's (WICB) operating entity for the management and execution of the ICC Cricket World Cup in 2007.

I have always had this fantasy about doing it with him.

The Jamaica Observer's Tatler reported in March 2005 that he was set to take his second romp down the aisle come June.

Tatler doesn't know what the hell he's talking about. Alicia, whoever she is, looks like she could be his twin sister.

Generation Next Week

So, it's been a week since I wrote about my attempt at reviving the past.

I managed to catch up with an old acquaintance, but nothing has really changed.

People are just people, and I guess it's not natural to engage with anyone or anything that is not right in front of you. All the Jamaican friends I've had managed to drop off the radar because they couldn't write/e-mail/telephone consistently. I guess it's easier to focus on what's right in front of you. I miss them a lot, and I wish that we had kept in closer contact, but that's just the way it is.

It took my own guardian 3 years before she even wrote me a letter, and another year to write an e-mail.

I became a former Jamaican because I wanted to be forgotten as the person I was when I left home. I wanted to start afresh and build a new history, new achievements (conquests). Thing is, if I do return, people will only remember the last thing I did before I left, and that may or may not be a good thing.

The last thing I remember doing before I left Jamaica was having sex with five of my ex-boyfriends. That's okay, because it was more of a private thing. But what about other people--my former classmates, people I went to church with, people I had crushes on, people I compromised my values with? My first boyfriend (yuck!!). That would be a complete scandal by itself.

Imagine someone remarking on how mature I've become and thinking that's funny. Like, isn't that what's supposed to happen when you've lived on your own for a decade?

I'm still undecided about whether I should satisfy my curiousity with a visit. I mean last week's phonecall revealed an old crush, but this guy has moved on with his life, has a girlfriend, and may be about to start a family.

I promise I won't do anything ridiculous like that again.

Dr. Terrelonge

Recently, someone I haven't spoken to in ages has got married. It was featured in the Jamaica Gleaner. I know Calvin! I was at kiddies camp with him once, like, just the other day. He was always such a very kind person. One of the "good guys". Very sensitive, mature, and deep. One of his ex-girlfriends went to my church, and I think she must be kicking herself in the head right now. I wonder where she is?

I remember Calvin telling me that he was studying medical technology at NCU. Right. He hadn't started to study medicine as yet. That must have been later.

It's good to know that he married a nice, homely girl who matches him professionally. So much for my theories, but I note that they had been dating for 9 years, so no whirlwind romance for them.

Dr. Calvin Terrelonge and Dr. Wezyann Gayle were married on May 8 at the Andrews Seventh Day Adventist Church with the reception at the Hilton Hotel in Kingston. The officiating minister was the bride's father, Pastor Wezley Gayle along with four other officiating ministers.


Have a good life Calvin.

Lots of love from,

Shaggy's girl

A woman with no personality

This rant is about a person I know, who embodies the very soul of the Jamaican middle-class.

She has no personality. That is, she has no defined concept of herself. As a consequence, she has no values, no principles. She is a clean slate. It sounds like a harsh statement to make about someone I care about, but I am amazed that it is actually possible for someone to be completely devoid of a sense of identity.

Instance 1
This girl is listening to a group of crass Jamaicans criticise me for being "stuck up" . She listens, and nods, and smiles as they say mean things about me. At the top of their lungs, much to the amusement of everyone in earshot. No one at this point is on my side, or even tries to understand my point of view.

Instance 2
We are having dinner with a male friend, who is desperately trying (and dismally failing) to enter the upper echelons of Jamaican society. He tells me that I do not know how to tell when a man is playing me, and she pipes in with, "yes, Shaggy's girl has a split personality". And goes on to pontificate. Anyway, my aristocrat-wannabe male friend says, I only use a limited set of criteria for separating the sheep from the goats so I can get played easily. Two days earlier, he made a rather juvenile attempt to signal his desire to have sexual intercourse with me. I asked him to stop. Which self-respecting woman sleeps with a man who puts her down in public?.

Instance 3
Consistently, she makes dramatic changes in her tone, facial expression and body language when a good-looking male walks within 2 m of where she is standing. Even if she is in mid-sentence. It happens without fail. It has no effect of course, and she's completely oblivious to the fact that it is actually ridiculous.

Instance 4
It is extremely difficult to have a proper conversation with her, without tracking back and explaining everything in detail. Then, she still doesn't get it, and asks lots and lots of questions that cannot be answered.

Instance 5
In her early 30's, she claims to be a virgin, in the same way that most Jamaican middle class girls do. (I know she is not telling the truth because I met her ex-boyfriend by accident). They deny they've ever been in a relationship and then deny they've ever had sexual intercourse. Why? They're not married, and sex would make them "bad girls" who are "loose" and "nasty". Of course that doesn't stop them from fawning over males to get attention.

