Thoughts of a minibus traveller

  Participants joined the domestic violence conversation on 27 May 2021 to discuss faith, spirituality and healing.  This conversation was held one year to the day since the first one on 28 May, 2020.  The conversation was led by Beverly Braithwaite-Chan and facilitated by Carlotta Boodie-Walcott.  These notes reflect some of the discussion and sharing which took place in the space. Some persons felt the space was safe enough to share their experiences - some for the first time.  There was time and energy given to work through the pain. One woman shared a poem she wrote to reflect on her own experience of surviving domestic violence. Faith is an action  word Beverly shared the following thoughts to catalyse the discussion "faith" is about connection to an external deity, and is aligned with doctrine, rituals, religion, scriptures  "spirituality' is about connection to the inner self, and to the universe. Spirituality does not need a personal god. "faith' is

  (This has been inspired by the image of a big man hugging up a bigger man allegedly at midnight on a moonlight night when they went fishing )   The phone rang and Baba P reached over and saw that it was Papa P calling. He watched the time and cursed.  What the hell he want now? Is 10pm. He was feeling nice and comfy in the matching pajamas that he liked to wear with his family.   All day he had been sitting in an air conditioned room wearing a heavy suit and watching faces on TV screens from other lands and listening to people from other lands who wanted to invest in the company he and PapaP were running, Gudyana.  Papa P had managed to find a way to take over the company and the shareholders. The condition was that Baba P had to become CEO.  Baba P did not mind.  There had been an attempt at a hostile takeover from some shareholders but that did not work out and now Papa P was working to make sure that no more take overs or so. At least  that is what Baba P thought. He could never b

 Beautiful flower with these dark red and white petals. Morning after the vase was put down, there is the pile of the red and white petals at the base of the vase. Nice soft, colours still bright. Like if the flower had exploded overnight and then left everything there to form a carpet for the vase. "Why you not brushing away the petals...?" the owner asks and I say as I spread them a bit more .. "I can't throw them away.. they still nice" I move them around and realise that I should have left them as they were. It is nice to feel the softness - I have not touched plants and flowers in a long time except to cook them. This beauty in the dead flower is on my mind as I try to go through the yoga routine, breathing and so.  A year after Covid has started, and I am grateful for privileges which mean I can dodge Covid but I could not dodge diabetes, depression and the pain which seems to move from one part of the body to another. No more sugar for mental wellness.. n

  Social distancing "Hey you.. we is nah frenz no more... " I hear the woman shouting and I keep walking as I don't know the woman. "Ow man, like you forget me or what.. "... I turn back. Covid time when death and sickness are high and I hardly talk to people now in 'real life'. Bright eyes and big smile, arms open like she wants to hug me. One hand has unlit cigarette, the other hand two plastic bags. Mask on her chin, not on her nose. Nice to see the big smile from the distance away.  "Why you passing me?" she speaks above the mask and through the big smile.. "Don't you remember me?"..  Mask can't hide my 'nah. .I don't know you' look. "Covid.. " I say.. "No man.. Covid make you forget me" she say and people passing and hearing us shout at each other fondly from seven feet apart.  I do not know the woman, I cannot remember her but my memory has been going recently anyway. If it was not for Cov