alldaydoodler

The Great Train Run

2011-05-15T21:30:00.003-04:00

Sunrise at Three Houses

I lean against the car, stretching my legs. It's just after 6am and the sun's first glow is starting to show on the distant horizon in spectacular fashion. I'm at Three Houses, at the beginning of Stage 5 of the Great Train Run, waiting for the runners who have done the first half to arrive. It's the second year of the run, inspired by the Great Train Hike and run on the same day.

Every year the Barbados National Trust organises the Colin Hudson Great Train Hike. Started in 2003 the hike goes along the route of the long defunct Barbados railway. The Barbados railway traversed from Bridgetown to Belleplaine on the North east coast, some 26 miles. It began in 1881 and ran until 1937, when a lack of maintenance and falling demand led to its closure. No set of black and whites of old Barbados is complete without a picture or two of the railroad and it's stations.

Even in a island as flat as Barbados, building a railway was a challenge. It wound its way out of town through Welches, up through Salters, past the then major sugar factories at Bulkeley and Carrington out to Bushy Park and Three Houses where it began the downward slope to the East coast. If you look carefully, you can still see the route today on a map, crossing Barbados. Although all remnants of the actual metal tracks are long gone, tell tale cart roads across the southern section of Barbados clearly indicate the route.

Last year Ralf, No.1 FRB with the Hash House Harriers, avid runner and veteran of many marathons, thought he would run the route. A shade under a marathon length, it is a real cross country trek, mostly cart roads in the first half and then coastal paths and even a section of sea in the second. In true style, Ralf planned it down to a T, dividing it up into stages and putting down target times for each.

The sun is up and running by the time Lydia, Ralf's wife arrives with two friends - the support group. "They'll be here in 10 minutes!" she says. I do my final stretches, trying to warm up my still sleeping muscles. Ralf, accompanied by Andre Procope and Winston Mascoll of Ufukozu won't tarry long at this stop, just long enough for a quick drink, then we'll be on the way again. They arrive looking no worse for wear having done 22km of off-road trails. The second half is only 18km, but the trail will be even more challenging.

We head off towards Fortesque, a high plateau overlooking the rough east coast. The train route is fully obscured in this section, housing developments have taken care of that. The stony cart roads give way to knee high grass as we make our way parallel to the cliff face. Hard as it is, I can only imagine what it must be like for legs that have already done 22km.

Section of Consett Trail

At Fortesque we begin the descent through the Consett Cutting, a 'cut' through coral rock that enabled the train to get down to sea level and continue up the coast. The Cutting is a quiet, leaf covered trail, walls of coral alternate with sea grape, glimpses of the sea in-between. The Cutting was famous as the steepest section of track on the return route. There are stories of carriages breaking away down the slope and resulting deaths, of the train literally unable to make the grade - with the consequence of the third class passengers having to get off and push, watched by the second class passengers, who also got off, but were only required to walk alongside, while first class was never disturbed...

We get down to Consett bay, well-used by fishermen from the area, and with as many wrecked boats as they are seaworthy ones scattered around the hauling area. The trail north of Consett is now fully eroded, and the coastal land is impassable - so it's onto to the slippery rocks and into the sea we go, hoping our shoes we stay on as they suck up sand and grit. As we wend our way north, the coral foundations of railway bridges dot the route, many of them fallen into the sea, victims of land and sea erosion. These were impressive structures, and must have always been a nightmare for maintenance. On the sea side, lengths of train track stick up from the sand, jagged, rusty - the remnants of a rudimentary sea defence to hold off the rough east coast seas.

Coming up from Consett into Bath, the sun behind us.
Jagged remnants of the track stick up out of the sand.

We finally round the last headland and are in view of Bath, the end of stage 5. The support group is waiting with encouraging words as we scrunch along the beach, sand and water sloshing in our shoes, and a short run onto to the Bath Beach Facility where we have the opportunity to take them off and wash out the sand.

Entering Martins Bay

Moving on from Bath, we run past the Bath Waterfall and onto the coastal trail that will take us up to Martins Bay. Between sea erosion and uncontrolled land drainage, the path is considerably eroded since last year, leaving us to negotiate narrow strips of coral sloping steeply down to the sea. We run, ducking under tunnels through clumps of Screw pine (pandanus), the ground littered with slippery dry leaves, numerous streams and broken rail bridges and into Martins Bay. A quick stop for a drink and then back on the trail to Tent Bay and Bathsheba.

It's still early morning in Bathsheba, and the place is empty, save for a full house at St.Aidans Church. We head on to Joe's river, passing under the now derelict railway bridge below Edgewater Hotel, and on to the beach at Cattlewash. Here we rejoin the coast road which runs inland of the sand dunes for 5.2km up to the end of the route at Belleplaine.

The last lap up cattlewash, 5.2km of hot sun (2010)

This is the hardest section for sure, the sun by now well up and beating down on our backs, running into the wind. The long highway seems endless and even the scenic foothills under Chalky Mount fail to motivate. Eventually Barclay Park edges into view and then with it behind us, the final tramp into Belleplaine to the end of the line and a cold beer, well deserved.

And this is the route. Thanks to Ralf for the run and Lidia for the support. Running photos courtesy ufukuzo.com which also has more information about the run on its facebook page.

Misirlou, Misirlou, where next for you? (or how a traditional Greek song became one of the most played melodies in this August's soca crop)

2010-08-25T23:33:00.023-04:00

Listening to a popular soca tune from this year's Vincy Mas, Charge Up, by Skinny Fabulous, which crossed over into Barbados Cropover, we've all thought - that's familiar...And it was, we realised, because it was sampling the tune from the Black Eyed Peas song Pump It!

And then we heard a couple more similar tunes, one by Rupee - Get Crazy - and by Peter Ram - Ironman, all with that beguiling guitar riff that caught our attention in Pump It!

The story of that guitar riff begins in Greece in the 20's, the first known performance of Misirlou, a Greek song about an Egyptian girl, a slow melodious song which is eventually adopted by many other neighbouring nations. Some even come to consider it as one of their national songs. It is sung in Yiddish at Jewish weddings, and in the Arab world for belly dancers. Over the years it becomes a popular standard from Morocco to Iran.

In the 40's the song migrates to the USA, recorded as a jazz instrumental by a Greek American, Nick Roubanis, and then begins to spread in the USA, covered by several artists who mistakenly credit Roubanis as the composer.

In 1962, Dick Dale and the Deltones re-invent Misirlou -a song he heard his Lebanese American uncle play as a child. He creates a fast instrumental version, full of guitar and horns that transforms Misirlou into a rock standard of the era.

It is covered extensively in its many versions, used by Domino's Pizzas late 90's ad campaigns, and in the Athens Olympics in 2004. Pulp Fiction, Extreme Championship Wrestling, the French film Taxi, and Oceans Thirteen all used it in opening or closing credits. It is recorded by artists as diverse as Connie Francis, Woody Herman, the Red Elvises and Agent Orange. And by Gordon Ramsay in his show Kitchen Nightmares.

I think though that it is the Black Eyed Peas use of it in Pump It which really fixes the song in the western pysche. According to Wikipedia, Will.I.Am bought the CD with Dick Dale's Misirlou on it by mistake, heard the song, and composed the Black Eyed Peas version.

Fast forward to 2010, enter music producer Alex Kubiyashi Barnwell, who uses Misirlou to create a "Riddim". As a music novice, I'd describe a Riddim as an instrumental electronic drum track to which various lyrics and other musical tweaks can be added to create a song, individual to the lyrics, but with this common riddim. As a modern musical technique, it is apparently quite common to dancehall, and now becoming more so for soca.

But Kubiyashi didn't just produce a drum riddim, he loaded it up with Dick Dale's Misirlou, transforming it into a soca hurricane of a riddim, full of those familiar guitar riffs and horns sounds that have been around in our sub-conscious, since Pump It, since whenever....and he called it the Hunny Bunny Riddim.

And it sure was popular. Vincy Mas 2010 (St. Vincent Carnival in early July) had no less that 6 versions of this riddim, the most popular by far belonging to Skinny Fabulous - Charge Up -who went on to win the Soca Monarch title in St. Vincent & the Grenadines. The others; Fear None (Problem Child); Mad Outta Road (Uncle Sam); Get Wild (Ricardo Drue); Hyperactive (R3CKA); and Spranging (Demus).

In Barbados at this years Cropover: Peter Ram does Ironman; Rupee does Get Crazy; and Indrani does Faya Wata. And there is even a Beenie Man song - Wuk up Yuhself.

The great things about riddims is that DJs can string along several tunes in a row, it gives them plenty time to gab in between. The popular combination in Barbados was Ironman, Charge Up and Get Crazy, sometimes with Faya Wata in the mix as well.

I remember hearing these tunes individually, then strung together, wondering if they were the same piece or not. Then finally came the realisation that they were just part of one glorious riddim. Because as cookie cutter as the riddim process might seem, and although these tunes were good individually, together, they really caught fire!

And that is the story of how a traditional Greek song became the most popular melody in this year's crop of soca tunes...

A Grenada Shortknee in Barbados Kadooment

2010-08-08T08:58:00.002-04:00

Carnival should never pass by without some kind of masquerade, and Barbados' Kadooment Day, the culmination of its Cropover festival, is their main mas day. I'm not a player per se, and I especially avoid the bikini and bead extravaganzas that now pass for mas. Last year we made a stand with Am-Bush but with Baby V on the way, this year was more subdued...

The Kadooment parade is on the first Monday in August, and starts at about 8 am. Varia thought we could could go as tourists, and then on Monday morning, we remembered my Shortknee costume, graciously donated by Hambone, Captain of the Grand Roy Shortknee band, last year when I was in Grenada (read about that here).

A full-on Shortknee costume is not for the fainthearted. Yards and yards of cloth, a face mask and head cover make it a hot affair. As I went in search of the pieces, Varia suggested I only wear part of it, but for me that was never an option - it seemed that for this traditional costume, it was all or nothing. Not to say that I wasn't somehow wondering how a Shortknee might fare in the Kadooment crush...

So I persevered, with little time to plan. My blog entry from last year with the pictures of Hambone in his costume were carefully studied - it needed to be as authentic as possible. An ageing towel was converted to headgear; a torn bit of tunic was quickly mended with needle and thread; the elastic waist, leg and sleeve ends were loosened (Hambone was a lot more skinny than me); a container of baby powder was 'borrowed' from a gift from Baby V's shower. I fell short in two areas - I had no white sneakers, and Varia drew the line on the tights (and I couldn't find the 2 pairs Hambone had given to me).

So that's us above, three tourists and a Shortknee from Grenada in Barbados Kadooment. We parked halfway along the route and Lili, I and Morgane (a Martiniquan exchange student who was staying with us) walked the mile or so back to the judging point, leaving Varia at base. Whenever we encountered a band, we made the most of the music; Shortknee don't chip or wine; they run, stamping their feet to make the ankle bells jingle and they chant.

I did my best, conscious of some code to respect the costume and to play it right. The costume is entirely anonymous, so that even people who knew me well only recognised me because of Lili's presence. I did mini performances for the crowds at the main intersections, stamping and prancing on one leg, baby powder flying into the air from the container in my hand. Children were fascinated by the sight, many of the younger ones shrinking back in fear at the sight of the mask; one mother invited me to come frighten her son, a toddler, "come take this one" she shouted, I declined.

Several persons asked about the costume, Barbados doesn't have traditional mas, and a fully masked individual was a unique sight to many. Several women (and some very young girls) invited me to 'go dung'; my explanation that Shortknee didn't wine down left most unimpressed.

As it is these days, there were hundreds of cameras. Here we are above, captured by a photographer from Barbados' main newspaper, the Nation. When we eventually joined Varia back at base at the Waddada bar in Bank Hall, I disrobed and put the costume away. A shortknee should never be seen just hanging around...I think Hambone would have approved.

