Phenomenal

A phenomenon. That is a funeral and the things that go on around it. I saw a play last year in New York, entitled "August: Osage County". It was centred on a funeral and how the occasion led to the revelation of many family secrets. It was funny and yet so distressing to see people discover things for the first time that some knew for years but never shared, and so on. Well, I'm in Jamaica for a funeral and so far the first 24 hours are not disappointing. What have I discovered?

I know now that my grandmother's father came from the United States, as a 'coloured' man, who had been driving trains in the Boston area. Now, that is mighty strange. I will try to check how many 'coloured' men were likely to be train drivers in mid 19th century America. But now I can understand more about a lineage that I was already beginning to suspect. I may yet lay claim to American citizenship by some natural route.

I always knew that my maternal grandfather spent most of his working life cutting sugar cane in Cuba. Yet, he died so very young, in his early 50s. All of his children and his wife lived to an greater age. I was glad to have known him when I was a boy. Rest in peace, dear Parnell. But I did not know that Bennett was not his family name; that was the name of the people who took him in after his family (Clark(e)) abandoned him. He married my grandmother, whose family name was also Bennett. I'm less concerned about that than many people because we have such unknown genealogy that 'given' names really only confuse us about separateness.

I now know that an Aunt Myrtle was named Alfina, a name chosen from the Cuban ones my grandfather had chosen. But, hardly anyone in her family knew she had that name.

I know that several of my cousins have the same mother but different fathers; that's nothing strange in Jamaica or the Caribbean in general. But, now I am listening more to what those who know of their fathers know. Some feel that they carry Jewish names and are now closer to those people, and maybe to that faith by extension. Interesting for people often brought up as Christian Pentecostals.

I met for the first time a cousin born a couple of years after me. He went to The Bahamas about 20 years ago, to work in construction, and became one of their national cricketers. I found his details last Christmas and called and left a message. Last night, we hugged like brothers and talke up a 50 year storm. I will have to have a meal with him this Christmas.

I now know that a young cousin who had graduated from university and could not find work in Jamaica has now been living in Alberta, Canada, for a year and working in hotels there. He's also building a house in Jamaica. Way to get over the hurdles.

'Coincidences' abound: I had to drop off some doctors at a hotel and met a good friend and pilot who happened to get the flight duty to Kingston to cross over my visit, and was staying at their hotel. His flight duties had last month let him cross over my visit to New York. No way we knew each other's plans. OK!!!!!

I'm stopping there for today as the Holy Spirit is clearly having a ball. The white rum was the spirit that moved last night but it's time is done.

It's All Good. But You Have To Dig A Little.

Regular readers know that this blog is many things. Amongst them is its role as a mental note pad, that can be as simple as a place to acknowledge how I feel as well as somewhere to pay tribute to some one else. Today, I'm going to hit that mode, but not in depth and not with any sense that I will follow up on any point. It's flows as I write, and in so doing the image I have will be a tribute to Clint Eastwood.

The Good: I just called my little daughter as she was having breakfast: I always sit with her in the mornings, and we talk and joke and get the day off to a calm start. She told me that she had made her own tea, pouring the hot water herself, using a kitchen mitt. I was impressed and told her that I was also having a cup of tea. She wanted to know when I would be back, and regaled me with how she would take my bed space while I stayed away and when I came back she would still want that space. I should have said that I would sleep in her room but I save that.

I also went for a walk yesterday and found myself 'loved' by some waitresses in a little cafe. They told me that I could have a snack then brought me a meal that made my ordering dinner seem gluttonous.I also found a young man in a computer store who was so honest about the product that he told me its virtues and just let me decide if it worked for me. We looked at my blog and he did what many people fail to do; he remembered the address perfectly just on seeing it once. He was paying attention to someone else: a rare attribute these days. Try to see how much of what you say to some one today they remember at the end of the conversation.

The Bad?: A cousin sent me a message last night. "Hi. Give me a call. It's urgent." I sent back a message "If it's urgent why not call me." Urgent and urgency are the words used in bureaucracies to get people to jump. Rarely, in fact never in my experience, has any urgent matter been such. It might have been high in a person's consciousness, but it was also something that if left for a day or longer would not really have had any different outcome. He called me and told me that an aunt had just died (a sister of our respective mothers), and that it was a mystery what had been wrong. He told me how he had had an urge to visit the aunt recently and she had mentioned no problems. I told him about 'coincidence' and how this time the message had not been passed. While I was upset to hear of the death, it was a fact and had happened many hours ago in Jamaica. I had tried to help her and her son set up businesses but that had not worked and I had wondered about how some people do not manage to get their dreams to be real even with all that is necessary in place. I still do not know.

But he's not off the hook yet. He told me that he had been trying to call me on a US number but could not get me. Eventually, I asked him to check if he had the right number. He cited a number that was good but had had to be given up when I left the US several years ago. He has all my numbers for where I live now and has spoken to me often using those numbers. Why not send me a message to confirm the number he is trying? We each have BlackBerries. I answer messages promptly. I asked him why he persisted with something that was not working when he had something that he knew works well. I always say if it makes no sense then it's nonsense.

