Bliss is Ignorance

I know the old adage goes the other way around, but this is what I believe after going through arguably the WORST ordeal of my life. And it all started as most, if not all, ordeals typically start - by believing a lie.
Long story short, I don't think I could look at a sonogram video without bursting into tears. That is because it will remind me of that dreadful morning when I saw my child for the first and last time. However, not only was that the beginning of more dreadful truths to come, but knowing that an innocent life had to be the casualty of a one-sided fragile long-distance love was indeed the worst consequence of ignorance. Did I know that him moving into another woman's house (well, her father's house) was a recipe for disaster? Certainly! Then why did I trust him? Because I believed in his obviously half-hearted gesture of false commitment. How naive I was to not realize how far a liar will go to have his cake and eat it too. What I also didn't realize was how disrespectful she, the "roommate", would turn out to be.
And so I lived and breathed and sang in my blissful ignorance, until I was with child. And while I had to break the embarrassing news to the family (and father took it famously well (sarcasm)), and feel that pang of shame when I have to inform the gynecologist that the child's father was over 2,000 miles away, he was busy cavorting with his "roommate" as if there was no me. And really, there was no me. No me to call. No me to check on. And when God in His infinite wisdom took my baby into His everlasting arms, there was no me to comfort. The reason for this, I later learned, was that he was in pain. Never mind that I was the one who was simultaneously stripped of an unborn child and of the attention of the fool I loved... the fool who asked to marry me. No, he, the fool acting like there was no me, was in the most pain.
Now, as God revealed the true nature of my now ex-fiancé, there is absolutely nothing he can say to me to fully convince me of any contrition on his part. Not to say he hasn't tried. Yet, just as before, there is no heart in his words. The difference, this time, is that I am no longer ignorant of it. Nor am I blissful.

My so-called life

It is November 2007, and I have finally decided how I am going to remember this year. Last year 2006 was the Year of Transition. This year 2007, has been, without a doubt, the Year of Surprises. I had things happen to me that I never once dreamed of. I started this blog (that, admittedly, I've severely slacked off on). I had my first experience of playing mas (okay, that's not really in the "surprise" category, but it did contain a ton of surprises). Now, I am a woman who takes NOTHING for granted (or at least I try to be), so when I express surprise at, say, tiefin a wine on that guy I had a crush on for a minute, well, that would indeed hold true. The reason why I would be surprised at something like that would require its own blog post - and I don't like to digress too much from my point - since I have just gone far enough already... On the not-so-pleasant side, this year was the first time I got fired from a job. But back to the pleasant side (grin), there's the biggest and most important surprise of them all - I finally discovered my Soulmate. In the last place I would have ever thought to look - literally my own backyard.
That said, I thought by now, toward the end of the year, I thought the surprises would have been over. (Those who view my facebook profile know exacltly where this is going). One November evening - the first to be precise - I was on the phone with my honey, asking him about a very serious conversation we had not two days prior. Background info: Though my babes and I have discussed marriage as a long-term goal, we never gave it serious current thought, until one day (late October), we were in our we're-exponentially-depressed-because-we-miss-each-other mood, and he just said "You know what? Why don't we just get married and I move up there". And I said "How about that, then?" And that got us thinking about marraige as a very real possibility. So, I brought it up again, asking if this is something that he is really serious about. He answered with a question. THE question.
Suffice to say that we are now engaged.
EN!
GAGED!
Yes, ladies and gentlemen - he is not my boyfriend any more. He is my fiancé!
Well, I must cut this blog post at this point, but there will be a LOT more to come - including how easy this was to break to Father dearest, who is just a ray of F&^king sunshine as always. Ah done!

Arm and Leg for Sale...

Well, they might as well be! Dem prices for the TRIBE costumes wayyy too much!!! Granted, it is a marginal improvement from last year - at least in terms of what I paid. On a side note, and I may be mistaken, but it seems as though some of the male costumes got a do-over. To that I say THANK GOD!! The Titania section, for instance, was indeed unkind to the male counterpart. It was bad enough he had to wear pink - he also had WINGS for a headpiece???? Wtf was the designer thinking?? Well, thankfully, an improvement was made, though it's still kinda blah...
But I digress (typically). My best friend in Trini sent me an email, loaded with repititions of the "f" word, having something to do with the fact that the costumes were a wee bit over-priced. This, from a young woman who, on more than one occasion, played with Island People.... who had, as I recall, way more stringent payment demands on thier masqueraders than TRIBE - or at least they did last year.
Now, if they relaxed their standards, and things work in my favor, I may make a switch. But of course, this depends heavily on (things working in my favor, plus) me liking the costume, and the overall price.
Furthermore, my spoilt behind wants to go home for Christmas AND Carnival ... I hear us Sagittarius folk like to have their cake and eat it too!! But throw in the costume price, plus any fetes I manage to go to... *sigh*... let's just say that numbers can be discouraging.
However, as I mentioned, the prices have marginally improved. It may well be possible to play... but only time will tell. Meanwhile, I need my damn arm and leg - so doh make me sell dem! Ah done!

