The Former Jamaican

Post script

2007-11-27T20:55:00.014+09:00

It has been about one year since I stopped making regular posts to this blog. I am not an ardent blogger, nor am I a person who is committed to forging networked relationships through the World Wide Web. I am just a woman who had two objectives. One was for that stupid cow to give up being one of the Jamaica Observer's regular columnists. The other objective was to get sucked up to by that arsehole-slash-bigotry specialist. All I had to do was to persist in writing vitriol and all my dreams were fulfilled. The only regret I have was that the gay Jamaican blogger gave up his blog right after I stopped writing here. If I could take something back, it would be that one thing. If you don't approve of "homosexuals", please go and K-ef yourself.

Every story has a twist, and mine gets funnier when the see-you-next-Tuesday slash bun-connoisseur-for-hire becomes a public servant. Literally, she has become a person who "works for you", complete with fake pearls and a ponytail. I remember sitting on the desk in my study and saying those words to myself, "Lisa works for me". A few months later, the slogan was "Vote For Lisa She Will Work For You". How delicious! I don't live in Jamaica anymore so I cannot enjoy ignoring her in her role as advocate of the chicken farmer in the New Uric Atomosphere. It would be a perfect story line for season 3 of Ugly Betty. I could never have dreamed this up.

Don't get me wrong. I grew up on a farm with goats, cows, pigeons, doves, ducks and chickens, and I drank fresh cow or goat milk every morning. Now, I enjoy my life as a barefooted housewife and mother in the countryside, surrounded by a lush forest, a lake, mountains, insects from outer space, and kilometre after kilometre of impossibly green grass.

The point I make is that we must never forget that if this woman could have achieved her objectives in life by whoring her way up a (real or imaginary) ladder of social power and public visibility (and try she did), we would never have seen her "distributing" chickens in the country. We would never have a belly laugh at her using rhetoric and lip gloss to distract the viewing public from her New Uric Plight. She would have been getting her bushy eyebrows plucked at Jencare Skin Farm at this very moment, giving indiscreet customers her look, you know, the one with a tone that says, "Who the raasclaat are you looking at, Bitch?!"

I envisioned a scenario in which the former Prime Minister assured her the Obeah Man's prophecies would come to fruition. Of course, it was an irresistible proposal, given that her own mother had taught her a little Obeah when she was growing up. Did she make sure to clarify that she would become "Member of Parliament in the administration of [the former Prime Minister]"?

Or, maybe she did some metaphysical backstabbing because she really needed the extra income and she knew that she would get a guaranteed paycheck every month regardless of whomever was in power, if she won a parliamentary seat. When times get tough, the upper cursed will take up chicken farming (or dog breeding as the case may be). No matter what I say about her choices, this woman has achieved her aims. And that is what I call a flawless victory. Congratulations. And thank goodness for Revlon foundation.

See you next Tuesday!!!

P.S. Dear Bruce, stop walking around with that juvenile grin on your face. This is not about you and the fulfillment of your quest for leadership. You've got a country to run, and at some point, you actually have to do it. You can't fake being a good leader, just as how your predecessor could not fake not being vulgar. There are a thousand jackasses out there who are willing to frig up and they would happily take your place. Remember all the things you said you wanted to change, all those years ago, when I was in high school? Well, you've got the power. Don't be a chicken.

P.P.S. Did anyone think it was funny how two guys who screwed Imani Duncan in the same calendar year were sitting at the same table, side by side?!! Notice the ring flashing on the husband's hand. The ex-boyfriend has the husband sitting on his right side, which means that he has control over the rapport between them. This is just as well, considering that the ex-boyfriend has put food on their tables. Lawks missis. I'm still a skeptic because if I know Jamaicans as well as I do, the proverbial shoe and its impeccably polished twin will self destruct in 5 seconds. Hark! I hear horgasms.

Here. Piggy. Piggy.

2007-09-07T23:23:00.000+09:00

The 2007 election results are final. So, don't quit your day job, bitch. And I say that in Dave Chappelle's tone of voice. But seriously, though, how does it feel to have gone down with the sinking ship of yet another Jamaican dictator?

Well, the "sinking ship" analogy was made by your opponent Peter Fakhourie. I thought that it was vulgar of Peter to call you a “fool, ediat, duppy, punk”. I mean, I don't think you're stupid at all, just misguided (if not desperate) in your attempt to find a new, reliable source of income that doesn't require you to go outdoors unless you really really want to.

Or, heaven forbid, you were trying to upstage your ex-husband/the mother of your ex-husband's new child by gaining a position of political power?

You must know that any action taken from a negative position has counterproductive results, because you project the emotional tone of the negative situation you're presently trying to avoid into all your future activities.

And here is the evidence of this fundamental philosophy of life, played out for the world to see.

Upstaged again, and in a much more profound manner, than the tribulations you were trying to overcome in the first place. The past 3 months have overshadowed the combined scandals of your airport fight, divorce, custody battle and subsequent steel hamburger concubineship. It's still 2007. I'm amazed that you've managed to destroy what's left of your dignity in such a short space of time.

Notice all those words that have been written about you. Check the adjectives, nouns and verbs written around your name. What are the connotations, and how can you make them go away? You'll have to perform one hundred good, press-worthy acts, and pray that bloggers out there will take notice, and write about your many good deeds. That may force these pages into oblivion.

It seems that you'll be handing out some chickens in South East St. Ann after all, and with minimum press attention. Maybe you'll finally learn that giving away something for nothing is what an altruistic spirit is supposed to embody.

This has been quite the reversal of fortune, I would say. If you hadn't jumped into this sinking ship, looking for a junior ministership to top up your monthly grooming/wardrobe expenses, you would have had a 3-month head start in finding the last man alive stupid enough to sign over his personal fortune to you in a pre-nuptial agreement.

Alright, I was reaching there, but you can hardly blame me for wanting to capitalise on your misfortunes.

You should try going offshore to further your personal and career ambitions (something tells me there's an overlap with these two). Oh, but you've thought of that already. You may have to trade being on Jamaican telly with living comfortably in obscurity.

How about a change of method? Let's remove the automatic press coverage you get thanks to your 14-year-old pageant title. Do you stand out on your own personal merits if you are some place where no-one recognises you?

If you can't think of anything, try moving to Mauritania. Wrap yourself from head to toe in black chiffon and cotton. Live in a commune with other women. Share a shower and toilet. Eat couscous and rice with your fingers. Prepare meals for men who are building real schools. Learn a language other than English. Stay there for an indefinite period. Get people to trust you, and like you for who you are. It might help you to build what us non-socialite folk call "character".

Who knows, your Prince might just find you.

Who knocked up Miss Jamaica 2006?

2007-03-24T17:59:00.000+09:00

Who's that man rubbing his crotch against Sara Lawrence's butt at the 2007 Air Jamaica Jazz and Blues Festival? These photos were published on Watever.com less than three months before the pregnancy was announced. (Is it just me, or is the sight of Sara's right breast just about to fall out of her top a bit gross?)

The ugly man with dark patches around his eyes is "John", a bank teller/band member. I was dubious at first when I got the links to these photos in my e-mail. After all, this guy could be Sara's therapist, her cousin, or even a brother. But apparently, the Jamaica Star spoke with Tina, John's girlfriend/the woman scorned.

I don't know what's worse, that Sara stooped so low as to steal Tina's ugly boyfriend (she might have done you a favour, girl) or that there may be more than one possible father of Sara's child.

"Tina, petite, beautiful, 33, but looks like 25, was involved with John, 29, bank teller by day, and member of a band by night, for about a year before she was aware that Sara was in the picture. The women were introduced and she was told by John at the time that Sara was his 'long-time friend.' The saga began last year in December. At that time, Tina was informed by John, her boyfriend at the time, that he had 'cheated on' her with Sara. He asked her to let them 'work it out' and she agreed. By the end of January, she claims she was informed by John, that the beauty queen was pregnant with his child. The nature of their 'friendship' was also made clear by photos she found on the Internet with the two together at Air Jamaica Jazz and Blues Festival."

I find it hard to believe that Sara would let John-the-bank-teller breed her. Apparently, the Jamaican public agrees. Here is what they're saying about Sara's vaginal pastimes:

At least 3 men were in Saras life in those few months of her reign, the last one who is also a big old married man, is apparantly the father. Now aint that something,

Saras baby father is a man she recently met, a married man with wife and children. Really for a role model, I find it all too disgusting!!

She was sleeping with [Micky Haughton-James] even during the contest, these prim and proper christian girls are the best!

An anonymous source (thank you very much!) sent me the links to the photos of John. It is alleged that this is the father of Sara's baby. However, from what I've been reading so far, just about any conscious, breathing, virile male could be the father. It's bizarre, don't you think?

At the time Sara announced her pregnancy, she was 12 weeks pregnant. Count back 12 weeks from March 15, 2007 and she just got pregnant a week or two before this photo was taken. Is it possible that Sara Lawrence, Miss Jamaica World, 2006, was sleeping with several men at the same time and doesn't know who her baby's father is?

What does Tatler mean by " we're giving thanks that you- know-who is not the father. I mean third strike!!!" Who is "you-know-who"?

I hope everyone is satisfied with at least one face. It would be nice to see a few others, so we can have a shortlist of candidates and maybe a competition as to who is the most eligible to pay child support for the next 21 years.

NEXT!

Sara Lawrence - Got Milked? Another Jamaican Whodunnit

2007-03-19T18:21:00.000+09:00

It seems that Sara Lawrence, Miss Jamaica World 2006 got exactly what she was looking for from the beauty pageant, albeit a little prematurely.

I wasn't there when she conceived the child, but I do know that contraceptives fail when you need them most. As a mother myself, who's had an extremely active sex life before marriage, I have to point out a few things:

1. Pregancies should be planned. This is so that the child is brought up in a loving environment by parents who are emotionally ready and financially capable of taking care of their children. Anything can go wrong in a pregnancy, and even well-prepared women end up spending a long time in post-natal care because of things that go wrong. I don't support the romantic notion of parents' struggle and hardship being good for the child in the long run. That's a load of BS.

2. Sara is an educated young woman so she should know that she doesn't need to have a baby to validate herself as a woman. Perhaps Charlotte Church's decision to announce her pregnancy (March 1, 2007) had some unexpected effects? Perhaps Sara felt that she would not receive a great deal of criticism from the public? Well, she is no Charlotte Church. Charlotte is a talented multi-millionaire, who is known for her rebellious, wild anti-role model behaviour. She was rich before she hit adolescence. She also has a career path laid out for her. Charlotte doesn't actually need a man to support her child. In fact, she doesn't need to go to school to get a good job to support a future family. Beauty pageants are about sexual competition among women. What are they competing for? A mate with the excellent combination of good looks and a never-ending stream of cash to support babies and a trophy wife's lifestyle. Obviously, her search for a good mate took priority over her own ability to support herself economically. (And, she found a virile one).

3. Age 22/23 is far too young for a woman to be having babies in our modern society. Unless Sara has a very very large trust fund, she should just enjoy delayed adulthood.

4. Sara is EXTREMELY lucky because whereas she got a baby, she might have been infected with a host of Sexually Transmitted Diseases, including HIV, instead. Why are young women so stupid?

5. I agree that she was irresponsible. Not because she got pregnant, but because of the timing and because she knew that she had obligations to fulfil. I don't think she would have planned for her pregnancy to coincide with her social and contractual obligations as a beauty queen. So, we assume that the pregnancy is not planned. If she was smart enough to put her studies at medical school on hold to fulfil the obligations of her reign, then she could have done the same for pregnancy. I don't see how winning a beauty pageant helps someone to graduate medical school. I doubt she would have had time for sex if she were busy cramming for exams.

6. I agree with Tamara Scott-Williams that the father of the child might be somewhat of a nincompoop. What kind of man allows his woman to face public criticism on her own? He doesn't need his privacy, although I'm sure that a lot of people know who he is. He needs to show that he is proud to be a father, enter the public view, and stand by her. This is one man who needs a plan. I hope he isn't "careless" or, god forbid, married.

I have always been against the Jamaican Beauty Pageant scene as pure hypocrisy when it comes to sex, especially given the stories I've heard of Lesbians going into semi-retirement to secure their crowns. Or other contestants who demand thousands of dollars from men just to go out on one date (false hair, massage, nails, dress and shoes). I don't know what Sara's level of emotional maturity is, but this incident should show us that young Jamaican women need role models who have done well for themselves over the course of a career or lifespan.

Sara's parents apparently approved of her decision to participate in the pageant. So, they shouldn't be criticising her now. As parents what they said in their public statement about her was also irresponsible. This is no time to be creating a rift with their daughter, who is emotionally vulnerable. Or, maybe they were hoping for a more well-heeled suitor? If the baby's father were Bill Gates or the Sultan of Brunei, we wouldn't have heard a peep out of Sara's parents.

This "young role model" thing just doesn't work. Do we really want more Jamaican young women to agree to have unprotected sex with their lovers because Sara Lawrence did it? "It's not that bad. She didn't get AIDS". How do you know that? I don't think that Sara's decision to have her baby is bad or good. It's just her choice.

However, she dragged the Jamaican Public into a discussion of her sex life by publishing a statement about her pregnancy on the World Wide Web. How could we not comment on the issue?

Never over Tara, the Inner City People's Princess

2006-12-17T19:21:00.000+09:00

After a long absence, Tara Abrahams-Clivio is back writing for the Jamaica Observer. I wonder if she's writing anything sensible? I would never put myself through the torture of trying to figure out what she's trying to say but I saw something that could not be ignored.

Recently, Mrs. Clivio wrote some poetry about the plight of inner city people. The title of her article should have been:

"A Vacca Foeda, on What she Thinks Life is Like in Jamaican Inner City Communities".

I wonder if she is planning to write anything else about the plight of innercity people? An epic text, detailing the grinding poverty of her compatriots. God knows they can't read or write to save themselves. Poor darlings, and they are so ambitious. The people of the inner city need Princess Tara, the Innercity People's Princess, to save them. Just one look at her pale skin will quench their thirst and satisfy their hunger. They will realise how poor and hopeless they are, and will stop wanting to leave the inner city where they don't deserve to be, but where they are anyway, sadly, because this is the only way Princess Tara can feel good about herself. I know she enjoyed her tour.

Here are some questions for you, Mrs. Clivio, to frame your epic text on the inner city:

1. Mrs. Clivio, have you ever sat down to have a talk with the 18-year-old girl who is living with her unemployed boyfriend in an inner city community, but who feels that she has no choice but to have unprotected sex with your white lawyer friend from foreign, on that day's issue of the Jamaica Gleaner, spread out on the floor of his office every evening after work so she can pay the rent? Would you offer her free coffee in your fancy uptown coffee shop? Or is it just a service you provide to potential clients who can afford it anyway?

2. Mrs. Clivio, have you ever used the facilities (bathroom, toilet, shower) in an inner city community home? No, not one in a Housing Trust housing scheme.

3. Mrs. Clivio, have you ever sat down in a poorly lit bar/restaurant in an inner city community and had yourself a lunch of fried chicken leg and white rice with ketchup gravy? Did you smell the stench of cigarrette smoke, Heinekin and rum? Did the sound of loud chatter and dominos clanging on the tables ring in your ears?

4. Mrs. Clivio, have you ever had a talented, educated young man living in the inner city make love to you, doggy style, on the bed he shares with his younger brother, with the roar of a rusted fan, the strong odor of cheap cologne, and music from Irie FM attacking your senses? Would you offer him a steak dinner if you heard his stomach growl after you rolled off the bed, with a wide grin on your face, exhausted from two back-to-back sessions of deep thrusting? It's a miracle that he has so much energy, you might think, because he's undernourished.

If you have never done any of the above things, Mrs. Clivio, you don't really know what life is like for people in the inner city. It means that when you write about the housing plight of people in the inner city, it is either out of embarrassment, or for lack of anything sensible to do with your time.

I would like to see what you write about inner city people after you've chewed and swallowed the oppressive need for a better life, and then felt it seeping out through your pores. What will you say after chronic depression, fear, shame, and low self-esteem send shockwaves of orgasms through your body?

Maybe then you will have the proper perspective.

Horsebreeding Hamburgers and a "See you Next Tuesday" of Steel

2006-08-10T13:58:00.000+09:00

This not a scandal, just a story.

I was amused to see the May-December romance between the gentleman and the young woman photographed in the press, and described as "blossoming". Seeing that I like older men myself, it should come as no surprise that I used to hang out with some close pals of his. Hang out, role-play, thorough "physical" examinations. To name a few delicious activities. Let me stop here.

Personal hygiene issues aside, the young woman was raised by a mother who studied metaphysics, and who used some of this esoteric knowledge to raise the young woman's social status. Good on you mother! It's not that the mother was money-hungry, it's just that she wanted the best for her daughter. I suggest that the rest of us dig up some of those metaphysical texts, and learn a thing or two.

Back to the young woman. It seems that metaphysical laws were not used effectively, or else she would have been able to keep her husband and child, and her dignity.

The cash prize must have run out a long time ago, and alimony payments may not be enough so, if her Beauty is the only marketable skill she can use to secure her future, and to care for her child, she should work hard to get her relationship legally endorsed.

I am saying this because even though I was in the abovementioned hook-ups for fun, they did offer to marry me within six months after we started fucking. Apparently, my blatant screwing around and my relative social "invisibility" didn't disqualify me for a ring. They were okay with it because, they said, they were too old to satisfy my monster libido anyway. I felt free enough to say "no" because my survivability didn't depend on marrying a man with loads of cash and an easily recognised name.