So, the urgency was what? His need to tell me? His need for me to know? His need to get my phone numbers right? I'm not sure. If I could have saved my aunt's life with a phone call, then that would have been urgent. Last weekend he had had to rush back to Jamaica to deal with a need to operate on a patient. That's urgent. But, I try to put things in a positive light. Urgent matters are about life and death, so when a person has died there is no urgency regarding them. "Urgency" is one of those bully word that people use to get others' attention. I try to avoid it, and it cost me a bit when I worked. But, I will hold my view.

The Ugly?: I am travelling in the USA. The ostensible reason is that a chance meeting in Barbados led to the suggestion that I make a trip to see a sports event. Never done it before. Seemed like fun. Took the offer. But, like a scam I was left holding a bill and having no goods to show for it. Well, not the offered ones.

But, I did get to use Wi-Fi while flying. Whoooo!

I got to visit a city to which I had never been before. A lovely piece of America's history that has people who know what loyalty means to country, to industry, to sportsmen. They have done their parts and with the amazing success of their sports teams the city's head is always in the clouds. Nice.

I got to take up an offer from two friends to visit them, though neither turned out to be in town when I arrived: that was just bad luck and one friend (a Jamaican, whom I met in Guinea through our work) has given me his apartment and car for the days I am here. Ironically, he had to head to New York City, which I had just left!Having had my fill of tennis there, he was now going to do Daddy things like get his six year old into school...and try to see some tennis. My other friend, an American lady, with whom I had worked on saving from economic ruin some former Soviet Union country, and like me has now resigned to do her own thing, had to travel to Europe. But, in all that, we found that these two friends are virtually neighbours. The suburb where they live is a place where back a few decades they could not have been neighbours. No way. But look now.

I want to come back to visit both of them and make a trip with my daughters, big and small; in fact 'big Miss' just had an operation on her shoulder and as Percocet was kicking in she was begging me to drive to see her. I had to say no as it would be half a day of driving and only a few hours of loving. She understood, but I hope that that decision was not a bad one.

Today, I will try to do in a day what should be tried in a week. I will visit downtown and soak up all of its history. Who am I fooling? This city has some of the most famous universities in the USA and a walk around one of them would be a day well spent. But, I will just drive by. I will walk to the riversides and look and think back through the economic fortunes that have been seen and lost. I will hope to carry the image of my aunt and my cousins in the front of my mind and see them all as proud members of one side of a family that has so many different stories to tell.

I know that every day I am lucky to have the experiences that I do. So, all is good, no matter how it may seem at first or on the outside.

Good Fren Betta Than Pocket Money

Jamaicans have this expression, meaning a good friend is far better than wealth. I always like it when the people you call friends, old or new, rally around you when you have their need. Friends don't ask many questions when you call for help. They do and may ask later for a why. We have the trust that has come from not betraying each other. People with whom you associate regularly are not necessarily friends. Many of my friends I do not see except once a year or two, but we can pick up without pause.

My friends have come to my aid and I really appreciate that. I know that I do not have to think about repayment of friendship. True friendship, like love, is UNCONDITIONAL.

My Mate, Marty

I would be lying if I said I remember exactly when I met Marty for the first time. But, I remember very well things that I have done with Marty and things he has said that I will cherish.

If Marty lived in the Caribbean, he might be called a reverse Oreo: white on the outside and black inside. Marty is cool and is a dude. Marty loves ceegars.

If Marty could grow locks he would be a real dread.

Marty is chili peppers; fresh, hot, green or red; growing in the kitchen or simmering in a pot.

Marty is eating Chesapeake Bay crabs on the deck: hammer, newspaper, Old Bay seasoning, beer, jokes...more crabs.

Marty is faith and religion and easiness with God. A loving spirit and an open heart.

Marty is beer and getting used to Jamaican rum, neat, with ice: "Phew! You guys like strong stuff."

Marty is Kensington, Maryland. Think: I lived in Kensington, London. I now live near Kensington Oval, Barbados--the shrine of West Indies cricket. Are we brothers or cousins or linked by blood that flowed before?

Marty looks nothing like me and looks just like himself.

Marty is 60 and does not look a day over 30. I guess that makes him timeless, May his spirit live on forever.

In a season of blessings how appropriate that his 60th birthday will fall on April, 13, Easter Monday.

We Are Friends

Every now and then there is an odd confluence of people and events that leads to what all agree is a superb occasion. The joy of spontaneity is that 'the best laid plans' are only the backdrop. Last night, a group of twelve people who two years ago were not known to each other, had one of those occasions. It was a birthday celebration for one of our 'queens'. Her husband had done what men occasionally do: organize everything himself. He had made the requisite calls (at least to me) to tell of time and place, and had said very little about who else would be present or much else. So, on the evening, I spent part of the drive going over what I might order, knowing that the process of managing a lot of tastes can eat into the event viciously. But, our dude had taken care of that too. On arrival, food started to arrive within minutes of our sitting down, and so it went on as courses arrived--appetizers then a great array of main courses. He allowed himself a little pleasure by ordering the wine once we were all present.