The Party Continues

2010-07-30T11:20:00.002-04:00

Clips from the 2nd half of Headliners Tent final session at the Plantation Garden Theatre, 22 July, 2010. Although several of the performers are from other tents, many of them started with headliners. It's called a "Fent" because it was supposed to e a tent fete...it was a great night.

Can't take the party for granted

2010-07-22T08:17:00.000-04:00

While all night parties and breakfast fetes proliferate in Caribbean carnivals, Grenada struggles with this 'new' phenomenon. Most Grenadians would regard the local carnival as relatively rule free, so this is an interesting development, to say the least.

Certainly in Barbados, there seems to be no restriction on noise levels in residential areas for these types of fetes, but perhaps it has to do with the income levels of the residential areas...?

The 2 Grandmothers

2010-07-05T23:32:00.000-04:00

Mustardseed Productions' Youth Theatre 2/ Saturday Group presents their end of year production of The 2 Grandmothers. Performed on July 1, 2010. Directed by Ayesha O Gibson.

Rainy Day Sunday

2010-05-19T19:35:00.000-04:00

A rainy Sunday morning: I was driving through Fontenoy and saw two rainbows out to sea, the second one is just to the left...

Incongruities

2010-05-15T23:50:00.000-04:00

On a recent visit to Grenada...

An excavator drives past a lady suntanning on Grand Anse Beach...

A stray dog pees against the post upon which is nailed a strict admonishment

The eye of the beholder

2010-05-15T23:35:00.000-04:00

Bromeliads are strange things. Most bromeliads are epiphytic, that is they absorb nutrients through their leaves, by collecting water and other debris in their cups. They latch onto stones or branches and need no contact with earth. In the Caribbean a common bromeliad we call wild pine (pineapple is a bromeliad) lives in mahogany and other trees and provides a great nesting place for various bugs and cockroaches. Often the leaves can be quite colourful, depending on exposure to sunlight. They all flower, but some of the flowers are so small you'd never notice them.

Nature works in wonderful ways, and even the biggest skeptics among us can be surprised every now and then. A clump of bromeliads in the garden had grown neglected for over a year, covered by other plants. This type of bromeliad in particular has wide bright green leaves but nothing else special, apparently. The leaves though had been ravaged by slugs and snails, it was a sad sight. One day , with the rains arriving, I decided to clean them up in one of these 'I'm working in the garden today' days...

Within a week a flower was shooting out of one of the plants

This is the flower after about 4 days

A close up shows the florets pushing out of their sheathes. The sheathes are covered in some kind of soft white 'fur'...

After a couple more days the flower is pretty mature and the little purple tipped florets are now spreading out and unfolding.

Pretty much in full Bloom and quite a beautiful sight. Each stalk will produce its own little miniature yellow and purple flower

Here you can see how the sheathes have curled back like petals.

Still Giving

2010-04-21T07:49:00.004-04:00

When I met and wrote about local Barbadian legend, Cassius Clay, late last year (click here for that article), he swore he was not doing any more free shows. His last free show at Accra Beach in November was poorly attended and he felt unappreciated.

But a new year has a way of putting a fresh face on things, so when I saw him after Christmas, he was all into his plans for a Valentine’s Day concert – another free concert. I met him outside the Main Guard, on the Garrison. He was, ironically, dropping off equipment for a show he was doing with the EGGS band for Veterans. His van was full of large speakers, keyboards, drums and other assorted instruments. He was taking them out of the van and bringing them into the venue – on his own. I offered a hand, the stuff was heavy, although the bigger speakers had wheels.

The Valentine’s concert was all about giving back he said, wanting to thank the people who helped him with his annual Christmas party for children, and to thank Bajans for coming to the aid of Haiti in their crisis. He also just wanted to entertain his friends.

I used the opportunity to ask him about the hit song he is best known for, “Sweeter Than a Sno-Cone”, and about Dragon Spouge, a spouge beat which he is credited with. Without wanting to seem too inquisitive, I also wanted to know – how does a man who does not know how to read or write, get his music recorded? “I give the lyrics to Emile Straker (one of the Merrymen and a friend of Cassius’) and he wrote it down for me. He and a few others backed me up for the recording”, he says. And Dragon spouge? “It had it’s own beat”, he says, “and there was a popular movie at that time called Enter the Dragon – you remember it?” I do. Click on the flash player on the right to listen to Sno-Cone for some echoes of that 1973 film.

He wanted to do a personal invitation for the Valentine's show to hand out to friends, so I offered to run up some simple invitations for him on the computer. Grabbing a pen and a piece of paper, I marvelled as he sat on the edge of his van and recited what he wanted me to write on the invitation, in one fluid attempt, without any hesitation or pauses.

Local Rag "Heat" carried an article on the show

By any measure, the show was a great success. Cassius and EGGS had a wide repertoire of new and old hits ranging from Ray Charles to John Legend, the theme being togetherness and love. Cassius showed his talent as a consummate performer, weaving a story line in between the songs as a lead in to each, and punctuating the act with some quite funny jokes. In the middle of the show, a guy comes on to ask Cassius to play for his love of 15 years (the detail is murky), Cassius handles him masterfully, never getting flustered, and the crowd loves it.

My video unfortunately does not do justice to the show, neither in terms of lighting or sound, but it does give you a taste of it. Although my video sound recording is poor, the sound quality right through the show was very good, provided by Cassius’ own mixing equipment, with a friend to operate it. For me, the highlight of the show was Cassius getting down on his knees, and then lying down on the stage, all the while singing. As he lies onstage, balancing using his right arm, he discreetly shifts the mic into his right hand so that he can gesture with his left, I thought it was masterful.

Poster for upcoming show

Cassius is now preparing for another show, this time at the Plantation Garden Theatre on Sunday 2nd May. This show is not free, he has had to pay for the space and he hopes also to be able to pay the performers, as for himself, he is philosophical about whether he will get anything personally from it. He's just come from the senior games (an over 50s athletics meet)last weekend, and gave away several tickets to the medallists.

At $25 a ticket, it is sure to be value for money (I have tickets for anyone who might be interested).

Raining Down

2010-04-16T23:17:00.000-04:00

In the space of a week how things can change. This time the serious dry season really seems to have been broken in Barbados, with heavy showers over the past 2 weeks. The plants have taken their cue from this change, none more so than the Mahogany trees encircling Spice of Life.

All of a sudden the mahogany leaves and pods have begun to fall like rain. Every gust of wind brings hundreds of leaves down, you can hear them pattering onto the galvanised roof, they enter the house through any open space and spread throughout the rooms.

The leaves collect in sheltered spaces, like outside the laundry door...

Some trees are bare already, with only the empty pods on show, others have already sprouted new leaves.

The seeds pods lie on the ground, some still unbroken.

The seeds themselves are a master of nature's engineering, designed to drift far, they rotate in the breeze supported by long 'wings'. As a child we would throw bunches up into the air to see them 'helicopter' down...

All this in a week.

On a Less Serious Note

2010-03-01T22:13:00.000-04:00

This year's Agrofest, the annual agricultural fair in Barbados saw a bigger than ever show. Armed with my camera, I discovered that the sheep and goats were by far the most willing subjects, and quite entertaining. They posed with self confidence, albeit some embarrassment about their captive situation, corralled into small pens. Some got on with it, other were less happy, refusing to entertain the crowds of eager children and adults forever trying to feed them dry grass.

Okay, so I overdid it again.....

Is your Child Leading a Second Life?

2010-02-05T07:31:00.000-04:00

Last October I posted Under Your Very Nose about email hacking and sexual predation. I promised a follow up post and here it is, all about teenagers and wannabe teenagers and their use of the net.....

Most of us parents with young teenagers know the attraction of the internet and its various sites for our children. We talk generally, often wonderingly, about the knowledge they have, laugh about the weird shorthand language they use, worry about the increasing amounts of time spent on the computer.

Few of us however really know what our children are doing on those computers. We naively hope that it’s relatively harmless, scan the screen every now and then, hope that keeping the computer in an open location will deter too much adventurism. It’s the Caribbean after all, how much harm can they come to, and when your child is over at a friend’s house - maybe the other parents are doing a better job, so you can relax a bit.

It’s a sort of nagging background worry, isn’t it? I've been following my daughter and her facebook "friends" interactions on the internet, and while I thought I was pretty in the 'know', I wasn't...

Let’s start with FaceBook – fb – apparently used most by the 25 – 40 age group, but of course fb is not checking that most kids are using fake ages. The minimum age is 13, so any child going on before 13 is using any arbitrary year for their birth date.

Fact is, many children from 10 years old are on fb, pretending to be older. Their status updates have none of the pseudo-existentialist quality you get from us adults. They aren’t there yet, so to sound interesting and to shock, they paste in stuff from somewhere else. “Somewhere else” is just about every website these days, where with a click of your mouse, whatever you’re reading can be posted on fb as a status or a link. Kids use it to post fml posts.

Fml? “F--- my life” (the f-word is left up to your imagination), and most of you reading this have probably never heard of it. You post your loser story to the site, if it’s found interesting enough, it gets posted. People now vote either to sympathise with you or that you deserve it. Naturally there is every incentive to exaggerate or just plain lie to see if you can get posted on the site. Kids find the stories hilarious, and some of them are very sexual. Here are some examples from fml posted by my daughter's fb 'friends', none of them older than 14:

“Today, the subway was extremely crowded and I ended up with my butt in a man's crotch. I kept trying to inch away or turn a different way, but there was no room. He could have turned to face the doors, but didn't. He got an erection. I was there for 20 minutes.” FML

“Today, my boyfriend told me he couldn't hang out with me because he felt really sick. I went to his house anyway to surprise him with homemade soup. I walk in to his room only to find him hooking up with my sister. She can't drive, our mom drove her there." FML

Another popular pastime is posting lyrics from songs, the more shocking, the more amusing. Here are some used by these same friends, they are from Lil Wayne, a popular source:

Get between your legs and eat it like its candy, mmmmmm im thinking jolly rancher girl i want you to be ma private dancer, answer this question for me is it wrong that im always horny lil mamaaaa. [8] :)

Press a button, watch the m*****f***er do tricks, I don't know what you are on, but I'm on some new s****. While your b**** is on my d***, like a glue stick. I got a grill, I don't have to get my tooth fixed.

Even besides all of this, there's lots of inappropriate content from children on fb, including obvious stuff like their profile pics and the absence of sensible privacy controls make it open to all and sundry.

Over to Second Life, the simulated life community. Second Life to kids seems a familiar place, because it is a bit like the Sims, a popular computer game. In the Sims, you create whole families using Avatars (computer generated human representations), and the computer generates the community. On Second Life, the online community is “real” and the Avatars represent real persons. SL lets you be whoever you want to be and to do whatever you want to do, trade goods,develop property, shoot randomly at people, have sex any which way, it’s all there, sexual predators and all. Sexual age play (adults with child avatars to make it more exciting) is not uncommon. There’s also Gorean – an openly misogynistic culture of male dominance and female submission, with a very heavy reliance upon violence and violent sexuality.

As a lark, my daughter and a friend recently registered on SL. It is a lark because they cannot figure out why adults would want to play make-believe games.

She has to register as an adult, because it is an adult space, but using actual email details. As Wendi Salubria, a black avatar (you get to pick your style, sex, and features), she approaches a group of avatars “HIYA FOLKS!”, and makes a few silly remarks (this is known as ‘griefing’). She types in bold letters, basically just to annoy them. The group variously tell her to go away/ stop shouting and learn to type/spell. She then jokingly says to them “You don’t like me because I’m black”. This triggers several of the avatars in the group hitting the ‘abuse’ button, which reports Wendi Salubria as breaking the rules.

As Wendi grows bored and leaves the scene, one of the group comes with her…”wait for me, I’ll be your friend” 'it' says. The adults on SL are very good at spotting kids...

Linden Labs (creators of SL) receives the reports and email “Wendi”, advising her of her contravention of the site policies and suspending her account.

