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Showing posts from December, 2016

Coil: Black, coolie, Guyanese in 2017

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by Vidyaratha Kissoon Minibus is playing loud chutney music – man want to be single fah evah. Bus is full of coolie people and on the front seat behind the driver there is a strategically poised wooden coffee table, and a rolled up red based Oriental Rug. Normal thing at Christmas time. Later the same day , a woman holds a big black bag with shopping and the man with her has one of the red based Oriental Rugs on his shoulder. Black man and black woman and I imagine the owners of the other rolled up similar rug in the minibus. Rolled up carpet. Fixing up House at Christmas. More than jubilee Independence, elections and the contrived Mashramani, the colonial Christmas is probably the closest we would get to any festival which is organically national. More black people and coolie people and other Guyanese probably have some Christmas in their  house than any national flag or other symbol of belonging to the Nation. In December 1997,...

The yoga of making juice from the soursop I was not going to buy...

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I saw the woman with the fruit basket on her head.. she had to get a hand to take it down it was so heavy.  I bought tangerine, bananas and the cut up pineapple in the plastic bag without wondering about the hygiene I remember as a child a woman with a rumal and then the round cloth to balance the heavy basket on her head. This woman wore a cap, not a rumal. She was cheerful. "1,000 for a soursop. It nice.. " They were wrapped in newspaper.  I don't know if she picked them half ripe. The only time I have used soursop is when I get it free.. and the man who brings it usually has it ripe almost on the verge of rotting and the skin is full of blight. These were green and shiny. I was in a hurry and said nah. I noticed a finger was missing from the woman's hand.. I did not want to ask how. She put back the basket on her head. She said 'Tek it for 800'. It was going to be a hectic day and dealing with a lot of dysfunction and chores. And so...

Emotional intelligence when doing professional work and when cleaning...

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There is one thing more beautiful than a clean shiny window which needs long sticks, flexible hands and body to clean it. It is the tiny raindrops which kind of glisten on the nice shiny window with everything looking and sparkling nicely. For about 15 minutes though.. because as the raindrops dry the little specks of dust which form the core of the beautiful And if you are managing depression, cleaning windows and walls which you know will be dirty again at some point in time. some sooner than others, will take longer. A man I did work with praised my emotional intelligence. I thought he was joking the first time, but he was serious . The assignment ran late and I was cursing  all the time I had planned to rest, and to recuperate and to clean and so got shorter. I am glad he did not hear the curses. It was not his fault really. He wrote "The emotional intelligence, commitment to work excellence and professional style you exhibited during those tough periods of this p...

Coil: Flowers on Main Street and ice cream to avoid scholarships and fear

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by Vidyaratha Kissoon There is a part of the Main Street Avenue between New Market Street and Middle Street which has small beds of flowers on the parapets, nice benches and small lights. It is the part of the Avenue with State House on the Eastern side and GPL on the western side. Ice cream was on my mind and I bought one from Crème Select., the fancy part of the Main Street Qik Serv. The Vat was $68.00. I thought of the flowers on Main Street and thought if I had a choice the VAT would go towards caring for the flowers I don’t have a choice though. The budget will pass in the democracy. The slightly reduced VAT will be paid on more items. I know some pensioners who are trying to stock up on medication to avoid the increased costs. I sat on a bench not far from the entrance to State House. The avenue was quiet. I had choke and rob on my mind I thought that if anything, I could run to State House. There are stately black rubbish bins, ...

Crashed mind, crashed body..

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Image from https://openclipart.org/detail/221538/frantic-man There is a short walk , a nice walk between the two places where I have to submit the deliverables. The first place, the stress had built up, the stress was underneath though piling up on other things and I didn't realise how bad it was. I submitted. I walked to the second place, Submitted and came out thinking that I could skip jump run and go and do other things like which I used to do years ago after high stress things like exams. I could not move. Back felt stiff. Body felt tight. Legs heavy. Mind also feeling exhausted as I contemplated the next set of chores. It was that kind of exhaustion which also prevented sleep from coming. I managed to move slowly to where I was going. I accessed sugar which was stupid because I know that I should try to stretch. I managed to move around.. go to places.. but all the time.. it was heavy. Fortunately there was a place with good music. It helped a bit. I tried g...

Yoga of 3 mango carcasses....

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Craving sweet and body feeling tight after acknowledgement of the last deliverable of work which was extended four months beyond the due date due to no fault of my own. Cream soda and milk serves part of the purpose but yearning for more. The first turpentine mango I pick up has a small hole with ants in it and I throw it back. But then I pick it up again and look closer and realise the mango is the biggest since the season started and the hole is small with a dark ring which indicates maybe the rot is starting. I smell the mango though and there is no rot and the faint whiff of turpentine mixed with the sweet scent of ripe orange string less flesh. I keep the mango and wash it out.. and then rub it and wonder oh shoots, was it in the flood water when the rain had fallen but then again, I had noticed it and didn't see it in the flood water. I slice off the hole, deep as I could and then think dark thoughts.. man gets sick from turpentine mango and then I think what the h...