But, the magic was not in the food and drink, but was in the foolishness and drivel, and even in the way someone only known to the hosts who was visiting, just dropped happily within this group of extraordinarily regular people. Subjects came up and were used as props for quips, for friendly criticism, for exploration of relationships. We were all like dogs: our underbellies were laid bare because we did not fear that we would be attacked savagely. We lay there in our supine position, liking also the occasional stroking of a warm 'hand' in the form of a series of unprompted kind words.

Whether by design or by accident, we had the restaurant almost to ourselves. The other patrons who came in behaved impeccably, sitting in a corner table and having quiet and polite conversation. As befits a group of highly educated and accomplished professionals, we acted like we were at a high school prom, and we had the restaurant staff in tears of joy by the end of the night.

We talked of how women love to pack their men off, and also of women who equally love to be sent packing. We shared stories of how night owls preened, unruffled and ruffled their feathers. We kept our beady eyes on the threads of all the tales.

We checked if a man could remember when he was married and after he spent an eternity telling us about how it seems like time has no start, no end, no curve or bend, and the elasticity of eternity when one feels bliss, we checked with his wife, who agreed on the month. But an astute sister-in-law told them they were both wrong! When asked when their first child was born, they agreed that it was the day after the wedding--a day between marriage and birth sounds alarm bells in our region. We heard how a tailor man delivered a fitting jacket on a certain wedding day, and as things go in Jamaica that seemed to pass off without incident. We spoke of peckers and peccadilloes, of showers, soap and rope; of tennis and of menace. Is a man a brute because he does not use Imperial Leather? Will Peter Wyngarde ever live down those ads for Hai Karate?



We mulled the true meaning of "Don't despair. Get a spare."

A woman wondered if she needed to find it first before she could do anything with it. A man bragged that his was 17 inches, and was wireless; he's being screened as I write. We discussed whether it's better to look up or to look down; envy is still a vice. We heard why men don't go to the gym but just play tennis, to avoid having to use communal bathrooms. We spoke of men on the download and whether they needed to be taken out for a hard drive. We heard tales of nails but could not put our fingers on their meaning; some snorted in disapproval. We spoke of offshore finance and of sure financial disasters. We spoke of BNB and bed and breakfast. We spoke of CLICO and how we are wary of cliques. Oh!

And so the evening meandered.

We took our jollity onto the street in Holetown, as we extended our farewells and acted like people who had not seen each other for years, hugging and kissing and carrying on.

I have to admit that I am taking on a hard mission in 'cultural detoxification', if I can use that term in a way that is not too harsh. The British left us many things of which we should be grateful, but they left us the inglorious stiff handshake as the greeting of choice. When you think of arms-length diplomacy, this is what should come to mind, and if you really are afraid of catching something from touching another person, then it's the perfect "How are you". However, I personally prefer something warmer and more tactile, and which I find more in keeping with African traditions and for that matter with traditions in much of Europe. I institute the hug or embrace and the kiss. It's a hard sell for some, because it has no gender boundary, save for a certain deference if there is obvious revulsion. So men have to be ready to be seized and seized of the moment: President Obama is making the 'man hug' a common place in the public space. Women are less fearful of such trends, it seems.

We sang the traditional 'Happy Birthday' but I have to admit that it was less of an event than the rest of the evening. I am not keen on the idea of waiting till this time next year to do a similar celebration.

Those who know know that this year's birthdays have had some serious direct and indirect celebrations. This trend, if continued, could lead to a rash of deportations later in the year. What a way to go!

I Remember You Well

A few weeks ago, at my favourite Saturday breakfast spot, a relatively new acquaintance asked me "Do you notice that people gravitate toward you? But how do you remember them all?" I was honestly a bit embarrassed by the first part of the question and dodged it, but had an answer for the second. "I take people seriously. If I meet someone I try to absorb them. I try to focus on the context of the meeting and what the experience gives me. That may be a good or less good feeling, but that's what I remember and the rest flows from that."

When I meet people I usually try to get the name the first time round, but am not averse to asking for it to be repeated. When I meet someone again, I'm not ashamed to say that I remember the face and where we met but have forgotten the name. In crowded or noisy settings the names often get lost.

I rarely ask people what they do, as I believe that this locks one into a positioning based on views about jobs and their worth. I usually try to gauge from where the person comes and am apt to play a game or two to get that answer. I'm pretty good with accents so will often try to pinpoint someone based on how they speak. I try not to fall for the 'sound English, must be from England' fallacy.

I often try to make a connection. Someone from Jamaica will get the "Which parish are you from?" question, so that I can make some geographical link directly to me (Kingston born and raised initially) or my parents (who came from two different parishes). People from the UK are often fun as I lived mainly in London so can play that against the fact that I know the north and many of its dialects (like Geordie) well and also lived in Wales, even speaking that rare language, Welsh, a little. People from elsewhere in Europe are great fun as they often do not know different English accents, so I can roll them around a bit, and then confuse with a bit of French or Russian to throw them off the scent.

Lots of things flow from having a real conversation with someone about yourself and/or your family, as opposed to latching onto a subject like 'exchange rate misalignment in post-colonial small states', riveting though that can be, when facing a firing squad and there is a need to stall for time. That is when the commonalities start to appear. But, it's also simple as you just have to be honest and yourself, not whatever you are employed to be.