Given that I've "gone there" before, I'm offering the young woman some advice:

You've (reportedly) been with the gentleman since late 2005. For someone of your visibility, and his status, make sure that he is not still "romancing" you on the day of your first anniversary. You should be happily married. Older men don't "date" younger women. They fuck them, and then boast about it to their close friends, who clap them on the back with big chuckles, and then compare notes about the younger women they are also fucking. (Your toes would curl at what has been discussed in my presence).

You are a mother, so consider that if you are attached to someone who is old enough to be your father, then he knows that he is obliged to protect your highly public image and the welfare of your child by offering to marry you. It's a question of honour and respect for you as a person. I didn't mention "love" because I know that you're too practical for that.

He is aware of how his peers and your peers will see him, and you, and if by the end of 2006, you are not married, you should know that he doesn't hold you in high regard. I hope you are aware that no-one in Jamaica is as hypnotised by your physical beauty as you may think. You're not THAT pretty, and anyhow, being pretty can't immunise you from character assassination.

Every woman of class knows that the courtship is only legitimised by the announcement of an engagement. If you're going to show off your relationship to the public, it should be in reverse. You appear married, and then everyone learns about how you two hooked-up. No-one wants to see your relationships unfold in public. It's exhausting. Your marriage was exhausting, and the divorce was exhausting. We're forced to look at you in relation to "nothing special", and that's exhausting too.

As a self-styled expert in communication, you should know that attention to yourself is bad news for your clients, who might want discretion. Therefore, your professional competence is on display 24/7, in all aspects of your life. Look, you have already been blasted by people in Jamaica (Google yourself and your boyfriend in the same search string) who think that you are either:

(i) a well-dressed ornament,
(ii) a desperate and insecure old maid, or
(iii) a prostitute.

Now, if you can't manage your public image regarding your private affairs, how do you do your job? Potential clients will think your job is a joke when they read these opinions of you. As opposed to someone like Shaggy's Girl, whom readers are reluctant to recognise as being vile, ruthless, and whorish. There are people who, having read posts on my blog, are convinced that I've fabricated stories about my whorish behaviour to attack others. Take this as an example of how a Professional Communicator does her work.

As I said before, I do not have a moral position on prostitution, but I do believe that your public image is extremely important to you, and you would prefer for people to think that butter wouldn't melt in your mouth. That you're unapproachable.

For the record, prostitutes are the most guarded, and least approachable people on earth. This is because no-one dares to come near without displaying the proper credentials and an undertaking to PAY UP.

It's kind of sad that after entering the public eye so many years ago with such promise, that this young woman would sell herself short like this. I am really disappointed, and in a way, I feel I must take back some of the things I have said about her before.

I said that her life would be full of guarantees and promise, but now I realise that her position is precarious because of the artificial and transient pathway to success that she herself has taken. I bet she wishes she had stayed with that humble, ordinary nobody guy who was besotted with her. A true woman of class knows that she builds an enduring Empire from scratch, and chooses her partner wisely.

I pray that her acting classes in America have been put to good use in showing a brave face when the Horsebreeding Hamburger mounts her "See you Next Tuesday", one more time, in the usual manner. Ahh, the luxuries that Steel can afford a man in his twilight years.

At the end of the day, let this example teach us that women are worth more than our bodies. Let this post serve as congratulations to all the men who refuse to be manipulated by our bodies, but who are willing to embrace our Mind in love.

Spoilt pigs make tastier pork

2006-01-11T17:29:00.000+09:00

I found the answer to the question: "What will 2006 bring?"

The answer is: "Moving forward".

I got my wishes for 2005. Two of them relate to my purposes for writing this blog.

The third wish is the one I'll talk about here.

It has to do with the last piece of advice I received before I left Jamaica.

It was the statement that has more or less crippled me for the better part of a decade:

"If I introduced you to the people who played in my bridge club, they would be shocked to hear you speak, as a dark-skinned person. They have no concept that a black person can speak English".

Was this bullshit, or did I spend 20+ years living and studying in Jamaica only to be told that I had just hit my ceiling? Not a day passes when I don't remember this statement, which was meant as a 'compliment'.

I'm not angry with myself anymore for listening to that bigoted gatekeeping asshole. Now I think, "does it matter?" Let him keep it.

Of course, I've screamed at quite a few people on this blog on the way to drawing that conclusion.

I thought that it would be useless writing about perceived injustices in our society because writing wouldn't help them to repair. I've seen some of the subtle changes, though. The changes were made in my mind, in a perspective I never thought I would have ever achieved.

I've seen childhood heroes crash and burn, and social outcasts step out into the limelight. But I do not wish to keep on blogging a bonfire about the fallen heroes and heroines.

I believe that I've made my point with this blog, which is that our society has manufactured "mentors" for us. "Mentors" represent ideals that each of us supposedly can never reach. No matter who we are, our society has created a symbol of perfection for us that we can never attain.

Isn't it time to vandalise the social order? It's not working for us. Is now a good time to take a sledgehammer to the wall of falsehoods that have separated us from ourselves?

This is not necessarily me giving up blogging. After my last two-year break, I came back feistier than when I first started. Will I come back? And why?

I realised that I needed a shift_ in_my_perception. I got that, and now I'm using it as a tool for mapping a different version of my life. Life as if...

Closing doors is something I've always been too good at doing. This time, I'm opening the door. The posts archived on this blog represent the process of my perception shift.

Blessings, peace and love be unto everyone.

Too late for antifreeze, Jesu

2006-01-08T22:55:00.000+09:00

Alright...it's 2006. Tonight I stood dazed in my living room, shivering from the cold. Around my feet were chunks of ice that I tracked from the front door, and which were also falling off my trousers.

I channel-hopped for a few seconds and cursed at the fact that there was nothing on telly. Out of nowhere, the notion that "the world is still spinning", popped into my head. I acknowledged the thought with a mixture of nonchalance and trepidation. I decided that music would be a better choice. I went with the power of Snap!, and muted the TV so the Berlin Philarmonic Orchestra looked like they were playing "Rhythm is a Dancer".

I'm rambling. Hypothermia + Antihistamines do that.

To my recollection, this is the first year that I didn't prepare a set of resolutions. When I left university, I had mapped my entire life up until the time I would turn 26. Somehow, I expected (or vaguely hoped) that the universe would implode on itself after I'd worked through my "list of things to do before I turn 30".

When I was going to church an eternity ago, they promised that the world was going to end soon. The plan didn't work, so I made some new wishes. Those came true. This was too easy.

The universe still hasn't imploded, and I'm in quite a pickle.

Care Less

2006-01-04T10:15:00.000+09:00

The year 2005 has drawn to a close. I'd love to do a year in review, but I'm relaxing, and taking a break from what has been a very distracting hobby in 2005.

To ring in the New Year, I travelled half-way around the world to attend one of the largest street parties on the planet. Alone. As usual.

I'm not running out of posts...I'm just in an extended ragdoll pose, and getting out of my head for a while. I'm happy to report that nothing has happened. I have not got into trouble, have not had an adventure, and I haven't attended any of the usual parties.

In unrelated news, I saw L two days ago, as I was walking back to my hotel. He gave me the double-, triple-, fourth-, fifth-, and sixth-take as I sauntered past him.

I stared right at him as he stopped in his tracks. My eyes were obscured by sunglasses so he wasn't sure if it was really me. (All black women look alike, right?). We're not on speaking terms, so there is no way for him to know that I would be visiting his neck of the woods again. Whatever.

L is the man who deluded himself that we were having an affair, and then tried to blame it on me when his partner found out.

Happy New Year, everyone.

P.S. My deepest thanks to MadBull for comparing me to two of my role models: Dr. Carolyn Cooper (yes, she's sexy) and Wilmott Perkins. I would like to add quickly that I am nowhere near the calibre of these two remarkable people.

Being followed

2005-12-29T21:11:00.000+09:00

Stalkers have always featured somewhere in the story of my life. When I talk about these things, people either think I'm blowing things out of proportion or they think that I invited it.
I wonder why it is that people are so insensitive or blind to stalking. It is a form of violence against women, and victims don't usually get support until something terrible happens.

Chapter 1
The first one was the apprentice to a well-known Jamaican sculptor/painter who was a friend of my family's. Apparently, my "uncle" was sent copies of my school photo when I graduated 5th form. I was only 16, and I remember gettting a phonecall from some mumbling, drooling cretin who said that looking at my photo gave him an erection. Would I be kind enough to visit his house so that he could deflower me? He loved me, he said. I was still a virgin, and was not at all interested in boys, so that was out of the question. He followed me everywhere, even to the mall. When I ignored him, he would shout "SG, yuh look like yuh have HIV, how yuh so mawga?".

Not long after that phonecall, I was on my way home one afternoon. My stalker put out his hand to grab my breast. Luckily, I have small breasts, so he had to search for where to grope. As he stretched out his hand, he said "SG, let me feel your goodness". I evaded him and continued on home.

Two years later, he turned up at my house, and told me that he had been watching me for days. I ran inside, crying, and called my uncle to complain. Why did I call my uncle? My mother thought it was "cool" that guys were being attentive. I let her know that I felt uncomfortable with that kind of attention and she said "why don't you stand up to him, you can't let some boy come to your house and frighten you". Huh? Wasn't my mother supposed to be my defender?

Shortly after that, my boyfriend and I were sitting in the food court at the Sovereign Centre enjoying the Roti Bazaar's curry nan before a movie. My stalker stood on the second floor, in front of Sophia Max Brown's shop (or was it Rejuvination?) and shouted something at me. For the life of me, I can't remember what he said. My boyfriend sat there, saying nothing.

Chapter 2
The second was the boyfriend from chapter one. He was my first boyfriend. Since I was a virgin when we met, he was obsessed with keeping me "loyal" to him, and he was extremely possessive. One year after the Sovereign Centre incident, we broke up because he punched me in the face after I received a phonecall from one of my male colleagues at work. He knew who it was because we were in my living room, and he grabbed my home telephone when it rang, to find out who it was. I asked him to leave and that's when the battering started.

He couldn't understand why I couldn't see him anymore.

He followed me around for a year, and every night, he would throw rocks at my bedroom window, which was on the second floor of my house. My gates had to be locked, so he couldn't get in, and at one point I remember being escorted home by three burly policemen with shotguns. They had spoken to him about his behaviour, but that only made matters worse. I had the police station on speed dial, and they would get to my house within 3 minutes if I called. He watched my house every day during that time, followed me to UWI campus, and started a fight with my boyfriend over our new relationship.

He also called my office and spoke with the manager to tell her about all the sexual things we did, and how he had been so supportive and kind to me. He did the same thing with my guardians, telling them that I had fucked him on the living room floor, in the kitchen, and even in the washroom. They didn't believe him, and they laughed when he told them that I had been pregnant by him. Twice.

It stopped after I visited his mother and had a talk with her. She told me that he had 2.5 children and had set up house in Stony Hill with the mother of his children. That's odd. He was supposed to be seeing me exclusively, so why would he get angry about cheating if he was doing that? If he had 2.5 children, it meant that he had to have been screwing that woman while we were "dating". So much for naivite.

Chapter 3
The third one I encountered a few years ago. It might have started when some strange guy comes up to me and says, "I want to take nude pictures of you. I'll pay you $ 2000 for each shot." I shrugged and said no, and walked back home, thinking that he was just another porno video producer who was scouting for new talent. Whatever.

I thought nothing of the incident until a few days later when he called my house. He said he had seen nude photos of me on the web, and would show them to my male colleagues if I didn't let him into my apartment. He said he wanted sex, and that he was standing just outside my apartment.

I decided to ask him how he came to be obsessed with me. He told me that he had been parked at my fitness club two weeks before and noticed that I was working out there. He then returned every evening at the same time to see if I would go back. When he realised where I lived, he followed me to my office one morning.

I'm not sure why I continued to talk with him, but I thought that if I treated him like a beast, he would feel that he had power over me. So, I figured that if I satisfied his curiousity to some degree, he would not be so intensely obsessed. I found out that he was an unmarried truck driver in his late 30s. He just wanted to get to know me. He was sterile and couldn't have children, so he was not "marriage material". He still lived with his mother.

Then it was time for him to hang up.

I called my boyfriend, who was out of town, right after that incident. He responded two days later to let me know that he didn't respond sooner because he thought I had had a fight with a guy I was fucking behind his back. That was the end of our relationship. He reminded me of my first boyfriend and the first stalker.

The next afternoon, I told the police everything that happened, and I told them that I talked to him because I wanted to control the situation. For better or worse, I had the same "rights" as an extraterrestrial. I gave them the tape from my answering machine, they started an investigation.

The day after that, my stalker left a new message on my answering machine saying that he was sorry for being an asshole and that he wanted to make things right. To be friends. I don't know if he came back to visit because I had already moved into a friend's apartment.

The end

Cyberculture

2005-12-15T19:59:00.000+09:00

cy·ber·cul·ture Pronunciation (sbr-klchr) n. The culture arising from the use of computer networks, as for communication, entertainment, work, and business.

I've written before that Jamaica doesn't have a cyberculture. It is my belief that within Jamaica's borders, access to information infrastructure will be confined to a specific demographic that can afford to pay the fees charged by Cable and Wireless. Naturally, the voices coming out of Jamaica will be confined to a single social group. This may or may not be a good thing.

Telephony services in Jamaica are expensive for people who earn a relatively low income and who cannot supplement their incomes with remittances from overseas. This is the reality, that Jamaica is not a wealthy nation.

So it's understandable when people who live in Jamaica and can afford to access the internet on a regular basis feel that they have "arrived", for want of a better word. Their relative position to the rest of the population may give them a (distorted) sense of entitlement.

Jamaica's population is estimated at 2,731,832 (July 2005 est.) , and statistics from 2002 say that about 600,000 people there are using the internet.

Take a relative of mine for example. I was enjoying a lazy month outside of my country of residence when she sent me a missive about enjoying vacations. Why? Two months earlier, I had said I was going to do x project in y country. I wasn't sure what her problem was, given that I was a grown woman. But later, I realised that the root of this issue was sibling rivalry. Her sister, who was living in the same house, wasn't helping to pay internet fees and didn't own her own computer. My relative wanted to show that she could quarrel with me even though I was far away.

What do you call it when a person assumes authority and attempts to influence others? The woman with the computer workstation at UWI is the closest I've come to describing that attitude.

But, I'll get to my point.

I'll briefly discuss my understanding of "formal authority in cyberspace". First, Internet architecture is inherently non-centralised, so no single authority 'runs' the Internet. Therefore, there is a sense of "anarchy" that is associated with the internet. This is used in a political sense to signal the absence of direct or coercive authority. I will define the verb coerce as "causing to do through pressure by moral or intellectual means". As a recent example, Tobi coerces users all the time on the Jamaica Star Forum because she is it's moderator.

John Perry Barlow claims that the Internet is inherently a lawless 'electronic frontier' such that existing authority based on nation-states is undermined by the Internet. For me, this means that even cultural authority can be undermined. No one has the "right" to represent a particular culture or to impose one sociocultural perspective on an audience that has no reference point to begin with.

Who has the "right" to represent Jamaican culture? Rather, who has the right to approve or disapprove of what is said about our culture? The way I see it, people in the wide world will make up their own minds about what Jamaica means to them. Most people I know use music to relate to Jamaican culture. They study the lyrics, buy the CDs and go to the concerts. Others use Rastafarianism as their reference points. They read, they discuss their impressions and they ask further questions. These things are not necessarily Jamaican culture, but are rather products of it.

With the vague execption of people who advocate gay rights and ban our singers from visiting their countries, no-one has been appointed regulator of the "message" that is Jamaican culture.

I think that a lot more has to be done so that we can understand the belief systems that give birth to our cultural products.

Finally, an opinion isn't valid just because we agree with it, and we can't exclude an opinion just because it's not what we want to hear.

Every story comes together to give a complete picture, and that's just the way it should be.

My Tropic Escape: Survival of the Most Visible

2005-12-14T18:48:00.000+09:00

The article entitled "On my own" is misleading and so is the blurb that "at age 28, armed with loads of innovative ideas and free of the responsibilities associated with children, [Imani Duncan] decided to take the risk and follow her dream."

My Tropic Escape signs off its introduction as:

One Love,
Imani Duncan & Peter Bunting
Co-creators of My Tropic Escape

Innovation is relative, because when you think of it, My Tropic Escape is a tour company. Using adjectives like "luxury" and "adventure" doesn't make it more than what it really is. It's just as silly as calling a flight attendant a "international hospitality consultant", for example. Where is the risk in asking your lover to lend you his support in starting up a business in Jamaica's thriving tourism sector?

I asked myself, is a person truly a wealth creator if the co-creator of her business is her former lover?

Wealth is created through several means.

Natural resources can be harvested and sold to those who want them.
Material can be changed into something more valuable through proper application of knowledge, skill, labor and equipment.
Better/smarter production methods also create additional wealth by allowing faster creation of wealth.
Ideas create additional wealth by allowing it to be created faster or with new methods.

The last definition in the above list makes me think that it's Peter Bunting who is the wealth creator, and not Imani. Peter might have imagined that it would be profitable to use Imani's ideas as "new methods" of creating additional wealth for himself.

I thought it looked strange when one minute, Imani is lovey-dovey and doing ski trips with Peter and less than a year later, is engaged to be married to Basil Waite. The Jamaica Observer's Tatler blamed Peter for the breakup, and painted him out to be the loser, but that was a hasty judgement. I think that he is an experienced businessman who has made effective use of his left brain.

