Thursday, November 27, 2014


By Delroy Nesta Williams
"Where the hell have you been all this time?" She asked me.
Confused, I looked on. We had only just met about 20 minutes ago. I knocked into her as I was entering the supermarket, doing my weekly shopping for cereal and snacks. I was only now beginning to settle into a routine schedule since moving here to attend school.
She had almost dropped to the floor and after my incessant attempts at an apology; she agreed to have a hot chocolate with me. At first we didn't say much to each other, I was still feeling bad about knocking her down as I was busily fumbling with my phone. But then she started to quiz me and before I knew what was going on, she was giving me intimate details of her childhood.
She was an only child raised by a single mother on the outskirts of Bridgetown. Though she didn't have the luxuries of life, she was always happy until a traffic accident left her mother unable to walk, unable to work. She had to quit school and find work to support her family. Her mother has been her whole world from since childhood and they were more like siblings. She never knew her father and only had a few pictures stored away in a photo album to go on just in case she somehow managed to cross his path one day. She said she only wanted to have a short conversation with him and ask him 3 basic questions but if our discussion was anything to go by, I wouldn't bet on it.
Although she told me a very sad tale, she still had a glimmer in her eyes, like she expected life to give her as much as she had already given of herself. She had that assured confidence when she spoke although she was quite reserved at first, offering only one-word answers when I fired a question or two at her in my responses to her questions.
But the conversation didn't feel like a job interview or some police interrogation. Not at all. I felt at home with her, like I was speaking to my very best friend, a rekindling after spending the summer vacation overseas. It felt like a reconnection after a brief sojourn apart from one another.
And then she smiled. A smile that reminded me of a past life; my past life. One that I had left behind a few months ago before deciding that I needed a new environment. A smile that hid a sadness that's present deep down in your heart. I should know, I bore that smile for years up until a few months ago.
Dominica had become increasingly stifling for me with the political turmoil, and the indifference that was slowly but surely creeping into our society was worrying. I made a choice to leave to further my studies but in truth, I left so I could live my life without the restrictions that Dominica had used to pigeon-hold me all this time.
My every move was under the microscope. Everybody knew me. I couldn't go anywhere without being recognized, who could live like this? The last straw came a few months before I left, since then I had just be coasting through the days awaiting my departure.
I had opened up to Kevin, a very close friend about a secret and instead of offering advice and words of comfort he proceeded to belt out abusive, damaging accusations. In an instant he reduced our friendship to nothing.
Now here I was sitting next to this Bajan young lady, who was pouring her soul out to me. I needed to listen, understand and be there for her, in any way that I could. I knew what she was going through, that was exactly what I had wished I had received from Kevin back in Dominica. I had gotten the opposite though. Putting myself in her shoes, I knew that I couldn’t just walk away now.
"All she needed was a good makeover and she would be the envy of all the girls and redirect the attention of the guys," I thought to myself.
The conversation kind of got stuck and I didn't know what else to say or ask so I just blurted out an invitation to her. I hesitantly formed those words with my lips and was afraid of rejection the moment the words left my mouth.
"So you want to come over my place, I could cook or order pizza or something?" I asked.
The thing is I couldn't cook. I could barely fry eggs. I lived off cereal, pizza and KFC. I expected her to turn down my invitation but she surprised me.
"Let me just call my mom and let her know I will be out a little later," she said.
And with that, I had a house guest. We walked towards my apartment very quietly, until I started humming a Selena song. She joined in too, even twirling and dancing along the sidewalk. She had a beautiful voice.
I lived just two blocks away from the coffee shop but we took 20 minutes to get there, arriving at the same time as the delivery guy.
"Perfect timing!" I exclaimed as I handed him the money and took the box from him.
"Supreme!" She said as she breathed in, "smells like Heaven too."
"You're a foodie?" I asked.
"Not really but I love pizza," she responded, as I pushed my way thru the hall towards my apartment door.