The Sacrifice...

After my first experience of playing mas in 2007, I can certainly attest to the fact that not only is the whole entire experience positively intoxicating - it's also potently addictive. That said, it is with great regret that I must forego the 2008 festivities...
The primary reason is (you guessed it) finances. With the start of a new job, it is highly unlikely that it would be economically feasible to purchase the necessary tickets and costume. Sure, I would continue to monitor the sequence of events leading to the climax of this (admittedly) short Carnival season. I will do my best not to make snide remarks expressing my envy of those who do get to participate this year. lol

Now what...?

Yes... for those who were bored enough to stumble on my page, this is a new post. I miss writing in this blog a LOT, and so many times I wanted to post an entry, but things were happening that I doubted I was ready to share. Granted I still somewhat feel that way - but then it occurred to me that I probably would years later... so what difference would it make? lol
Just when I thought the surprises were over...
I guess there is no way to sugarcoat this, so I'll just blurt it out thoughtlessly - I lost my job. I can give all sorts of excuses and reasons and justifications for this, but the truth remains I am currently unemployed - and more confused than ever! To make matters more complicated, I took a vacation! Hence why some of you may have spotted me in Trinidad last month. Truth be told, although I can understand why most people would view doing such as an unwise move, I do not regret going back home. In fact, now I am seriously considering going back for good. However, I am scared spineless. Tons of questions flood my mind whenever I think about doing that. Should I go back, would I be doing it for the right reasons? How am I going to go about it? Should I look for a job there - while still here? What am I going to do with my stuff?? And here's the kicker - is this God talking? Or did I simply bring this upon myself as some sort of manifestation of my dissatisfaction with my life here in Florida? "For whom the Lord loves, He corrects," says the Good Book. Am I being rash for allowing my mind to venture that far, or is this the chance I have been waiting for?
The bottom line is that if I want to make this move, I want to do it right. I want to do it in such a way that I cause no-one any burden or shame (its bad enough I did that already by losing my job). So, instead of making it a one-time solution (because life is hard and unfair no matter where you go), going home is my ultimate goal. The question is when to make my move. I know Dave will have a prompt answer for that (lol). All I know is that so-called right time cannot come too soon...

When d mout start runnin....

Now, we all know that with loyalty to one, there is a bias against the other. This fact is highly pronounced when it comes to patriotism. Personally, I haven't met a single Trinidadian that did not love their (our) country. That said, once Trinidad is under attack, one can't help but be put on the defensive. It takes a high degree of maturity to observe such attacks objectively, and even more so to agree with them (given that they are indeed true) when made by an outside party. Per Saucy's blog post this morning, I had to endure a list of scathing insults to our twin island republic on part of a self-righteous, opinionated Jamaican writer who seems to be fed-up with Caribbean strategic business practices. Now, I do not pretend to know all the facts that contributed to the issue at hand. No country is perfect, and as wonderful as I believe Trinidad to be, it is by no means an exception. If it is a fact that we dealt poorly with the Jamaican industry, we can't help but acknowledge such, and own up to such. However, once you start blaming other islands for your own financial mess (Barbados also took a hit in said article), then proceed to pick at every other UNRELATED circumstance (some of which occurred a long time ago.... Note to the writer: When it comes to arguments, KAIROS is KEY...look it up), one should wonder if said writer really had anything worthwhile to say on the matter.
Here are a few ludicrous statements that were made:
"In the case of Trinidad, nobody wants to live down there because there are poisonous snakes and no mountains."
Aren't mountains the first thing you see when you fly down here (from the North).... as a matter of fact, weren't they the first things Columbus saw upon discovering the island (from the South), which led to it's very name????
"Murder down there makes a speciality of mutilation."
As if murder rates are the last thing your country deals with... oh wait... aren't you worse off in that department???
"It seems to me nobody would want to go there, except another Trinidadian."
To you only, dear.... The amount of Jamaicans that run to Trinidad Carnival every year... and boast to ME about going when I couldn't.....
However, those are laughable, childish insults. Here is what upset me the most:
"What the Jamaican Government must now have realised are baleful consequences of the Amerindian heritage of Trinidad. They are not Taino but Carib, and those were cannibals. We were not, and it's not part of our make-up. Murderous today, but still not cannibal."
Granted this is the most childish of all statements, but this is downright disgusting slander. What does our Amerindian heritage have to do with our business practices? ABSOLUTELY NOTHING! If you had to resort to that crap to justify your sentiments on the matter, I have but two words for you: "GROW UP!!!"
Whew! There. I must admit, part of me is wondering why did I bother giving this nonsense the time of day. Shoot, Saucy herself called this article "insipid", and rightly so. However, as a PROUD Trinidadian, I will not take any misguided insults to our country sitting down, nor will I keep quiet when stupidity and ignorance run rampant within my midst. Ah done!