And I'm saying that the press has made this middle-class girl look more ambitious than she really is. I was proud of her a few years ago when I read about her tireless efforts to get Global Justice off the ground. She was right there when it all began, so I feel that it's an anticlimax when this woman with a master's degree from Harvard University comes back to Jamaica and starts a tour company that's funded by her wealthy ex-boyfriend.

I also question her role as wealth creator because it occurs to me that her Escape Artists (borrowed term) and members of the local communities will have to serve up themselves to receive tourist dollars. How does servitude contribute to wealth? Who is becoming wealthy?

It seems to me that the tourists are the wealthy ones because they can order up anything they like. For a reasonable cost, they can enjoy the holiday of their dreams, hundreds of people bending over backwards so they can really have fun.

One woman (not a Jamaican) told me recently that she had seen an advertisement on TV for the Jamaica Tourist Board. She wanted to know where she would stay during her vacation, since everyone in Jamaica lived in the woods, under the shade of trees, eating only fresh fruit. How would she dry her hair after shampooing in the river? This was a university educated woman was in her late 20's. Anyone who has lived outside of Jamaica for a considerable period of time should have had this stranger-than-fiction experience.

I'm not bothered by Imani's ex-boyfriend's sponsorship. What bothers me about this whole thing is the fact that the press has named her a wealth creator. The term doesn't really have any meaning because none of the people who are cooking cheap lunches or pointing fingers "over there" can get rich doing just that. So, who, I ask again, is getting all this wealth?

What bothers me is that the Observer article has implied that she is a role model for young women who want to strike out on their own. How can Imani truly spread the message of wealth creation in Jamaica when she had a rich boyfriend to begin with? If I were a member of the reading public who was reading this article, I would assume that I am to look to this beautiful, educated woman for mentorship. After finding out that she had help from a special friend, I would think that it is impossible for me to make it on my own. I would then decide to make my ultimate goal in life "finding a rich man" to sponsor my ambitions.

Unfortunately, many women in Jamaica have adopted this mindset. It is one of the side effects of our culture of beauty pageantism. Many talented women enter these contests because they feel that their true goals in life will be otherwise compromised. In Jamaica, if you don't live in the right neighbourhood, or if you weren't born in the right family, you are forced to make up for it with maximum exposure. What better way to do so than to invite yourself to the coming out party of the Jamaican middle class?

The real reason that young women enter beauty pageants is to ensure their own survival. To be invisible, or out of the media spotlight in Jamaica, is a very bad thing, especially when you need a boyfriend with lots of cash.

Stories etched in the snow

2005-12-14T12:22:00.000+09:00

Snow tracks tell interesting stories. Whenever I open my front door in the morning, I can tell if somone walked by my house earlier. The large bootprints belong to the men who check every morning to see if there is snow to be removed. The small, delicate tracks with triangular toes belong to a woman who had come to visit me unannounced (I still don't know who it is). I can see the tyre tracks of the the smallor large vehicles that pass by. I've found that my favourite sneakers have carved a New Balance logo in white.

Exactly one year ago, I woke up to find some curious little prints leading from my front door to my car. Earlier, I was told that there were foxes living in the forest in which my house is nestled. I hadn't seen any foxes myself, so I wasn't scared at the idea. In this country, it's illegal to kill, feed or otherwise attempt to tame wild animals.

Since then, they trimmed the trees in the forest, because storms had weakened the trunks of many of the trees over the years. I now have a midi-forest, and I was sad, but I was assured that it was for my own safety and protection.

This morning I woke up and saw some prints under my window. Fox paw prints? Then I noticed that the ice was melting and that the icicles were dripping onto the bed of snow below the eaves of my roof. I traced the the small holes in the snow to the landing that separated my house from the street.

If the prints I saw last year were melted icicles, then what made those indentations that I saw under my car?

Conservative blogging

2005-12-14T07:31:00.000+09:00

I got slightly annoyed yesterday when I was reading some "blogging advice" from the web's famous bloggers. Notably, most of them are from the US, a culture with an interesting study in contrasts.

Most talk a good conservative game, but their behaviour doesn't match up. For example, it's not okay to talk about your sex life on your blog, but it's perfectly okay for married men to solicit sexual services online, or for couples to leave copies of Forum or Playboy around the house when they have young kids.

I don't see anyone breathing down their necks. Probably I should make a list for them, to balance accounts.

Okay, so now we have to follow rules about blogging? Not that I intend to become dooced like Heather Armstrong, but there really is no fun in writing about bland topics like what someone said about what someone else said regarding what someone else said about US politics on someone else's news blog.

I went down the entire list of mandates before rolling my eyes. I mean, I don't want to have my hobby writing regulated. That's way too much pressure, to come up with the "right" topics, and then it becomes a job. I have a job, and that is heavily regulated. I have hobbies that are heavily regulated. I just need some chaos to restore the balance, or I'll fucking implode.

Oh, I'm not supposed to use swear words or else it will be a turn-off.

Is it necessary to write to become a famous blogger? There are enough websites for everyone, and there are many famous bloggers, so I think it's perfectly okay for me not to desire that attention. That said, I'm not good at following advice unless I really need it.

Oh, and this whiny post is also on the list of things NOT to do.

Word!!

The trouble with turning left

2005-12-13T12:02:00.000+09:00

I live in a left-driving country.

I was fuming the other day because I noticed that some drivers would waste time when turning left. Left turns are textbook, right? Safety checks, indicate, slow down and turn. Multi-tasking.

I notice that a lot of people tend to indicate just as they decide to turn into the parking lot of an establishment such as the mall, supermarket or restaurant. I see the car swerve towards the pavement, to prevent bikers from sneaking past in the open space. Then the brakes go on suddenly, and everyone else has to stop while this person decides when to turn. Imagine going from 60 kph to zero at a moment's notice. Then imagine that you're behind me. What the hell is going on?

This person's stalling may last 5 seconds or less, but when someone fails to do their safety check before turning, it makes everyone else uncertain. Should we pass this person, or wait. Has the car stalled, or will it stop here? These decisions take more time. Going back to 60 kph from a stop also takes a few seconds, but it's okay if you're directly behind the left-turning time waster. What's worse is, you speed up, and then the traffic light goes red. Bleeding buggery hell!!!

It is especially annoying when there are no pedestrians on the pavement, and no cars leaving the parking lot, but this time wasting left turner is stopped at an odd angle in the lane of oncoming traffic. It's a main road people! You aren't the only ones with things to do!

Is it okay to inconvenience others just because we are inefficient?

Maybe they're wasting time, or maybe I'm impatient. Maybe I live in a country with closed-minded people who don't care about the people who they influence with their actions.

Fact is, safety checks should come first so that when you turn left, you can turn decisively and with confidence.

Do what needs to be done: Blogging for a purpose?

2005-12-11T19:29:00.000+09:00

I had a nightmare about climbing today. I had a fight with my archenemy (a woman). She was very powerful, and could not be hurt even though I was bashing her neck with a piece of wood. I decided to run away from her and ended up scaling a Greek statue that had been abandoned and run over by weeds. I didn't realise what it was until I found myself hugging its nose, and running my hand over its eyes. The statue was blocking the entrance to one of my favourite temples.

Don't know what the dream means, but I was just talking with a friend of mine about this blogging business, and decided to resurrect a post I had been tweaking for a week.

This is who I am. I thought about a lot of the rants I've posted here, and I realise that many of them were vengeful. Especially November. I was on a roll! I thought about those issues again, and I asked myself, "does my blog have to be squeaky clean?"

Revenge is the act of giving punishment or demanding atonement for a wrong. It is the desire to retaliate against a person or group in response to perceived wrongdoing. Although revenge may superficially resemble the concept of making things equal, revenge usually has a more injurious than constructive goal. It involves the vengeful wish to make the other person experience what one went through or otherwise to suffer severely.

I thought about those definitions, and realise that this was not the unilateral purpose of my rants. I started blogging in August, 2003, when I was being bullied by my boss and I really hated myself. Writing what I felt about other persons didn't make me feel better, and it didn't eradicate my issues either. I guess that bringing them to the surface and re-reading my thoughts made me realise just how insignificant some things are.

Revenge is personal and at times motivated by wounded honor, or anger. The emotional component of seeking revenge often leaves the seeker frustrated, unfulfilled, and angrier still. This may have been true for me but I'm not angry or unfulfilled at the moment. I wrote about that epiphany last month when I had my final dive/climb for 2005. Doesn't mean I will be less caustic, though.

As for my platform, or my agenda, I don't need one. I write what I write.

Wood, water, and missed opportunities

2005-12-04T11:37:00.000+09:00

Jamaica is not such a "small" country, when we think of the impact that Jamaican people have had on the world stage. Academia, tourism, literature, music, fashion and sports. Jamaica is a nation with presence.

Unfortunately, though we have a big impact, we are still so small-minded that we missed out on the opportunities that are presented for further growth as a nation. I'm not talking about World Bank handouts. I'm talking about getting people to buy our cultural products. I made reference to this issue when McDonald's pulled out of Jamaica.

Let's take fashion models, for instance. Quite a few of the popular ones are from Jamaica. They model for Bill Blass, Emanuel Ungaro, Gucci and even Victoria's Secret. So, how come we don't have all the designers and press agents come to Jamaica and spend their money here? Yes, we have a Caribbean Fashion week, but that's not the same thing. What's the point of paying highly visible models to appear on the runway just because they're Jamaican? These girls were chosen because they could sell clothes. They fit a certain designer's image. The investment backfires because the model gets rich, and people don't buy the local designer's clothes.

Now, at the risk of sounding like some of the contributors to the Jamaica Star Forum, I would like to add my own twig of thyme to this "Miss Jamaica World Pageant" soup.

Within our culture, I believe there is a syndrome that I'll call "BEAUTY PAGEANTISM".

Beauty Pageantism works like this. Some of the working class people of a post-colonial nation are periodically misdirected from pressing social, political and economic issues by focussing their attention on the mediocre bodies of a few selected women from the local population.

Here's a contrast. Our strength and economic viability as a region will be tested when we host the World Cup of Cricket in 2007. There have been quite a number of difficulties with managing and organising the event, but we keep saying that our girl will win in China. Star Forum Moderator Tobi, for example, was very disappointed that all her trumpetting and coercion has come to zero. Here is what she said after returning from an overseas trip and realising that no-one cared:

folks... no one really cares about Miss World or Jamaicas participation it would seem, I guess everyone just struggling & too busy hustling or trying to stay 'safe'.

Gugu Simelane notes that "beauty pageants are the most eagerly-awaited events of the entertainment year in small countries like Swaziland...because we are poor, we don't have many extravaganzas. These are glamorous functions." No offence to small, poor countries, but is this where we are?

Since I've left Jamaica, I've met many people who have no idea where this country is, or who think that everyone here has dark skin. I explain that if you want to find a Jamaican, you have to listen for the accent or the belly laughs because we're such a diverse culture. For about 2 years, I would show photos of Jamaican women in different contexts to the people who are interested in our culture. Well, the full-bodied women on the post cards, who are washing their clothes by the river, get very good reactions: "hmm...nice!" But, when I show photos of haute couture models and the women who enter our local beauty pageants, I get puzzled looks. "What?! They're cute?!" I felt self-conscious about my audience's lack of enthusiam, so I didn't bother to ask, but I can understand why Tobi felt that people were rather nonchalant about Jamaica's participation.

It seems that as a nation, we cannot feel as if we're on the map unless the majority of 2.3 billion people say that Jamaican women are beautiful and sexy as hell. Can't you see? We're already on the map, and beauty pageants aren't that big a deal. It's just entertainment.

Watch the reaction to beauty pageants in nations with thriving economies. A victory like that would get swallowed up in a few hours.

I don't think it makes sense for us to pin our nation's future on one individual who is only trying to raise her social capital at the expense of our time and attention.

"I see this competition as a way of improving self", says Terri-Karelle Griffith. Peta-Gaye Walker chimes in with, "this will help to improve my social skills, confidence and etiquette. Besides being able to put the Miss Jamaica on my resume, it gives me an opportunity to meet people that I probably wouldn't have the opportunity to meet."

Most young women enter beauty pageants for the same reason that I dive off clifftops: because they want to boost their egos. I don't see a "national pride" agenda here.

Misguided Issues about Bad women

2005-12-01T17:46:00.000+09:00

I'm so bored with Jamaican men who pontificate about women who are "loose" and "bad". Yeah, yeah. This is a well-chewed argument by the men in our society who are desperate to control women's sexuality.

I don't believe that a Jamaican man can stay faithful to his wife/girlfriend, physically or emotionally. Jamaican men will swear on their mother's grave that they are monogamous, even while they're caught in the act. If possible, they lie to the other women, to get them in bed or tell them up front that "look, you are going to be my outside woman, zeen?"

One of my close friends says that he's monogamous, yet he is having sex with three women at the same time. He thinks he's monogamous because the sexual encounters are not happening simultaneously. So many stories, so little space.

Tony Robinson is misguided in the belief that he is an expert on "bad girls" and their emotional needs. Men speaking about women's issues and polarising women such that they can't win. Male domination rears it's ignorant head. I can't think of a developed society in which such a concept makes sense. Tony's moniker "Daddy Oh" is befitting of someone who is out of touch with the times. Here is some of what he wrote:

The life of the bad girl isn't what it's cut out to be, as even though they're sought after, desired by men, yearned after, it's not usually for a long-term relationship. But bad girls need love too. The irony is, men will say that they want a bad girl, and they really do, but the usual phrase is, "Hey man, only for a good time, remember, some you settle down with and some you just lick and run". Now that's so sad.

So even though they may look hot and sexy, healthy body and lusty, it's often a sad, lonely life for a bad girl. "I got what you want, you got what I need, I'll be your baby, come and spend it on me, sad girls, bad girls."

Really? I think the so-called bad girl should be the one to discuss her own experiences with the public. She should be the one to talk about her own emotional issues, if she has any.

It's ignorant to insinuate that having a partner in one's life is a good thing. Having a good partner is a good thing, but the concept that "any man will do" is one of the reasons that many Jamaican women are getting shafted in love.

Let's consider women who don't want to have a man encroaching on their physical and emotional space. Does she have a category? Rather, should we place her in category, or is she to be excluded from our society because she does not buy into the male domination dogma? Women have chosen other options for how to live their own lives. To a large extent, sex is now a lifestyle choice, and not an obligation.

Why does a man have to factor in at every turn?

Tony is misguided if he thinks that "long-term relationship" = "woman's happiness". Come on, there is so much a woman can do now to have a fulfilling life. Before, we had to trade our bodies just so we could eat. Having children was our task in life. After that, we were dispensible. We could die, and no-one would write about us. Now we can have choices for personal fulfilment. It is no longer a truism that all little girls want to be someone's wife when they grow up. It is no longer necessary for this to be the goal in a woman's life.

I also disagree with this statement of his:

I spoke to some good girls who were lamenting the fact that they had no men, while others had men but the men seemed bored with them, had lost interest, had no passion for them.

What, now good girls can't be good in bed? Rubbish. Sexual intercourse is not just a physical activity. It's a social skill. It's a marketing tool. Most people even consider it a form of entertainment.

I know of women who've been monogamous and sexually adventurous with their husbands. There are other women who market their sexual attractiveness in local beauty pageants so they can get the edge on finding wealthy husbands. Many Jamaican men pay to get "serviced" at massage parlours every day even though they have wives and girlfriends at home.

The way I see it, a woman who wants to shag a guy she just met because she likes him should go ahead and do it. She isn't trying to get money or status out of the exchange, and she's freely sharing her body. If the man wants it too, it's not fair that the woman alone should receive negative judgement.

When I consider a woman's physiology, it's difficult to think of a vagina as being offensive. It's a very discreetly positioned organ. Unless he's a virgin, Tony should know that it is physiologically impossible for to look at the vagina and penetrate it at the same time. In pornographic film, penetration is the highlight of every scene. Why? It's not something that the man can see when he's having intercourse, so he might watch porn because he's interested in knowing what's happening.

Tony is pontificating about one set of outdated rules while the women he's talking about are playing a completely different game.

More time, Daddy Oh!

Browning = Jamaican Shadeism

2005-11-29T16:25:00.000+09:00

Found this column in the Teenage section of the Jamaica Observer. I'm not going to say that it's hard to believe that people are still talking this kind of crap, because it isn't hard to believe. However, I know that Jamaican men are capable of appreciating black women. So, I wonder what the hell is going on?

Pssst... Browning
By Sherilla Gordon, Deputy Quarterly Editor UTech
Tuesday, November 29, 2005

Most young Jamaicans have heard the phrase "Pssst... browning" at some point in time and probably not payed much attention to it. But this one phrase has so many underlying implications, meanings and connotations that if you sit and think about it your head might spin.

Used to refer to women of light brown complexion, from the frequency of its usage, you'd get the impression that only 'brown' women are desired in Jamaica and that females of dark complexion might as well be wiped off the island.

I can recall a man saying to me one day, "You look good for a black girl." I didn't know whether to say thank you or to knock him out then and there. But fortunately for him I held my composure and gracefully responded, "Thank you." I'm not sure about anyone else, but this browning craze has me puzzled.

In a country as "mixed" as ours, complexion really shouldn't matter, but obviously this is not the case. What exactly is wrong with women of dark complexion? Why are they regarded as being lesser than women of lighter complexion?

Instead of separating women and men by complexion, how about looking past what is on the outside and recognising that true worth and quality are found on the inside.

ménage à trois

2005-11-27T18:16:00.000+09:00

The story of a bored husband looking to spice up his sex life.

