Dust

Dust
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."

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.

“Daddy”

“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”

“Okay”

“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.

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

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.

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!

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!

A woman of Roseau

Hi friends

it's been a while since i actively blogged... to be honest, i've been focusing more on my Facebook page (www.facebook.com/DelroyNesta) but i've got some new stuff that i am working on, some of which i will also share here... This is a new poem (wrote it last night), inspired by an image I saw as I was driving through the streets of Roseau after i came from a poetry show (Lyrics Under The Stars):

A woman of Roseau
By Delroy Nesta Williams

I'm sorry but there's nothing innocent
About a woman walking through Roseau's streets at 2:00am
With the confidence of sanitary napkins in her steps
Because her bank account is just a little more swollen than the belly of her teenage daughter
Who's about to make her a grandmother
She got paid for that transaction
And even got a little extra
To spread her own legs
It's bad enough she sold her child
Now she's also riding shotgun at the molester's side
Tomorrow she can afford to cook all her children Sunday lunch
And even have extra to cover supper.
As her high heels hit the pavement
Rhythmic like a Triple Kay drum set
You realize there's another story behind her swinging assets
One of a woman fooled by men that she loved
As one by one they promised her the world
But one by one, the left... Leaving only remnants of their presence
A gift of some sorts that continues to give back
Because now instead of one generation
Her tiny, almost broken down shack
Houses children, grandchildren and even boyfriends
You look into her eyes and you see a lifetime of hurt and pain
A woman stained like the clothes of a farmer who toils the soil planting bananas and plantain
But the cargo boats are long gone
And her fruits are still on the port
Bathing in the hot, dry sun
A consignment of rejects
Dropouts of schools and fired from jobs
Because they've got no qualifications
So this woman has the Earth and Mars to shoulder
And I can only guess how she makes it from one day to another
But her midnight walk only gives us a clue
As to why this woman doesn't sleep when we do
Why she plies her trade when the owls howls
And only the barking dogs and crowing cocks summon the sunrise
If you look closely you will see the fear in her eyes
Because her offspring may just pick up her calling
They're already mimicking her tendencies
Being fooled by the first dude who speaks of love
It's a vicious cycle that won't be stopped
Because a child can't raise a child to be a woman
That mathematics doesn't add up
So she just adapts
And the children just adopt
Because to her it has become second nature
But now it's 3:00am
And she's home
But she can't go to bed
She's got so many things running through her head
Got to cook, clean and basically do everything
Be the man, woman and sometimes even the child
A household running wild
And it's so sad to know
That this shit is happening right next door!

open letter to DSC Board Chairman, Mr.Meade

Dear Mr. Meade:

I greet you with the utmost respect that a young person can have for an individual such as yourself in a privileged position of power, respect and influence.

First and foremost, I told myself that I wasn’t going to address this issue but that I would leave it up to the authorities to take the rightful steps to ensure that our students are protected and have a safe environment in which they can learn and develop. Secondly, I was hoping that the issue would bring youth and youth leaders to the fore and they would see it as an opportunity to champion a cause for which the entire nation needed to show concern.

My comments themselves do not stem from the original article which made several rounds on social media, talk media and/or websites but rather from a DNO article which published your thoughts on the matter. And for this reason, I must speak… to borrow a quote from a popular 2014 calypso. From the minute I read the article and your comments on the matter, my heart was pricked to respond. It is not my wish to judge your reasons for such a stance however, I must wonder about a few things:

1. What is the due diligence process established at the Dominica State College when issues of sexual misconduct arise?
2. Isn’t an initial investigation by the Chairman of the board, in this instance, and a consultation among board members necessary before a matter such as this can be “swept under the rug?”
3. Is there a code of conduct or a code of ethics established by the board as it relates to relations between school officials and students?
4. What’s the primary role of the institution as it relates to allegations of sexual misconduct? Is it the protection of students or the support to employees?
5. What effect will your personal stance, as you have yet to consult the board on the matter but having publicly addressed it in media, have on the reputation of the institution?
6. Will this issue further contribute to what most people think is the moral decay of our general population, more importantly among the youth population?