I lived in a two-storey apartment building, near a small but beautiful beach. I would sit on my porch on most evenings and watch the sun set over the turquoise water but I never ventured onto the beach. I couldn't swim. That was one of my little secrets that I kept hidden from the world.
I opened the blinds so she could see the view but she didn't take any notice. I figured she saw these vistas all the time living in Barbados.
She had chocolate-brown eyes, deeply creviced dimples and the small scar on her right eyebrow that could surely pass for a beauty mark. Her skin glowed in the dim light of the late afternoon, the dirty-gold sun rays of the Bajan sunset that just crept in through the panel. Though her smiled seemed to hide something, it still was sincere. She was happy in the moment.
"TV or music?" I asked.
"Movie!" She asserted without even a slight hesitation, almost like she read my mind.
"Any type?"
"Yea, anything will do!"
I sat back on the couch as she reached for the pizza box, placing a slice each on plates then handing it to me.
"You know what would be great with the pizza?" She asked.
"What?" I retorted gently.
"Wine!" She exclaimed, "Do you have any?"
"Yup, I do" I replied, lifting myself from the couch and finding my way to the kitchenette.
"Red or white?" I shouted.
"White! Please... Merlot?" She chuckled.
She was being funny but more assertive than I had expected. When I got back to the living room she was slouched back on the couch, leaving little room for me.
"So where am I supposed to sit? On the floor?" I asked.
"Yes," she joked, "but you can squeeze yourself next to me if you prefer."
I handed her the two glasses that I had poured, placing the bottle next to the couch and pushed my way under her so that her head rested softly on my chest. It didn't feel uncomfortable, I didn't feel romantic - it just felt like something that she needed at the time.
We sat there quietly sipping our glass of wine, taking small bites from the pizza and watching the movie. Every now and then she would let out this stifled laugh though, a hybrid of a chuckle and all out outburst. She still wasn't sure of what was going on. To be honest, I wasn't sure either, I was just glad to have some company over for a change.
Sitting alone in a room for months on end with only the TV for company can let anyone lose their mind at time. It was either the TV, books or my thoughts and too often my thoughts led me back to Dominica so her presence was more than simply welcomed between these four walls.
We sat there, quietly watching the movie and then instinctively she must have turned and softly kissed me. She was so nervous or shy about it that her lips almost didn’t touch mine. I almost didn’t feel it but it opened my eyes. Her eyes were closed as well. She must have closed them for the kiss. The movie had almost put me to sleep before the touch of my lips from hers.
"What are you doing?" I asked softly while gently pushing her away but not far enough that she would feel uncomfortable about it.
She looked into my eyes and I saw that look again, the lost little girl. The girl who had grown up all too quickly and faced the harsh realities of the world by her lonesome. Her face showed all the emotions of her past, the hurt and pain of a rushed childhood.
"I'm kissing you" she said. Her eyes falling to the floor as though now ashamed of what she had done.
"But why?"
"Why not?" She interjected, still not looking up at me.
"You can't! You shouldn't!" I replied.
"Why?" She asked, her tear ducts now swollen as the first signs of bodily fluid raced from the corner of her eyes unto her cheeks. She was crying.
“Because... Because... I am gay," I sounded as I wiped that first tear away. It was the first time I had told anyone since Kevin. She was the second person. This was the second time that I had blurted out something to her when I didn’t really want to; this was becoming a bad habit.
I got up from the couch, walked towards the window and stood there watching the horizon. I watched and just watched trying to block out what had just transpired between she and I. I too started to cry as I placed my hands up against the glass and leaned against it. It was cold, cold as my world in Dominica had become just before my exile to Barbados.
I remember the distance and darkness that had been dug between Kevin and me when I had told him. I had been completely honest with him. I hadn't expected his rejection and even after he scolded me I was half-expecting our friendship to continue. Instead he threatened me, hurled insults and was the main reason I had left Dominica. Although he hadn't told anyone, I was always afraid that my secret would get out. So as soon as I was able to get away, I ran to Barbados. I had tried calling him since I arrived but the calls were never picked up. I suspected that he changed his number. He wanted nothing to do with me. After all, he had made it extremely clear that he wasn't gay and wouldn't accept my lifestyle, not even as a friend.
Just then I felt her warm arms caress my waist.
"It's okay!" She said, "You’re no less of a person."