For the record, girls who say they're virgins have more sex than self-confessed harlots like Shaggy's girl.

My friend has a good heart but without a concrete sense of self, and her place in the world, she cannot have values, principles, or even dreams. This is more crucial if one lives in exile, as she does.

How can she understand that Shaggy's girl is a cultivated young woman who was being viciously attacked by Jamaican vultures, who have no personal pride, sense of shame, and who were plain envious? How can she understand that the aristocrat wannabe in the restaurant was angry with me because I refused to sleep with him? How will she know when people are trying to befriend her, as opposed to attacking the very foundation of her self?

Without values to uphold or principles to defend, she is just a mindless consumer.

I explained these things to her, but she still didn't get it.

Generation Next Grows Up

Let us Blog.

I bumped into an old acquaintance on the web. I had googled his name to see what would come up. I had been doing that all week: trying to remember the people I went to UWI with, who are not my friends now and typing their names into Google. I do weird things when I get homesick.

My search turned up two names. One is a beautiful, feisty, petite woman who is now working as a consultant with JAMPRO. She had been in the Netherlands studying. I tried to contact her through Ackee.com, but her e-mail address bounced. I was relieved, because I actually had second thoughts about contacting her right after sending the e-mail.

As for the other name, that of my old acquaintance, I was so curious about him that I called him. I had a very vivid image of him, but he couldn't remember me.

It's funny how people make an impression on you and you hardly have the same impact on them. I wish that if someone thought about me and was curious enough, that they'd pick up the telephone and call me.

Messed up woman

I spoke with a friend of mine tonight on MSN...just catching up with what's happening in JM. She reminded that she is a "have" (as opposed to a "have-not"), and that she is a trailblazer who does her own thing.

I'll say that this is a girl who talks about other people's private business (including mine), in order to make friends with the hoity toity Jamaican pseudo-aristocracy. She ran back to Jamaica from exile because she didn't know how to fit into a foreign culture where people judge her character and her hard work. The prospect of easy fame and effortless popularity in Jamaica was too seductive.

Problem is, she's still having sex with her ex-boyfriend who beat the shyte out of her just two months ago. I remember receiving a frantic phonecall from a frightened 32-year-old woman, who was attacked by her Jamaican boyfriend, who was mad at her because she refused to support him. I asked her to go to the police. I thought that this would discourage her from staying with him. I can't remember her response.

I supported her, and I tried to encourage her to pull herself together and start over. To not be the victim.

She ranted that many men in her community were rejoicing over the fact that she was humbled in the sight of all men. That her man had done them a big favour by putting her in her place. She was too powerful.

I congratulated her on having done well for herself in the time that she moved back to Jamaica, and for renewing her commitment to her nation. I encouraged her to keep going, and to hold her head high because she was doing what was right and good.

A week later, she told me she was calling the guy who beat her. He responded with insults: "I never said I wanted to talk to you". A week after that, they were having sex because she didn't want to "do without". He was her "nookie supply".

It's none of my business. But anyway, I asked her to leave him alone. To stop going back to him.

She said she did, but a week later, she was dating new men and sleeping with the guy who beat her up.

Tonight, I'm ranting because I now get a lecture on a book called "the art of seduction". It's a pedantic compilation of anti-social utterances by a borderline psychopath who has a cult following of mindless drones. She says "this is good reading" and that the guy is a "thinker".

It makes sense that she's studying the art of seduction from a man's perspective. A man's instructions on how to seduce women. Hmmm... A handbook for daily living? What happened to respect for human nature and individuality? Why the desperate need to control other people?

I adore men. I have met many beautiful, intelligent, and sensitive men. That is why I do not hesitate to write about the dumbass shitheads that I meet. They are the exceptions for me, not the rule, even though I have been in abusive relationships before.

The problem with my friend is that she has already pronounced that all the good Jamaican men are married with girlfriends and babies on the side. So instead of searching for a sweetie-pie, she will keep going back to the one who treats her like crap. The rationale: "I can get nookie without making the effort to socialise". That's Lazy.

It's the same kind of psychologically regressive behaviour that causes sophisticated, financially stable, educated woman to go back to their unemployed, philandering boyfriends.

I have a great deal of sympathy for women in abusive relationships, and there are so many women who can't get out of such relationships. Out of respect for the women who have no personal power, no escape plan, and children to nurture, we educated, pampered women should not disrespect their plight by staying with men who put us down.