I often try to make a quick link between someone new and someone I already know who is present, just through that simple "Do you know each other?" question and then making an introduction, if needed. I was advised a long while back "Only connect". I'm often apt to let the new acquaintances get to know each other, even if I then take a back seat as things like "You went to JC, too? What year?" and so on. Lots of new friendships have started that way and I am not one of the friends, just an acquaintance.

That kind of approach explains a lot why my friends and acquaintances are often quite an eclectic bunch.

I met some new acquaintances yesterday, when a friend brought her Jamaican guests to the breakfast place. The ladies lived in Kingston but were born in other parishes (one Montego Bay/St. James), the other Clarendon). They were immediately interesting because one had a 'normal' name, like Elaine, while the other had a Jamaican nickname, 'Sissy'--because she had been the young child. I mentioned that I was Jamaican--my English accent doing its usual camouflage job--and had been born and lived in Vauxhall Avenue. "Oh, that is in the east" one of them said. I laughed. "East of where? East is St. Thomas", referring to the parish that goes to Jamaica's eastern point. Then a few moments of reflection later, one lady said "Oh, that is near the Windward Road", which it is, and near Bray Street (if you want to go find it). I said that it's now a part of run down Kingston inner city "inna de ghetto". They got on with their morning and were busy observing the 'interesting' things to see at Brighton's Plantation. And there, I thought, I had left the meeting, as the ladies were due to leave on Monday.

But, God has his plan. My friend and I spoke on the phone after leaving breakfast while I was stuck in traffic, and so was she; we needed to deal with a usual Saturday chore of getting people to swim class. Then came the subject of what the rest of the day held. "The ladies are going to cook Jamaican food...escoveitch fish..." she said. My wail into the phone was shrill enough to have been like squealing brakes. Well, the ladies heard it, and despite my friend's pleas to not do this, they insisted on inviting my wife and me to dinner: "Im go eat we outta hous an' home. Don' do dis!" my friend told me she had said. Such friends!

So, to the evening. Tra-la. Amongst the guest, who were a bunch of the usual Jamaican suspects, was a Bajan couple. I immediately recognized them from a brunch we had attended...two years ago...during Cricket World Cup...on a very rainy Sunday. I reminded them of that as we sought to recall how we knew each other. But, what a happy reunion. They were well known to the ladies, going back many years and several places. He, whom I shall call 'Leisure', was clearly a man who knew how to enjoy himself. But he was also one of life's odd fish, a contract bridge player. He regaled us with stories of how during the recent Beijing Olympics he had had to witness the rigours of dope testing. Amazing for card players, and we really got no real insight into what performance enhancing drugs these characters might take, but heard how some had to administer their insulin shots during games, or were on hypertension medication, etc., some of which might have exposed the team to expulsion. Whether they had been herbalists earlier in life we never heard. Nor did we explore the need for steroids to be able to fling down cards with great force. She, whom I shall call 'Morris', won my heart easily by producing a cassava pudding that I was prepared to fight man and beast for (not forgetting our two ladies' contribution of THE bread pudding and sour sop mousse). And the evening rolled along.

At one stage they asked me if I knew a certain Bajan who had worked at the IMF. I answered that I knew him a little, but he was great friends with one of my best men, who happens to be Norwegian. We spoke about playing bridge, which I did from high school into my early 30s, but not since. Different systems. We joked about how playing 'one club' and 'blue club' were not to be confused with playing in night clubs.

And the night rolled on. We all bashed and defended bashment culture. We all argued about financial and economic Armageddon. We lamented the loss of Allen Stanford's money for cricket. We prayed that West Indies would pull off a victory against England. We discussed Agrofest. We ate jerk chicken, roast pork, escoveitch flying fish, rice and gungo peas, and more. We drank great rum and 'Fat Bastard' wine. We limed. We parted ways. New acquaintances made; previous acquaintances refreshed. I hear that I will soon get a call to come and remember how to play bridge. Becoming an Olympian through this athletic pursuit seems like an alright prospect as I meander through the coming years.

Let's Be Friends.

My previous post was about a seemingly pleasant incident with some Muslim neighbours, which has at its base a first real contact between people previously unknown to each other and a gesture of goodwill. I was happy for this to occur because it was a nice piece to add to a series of discussions I had been having with an American lady about whom I had written before (see links to You cannot be serious and Happy Days). As a preface, I must say that I have no fear of Muslims, in the same way that I have no fear of any religious group. Members of my own faith have said and done many things to make me fearful, even though they may not have ever conducted any acts of terrorism. As a man married to a woman and the father of three girls, my concerns for their equal treatment, especially within my religion, is as high as my concern for their general and individual safety.

I wrote several weeks ago about an encounter that began by e-mail via this blog, with a woman I named "Daphne". Our first point of contact was about her fear of Muslims and how they could threaten her planned holiday to Barbados. She has lived most of the past few weeks dealing with a series of challenges I have posed, directly and indirectly about such fears, her political views, and more. She has in the process made many discoveries about herself. All of this was possible because she was willing to put her head about the turret and say "Here I am". She showed me that she had good points, from my very personal perspective, because she brought me a "peace offering" of boiled peanuts from South Carolina. I can be like Pooh and honey. She also demonstrated one of those truths that I hold self evident: that if you share a meal with someone you will end up sharing much more.