Monday, October 27, 2014

Conversation with a prostitute

by Delroy Nesta Williams

I entered the room behind her, slowly at first, my eyes getting used to the poor lighting and musky feel of the four corners. It housed only a bed and one fan, in the far right corner, that stood on a small wooden stool. A faint light entered from a solitary window that faced a street lamp.

She had led the way through a dark alley, whose cobblestone path made me wobble so much that I resembled one of the neighbourhood drunks that I had left at the bar a few minutes ago. They had been there since noon, drinking away their fortnightly paychecks from the soap factory about a mile away.

She hadn't said a word and I knew nothing about her at all, besides the pink summer dress that hugged all her curves and exposed so much cleavage that I could paint her aureoles with my eyes closed. The stiff sea breeze that rushed through the bar causing her dress to misbehave was a blessing to me, even though the salty air made my eyes water. My damn sinuses always acted up at the wrong time.

She hadn't spent much time at the bar before capturing my attention. After a long, hard day at the office and an even more frustrating period with my wife at home, this was definitely the experience that I had longed for; it was welcomed. I simply knew that I had an itch and she looked like the kind of woman who could scratch it.

I had offered her a drink but she simply motioned "no" with a shake of her left hand while grabbing unto my trousers with her right hand and pulling me off my stool towards her. I fell off unto one knee and she just giggled. She liked the effect she was having on me. Her fingers, long and thin, were painted with a bright pink nail polish, shimmering in the light. The nail of her left pinky finger was broken and she had a slight scar on the top of that wrist; maybe a burn from her childhood days. Those were the only blemishes that I could make out. Those were things I could surely overlook right now.

"Red Cap, no ice!" the bartender shouted in my direction as he screwed off the cap of the rum bottle. He had a sly smile on his face; he was prepping me for what was to happen.

I quickly swallowed the drink, after I made my way back on my two feet. The bar felt a lot smaller now. The four other guys who were there were engaged in a domino match and could care less about what I was involved in at that time.

It was now my turn to take the initiative, so I pulled her towards me, her cotton dress held firmly between my fingers. She rolled her waist against my manhood, to instantly arouse my sensations then proceeded to lead me out of the bar. I didn't need any more convincing than that. I was ready!

Ten minutes later and we were now in this small room. It adjoined the main house but was surely built as an extension, the way it stuck out like an ugly step child wanting attention. The décor inside didn’t seem appropriate for living which could only mean that it served other purposes - the quick rendezvous and scandalous moments. The sheets on the bed looked white but could have been any pale colour, so to the walls as the paint peeled off them. The tiled floor was partially covered with a rug that once we stepped on unearthed a cloud of dust that made it even more difficult to breathe in the closed up room.

She didn’t seem to mind at all, nor did I. She pushed the door behind us and proceeded to turn the lock, dropping the key unto the floor. I moved towards a corner of the room then made my way back to the edge of the bed, barely sitting down.

“You nervous?” she asked. And for the first time I heard her accent. She was Dominican, maybe Marigot or Wesley – I wasn’t sure but I didn’t ask. This wasn’t the moment for questions. Her voice was a little rough but still very welcoming, as she smiled at me. I only now noticed her gold teeth, the faint street light shining against it. She was very shapely with full breasts that wanted to pop from her bra. Her curved thighs were hugged by the dress which still continued to tempt me wildly. She had the face of someone who had been through a few trials and tribulations though. It was either the cause or the result of what had led her to this nightly profession.

“I've never done this before!” I squeaked out.

“Never done what before? Sex? You’re a virgin?” she asked, in a mocking tone.

“Never paid for sex!” I muffled, embarrassed by my confession.

“I don’t want your money. I am doing this for the pleasure of your company,”

“My company? But you don’t even know me!” I said.

“I like new things!” she replied, “now shut up before you change my mind.”

She pushed me unto the bed and I stretched my hands over my head. The bed squeaked and I feared that I had broken a few springs under the mattress. She didn’t seem to mind at all as she crawled over me, still with that sly, expecting look on her face. She unbuttoned my plaid shirt, kissing my neck as she ran her nails over my chest hairs. When she reached my skull tattoo, she kissed, sucked and bit it - twice. I howled from the surprise of the bites. She loved it. Her legs now had me pinned down as she grinded against my waist. I reached for her breasts to massage them but she pushed me back down.

“Not yet… I in control,” she commanded.

My wife never did that to me. Sex had become routine and predictable. She would get naked, make her way under the covers and I would follow her. She only wanted me to mount her in the missionary position. There was little to no foreplay from her. I would do the kissing, biting and scratching, if she allowed it. A good night would include a blow job but that’s only when I was persistent.

“What’s your name?” I asked, realizing that I knew nothing about the stranger in the bed with me.

“Annika,” she responded, “call me Annika.”