Coil: Standing up for someone else’s human rights in Jubilee Guyana

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by Vidyaratha Kissoon “Who is de leader hey, is who organise dis… dey must have a leader..” the policeman asked of the protest on 9 December 2016 for justice for Courtney Crum-Ewing. The policeman not know who was Courtney Crum-Ewing . In October 2014 Kaieteur News revealed a recording in which the then Attorney General Anil Nandlall displayed his racism and sexism and his contempt for Guyanese generally. Kaieteur News said there was a threat to the publisher. Courtney Crum-Ewing stood alone for many days , protesting that ‘Anil Must Go’. Some people joined him. According to Sherlina Nagee r “The man was an inspiration. The hours he spent, in the sun, by himself, day after day – I knew how tough that could be. The curses, belittlement, and harassment from the passersby and the police; yes, it can wear down even the strongest soul. There is something powerful beyond measure in standing up for your rights though; a strength that comes from taking ...

Love in mango from the yard and pineapple from Canal

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The turpentine mangoes are falling one or two every day - the mangoes can only be eaten when they are ripe. Some days there are holes left back from birds and bats and the ants are in the holes I have washed out ants from the small holes to eat the rest of the mango, though most times I try to put the mango near the root of the tree and think.. well one mango for me, one for the Universe or the ants, rats or whatever else will eat them at the bottom of the tree. Love. Sharing. Woman said the pineapple is from Canal and I try smelling it and holding it to guess whether it would be sweet. I have a whole set of tips - it is the shape.. the variety, the sweeter pineapple have the scent, the colour.. be careful with green skin, be careful when the yellow got brown spots.. and there is a difference. Some variety called sugar loaf which is supposed to be eaten immediately as it will start to ferment.. and then others.. I have had green skinned pineapple that sweet sweet. There is th...

Dear cane juice..

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Dear cane juice... Thanks for the time to sip you and get over the strangest Wednesday in my life. Thanks for any nourishment you can provide to get through the morning after a sleepless night. I am staring at the received calls.. two hours apart.. two loved ones. One not married, one married. One way younger than me, one not so much younger than me. Both of whom as I talk to them I wanted to hug them and make them laugh. Dear Cane Juice.. I am happily single and I not looking for any relationship. I have to deal with my mental health issues.. Dear cane juice.. the almost midnight chat with the married loved one on the way home.. hanging up and wondering.. should i have made you laugh louder, your voice sounded tired and strained, did you tell me everything? I remember the one and only time when I was told I was crazy.. Should I have put on my counsellor hat.. like Shah Rukh Khan in Dear Zindagi and say.. let's go do something crazy like play kabbadi with the waves ...

Dear sleep...

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Dear sleep.. why have you evaded me the last few nights? I know stress is subtle and that even when things might seem on the surface to be good.. that something chases you away. I thought it was the security light from the neighbour which might be fooling my body into thinking it was sunrise and time to get up. I thought it was delayed caffeine but is not that, I thought it was food I ate late, but it was not that.. there is something about how the body needs those hours of complete unconsciousness so that the mind could appear to be refreshed. Eyes close at 9pm but are half open and cannot close again from 1am.. it is amazing the sounds in the night though.. lizards croaking. watchmen talking.. thieves probably talking.. trucks, cars far away.. cool down drinks man coming home with his freezer which sound full still and wondering if he sold .. but noise is louder than when he leaves in the afternoon. some other men arguing.. night voices carry further.  Exercise aint...

Coil: Loving Mr Granger while opposing the budget..

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by Vidyaratha Kissoon The first social media post I saw about the budget was from an ardent member of the PNC. She wanted to know how she will pay the GPL bills and where she will get money for the other increased prices. I have a feeling that it was instinctive because afterwards she resumed posting her ‘I love Mr Granger’ kind of posts and ‘Doan fughet ,PPP is worse’ posts. Nicole Cole is a Commissioner on the Women and Gender Equality Commission. She wrote a letter which was published the day after the budget She asked the same thing as my Facebook friend asked “How does the Finance Minister expect women to survive and care for these children with this 14% VAT imposition on water and light which will increase the cost of living?” 28 November 2011 was the day of the elections when the APNU and AFC parties started to make inroads on the PPP/c progress/oppression depending on who you voted for. It was a time that seemed that look, they could work together...

The yoga of yoga with white lavender and cherry juice..

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Body is in pain and work is to be done. The pain is from suppressed tears and anger . Another encounter and the reality of the reminder of why certain choices were made and that the detachment from expecting any results from doing those choices is very key. But the tears come though.. and they go just as quickly. The rage remains. Routine things are done mindlessly instead of mindfully as the mind wanders and the body keeps clenching instead of relaxing. Decision though.. space is available.. go.. try the surya namaskar. It is temporary, it is not the full one since at every bend the fat at the belly and the waist crunch up and there is more pain .. reminder that healthy living is a wholistic thing and not bits of this and that. Instead of crying or sitting still to let the pain go, see if stretching helps. Om Mitraya namah   White lavendar is supposed to be good for lifting the mood. Rub some on the palms and inhale deeply. The issue is not the vapour, bu...