I am not saying that Dr. Peters is in any way culpable but there should be some form of internal investigations by the Board or some independent committee as this is a serious ethical issue. I also think that an investigation would go a long way in restoring Dr. Peters’ reputation if he is indeed innocent of the charges laid out against him in the initial article. A lot of people are of the impression that this is a serious matter, although they won’t publicly voice their concern, so the repercussions can be more damaging if it is addressed in an ad hoc manner.

This is even more damaging to someone who may want to come across to report some issue that they suffered for fear of it being dismissed before due process has been followed. I urge you to rethink your earlier thoughts and do the necessary as it relates to the information relayed in the original article.

I do pray that my open letter is received in the manner in which it is meant, that is, with the best intentions as it relates to both the safety of students at the Dominica State College and any other learning institution on our Nature Island, as well as the restoration of the image of institution and the persons involved in this unfortunate situation.

Respectfully yours,

 

 

Delroy Nesta Williams

Concerned Youth

The Kiss

The Kiss
By Delroy Nesta Williams

She took one lick of her ice cream and I knew that I wanted those lips against mine. It was cherry vanilla. The dim light of the lamp post and the short rain shower that had just subsided meant that we were alone on Old Street under one of the huge verandas that had made Roseau famous. The French-influenced architecture was all around and provided temporary shelter from the short shower, but it was the furthest thing from my mind. There were beads of rain drops on her forehead and cheeks, her hair partially covered her visage but I was still able to look her straight into her eyes. They were hazel, complimenting her skin color. She looked at me, smiled and those dimples of hers just made a small cry to me. She wanted me, her eyes also told the story. I touched her left hand, held her fingers between mine and pulled her towards me. I could feel her heart racing, even more than mine. Her lips were still covered in the cold ice cream as I leaned in and touched the corners of her mouth whipping off a spot. I licked my finger.

"You can have the real thing," she said

"The ice cream?" I teased.

"If that’s what you really want," she responded.

"If that’s what you’re giving me," I nervously quipped realizing now that I was on the brink of that first kiss.

She leaned in and for a moment my mind took a journey back to our very first encounter. Who would have thought that the brief two-minute meeting of nearly three years ago would have led to this instant?

Annie, her sister had introduced us during one of our brief mid-town meetings. Annie was the coworker of my ex-girlfriend Crystal and often teased me about getting back with her. Her relentless teasing had morphed into a friendship, one that would prove very tricky but beneficial. On one of those afternoon encounters, Sophie was with her. I didn't pay her any mind at first but during those two quick minutes Sophie did something that would remain with me for a while. I didn't even figure it out at the time but I did recognize it the next time we met. In fact, I recognized it from a photo I had seen of her. She was the girl that I had always wanted to be with but was never lucky enough to encounter. I had often found myself in affairs with needy young women, needy of my money, my time and that usually turned me off. For one, I didn't have much money and secondly I was a busy-bodied person. My free time was spent traveling around the island or freelancing overseas.

I was so busy that my last relationship was based on a Facebook encounter, which coincidentally would be where I came across Sophie again. It just happened one day while I was bored at my office. I logged onto Facebook and there she was, ForeverFabulous, her profile name. Her profile picture stared me right in the face, her eyes fixed on mine or maybe it was mine fixed on hers. I can’t remember those details. That's when I realized that I needed to have her, right then and there. She jumped off the page and appealed to me. It was sexual but it was also a lot more. She stood in her living room, in a green and yellow bikini. That confidence called out my name. It was like she was saying "I'm sexy, I know it but you still can't have me. Eat your heart out."