“Yes Annika, Annikaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa” I howled as she bit a tender spot just below my ribcage, on the left side. I squirmed from it. She had found one of my soft spots. She knew it too. She placed greater attention on that area and continued to bite and suck it. Every nerve in that area was now awake. I was so excited that I closed my eyes and pretended to be elsewhere to prevent an explosion inside my pants. I couldn’t pretend for too much longer.

Annika reached for my belt buckle. She ripped off the belt with one swoop of her arm and then reached into my boxers. Her hands were very warm.

“Well someone’s happy to see me!” she decreed.

A stifled response was all I could muster as I was already halfway through a moan. My legs started to tremble but only in one area. It was my pocket. My cell phone was ringing. I pushed Annika from on top of me and hurried up from the bed and reached for my pocket. My wife’s image and number blazed on the screen. Annika was now picking herself up from the ground. I motioned to her to keep quiet and I moved towards the small window. I looked out the small opening, making sure that no one was looking into the room before answering.

“Hi my Love,” I answered.

“Hi Baby,” she responded.

“What’s up?”

“Why haven’t you come home as yet?”

“I am just having a few drinks with the boys… clearing my head”

“Come home… Kaela is worried, I am worried… she keeps asking for you”

“Tell her Daddy love’s her,” I replied but before she had heard me, she passed the phone to our 4-year old daughter.


“Yes my Angel” I responded as my heart melted. Shame mixed in with pride wasn’t a great combination at that moment.

“What time you coming home? I miss you”

“I will be home in 30 minutes baby, daddy loves you… okay!”

“Love you too daddy,”

“Let me talk to mammy”


“I am coming home in a few, love you”

“Love you too Michael,” she responded as I ended the call.

Annika was still on the ground. She had a slightly puzzled look on her face but she was all too aware of what had just happened.

“Your girlfriend?” she asked.

“My wife!” I answered back.

“You’re married?”

“Yes… I am… and I should go now?” I asked.

“Go? Why? Nooooo!” she scolded, “we’re not done yet! We have unfinished business Michael” her honeyed voice crying out to me.

The revelation, though it had shook her a bit, didn’t dissuade her at all. She crawled unto her knees and made her way to the window where I was still standing. She pulled the cell phone from my hands and placed it next to the fan and led me back to the bed. This time around, she sat down while I stood over her. She was waiting on my move. I didn’t want to disappoint her but I kept hearing my daughter’s voice in the back of my head. It was etched there. I couldn’t concentrate on Annika with the images of my daughter’s face and smile - she had just lost a front tooth - fresh in my mind. Annika sensed it as well.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I can’t!”

“You can’t… or you won’t?”

“I can’t… my daughter… my wife,”

“Well let me!” she said, standing again to meet me at the end of the bed. I stepped back a bit.

She pulled at my shirt, her manicured nails gripping at my flesh slightly so that I knew she meant business. She curled her arms around my neck, pulling my head towards her bosom.

“You want me, I know! I saw it in your eyes in the bar,”

“Yes I do” I replied faintly, the admission hurting me.

The truth is Annika was doing me things that for years I wish my wife would have done. The dress she wore, her nails, her teasing, tempting nature and most of all… she was being aggressive in the bedroom. But I knew that this couldn’t last. Annika was a lady of the night and my life encircled revolved around my daughter, my wife, my family. Since we had Kaela, I had given up on my personal ambitions and lived to make her happy. She wouldn’t have been happy had she known her father was in this back alley room with a stranger - a total stranger. Maybe she wouldn’t have understood the situation right now but she would grow to resent me for it later in life. I couldn’t have that. I was determined to raise my child in a happy family, different from the one in which I saw my father fight my mother on most night before he left the house like a scavenger going off to feed on the waste of our village. He would return every morning, just before the sun was up and force his way on top of my mother. He probably thought we were asleep but the plywood walls never drowned out the sounds coming from their room. They would fight, she would try to fend him off, in his drunken state but most times he won the battle. It was worst during the weekends and holidays.

All these thoughts were racing through my mind. Did I want to be just like my father? I was beginning to become the very man I grew up despising, I had vowed not to be anything like him. My mother raised me up so that I wouldn’t be like him. I was failing her and myself as well.

“I can’t do this anymore Annika. It isn’t right, I love my wife” I said, withdrawing myself from her grasp. I grabbed my belt and my phone and quickly got dressed. Annika was very understanding to, unlocking the door to let me exit the room.