The married man in my soap saga is one such personal example. It doesn't matter that his wife and he discussed the idea of his having extra-marital sex. The fact is that she was not a powerful woman in her own right, and she depended on him for financial support. How could she say "no"? By hanging out with him, I was affirming his power over her and reducing her options. Luckily for her, she realised that she had to get herself an education.

With financial, social and personal freedom comes the responsibility to take care of ourselves and to look out for the well-being of others.

Don't date married men...my soap saga

Shaggy's girl met a strange married person once. He told me he was 36, but looked at least 53. He had been married for 15 years, and his wife had four children. Tall, rather round in the middle, with a very round face that looked aged because his features just popped out of it. I have nothing against plus sized men, of course, but this one looked more like a pale, pop-out version of Don Creary.

He said that he had only ever had sex with his wife, and that he wanted to know what it would be like to have sex with another woman. Plus, he said that he had already discussed the issue with her (she had had other sex partners before they got married) and she said it was okay. I guess he resented her for having had a sex life before him. Is this a guy thing? Being freaky, I offered to help.

It didn't quite work out as we would have liked because I wasn't attracted to him. That means, I wouldn't let him touch me. So, no sex or intimate anything.

To make matters worse, his wife was stalking him. She only let him out of the house with train fare.

Then, he didn't have the confidence to make an advance, so we never had sex at all. (Thank goodness). I dumped him because he was just too pathetic. That, plus I didn't want to be seen with an ugly, budget-restricted married man whose wife is controlling his every move.

Day 1
Well, first I was almost attacked at a cocktail party by a rather ugly white girl who wanted to know how we met. She either attacked me because she guessed what I was up to, or she was mad because her husband and her friend's husband were salivating over me. Now they were hot.

Our first night was crazy. I vomited my guts out because I hadn't taken my hormone/anti-nausea meds at the right time. How romantic. He said he was nervous, so he didn't touch me.

I watched him undress, and I decided I wasn't attracted to him at all. A guy must have brains plus a decent body, like Ax. I shouldn't be the only one who's paying attention to my appearance.


Days 4 - 10
Then, we started spending time together...going for walks in the park. Or he followed me around while I shopped. Then days later, his wife told him she was going to school to learn aromatherapy.

Shortly after that he would out to see me by train only, and he would only have the exact train fare. Once he followed me to get a tattoo, and he didn't have the correct change to take the train home, so I had to give him some money. Uh, huh.

A few days later, he offered to accompany me to my ceramics studio, where I was planning to package and ship some of my work overseas. At the train station, his wife called his mobile to ask him exactly where he was and exactly what he was doing. Goodness gracious.

Day 11
The final straw for this rather strange relationship was when he insisted on looking at my passport, and then he laughed at my passport picture. In public. That's when I just dropped him.

No sex has transpired at this point.

Day 13
His wife invites me to a dinner party, and then to a day of fun and games with the kids at a theme park on the Gold Coast. I said no. I knew she would freak out if she met me. I was about 1/3 her body size, twice as tall and far more exotic, with my dark skin.

When he realises that I want nothing to do with him, he sends me an e-mail requesting that I return his mobile phone (that he bought me as a gift). I asked him why he didn't try to sleep with me. He said he didn't know how to ask.

I kept the mobile phone. He can go to hell.

The alpha female and verbal abuse at work

Clare Longrigg,in an article about the alpha female, wrote that "she despises alpha males and they are terrified of her" because she "achievement is the focus of the alpha female's life".

Recently, a study conducted at "the universities of Aberdeen, Bristol, Edinburgh and Glasgow, women with high IQs are less likely to get married than those with lower ones; for each 16-point rise in a woman's IQ, her marriage prospects decrease by 40 per cent, because men fear they won't be in control."

Larissa Dubecki continued to write an interesting article playfully downplaying the theory in the context of my favourite spectator sport, F1.

It's true that a lot of men fear to be in control of the knowledge (of anything). They also fear not having the blind adoration of their women. They may especially fear women who won't sell their adoration at any cost.

But, you see, this is the beginning of an abusive relationship. It might look like a joke from the outside, but I would like to talk about the abusive behaviour that alpha females face in the workplace.

My experience with workplace abuse was firmly rooted in a general lack of shared (organisational) values, and under-qualified colleagues. It is widely accepted that women on the receiving end of this kind of behaviour are frequently recognized as leaders, bright, experienced, competent, and highly qualified. Another source says that "verbal abuse occurs because the abuser is in a reality where he feels he must overpower his victim to feel good about himself. Often he was abused as a child."

In truth, I'm a non-white, expatriate female from a developing country. So, maybe this asshole thought that I was desperate to hang on to my job. He would refuse to cooperate with me on important projects, or accept them but totally trash them later and blame me.

