Monthly Archives: March 2013

Reflections on Easter Sunday

31 Sunday Mar 2013

Posted by in Relationships, Religion

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Kite Flying at Eater in GuyanaKite Flying at Easter – Interior of Guyana

Photo by James Broscombe 2010 (jmbroscombe.blogspot.com)

 

Easter Sunday. Christians across the United States and around the world celebrate the resurrection of Jesus Christ, three days after his death by crucifixion. In Guyana, the sky above the coastline vibrates with colorful kites of all shapes and sizes.

Growing up in a working class family in a British colony, I connected with Jesus’ life and world. He, too, came from the working class and lived in a country ruled by the foreign power of his day: the Roman Empire.

Accounts of Jesus’ teachings and work in the gospels of the New Testament reveal a man fearless in criticizing the excesses, self-righteousness, vanity, and hypocrisy of religious leaders in his community. They chided Jesus for mixing with bad-johns, women of ill-repute, people of other religions; and for disregarding their religious dictates. Through his actions, He made it clear that his mission was to serve the weak, broken, harassed, dejected, outcast, lost, abandoned, sick, and poor.

When his enemies brought to him a woman caught in adultery, a crime punishable by stoning to death, Jesus did not fall for their trickery. He made one request. The person who was free of guilt should throw the first stone. After the woman’s accusers walked away one by one, He did not lambaste her. Go home, He told her. Stop making such bad choices.

Jesus’ teachings continue to resonate with me. He advocated that we love our neighbors as we love ourselves. A tough one that is. My neighbor might be a rapist, wife-beater, pedophile, drug dealer, pimp, thief… My list of undesirable neighbors is long. Life is complicated enough when relating with those I love.

As to loving myself? That poses another challenge. I grew up with parents who fought constantly with each other. If love existed, I could not sense it. It took me years to learn to love myself with all my failings and weaknesses. Only then could I begin to accept and love others with their own frailties.

As an adolescent, it shocked me that a good person like Jesus could be rejected, betrayed, and executed. Goodness repaid with evil intent. As an adult, I learned that this is the reality of our day-to-day lives, even when dealing with decent people.

It heartened me to learn that after Jesus’ death, his disciples overcame their fear of also facing execution, and came out of hiding. They carried on Jesus’ mission, declaring that He had risen from the dead. Persecution, imprisonment, and death did not deter them. Love had conquered fear. Love had prevailed. The life, work, and teachings of Jesus of Nazareth – a small village on the fringes of the Roman Empire – spread across the world and have endured to this day.

Easter Sunday reminds me that love will prevail wherever and whenever Darkness wields its iron fists. Today, my soul soars high with the kites over Guyana’s cities, towns, and villages.

The Cashew Tree: Lessons in Facing Adversity

24 Sunday Mar 2013

Posted by in Brazil, Nature and the Environment

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Largest Cajueiro in the World - Natal - BrazilWorld’s Largest Cashew Tree – Natal – Northeast Brazil

Source: braziltravelbuddy.com

Trees have always fascinated me. In my native land, Guyana, fruit trees abound and flowering trees lined the main avenues of our capital, Georgetown. They beautified our city and brightened my life. Before I was born, their robust trunks had withstood the forces of Nature. They will continue to stand tall and radiant long after I have passed away.

When we moved to Fortaleza (CE), I fell in love with the cashew tree: o cajueiro (ka-ju-ay-ru). Native of Northeast Brazil, it flourished in the hot tropical climate and sandy soils of the region – responsible for over 95 percent of the nation’s cashew production. They are cultivated commercially for the production of cashew nuts, one of the major exports of the State of Ceará to the United States. The shape, vivid colors, and nut of the caju (ka-ju) became a new fascination. The pseudo-fruit made a delicious juice rich in vitamin C, calcium, phosphorous, and iron.

Cashew Fruit and Nut - BrazilCashew Hanging from Tree (Source: afe.com.br)

Most of the cashew trees in our condominium rose to only two stories high. About twenty feet away from our third-floor apartment stood the largest cajueiro, four stories tall. During our early years, the tree seemed stunted: little foliage and no fruit. On sleepless nights, I would stand at my bedroom window and look out onto the still, quiet night. The cajueiro was my only companion: a witness to my desperation after I was left alone to raise my sons in a foreign country. Although it no longer bore fruit, the cajueiro stood tall and strong. If I were to succeed in providing for myself and sons, I had to remain grounded; to stand tall and strong.

Time passed. When afflicted and broken, I observed the cajueiro with its scanty crown. It reminded me that, when faced with obstacles and setbacks, I had to focus on building fortitude for survival and on developing as a professional.

Then one year, a miracle happened. A deluge inundated the canals and streets of drought-prone Fortaleza. The cajueiro came to life. New leaves and blossoms sprouted. Over the following years, its crown filled out and expanded. Fruit adorned its limbs.  Boisterous birds moved in.

The cajueiro extended its limbs towards my window, providing a curtain of foliage outside my window. During the caju season, I could reach out and pick the ripe fruit that hung within my reach.