She followed me briskly through the alley back unto the main road. We crossed the street and re-entered the bar. I went to the bartender to order one last drink before leaving. Annika, who was still walking behind me, followed me and clung unto my shoulders, as I leaned over the bar’s counter. Suddenly I felt very uncomfortable but I didn’t want to create a scene, for me and especially with Annika. As I made my last request for a drink, a figure who was sitting on one of the stools towards the far end of the bar, turned around to look at me, a deep, broad smile upon his face. He got up and walked in our direction. The light now shun on his face. It was Damian, my wife’s brother.

“How am I going to explain this one? “I thought.

Thursday, October 23, 2014


got to Salisbury (community where I work) early this morning and it was raining (cats and dogs)... and now the sun is out, blazing hot, shining... inspired this poem... off to the field now, to do some real work, the one that pays the bills!

180 Degrees
By Delroy Nesta Williams

Looking up at the sky
And wishing it would open upLet out all of its raindrops
To drown out my sorrow and pain
A perfect camouflage to also hide my stains
Done a lot that I'm not too proud of
But sometimes these mistakes
Put you in the right place
Just have to learn to not repeat
Or get stuck in the remix
Time to dance to a new beat
Sing a new song
Let go of all you did wrong
And clothe yourself in a different garment
Exhale a bit
Release the steam
Before the pot boils over
Or the food burns to a blackness
Charred and stuck in the bottom
Needing to be scraped out and thrown away
But thank God, today is a new day
24 hours to do things in a better way
Start from this minute
Put on a newness
Bountiful fruits will be the harvest
Enough to share with the world
A little ripple becoming a wave
Because you've embraced change
It really begins with One
And the day has come
Where this One is Me
Time to fulfill a promised destiny
Look up at the clouds and sky,
The rays of sunshine
And smile
So no more stressing
Time to start living
And even when it rains
Remember those as showers of blessings!

Monday, October 13, 2014

Why Are You Still Single?

So Delroy, Why are you still single? 
By Nesta (because Delroy would never write this) 

They're all asking 
So Delroy, why are you still single? 
Why? Because I won't settle 
Not for less than I deserve 
Or Delroy, are you just running around? 
To that I reply, Hell No! 
Single isn't the status that I want 
Wife with two children, a house and a dog
Maybe a cat and definitely some fish 
Being single isn't my wish! 
Delroy, you know you're getting old? 
Hurry up, just pick somebody, already! 
But who? Just anybody? 
I know what I want and from whom to find it
But she keeps looking way past me 
And because of who I am and what I see in her, I keep on waiting 
But Delroy, just love anybody in the meantime 
Nah, that feels like a waste of my time 
I will only give my love to one more person in my lifetime, 
The next will be the last 
And after that, if it doesn't work out? 
Then fine, I'm prepared to take that chance!

Sunday, September 14, 2014

The Crapaud Story - the video

this is a video of a poem i wrote about the crapaud... check it out as it is being featured on the youtube channel of the Zoological Society of London in recognition of International Mountain Chicken Day, September 13, 2014

Monday, September 8, 2014

On Days Like These

wrote this poem yesterday morning, just about an hour after waking up from bed... i was reading a book and saw the line "I need to escape from this situation" and i just got to writing the poem... enjoy

On Days Like These
By Delroy Nesta Williams
On days like theseI just wanna escape
From this life I'm living
I just need a moment awayFrom the pain and anguish that I've been experiencing
Too much hurt on the daily
I'm in need of a sanctuary
From the rising of the sun
Way past the minute of its setting
Away from this world's troubles
Away from my personal struggles
I need a dose of happiness
Make that a double!
Time to separate what's important from all the rubble
What to leave behind on the side of the road
And what I need to take up as load
For the rest of life's journey
I want to be free from this freedom
Because its price is too much of a toll
They're asking for my mind, body and my soul
And I feel trapped in a system
That belittles you if you refuse to fit in
Battling against the status quo
Is definitely a no-no
But I've never been someone to remain quiet
A life of silence is akin to death
On days like these
I'm just in need of a moment to catch my breath
Time to regain my strength
Take an account of things that occurred
While I was too busy fighting my flesh
Now is the time to be on guard against principalities and powers
The time is at hand, soon is the hour
On days like these
I remember what's truly important
A simple action is better than the grandest intention
So while I'm giving a helping hand
I know that's definitely what I need
I'm hoping for some reciprocity
A shoulder to lean on
Or even cry if that's how I feel
I'm saving people but I also need someone to save me
I hope someone out there, somewhere
Is listening!
On days like these
Among the noise is some sweet music
If we just take a moment to listen
A cry for help or even a shout of praise
Someone is seeking to be heard
But we're so caught up in our own world
That we drown out the sound or pretend not to hear
Cast a blind eye, wearing those hater-blocker shades
On days like these
I need someone to slap some sense into me
Remind me that my life really isn't about me
Take into account that I'm just sand on the beach
Individually insignificant but collectively of such beauty
At sunrise and even more at sunset
When the waves crash and the sun rays melt
On days like these
Suddenly my life makes so much more sense
I'm thankful for the moment I took to think and recollect
And from today until the end of my days
I will always remember
I will always want
A day like this!