Yuh know how long...????

Jed! I had a mind to do dis loooooong time now. I know, ah relllll stickin.
No scene.
Anywhoo, as some of you may have known by now, I currently reside in Tampa, FL. There are few, if any, links to real Caribbean culture here. That said, I was pleasantly surprised last November when there appeared an article about Trinidad Carnival on the Tampa Tribune. However, I had since misplaced said article (seeing that I had more trustworthy sources for Carnival info.... yes Saucy, I mean you...lol). I later found myself contemplating whether or not I should share the article, seeing that it was from an outsider's perspective. I began scouring the Internet for it, finding next to nothing... granted I had nothing to work with, since I had forgotten details such as the date, newspaper section (common sense guesses were just NOT cutting it...doh ask...ah shame too bad) and whatnot ... meanwhile refraining from even mentioning it, since I like to show AND tell. Soon, I give up, and devote my energy to more pressing matters...
... Carnival comes and goes...

One evening upon attempting to sort an amorphous pile of what I assume are important documents...

"... Wha de...? It was HERE de whole time?"

...Jed, if I had a DIME for every time I had a moment like this...
I check the website printed on the article (turns out, during my internet search, that I was looking in the wrong place altogether)... and discover, much to my tagrin, that I had to PAY for the article (?!!) . So, seeing that I own a scanner (thank God!), I finally save these newspaper clippings of this article, and now I share them with you...

Enjoy...

The Article reads as follows:

By Blane Bachelor
Tribune Correspondent

The Streets go crazy during Trinidad and Tobago’s Carnival. It’s one serious, nonstop party.

Port-of-Spain, Trinidad and Tobago – It’s about 4 a.m, and a stranger is slathering my arms and legs with silver paint.
No, this is not some random, raunchy encounter (although the guy doing the slathering is quite cute). Instead, it’s preparation for a huge, pre-dawn parade called J’Ouvert, one of the highlights of what some say is the best street party on the planet: Carnival in Trinidad and Tobago.
Like every other aspect of Carnival, J’Ouvert (pronounced JOU-vay; it’s Creole for “daybreak”) is rooted on Caribbean traditions dating back to the 19th century. Slaves would mimic the Carnival parties, or fêtes, and the posh costumes of their French masters by dressing in rags and covering their faces in ashes.
My fellow travelers and I, too, have been warned to wear our most disposable clothing for the event – and it’s soon apparent why.
Sufficiently paint-smeared, we stumble through the streets of Port-of-Spain, the country’s capital, behind a truck fixed with huge amplifiers that jar the lingering sleep from our systems via the soca and calypso music blasted at ear-splitting decibels.
Almost immediately, we meet other revelers wearing devil-themed costumes and bearing pots of paint. Before long, color is flying everywhere, giving new meaning to the way Trinidadians describe themselves: “We the rainbow people,” they say, referring to their diverse cultural heritage.
Indeed, Trinidad’s ethnic mix lays the groundwork for one of the most welcoming celebrations in the world. Upon arriving in the small country, which is made up of the islands of Trinidad and Tobago, it’s quickly apparent that unlike Mardi Gras in New Orleans or Carnaval in Brazil, this extravaganza focuses on participating instead of observing.
Visitors, as they’re referred to here in place of the less-flattering term “tourists,” are not only allowed but also encouraged to take part in every event: watching steel bands practice, “playing mas” by marching in costume, and “wining” and “liming” – dancing and hanging out – with locals at every step of the way.
On the flight to this dot of an island, seven miles off the coast of northwestern Venezuela, it becomes quickly apparent that participants – both native Trinis and those who have become Carnival converts – take this party SERIOUSLY. I sit next to an American man who has been coming to Carnival for years and a Trinidadian woman who makes an annual pilgrimage to her home country for the festivities.
They’re part of the estimated 50,000 international visitors who pass through the country’s airport for Carnival, and are both brimming with excitement and advice.
“There’s nothing like it in the world,” says Ken, who lives in Atlanta with his wife, both of whom are admitted Carnival addicts. He warns a second later: “You can count on not getting much sleep.”
The evening we arrive, our group gets its initial taste of local culture at one of the huge fetes at open-air festival grounds around the city. By midnight, a light rain has started to fall, but it’s apparent nothing will dampen the spirit of this lively celebration. People are gyrating, singing, and swaying en masse to the relentless beats of a soca band onstage; by 4 a.m., I’m told, the party will still be going strong. We learn early that pacing yourself is crucial to survive the next few days of nonstop merriment, and when the sun beats down hot and unforgiving on the Kiddie Carnival the following morning, I’m glad I didn’t overdo it on the rum drinks.
Though Trinidad’s main costume contest, the Kings and Queens Competition, gets top billing, the junior version is not to be missed. In a colorful, vibrant parade that lasts all morning and into the afternoon, children of all ages sport stunning, elaborate costumes, from butterflies to dragons to mystical sea creatures. Each costume is as adorable and unique as the next.
Whenever I start to get bothered by the heat, I just look at the hordes of tots, seemingly oblivious to their stifling garb as they laugh and dance to the booming music. It is, in a word, delightful.
And when a pack of children enclosed in elaborate quilted ensembles that look like horses – complete with tall wooden stilts – trots around the corner, I can’t help but gasp. The children are elementary school age, yet they perch like Old World royalty at heights up to 7 feet. They’re followed by groups of even more daring stilt-walkers, who tower above us from at least 12 feet high.