Cast
Finnish seaman
Finnish seaman's Russian bride
Shaggy's Girl

Set locations
House "warming" party at hillside mansion of a close friend
Finnish seaman's home

Plot Summary
21.00 I was sitting down with a glass of coca cola, and the Russian bride falls, face down, into my lap. I'm sort of surprised because I don't even know her but she cops a feel of my right breast with her left hand. I return the favour by pulling her shirt all the way up her back to reveal a large tattoo on the small of her back. (The hostess of the party is filming the whole incident). Before this, the bride and the seaman were swallowing each other's tongues to show everyone how mad they were about each other. We had descriptions of their sex life, too. It didn't stop there, the bride went on to give her best interpretation of Elephant Man's "Jook Gal", which only revealed that she had no ass and no circular rotation through her hips. Major turn off.

22.00 The seaman says that he's too drunk to drive home, so I offer them a lift. As we were warming up in the car, the seaman says I should come over to their house to taste Russian food that his wife had prepared. I wasn't sure where this was heading (I have a dirty mind), so I asked the Russian bride what she thought, and she said it was fine. We agreed that I would just stay for a little bit.

00.00 The seaman wanted to know about my most fulfilling sexual experience, and I told him that is was with one of his countrymen. He's shocked. Finnish men are good in bed?! He asked for details: What did he do? How did he do it? I didn't give details, but I drew some comparisons with my former Jamaican lovers so he could get the big picture.

00:30 I say it's time to go home. Russian bride offers to draw me up a bath.

01.30 The Russian bride finishes preparing a relaxing bath for me in a wooden tub on their second floor balcony. The Finnish seaman, still drunk, asks the bride if he can join me and starts caressing my feet. I threw a cushion at him to get him to shut up.

02.00 I'm in bed in the guest room. They get in the tub together.

09.45 We've had breakfast, and it's time for me to leave. I can't find my way to the main road because I'm unfamiliar with the city. It was snowing too, so visibility was crap. The Russian bride looked at me with disbelief when I told her that it was only my third visit to the city. The bride rattles off in broken Finnish that the seaman should not leave the house because he has things to do at home. I tried in vain to get the seaman to draw me a map, or to give me verbal instructions. He insists on leading me out to the main road so I could find my way home. I thought his offer was genuine, so I accepted.

Review
Maybe I misinterpreted the whole thing, but the seaman had been touching me all evening. The idea of a tryst was not out of the question, but I was exhausted, he was too drunk, and I was not at all aroused by the bride. She looked scary, and this was not a pick-and-choose-the-partner situation. What was puzzling though, was her behaviour this morning. Ordering her husband not to leave the house today, even to give me directions in bad weather. Don't leave the house: Direct challenge to his ego! After all, he did have the object of his lust sleep in his home. I wonder how things would have turned out if I had engaged her in a tongue lock? That would never have happened though.

Classic case of jealousy after the "menage a trois", except that it never happened. I felt that despite her fantasies, she wasn't ready for such grownup activities.

As far as I'm concerned though, it was just an innocent sleepover.

VERBATIM: An account of delusion

2005-11-23T10:28:00.000+09:00

Background

I met L in winter, 2004 while I was on a special assignment in another country. L asked if we could sit down and have a chat so I said yes and we had dinner. He told me he had a partner, so I let him know that sex was out of the question. A week later, he informed me that it was his decision not to sleep with me.

Soon, he writes me e-mails asking me if I want him to be in my life. That he wants to know where "this" is going. I say..no...it's kind of counterintuitive for me to have a long-distance affair with a man who is attached. I stopped answering his e-mail. Six months later, he writes that it was his decision to stop writing me. Thing is, I don't have the heart to tell this man that I have never been sexually attracted to him.

Next week, I'll be returning to his country on a different assignment. I needed some information so three weeks ago, I contacted him in our professional capacity, with a proposal and deadlines. Very formal. He responds in kind, as a professional.

I'm thinking that everything is fine, and I bumped into him on MSN Messenger last night. The first part of our conversation was business, but all of a sudden the conversation took at twist that shocked the hell out of me. I couldn't believe what he was saying to me. The guy can't even tell the truth to himself.

The conversation

L: my partner has seen emails from you....she has asked many questions about you
SG: your partner reads your e-mails? Talk about an open relationship.
L: well..... this has been a new discovery
SG: so, what have you told her?
L: how we met...generally the pleasure of chat on msn
SG: and how did she respond?
L: like a volcano errupting:@
SG: I see... did you mean for her to find your e-mails?
L: probably..... it was an open book for people to see
SG: this is an interesting development.... so what did you say to her when she erupted? did you tell her that we never had sex?
L: yes, but she doesn't believe it
SG: why should she...
L: exactly
SG: the point is, you have a relationship that you've invested some time and energy in, so I'm assuming you're still living at home
L: hahahahah..... yes… just
SG: she'll forgive you...
L: yes
SG: I'm so happy I don't have those issues waiting at home for me after a busy day
L: yes.... you are better off ..i think she would be blown away to find out that you are Jamaican
SG: she doesn't like black women?
L: not at all… in fact i believe you would both get on very well and that's not male ego talkin...
SG: what's talking?
L: my objective overwiew
SG: are you making this up?
L: no, not at all
SG: if you aren't you're obviously not scared of your girlfriend
L: it is not good to live in fear…in fact i believe we should be more open sexually.... and not fear the consequences… unfortunately humans are frail in general
SG: uh huh? that's easy to say when you're the super-ordinate one in the relationship
L: i was very much in that category in younger years ...so what do you think ??? should i cease communicating with you? should i please my partner?.
SG: I see, so we get around to the point of the discussion... let's say that you should cease communicating with me
L: mmmmm
SG: we've never been in a relationship, so it's unfair to say that it's my problem. I won't incur any losses and you will have shown her, by your virtual indiscretions, who's boss
L: i certainly didn't imply that it was your problem
SG: of course you did…you said that "my e-mails" were found, as opposed to yours
L: well i do apologise..... my terminology was inadequate,
SG: so it's as if I were stalking you …when I only wrote to ask for your assistance as a professional
L: this is my issue totally :D
SG: I'm really sorry that I bothered you
L: please do not apologise
SG: I do apologise...I never actually expected that you would bait me like this
L: i genuinely want to help as a professional
SG: it's a real low blow…I wish you had said something sooner
L: please do not read something into this that is not there..now i feel bad
SG: don't
L: too late!
SG: as I said, you were super-ordinate … you're in control, so you don't need people to tell you what to do with your life
L: I like you a lot Shaggy's Girl...........
SG: please don't say that....it makes me sound pathetic
L: i would like to keep in touch......... but i have laid a rocky path..so i better go for now… at no time had i meant any disrespect...... so i apologise for being a silly man ..
you must hate me now.....
SG: not at all
L: well at least share a coffee with me when you come to town
SG: I don't think I'll do that
L: i respect that......i will be sad not to speak to or see you again
SG: stop being a baby, you're getting what you want
L: true…but i do want my cake and eat it as well…i wish you well SG…Goodnight
L: i am still willing to do things for you, but if i have blown it, so be it
SG: I've already got past this issue
L: yes.... i thought you might have....

Poverty of Mind

2005-11-22T19:45:00.000+09:00

NO culture is 100% squeaky clean, but recently I was reminded of what makes Jamaica a truly ugly society. It's not the crime, violence, bribery or drug smuggling. It's the day to day subtleties. The way a Jamaican man treats every woman. The "as yuh si mi gi mi" attitude.

Every time you reject a man's (psssst) call to come hither, the response is: "gweh gyal, yuh tink seh yuh pussy can buy mi car?"

Donna Hope wrote an excellent article on misogyny in Jamaican culture:

One should note here that patriarchy is not only male dominance in its strictest sense, but also a persistent ideology of male super-ordination that both men and women maintain consciously and unconsciously...The process, which began around the 16th century, of defining women and non-whites as savage, uncontrollable and uncivilised, provided an opening for the domestication and exploitation of these groups.

Carolyn Cooper says that Jamaican " men are stereotyped as dog-hearted predators stalking potential victims." I disagree with her use of the term "stereotyped", because she does not account for the dog-hearted predators who are out there.

Did I have any experiences with men who tried to cut me down to size? I've had quite a few that I'll share here.

Incident A
Six months ago, an ex-lover from UWI calls me one night, and starts talking to me as if we had a relationship. I say to him that relationships need a little more nurturing than he has been giving. His reaction? To laugh at me and cluck like a rooster, saying that men should never date women who are intellectually superior to them. Huh? I stand up for myself and I'm expressing my emotional needs and suddenly I become an intellectual. Bizarre.

Incident B
A pompous asshole I met at UWI, asked me to teach him to use a computer. He feels foolish because he doesn't know how to hold the mouse. His response? Instead of listening to me, he talks to the guy at the other terminal and says how you should never learn anything from a woman, especially if he wants to screw her later.

Incident C
I'm at the printers in New Kingston trying to get some business cards printed. I'm waiting patiently at the counter, then one of my ex-flings walks into the lobby. He gets served first, and the counter clerk is showing him her breasts while her face is inches from his. I softly remind her that I'm waiting for my order to be completed. Ex-fling turns around and says: "Basically, you talk too much".

Incident D
I had wrapped up a seminar presentation for my master's. Ex-boyfriend shoves a published letter to the editor of the Jamaica Gleaner under my nose, just to prove to me that he could write. (He was a therapist with a thriving private practice). Then he ignored my full-page articles in the same edition of the paper, saying that he never has time to read newspapers.

In summary, male-female relations are dominated by violence which is forced into dormancy by a woman's acquiescence to her man's whims and fancies. So glad I'm not caught up in that.

Jetrosexual: The new black?

2005-11-16T20:21:00.000+09:00

Jetrosexual (n):

Someone whose career, homes and love life are spread across several continents, and who has become completely at home with international air travel.

VIRGIN ATLANTIC has coined the term "Jetrosexual" to define the new breed of traveller. It's a blatant marketing gimmick, but I love this new word. Let's see, I don't have a love life, and I cotch with friends when I travel. Do I still qualify?

"Why yuh callin' out mi name? Mi know yuh?"

2005-11-14T22:07:00.000+09:00

Tobi is a moderator and a "god" of the Jamaica Star Web Board. She is supposed to be an expert on the fashion and beauty scene. Given her vulgarity, I feel somewhat dirty even writing about her my blog. However, given this woman's oligarchic tendencies, and the danger that this post would be deleted if I had placed it on the Jamaica Star Forum, I decided to put the post here on this blog where she can't touch it.

The Web Forum
I'm going to ignore the poor design of the web board. I'm going to ignore that people post their photos on the board without modifying their size first. I'm also going to ignore the avatar of a woman sitting on her bed, and the tasteless gifs of women with round bottoms doing variously suggestive things.

Notwithstanding, the forum is a good source of information, and I am not one to scorn any source of information. Frankly, I am not even going to ask how come Tobi became a web board administrator, because I've read what the Jamaica Star prints.

Tobi
Tobi channels the secretary who used to sew her own curtains in a certain laboratory at the UWI Mona Campus. This secretary would get on her high horse because she held the keys to the laboratory's rooms and because she had a computer on her desk. At that time, students weren't bringing laptops to campus and Miss Hanna had not yet bestowed upon us a fully equipped computer lab, so the secretary felt that she had some power over students. Somewhat like monkey with a new machine.

When I see Tobi's writing I get the strong image of the alcoholic mother of my first boyfriend. This woman was a fabulous cook, but she would walk around the house in a see-through nightie. Her 40-something-year old breasts would droop to the floor. If her son crossed her, she would pull up the hem of the gown tell him about his dutty bomboraasclaat (did I spell that right?).

Tobi, the Jamaica Star Moderator, combines the essence of these two women. She would be so virtuous and correct at one moment, scolding posters for revealing other people's secrets and reminding them that only she knows who is ugly and what is not. If you look closely, she's an over-exposed matron with the keys for the rooms to an outdated building. What amuses me is that people are actually afraid of her because she can delete their posts.

Part 1
Raquel Wright, Miss Jamaica Universe 2005, has been one of her victims. This beautiful wholesome-looking girl saw everyone jumping on a bandwagon to say they didn't like her looks, just so they could ingratiate themselves with Tobi.

Oct 30th, 2005, 5:00pm, Structure wrote:It is beginning to seam that the only beauty queen you did not have a problem with was raquel wright. I wonder why?

Started by TOBI | Post by Mr Puppet
on Sep 12th, 2005, 3:31pm, TOBI wrote:

you obviously have issues....& I hope you get help....Terri Karelle is a popular choice, a fab girl, with all the right attributes to be seen & heard...watch her glow at Miss World, & then we can continue this discussion....Tonoya leaves a sour taste in my mouth......there is no comparison with Terri...she will go places..with or without u...

I AGREE TOBI..SOME PEOPLE ON HERE JUST ALWAYS GO AGAINST ANYTHING POSITIVE

As if the Miss Jamaica Universe pageant were a big deal in the first place! Almost no-one contradicted Tobi, who announced that Raquel was ugly, and Tobi has the last word on who is ugly and who is not.

Post by TOBI Nov 2nd, 2005, 8:02am
My only comments on this, it is first and foremost a beauty pageant...whereas you can enhance a persons public speaking skills & make them more comfortably socially, ie more outgoing...you simply cannto makeover a girl as unattractive as Raquel Wright or Tonoya & expect them to be seen in an INtL beauty pageant, its simply a waste of time.

People who post comments on that web board would beg her not to cuss them out because they knew when a certain opinion would not meet her sanction.

October 16, 2005 Post by Structure:
OK, please do not cuss me off, but is Terri facially attractive enough to pull it off?

Soon after telling everyone to shut up, Tobi would reveal another person's secrets, without reprimand. In fact, the ensuing conversation seems like gang warfare.

Tobi
Star Moderator
Star God

Re: Beyonce's hair
Reply #8 on: Aug 11, 2005, 8:03pm

LOL..poor beyonce...someone who move in gossip circles, told me shes actually Haitian, but refuse to admit it....

Romalon
Star God
tobi, lol, lol. someone who move in gossip circles ? ?.. you should call names sometines so we can be aware of gossip mongers ..ha, ha, ....

I don't know Tobi personally, but I would accept her opinions if she were consistent or even political. That is, if she had chosen a position, left or right and stayed there. At least you know what she stands for. However, her only position seems to be whatever comes to her fingertips as she types. Her behaviour reminds me of what a wise person said to scold me: being a biyotch just because you can be might be fun for you, but is reprehensible to others.

Someone else had this to say about Tobi's behaviour, and I swear it wasn't Shaggy's girl:

Now I am sure Terri will win simply because she is the best of a bad lot, but reading all this crap that both Tobi and Romolon have written has definately made me lose all respect for the past statements and criticisms they have made of the other recent pageants. For one you guys keep emphasizing that its her personality that really sets her apart. Yet when raquel wright won Miss Universe you were quick to say that personality has nothing to do with it. Tobi, you actually complimented the dreadful dancehall queen pink costume she is wearing, which really made me realize that obviously you have no taste.

Part 2
Tobi once complained about how her posts would be deleted by somebody else (as a forum administrator, she should realise that it's inappropriate to discuss these internal issues with the public).

On Mar 2nd, 2005, 10:04am, TOBI wrote:

I cant believe Star...Im getting weary...you make the effort to post a topic with photos, start an interesting discussion...& then its zapped...deleted...cant be bothered ..Ive also gotton complaints from other posters who tell me they crash while posting a reply..or loose their user ID....STAR need to get their act together before they go public with this forum, and take it Global...

Later, she boasted that she had the power to delete posts. Tobi, the Star god, doesn't strike me as the sort of person who can be trusted with other people's words. I'm trying to understand how she feels about having the power over other people's opinions. It must make her feel so good about herself. I know that I'm not taking this out of context because her words are right here.

Leisure fashion and arts / Fashion, Beauty & Lifestyle / Re: NEW BOOK: TRICKS OF JAMAICAN MEN Sep 14th, 2005, 8:30pm
Started by seduce-now Post by TOBI on Sep 14th, 2005, 5:30pm

Might I remind u, this forum is not a market place, you simply cant just come here to buy or sell..:)...if your issue has to do with literary content & feedback on what you read, thats a different matter, but when you want to promote or sell, I find its always better to call the Gleaner Advt Desk :)...I wouldve deleted your posting, but having checked the site it appeared you might not have had any direct commercial interest....pls correct me if Im wrong...

Another poster wrote, ironically, that:

It has come to me that some one don't want them name pon Forum...hence friendship, Nepotism maybe one of the factors at play here. It is amazing how the fashion page lost a few postings. I SMELL SABOTAGE, FRIENDSHIP, NEPOTISM OR JUST PLAIN AS DAY FKRY

Is that right? Actually, I smell chicken dung.

Tobi is a shining example of the culture of self-censorship/shame tree that forces Jamaican people to be quiet about the little injustices that happen around them. A person who doesn't like another person's opinions puts on his/her pontiff's mask and then wails as loudly as possible about how evil and malicious another person is. "You attacked the person whose ass I'm kissing, stop!" These people feel ashamed for the moment because they think they did something wrong, but in the next instant the same pontiff goes back into a feeding frenzy with his/her shark's mask.

Appalling.

Over-Tara

2005-11-14T11:02:00.000+09:00

I have to feel sorry for Tara Abrahams Clivio, she's trying desperately hard to prove that she did not get her part-time writing job at the Jamaica Observer because her daddy is famous.