SL is full of kids pretending to be adults, and they’re often, worryingly, easy to spot. On SL chat rooms it is not hard to find adults discussing what to do with all the ‘kids’ wandering round in SL, some innocently, some with purpose. One guy complained of finding two apparently adult avatars trespassing on his land, but as soon as they spoke, it was quite clear they were kids.

Note: SL has a teen version, but it requires parental permission, many kids are not even aware it exists….Things are apparently changing at SL, where they’re strengthening the boundaries between adults and teenagers.

Young "teenagers", which is the age group I’m mostly referring to here, the 10 – 14 year olds, don’t get the openness of the internet, that it is a real place with real people, and actions there have consequences too. These kids practice some kind of disassociation when they use fb and other social forums, because they are no apparent consequences, no-one is reining them in. Parents least of all.

So, is your child leading a Second Life?

It's a Running Thing

2010-01-24T21:30:00.005-04:00

Monday 23 November,2009

I grimace as I walk down the stairs at home backwards, my gwatjanms (aka ‘calves’) too stiff to permit anything else. This is the aftermath of the Grenada half marathon which I 'ran' yesterday (Sunday), in Grenada.

I hadn’t run that distance since the Barbados half marathon this time last year, so a sensible strategy would have been to say no to Marilyn when she called from Grenada a couple weeks ago to say: “Come on Vaughn, Ali‘s going to do it, and Keito too, we’re just doing it for fun”. What the hell I thought, why not, I mean how bad could it be?

My last half marathon run in Barbados happened in much the same way, Marilyn coaxing me into it, even though I hadn’t been training for it. Memories fade with time. “Yeah, all right, I’ll do it. What’s the route?” I ask. “St David’s Police Station to town” answers Mal.

In Grenada, there’s some flat ground, but that’s not where they choose to set the run. No, they climb 500ft to the top of St David’s Parish for the start, run down to sea level at La Sagesse, back up to 200 feet, back down to sea level, up to the top of another hill (200 feet) and back down to sea level again at Bailles Bacolet, up to Red Gate (220 feet) and back down to sea level, then up to Westerhall, etc, etc, etc., you get the picture.

In contrast, Barbados’ half marathon route takes you up a gentle incline to the top of Spring Garden highway to an altitude of 100 feet. The next incline is the long and even more gentle climb from Fitts Village past Appleby Gardens up to 50 feet.

On the way to the race I ask Mal “why is there a 23km marking on the road in town?” “That’s the end of the race, silly, well, a little way beyond that.” She says. But, I splutter, a half marathon is only about 21 km long (21.0975 to be exact). Well, she says rather unconcernedly, that’s the route we always do, so maybe its 24 km....this is Grenada you know. That’s when I should have wised up.

We arrive at the start. It’s a road junction in St.David’s, outside a rum shop, close to the Police Station. It’s 2.30pm on a hot Sunday afternoon. Of the 50/60 or so runners, most are teenagers, girls actually. Several of them are not wearing shoes, although several have on socks. Socks? There seems to be only a handful of adults. (click on picture to enlarge)

With no Porta-loos, last pees have to be found in the surrounding bushes, men and women alike. And as with most things in Grenada, we start with a prayer, pausing midway to let a car through...

The whistle blows and the kids pelt off down the hill in the 3 pm heat. As we ease down the hill, I’m feeling good, good to be running a race in Grenada for the first time. Looking forward to the scenic route.

Downhills are deceptive; you need to keep tension on your muscles to prevent over speeding and damage. The first downhill is almost 2 km all on its own, and then the first climb back up to 200 feet begins. But I’m still feeling good, only the slightest tightness in my gwatjanms hints at what’s to come.

At first I run with my cousin Ali, but it isn’t his day. A late night, too many rum punches and dehydration, gets the better of him. After about 10 kms and as the halfway mark approaches, I continue on alone. I had been depending on him to pull me through, now I was alone. A mere kilometre or so later, with the worst of the hills behind me, my gwatjanms tighten perceptibly, even as my breathing is relaxed. The demons descend. They’re pretty clever, these demons. They come up with all these seemingly sensible inducements to just stop: Hey! look at that bush – jump behind it and hide, quick, no-one will see!; come on…! who needs to finish a race anyway; give up now you fool, you know it’s a lost cause; you’re gonna DIE if you continue!; too tired, too tired, too tired…

And so, with the hardest part of the run behind me, past the halfway mark, and on a slight downhill, I just stop running. And walk. It beats all logic, but it’s no stranger. In any race, you face it sooner or later. Here it is, this time sooner. The hills had tightened my legs up enough to convince me I couldn’t run a step further.

And so it goes through Woodlands, Grand Anse Valley and towards town, running and walking, but with every cycle my running pace slows and shortens and the walking carries for longer, and the finish line seems a world away.

That’s when I meet Doneisha. 13 years old and like most of the kids in the race, has never done anything like this before. I come upon her at about 15km, with all the hills behind and an easy road into town. She too is walking along, looking tired and dejected. I take her under my wings. Come on, I say, keep going. And my instinct to help her do her best forces me to rise above my petty misery and I have to run too. We run and walk alternately into town, Doneisha runs when I run, and walks when I walk.

These next kilometres are the longest and just after the 21km marker (the correct distance) I pause my stopwatch and stop running. Doneisha, I say, you have just completed a half marathon in 2hours and 15 minutes, congratulations. You can continue on into town, which is an extra 2 or so km, but remember this time, it’s yours.

As Doneisha continues on, I wait for Ali. Mal comes by in a few minutes and says he is somewhere behind. In a few more minutes he arrives. You can stop now, I say to him, we’re done, let’s go have a beer. And we do.

In the post mortem at Sunnyside later that evening, we analyse the disaster of this half marathon. Ali, as suspected, was dehydrated, and running in tropical heat for the first time did the rest (he ran the first half of the NY marathon in 1:50 after all, he’s no slouch). My excuse? (after all, my last half I did in 1:46), well, according to a friend, it take 6 months to train for hills. So there. My cousin Keito, meanwhile was in first in his age group, despite also not having trained for the run. His strategy? Pace walk up the hills, and run down. I remember last seeing him halfway along the route, moving inexorably away….

Thanks to Beverley for the photographs, I handed her my camera and she tooks some greats pics, which can be viewed here...

The Incomparable Marisa

2010-01-21T12:17:00.004-04:00

We're just lucky in Barbados that Marisa Lindsay isn't rich and famous and jetting all over the world for big bucks - not yet anyway. Because she isn't, we get to hear and see her fairly often - which still isn't enough. Every Christmas, she performs at Carols By Candlelight and a few years ago we had the delight of hearing her open for Jill Scott at the Sir Garfield Sobers Gymnasium - that's when we had to get the album - Submit to Love (btw both her albums were produced by Grenadian Eddie Bullen, who grew up just round the corner from us in St. Paul's, Grenada).

With a voice and a personality to go with it she is truly amazing to hear and to watch. Our most recent opportunity, came last Sunday at the Barbados Jazz festival, at Farley Hill national park. She was a featured artiste but to my deep disappointment she only sang what seemed like 3 songs (no doubt due to some poor planning by the organisers).

Despite not having a press pass to get me up close, I found an unoccupied platform set up for a video cam which gave me the perfect vantage point. Anywhere else than Barbados of course it would have been full of people already, but that's another story.

Following the news in Haiti

2010-01-14T09:44:00.001-04:00

Go here for good sources on news on Haiti;

Following the news in Haiti

Giving it all

2010-01-13T14:23:00.000-04:00

Last night at Heritage Park, Toni Norville gave it all in a sensational performance. Back from an extended break on the stage, she took off her shoes and made the audience smile, laugh and cry. The band was top class as well.

If the performance didn't make your spine tingle, then maybe you don't have one. A highlight of the Jazz festival and more evidence of the variety of world class talent in Barbados.

Ramier Refuge

2010-01-07T13:17:00.000-04:00

With the dry season fully upon on us here in Barbados, the Ramiers are looking for water and food. They get water in the cups of these Bromeliads and also eat the Bromeliad flowers. Officially known as the Scaly-naped Pigeon (Patagioenas squamosa) the yellow band under the eye shows that these are females. They're commonly known as Wilies(?) in Barbados, but as Ramier in Grenada and St. Lucia which is probably a french derived name.

These Pigeons made good eating and were hunted extensively in Grenada. We have dozens of them nesting in the Mahogany trees around the house, but I haven't tried them out in a pot yet...

Happy New Year

2010-01-01T14:30:00.001-04:00

Here are my four favourite fireworks pictures from this New Year's. All taken from a distance of about 2 km, so they are all heavily cropped. Handheld, f5.6, circa 1/20s, ISO 3200. Who knew there was so much smoke with the fire...we can only guess as to the effect on air quality...

Cassius - Fighter, for Life

2009-12-09T21:14:00.005-04:00

“I think that is the last free show I doing”, says Cassius, as I help him load gym equipment into his van. “I never charge for a show yet, but I feel I will have to. I can’t put out all that for nothing”. The ‘nothing’ he was reflecting on was the poor attendance at his free show, held a few Sundays ago at the Accra car park. In addition to the Eggs band, with which he sings, there was an eclectic set of performances. Lolita, the limbo dancer and Cassius himself in full fire eating mode, as well as assorted other acts. Although I wasn’t clear on how many persons attended the show he was clearly dissatisfied with the turnout, “I put a big light in the middle of the car park but everyone stayed at the edges – that was a mistake”, he observes.

We were at the Garrison, horse racing venue and Barbados’ popular walking, riding and running spot, where Cassius had assembled a hodgepodge of gym equipment under the betting shed. Every weekday afternoon, random persons would collect to use the impromptu gym, provided by Cassius as a public service, really. “I just bring them along for the diabetes people”, he says,” but just a little drizzle and they don’t turn up”. Today is a bit cloudy and when I turn up to do my regular run from the betting shed, they are only two or three people on the machines. Several months ago, when Cassius first begun this most recent of his philanthropic ventures, he would bring one or two machines, a stationery cycle, a bench, some dumbbells. As I helped him load up his van today I counted the equipment, 3 stationary bikes, two Abdominal machines, four assorted benches, and a variety of weights. Cassius loads them into his van every day and treks down to the Garrison, unloads and sets them up, then after the sun goes down, and everyone leaves, he loads them back in his van. Magically they all fit.

Cassius’ story starts a long time ago, in the forties, where as a wharf boy he skulled school and was basically put out of the house for giving his mother too much trouble. Living with the other wharf boys he slept in the open, scrounged for food and dived for pennies. A stint in the Boys’ Reformatory (Dodd’s) and a chance interaction with a caring teacher redirected his life, and he came out of Dodd’s looking to make something of himself. First he tried his hand as a seaman on inter-island schooners. He also knew that he was a decent boxer (he first fought at 7), and became immersed in the world of boxing, cutting a swathe through his often older opponents. That was when he came to be called Cassius Clay. He went on to win most major local titles and when his obvious talent was noticed by a Canadian promoter, he went to Canada to play in that country. This didn’t work as planned, although he was very successful, since the sport was languishing there and purses were small. He returned to Barbados a few years later having made something of a name for himself in the community of Hull where he lived, and also picked up some skills as an entertainer.

Back in Bim, he continued to box, but as the sport atrophied and the crowds dwindled, the take from each match continued to be embarrassingly low, making it difficult for any boxer to justify the training and dedication necessary to stay in the ring. He then concentrated on his entertaining, becoming a ‘fire eater’, and perhaps the only man ever to balance a full size wheelbarrow on his teeth (try it, you’ll see how difficult it is), and his son on the top of a step ladder. He could also balance glasses on trays on glasses on trays on a broomstick, walk a tightrope while doing other things, walk on broken glass and jump through a ring of knives. He also formed a band (and played with several). He is credited with originating a type of Spouge – Dragon Spouge – Barbados’ indigenous 60’s beat and even had a hit song “Sweeter Than a Sno-cone” which was very popular in Barbados and the Eastern Caribbean (click opposite to play). He took up painting and mounted a full exhibition at the Grand Salle in the Barbados Central Bank. In later years, to supplement his entertaining, he became a tour guide, driving tourists around in a pseudo safari tour of the country, where he would entertain them with the wheelbarrow trick. But there is less interest these days in fire eating, and the take from these activities does not go very far, never did.