Steel Panorama
Beyond the constant visual stimulation, the festival also is a feast for the ears. The steel pan, or drum, originated in Trinidad, and there’s no grander tribute to its spellbinding, distinctive sound than Carnival. Pan yards are free and open to the public throughout the celebration, and we drop in at several to get a firsthand taste of this mesmerizing music. It’s like having a front-row seat at an outdoor concert as bands squeeze in their final practice sessions before the big competition, Panorama. The music’s rhythms and melodies were intoxicating. The rows of players seem to be having the time of their lives as they twirl their mallets over as many as nine different drums.

J’Ouvert, the pre-dawn parade, is a sensory overload of the highest degree. We drag ourselves out of bed at about 3 a..m., bleary-eyed and sluggish. By 5 a.m., we’re covered in colored mud and dancing like maniacs through the neighborhoods of the city behind the music and drink trucks. The thunderous beats pounding through the neighborhood announce the rolling party in deafening defiance of anyone who dares to remain in bed.
Though I’ve slept for less than four hours, I get into the spirit of the festivities with a rum and pineapple juice. The cocktail instills enough courage to attempt the risqué, rump-shaking technique of the signature Carnival dance – the wine. Vanessa, a local, shows me the basic move: stand with knees shoulder-width apart, bend your knees, dip down low and gyrate your hips wildly. I apparently have it right because she exclaims: “Girl, yah sure dis yah fuss time at Carnival? Yah wine like yah a Trini!”
Each day’s activity builds up anticipation for the granddaddy event, the Band of the Year competition, although they’re not so much bands as organized groups of costumed participants. Ours is Tribe, a newer band that has chosen “What Lies Beneath,” referring to the underwater world, as its theme. We don our elaborate – but skimpy – hand-crafted costumes: a bikini and headpiece plus arm and leg bands, all adorned with hundreds of beads and designed to look like a fan coral. We take to the streets with thousands other revelers, who are also wearing little more than bikinis, beads, feathers and glitter.
All day, we “chip” – a form of short-stepping – through the streets to the beat of Carnival songs now etched forever into our brains. We alternate between rum cocktails and bottled water from the drink trucks edging along in the parade, a combination that keeps us hyped up and hydrated. Bit by bit, we work our way to the stage at Queen’s Park Savannah, a massive, open-air venue in the middle of Port-of-Spain. By 2 p.m., the moment has arrived – our band will cross the stage in front of the judging panel, which will award us points on how much spirit and soul we exude in a fleeting 15 minutes.
Before I know it, I’m swept up among about 2,000 sweaty, costumed partygoers, all booty-shaking and hip-dipping like crazed heathens. I can’t help but join the action, my hind side taking on a life of its own to the reverberating rhythms of the music blasting across the stage. It feels simultaneously shocking and liberating. Ken from the airplane was right – I have never experienced anything like this in my life. As quickly as we swarmed the stage, we were ushered off, another band eagerly taking our place.
Late that evening, we make our way back to the hotel, through streets littered with a mishmash of bottles and remnants of costumes, sipping our last beers and chipping to the fading soca rhythms. The next morning, we’ll board an early flight back to the United States, while locals head to churches to have their sins absolved and to promise good behavior – at least until Carnival 2007.