I was determined to prove her wrong. I had a knack for defying the odds. I had to do it this time as well. I would get her. Yes, she would be mine. So I sent a desperate friend request and I got back an immediate acceptance. It was on and popping. I didn’t say anything to her at first, I just sent a poke. The attention-seeking poke. I got no response so it was back to the drawing board, plan B. I sent a solitary “hi” to her inbox, still no response. It was time that I made her feel my presence on Facebook, I would not be ignored. It was time to go through her photo albums. I would like every one, except those that looked like she was with her boyfriend or some male companion. That would be a clear signal to her; that should work. It didn’t – nothing, not even after two weeks of “stalking” her profile.

I was going to do the desperate thing next but her sister saved me the trouble. Just as I was contemplating sending her a timeline message about my desperate need for her, Annie tagged Sophie in a status. She responded so I joined in the conversation too. Pretty smart, if I might say so myself. She wouldn’t ignore my comments after all, they were general and discreet but I made it evident that I was trying to get her attention. I sent her a private message at the same time. Bingo, she replied although not the response I wanted:

            “Please, leave me alone, I don’t want a man and I’m not interested in you,”

            “I’m not trying to be your man!” I replied defiantly.

            “So why are you bothering me then?”

            “Oh, so you’ve noticed?”

            “Yes, so now stop it please!”

            “I’m sorry but I can’t stop,”

            “Well then, I will have to stop you!”

And with that she signed out on me. I felt cold, defeated and fearful. What would she do? I signed out immediately too, I didn’t want to know. I stayed off from Facebook for a few days but when I went back, there was nothing.

I would not be daunted by this first act of rejection so I sent her another message. She responded:

            “Persistent?”

            “Very,” I replied.

            “I like that,”

            “Is that all that you like?” I asked.

            “There are other things,”

            “Can I find out?”

            “Can you?” she quipped.

            “I can!” I confirmed.

She responded with a smiley face. I was in. I found out that she lived in Goodwill with her mom and brothers. She was still in a relationship but it was on a rocky road, and although she had a son with her boyfriend at the time I thought I could work my way around that. Just a minor detail I thought if she was going to be mine. I wouldn’t try to break up her relationship but I would still make my move.

Over the next few months we would talk on and off on the phone. I also saw her a few times in Roseau while I was running errands for work. I visited her workplace every time I could, even if it meant spending just two or three minutes. I would always make sure I made her smile before I left, giving her something to think about after my departure. I had hoped she thought about me after my brief visits. Thoughts of my friend zone situation with Miss George would often cloud my mind and get me depressed but I was determined not to fall to the trappings of any other young lady looking for mere friendship. “You’re everything I want in a man, but nothing I am looking for in a lover,” she had told me, the final dagger in my coffin. It took me years to get over her but I had managed, although I still suffered from temporary lapses and bouts of depression. She was the last girl that I would attempt to give my love, there was no more love in me to give.

But Sophie was different, we talked often about meeting up to spend some real time together and our conversations had crossed the friendship barrier a long time ago, but she always kept brushing me off with some reason or another. I never complained though, even if it killed me inside because I had already made my intentions clear to her so many times; I wanted her and I would be as patient as I could, as patient as I needed to be to get her into my arms, even for a fleeting moment. I wanted her if it meant I was the sidekick, just a scratch-my-back-when-it-itches type of situation or the main squeeze but I couldn’t stay in the friend zone for too long. I had suffered in the friend zone too many times in the past; I didn’t want any more female friends. Maybe I was too direct but it was better than being uncertain.

Kellyne, one of the few female friends that I had allowed to get close to me had invited me to the Windsor Park Sports Stadium to watch the Dominica National Football Team receive a pounding at the hands of their neighbor, St. Lucia. I had always liked her company; she was one of the ladies who would get other young ladies to take notice of me. She didn’t mind that, she wasn’t interested in me in any way but she drew attention to me and Dominican women tended to gravitate to men who were already taken, so I played the role. I held her hands while walking up the stand, giving her small nudges while we sat next to each other. I even left my seat to get her popcorn and soda. I fed her the popcorn, we laughed and laughed loudly. Kellyne was the perfect attractant so I played the boyfriend role and it felt good.