From the time of his return from Canada, Cassius has pursued various charitable pursuits. He just says he want to help the youth. So he formed a roller hockey league, put together a team, and for a while it flourished. And a tackle football league. And formed a highly successful girls cricket team which toured as far as Canada. He organised various community activities. ‘His’ band, Eggs, was formed about five years ago when his son expressed an interest in playing drums. A neighbourhood girl asked if she could play too. One thing led to another and out of Cassius’ pocket came funds for two drums, keyboards, guitars. His son is a bit older now, but the drummer is twelve, others are thirteen, fifteen, “the bass player is 18, but he gone off to come back”, he says, enigmatically. Cassius is the lead singer. They perform at various venues, often for free, including the annual ‘Carols by Candlelight’, the charity do held in the grounds of the Prime Minister’s residence every year just before Christmas.

At the Garrison recently I saw him in the middle of the field with some kids, playing cricket. He was hoping to develop a regular cricket activity there for the kids in the area. Another day found him pulling the heavy metal and concrete roller over the pitch to flatten it, a physical feat that would normally take two average men to accomplish. But his back and his knees give him trouble, he says. He’s put on too much weight and is diabetic (a condition which almost killed him a year ago), which is what sent him to the garrison in the first place, and then noticing the other overweight people, decided on the fly to set up his itinerant gym, for free….

He showed me his boxing scrapbook the other day, an impresssive 30 inch x 20 inch handmade ‘book’, the covers made of some hard board, the edges stitched together with twine. Inside, the story of his early life in pictures, newspaper clippings, some photographs from Canada and many, many thank you letters from various organisations to which he has given his time and talents. The scrapbook shows how his fascinating story has caught the public eye for a moment, before receding again. They tell the story of a fighter (for life).

He never did learn to read or write. I asked him about this, and he shrugs, “too late, you know, a foreign lady had offered to teach, but …” I assure him in the security of my intellectual comfort zone, that it isn’t, it can’t be.

Getting back to the matter at hand, I discuss with him possible alternatives for the next show. You need to charge something, I say, even if you give it to charity, and advertise it, perhaps find a radio station to partner with you. And sell tickets in advance. “That is not for me”, he says, “I will have to find somebody to do that. I’m an entertainer, that is not my skills. Rihanna don’t organise her own shows, she have somebody to do that”. “ I just want a regular job” he says wistfully, as I admire the way he has managed to fit ten pieces of gym equipment plus assorted paraphernalia into his modest van. “The tour driving is long hours, I don’t even get home until well after dark. If I had a job as a security in a building, finish by 4.30, that would be good.”

It seems a modest goal for someone as talented and resourceful as Cassius, but as always, he has only his own resourcefulness to fall back on. And so he struggles on a daily basis to make a living in a world where his talent is undervalued, and his charity over-used.

Born Winston Yearwood in 1945, Cassius’ story is well told in “Cassius, from Wharf Boy to Role Model - The Life and Times of an Extraordinary Barbadian”, by Keith A P Sandiford, and from which I have borrowed the black & white photographs featured above. Cassius sold me a copy the first day I met him, “the money goes to charity” he said. In 2001 he was given the Barbados Centennial Honour in recognition of his achievements and contributions to society and more recently, an O.B.E. – Order of the British Empire. Cassius can be found around the Garrison most afternoons or reached on 420 2567 for bookings or to purchase his biography.

Le Weekend - Scene IV - Chimborazo Jam Session

2009-12-04T16:32:00.004-04:00

Okay so this is my final entry for Le Weekend. It could be called the fringe event weekend really. None of these events were advertised, you had to know someone, or be on facebook or some such. Or be married to Varia. Not that everyone wasn't welcome, but you had to want to be there.

So here we are on Sunday night at Boo Husbands' rum shop in Chimborazo. Boo is a master musician, able to play anything that needs to be blown, including just about every recorder (he has an amazing collection). The objective of the session is just to jam. Pickled green fig and breadfruit is provided (as are drinks), but the real fare is the music. Several of Barbados' top musicians are there, in no particular order: Eyan, Nicholas Brancker, Mike Sealy, and of course, Boo himself. David Pilgrim is visiting from NY, as is songstress Ledawn who rocks some of our favourite standards.

Boo's shop is about as high as you can get in Bim - Chimborazo, a hidden away village up in the hills with beautiful views of the East coast, and constant breeze. Interestingly there is a surprisingly diverse collection rums on the shelf....

Eyan loses himself in the music

I don't know this guy's name, but he is a wicked drummer

Mike Sealy, veteran musician, played some amazing music, all the while looking like he was taking a Sunday stroll...

These two wait their turn to play, on the left, a budding young trombonist, on the right, pannist Mistral Baldeo

Boo supports this young talent (Ledawn's son) in a piece he composed himself (the child, that is).

(Click here for more pictures)

Le Weekend - Scene III - Ad Lib Improv Session

2009-12-03T22:10:00.002-04:00

Scene III - Braddie's Bar, St. Lawrence Gap. The action - the Ad Lib improv session, put on by Dy Browne and Nala. It's a night of improvisation, some using scenarios provided by the audience. It's musically themed tonight, so all improv must be done to music.

Braddie's bar against the night sky. Sponsored by banks, I guess....

The crowd - a motley crew of artists and friends. It's a Saturday in Bim, so lots of alternative events on, fringe and mainstream....

Dy and Nala doing Oh Shite, Oh Shite, Oh Shite..

An interpretation of Chris Brown and Rihanna's troubles done to the tune of John King and Alison Hinds' "Hold you in a song"

Improv scenario - a touching moment, as a father says goodbye to his son...

...all done to "Bohemian Rhapsody"

Scenario - mother tries to interest son in a woman. Here Varia sings the praises of this woman to the tune of ???

I just liked this picture

(Click here for more pictures)

Le Weekend - Scene II - Treasure hunt

2009-12-01T17:12:00.001-04:00

Still on my Independence Weekend theme (in which no-one is interested), Sunday afternoon Varia and I accompany Khevyn and his friend Vanya on a 'treasure hunt'. Armed with a set of clues, and a list of things to collect, we set off on a 2.5 hour trek across Barbados.

I had contemplated a leisurely drive cross country, with some equally leisurely stops. It turns out to be a nail-biting experience as we dash madly here and there, stopping only to take pictures of resolved clues (locations) and to collect odd bits of stuff like an old coke bottle, a Merrymen LP, (neither of which we find, but spend many phone calls trying to locate), conch shell, hibiscus flower, cane stalk, shak-shak and a paper dollar bill (these we do).

The drivers receive the briefing and the clues. Khevyn is in the grass skirt. Unlike any other team, we have a theme - the Carib Warriors. Varia is Big Hair, Khevyn is Broken Sword, I am Chief Red Skin (visiting from the nearby island of Camerhogne) and Vanya is...I've forgotten.

An early resolved clue, the hitherto unknown (to me anyway) Bush Bar, 'acknowledged "swine meat" provider located off the main cropover route... '

'Stopped at Cropover, I used to grind, now brought back into service' - what else but Bulkeley Sugar Factory, now used as a transfer station. Yes, this is a posed shot.

Vanya poses to provide evidence of our arrival at the Concorde 'Experience'.

We are also tasked to bring back a photograph of a team member with a Royal Barbados Police Force officer. We find a 'not too unwilling' candidate at District B Police station.

In the end, our 'tour' takes us to the Drive-In, the airport, the Crane, Lemon Arbor, Lion Castle, Rock Hall, the Cubana monument, the 3 Ws monument, the Grantley Adams statue; George Washington House and St George parish church; we never got to St Lucy Parish church and Morgan Lewis...

We lose points for not getting to St. Lucy and for that damn Merrymen LP (I have three in Grenada) and end up somewhere down the ladder. Khevyn and Vanya meanwhile are using it as a dry run for their vastly superior version to be launched in the new year. Watch this space!

Le Weekend: Scene I - the Hash

2009-11-30T11:56:00.005-04:00

Being the Independence weekend, there's lots to do in Bim. Here I feature, to no-one's particular interest (except perhaps those stuck in Winter somewhere), what I did this weekend, scene by scene.

The weekend starts with the Saturday afternoon Hash. This week its from the beach at Oistins fishing village. It's a great day, perfect for running and the sea is there to cool off in at the end!

We take off towards land, thankfully, and the hares have managed to find some green in this very built up area for us to traverse.

The rag-tag bunch, emerging from a path above the supermarket.

The faster front runners are all away or watching the Serena Williams exhibition match, so I'm in first after a short 50 minute run.

And because the Religious Advisor is also AWOL, I fill in for him. The Religious Advisor is the head arbiter at the Hash Down Downs - he reigns supreme for however long it takes, doling out punishments, some deserved, some fabricated.

These two miscreants dragged themselves around the course, complaining about the heat. They were forced to drink each others choice of drink.

To demonstrate that I'm not above the law, I submit myself to the Shit Shirt. It's soaked in a cooler of ice and then rubbed in the sand before being handed to me to put on. I accept it manfully, along with obligatory drink.

The sun sets over another day in paradise.

(all pictures courtesy 'Kodak Kat', taken from barbadoshash.com)

Marathon Man

2009-11-03T20:49:00.003-04:00

My cousin Ali is always up for a challenge, so when he heard a couple months ago that another cousin Marilyn had gotten into the New York Marathon, he managed to get in too. Never mind that he had never run one before, or even a half marathon. His training consisted mainly of running home from work, in upstate New York. That's Ali, and I'm sure he never asked for any advice, or researched it, or checked out technique, or fancy shoes or gels. He just figured he was going to do it, and whenever he had some time to spare, he ran.

I'm very proud of my cousin, very. He left Grenada in the late 70's as a teenager, went to New York and by dint of hard work and ingenuity, built up two successful businesses. Entrepreneurial spirit in the Renwick family is thin on the ground, so this success of Ali's is doubly satisfying, and enviable.

Even better, Ali is still the same down to earth guy he was in Grenada all those years ago. He is loved by many. When I visit him in NY, I see the esteem and affectation with which people regard him, and which he returns in good measure.

I remember when I first got to know Ali well, as a young teenager myself. We shared a love of things mechanical. He would help me tune my mother's old Fiat 124 Special. He was known then as 'Soup Up' due to his mechanical skills and his little Ford Escort ran like a dream. I was quite proud to have an older cousin who was not only cool, but actually had time for me.

So Ali, this is my little tribute to you and what you have done in life's marathon. I also now use this opportunity to formally apologise for my jokes about your children (moffet et al).

This is Ali doing a half marathon practice run a couple weeks ago. He was so busy chatting at the start he forgot to put down his towel, glasses, etc and had to run with them!!

Finally not to forget my other favourite cus Marilyn, who also ran the marathon. Par for the course with Mal, who runs twenty miles with the casualness one of us might do a 5K...

Jounen Kweyol Intenasyonal

2009-10-31T06:56:00.010-04:00

October was Kweyol Month in St Lucia. The band pictured below is just one of many traditional folk bands who provide music for the various activities taking place all over the island. Like many things traditional in our islands, the participants are all quite elderly although I was told that younger people are coming into the genre.

As a Grenadian I envy the Lucians their kweyol culture. Even though Grenada was French for many years, and most place names are still french, the french patois (kweyol) language is dead, and our string bands are on the way out. The kweyol language really does add a unique cultural flavour.

The music produced by this band was really good, although (ironically) interspersed with some old anglocentric favourites. They were playing at an opening ceremony/ cocktail.