Some people express surprise that one can start interactions with "total strangers met on the Internet". I must say that I find that concern bizarre. It's hard to find anyone that I call a friend who did not start off as a complete stranger; that's even more apparent for the group of friends I now have in Barbados, only one of whom I had ever met before coming to this island. Once someone has moved to the elevated status of 'friend' it is not static, and needs to be nurtured. I take a dim view of friends who visit this island and don't make contact until after they have left and then say "I was in Barbados but...". That, my friend is not something I would ever do. If anything, I go the other way and try to prepare the person for a possible visit once I touch land.

Even my wife started off as a complete stranger to me. Her friends are certainly not my friends by obligation. I would not expect her to take my friends as being hers. It may happen, but it's a matter of luck and circumstances. Being introduced to someone does not make them known. I am always sitting with a wry smile on my face when I read stories about 'villains in our midst', such as spies, criminals, etc. and the way people trot out comments such as, "He seemed such a decent man", "She was a good neighbour", "Who would believe that this child next door could do such a thing?", which basically indicate that the persons that was there circulating with you were unknowns. So, proximity to people does not necessarily give knowledge about them. People let you know what they want to let you know about themselves. What you choose to know about people is what you are prepared to find out: it's also interesting how we reject the bad/accept the good about people we say and do the opposite for people we truly dislike.

But, back to Daphne. Our exchanges have encouraged her to write, and she offered me a piece last week and left me free to use it on the blog, if I wished. I am not a paid critic and have the left the piece basically untouched (though minor editing or additions I mark in red below; various observations I make in [...]). These are her thoughts and her expressions. I share below what she sent to met.

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It has been said that writing can be cathartic or can help you sort out your thoughts and feelings. I see it as bringing what’s in your heart and soul to the outside, organizing it, throwing away the trash and keeping the good stuff. I’ve never written anything just to do it without an audience in mind. But, here it goes.

About a month ago some of my family and I went on a trip. This was during the presidential election of 2008 – one of the most historical elections of all time. See, at that time I just about believed everything I heard from the media, e-mails, blogs, etc. I was doing a little research on the Internet and found a blog site that caused me to become quite upset about our up-coming trip to Barbados. The blog I read was about Muslims in Barbados and whether they would kill or not. [Here is the article from Barbados Free Press, entitled 'Muslims Wont Kill Anyone Unjustly'] The Muslim response was that they would not kill ‘without cause’. There were also some very demeaning, abusive remarks directed toward women. Well, I kept looking and found another responsible web/blog site and decided to be brave and send an e-mail to a total stranger to determine the safety of our trip. I really did not think I would ever hear from it. Within a few minutes, my e-mail was answered with an attitude! He said my note really disturbed him and he didn’t know what country I was looking into, but it was obviously not Barbados. They had a far less Muslim population than the US did and what difference did it make anyway? I was so relieved that he thought the question ridiculous, that I overlooked the attitude part. Now I could plan my trip and not worry about Muslim extremists.

But, this guy wouldn’t let it go and neither would I. So, somehow we ended up in a political discussion/debate via e-mail. The only problem with this is that he is much more educated and interested in the facts than I am. I’m a wife, mother and nurse that really only pays attention to politics during an election - unless there is something really major going on. He on the other hand is a very politically opinionated person who really does base his opinions on knowledge. Imagine that!

This was such an unequal exchange between the two of us. I must be a really secure person to not let this ‘walking encyclopedia’ of political, geographical, philosophical, social, financial and spiritual educated liberal intimidate the cr** out of me! But, what I lack in knowledge I am good at BS. Just kidding! Maybe he just wanted to sway my vote or maybe he wanted some humor in his life. No, he is a stickler for truth regardless of the reason and probably wanted to set the record straight.

In my defense, like a lot of Americans, we are too busy doing life to pay attention to politics. My statement has been that I am not a political person – that’s just not my thing. Now, I do see that it is important to pay attention and develop your own opinion. So, because I vote – I am a political person and to be a responsible voter you need to recognize the difference between media hype and truth.

December 2, 2008

One of the most frustrating things about these ‘conversations’ to me is that it seemed like my feelings toward terrorism (Islam in particular) were not adequately recognized. Tolerated maybe but not understood. The depth of my anger, hurt and disgust felt toward evil people and their purposes of attack was shocking to even me. Upon questioning several friends and acquaintances, I found that their feelings were equal to mine or greater! Some believed that the Muslim terrorists were trained from childhood to hate America, Christians, Jews, etc.

In my mind, I had it settled that those were evil men who happened to be Muslim who staged and carried out the crimes in the USA. But, I was wrong! My heart has never been settled on this subject. I researched the Koran and found that it does indeed tell them to kill infidels (non-Muslims). So the term Muslim extremist is accurate. Islam taken to the highest degree, which is what their scripture says, is to kill nonbelievers of their religion. How can one rationalize that in their mind to come to an acceptable peaceful mindset??? If Muslims follow their religion by the book – it will definitely lead them to destroy anyone that is not Muslim (unless they ignore of that part of the book). [I think this is a misinterpretation of "Jihad", which has four components and is meant to represent the duty of fighting against Satan ('struggle in the way of God'), which can, but need not, mean physically fighting against God's enemies. But it is essentially about self-comportment and leading a good religious life. See link to 'The Complete Idiot's Guide to Understanding Islam' or read the Koran.]