We already pointed out that Tara is of black African descent, but she insists on using the third person plural to refer to members of her own ethnic group. She seems to be saying that all upper middle class people in Jamaica are "white"/"European"? Tara is a bored housewife, and somewhat of a cry-baby judging from her latest attempt at poetry. I am confused about Tara's platform because she refuses to acknowledge her heritage and ingenuously continues to display her upper-middle class ignorance to the reading public. No wonder people make fun of her.

For example, one reader (not Shaggy's girl) had this to say after her September 29 article on domestic helpers:

I often wonder if I am the only one who, after reading Tara Abrahams-Clivio, says "What tha'.?" Quite frankly, I am baffled as to why she has column space in the Observer. I am guilty of reading it, but I just think I do so not for the "substance" of what she says (because, that, it surely lacks) but to see what ridiculous thing she is going to write about next.

I don't think that Tara understands the meaning of hardship. Taking on a job at McDonald's and being victimised by a white anal-retentive boss doesn't make you a helper. When the daughter of a Jamaican media executive goes to a fast food restaurant and mops floors, she's doing social research. Just like Paris Hilton and Nicole Ritchie for "The Simple Life". Or like Prince William in Kenya.

You see, even as a McDonald's employee, Tara was insulated from hardship because she always had daddy's mansion to run to at the end of a long, hard day. Seeking after hardship when you had a social safety net is a lifestyle choice, and is not the same as being powerless to escape hardship. Furthermore, most helpers can't afford to spend upwards of JM $200 on a McDonald's hamburger, so Tara would have been meeting her friends and neighbours anyhow.

Speaking of hardship, I recently saw a documentary about a beautiful young white girl in Argentina who gave birth to her first child at 13, and who could not even get a job as a helper because there was no-one to take care of her child. She lived in an old hut in the middle of a dirt patch, cooked her meals outdoors and slept on wooden slats each night, with another young, homeless mother and her child. She had only the clothes on her back, and the baby had no clothes to wear.

She could not afford to buy medicine for her son who was now suffering from malnutrition, and had huge legions on his skin. The paediatrician could only offer her cold comfort. "The child is your responsibility. You are everything he has". She decided to look for a job but couldn't find one because she was underaged and had a young baby.

Of course I didn't have to go that far to find stories about hardship. They exist right here in Jamaica.

Tara doesn't have to experience hardship to feel sympathy for people who are less fortunate, and she doesn't have to feel guilty for having had a privileged background. She should give thanks that her children have a father to provide for them and that she never has to worry about where to rest her head at night.

I would rather see Tara spend her time working for charity. Maybe it will give her better material for her poetry in the Jamaica Observer.

Thursday, November 10, 2005
Mopping floors
Tara Abrahams-Clivio
(In defense of statement by above-mentioned critic)

To the critics who feel that all helpers are poor, black women from the country who are so simple that they are so easily exploited and incapable of honouring the basic elements of an employment "contract", those who feel that the rich are all "white" and useless, unable to even mop a floor, preoccupied with socialising, and those who feel that certain women's opinions should be censored, maybe now you do know just a little about me. Now you might understand that I do not feel mopping the floor is beneath me. I have done it, and continue to do it if need be, just not particularly well, it seems. Maybe now I don't fit your stereotype of someone who feels she is superior to the working-class woman, because I have done her job. Maybe you felt I thought I was also superior to you, maybe now you will think again. Don't! I do feel I am superior to you because you are racists, and I am not.

Burnt-out cars in Paris: didn't anyone see it coming?

2005-11-13T22:17:00.000+09:00

Last year, I had an interesting conversation with a young Harvard-educated lawyer from Cameroun. He was the son of a famous politician, but decided to shuck the comforts of his father's political legacy and try to make it on his own in the world.

His first stop after his Harvard doctor of jurisprudence degree was Paris, where he tried to enter the corporate world on the strength of his qualifications. He said, "the racism is so subtle. They'll never tell you that they won't hire you because you're black, but it's obvious because...look at my qualifications". Yet, despite the protests of his family to come back home, he went to the US, where the situation wasn't much better. He ended up in Australia doing more research and becoming even more over-qualified.

That conversation took place a year ago, and I think that it's why I wasn't so shocked at the Paris riots. From what this young man had told me, I felt that France had it coming.

The roots of the French riots, as reported by Peter Ford of the Christian Science Monitor, is based on this unspoken but deeply felt social division based on nationality and ethnicity. When I read of a social experiment into the problem, I recalled the Barbara Gloudon/Antoinette Haughton-Cardenas talk show conversations, in which people would complain about how they could not get jobs because of their addresses in certain Kingston communities. One of my lecturers at university told me how his hospital would refuse to hire people from certain addresses in downtown Kingston because the employees would probably let their friends into the hospital for a robbing spree.

One evening, I was on my way home from a meeting with a group of diplomats and the head of a government agency, who was giving me a lift home, told me that he never imagined that a person who was doing a Master's at UWI would live in my neighbourhood. He advised me to move to Mona, as it would be a better fit for my image. Another man asked me to adjust my resume because the things I've achieved by the time I hit my mid-twenties didn't look possible for someone that came from my neighbourhood. To add injury to the insult, he asked me to open my mouth so he could stick his wet, clammy tongue down my throat.

These two people hurt my feelings by what they said, but felt justified. What do you do when older, powerful and more influential men tell you that you should be ashamed of where you live? Move out of your home? Find a rich boyfriend to pay your rent?

One of my former friends did the latter, because she had ended up being neighbours with a prince charming who rescued her from poverty and too much pride. She ended up aborting his baby and having a brawl with his wife, whom he has never divorced. He left her for her cousin, who he said was more "fun".

I also had a lot of pride, but I decided that I would leave Jamaica. In protest, I vowed I would never come back.

What was wrong with my address anyway? I came from a good neighbourhood but apparently it was too far from Jacks Hill, Smoky Vale and Cherry Gardens, where my friends resided.

Below is the section I picked up from the Christian Science monitor. Sounds just like what has been happening in Jamaica for so many years. We are ashamed of our poverty ("poverty sucks!" as Rolls Royce advert puts it), so instead of acting proactively to end the social injustice, like saying "no, it's not fair", we take what other people have. Sadly, we take innocent lives as the spoils of war.

You see, Jamaica, the world's murder capital is no different from Paris over the past two weeks. Pent up anger about social oppression has to be expressed somehow. In Jamaica, there is robbery, rape and murder. In Paris, young men burn cars and fight with the police. I wonder which actions will cause social change in the end?

"Working class suburbs have become ethnic ghettos," says Marc Cheb Sun, who edits "Respect," a magazine aimed mostly at young black and North African readers. "That is the origin of the problem." And it is not easy for even ambitious young people to break out if they come from a district with a bad reputation, as Jean-Francois Amadieu, a university professor who founded the "Discrimination Observatory" discovered in experiments over the past year.

He sent out fictitious applications for sales jobs, allegedly coming from six different sorts of applicant, ranging from a white male to a woman of North African origins, all with the same résumé. Applicants writing from addresses known to be in "difficult" areas received half as many invitations to an interview as those from less notorious districts. The "North African" male candidate received five times fewer invitations than his white counterpart.

Invidia

2005-11-13T22:06:00.000+09:00

Latin Lyrics by Thomas Pflanz for Lesiem, Auracle/Times
English Prose text by Shaggy's girl for The Former Jamaican

Invidia Vipera Vipera
Carmina Invidiae
Quo Plura Habent Eo Ampliora Cupiunt

Early this morning, I went to my favourite spot for a BASE jump/free climb, even though I had a high fever. It was about 4 degrees on the ground. I went out there because I wanted to make one last autumn splat.

As I was checking my parachute, one of my team mates recalled an accident he had witnessed in Australia, and said how important it was never to skip the safety checks before diving off the cliff. For someone who has suicidal hobbies, I'm exceedingly paranoid, so I was sure that I would always check. I made it to the bottom of the gorge alive, again.

Clawing my way up the cliffside, I remembered a recent conversation with a close friend. I told her that Jamaican people are generally inconsistent. It's the one thing I can predict about them. In an earlier post, I alluded to it with respect to technology. We Jamaicans set out to do something, and we're gung-ho about it, but we sometimes quit in the middle.

I doubted this conclusion because I thought, well, how can a nation of people be inconsistent? But it has been nagging me for years now because I've never been able to put a name to the problem.

Then I remembered years ago, the gas riots, when UWI students were tear gassed during a demonstration. On telly, Prime Minister Patterson seemed rather bored with the guild of students, and I couldn't help feeling how shameful it was for this man to treat the students as if they had no right to sit with him in the first place.

It could have been our finest hour. But nothing happened. Except for one Chinese businessman who decided to liquidate his assets in Jamaica and return to Hong Kong. He would have stayed if we had fought it out to the bitter end. But we gave up after a few days. He didn't think that this was such a good environment for a new investment. I'm sure no one noticed. I did, because I was engaged to him, but I decided not to follow him.

At about the same time, there was a friend of mine from the US who invested $10 Million in some agricultural property in St. Thomas, only to arrive here and find that the soil was barren. JAMPRO officials told him that he shouldn't complain about the money because he is obligated to invest in Jamaica, as a returning resident. I knew where his $10 Million went. It went through the pockets of an alcoholic JAMPRO executive (whom I also knew at the time). He was blowing $200,000 at a time on suits and holding up Air Jamaica planes on the tarmac at Palisadoes. He lost his mind when his bisexual wife threw him out of the house and changed the locks.

Qui Invidet Minor Est
Parvum Parva Decent
Qui Invidet Minor Est
Adsidua Eminentis
Fortunae Comes
Invidia, Invidus

Years before all this, there was Shaggy's girl, at 19 years old. I was sent a very rudely worded letter saying that I had overdrawn my current account at a certain financial institution. I looked at the name on the document and saw that it was the same as mine, but I knew that the account did not belong to me. A customer service representative checked the account, and found out that the bank had made a mistake.

Being a feisty teenager, I wrote a letter to the bank's head of accounts, to remind her that I didn't get an apology for the embarrassment. She invited me to her office and let me know that I was lower than her and that I had no right to address letters to her. Her colleague, an assistant vice president, was also kind enough to reprimand me for my behaviour. Needless to say, although they made a mistake, they did not apologise to me even though they were obligated to do so. Why no apology? I was too young to appreciate it, or so they thought.

Beatius Est Magis
Dare Quam Accipere

What do all of these snippets have to do with "consistency"?

The shame tree. Shame is what causes us to retreat. Let's say we take one step of progress. The moment we confront some difficulty, or challenge, we stare at our hands, palms facing up. We stare at our hands as if to say "is this really me, am I really standing up for myself"?

Soon after, we continue to feel ashamed because people taunt us by saying things like "you don't know your place", "watch it", "you're nobody", "a wheh dah gyal deh feva?". What's worse is when someone asks: "who are you?" Then you are forced to describe your position in the social order and explain why you're violating the social rules that were carefully set out for you to follow. The next question they ask is, why are you the one to change the social rules? By whose authority?

The most insulting is the condescending tone in which people congratulate your ability as if to say, "you made it this far in spite of the fact that you're black". A black man wrote it in a book he gave to me as a gift, and a white man put it in a letter of recommendation that I asked him to write for me.

I understood the value of standing up for myself when I was 8, and noticed the discrepancy between rules for the straight-haired suck-finger-jack and her woolly-haired classmates who just needed a little more time to finish their classwork.

When I was 8 years old, I asked my homeroom teacher "Miss Gray, how come you never slap Dottie with your ruler? Is it because she has straight hair?" Dottie was of Indian/African descent and sucked her forefinger all day until it turned green. Even at that age, I knew that Miss Gray was being unfair to the rest of us, but I couldn't understand why. Miss Gray said "no", but couldn't give me a reason for the different rules. Still, she kept hitting my classmates with her ruler when they didn't get long division problems correct.

Dottie wasn't a bright spark, but Miss Gray never challenged her to study, so she never bothered. Later, during high school, she harboured these notions that her straight hair accorded her some privileged status, and became ashamed of her parents for being working class people. She also nurtured the unrealistic expectation that she would automatically qualify to become a doctor. When I graduated UWI, Dottie was still in first year of Nat Sci, although she started university a year before I did. I'm blaming Miss Gray's programming for that needless waste of time.

Being consistent in standing up for myself has been difficult. I've been teased, ostracised, held back, and ridiculed. When I threw myself off the cliff this morning, I realised that I could never have chosen this hobby if I were the sort of person to plea-bargain in the face of adversity. Compared to the anguish of being bullied and told to shut up, the danger of sliding off the rocks and breaking my neck at the bottom of a cold, stony gorge suddenly seemed so funny. I wedged myself in a crevice and laughed as hard as I could.

I was through with being intimidated.

Dream spillage

2005-11-04T21:23:00.000+09:00

Last night, I had an erotic dream about a middle-aged male colleague with wobbly legs, buck teeth and an ill-advised combover. I wouldn't normally find him attractive because he's always with male friends, and he boasts about treating his wife like crap. This was not a person I speak to on a regular basis, and he usually seems distressed when he has to speak to me. So I was shocked when he appeared in my dream...

In the dream we were lying together on the same bed, in a dormirtory full of other undesirable men. He looked into my eyes with the most seductive look a guy with a combover could muster, rolled me on my side and had intercourse with me very quietly--no grunting.

I remember thinking, "where are the contraceptives". (My erotic dreams always get interrupted over contraceptives, as if you could get an STD in your sleep). The sex didn't feel bad at all, but it was over in a millisecond. Then, when he rolled off me, suddenly all the men in the room threw off their blankets and rushed for the door, as if they were awakened by an alarm. I remember feeling embarrassed that people were waiting for us to finish having sex before getting up.

The dream wasn't the problem.

The most bizarre thing happened this morning. Mr. Combover made a presentation at my first meeting, and while I was looking casually in his direction, he intentionally gives me this knowing look that said: "you slut". It was the same look I saw in my dream! He had this silly, taunting grin every time our eyes met. Needless to say, I had a guilty look on my face all morning. I was so paranoid! What the hell was going on?

I've never had an affair with a colleague before, but I imagine that this is how people feel the morning after an unscheduled sexual encounter. Uneasy, embarrassed and unable to look at each other.

I'm glad it didn't actually happen.

Bad company: Who are your friends?

2005-11-02T17:41:00.000+09:00

Tommy Kimpton, a 19-year-old Briton is now on trial for murdering his best friend with a pool cue. He had been teased about being fat and big-eared. He said that his friend was only nice to him when other people were around:

“When we were on our own he was brilliant. He would let me talk about my problems — but as soon as we were in a group he would take the piss and always put me down.”

Tearfully recalling the fatal attack in his bedroom, he told the jury: “I said, ‘Why do you always wind me up?’ He said, ‘We don’t really mean it. I didn’t realise it upset you so much’. ”
But immediately after saying this, his tormentor started laughing.

Bullying is a serious issue, but people don't realise how badly they can hurt others with words. I can identify with Tommy's feelings because the same thing happened to me so often. I'm a loner now, not by choice, but because I feel that people would rather condemn me than try to understand me.

The peer pressure blog entry I made a few days ago was about that. I know two girls and a guy who are so nice to me when we're talking alone, but as soon as they are with a group of people, they would pick on me. My mother used to do that with one of my boyfriends. Another boyfriend used to tease me about how I behaved in bed, just because he knew it would piss me off. He was so stupid because I actually dumped him, and six years later when I decided to give him a chance, he did it again. This time, I talked to him like I would one of my clients and I actually felt sorry for him because I knew he felt bad.

I think I have been teased about every single thing that there is to be teased about. It's NOT okay for people to tease you, or to tell you what's wrong with you.

It's wrong to bully people, so unlike Tommy, who stuck with his friends, I kept these people at a distance, or cut them off completely.

Three to six years ago, I remember how the two girls and the guy used to sit together with some other Jamaican low lifes and say that I was stuck-up, and a snob. One girl tried to sabotage a new relationship of mine because she didn't have a boyfriend at the time.

Six years later, today, the two girls and the guy are all clients of mine, as I'm helping them recover from complete mental and physical breakdown. They left Jamaica to seek me out and saw that there were people who love, respect, and trust me. They were incredulous, maybe thinking that this was all a joke. After all, they know me by my flaws, not my redeeming qualities. And I'm black, and not of mixed race. How did they feel after entering my world? Envy. Jealousy. Instead of moving ahead from that point, we ended up right where we began.

In return for my advice, one of my "clients" let me know that he was sorry for me because I was too ambitious, and that my ambition would destroy me. Shortly afterwards, he came to ask me for a big favour that saved his career. He has since flown over the cuckoo's nest. He declared to me that he is God, and has decided that he is such a genius that only an obeah man can give him meaningful "spiritual advice". My advice means nothing to him because he sees me as a woman who wants to control his mind and body. I don't think his revived career will be of much use to him.

Another one told me I was a failure because I am voluntarily celibate. She is still express-fucking the man who smashed her ribs, broke her nose, screwed her sister and who exposed himself to HIV. Why? It's "too long to wait" to meet a man who will respect her.

I don't want to have anything to do with these tiresome people. They're unkind to me when other people are around, but so endearing when they get in trouble and need my help. The fact is, the nature of my work doesn't allow me to treat people with prejudice.

Sometimes I wish I could punish them for all the pain they put me through. I guess that coming back to me for help is punishment enough.

Peer pressure, or "mind your own damned business"

2005-10-30T21:06:00.000+09:00

I guess Jamaica has its own standards about what it takes to be "somebody".