My phone vibrated in my pocket, surprising me so much that it caused me to shift in my seat.

“So that’s your girlfriend?” the anonymous text asked.

“Yes!” I replied, lying but playing along to see where this was heading.

           

“Okay,”

“Just okay?”

“I thought you were single,”

“Is that a problem?”I deflected.

“No it isn’t!”

“btw, who is this?”

“lol, now you’re asking?”

“Yes, now you got my interest”

“I’m just behind you, a few rows, in yellow,”

And with that I turned around slightly to see Sophie with a sly smile on her face. She had this yellow flowered summer dress that hugged her body. Not the type of outfit that I expected her to wear but she showed it off very well. There was no one sitting next to her though, strangely.

           

            “Are you alone?” I asked.

            “Yes,” she responded.

            “Where’s your boyfriend?”

            “He doesn’t like football and he lives far!”

That was the opportunity I needed but Kellyne was with me.  Kellyne wasn’t paying any mind to my text messaging as she was embroiled in the game. She was one of the few females that I knew who could understand football but she was a Manchester United fan and that point of contention was enough to turn me off. Manchester United was my sworn enemy. Kellyne knew it too and rubbed it in every time she got a chance, especially since my beloved Arsenal were yet to win a trophy in eight years.

           

            “So what are you doing after?” I messaged Sophie.

           

            “I’m not sure… head home, I guess,”

            “Right away?” I asked, a little disappointed as I turned my head towards her again. She was staring in my direction, right at me to. She smiled when she received my message.

            “Yes… you have plans for me?”

            “I was hoping we could spend some time together,”

            “But you have company,”

            “Let me worry about my company, just make sure you’re company later,”

            “Yes sir!” she replied

            “Meet me by I-Roc around 8,”

           

            “Cool,”

            “Nice,” I replied, turning my attention back to the game and Kellyne. Suddenly I found myself nervously excited, fidgeting with my phone and keys. I couldn’t think straight as I was already imagining Sophie in my arms.

I-Roc was locked by the time she met me there, almost an hour later than we had planned. I was just beginning to walk away when she called my phone. The Arch wasn’t the safest place to be alone at that hour. A vagrant had made the gazebo his bedroom, as he clumped away in a corner trying to keep himself warm even with a very cold river breeze to his back. I was shivering although I wore my hooded sweater so it amazed me how he looked so at home in rags on the cold concrete floor while at the mercy of the river. He actually snored quite loudly even without a comforter or pillow.

Sophie gave me a tight squeeze, so tight that I didn’t even feel like letting go. Her nipples pierced through her dress; either as a result of the cold weather or she was really excited to see me. I closed my eyes briefly to imagine my fingers running over her plump breasts and my tongue massaging her nipples. I was trying to hide my anticipation but my eyes were a dead giveaway.

            “Let’s get out of here!” I ordered.

           

            “Where are we going?” she asked.

            “You want ice cream?” I hit back, my voice trailing as I pulled her by the arm. I didn’t even wait for an answer. I wanted to show my decisiveness tonight. It was a part of my plan. As we strolled towards Island Ice Cream I couldn’t help but think about Kellyne. Although I was having this very overtly sexual conversation with Sophie my mind drifted to Kellyne, I had left her immediately after the game. The poor girl thought I was going to check on my mom who suddenly developed chest pains. I had text Nigel, one of my “bomb tags” and told him to call me back but remain silent on the other end of the line. I pretended to be talking to my sister and was reacting to her news about my mother’s pain. Kellyne was very sympathetic and even suggested to drive me to my mom’s house but I declined her assistance. I told her I needed to walk, needed to think and clear my mind before I became too emotional in front of my mother. The truth is that I wanted to rush off to meet Sophie. Now that I was with Sophie, I was thinking of Kellyne though. I snapped back to reality, and nudged Sophie a bit to let her know that I was still there with her. She smiled and pushed back at me but I was expecting it. I grabbed her by the arms and pulled her next to me.