So, it appears that I have come full circle in my thoughts and feelings concerning Muslims. The only difference now is that I have researched it and found that the most dedicated ones are the most dangerous. I do not trust them or have a desire to be understanding or tolerant of their belief system. However, my Christianity says that Jesus died for them. So, what is my obligation?

They are a warring religion with individuals that belong to an organization based on an evil doctrine of killing. [We have not discussed this and I wont go any further than to recall the Christian Crusaders in the Middle Ages, which went on for nearly 300 years in fighting mainly Muslims, but also any groups viewed as "pagans" (which at the time included even Greek Orthodox Christians). Europe lives with the legacy of those wars to this day.] I really do not know any Muslims personally who are in my sphere of daily living. As bad as I hate to admit it.

I always like a happy ending . . . there simply isn’t one on this subject. With the exception that Jesus did die for the sins of Muslims and provided a way of escape from their battling turmoil. I pray God’s love is in my heart toward all people, and I’ll be ready to show them a different way if given the opportunity.I have learned many things from this friend, who I did get to meet in Barbados. He sparked a fire for understanding politics. Is there a book Politics for Dummies? [Yes there is, and here is the link.]

I have a great respect for our new President Elect Obama that I did not have before. I’m sure I’ll have more thoughts on this at a later time. It has been a journey over the past 6 weeks that has been a real roller coaster ride!

God places people in our lives for a reason. My thinking world has been changed during this process. The way I see things is clearer – maybe the hunger to know the truth in situations is greater. The rut of thinking the same way all the time, without question, has changed. Just because someone agrees with you does not make them your friend. It’s not always a good thing for everyone to agree and not question what is going on around them. Look at the frogs in the pan of water – they just sit their slowly cooking and not even knowing it until it’s too late, and they can’t jump out. Someone needs to pay attention!

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I agree with the notion that people come into our lives for a reason. I am also happy to say that I will gladly strike up a conversation with anyone, and it will go where ever it goes. That can lead to wonderful surprises (my apple and cherry crumble this week--thanks to '39 Steps'). At the weekend, we had a lady shyly ask if she could join us as we went on a wine tasting evening; she joined us and the band of friends who arrived afterwards. We got to know her a little and look forward to seeing her art show next year.

Certain items for children often say things better than erudite works. Kipling's Jungle Book as put out by Walt Disney may say it best on friendship:



To put icing on this cake, since I started writing this earlier in the morning, I have been to play tennis with a Bajan man I met several months ago during one of my regular visits to the farmers' market. We met again over the weekend, and agreed on a 6am hit. I introduced him to one of the friends I have made here, and they spent a good time on Saturday getting to know each other.

In an hour, I shall have breakfast with two people whom I have never met before. The man is Jamaican and writes several blogs, including 'Moving to Jamaica' (see link). We had some interchanges from last year when I was doing work for a conference on the Caribbean diaspora. His wife is from Trinidad and found me on Facebook, and she too is also a writer, but also a photographer, who is trying to help expatriate people make the transition to life in Jamaica. He turns out to be a good family friend of "Ja Niece", who is a godmother to my new friend, Thesephone, and who visited Bim earlier this year. I got a message via Gmail to say that they were in Bim for a few days and wondered if we could met in real, not virtual, life.

Following that, I shall possibly do a stint on the radio ("Brass Tacks") arranged by the husband of a new friend of my wife's whom she met at a bookclub (if I recall correctly). He will put me on a call-in program hosted by a man (Pat Hoyos) whom I first met one weekend while at the mall: I recognized his face and introduced myself and suggested we get together to find ways to collaborate on putting local and international economic issues on a more understandable basis. He in turn happens to have been married to a Jamaican woman whom I met for the first time some months ago at a regular social hosted by some new friends of ours. And so on it goes....

I now have a better understanding of why it is I am less inclined these days to read 'works of fiction'. Real life has plenty of interest, so why do I need 'make believe'?

For me, somethings are very clear. Friendship, if true, is like love: it's unconditional and it's unambiguous. Note how children play. "I'll be your friend if..." indicates that they know the worth of having friends, but feel that it's something you can negotiate; later in life they will call this diplomacy. Friends do not use each other as foils: no true friend ever negates that friendship by not being frank with the person who is supposed to be a friend. If a conversation holds phrases like "Those people whom you call friends say... about you" and this is the first you are hearing these views, then clearly these are not true friends. You may have to swallow some bitter pills with this discovery, but like a bad disease, once discovered you can find a way to deal with it. My antennae go on 'red alert' when I hear or overhear remarks such as "Let me tell you something about X..." and X is supposed to be a friend.

I never know who I will meet who can become my friend, but I do know that when I am in need my true friends rally to support me, and when they are in need I do whatever I can to help them. No questions asked, no explanations needed.

So let me go off and meet some friendly people.

A friend in need and a friend indeed.