I ignored him for three months, and one day after my photo was published in the national press (recognising my work) he verbally attacked me.

I didn't act like a victim after that; instead I kept getting recognised for my work and accepted as a member of my new community. It's funny a white male comes to me, a black Jamaican woman and says "the problem is that you're too opinionated" and "trying to change things".

I'm trying to elevate the status and image of black women in my community. There are few of us here, and I want other black women to come here and not be treated with fear or hositility. What's the use being a well-respected Former Jamaican if you don't do that?

Instead of crying and complaining about it to other people, (that would only make him more popular), I decided to write about that here on my blog.

Workplace bullying is a form of violence against women. Say no to workplace bullying. Write blogs.

Jamaican self-censorship

This is an update (09/04) on the submission to Carnival of the Vanities, which was hosted on August 10, 2005.

The submitted post is entitled: "Former Miss Jamaica preggers...so what?"

I visted the site on which I had found some insider commentary on the story by Carimac students. I wanted to add some weight to my story by combining comments from a wide cross-section of society. On August 10, as I was checking the link, I found out that the post, and the comments were deleted from the blog site. Today (05/09/04), I went back to her site to check for posts and found that her blog was removed from the public listing/deleted.

When I stumbled upon her post, quite by accident I had let the blogger (I'll call her Ms. Carimac) know that I was very intrigued by the "news". I also revealed my blogger nickname and site address here on blogspot. Her response to my comment was to gloat about aiming to please.

She may be distressed to learn that her decision to remove herself from blogger intrigued me to learn more about her. I now know (a) her full name, (b) her e-mail address, (c) her MSN sign on, (d) her former high school, (e) her age and (f) her faculty at the UWI. All that information gleaned in less than 10 seconds of amazing Google. She has left digital footprints all over the web, which might not be a good thing because other people might do malicious things, like sending her spam e-mail. I have not posted her name because I feel that she is a victim of her desire to be in the spotlight. She also has a right to protect her good name, and to retract statements that she prefers not to have out in the open.

I would like to thank her for giving me very valuable scoop in the first place.

Ms. Carimac's action is an example of the Jamaican fear factor I was talking about. This is the same kind of mentality I described in an earlier column. Of course, I probably should have protected her identity but it would have seemed as if I had made up the entire thing.

People will whisper all sorts of things, but when it comes to taking responsibility for it, they're afraid they might fall out of favour with the people they are talking about. Is it that Ms. Carimac is afraid she won't be invited to yacht parties, or Bible study groups at church?

I found out that Ms. Carimac is a Christian who condemns strippers and strip clubs and emotionally blackmails her stripper classmates by taking the moral high ground.

It's interesting that she didn't think about the same moral high ground before spreading rumours on Ms. Beavers and one of her classmates on her website. Christians shouldn't be allowed to have convenient lapses in their values. That's what "loving thy neighbour" is all about.
I have this message for Miss Carimac, who has unwittingly learnt about the universal accessibility of the internet (and non-password protected websites):

If you have a blog with your own photo and real name on it, you should take responsibility for what you say. Don't remove your blog from the web. Own up to what you've said. If you write gossip about people who are in the news, didn't you expect that people would read your posts and then quote you? As a media studies student, you must be aware that anything you create electronically can be quoted. If not, then people who use your words without saying they were yours are in breach of copyright.

Do you remember that photo your friend stole from your website? You got upset with him for taking your copyrighted work and not giving you credit for it, and he apologised. This is what I did when I attributed the comment on your blog to you. I wasn't being malicious. Instead, I was giving you the credit for your comments instead of stealing them. You can't be selective in seeking after attention from what is posted on your blog. You have to embrace everything!

As you have probably learnt, being famous does have its drawbacks.

It doesn't matter anyhow, because the comments are saved forever on the Former Jamaican's blog.

Caveman is married

Just my luck. The Caveman is married, and has children. I learned this on Tuesday afternoon.

I was standing in my client's office and Caveman looked up at me and said, "Oh, Shaggy's girl. You look so beautiful." Of course I knew that. I had spent hours preening in front of the mirror and carefully selecting my clothes before meeting my client.

So, I scolded him quite loudly, to the cheers of his subordinates.

Later, as I was flip-flopping across the office floor, someone told me that Caveman would find that annoying so I should stop. I wanted to know if he had a wife and children, so I used this opportunity to find out:

Shaggy's girl: "You don't have children, right?"
Caveman: "Yes, I have children".
Shaggy's girl: "So you must be accustomed to the pitter patter of feet."
My client: "His wife is very good at raising the children so they don't pitter patter."