Sunday, August 31, 2014

Man Up

Man Up
By Delroy Nesta Williams

Man Up young boy Man Up

Daddy's gone
Out there in the cold world
Loving these young girls
So you have to play his role
So Man Up young boy, Man Up
No more childhood games
You have to bear the brunt of your father's shame
Every time mommy's hurt
She will drag you through his dirt
Because you're a constant reminder
That your father walked out the door
Leaving her to raise 3 kids on her own
And to make it even worse
You have all his characteristics -
Sly with words and full of tricks,
You even sound exactly like him when you speak.
Man Up young boy, Man Up
No more all out fridays followed by lazy saturdays lingering out late
You've got to go out and earn money to put food on your family's plate
There's no more crying for you
Suck it up and be a man
The one that your daddy couldn't be
It has to be you since anatomically it can't be your mommy
You've got to look out for your sisters
Make sure they don't fall prey to the drug dealers and gangsters
Or even worst, men like your father!
Who just gave up on his family
To chase young skirts
Who are almost the same age as his children
Now he has left you with the burden
Picking up the slack where he dropped it
So Man Up young boy, Man Up!
Drop out of school and get a job
Now is the time to pull up your pants, tie your waist and be strong
Simply because daddy is running from his responsibility
And mommy is too busy casting blame and scapegoatting
So this young boy, has to Man Up
Grow some moustache and beard
And face the world
Even though he isn't prepared
And all of this frustration
Is so new to him
As he tries to be better than his father
But every mistake or misstep
Serves as a reminder from his mother
That he's just like his daddy
And only adds fire to his failure
So now he simply rolls over
From one day to the other
Living a man's life while only a child
And he wishes somewhere that his father would be suffering
The same pain that was bestowed upon him
When daddy left his mother and sisters
Forcing his boy child to Man Up!

Tuesday, August 12, 2014

Kalinago Love Scene

So I remixed this love scene that I found in a book that I was reading... I just felt that the scene needed an extended version instead of the 4 lines the scene got from the author. I am not sure how ethical this is in writing but it is accepted in music, through covers and remixes. I hope this won't offend anyone. 
It isn't my intent to reduce the work of the author, just to give my own take on the scene... would appreciate some feedback and comments, how did I do... 
The scene was taken from Kalinago Blood, a recently launched book by Dominican writer Alick Lazare: 

Kalinago Love Scene
Her long unkempt nails dug into his back as he entered her for the first time. A small electric shock riveted through her, at once jolting her body but also freeing her legs as she wrapped them around his waist.
The move made her tearful but the ecstasy it filled her with surpassed any pain that she had ever known. She gritted her teeth and closed her eyes, a mixture of emotions that she was affronting for the very first time. 
Her long arms, one around the back of his neck and the other gripping his left shoulder kept her firmly in place as Captain Warner rocked back and forth. All this felt new to him as well, he never having had a woman as uncultured as a Kalinago.

A low moan escaped from Barbé’s mouth and although it surprised her, it felt too natural to raise any alarms. She bit the tip of the Captain's left ear, licking inside it. She could feel the Captain's penis touching the walls of her vagina, massaging her. His deep groans overshadowed hers, as he rushed his strokes, delving deeper and deeper, very eager to give her all of his member. Her waist now moved in unison with his, similar to how she had seen the waves crashing upon the sea shore.
The Captain’s back arched away from her and with one final thrust he collapsed upon the young lady, her body unable to hold him up as he crushed her, the sweat from his forehead splashing over her face and burning her eyes.
He laid there so immobile, that for a moment she thought him dead, except for the low gasps that he allowed to escape from his mouth.
She now felt fully awaken, her eyes lit up - she wanted more. But the old man just rolled over to the side and within minutes his deep snore meant it was all over. She laid there, a tingle between her thighs wondering when again The Captain would take her.