A good friend from my university days in the mid-1970s sent me an e-mail message yesterday, having lost my address some two years ago; but as he's a sort of office "pack rat" and never gets rid of anything, he managed to find me again on his computer system. He's a scientist, having studied physics, and has spent most of his working life in road contruction and transport projects for the British government. He originates from the north east of England, Newcastle ("new-kasl", as it should be pronounced) to be precise, and fell in love with London and the south east of England, especially the suburbs of Surrey. Having caught up with me he then sent me on a little box of surprises about how his life had been recently. What we see of our lives often makes us unhappy about the choices we made and make. This friend has always been open with his telling of how life has been good, but also how it has dealt him its woes, especially with work, sport, and women. His love life warrants a novel. As he writes in his latest messages, he only manages to find love with women who are already married (not a good situation) and gets rejected by the others.

We take a lot of things for granted, especially the good things we encounter and the good people we meet (Bob Marley said it better: "Good friends we had and good friends we lost, along the way"). But friendships really get ditched too easily.

My friend is a scientist, but not all of science is an open book to him. People who work with computers, especially those who know how they really work, are savvy about all things Internet-ish, right? Wrong. Most people know the difference between the Internet and things you can do on the Internet, right? Wrong. An article I read over the weekend talked about how many people do not know that e-mail and the Internet are completely different things. Let's not even get into what you can do with a Blackberry, and how it sends messages and has no cables.

So, I was more than a little shocked when my friend wrote "You are all technical ! I regret I am making a point of being the only man left on the planet without a computer. I have no idea what a 'blog' is and I certainly would never know one if it passed me. As for 'Facebook', well that's way beyond me. I have no mobile phone, no fax machine and no home computer. M15 will never be able to track me down." I know that I am no geek. I figured out a long time ago that to get so-called labour-saving devices to do their job, you often needed to expend a good amout of labour to understand them, at least initially. After that you could probably surf on the basic knowledge you had acquired. I was forced to understand a lot more about "IP addresses" and "routers" and "modems" and "switch boxes" through getting companies to set up cable TV in my house and then trying to get wireless Internet access working at home. Then, in my last assignment, I had to understand how the machines that provided the "server" facilities worked so that if the engineer could not fly in to help fix it, my junior economist and I could have a good attempt; we drew the line at climbing on the roof to fix the satellite dish. So, there he is, a qualified scientist, but determined to stay on the road-less-travelled by science.

I don't really know if I should applaud him or commiserate. But I will encourage him to open himself up to some of the developments of the past 30 years.

He feels he has let himself down, and sees this as part of a set of bad decisions he has made in life. "I am in despair at how I have wasted my own years and it would never do for me to look back on the good decisions other people made that I did not. I paid a brutal price for my poor degree and yet I worked so hard, I wish now I had done a Civil Engineering degree and I could have worked overseas for awhile in the Middle East." The money might have come from going to Dubai or wherever, but would he really be any happier with where he ended up?

When we were at university, we spent many hours playing squash, especially when exam and study pressures rose. I was new to the sport, only starting at university, but I was a good athlete, and had a great coach (a former five time world champion), who helped get lots of the basics right. My friend had played before, and we had many great, sweaty tussles on court (metaphorically speaking, not like Oliver Reed and Alan Bates in "Women in Love"). Squash was his real love and has been his pillar through many hard times, at work, in love, and so on. But even here, he feels that time just passed him by. He wrote:

"I play on the county veterans squash team (that's over 50s). Now, it's a ranking as low as you can get. This is the third team and I am at number '5'. Over at a local club the other afternoon I faced a big bull of a man and I was sure this match would be a 'steal'. No! Like the other 8 matches I have played over 2 years, he machine gunned me in 3 sets. I did win 3 points. I just wanted to get away back home. I looked up at my pals in the gallery and it was like a scene from 'Gladiator'. I just cannot win any vets matches. I also played at the fabulous RAC club in Epsom last month. This 'old boy ' rolled up late, and I thought this match will be a breeze. But again, I was bullet ridden. I had more holes in me than an Iraqi taxi. He of course was an old champion of the 1970s. Gutted and humiliated we all came away, all of us but one defeated. I just keep playing because if I stop squash I will have nothing in life."

I don't agree with him and said so many times before when a similar set of events occurred. But, I understand that it's hard to have defeat or set-backs face you regularly and feel good about yourself.

But he offered some bright spots:

"In March I went off on my first holiday in 10 years. I was skiing with some pals from the squash club. We stayed in France a place called Samoen, at the chalet owned by my family doctor (the benefit of living in a small knit town). I thought I would give it a try and I booked up tuition when I arrived. I had the time of my life. After Day 3 I was flying. I was whizzing down slopes like Box Hill here. No fear. My legs and joints were black and blue at the finish of it all but I had the time of my life. It was fabulous."

So, he is not afraid to try new things and to get some success quickly transforms his outlook on life.

He mentions that he has a trip coming to a part of London where he used to work, Liverpool Street-Broadgate (near the famous train station), where there will be a glass walled exhibition court for a world class squash tournament. A club friend bought the tickets and asked him along. He will go, reluctantly, because it's also the place where his career in a sense got derailed; he had good days there but made another "wrong choice" in his career. He used to see trips to London as an adventure. I remember well the awe he often had when we visited different places, which for him had just been names representing the high, the mighty, the good and the great. People from the harsh mining and shipbuilding areas of the north east of England could only gasp at the thought of ever seeing them.