Uh, huh. Yes, I see. So then what was all that madness about? With his getting in the way when I was flirting with Herr Hottie, the tall, handsome German?

That now makes no sense. I am not interested in married men. Gross!!!

The Jamaica Observer has a matchmaking service

Is the Jamaica Observer serious? I am not sure what to make of this "Write me" letter to the editor.

Write me

Saturday, August 06, 2005

Dear Editor,

I wish to make friends through your widely read newspaper.
I am a Ghanaian civil servant and a student who would like to know more about other people's culture, studies and life, etc. My hobbies are reading, travel, culture, music, singing and watching movies.

Elvis Owusu Darko
PO Box 144 Breman Asikuma C/R Ghana, West Africa
ofack2002@yahoo.com

A month ago, I wrote an eloquent letter telling the Observer that they had failed to investigate the role of the Church of Scientology in the education of young Jamaicans. The Ministry of Education was hosting Bennetta Slaughter who was questioned in 1996 in a criminal investigation/civil suit over the circumstances surrounding the death of Lisa McPherson, a member of the Church. Jamaica is a Christian country, and as far as I remember society is intolerant of any new age or new-fangled mumbo-jumbo.




Of course, Jamaicans love anything that's imported, and gobble it up especially if it's free.

What happened to my letter? It apparently died a natural death.

No wonder this country is going to shyte. I feel stung that my letter, which was carefully researched and well-written, didn't make it on the "letters to the editor" page, but now I find some non-Jamaican opportunist trying to find his future wife through the newspaper.

Talk about bad taste.

I guess the rationale by the sub-editor of this section was that "if correspondence comes from outside of Jamaica, then it must mean our newspaper has an international reach". Interesting. I am more inclined to think that any opportunist with access to the internet can type "jamaica" and "newspaper" into Google's search engine, and come up with "Jamaica Observer".

Here's a related personal story. About 12 years ago, I was at church in Jamaica and I was sitting in a group discussion led by a very handsome Nigerian male who was studying at the Northern Caribbean University. Nice guy, eloquent. I never said a word to him. I didn't even know his name.

A week later, he sees me on my way to church and says: "Oh, I've missed you so much." Uh huh. Okay, so African men express themselves differently. I know that. But it was just weird because I had no idea who this person was, and he didn't know me.

A few weeks after that I was chatting with my friends and we heard that there were an increasing number of males of Nigerian origin who were on a campaign to marry off Jamaican women so they could obtain passports and stay in the country.

Like, who would want to immigrate to JM?

Cave man?

Today something really embarrassing happened to me, and I want to write it down here before I dismiss it as a mere flight of fancy.

I was visiting a client today and as I was wrapping up my meeting, I noticed a very beautiful German boy (tall, lanky, looks just like JFK Jr.) talking with some friends right across from me. I didn't stare at him, but we exchanged a momentary glance that of course didn't mean anything.

Anyway, the boss of my client must have seen this because he got up from his desk and distracted me from looking at the German hottie by asking me about my next visit.

He actually walked across the room and around me so that I had to turn around and face the wall away from Herr Hottie. Since he stood in front of me without saying anything, I asked him if he would miss me. (He said he would).

Finally, my client came to the rescue and I bid her and everyone farewell as I was leaving.

That was a rather embarrassing incident, as I can't remember the last time someone acted like a caveman for my sake.

My client's boss has never expressed romantic interest in me, but he did mention this week that I am "eye candy". I don't know if he's available, but he's cute.

I wonder what I would do if he came up to me and made a love proposal?

Carnival of the Vanities

The Bride and Prejudice Theory is linked on the Riding Sun's Carnival of the Vanities today.

The other posts were really interesting. It's a no-fuss, no-mess summary of current blog posts that don't pressure people to perform.

The 151st carnival will be hosted at Generic Confusion on August 10. Maybe I'll participate.

Up for grabs?

RIDING off into the sunrise with John.

I had found this picture in the Jamaica Gleaner's Flair section on July 25. Just to show that I do have a thing for men in their late 30's/early 40's.

Of course, I don't give a tosh about cycling for weight control. I saw this guy: John Foreman, and he is one delicious piece of cake. It must be the moustache or the way he looks so masculine and toned.

He's 41: right in my target age bracket for guys to settle down with. And he runs General Tool and Supply in Kingston, which means that he is down to earth and doesn't have that annoying upper middle class twang that annoys me so. I wonder if he would find me attractive? Don't be silly. Of course he would.

Sigh! He's highly likely to be married and unavailable.

I wish I were the freelance journalist covering that story: I would have shagged him rotten.

Maybe it's not too late to do some undercover work...