I was just informed that in order to be a member of the Expatriates/Former expatriates/Returnee club in Jamaica, I have to own real estate ON Jamaican soil. I was also threatened with ostracism if I failed to comply. My financial assets are no one's business, so I was shocked when I was told what a failure I am because I don't own a house ON Jamaican soil. The last time I checked this blog, I was not vying for the Miss Jamaica Popularity contest, so why would I give a rat's ass what anyone thinks?

Two years ago, I had a conversation with a friend of mine, a North African diamond trader with 1 1/2 wives. I told him that I wanted to buy a house in JM. He laughed at me when I told him how much it would cost, and gave me the information on a house in Tuscany for a little less than that, with literally zero red tape. Just last week I talked myself out of buying a boat because although I fantasise about living on the bay, I get terribly sea-sick, so I can forget about piloting it myself. I bought myself a custom-built laptop computer instead. There is always a good reason to buy a new laptop.

If I don't buy the house in Jamaica, people will think I'm poor. That's okay. I'm an international hobo. My "friends" promised not to talk to me when (if) I visit Jamaica without stories about difficult tenants, property tax and mortgage rates.

The fact is, these people don't realise that what they really own are multiple mortgages. You don't own the house if mortgage deed is not in your possession. Don't bother boasting about what you own if you're still making payments on it.

Years ago, a client who was closing out his mortgage told me that if he had known how long it would have taken to repay a mortgage from a Jamaican financial institution, he would have bought his house with cash. I learnt from his mistake.

Furthermore, I'm not doing any business in Jamaica because the moment my name appears on a mortgage document, I'll be the subject of gossip. A: "Shaggy's girl is buying a house in Jamaica mi dear" B: "Lawks-a-massy missis she couldn' buy a bigga one? She a come back yah so?" A: "Mi nu know still" B: "She nuh have nuh 'ouse inna OOOOOO?" A: "Mi nuh know still".

Two years after I left home, I was traumatised once when a financial officer was bold enough to divulge my financial information to an inquisitive member of the Public. It's funny how no-one reprimanded her about that.

I feel that the persons who have threatened to ostracise me, are buying mortgages (not property) to prove that they are in the it crowd. Nothing wrong with that, although it really is an expensive way to buy your self-esteem

Fact is, they can't afford to live in any of the number of houses they've so grandly purchased. Nothing wrong with that.

All of them still live with their parents. Nothing wrong with that.

And they have no disposable income because they had to borrow money to make downpayments, which they're still paying back with part time work. Nothing wrong with that.

Some have even had to auction off their possessions so that they can afford to eat lunch at KFC. So they're both debt-ridden and obese. No comment.

Should I listen to these people bully me because I don't want to keep up appearances, because I'm honest about my financial situation?

I don't think so.

Preserving what raasclaat race?

2005-10-24T21:21:00.000+09:00

Rosa Parks died today, and it's ironic that I found this on the Jamaica Observer website:

MSN is a pretty dangerous forum these days...If you haven't received the email from a concerned citizen 'hoping to preserve the race' it's cos you're visibly black, yellow or brown. That's right not even the brown folks are wanted by those concerned that the race is being diluted. It's called SAME WAY SO. We'll keep you posted on this one. After all, it is from an elite upper St Andrew group.

At first, I had an emotional reaction to this story. How could I not take it personally? They didn't say "blacks only" or "mulattoes only". I thought they wanted to annihilate my own kind.

Such a mandate is not even legal. It hasn't been that long since generations of young people have been wiped out in Africa, Bosnia-Herzegovina and Croatia for the sake of ethnic purification. Not to mention the millions of blacks and Jews who died during WWII. There were also many South African blacks who died during apartheid.

"I am leaving this legacy to all of you ... to bring peace, justice, equality, love and a fulfillment of what our lives should be. Without vision, the people will perish, and without courage and inspiration, dreams will die — the dream of freedom and peace."

Rosa Parks
February 4, 1914 - October 24, 2005

Surely I thought it must be someone's idea of a sick joke, but then my memory got a big jolt. I had another fit of laughter at the idea because it really isn't as romantic and radical as it seems.

The Mail Order Groom
The daughter of an instantly recognisable Jamaican family of Lebanese origin was apparently bent on doing her own racial purification bit, so she hunted for and imported a husband from Denmark. He was a short, brown-haired, impish looking Caucasian. Kind of strange that of all the eligible bachelors on planet earth, a woman of her influence chose an unemployed white man in his 40s to marry. It couldn't have been love because, while I'm not sure what he did for work, I do know what he did during his spare time.

Three months after arriving in Jamaica, he became obsessed with a Jamaican masseuse, a friend of mine. She was a short, dark-skinned, flawless woman with a fabulous body. This was her job, so he had to pay for her time. Thing is, he fell in like with her and decided to spend as much time as possible with her. Not that she felt the same way--I mean, this was a woman who had spent time with some of the most influential businessmen in Jamaica. He was just another unemployed lout to her and did nothing for her already impressive resume of clients.

He decided he could woo her by inviting her over to the house one afternoon to a cocktail party hosted by his wife for a bunch of upper St. Andrew aristocrats. Why? To show that even though he was a kept man, he had balls. My friend balked at the idea because after all, she would come face to face with the wife, no? He said, "I invited you, and you are my guest. Just ignore her".

The masseuse went to the party out of curiosity, and ended up having a big laugh about it. I don't know if the Dane and the Lebanese princess are still married, but the masseuse soon dumped him for being too "needy and boring". That, and because he didn't have his own money.
I thought about what's happening here and I realised that it's pretty much a parallel to the trend of former beauty pageant contestants who marry rich so they can offer their "beauty genes" to some rich, ugly sop.

Why Jamaica Observer closed down the talkback service

2005-10-24T10:38:00.000+09:00

Just had to do this post, even though the article is old. I know that I'm not the only one who talks about the hilarious reporting of the Jamaica Observer.

Shaggy's Girl: Did you notice that the Jamaica Observer's Talkback service is out of service?

Shaggy: Yes. Why's that?

Shaggy's Girl: Because their reporters are frauds.

Shaggy: What do you mean?

Shaggy's Girl: Well, I noticed that there was this jackass of an article online, which appeared in the "Social Lives" section.

Shaggy: Isn't that your favourite section?

Shaggy's Girl: Yes, it is. But let me continue. The Chester Francis-Jackson that I had written about in an earlier post had been at it (being a jackass) for a while. Here is what he said, verbatim.

"In agreeing with Cooper, however, on the dynamics that is language, one must part company with his reasoning in galloping attempt to defend Ms Hughes's choice of the word 'compassionateness'"

Shaggy: Huh?

Shaggy's Girl: I know you didn't go to school, so let me gallop to say that he means "I disagree with Mr. Cooper". (keeling over with laughter). But please, let me gallop ahead with my point. (chocking).

Shaggy: I don't see what's so funny.

Shaggy's Girl: (gulping down some water). Okay... Here are the comments that were posted in reply to the jackass article.

Comment 1: This is such a stupid, baseless use of space.

Comment 2: If we are going to write a social column and bash people about grammar, we should get our grammar correct. I refer to: "Also lunching was the fabulous Dr Saphire Longmore; Lotto's Eugene Flokes; Dunlop Corbin's Guernsey Beckford and son Gavin Beckford; the lovely Sandra Cammock; plus several others." CORRECTION: "Also lunching WERE..."

Comment 3: A waste of space indeed! Whats all this "Luvs" and "Doves" crap? And whats this ridiculous reference to Halle Berry's husband Eric, as "godling!". Save those words for people who went to your grammar school.

Shaggy + Shaggy's girl: (keeling over with laughter).

Shaggy: Ah hah! I get it! The Jamaica Observer shut down the talkback service because the people who write the articles write like crap.

Generation Next Fights for Power

2005-10-17T21:45:00.000+09:00

I wonder if lawyers in Jamaica make a lot of money? I remember being at a cult meeting of the Kingston Church of Christ and seeing a tall, ugly, scrawny son-of-a-bitch preaching about his BMW and his ex-girlfriend. Was that from his salary? That was 6 years ago.

I wonder if lawyers in Jamaica have any clout? I ask this because Tanasha Buchanan has been trying to get voted into office at UWI since I was there, years ago. She's still at it.

I saw a news item about Tanasha, who apparently incensed about "unfair elections" for the UWI Guild of Graduates. That's her photo.

[I'm assuming that she's divorced from her husband since she's still using her maiden name. I didn't quite catch the husband's name...just heard that he was in "Englan'").]

Tanasha is a young girl, 28, and though we haven't spoken in a long time I wonder why she is so interested in becoming a household name at the intellectual ghetto that is known as UWI, Mona. I read her statement to the press, and I am not sure whether I should be amazed at her low ambition or her public speaking skills. I've highlighted the words that remind me of the "Mumma-lashie" I know so well.

"All the rules in the election booklet that we were supposed to follow were broken on the day of the election," Buchanan, 28, told the Observer. "Candidates were soliciting votes by promising and giving phone cards, lunch tickets and dem thing there. I have witnesses who say that they (the candidates) were giving away stuff."

This is not a grammar class, of course, but this adult (is 28 adult nowadays?), UWI graduate who talks about "dem thing there", and "stuff", represents our intellectual elite. In other countries, someone would jump on her for talking like that to the press.

Miss Buchanan's bid for a UWI Guild post defied logic at first. I mean, who cares about the stinking Guild of Graduates? But, I thought about it, and I realise that Tanasha might be fuming at the fact that two of her contemporaries Kern Spencer and Floyd Morris managed to gain seats in the Senate while she, an upper middle class woman is still trying to be recognised?

After all, the people I went to UWI with are between 26 and 32, and they all have jobs that are considered to be prestigious in Jamaica. A few 30-year-old principals, 28-year-old public relations managers, trade consultants, pilots, 27-year-old doctors, lawyers, etc. But, who can top being a senator? No matter how you look at it, this person is helping to make decisions that will affect our personal affairs. It must have been a real shock to Tanasha. No doubt she has some interesting "behind the scenes" stories to tell.

Look Tanasha, not all that glitters is gold.

Tanasha is from a privileged background. She is open-minded, honest and very personable. Not a pretentious hair on her well-coiffed head. With all these positive personal qualities, I think she would be better off focussing her energies on something meaningful, like building her own Legal Empire.

Off with their heads!

Just as a lark...

2005-10-12T19:41:00.000+09:00

Just as a lark, I went to my profile page and I clicked on Kingston, St. Andrew and Jamaica, to see who was blogging.

I was amused to see that most of the bloggers had given up after about one post, after going to a lot of trouble to set up a blog site on blogger.

Jamaica does not have a cyberculture, which may be a good thing. I remember having such a good social life (and a great deal of hot sex) when I was living in Jamaica, that having a website would have felt pretentious. I would be a complete asshole if I spent 2 hours updating my website, when my legs could be wrapped around my man's waist, or when I could be enjoying a film on telly with my family. So I guess these people have better things to do with their time.

But wait, there is a rather sensible blogger out there. While I was browsing this evening, I bumped into a blogger named Landfall, a gay male who lives in Kingston, Jamaica. Coincidentally, I bumped into this post after writing a rant about closet gays who get involved with women to hide their sexuality.

Of course we're quite different, but we have so much in common. Lost touch with some aspect of ourselves, single, childless, trying to communicate with some unnamed entity out there to release what's eating away at us. This blog makes sense to me. It's not trying to prove anything...

I'm happy that Landfall took the time to write about his life as a person, and not just to give salacious details of his sex life. Jamaican homophobia exists in part because we only think of "sexual intercourse" when we think of gay men, and we don't really see the person.

I hope he continues to blog past the two posts that are on his blogsite. He has a very interesting story to tell. It may just help to break the spell.

Wolmer's Old Boys: Three-step formula

2005-10-11T19:00:00.000+09:00

Unlike the other long posts, where I did detailed analyses, I think Wolmer's old boys are too fabulous for extensive personality profiling. Basically, I think women should do one or all of the following three things with a Wolmer's Old Boy:

1. Shag him rotten.
2. Marry him.
3. Have his child.

Repeat no. 1 (as often as desired), and no. 3 (twice).

How to tell if your man is gay

2005-10-09T14:38:00.000+09:00

In the spirit of discussing men who use women as "beards", or as companions who distract others from their true sexuality, I would like to give a word of warning to Jamaican women.* I think that it's really difficult for us to tell if our man is gay because our society forces them into hiding. We don't have any references for what a gay man is all about. One of my Jamaican girlfriends was in her 30's before she actually met an "out" gay person, and she was well-travelled. Just to tell you how sheltered Jamaican women can be, she thought homosexuality was a character flaw, a weakness.

I was reading a comment by Mimi Rogers on why she split with Tom Cruise. Mimi said that her instrument needed tuning, but that Tom said that he thought (a) sex interfered with his desire for purity, and that (b) he wanted to become a monk.

Just after I posted the comment on the no-sex Katie Holmes' marriage contract situation, a few things became clear to me. Of course, these are more theories.

This one tiny theory I'll talk about here. Jamaican girls, please dump your (Jamaican) man if he says the following:

(a) I don't like sex so much
(b) "I want to become a monk"
(c) "Why is everything about sex?" (this is only shocking if you're in an intimate relationship)
(d) "My boss is a god" (or he talks about his boss as if he's the cat's pyjamas).

I had one boyfriend who said all of the above, had a very short relationship with a guy who said (b) and knew another person who said (d). ALL of them prefer masturbation over actual sexual intercourse. They will give you every justification in the book, and they will accuse you of being the sex freak. One boyfriend (a Jamaican) called me every single night during a business trip to Europe to engage in mutual masturbation, but didn't accept my offer get on a plane to come there and fuck him. I have a normal libido (considering what's "normal" nowadays), but these guys made me feel like a nymphomaniac.

One boyfriend would sit in front of the porno channel and jack off while I was sleeping (we were living together). When I offered to help, he turned me down. Of course, I dumped him, but not before screwing everyone else to find a truly heterosexual man to date. I knew for a fact that the boyfriend had had two oral sex encounters with men between the time he was 5 and 22. He and the other acquaintance were madly in love with their hetersexual male bosses, and would talk about them all the time. I would get vivid descriptions, and quotes, and I'd be told why these people were sent by the Lord Almighty himself. Listen, a heterosexual man is supposed have hunter-gatherer instincts, so begin to ask questions when he is suddenly obsessed with being dominated by another man. More than likely, it's not a career thing...it's all about the sex.

Straight men usually do the same thing when they meet a new woman that they're having an affair with. The wife or girlfriend will hear about the new woman whether she wants to or not. The man will spend a lot of time with the new woman before deciding to leave the wife or girlfriend. That's cut and dry, but in the case of your closet gay, he can't have sex with the man because that man is not interested. It's simply a case of unrequited love that the Jamaican gay man will use to punish himself for having (illegal) homosexual tendencies in the first place. After all, it's better to fantasise about the sex than to actually get beaten to death, right?

These two guys would occasionally adopt very effeminate poses, including, and I swear, a toss-your-head-and-look-over-the-shoulder Marilyn Munro pout.

So, girls, if your man doesn't like to have sex with you, dump him. If he wants to become a monk/priest, can't stop talking about his very "masculine" boss get suspicous. If he says that jerking off alone is "safe sex", he's referring to anal sex with other men...not you. Dump. If he starts adopting Richard Simmons-like poses while you're not playing charades, run, run, run, as fast as you can!

*Disclaimer: Shaggy's girl does not condone violence against homosexuals, she just thinks the world would be a better place if they all came out of the closet.

Breast is best: One woman's source of power

2005-10-03T21:26:00.000+09:00

I feel sorry for the Jamaica Observer's Sharon Leach.

She said:

I take comfort in little victories like, the other day, when a male friend looked down at my shirt, smiled a dazzling smile that hinted at something more, and said, "Shar, you know, you really have nice breasts." Forget about it. That's my power right there.

Sharon Leach just wrote an article called "My breasts - my power" in the All Woman section of the Jamaica Observer. I decided to jump right on it for several reasons.

Reason 1. Jamaica Observer Sex Politics

The Jamaica Observer needs an in-house therapist. Given the level of "feeling up" that takes place between the male and female staff there, it's not surprising that an article like this gets the go-ahead for publishing.

Reason 2. Love thyself first
It's okay to love parts of your body, but to use them to make friends is still a little retrograde, if not a little sad. Women strive to be beautiful now for the sake of it, to have their own power and not to get recognised. It's okay to flaunt your breasts, but it gets tacky (vulgar?) when you do it just because there's a guy watching.

Sharon strikes me as the kind of woman who would allow herself to stay in an emotionally unsatisfying relationship with the rationale that she is getting regular sex. Women who don't have sex are pathetic, right? (Myself included). Sharon should watch out because a man will go after what he wants, but he will take what is offered on the way there. Sharon is attractive so she doesn't have to go there.

Reason 3. More body fat=larger breasts.

Sharon forgot to mention in her article that the reason her breasts got larger was that she is fat. One look at her photo hints that her breasts may be competing for prominence with other body parts such as her mid-section, her thighs, or her derrierre. If Sharon's breasts had grown larger by themselves, I would have been impressed, but a C-cup in proportion to the size of her body seems quite small still. If Sharon lost 10 kilos and kept her breasts at the same C-cup, every woman in the free world would jump on her diet bandwagon.

I now understand why she has to poke 'em forward.

McDonald's leaving Jamaica

2005-10-02T16:44:00.000+09:00

I'm loving it!