Saturday, August 9, 2014

The Racial Rift – Kalinago versus Blacks

The racial rift – Kalinago versus Blacks

Before I knew what I now know, I had always considered Kalinagos as black people, a lighter shade with straighter hair but still very much black.

Maybe it was because although I am black, I spent a lot of time down the road at my neighbours house.
They were/are Kalinagos. I consider them family and although the patriarch of their family sometimes bellowed out "sacré negre" at some of us, I always thought it was more in jest; maybe it was because I didn't really understand the underlying emotions at the time or because my creole wasn't any good. He spoke better creole than most of us.

It was until I was an adult though, and started actively engaging in discussion with my Kalinago friends that I came to grasp resentment and even some bitterness towards “Black” people. I've also observed the same from black people towards Kalinagos in all honesty.

I have never been in a forum where race relations were discussed but in the new age of social media I have come across heated debates on Facebook that make me second-guess my place of abode. Is this Dominica that they're referring to? Are these things still on-going?

It's commonly "accepted" by many that the Kalinagos sold Roseau for a bottle of rum and that stigma has been attached to them for generations now and we wholeheartedly embrace this saying without gauging the effects or impacts that it is having on our present day environment.

I remember being at a presentation and the Kalinago man who was to report started his "presentation" by stating, "you know we are illiterate people already" clearly setting himself up for ridicule and failure. What a perception to have of your people and what a stigma to place and propagate about yourself! This isn't an image that professes self-confidence.

The Kalinago people feel slighted by history. Who can really blame them having been labeled as cannibals and other derogatory terms for centuries? But as Alick Lazare reminded us at the launching of his book Kalinago Blood, "it is so important that we avoid 'the danger of the single story' and tell our own, from our perspective and with our voice."

It is damn well time we (Kalinagos and Blacks) started to tell our own story.

Black people were also slighted by history as well and still bear a lot of the stigmas that were attached. The stories of resistance and perseverance, a commonality between black Dominicans and Kalinagos, though is what should be mostly of our focus but that's where we falter most. Even before the abolition of slavery a wedge was driven between the Blacks and Kalinagos and it continues today.

How do we break that wedge, break down that wall. Though outright acts of racism may not form part of our everyday society, we must honestly admit that underlying tones are there. I’ve seen it, I’ve experienced it too (knowingly and unknowingly) and I may have even contributed to it (unknowingly) but like I’ve come to understand from Dr. Maya Angelou, “when you know better, you must do better” so I urge us all, to now do better.

I think I will go back to considering Kalinagos as Blacks now, for they are my brothers and sisters on this island of Waitukubuli aka Dominica.

Tuesday, August 5, 2014

sexual experimentation - a rite of passage?

There's a white elephant in the room. Actually, the elephant isn't white
at all, it's mainly black, unless of course I'm colorblind. That elephant is thousands-strong and includes a lot of our Dominican young men and women.  

While our society parades itself as this happy group of heterosexuals we have a marauding, increasing number of young people who "dabble" in homosexual and bisexual lifestyle as a coming of age activity. 

I see it at activities, I hear about it from my younger family and friends. It's in their schools, churches, groups, etc. Young men and women who are secretly and not so secretly experimenting with their sexuality in an effort to "find" themselves. Since when does sex and sexual preference help you to find yourself? 

While we may never have the statistics to prove this, mainly because of the social taboos we place on sex as a society, we still need to have the fora where we can address/discuss youth sexuality. 

For too long we've allowed these discussions to be held behind closed doors and among friends, often times giving misguided or misleading information and with little or no guidance. No one to provide the basic facts and truths.

So as I write and you read, hundreds of Dominican young men and women are flirting with their sexuality. As a friend put it, "they're not exactly gay, they just prefer women for now because I know some of them who still have boyfriends" and once the experimentation is over, they will revert to their boyfriends. He was speaking about a group of young women but I'm sure it could have very well been a group of young men also and not simply because of their clothing or demeanour. Our young men are flirting with bisexuality as much as our young women. 

Is the experience worth it? Is this bisexual culture a healthy one? Is it a phase? Or is this culture something that has always been there, occurring behind closed doors? 

