The image is of an exquisite pot of Rundon, or rundown, as it is variously called- Jamaican style.
That school year, in fact, I had stayed off the streets as much as possible and stayed at home mostly reading all the books I was able to understand from the odd collection amongst the three small bookshelves in the home of my now retired grandmother. School would soon be a thing of the past I thought as I leafed through some French volumes left to me by Miss Del Marie just before she left to return to Martinique. Continue reading
I wholeheartedly support the strong anti-child labor movement in the world as we must put an end to the attitude of adults who feel they can take advantage of the vulnerability of children.
Presently, I’d gone back to doing what I knew best to do which was helping my grandmother, but I got the impression that I was beginning to feel too comfortable being around my grandmother and her adult female friends and associates, especially running Susú. It was a time that, at every turn it seemed, I’d become so trained by my grandmother that I was feeling taken for granted. I was not only the general handyman to her but to every one of her friends. Continue reading
An image of Reverend A.F. Nightengale
Rector of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church of
It was on one of those nights that I sat beside my grandmother when we attended what for me was my first experience with any type of spiritual education or lecturing at one of the evangelical churches that my grandmother loved to visit. I say “visit” since she was ever wary of “organized” churches and preferred to visit all the many and sundry expressions of the Christian religion and the other unconventional ones like the “bush” churches which I will get into later. Continue reading