He also just won tickets in the Wimbledon lottery draw for ladies finals day. As he muses, "Just think, I could be sitting a few feet away from lovely lean Sharapova in July. Oh heaven." She is single so maybe love will blossom amongst the strawberries and cream. I'll accentuate the positive for him. My friend also plays tennis so I hope he is honing up those skills so that the little Geordie Sharapovs can get lessons from Dad when Mum is touring.

My friend's life has been a bit complex, not more so than many others, but that has weighed on him. What I have always liked about him, and in fact all of the people I call friends, is that when he finds me he has no hesitation in laying himself bare, even though years have passed since words crossed between us. The apologies about not having been in touch for years is not necessary as far as I am concerned. In fact, it should be that I send a complement for having bothered to seek and seek again.

I would love to say more about my friend and identify him but given that he does not even know about this medium for writing and sharing thoughts and opinions, I will spare him that. He did say "publish and be damned", though.

Ash Wednesday

If you are a Christian, today, Ash Wednesday, is a special day, marking the beginning of Lent, a time that recalls Jesus' wanderings in the desert, and last 40 days. It prepares us for the celebration of his death and resurrection, which culminates at Easter. In Jamaica, Ash Wednesday is traditionally a holiday (see Gleaner report). No such modern tradition in Barbados. Traditionally, we visit church to receive ashes--my wife went to Mass at 6.30am; I will receive them later. Concerning the wearing of ashes, I hold onto the words of my former Pastor in Washngton, DC (Dr. Frank Wade): "Do what makes you feel most uncomfortable; wear them or wash them off."

Traditionally, people give up something for Lent, fast and pray a lot. In recent years we have tended to make Lent positive, by taking on a challenge. I should have thought about it earlier but I have not yet decided what my challenge will be this year, though I may just run with the idea that I will get my father to walk all the way around my house without assistance as appropriate (he will have left by end-month so I have fewer than 40 days). It is also a good time for reflection. That is also fitting, given the sudden death of a good friend, Ed Casselle (a former US Deputy Assistant Secretary for Africa).

Like New Year's resolutions, I think grand proposals for Lent usually fall by the wayside. So, no grand proposals, just a simple intention to do the things I say I will.

Have a blessed day.

Friends

If you have children you will have experienced the ease with which they make friends. A friend for a child is someone with whom to play. So Mums and Dads are naturally friends. Anyone who does not offer an immediate rejection or give off bad vibes is also a potential friend. I love to watch Rhian “make friends”.

At the Norman Manley Airport last Thursday friendship making was in full force. Another little girl, aged about 6, was sitting near us with her mother. She had a Dora the Explorer roll-on bag from which she took out paper and pencils. Rhian siddled up to her and asked if she could draw too. In no time, the two girls were happily colouring on the same sheet of paper. Then Rhian started some reciprocal behaviour and took out the bright colouring pens from her back-pack, and the girls got into more colouring, this time being fascinated by the patterns coming through the back of the paper. Along walked another girl, aged about 5. “Can I do some colouring with you?” she asked. “Sure” was the natural reply, and the new entrant ran off to get permission from her mother before coming back to make a lovely threesome. And so they played for about an hour; all flights were delayed by about an hour so this was a blessing.

The friends began to break up as the flights got ready to leave. The last arrival was the first to depart—somewhat unhappily as her mother unceremoniously came to take her, and to the disgust of the other two girls never even acknowledged them or asked if their friend could leave.Really! Rhian recoiled from the mother—a bad vibes person—and had to be reassured before going back to play with her first friend. We too soon had to leave when boarding started for our flight.

As usual the parents barely got to meet each other. We did not get down on the floor and start colouring too. Adults make friends more slowly than children; I don't know at what point we lose spontaneity over friendship. As we get older we develop “agendas” so making friends is part of that; friends offer advantages that we cannot otherwise get. So friendships need more maneuvering and developing. We think about relationships, asking questions about why someone is appearing to be nice. That gets more complicated when the two genders are involved. As a father who has spent a lot of time with my children I know that I'm still an oddity because parenting is still often seen as “mothering”. A father or mother starting a conversation around their children can easily be surrounded by some sexual friction, real, or imaginary.

It's funny though that when thrown into an alien situation as we have been recently when based in another country on assignment friendships can happen more spontaneously. We now have lots of really good friends from our three years in Guinea and a smaller number from our ten months in Barbados. And we came to be good friends by just taking each other as we are. We seem to operate without agendas and enjoy casual socializing, which helps us bond better. We don't get to know each other very well in terms of full information about each others lives; we get to know some intimate snippets, enough to feel connected. This spontaneity can only work if you are open to it, so many adults and children will find themselves in new social settings and feel unable to make friends, then tending to limit contact and so end up having few friends. We can see this when children have to change schools and of course we adults experience it when we move to new places.

I like the way that children make friends most of all because they don't feel the need for personal details. No need to say, “Hello. My name is...” before you get down to play, and no problems just leaving, with no need for “See you again.” With socialization we adults feel the need to have that detail, so we are going to try to exchange addresses or phone numbers and of course we have to know names. That takes the fun out of it, and losing the sense of fun is sadly part of growing up.