These gentlemen remained pretty taciturn throughout the performance, in contract to the violinist. The one on the left is playing a four string banjo. There is a small four string traditional Banjo in St Lucia called a bwa poye, but I don't think this is it.

In trying to find out more about these traditional bands, I came across what appears to be a very thorough account on Wikipedia.

An Eye for a Tooth

2009-10-29T21:29:00.005-04:00

I find that taxi drivers always surprise. I have always been interested in their stories, these people that you meet and spend time with on journeys. Its your choice, isn't it. You can while away the time in your head, or you can see what's in his (or hers). This urge to get the story always happens whenever I'm overseas, oddly, it doesn't seem to happen here in Barbados. The stories from taxi drivers could fill a book, from the exciting to the unfortunate, but never mundane.

Today, riding with Jevon on the way to the airport (in Guyana), I admired his gold teeth, and commiserated with him on the loss of his original teeth, I assumed, due to decay. Oh no, he rejoined, his teeth were (had been) perfectly healthy. He had had them removed to insert these gold implants, two on top, one below. Cost? $6,000 (Guyana dollars) or $60 Barbados. Good price huh? he said, cost a lot more in Trinidad, where he had spent some time and assumed I was from there.

So, it's a style then, I said. Yeah, he says, they are glued in and I can put any pattern I want on them, I change the pattern every 3 months, and that only costs $4,000.

Well, I said, feeling rather ignorant, I don't suppose you would wear the same stud in your ear for ever, or have the same hairstlye....he agreed.

Apologies for the quality of the snap, but you get the picture, don't you?

All good things must come to an end

2009-10-25T21:14:00.004-04:00

Yes, all good things must come to an end. A few snaps from our last day in paradise. I could have stayed another week...

Hard to describe just how clean and clear and blue this water is, V could not get enough of it.

And it was good for floating too!

The water's shallow enough in the light blue part and then drops off into really deep water in the deep blue...

What I look like after a week of no shaving, oh well.

After dinner at the "Royal Palm" restaurant...

Cooling out with 'Jacko', head of hotel 'security' on the jetty at night. He's hoping to catch some Snappers.

Trolling in and out of the shallows is a school (more like an army) of Manta Rays, about 10- 15, swimming in formation, pretty eerie sight.

Life in the Islands

2009-10-23T08:20:00.003-04:00

On Tuesday afternoon we went across to Union to scope it out. Got a ride across with the 'doc' Patrick Chevailler who is a doctor, artist (reefs, fishes and stuff - actually quite well known) and who 'manages' anchorage hotel on Union.

That's V on the bow of the boat, an old pilot launch, with Palm in the background. The Doc is on the stern, so who's steering the boat? (the 'wheel' is in the cabin....)

This is Anchorage Hotel at sunset. They have a pool (in the foreground) in which resides many sharks and a freaky looking eagle ray.

On Wednesday we went out on Scaramouche, an old Carriacou schooner which was used in Pirates of the Caribbean. the day sail took us to Mayreau (crystal clear water) and to the Tobago Cays which seem to be as pristine as they ever were and no tourists (not in October anyway).

Scaramouche is a great old boat and was our alternative to going on a modern catamaran. Unfortunately the engine had packed up so for some tacks we had a small pirogue tied unobtrusively to the side powering us along.

On Petit Tabac, one of the Cays, I met this Iguana, accompanied by several bright green babies which dissappeared when the camera came out.

On the Beach - day 2

2009-10-22T07:21:00.002-04:00

A few more pictures. Shout if this all gets too much....

The view from Palm Villa. In the distance is Mayreau on the left, Canouan on the right, both belong to St. Vincent.

Our humble abode - Palm Villa

Ha, well this is Varia trying out the Kayak - on the sand

And then in the sea...Tobago Cays in the background (great geography lesson, huh...) Notice those strong shoulders (she asked me to mention this)...

Sunrise on Palm

2009-10-22T07:10:00.001-04:00

Sunrise on Day 2. I got up at 5.30 and hiked up the hill to catch the sun coming up. These were taken just after sun-up.

Taken from the top of Iguana trail

From the hilltop looking roughly South, here is Petit Martinique in the distance, with Carriacou on the right.

Looking North to Union Island

And here is the house we're staying in... Palm Villa...

Palm Island Day 1

2009-10-19T17:48:00.004-04:00

Some of you know we're on Palm Island for the week, so here's your worst fear - a running commentary!

We were supposed to be on an 18 seater, but that did not work out, so they put us in a 5 seater...

Varia got the back of the plane all to herself...

Bird's eye view of Palm Island.

We landed safely in Union on Sunday evening, just before sunset, then took a boat across to Palm, all of 10 minutes. The plane has to turn around quickly, there are no lights on the strip

The house is simple but very comfortable and well kitted out.

The first sunrise the next morning...

Under Your Very Nose

2009-10-14T22:38:00.002-04:00

I wrote this note in late 2007, following a fascinating chat with a friend about his daughter’s internet experience. I sent it to several parents and got barely a response. Most people think it can’t happen to them.
I post it now because it’s relevant to the next post…and because it bears repeating. I'm truly sorry it is so long...

For about 10 months or so, a friend of mine here in Barbados has noticed his daughter Jenny (10) often online (MSN Messenger) with a former classmate of hers – let’s call her Mary (also 10).

It apparently all started when ‘Mary’ contacted Jenny online and told her that she had had a problem with her hotmail account and that she had to change it. The new email was, Mary said, code_b@hotmail.com. Jenny dutifully accepted the story and added Mary’s new contact, and online conversation resumed and intensified with Mary’s new email address.

Over the months, the conversations with Mary developed a pattern. Mary would ask Jenny to turn on her webcam (Mary didn’t have one), which Jenny would readily accede to. Mary would ask Jenny if her breasts had grown yet and would ask Jenny to take her top off to show her. Because they had been reasonably friendly and in the same school previously in Barbados. Mary would ask Jenny if ‘she had any hair down there’. After a while, Jenny became uncomfortable with these questions and would make up excuses not to do what Mary asked, like ‘my father/mother is in the room’, or ‘I’ve got to go to bed now’.

A few weeks ago, one of Jenny’s friends, Sue (13), was online at night when ‘Jenny’ came online. Jenny asked Sue for answers to certain questions, on the understanding that it was a sort of a ‘question game’. ‘Jenny’ obtained from Sue a lot of personal information, including her hotmail password. ‘Jenny’ asked Sue if she had a webcam, asked her to turn it on, and to take off her top. Sue by this time was suspicious (she knew that Jenny was already aware that Sue had a webcam), panicked and went offline.

Sue called Jenny to find out if she had been online – she hadn’t. In the time it took for her to make that call, and to figure out that someone was impersonating Jenny, the impersonator had already got into Sue’s hotmail account and blocked her, changed the password, the secret question, and basically taken over her online identity.

Without access to the dozens of contacts in Sue’s MSN contacts list, she was powerless to warn them that someone might be contacting them, impersonating her.

My friend is certain the impersonator was code_b@hotmail.com. He googled code_b@hotmail.com and discovered a teenager (female) from Saskatchewan on MySpace, with a warning on her page to look out for code_b@hotmail.com because (he) had hacked her hotmail account.

When my friend spoke to Mary, she said that her hotmail account (maryxxxx@hotmail.com) had ‘stopped working’ about 10 months ago, and she had gotten a new address. She hadn’t been on MSN with Jenny since….

The thing is that Jenny and Mary are back in the same school now, but have never had a conversation about their online conversations. Such is the modern way. Jenny simply thought Mary was a little weird.

My friend’s process of discovery of these events unfolded slowly. It was not until Jenny was fully convinced that it was really not Mary she had been speaking to all these months, that she finally admitted to the kinds of conversations they had been having. Before that, she had been protective of ‘Mary’, not wanting to get her into trouble.

My friend considered himself a relatively internet-aware parent, reasonably vigilant about Jenny’s online activities; spoke to her about the dangers of the internet, being contacted by strangers, downloading stuff without permission. The computer was in an open space.

Balance that however against the times your child might spend several hours unsupervised on the computer, while you are washing the car, cooking, doing laundry or having a party. Balance that also against the innocence of a 10 year old who implicitly trusts her friends and family.

Children much younger than 10 are online with ‘friends’. Do you know who these friends are. Do you know whether they are who they say they are?

A few days after all this unfolded, Jenny was online (for the first time, and supervised) with a younger friend, Alice. Without thinking, and in response to Alice asking, Jenny turned on her webcam.

That was two weeks ago. In the intervening period, I have discovered that hotmail hacking, for financial gain, and for sexual predation, is in fact much more common than we might expect. Many people have stories that they have not shared.

Today, a friend related to me that her daughter was having an online conversation with a friend in another country. Through pure chance they discovered that the friend had not in fact been online, and within hours, my friend’s hotmail account was inaccessible, hacked. Because she orders stuff online, she immediately contacted her credit card companies and stopped the card(s). She felt that there might have been credit card numbers, user names and other information that could be used to enable unauthorized use of the card(s).

My initial advice – I’m no expert: Switch off the webcam. It should only be used with permission, and only when the other party is also using theirs. Visual recognition is the only real proof that you know who you’re talking to. Encourage your kids to ask questions only the real other party would know. But not personal questions, because they shouldn’t answer those either. Safe questions (e.g if they’re in the same school - name of teacher, etc).

If you’re a hotmail user, think about what’s in your folders and inbox. Or your child’s. Does it have banking details? Credit card details? Usernames for online banking and accounts on Ebay and such like? A hacker would have access to all these.

We all chose to think that online identity theft and sexual predation was a first world thing, it’s right under our noses, in our homes….check yourself - and your kids.

November 5, 2007

Letting go, again

2009-09-29T21:25:00.011-04:00

Yes, this does look like a pile of junk. But it actually is a Vietnam era US army jeep, complete. Just in pieces. Disassembled a mere 20 years ago to be restored. It has languished, wheels and suspension stored under the house, body on its side in the garage, engine and gearbox under bags of decaying nutmeg shells. 20 years. Now it's time to give up this one too. It once rode proudly in pink through the streets of St. George's to and from work; it crossed the length of Telescope beach, surf spraying from under the wheels; got stuck crossing the Levera Pond and had to be driven 15 miles back to town with a vicegrip on the brake line. And it gave a comfortable ride, even without shock absorbers.

All in all a characterful vehicle. Produced at great cost for the US Army (isn't everything), it was allegedly given to flipping over when cornered hard, but it soldiered on reliably (pun intended). It gave me four years of trouble-free service. Sometime around 1989, with the salt damage from Telescope beach and other far-flung military adventures beginning to show, I decided to restore it. I spent a memorable few days taking it apart under the skeptical eye of various family members but didn't get very far in the restoration effort when I found a job in Barbados and left Grenada.

How it came into my hands is mildly interesting. In the mid-eighties I struck up an acquantaince with this old guy called Baje (because he was a Bajan) who lived on the beach at Fontenoy, doing small engine repairs. After a few visits to his yard, I asked about the old vehicle under the tarp. (you have to read this in Bajan) "Maaarrnn, tha's is a complete army jeep" he said, "dem gi me dis for showing dem how to get tru de reef. I gine fix it up. I ent selling it fuh nuttin".

Brought into Grenada by the US Army during the invasion in 1983, they had partially disassembled the jeep and handed it over to Baje, with a good supply of spare parts. A peek under the tarp confirmed the strange and intriguing story, and drew me back to Baje several times over the next year.

The prospect of owning a genuine army jeep kept me awake at night. That model hadn't yet been released as surplus, so it was possibly the only one in private hands. My transport at that time was a 185cc trail bike. I never actually asked Baje if I could buy it, nor did I ever ask to see it again. But we were kindred spirits, interested in all thing mechanical.