            “It’s about time I hold you in my arms, I could get used to this,” I said.

            “Me too, I like the feel of being in your arms,”

            “I don’t want to let you go,”

            “What about my ice cream?” she reminded.

            “Oh yes, the ice cream,” I repeated.

I continued walking shoulder to shoulder with her, my hand brushing against hers, every now and then holding it for a few seconds, just to keep some form of contact. She didn’t mind, she was actually more open and more unperturbed than I would have thought.

            “So what flavor ice cream do you want?” I asked upon entering into the shop.

            “I want whatever it is that you get me,”

That sounded so suggestive that it caused me to stumble on the tiles. I grabbed one of the pillars to steady myself as Sophie pretended not to notice. The shop was filled with parents and their children so we ventured unto a small wooden bench just behind everyone else to wait our turn.

            “I want to tell you a secret,” I said

            “Tell me!” she ordered

            “In your ear,” I responded as I leaned towards her.

She leaned towards me as I placed a soft bite just on her ear lobes. She hissed but didn’t make awkward or rash movements to draw the attention of the crowd.

            “I should have expected that, I will know better next time,”

            “What else should you expect,”

            “I don’t normally have expectations, so surprise me,”

            “That I can definitely do,” I confirmed  and stepped forward to order the ice cream.

I got her a double scoop of ice cream on a wafer cone and for myself, a bag of M&M’s.

Sophie’s lips touched mine and although they were cold, a bolt of electricity shot across her body into mine. Her lips were so soft and moist and as I caressed her tongue with mine I brought my hands to her cheeks, holding her head in place to savour the moment. I lay soft bites on her lips and ran my fingers to the back of her neck. She jerked forward slightly and her pelvis slanted right into my crotch. I was fully erect and she knew it. She rubbed against me letting out some soft moans as I lowered my hands down her back and grabbed her ass. She dropped the rest of the ice cream cone and pushed her hands under my sweater and vest to dig into my flesh. Her cold nails caused my back to arch. She smiled and let out a lowly giggle under her breath. I slightly pushed her in between two vendor’s stalls and pinned her against the wall. I started to thrust my waist into her, grinding between her thighs. Her moans were getting louder. I lifted her dress, lowered her panties and squeezed her bare ass with my hands. I wanted to have her there and then. I pulled her even closer towards me, now nibbling on the back of her neck as she ran her nails up and now my back, it felt like she wanted to tear my flesh from the bones. I wriggled myself in such a way that my pants were beginning to fall to my ankles and lifted her left leg. She didn’t stop me. At that very moment a car whizzed past us, splashing a pothole filled with dirty water in our direction. That must have woken Sophie from her sexual daze and she jumped from my grasp and pulled up her panties.

            “Stop, stop, we have to stop,” she cried out.

            “Okay, okay,” I replied still a little dumbfounded myself.

            “I shouldn’t even be here, I am not a cheater, I am not a cheater,” she kept on repeating.

            “Let me take you home then,” I said, hoping that I would get the chance to redeem myself on the way to her house.

            “No, no… I can make it on my own,” she replied, as she dashed away from me.

I tried to chase her forgetting that my pants were down to my ankles and fell, my arms just saving me from the gutter's muddy water. I pulled myself up, put on my pants as quickly as I could and ran in the direction that Sophie had taken. I took the corner and ran up Great Marlborough Street but Sophie was speeding away already, almost out of sight. I didn’t want to chase her any further to create any scene so I stopped, calmed myself and walked home.

I hadn’t walked for five minutes when I noticed a white Toyota Corolla pull up in the area, about thirty meters ahead of me. Out walked Kellyne and this well-built man. I stopped and looked on, making sure though that I wasn’t seen. He opened the door and they went upstairs. The door locked behind them. I walked towards the door, listened against it and suddenly found myself stooping down at the base of the step. Tears streamed down my eyes.

            “I love Kellyne,” I whispered, “I love Kellyne.”