The good news is that the McDonald's fast food chain is leaving Jamaica. There were too many fast food restaurants there anyway.

Why, Jamaican cuisine is the among the most flavourful in the world, so why would anyone want to trade that for bland frozen crap? I know that Jamaican taste buds are rather discriminating, and we only eat what we can taste.

Homecooked meals are better. Norma Henry runs "Norma's" on Whitehall Avenue in Kingston. Ask any taxi driver in Kingston to take you to Norma's and they'll never ask twice. I also knew business executives who would call her up and swing by late in the evening to buy delicious meals. I gained about 10kg because I was addicted to her delicious oxtail. There is something about those thin white boxes that give the food such good flavour. That, and knowing the meal was prepared for someone who cooked it from scratch, makes it that much more enjoyable.

I miss the food stalls on the street in downtown Kingston, where you can buy ackee and saltfish for breakfast or fricaseed chicken and escoveitched fish for lunch. I can smell it now. Gravy! Who would have guessed I would miss something as common as gravy.

Only my mother's meals taste better.

There are too many good cooks in Jamaica to leave it all up to foreign "express food". We should be exporting our Boston Jerk Chicken and Tastee's and Juicy Beef patties to the world.

Even in this obscure part of the world, I walk into restaurants and see Jamaican herbs and spices in their original bottles, proudly on display on the tables as part of the restuarant's decor. Clients don't even realise that they are sitting in front of a truly Jamaican product.

I think that the exit of North American fast food restaurants will leave Jamaica open to an indigenous slow food market. In that market, we would support each other and develop a domestic profit.

Here's hoping that we develop and market our "brand" more effectively in the years to come.

Et misericordia eius in progenies et progenies timentibus eum

2005-09-30T11:29:00.000+09:00

Blogtherapy?

I guess ranting does get things out of your system, doesn't it? It's been good to just write down things that really shouldn't go in my personal journal.

I had that a lot of crap in my system, and there are too many people in Jamaica who believe that skin colour is a qualification for contributing to society. Something had to be done, so I started writing.

I was really homesick, but I don't want to go home because I'm stubborn.

That's the way things have to be. I'm not interested in revisiting the past, because going home, even for a short time would be the equivalent of stepping into a time warp. You know...people talking to you as if you were 5 years old, or reminding you of what you looked like when you left, or reminding you of things you did or said. That, and the prospect of bumping into my ex-boyfriends is quite scary.

I'd rather just ride the wave of the future. Enjoy the moment and live my dreams.

Older mothers epidemic: The real deal

2005-09-16T17:40:00.000+09:00

I was just reading this article on the Times Online website (see excerpt below). I thought that it is very one-sided to say that women who wait until their mid-thirties to have children are taking unnecessary health risks.

That's fine, but what about the women who want to have children but who can't find fathers? If we can't find sex partners, how are we supposed to even get pregnant? At what age should women start worrying about their biological clocks when they're unmarried, unattached and are not sexually active? I wish some of those gynaecologists would try to answer those questions. I wonder how many of them are in this same siutation?

I wonder if anyone has ever considered that there are career women who are career women because they don't have a choice. There are women who would rather be barefoot and pregnant but can't meet men so, instead, they plug themselves into their work (and become good at it).

A friend of mine told me that she got so angry when people would tell her that she has a boyfriend/partner/husband because she is very attractive. People accuse her of lying when she says she doesn't. Since she is attractive, she doesn't get introduced to single men because people think that she doesn't need to meet more men. Strange. I know many beautiful women who say that they want to have a relationship and get married and take care of the house, but that they haven't been on a date since leaving university.

I find it strange that all of my unmarried women friends are not in relationships. There is nothing wrong with them, so...what gives?

Our lives conflict with media images that tell us that women who are beautiful, stylish, brilliant, confident and emotionally mature are already mothers with loving husbands, or have many suitors, or enjoy the luxury of serial dating. Someone is telling us that we have it all, but we don't.

In truth, we go to the spa for oxygen facials, eyelash perms, pedicures and a brazilian wax to feel sexy... prepared for that fateful meeting. For all the trouble and expense, we might as well grow beards, because it all seems to be in vain.

Then, we step out of the spa and glide past women with beards, avec husband and children. Did they have beards before or after they got married?

"Where are all the single men who are supposed to be chasing us?" This question may sound like rubbish to some people, but really it is a myth that all of us young bright women are having hot sex with all the eligible bachelors of the world.

I would really like to hear the men's side because it seems to me that if we're not getting any, then they should have the same problem.

September 16, 2005

Older mothers 'epidemic' a danger to health, doctors warn women
By Sam Lister

Doctors warn women not to put their careers before having children - they may live to regret it

AN “EPIDEMIC of middle-aged pregnancy” threatens the health of mothers and babies as a growing number of women delay having children to pursue their careers.

An editorial today in the British Medical Journal gives warning of the risks run by women who wait until their mid-thirties before trying for children. It refers to the growing number of cases of age-related fertility problems and other health complications.

The authors, all obstetricians and gynaecologists, said that the “have it all” generation of women who go for careers first, then try for children, were defying the natural progression of their biological clocks. They said that many seemed unaware that they could miss out on motherhood altogether.

Relativity

2005-09-14T01:03:00.000+09:00

It's vulgar to point out other people's physical flaws, especially when they're obvious.

Would anyone go to a person with one leg and go, "you have one leg"? That would seem retarded, wouldn't it? Did Paul McCartney say that to Heather Mills? "Hey Heather, you're beautiful, but you have one leg. Do you think you could grow another one?" I wonder if she would have married him and had his child if he constantly reminded her that she had one leg. That would have been boneheaded considering how she contributed to society. Plus, when did physical imperfections stop people from having good relationships? There are men, however, who would overlook everything she did and focus on the missing leg.

"I'm flawed/you're flawed/so we're both okay" cannot be a useful or valid formula for relating to other human beings.

It's very insensitive to say to someone "I notice XYZ". How does that help the relationship forward? I sometimes wonder what goes through a man's mind when he says that.

If someone came to me and said "you're a black woman", I would wonder what they left out. Duh. I'm black. So? But that's not a flaw. However, there are people who were retarded enough to do that. Strangely enough, no one would come up to me and say "you're near-sighted" even though that's a flaw. I am proud of my heritage. Being near-sighted is darned uncomfortable.

But I'm straying from my point:

Men who are obsessed with women's physical flaws are flawed human beings.

Men who are obsessed with women's physical flaws are flawed themselves.

They are insecure or feel inferior to the women they make fun of. Pointing out a woman's physical imperfections allows the man to validate himself. He can say "hey, I'm not so bad. Look at you". What kind of person derives his own self-esteem from seeing others relative to himself? This is not true or unconditional acceptance. This is a form of bullying.

A man cannot love me and tease me about my imperfections at the same time. I would much prefer to be challenged for being self-centred and overwrought, you know, issues that actually have an impact on a relationship. If a man meets a woman he can't accept, warts and all, he should bow out of the relationship gracefully instead of trying to get her to feel grateful.

"Remind her that she isn't all that. Let her know that although everyone else may think she is perfect, she has flaws that I know about."

Recently, a guy I dated very very briefly (he's in his early 50's) made comments about my hair (which is kinky) needing "attention". On our 2nd date. Kinky hair is a genetic trait. Apparently, he had only dated women with straight hair and he had never dated a woman who had more than a high school education. On date 3, he went on to inform me that my religion was "idol worship" and made derisive remarks about the fact that I was financially independent. Idol worshipping was my lifestyle choice, and financial independence is something I worked for. At the time he was pontificating on my life, he was living rent free in a friend's apartment (house-sitting) and didn't have enough money to buy his own meals. I mention this because food was cheap in that city. I tolerated him up until the end of that week because I was so amused that someone could justifiably say things like that to me. I wanted to see exactly how his mind worked.

A few years ago, I was slightly overweight. I wasn't very fat but I was lumpy, and I had a boyfriend who was so proud to be seen with me, not because of what I looked like but because of who I was. He made me forget that I felt insecure about being fat.

The guy I dumped to be with him had given me a detailed analysis of my ass while we were at our romantic hideaway in rural Jamaica. "Your ass doesn't look good anymore". He was an unemployed alcoholic who was 50Kg overweight himself. I was alone with him in a cottage in the middle of the countryside late at night, with no cell-phone reception, so I knew it wouldn't be safe to walk away just then. The moment I left the cottage and got back to Kingston, the relationship was over.

My new boyfriend, who loved my chunky ass, was quite the opposite: a passionate squash player and long-distance runner whose family had owned a sizeable chunk of upper St. Andrew. I never once felt inferior to him.

The dumped guy ended up dating a fat and exceptionally unattractive woman with mental problems who barely finished high school (I'm contrasting this to his graduate school diploma). "She needs me...", was what I remember hearing as his rationale for choosing her. Uh huh.

Asshole!

Kingston College Old Boys: The boys who can have everything

2005-09-09T18:01:00.000+09:00

The thing that strikes you about the Kingston College old boy is his earthy sexiness. These guys do not go around trying to look well-manicured but they have style. They're grunge on the outside but high culture on the outside, and this shocks people. They're also very self-confident, which is why they are among the smartest men in Jamaica. And the most dangerous sexual predators on earth.

The opposite of JC old boys, Kingston College (KC) old boys are actually smart but they don't know it. The ones who do know it usually surprise themselves when they do great things. They're the young achievers and trailblazers.

Because they're not necessarily pretty boys on the outside, they tend to feel surprised when they get a lot of female attention. They see the woman they want, go after her, and in mid-sentence they start self-criticising. After inventing every reason why they don't deserve the girl, they'll leave the woman of their dreams heart-broken.

KC old boys are sensitive, but not towards others. They're sensitive only about their own egos and pride, so one harsh word will usually send them scurrying for the nearest rock. Forever.
It may seem like a paradox, but you'll always find a KC old boy at a political rally and in human rights groups, the ringleaders of mud-slinging.

KC old boys are fast learners, curious and adventurous, which is why they become easy prey to women who want to toy with them. They can never say no to a good opportunity. This is where they get their reputations as players.

KC old boys who can get over their self-mutilating tendencies will find that they can save the world and get the girl.

Political Asylum

2005-09-04T06:03:00.000+09:00

Every now and again, I get the same e-mail from friends back home in Jamaica. Do you remember Staceyann Chin from UWI? Then they send me a link to her website.

The persons who send me the link are of course excited by the fact that they know someone who's famous. That's okay, but that's not the point of this rant.

I have been pondering an idea since I got the zillionth e-mail this week, and I looked further into it to test my theory.

I pondered the question:

"What IF, Staceyann Chin is not gay?"

I had my suspicions after reading some of the posts on her cyberjournal, interviews about her background, and some newspaper articles. Actually my suspicions came from her own words in two instances. One was in her cyberjournal, and the other was made during an interview:

Instance 1:

There was no prejudice because I belonged to a class of people, I was light skinned and I had had tertiary education before because I had gone to Sharpe Teacher's College so I participated at a level that was good. I fit in in alot of ways.

The first time I noticed huge prejudice was when I discovered in a weird sort of way if one can say that one discovers that one likes women.

Comment: Fine. So here is the set up. She enjoys being "privileged" because of her Chinese heritage but discovers prejudice after experimenting sexually. Everyone at UWI experimented sexually or remained virginal until graduation. There was simply no middle ground. The people who didn't use condoms either got pregnant, or infected with HIV. Hell, I did some strange things, but I didn't label myself because of it. I certainly didn't make it public.

In an article on her life, I am reminded that she was "born into poverty and abandoned by her parents". Staceyann says that Jamaica has a way of glorifying people's skin shade and ignoring their social class because of it. Because of her humble background she didn't realise that certain behaviours and activities belonged in the realm of a particular social class. Most people would say that Staceyann was "country come to town".

I believe that Stacyann may have sufferedostracism because she refused to keep her mouth shut about her sex life. The fact is that homosexuals in Jamaica value their privacy very highly, so it doesn't do for a country girl to go around pointing fingers at her lovers. She got on the wrong side of the Jamaican middle class, when she sought to introduce their private hobbies to the free world. She has a big mouth, which is why she is a good poet, but it also contributed to her predicament.

One of my friends organised orgies on his yacht off the south coast of Jamaica and would always try to get me to come along. I wonder what would have happened if I had gone, and afterwards boast that I did it with X, Y and Z? Assisted suicide? Probably. Being alienated by her newfound social group, Staceyann got off easy.

Instance 2:

So now, I live in a world where Blackness, defines African-American-ness. Whiteness as Caucasian. And the other races incidental and certainly not related in polar terms. Now what do I do?

You find the Queer community.

Comment: In other words, armed with an degree from UWI, she decided to go on a quest to regain her "special" and "privileged" status. Imagine her shock when she went to New York and found that she was just another black girl! Nothing wrong with that, but Jamaicans are blinded to their own place in the world that this would be an overwhelming experience. To survive this second wave of shock, she went to New York and told everyone there that she was a political refugee. Partly to ensure that she would remain a welcome guest, and partly to get back at the people who pushed her out of their group.

She's a smart girl and a survivor, having figured out exactly what people in first world countries will enjoy. There is nothing special about being half-Jamaican, half-Chinese; however, they will listen to talk about anti-gay people in Jamaica. It's so easy to stomp on a developing nation when it's down. Powerful people will fight for the rights of homosexuals, but they won't fight for racial or ethnic minorities.

I don't believe that Staceyann Chin is a lesbian. I think she is a self-centred girl who longs to feel special because she lost the love of her parents. When read her poetry, I see that one is forced to either agree or disagree, and I'm not sure that her sexuality is any of my business.

Poets like Mutabaruka speak for a group of people and allow others to identify with his words. He doesn't attack you for not listening; instead, he says what he has to say and offers you a choice. Either way, you can be his friend.

On the other hand, Staceyann Chin uses rejection to promote her poetry.

The prejudice she experienced was class prejudice (true bigotry) and not necessarily social prejudice. I wish she were honest enough to say that even though she once enjoyed attention because she was fair-skinned, that it was wrong to divide people because of colour. I'm disappointed that she goes to New York and tries to involve her audience in a discussion about her fair skin (as opposed to her Chinese heritage) and how she had a privileged status in Jamaica because of that. It shows how deeply this issue affects Jamaicans. Even her observers note that she is a woman of colour. I think she still has a far way to go before she can come to accept herself. The danger, however, is that once she frees herself of this delusion, her artistic source will dry up.

Despite what Staceyann claims about the gay lifestyle in Jamaica, there are quite a few male and female gay couples in Jamaica who live together openly and no one bothers them. Upper middle class people can do it because they are powerful enough to not be bothered by lower classes of society. Homosexuality, however, is not a lifestyle choice extended to the lower strata of Jamaican society, to which Staceyann belongs.

During colonialism, slaves had no choice but to breed for their masters. Therefore, open practice of homosexuality removes the likelihood of breeding and contributing to building the working classes of society. Homosexuality (by both genders) also weakens the power men have always enjoyed over women. Penises have always served as tools for women's immobility, no pun intended. If men are sticking it into each other, they won't be able to supress women in society by making them pregnant. If women aren't waddling around with pregnant bellies or breast feeding, they'll have quite a lot of time to stir up trouble.

I am ambivalent to Staceyann's work, but I do feel that unless she reaches beyond her self interests and personal pain, she'll end up repeating herself like a broken record.

Truly great artists were always able to do well in spite of their hardships, insecurities and weaknesses.

Things I realised today...

2005-09-03T08:25:00.000+09:00

As I was sipping my morning coffee and waiting for my computer to light up, I realised a few things:

A promise bracelet is just a piece of woven string. So how could I tie my hopes and dreams to cotton thread? I cut mine off this morning, to a rather dubious look from a supersitious friend.
Five years after our first "aha moment" meeting, I am still madly in love with AHE. I woke up this afternon from my nap, and I realise that I do, truly love him. And you know what? So what if he doesn't love me back? I enjoy this feeling of unconditional love. I am happy, and it has nothing to do with his actions or words. It just has to do with my accepting him as he is. He is perfect as is. I don't have to hold him responsible for my feelings and I don't want to be responsible for his either. AHE, wherever you are, I hope that you are really and truly happy. I love you.
Parents try to live their unfulfilled ambitions through their children so that they can be cared for in their old age. Children need to have their own dreams, and be free to have none.
Change/personal growth = Becoming the person I really am in the first place.

Jamaica College Old Boys: Personality Profile

2005-08-29T20:48:00.000+09:00

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

2005-08-28T14:39:00.000+09:00

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

2005-08-25T17:05:00.000+09:00

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

2005-08-24T22:33:00.000+09:00

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

2005-08-20T10:07:00.000+09:00

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

2005-08-15T21:28:00.000+09:00

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

2005-08-14T18:09:00.000+09:00

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

2005-08-13T09:18:00.000+09:00

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

2005-08-11T23:26:00.000+09:00

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

2005-08-11T11:56:00.000+09:00

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

2005-08-10T15:49:00.000+09:00

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

2005-08-10T11:35:00.000+09:00

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

2005-08-10T10:17:00.000+09:00

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

2005-08-07T11:55:00.000+09:00

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?

2005-08-04T21:03:00.000+09:00

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

2005-08-03T19:33:00.000+09:00

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?

2005-08-03T01:55:00.000+09:00

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...

Forbidden fruit

2005-07-31T19:23:00.000+09:00

What would Xena do?

I have this thing for men in their late 30's to early 40's. They've lost their youthful brashness; the confidence that everything they do is without fault. They're softer to touch, even when they're bulked up by hours of weight-lifting. They're also kinder to women because by that time they've figured out what women want.