Is it solely due to the influence of the American media and culture that daily bombard us with images of the rainbow culture? No it isn't, Dominica already had gays, lesbians and bisexuals long before the first television was hooked up to electricity. While it is true that we have more overseas influence in this generation in comparison to past generations we can't simply lump the issue into that heap. 

Sexual experimentation long been heralded as a rite of passage for young people as they journey to adulthood but they should know that their sexual preferences shouldn't define who they are or who they want to be... 

It's one thing to experiment, it's a totally different arena when you think that the experimentation will somehow define the kind of person you will become in the future... 

How do we address this? Is there a need to address it? Who will address it? The Church? Schools? Government? Youth Council? 

One thing is for sure, our sexuality will continue having an impact on our individual and collective health as a society as we still grapple with the taboo and secrecy that exist in hypocritical Dominica. 

If we pretend it doesn't exist and we don't address the repercussions, it will just go away... Yea right, Dominica... Yea right!

Sunday, July 27, 2014

Dear Dominicans part ONE

Dear Dominicans 

Haitians are people too! Just thought you all should know that and recognize them for who they are. 

Dear Dominicans 

Haitians aren't the only people who use obeah/voodoo as a cultural practice. Dominicans do it too. And yes, it is a part of our culture as well...

Check for yourself, I did!

Dear Dominicans 

Haitians aren't the only people who travel to other countries in hopes of betterment for themselves and their families. Just take a look at Guadeloupe, Antigua, St. Martin and the Virgin Islands, riddled with Dominicans who are doing the same. And yes some of these Dominicans get involved in wrongdoing, doesn't mean that all the nationals are bad people... Just like the Haitians as well...  

Dear Dominicans 

Haitians aren't taking over agriculture and other professions. These are the careers and jobs that you've neglected and belittled. In truth, Haitians are pulling up the slack where you dropped it, be thankful! 

Dear Dominicans 

Haitians are opening up businesses here, there and everywhere. This isn't a bad thing. It's actually a very good thing since a lot of Dominican youth prefer to sit idly by on the blocks and wait for handouts. Yes, I said it... Don't like it? Sue me!

What we need to do is emulate the entrepreneurship spirit!!! 

Dear Dominicans 

Haitians aren't the only ones "taking over" because while we complain about how hard everything is, we've been having droves of Haitians, Chinese and Dominicans (the other Dominica) working and even thriving here... You know why, because they don't mind leaving their comfort zone to actually work! 

Dear Dominicans 

This post isn't really about Haitians, it's actually about YOU... 

Time to pull up your socks!

Tuesday, July 22, 2014

Love On The Run

By Delroy Nesta Williams

Strange, this feeling I'm feeling
You may belong to another
But that can't keep me from yearning
For you touch, your kiss and your loving
I know it must feel wrong to you to act on this emotion
But wrong never felt this good and put me in such an ecstatic mood
So I'm biting the bullet and hoping for the best
Let's see how long we could keep this a secret
From your friends, family and your boyfriend
I'm taking this to the grave, I'm with you until the end
Late night rendez-vous, from midnight til half past two
Would love to wake up in your arms to greet the rising sun
But we both know that we can't have it all
So right now I'm simply content to have some love and lust on the run
Like two teenagers, we're just having fun
No one to point fingers and to cast blame
No guilt and no shame in this game
Of love, lust, just two bodies wanting each other
Lovers in the dark, but in daylight content to be strangers
Who knows what's next
As we make our way through life's maze
But one thing is for sure we will always have these memories
Moments to keep me warm when I'm alone
Something to look back on and smile when I'm old
As I remember the first time you let me close
The look in your eyes and the nervous excitement
As I leaned in for the kiss
Your lips barely parted when we started
But I lit a fire in your soul
And pretty soon, you were the one losing all forms of control
Digging your nails into my skin
While I'm praying God forgives us for this sin
Since that moment we've been running on pure emotion
If we stop and think that will ruin everything
And I hope you don't see the worry in my eyes or read the danger in my thoughts
Because, I honestly don't want us to stop
This may lead to the detriment of you and I
But what's lust if love is blind?
I see more clearly with my eyes closed to this world so full of judgment
So let's pay them no mind
We will deal with the end when it gets here
Because in my heart of hearts I know this can't last forever
But I won't walk away if you promise me you'll always stay
Even if the world discovers what we keep under covers
I can survive though the pain if I have to
I just can't survive if we stop now and don't see this thru.