A year later it was still there under the tarpaulin. One day we were sitting down contemplating an old lawn mower he was working on. "You wan tek the jeep and see wha you could do wid it?" "Yeah, ah wuddun mind" was my deliberate reply. He offered it to me for a price we both agreed was fair. A few months later it was reassembled and roadworthy. There followed tortuous negotiations with the licensing authority who wanted to know how they could be expected to license a vehicle which had no import papers (having entered the country via landing craft). Eventually I was allowed to pay a purchase tax to legalise it and then it could be registered. The best part of all was seeing it change from camouflage green to pink and grey zebra stripes, drawn by an artistic friend and hand painted with Berger 404 roof paint by me.

Yes, that is me, in orange polka dot shorts and grey top, looking very cool, circa 1987. I know, I fell off my chair laughing too.

But one does need to be sensible about which dreams to pursue, and with persons unnamed threatening to carry it off to the dump at Perseverance, a new home has been found for it. All bits collected together, it will soon be taken to a kinder home, hopefully to feel the road again, hopefully not in 20 years....

Arrestable Offences

2009-09-16T20:10:00.003-04:00

I came across the Royal Grenada Police Force Prosecution Department on a recent trip to the Market Square in St. George's. It was a Saturday, and as the signage attests, it was closed. This is the building overlooking the Market Square that used to be occupied by the Minor Spices Cooperative Society, which presumably no longer exists. Why the RGPF would locate their prosecution dept right above the market beats me, but it probably is because of damage to the original location by hurricane Ivan which was never repaired, forcing them to relocate to this less than ideal location.

Anyway, what caught my eye was the sternness of the warnings posted on the wall. Loitering as an arrestable offence is pretty strong stuff. In many countries loitering with intent to commit a crime is certainly an arrestable offence, but just plain loitering? In front of the Prosecution dept? Who would want to loiter there anyway? As to the parking, the whole street is designated No Parking, so why park at all, and in front of this particular office! Grenadians must be brave people. Or bold.

On the left door is a sign posted displaying the Carnival Rules. One rule which occupied the attention of the RGPF this year was apparently the arrestable offence of men (or women) dressing as the opposite sex. Men dressing as women has been a staple of the Jouvert for as long as I know it and probably much longer. It is usually employed as part of an Old Mas presentation, but it can just be for so. Well apparently this year the RGPF took it more seriously than usual and among the many admonitions to the Grenadian public, was the reminder that anyone caught dressed as the opposite sex would be committing an offence (presumably an arrestable one).

This is my cousin Craig posing with Lili on the Sunday before Carnival. Dressing as a woman during carnival is standard practice for him. Asked why, he replies "ay ay, is carnival.." He wasn't in full kit yet - "saving dat for tomorrow...I cyan go in town doh, de police go arrest me".

Monday Night Mas - Grenada Carnival

2009-09-14T20:31:00.005-04:00

Monday night mas used to consist of watching the bands come out of Queens Park where the Pageant was held. The bands would parade across the stand at Queens Park and then come into town on their way back to their band HQ. As time went by the concept of T-shirt bands for a Monday afternoon jump-up became popular and now it is The Big Thing. Pageant might still exist, but the so-called pretty mas save themselves for Tuesday, and Monday is now fully given over to the T-shirt bands. Sponsored by local entities, the bands charge a minimum price for which you get a shirt and some battery powered paraphernalia, headgear and (with the Carib band) a beer guzzler. Advised that it begins at 7pm, we arrive at 6.30, to take in the atmosphere and see the sun set over the Lagoon. At 7.30pm and no trace of the band or any of its members we retire to the Horny Baboon at Lazy Lagoon for some refreshment. It's at least 9pm before things get going.

Varia poses, showing off her battery powered baubles to full effect...

Neil and Lesleydiv>

We're limited to a point & shoot, so the quality is not great

A shakey shot of the crowd. There are several bands, and a keen competition for the top prize, so the DJ on the music truck is constantly barking out instructions as we approach the judging point. We're called on to wave our lights, but when we don't display enough enthusiasm, we do it over, and over, and over again, and each time it involves the whole crowd literally reversing 10 or 15 feet, until we get it right, and the band goes past the judging point. We don't win anyway, because Digicel, right behind us, actually have Star Wars type swords which are far more impressive...

Well, I just like this picture...don't you?

Free? at Last

2009-09-08T22:48:00.008-04:00

A couple years ago, on the 24th anniversary of the October 19th, 1983, I wrote the note appended below. These last few days, reading of the release of the remaining members of the PRG who had been found guilty of the execution of Maurice Bishop, several Cabinet members and others, I remembered it and dug it out .

It’s not hard to understand why so many are still violently opposed to the release of these remaining detainees - the so-called Grenada 17. They are invariably persons who lost family and friends in the most brutal way imaginable, at the hands of a firing squad. Or whose relative might have died or been maimed jumping off the 30 - 40 foot walls of the Fort George to avoid being caught in the crossfire. There was never really any doubt about who pulled the actual triggers. The army officers who apparently did the deed were “only carrying out orders”. What has always been less clear is who, if anyone, gave the order.

Evidence given by one man, a former security officer for Bishop was apparently able to provide this specific information, and on that basis, the shooters and the order-givers were sent down. Different theories persist about the events of that day and the preceding two weeks and questions remain to this day. Over the past few years, several (most) of the group have been released. With all the questions about the legality of the trial, and the soundness of the verdict, it was increasingly clear that no government was keen to keep these people imprisoned. It is said that some persons who might have been involved in the “decision to execute” were never detained and were able to re-integrate into society, leading relatively normal lives. Another irony - several of the persons advocating for their release actually suffered under their hands. The editor of a local newspaper, and the current PM were both detained under the PRG (for detained read imprisoned). At any rate the resentencing of most of the Group in 2007 paved the way for their release on 5th September 2009.

There is also the work of the Group while in prison. In any estimation, the incarceration of this generally highly educated group of people has had a very positive effect on the other prisoners. Some of the Group obtained university degrees while in prison and the educational classes they organised benefitted the prison population in no small way. They were eventually given senior and trusted roles in the prison, undertaking projects and overseeing for instance the construction of a new women’s prison. Their absence will therefore be sorely missed.

Not to imply that their position in the prison system was a comfortable one. The early days of incarceration were in maximum security conditions, in a prison several hundred years old and described by most as not fit for human habitation. Hurricane Ivan in 2004 wreaked havoc on the prison, and many inmates escaped. The Group decided to stay behind and by some accounts were instrumental in restoring some semblance of order.

Of the final seven freed recently, one was in my class in school and another, two forms ahead of me, a third was my youth group leader.

This is my recollection of that fateful day:

Today, the 19th of October 2007 is (unbelievably) 24 years since the collapse of the so-called Grenada revolution. On this day in 1983, Maurice Bishop, still charismatic and loved despite his excesses under cover of the Revolutionary government in place since 1979, was freed from house arrest at his home overlooking St George’s.

I was at home that Wednesday morning and heard the news on the grapevine. Maurice was free and he was going to town to speak to the people. My mother and I (my father thought we were crazy), joined by my cousin Beverly, went to town to catch the scene. The scene of an entrenched revolutionary government, unravelling before our eyes. An impossible thought just hours before.

In the market square. People milled, Maurice was on his way, speakers were being set up, it was almost a carnival atmosphere. I was recently returned from Uni in the UK, eager to contribute, but just a bit leery of the darker side of the ‘revo’ I had begun to experience.

Then the word came – he had gone to Fort Rupert instead. We climbed the hill to the base of the Fort, My mother, Beverly and I, amidst the throng of persons heading the same way. Again, the slightly, off-centre, carnival type of feeling, the release from the cautious living everyone had become accustomed to, careful of being branded a ‘counter’.

‘Pumphead’ – Keith Hayling – a comrade of Maurice, passed, we hailed him and chatted briefly, he worked with my mother in the same insurance company. He was in the group executed.

We stopped at the junction at the base of the last incline leading up to the Fort. A narrow, almost one-way thoroughfare, steep, passing the Presbyterian Church, and the main police HQ, up to the Fort, one of the major bases of the People’s Revolutionary Army.

We stood on the stoop of the Cooperative Bank, closed, as were all the other businesses in town, arguing about whether to proceed up the hill to the Fort. My mother, naturally curious and always eager to be in the action, as was my cousin, wanting to proceed up the hill. I counselled caution, conscious of the narrow road, the crowds, and the likelihood of some sort of uncontrollable situation…

As we talked, around the bend swung three BTRs, Russian made armoured personnel carriers, 8 wheelers, each with two engines in the rear, and amphibious. On the tops of the BTRs, young soldiers, sporting AK47s at the ready, the machine guns in the centre of the BTRs also manned.

They were heading in the direction of the hill. In their way was a small Toyota, waiting to be called by the Traffic policemen at the junction. They had to slow and actually stop. “Mash dat to f--k outa de way” shouted the soldier on the front BTR (perhaps Connie Mayers, the first to die in action), as the lead BTR picked up speed and rammed the unfortunate vehicle and it occupants to one side, crumpling it like a paper bag.

They continued up the hill, the three BTRs, and over the roofs came the sound pop- pop –poppopoppop –pop. In my naivety, I thought, they’re shooting blanks, it’s Ok. We stood there, outside the bank, mesmerised, trying to figure out what exactly was happening, when the first person came running down the hill, and past us. That first guy was clutching his head, which was bleeding profusely.

The truth hit me, real stuff was happening, these were real bullets. I said “let’s go” and we ran back up the street, to the car, the sounds pop –pop –pop- poppoppop echoing around the town, in a surreal way. Got to the car. The streets were empty still, with everyone caught up at the Fort, in god knows whatever was happening there.

We went straight to the Friday’s house, a 10 minute drive at most. They lived on a ridge next to the prison. From there you had a complete view of the town. And the Fort. By the time we got there everything was quiet again, there were no sounds.

At about 30 minutes (?) after the main shooting, an outburst of rapid fire tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-atatatatatatatatat for what seemed like a minute. Then silence again. A flare rose from the Fort, a signal? Grenada later found out that this was the signal from the force at the Fort, that the threat had been eliminated. Maurice Bishop and seven others, shot, execution style, in the drill yard of the fort. Among them, Keith Hayling, my mother’s co-worker, and Unison Whiteman, my history teacher from secondary school.

We eventually went home, ignorant of what had actually happened on the day, until the early evening, when General Austin, head of the army, came on air to announce the untimely death of Bishop and others, and the onset of a dusk to dawn curfew, violators to ‘be shot on sight’.

Photos courtesy of www.thegrenadarevolutiononline.com copyright A.E. Wilder, photo of the BTR courtesy wikipedia

Grenada's Shortknee Mas

2009-09-02T21:41:00.012-04:00

Shortknee mas are unique to Grenada. Other Caribbean carnivals may have mas with some similar aspects, but the Shortknee themselves aren't found anywhere else. They were apparently originally known as the Grenade Pierrot with Italian and French origins, synthesised with African traditions. They became known as Shortknee after their knee length trousers, as Grenada anglicised away from its French patois. The shortknee bands move at a trot, chanting as they go along the bells tied onto their ankles making music. They are known to use chants to speak about village or society wrongdoing, to 'out' persons who have broken a moral code - a sort of moral militia.

The Shortknee bands used to be entirely village based, and stories abound of clashes between rival villages. The costume is ideal for concealing the odd cutlass, bull pistle or other weapon. When they clashed it must have been a bloody event and there are even stories of persons being killed. At one time the use of masks was banned to remove the anonymity they provided. The bands travel great distances on foot, stopping to collect donations, both from houses on the way, or from passing cars.

This is part of a group which had come down from Balthazar in St. Andrews, it was Carnival Monday afternoon, and they were passing through St.Paul's (somewhat of a detour), intent on making their way into town without delay. This didn't stop them from asking me for cash, preferably US, according to one guy, since he had to travel to Barbados to get a visa and needed some travelling money.

They continued on down the road stopping anything on four wheels. The bands distinguish themselves by the colours of the costumes, particularly the tunics.

You can find them young as well. This child, presumably on his father's shoulders, has just travelled at least 5, perhaps 10 miles with the group.