I feel like if I met someone in his late 30's, we would be able to work out our issues without trying to murder each other.

Anyway, there's this one: he's 41 and he's the husband of a colleague of mine. She (my colleague) and I used to be really close, but we hardly talk much. I think it was that time when she, I and her husband went to dinner and he said I have a nice body. I guess it was the only way he could say it because he is not a fluent English speaker. I bumped into the couple today at the entrance of the health club, as they were on their way out. I wonder if he realises that I think he's hot?

Doesn't matter. As long as I don't spend any time with him, I think I'll be okay.

...Xena would invite him to a threesome with Gabrielle.

Xena: The 10th Planet

2005-07-31T10:45:00.000+09:00

I can't help but be amused at the news reports about the 10th planet, and particularly in the UK's Observer Newspaper. Michael Brown, a member of the team that discovered the planet reportedly said "we have always wanted to name something Xena". How dorky is that?
Actually, I feel a bit smug about it, because now my hero will become immortal.

What's even more amusing is the allegation that a hacker found the information and threatened to leak it to the press. The Palomar Observatory website is so unattractive that I can't imagine someone choosing to hack the site unless it was for hacking homework.

Astronomers can't agree on Xena's classification, and some of them have got emotional over the proposed demotion of Pluto to "asteroid" status.

What's bad is that other people's children have to actually study this crap at school.

All Hail Xena, Warrior Princess!!!

vita frugalis

2005-07-31T10:41:00.000+09:00

I had been doing the "minimalist" thing for quite a few years, but I realise that if I don't make the effort to look feminine, then I won't stand out. I just didn't care what I put on, or what I looked like, as long as I was comfortable

So, I went on a campaign to revamp my image two years ago. I wanted to look eatable and approachable, but I wanted to change in stages. I started by wearing at least two coats of mascara, and ended up wearing unreasonably high heels. I wanted to see if this new look would have different results than my previous this-is-not-really-my-body look.

I was very defensive about my transformation, and I actually stopped speaking to someone who criticised my designer mules when I tripped on a fault in the pavement on the street. I had almost injured myself, but his response was "what, you can't walk in the shoes?" (The shoes had no heels). I guess he felt that I had bitten off more than I could chew, but being a black Jamaican woman means that I should be chic.

So, I guess that one side effect is that my ego became more fragile.

Now that the makeover is complete, I get compliments every single day, I get photographed more often, and people have been increasingly obliging (especially men). However, I've had zero dates so far in these two years ago (the ignoramus above doesn't count). Strangely enough, when I didn't give a shyte what I looked like, I had no problems at all.

Having become more self-aware, I'm not sure what has changed in the appeal. I'm not about to make a guess. At least I have a good sense of humour about that and I feel good about myself.

The women are not as nice as the men because this might have hit them out of nowhere. What's worse is, they don't know what to think because I'm single, so by all appearances, I'm doing this for a man.

I get rather nasty stares every day from women under 40. Women in their 30's and 20's cling a little more tightly to their boyfriends in the mall. One of my friends has avoided me since her husband told me (in front of her) that I have a "nice body".

Besides the psychological costs, image transformations are expensive if your ass increases to twice it's original size.

Note: Only my ass has increased in size. The rest of me is the same. Unbelievable! My breasts should be growing to twice their size, not my ass!

Because of my strange shape, I can't buy anything off the rack even though I'm underweight.

I make up for all that by wearing handmade accessories, but that doesn't stop anyone from staring at my ass.

I highly recommend image transformations as a good way of finding out what the world wants from you.

Is there any such thing as the free press?

2005-07-31T10:39:00.000+09:00

This complaint is about the Jamaica Star Forum. They have a habit of ditching posted replies to comments that don't fit into the "official line". Check the Fashion, Beauty and Lifestyle section of the web forum. In all fairness, the topics are current, and interesting, but the persons who moderate the board seem to be friends of some of the people who are discussed there.

If a post is too "hot" or controversial, someone deletes it without warning, or notice. I have seen complaints from the members of the forum in recent months, and from one of the brown-nosing administrators. What I find is that the web administrators collaborate in their criticism or praise of a particular individual who is recognised in the fashion and beauty industry.

For example, I posted a thread about a former Miss Jamaica World who is the bastard child of a Guyanese and Jamaican (the mother was married to someone else at the time). In Jamaica that is called "a jacket". It is common knowledge that she had a nervous breakdown after hearing the news. If she were disliked by the media, they would have pointed that out. What is wrong with saying that? I didn't even say her name, but EVERYONE knew who I was talking about. I won't write her name here, but if you have lived in Jamaica during the past 11 years, you will know what I'm talking about.

I will be posting my intended replies to topics on that forum on this blog.

The same goes for The Jamaica Observer. So selective in what they report. I used to work there so I know that it is a good newspaper, with good journalists, but sometimes they don't dig deeply enough.

Say NO to censorship!! Write blogs.

Theories, theories

2005-07-30T00:10:00.000+09:00

I was watching Bride and Prejudice (on DVD) last night and I arrived at a theory about how society sees romance and happy relationships between men and women. The woman has to be beautiful but underdeveloped, undereducated and sexually uninitiated.

Look at Gerd Jarchow (former EU Commissioner to Jamaica) and Mara Mandara, the lovely customer service representative at VMBS. I know her.

She marries an EU ambassador and her status is, like, 10 grades elevated. I'm happy for her, because she deserves it. She deserves this because she is a wonderful person. However, I'm convinced that being, overeducated and focussed are not the best routes to getting married.

Not that there's anything wrong with being focussed, but look at this real-life example.

What do men really want? You suffer when you have high self-esteem, and you suffer because you don't. High self-esteem gets you a boyfriend who's an ass, and low self-esteem gets you involved with someone who thinks he's superior, but is really a piece of shyte.

I believe in this :

(a) Men need to control their spouses

(b) Men don't want to be pursued --they can make up their own minds

(c) Efficiency doesn't work for intimate relationships

However, I think that it's important for a woman to be able to think for herself. It's dangerous, because the woman can be the subject of abusive behaviour without knowing it.

Being in a semi-vegetative state for most of your marriage is not recommended. Look at what happened to Della Manley.

Grudgeful and bad mind!

2005-06-19T13:54:00.000+09:00

I was looking up some information on Nadine Willis today. She's a very successful model, and a woman who broke the rules to get where she is today.

Instead of getting lazy and resigning herself to becoming a prostitute or exotic dancer for life, she decided to follow her dream of becoming a model. Maybe the interpersonal skills she learnt at the Gemini nightclub have helped her to get along with the people she works with now. She didn't have fair skin or a pedigree to flaunt, so she had to rely on something else: a personality!!

I am proud of Nadine because she shows that a lot of Jamaican women are programmed to believe that they are inferior to everyone else because of their past or current circumstances, but that they can break free from it. The fact that people can't believe her meteoric rise to fame is just a testimony to how judgemental people are: you are a stripper, a dark-skinned girl from the ghetto and therefore, you can't be a classy international model.

Shaggy's girl respects Nadine not because she is a former stripper with dark skin, but because she has escaped the Jamaican mentality of categorising people's worth, potential for success, and eligibility based on their social status and economic background. It's good that someone has broken the bonds of mental slavery that grips the nation. It's wonderful that Nadine has found her acceptance among people who "matter", who are more important than the vulgar, narrow-minded pseudo-aristocrats of Jamaica.

I found this blog entry from a girl named Tatiana who denounced Ms. Willis as "just a stripper":

Nadine Willis is still just a stripper to me. She is also lying about her age since I know she is 29 and not 23 as all the magazines say. She's just a passing phase and won't last. No woman who use to sell herself for money can be the next Naomi Campbell or Grace Jones. Jamaicans should stop with all the hype and realize that anyone who's tall and jet black can be a model. Look at Alek Wek for God's sake.

Why can't we be proud because another woman will not be exploited and kept in poverty? That is what should be celebrated. Instead, this person is looking for ways to put Nadine down. So what if Nadine is 29? If she looks like 23, then good for her.

This post was dated January 23, 2004, and Nadine continues to be the darling of the fashion world. I wonder how short a phase needs to be in order to be considered "passing"?

Nadine doesn't pretend to be a virgin, and there is no need for her to be a virgin to be likeable.

Let's rejoice every time a black woman steps to the forefront. That woman is representing our beauty, our style, our sexuality and our heritage.

Someone has the same opinion

2005-04-15T16:46:00.000+09:00

I found something on Big Fat Blog about a very nasty Jamaica Observer Column written by Mark & Chupski, about Sex, Obesity and Self Esteem. This blog, I believe, originated in the US, and not from a Jamaican commentator

No, the column does not report research results. It just says awful things about overweight people. For example,

Chupski: I feel pity for overweight people, especially the ones who were once slim and know how it feels to be light and free. These are the people who gained 5 pounds and took advice from other people who told them they look better with the extra five pounds. So they relaxed, got comfortable and didn't seem to notice as their size slowly increased. One day they try to fit into something they haven't worn for a while and realize they need a completely new set of clothes.

Big fat bloggers commented thus:

That was a completely pointless exchange.

Oh my god, that was HORRID! I don't know when I've ever read anything so patronizing and demeaning in my life. We can't possibly be happy? We can't have decent relationships? What the hell? And then they sound so bemused about how happy fat people look while eating.

Clearly there's a lot of nonsense in that article.

Worst article I've ever read on the subject of fat. Someone eloquent should write to them. I would be too angry.

'Nuff said. I'm glad to hear that I'm not the only person who thinks that the Jamaican media is dominated by charlatans who just like to read their own shyte.

That said, Mark and Chupski didn't say that a lot of Jamaican women are on the plump side. This is because the men force them to eat so they can develop large breasts and buttocks, which they glare at in public.

I think they are mistaking overweight with taking care of yourself. Personally, I would rather look at an overweight woman who is well put together, positive and self-confident, than a slim one who lacks muscle tone or a sense of vitality.

Gap Year Nightmare or what made me start blogging

2004-08-01T17:13:00.000+09:00

My 27th year was supposed to be the start of good things, of better and richer experiences. I had been planning for it for three years. Instead, I descended into the black well of despair.

When I arrived in The Small City I was confident that I was simply "damned good" at what I did. This was supposed to be low-visibility post, which I would use to test my real-world survival skills.

The glaring August sun seared my forehead on that first Saturday afternoon. Now, I can't help but think that it was a marker for the oppression to which I would be subjected later.

Add Mall sat in the middle of nowhere, and I couldn't help notice just how prosaic and contrived it looked. This shopping centre was the city's attempt to modernise the small, forgotten town that was famous for its farm products. It suddenly dawns on me that there was not a car to be seen in the Mall that Saturday afternoon. I shook my head, realising that it would take some time to adjust away from the crush of bodies that filled my range of vision almost every waking moment in the Big City.

My new employers sat across from me in the Mall's Chinese restaurant, the man was a ragged display next to his exquisitely dressed wife, who was his business partner. I noticed the worn out collar on his faded cotton t-shirt. I noticed that it stretched over his 190 cm, 100 kg frame. I noticed the visual contrast he made with the slight, delicate curves of his dimunitive wife who was exactly one foot shorter and one third his size. He was a blonde white male who had lived in Jamaica for a year.

In the office later that afternoon, I listened as the mismatched couple told me all the negative qualities of their past and present employees. Not a kind word, no open acceptance of individual differences. Surely, I was in danger of receiving the same treatment when my time came. I wondered how they would receive me, given my penchant for being direct, and my irreverence for authority. I was also moody. At least that was how some people would describe the difference between my extreme cheerfulness and quiet reflectiveness when I needed to do my work.

Hours later, I stepped into my beautiful new apartment. Late night fumbling with keys didn't mark the beginning of a romantic interlude; it was my return from the office after 12 hours of labour intensive work and torment. Or, it was my return from the video store or laundromat.

Nearly three months after starting my job, I stood in my antique furnished office with my head stuck outside the window. My left forefinger was stuck in my left ear, and my mobile phone was pressed against my right ear. I was talking with the head of a research centre in the United Arab Emirates. She wanted me to head up a team for a special project in Dubai, and was willing to wait two weeks but I had to decide right then. I was tempted to jump, because it didn't seem to matter to my employers that I was doing well or that my clients appreciated my work. Five hours later, a South African with similar credentials to mine just happened to be in the research centre building after I ended my phonecall and she saved me from making that decision.

I was stuck, for the time being. [I came on to blogger round about here].

By the end of 2003, I had lost my self confidence. The stress of not having a social life was causing me to lose sleep. My skin broke out in lesions that would take a year to disappear. Worse yet, my body was overwhelmed and a tumour had formed in my uterus. I convulsed in unbearable pain, but medication helped only a little. Long hospital stays were out of the question because I didn't have two consecutive days off and I would have to tell my employer about my medical condition. Not an option. This was my problem so whenever it was necessary, I drove myself to the hospital and slept there while hooked up on IV medication.

The side effects of my condition started one month after I started my job, but it would be four months before I got a proper diagnosis. It was interpreted as moodiness and despite reports to the contrary from the clients, I was wrongly chastised for not bringing enough zest to my work. Later, after finding out that on Friday nights, I would rush to the hospital straight from the office, he instituted mandatory Saturday morning meetings at 8:00. He was forcing me to tell him about my illness. The meetings provided my boss with the opportunity to look at his team as his "accomplishments" and to mould us through some kind of psychological techniques he supposedly picked up in Aikido. I saw right through it but my body was too weak to support the resolve of my mind.

Things got worse when I returned from a two week trip to Papua New Guinea. My weekends were obliterated and I spent six days a week in my office. My acne flared up so that my face became a mask that I wore to scare people away. My boss swore bitterly when I missed work without notice because my pain medication didn't work. Then, realising that I wouldn't be easily broken, the fabrications came. Anything that was meaningless to someone else was an issue that would require a meeting with me. Even if there were witnesses, I would still be accused of "hurting" the clients. I had made friends with some people who had ostracised him and his wife's family. This led him to accuse me of improper behaviour. Because it was such a blatant lie, he decided to apologise to me in front of his entire staff.

It didn't help that my colleagues didn't stand up to him for his abusive behaviour towards them. I realised that any action on my part to curb the problem would have resulted in serious retribution. He was already using his key to access my apartment a month before I quit. I would come home and find doors open, and my computer moved from my desk to the floor. A missing videotape, lingerie, and my favourite skirt were among his prizes. He hinted at it by telling two of my female colleagues to beware of lingerie thieves.

I was slim and toned from rock climbing and eight hours of racquet sports each week. This inspired him to go on the Atkin's diet to improve his "figure". He said that I made him look "fat". Only about three months later did he realise that a trip to the gym every once in a while was a better idea.

I remember being treated to a flash of his abdomen one day in the office. He wasn't speaking to me, but as I turned my head to look at the shelf he was blocking, he pulled up his t-shirt to show me the big change. I was shocked at the thought that my boss could not perceive that this was inappropriate behaviour.

One day in late January, I had a misunderstanding with some clients. Nothing serious, but they thought I had invited them to dinner. Coincidentally, I was spaced out and nauseous from my medication and was not coherent enough to pick up on the error. What followed was a lengthy chastisement on inappropriate contact with clients. He felt sorry for me, he said, because he knew I had no friends, but his clients were off limits. I tried to explain that it was a harmless misunderstanding that could have happened to anyone, but I would be punished for it. My colleagues paid for it too, on the same day, in a barrage of expletives. I missed my pain medication because of the tirade and the excruciating pain started. Unable to bear it, I wept uncontrollably.

That four-letter word was the last straw. Later that evening, nauseous and about to collapse from pain, I sent my resume one last time. It was a post that I had turned down before, thinking that I would quit once I finished my postgraduate studies. On Monday, the job was mine. I wanted to quit right then, but I felt so scared that I stayed and decided not to defend myself from the insults.

I was puzzled by his shocked reaction at my decision to leave. Exactly what would he be missing by letting me go? After all, he implied that I was a constant source of distress for him and his business. He didn't hide his resentment and flat out refused to speak to me for the next two months.

Before I left, I was forced to evaluate his "management style", so that he could find more reasons for criticising me. I could not fall asleep for two weeks because of the stress. He had already treated one of my more placid colleagues to a three hour tirade over his "half-hearted criticism". I shrank when I saw this tall, bright and very talented person, walking back to his office with his eyes bright red from crying. I reached out to him, but he was fine. After all, his wife was at home waiting for him.

Nine months. Not a gestation period, but an excruciating labour that I barely survived.

My friends now tell me that I am different, that I am more serious. I am still healing, and I am back to practicing meditation, after nine months without it, but my mind was in such turmoil that it's hard to cleanse my spirit. One month after quitting, my skin healed completely, and my tumour has responded better to treatment.

I wonder if I would have tolerated my experience better if I had been able to rely on the support of my friends. I hadn't told anyone what was happening but when I finally did, almost everyone seemed to think I was overreacting. That included one determined suitor who asked: "so what would you like me to do?" and a trusted friend who said: "you're playing a game of ego". The suffering, it seemed, was mine to bear alone.

I am grateful that the crisis allowed me to see that people who tolerate abusive relationships cannot in principle object to the abusive behaviour of other people, even if it is directed towards their loved ones.

My experiences with a workplace bully has taught me that I need to have personal boundaries. Living through that nightmare, and watching others adjust to it was a major turning point in my life. Not only will I know when I am at the brink of an abusive relationship, but I also know that immediate extraction is the only solution.

I pray that the people I care for will do the same.