This is Ham Bone, the captain of the Shortknee band from Grand Roy, a village halfway up the west coast of Grenada. Ham Bone is an odd job man, meaning he makes his living by doing odd jobs for people. He says he's taken in some Shortknee from the Coastguard area (another fishing village further up the coast) - their group went bust - and his band is going into town on Tuesday, the day when the 'pretty' bands parade. Even though he lives in Grand Roy, he actually spends most nights in Mt. Parnassus, a mile or so down the road. This is necessary if he is to be able to get to jobs easily (Grand Roy is quite a trek). Those night are spent in an ajoupa, which is probably too fancy a description for a lean-to with a roof of plastic sheeting.

As he lives close by, he comes up just before going into town to demonstrate his costume. During our conversation I find out that they change their costume every year - "you want dis one?" he asks, "people does send for dem from England for de carnival up dere." I willingly accept, and he offers to drop back in after playing mas, to offload the costume (we're leaving Grenada the next day).

Ham Bone demonstrates some moves, as the bells around his ankles jingle with each stomp. He's also wearing tights. Some bands allow all colour shoes, he says, "but with us it have to be white." Aside from the tunic, there are at least 5 other patterns on the sleeves and trousers. These days the powder is usually talcum, but in the old days it could have been any concoction.

A black cloth strip tied to the mask lays on his head, which is covered with, yes, a face towel. The face mask is made of wire mesh these days, bordered by a piece of tin can cut, bent and crimped around the edges of the mesh, and very neatly too!

Ham Bone undertakes to deliver the costume on his way home that evening at 9pm, after playing mas all afternoon. I'm highly skeptical about the likelihood of this materialising, but agree. Sure enough on the dot of 9 that night Ham Bone walks up the gap, and proceeds to disrobe "I cyan give you de shoes doh", but everything else comes off, bells, mask, trousers, tunic, and two pairs of tights he was holding as spares. He's left with a t-shirt, something looking like cycle shorts - and the shoes. The costume now resides in Barbados, part of the growing Mustardseed collection...

We discuss the day, which is actually Saturday. Tuesday was rained out and for the first time in recorded history, they postponed Tuesday Mas to Saturday. This is good , he says, it gave the traditional mas more breathing space. He plans to phone into one of the call-in programmes to suggest they keep the Saturday after carnival as an additional mas day for the traditional mas. I think its a great idea.

Lili gets a opportunity to pose with Ham Bone, Captain of the Grand Roy Shortknee.

A interesting article on the shortknee is at:
http://www.spicemasgrenada.com/press/2009/07/shortknee_article1.html

The Music Has Me Tipsy (still)

2009-08-24T21:27:00.015-04:00

This year's Cropover was full of great music and song, and it's just too soon to let them go. When Carnival/cropover/whatever is in your blood, its like a virus. Catch it early and feed it. Leave it too late and you'll always feel there was unfinished business, songs you didn't hear enough. Songs you only heard once.

I made that fatal mistake this year, got into it too late. The top hit of the season, 'Hot Sun & Riddim', by TC, I only heard at the Big Show about 10 days before Kadooment. That's too late. I didn't even hear the whole song, because we got there late and the show was already winding up, TC was already into it. But I could tell it was something special. One listen and it was in my head that night, along with Nathalee's 'This Is How We Do It'.

I should know better. It's happened to me before, usually Grenada carnival, waiting until the last moment to get to Grenada, for the last moment to hear the tunes, and then afterwards, that nagging dissatisfaction. Lack of closure is what it is, musically speaking.

So here is my attempt at musical catharsis, by reliving some of the memorable moments for Cropover music - in this case, the Sweet Soca Competition which took place at Farley Hill, on the same day as the party Monarch. The Sweet Soca is a mid tempo competition, so the faster tunes don't feature. I took my camera along to get people pictures, strictly speaking you weren't allowed to shoot the artistes, but no-one was paying attention. I stood up next to this guy whose camera and lenses probably cost more than my car, but I got some action.

The songs are linked in order of their placing in the competition. To do this right, you have to be listening to the songs while viewing the pics!

TC rings out 'Hot Sun & Riddim' as the rhythm section behind also get caught up in the spirit. She gives it her all and she has a powerful voice. This was the official band song for Am-Bush and it wins the competition.

On de road, all we need is hot sun and riddim, riddim....her presentation is action packed, she's surrounded by colourful dancers and colourful cloth.

She ends on a high note, the dancers freeze, the crowd is happy.

Placing second in the competition was Nathalee - This is What We Do - the lyrics of which just perfectly describe what we do.

She's accompanied by about six dancers in Mother Sally outfits, but it's the lyrics which really make this song a real hit, along with her great style....my posse doing dixie, the music got me tipsy, oh I don know about you, but dis is what we do...

Mikey gets third place with 'I In Dat'. He's a real showman, he never stops smiling, bringing you into his performance.

Whole day we liming, whole night we wining, I in dat, I in dat....his dancers move up and down the stage with him, swaying as it were to the beat. Excellent choreography, some of the lyrics might not be politically correct but his performance pulls you right in.

At the end, he unexpectedly leaps off the stage into a pool, he's in dat, too. I only just catch him, blurred, but the action is there, it's a great finish.

Fourth placed is Mr. Dale who is a serious songwriter as well. When interviewed after the show, he says he's happy, three of his songs are at the top. Perhaps he's more down-to-earth on stage, but he's a great performer. ..Look for me, look for me at brewster road fete, berger boys fete, wadada fete...and the chorus and base sound on every repeat of "fete"...

For some reason I didn't get any pictures of Blood (always a flawless performer) who placed fifth with 'Back It Up'(I think he was on first, before I got to the stage), so here's Khiomal of Krosfyah fame, doing Caution.

His presentation was highly choreographed, and the tableaux somewhat reminiscent of the 'wild west', but highly entertaining.

So much music so little time. There are easily several dozen top quality songs coming out of Cropover, many of which we will never hear again, and that is sad.

More Cropover pictures are on my flickr page:http://www.flickr.com/photos/37422365@N05/sets/72157621857234803/

Foreday Morning

2009-08-18T18:36:00.003-04:00

Foreday Morning is Barbados' closest thing to a traditional J'ouvert. Held on the Saturday before Monday's Kadooment, it starts early, about 1.30am, and goes on till daylight. There are a couple mud/paint bands, and we joined one which provided us with a chocolate base.

By the time a couple hours had passed we had acquired a few more colours from roving paint providers... They're very fancy with their bands in Bim, so lots of rope and no intruding! Still, plenty paint to go around...

Afterwards, we went for breakfast to a morning fete with Khevyn and Lani. We looked like crap, but everyone else looked worse, because they had just gotten out of bed....
(thanks to Jungle Juice and Anton for the pictures)

Am-Bushing Kadooment day

2009-08-08T16:22:00.011-04:00

The banner for Am-Bush, creation of Variations Theater (Varia), conceptualised late one sleepless night. The band started three strong but ended up with a grand total of 21. The idea was to protest variously against the ills of society, the environment, the bikini & beads cropover mentality. Kadooment Day is the 1st Monday in August, the Barbados equivalent of carnival Tuesday (pretty mas), and is the culmination of the Cropover festival.

The costumes were to be natural, bush was encouraged. The band was formally registered and we crossed the stage third and went on the road with a rythym section from the Israel Lovell Foundation.

The band crosses the stage, we're early so the stands are pretty empty. Lots of cameras around though, so the band gets plenty of attention from the media, certainly more than any of the mainstream bands.

A short clip of the rythm section as we head down the road....

Every time we passed a sound system, we would stop and get them to play "Hot Sun & Riddim" by TC, winner of the Party Monarch and the Sweet Soca Competition, and the Official Band song...this invariably took some persuading by Varia, as DJs naturally frown on being told what to play, so we'd have to wait for them to get round to it - all in the spirit of the mas....

Varia gets a cool shower from a roadside mister, never mind the day was still overcast and cloudy...

My costume consisted of vines around my lower half, coconut straw on my top and a headpiece of african snails topped by elephant grass. It was supposed to portray the snails eating their way across Barbados leaving a land of wild vine and dry bush behind, on their way to destroying the last vestige of green (on my head). All conceptualised on sunday afternoon and constructed mostly on Monday morning, just before the 8am start of the Kadooment...

This is what we mean, pretty, but still bikini & beads (mexican beads, apparently).

It's a Rum Life

2009-07-21T13:22:00.001-04:00

Recently we have had two events in Barbados to launch the Authentic Caribbean Rum Marque. The Marque is a seal of quality and provenance which guarantees that the rum associated with it is genuine Caribbean rum which meets the necessary quality standards.

The campaign has been running in the UK, Spain and Italy since mid 2008 but we have only just got around to formally launching it in the Caribbean. In the first event at the end of May, 18 producers from around the Caribbean (Guyana, Suriname, Trinidad, Grenada, Barbados, St. Vincent, St. Lucia, Antigua, Jamaica, Dominican Republic, Haiti, Belize) displayed their main brands to media from the Caribbean and from Europe. The second event was a rum tasting for Ministers of Trade in mid June, which is where the pictures below were taken.

The campaign features the faces of persons who work in the industry, Coopers, Master blenders, etc., they're real people and the campaign is all about true rum, real rum, real people (www.truerum.com).

We also recently filmed a web TV production in the UK which is worth watching, feel free to send the link to the show around.
http://webchats.co.uk/chat/an_authentic_taste_of_the_caribbean

Pan Pun De Sand

2009-07-20T23:28:00.000-04:00

Another Crop-over event, featuring Steelbands playing on their own and also backing some of the season's top performers and hits. This is the Mighty Grynner, 63 years old and still sounding strong. It all happened at Brighton beach. Thousands, yes, thousands converged on the beach for the event, yet it was all so orderly in the way it could only be in Barbados. This picture is what it is because it was taken from a distance of about 150 feet...

Lili waits for her order of fishcakes, smothered by smoke from the grill and wondering why she was chosen for this special task :-)

AS the day ends, the hawkers move out of their booths to flog the last trinkets before all the kids are carted home to bed. The pictures are dark because they're all shot in natural light (no flash).

All good things come to an end and we make our way along the highway back to the car. For some odd reason, Lili can't stop smiling.."I can't stop smiling..." she says, as I try for a serious shot under the street lamp. For once, Varia isn't.

The Pork Lime

2009-07-20T22:54:00.001-04:00

The Pork Lime is a Friday after work affair which goes till late, geared to take advantage of the crop-over party spirit. About 15 tents cater to providing pork every which way, from souse to BBQ pigtails. The bar alone is about 50 feet long, designed for fast service. We got there about 6pm when it was still pretty empty. It was a spectacular sunset, well hidden from us by the hills, so I contented myself with a shot of the green lit trees, pink lit building and darkening blue sky.

When the rain started to fall Varia decided to stay out in the open and enjoy the music, while every single other person ran for shelter.

Baby's first Steps

2009-07-03T17:51:00.002-04:00

We live on something of a farm, or perhaps more accurately, a bird sanctuary. It feels like that anyway. In the evenings, as the sun sets, the birds - doves, pigeons, sparrows and a few others - settle in the trees for the night, and the bats come out. Come out of our attic actually. The attic of this old house is the home of hundreds of bats. Even though most of them are out at night, you can still here them falling to the ceiling from the rafters, with a plop, and squirreling around before they get back to their perches.

In the mornings, there is a mass feeding frenzy from just before dawn, when all the young ones scream in unison as they compete for food. The main bedroom, surrounded as it is by trees, gets all of this sound full force. Loudest of all are the parrots (actually ring-necked parakeets) which seem to think it is their duty to wake the dead. They circle the house shrieking at full volume, for no apparent reason.

Aside from Bats, the attic is also home to the intrepid parrots, who have recently founds ways to get in and lay eggs. They pick at the coral plaster, taking advantage of rotten boards to make just enough space to get in and out. Most of the time these eggs don't survive, but I have removed parrots twice previously from the attic and a third set have hatched and are growing now. To the uninitiated, young parrots can sound just like like rats running around, and make a noise not dissimilar to a distant jackhammer. Growing parrots in the attic are not condicive to sleep. The pictures below are of the oldest of three which are in the attic now. The oldest was apparently ready to go and amazingly managed to find its way out.

In this picture the young one has just made its way out of the attic to the edge of the roof. Daddy (you can tell from the ring) is coaxing it out. Come on, he says, you can do it! Ah cyan do it! the adolescent shrieks...

This goes on for quite a while without result so daddy does a fly round to show how easy it is.

And so it jumps with a loud squawk, feet sticking out ungainly, still looking for purchase, somewhere...

But it does manage to fly, and eventually after several rings round the house they settle on a branch of a mahogany tree...There, that wasn't so hard was it?....

Sunnyside Garden

2009-06-26T16:27:00.010-04:00

The kiss of the sun for pardon, The song of the birds for mirth,

One is nearer Gods heart in a garden, Than anywhere else on earth.

(Dorothy Frances Gurney)

Inscribed on the back of an old wooden bench in the garden, I think this is one of my mother's favourite sayings. She and my father have toiled tirelessy over the past almost 40 years to develop and maintain what is now known as Sunnyside Garden. Although both had busy working lives, they immersed themselves in the garden, with my mother focussing on feasts for the eyes and my father on food for the belly.

Sunnyside, originally part of a larger property called Darlington was purchased in the 1920s by my grandparents. In the early '80s my mother bought the land next door, and began the herculean challenge of creating a vibrant tropical garden from bush. The feel of this second phase was far more tropical and less formal that the earlier Sunnyside phase, but is still fully integrated into the overall "Sunnyside Garden".

An old 'copper' or 'taiche' provides a container for some lilies. The zoysia grass in this section is left to bulk up, so it's about knee high.

A romantic and serene resting place? The reality of the tropics means that if the hammock were to be left out in the weather, it would be mildewed and rotten in no time...so it goes in at night.

A profusion of colour provided by a bed of various bromeliads, alocasia, cordylines, sealing wax palms and..that's it, that's all I know...In the background is the trunk of perhaps the only Baobab in Grenada, who knows how it got there...

Palms, cashew trees and a mango jostle for space with a mahogany, maybe over 100 years old, whose base is covered with bromeliads. See more photos of Sunnyside Garden here:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=227403&id=555683267&l=ab41e5748a

Saying Goodbye Is never Easy

2009-06-25T17:47:00.001-04:00

Yup, it's been sold. After sitting in the garage, sometimes not, for close on 5? years, I finally washed and shampooed it, changed the fuel pump, and another bit, and it eventually started, and ran like a baby (where does that saying come from?). Sounds easy but it was quite some hours...at times I despaired and almost called Fatman to come and take it for free....
From this angle, you can't tell that the windshield was bent from the kiss of a bulldozer blade, or that it rolled over one day when it was left on an incline in neutral with the handbrake down...or that the front was the really rusty bit.
There were lots of enquiries. Does it have a top? Does it have a/c? How many miles on the clock? (Its 20 years old - what do you think...). Eventually this guy came round to have a look. I'll give you $5,000 he said. I said, hmm, you want me to start it for you? You want to drive it? He didn't.
I said, it isn't licensed or insured...He handed over the cash, I wrote a receipt on a piece of paper and he drove off....

The Cooper and the Barrel

2009-06-23T22:35:00.001-04:00

The art of coopering is an important process in the art & science of rum ageing. The Cooper is responsible for ensuring the integrity of the barrels used for ageing rum, all once used oak barrels. This hammer and purpose built chisel are used for driving the hoops down the barrel.

Once used oak barrels being prepared for filling with rum. Straw helps seal between the staves. Once the hoops are knocked down they'll be filled with rum which is then left to age for anywhere up to 25 years. Ageing in the tropics is about 3 times faster than in temperate climes, so expect the flavour to develop much faster and to lose up to 10% every year from evaporation - the Angel's Share..

Rivets, punches to fasten the hoops

Proud team of Coopers

Piggy Goes to Market

2009-06-19T16:32:00.000-04:00

Caught Redman's Sow sticking her nose through the gate of her pen, apparently she does it for all visiting photographers....see how the hole is worn round

Hard to believe, but the runt in the corner is one of this litter "lassie", the last one to come out. Looking at the picture we can imagine the exclusionary behaviour from its larger siblings, access only to food scraps inhibiting growth...scary, animal farm-like...

Evening of Words at Spice of Life

2009-06-10T21:18:00.002-04:00

An evening of words and song, Sunday May 31st. This is a mood shot, handheld, no flash.

Varia emphasising a point

Karen does a mixture of song and lyric. Click here to watch:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CQz6VbIOmMg

Another mood shot with Alison Sealey Smith on stage (verandah), complete with extra lighting installed by me the same day.

A collection of the pieces:

Bad-johns

2009-06-08T22:15:00.000-04:00

These guys were sitting on a wall outside a show I was attending. They were like - hey man, what you doing with that camera? I only have it for style I said, so I could get into the show for free, it wasn't even working....they almost fell off the wall laughing, so did I, it was really funny - you had to be there. Anyway after that they were happy to pose for a shot, or to be shot. Someone from the show asked if they were bothering me, they have a reputation, he said....

Israel Lovell Foundation Fundraiser

2009-06-01T22:47:00.004-04:00

Varia drums with the Israel Lovell Foundation, a comunity group. They're raising funds for a trip to Guyana and these are some shots from the fundraisng dinner dinner show all for the princely sum of $25.

This is shot a without flash, gives it more mood. They're preparing to start their piece.

Everyone else is pretty serious, but Varia is in the groove, happy as pappy.

The cast on stage for the finale

Here's a second video:

From Young...

2009-05-29T22:06:00.001-04:00

The kids put on a dance, complete with costumes - white vests. This is them at the start of their choreographed piece, hands raised in the air.

In a line under the tent, it all seems to be going well, the music's playing, and they're moving well together...

And then the tops come off in a sort of pseudo strip...

Followed by each moving out to the tent poles for a kiddie pole dance...!

Clearly choreographed by an adult. Ahh, what we put on the children..

Through a glass, darkly

2009-05-26T22:32:00.002-04:00

These really seemed to suit black and white

This young man makes a serious pose, very intense, and I'm not sure why

Behind the lines

2009-05-26T21:44:00.001-04:00

The kids had a jumping tent, which turned out to be an excellent photo - pose frame, in between jumping on each other and being hurled from one end to another by the older ones. Kevin in the picture below is Diana's son, and that's his niece, actually....

Below Jevon and a visiting friend ham it up

And then all five pose in their own ways....

Escape from Alcatraz - this kid hurtles out of the tent closely followed by several other boys, he's got to get out of the way pronto, or risk being landed on by the bigger boys.

Neighbourhood Party

2009-05-26T21:30:00.001-04:00

My neighbour Diana had a party last Saturday to celebrate her 50th, but with a big emphasis on the kids. I wondered over there before the hash hoping to get some daylight pictures of the kids and I wasn't disappointed. Things were pretty quiet, it wasn't scheduled to start until 7 pm. Some of the kids were occupying themselves playing dominoes

Jevon was fascinated by the thought of being captured on film and spent the first few minutes trying to get in the frame at any cost...

One of the older boys, Rico, is a picture of concentration, as he tries to suss out the next play.

Heroes day Drumming Gig

2009-05-19T22:21:00.002-04:00

Varia's first drumming gig with Israel Lovell Drummers - Heroes Day "Cultural Presentation" Place - Parliament Buildings. They provided back up for various performances. Next show is Saturday 30th May...

The little boy next to Varia is only 4 years old and has only been playing for about 4 months, about the same as Varia. They sounded like pros!

Cute as a button

2009-05-18T23:31:00.000-04:00

Yup - that's Geuel. About the most photogenic kid ever... In the playhouse at Sunnyside, happy as pappy...

We're horsing around, Lili's taking the pics. Trying to get Geuel to give a thumbs up. Why?

But eventually it works, and it's all he does for the rest of the day...

copper graveyard

2009-05-17T21:34:00.001-04:00

copper graveyard, originally uploaded by alldaydoodler.

Grenada, West Indies - Where old coppers go to die. The 'copper or 'taiche', made of cast iron, was used in sugar factories and rum distilleries to boil the sugar juice and evaporate off the water. the concentrated juice was either used to make sugar or fermented and distilled as rum. the repeated heating and cooling would eventually weaken the metal and cause it to crack, as these have...Grenada once had more than 100 sugar factories, so that makes for a lot of old coppers, now highly prized as garden ornaments....

Us in Anguilla

2009-05-15T17:28:00.001-04:00

Hey you guys! Well you all enthusiastically responded to my last post asking for more, so I'll continue let my blog email you whenever I add something to it. These are pictures from Anguilla over Easter weekend visiting Lili. Some persons(well, only one person) asked for pictures of us - as opposed to sea, sand and sun and moon...

As you will notice, Lili is in a making faces mode these days...I know, it is weird!

Where we stayed, the Ferryboat Inn, run by some friendly Anguillan - Trinidadians. We had a great view across the Sint Maarten and it was very homely. Especially when the a/c started leaking on me in the middle of the night...

This was at Barrel Stay, a too-expensive restaurant. Anguilla is possibly the most expensive backwater you'll find anywhere...

And at the restaurant at Ferryboat Inn.

This is on the beach at Cap Juluca, one of the fanciest hotels in the Caribbean. It was quite empty. The beach was amazing though.

2009-04-26T01:40:00.000-04:00

There's Chef Michael and the finshed work. Started with a lobster something and finished with a confit of duck. In-between there were palate cleansers and a mango sorbet for desert...

Valentine's Dinner - Spice of Life

2009-04-26T01:26:00.000-04:00

February 14th at Spice of Life. We asked Chef Michael to cook for us and he produced a feast. He also brought along a "drinksmaster" who was able to produce (from our own stocks), any manner of cocktail. We didn't have to lift a finger, everything was done by his capable assistants.

Window with a view

2009-04-25T16:08:00.001-04:00

View of Bathsheba from the roundhouse Restaurant in Barbados

"Fifth Dimension" Hibiscus

2009-04-24T17:11:00.001-04:00

Fifth Dimension Hibiscus, originally uploaded by alldaydoodler.

Unedited, taken at Sunnyside Garden, St. Paul's Grenada. Developed by one "Dr. Bertie" from Tobago...I think Hibiscus is definitely the Caribbean Rose

Leafy Greens

2009-04-24T15:20:00.001-04:00

Leafy Greens, originally uploaded by alldaydoodler.

Close of large leaves at Sunnyside. I find the patterns fascinating

Sunset halo at Blowing Point

2009-04-23T22:20:00.001-04:00

Sunset halo at Blowing Point, originally uploaded by alldaydoodler.

Sunset taken from the jetty at Blowing point, Anguilla BWI

Blowing Point, Anguilla

2009-04-23T22:14:00.001-04:00

Blowing Point, Anguilla
Originally uploaded by alldaydoodler

Night views from ferryboat Inn, with the moon rising over the harbour. Camera resting on a wall...

Jetty at Blowing Point

2009-04-23T22:12:00.001-04:00

Jetty at Blowing Point
Originally uploaded by alldaydoodler

This abandoned jetty at Blowing Point next to the Ferry harbour, was to be used as a dolphin attraction. The project was challenged in court by a local group who opposed the development, and apparently won. On the sand face down was a sign announcing the verdict of the court preventing any further development of the attraction. In the meantime the jetty remains, an eyesore.

Blowing Point

2009-04-23T22:01:00.001-04:00

Blowing Point
Originally uploaded by alldaydoodler

We arrive at Ferryboat Inn, at Blowing point. Anguilla is 15 miles long and very narrow, with 14,000 people. Blowing Point Harbour is the main port of entry for visitors, especially by ferry from St Maarten