I, too, had grown: as a mother, provider, and professional. When the opportunity arose for a better position, I was ready to move forward.

The Next Big Thing Blog Hop!

20 Wednesday Mar 2013

Posted by in Fiction

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The Next Big Thing

For those of you who follow my weekly blog posts on Sundays, this is a special post in response to an invitation from my writing friend, Rachel Olivier, who recently tagged me in a writer’s blog tagging called The Next Big Thing Blog Hop. The intention is to get readers interested in our next book in the making. Rachel and I worked together at the Miracle Mile Writers Club. She has played an important role in my journey as a writer. I enjoy her work and know that her next big thing, a modern take on Cinderella, will have some unexpected twists, thrills, and hard truths.

According to the regulations of this Blog Hop, I have to answer the following ten questions about my Next Big Thing. Here goes:

  1. What is the title of your work-in-progress? Under the Tamarind Tree
  2. Where did the idea come from? My response to the question: What had I done in life to deserve being thrice abandoned by people I love?
  3. What genre does your book come under? Mainstream fiction
  4. Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie? I leave that task to casting experts. When I went in search of faces for my characters, I chose pictures of regular people I found online.
  5. One sentence synopsis for your book. A man’s atonement for the deaths of his mother and eight-year-old brother.
  6. Will your book be self-published, published by an independent publisher or represented by an agency? I would like to be represented by an agency.
  7. How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript? Four years
  8. What other books would you compare this story to within your genre? Caribbean literature. It is set in pre- and post-independent Guyana:  a period (1950-1970) marred by racial violence.
  9. Who or what inspired you to write this book? My reunion with my mother after 31 years of separation was a tsunami in my life. She was not the mother I had known and loved. During a year of soul-searching, I began writing as a form of therapy.
  10. What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest? The main characters are people readers will come to love, despise or hate. They are not only capable of great sacrifice and generosity in times of crises, but also reveal traits of vindictiveness, jealousy, betrayal, infidelity, deception, despair, brutality, and even murder.

During the course of writing my novel, I learned that those we love can reject or abandon us when we fail to fulfill their expectations of us. We lose our value or importance. Such is the nature of conditional love. Richard B. Cheong, protagonist of Under the Tamarind Tree, learns this the hard way.

Now comes the part where I should tag another writer. Regrettably, the three writers I contacted prefer not to participate. If you are a writer and would like to share your writing project through this media, please feel free to tag yourself and take this forward. We are writers promoting our work and the work of other writers.

 

The Plight of America’s Low-Wage Workers

17 Sunday Mar 2013

Posted by in Social Injustice, United States, Working Life

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Wal-Mart Workers on Strike - December 2012

Behind the strikes at Wal-Mart, McDonald’s, ports, 5 December 2012

Source: current.com/community

 

On 13 March 2013, the Roman Catholic College of Cardinals elected a new head of the Church. Pope Francis I is the first South American pope. His choice of name is noteworthy. Saint Francis of Assisi, founder of the Franciscan Order, had embraced a life of poverty and championed the poor. Pope Francis expressed his desire for a poor church that serves the poor. As Archbishop of Buenos Aires, Argentina, he shunned the luxuries granted him for a more simple life.

Does this mean that the new pope will address the plight of low-wage workers and inequality worldwide?

On 12 February 2013, in his State of the Union address, President Obama called for an increase in the federal hourly minimum wage from $7.25, in effect since July 2009, to $9.00. Democrats in the House of Representatives called for an increase to $10.10. Mind you, not all low-wage workers in the private sector receive the current minimum wage for their labor.

On 15 March 2013, while eyes were focused on Rome and the new pope, all Republicans in the House rejected the minimum wage increase.

The Republican who led the opposition said:  “We need jobs out there. The best approach right now is to get federal spending under control and government out of the way of the nation’s job creators.” (UPI business news)

His remarks remind me of the chicken-and-the-egg conundrum. Which comes first? When workers earn more, they spend more. Businesses grow with more sales and – under normal circumstances – hire more workers to attend to the demand. But these are not normal times. While profits soar for large corporations, low-wage workers remain mired in poverty. To better grasp the degree of inequality in the United States, I recommend that you watch the video (duration 6:12 minutes), “Wealth Inequality in America.”

As a former low-wage worker in the retail industry, I know how difficult it is to get a steady forty-hour work-week. Hours vary from week to week: sometimes as little as twenty hours or less. To make ends meet, several of my associates also held one to two other part-time jobs. I marveled at a supervisor who came in early for the morning shift; worked in the afternoon at a supermarket; and then later became a bartender at a night club.

With the steady decline of labor unions, who will defend millions of low-wage workers in the retail, food, and service industries when our government is unwilling to lead the way by establishing a livable minimum wage?

One-day flash strikes at fast-food businesses in New York City and at Wal-Mart stores around the country indicate that low-wage workers can no longer bear the burden of providing us with meals, goods, and services at low prices, everyday. With the support of local community-based organizations, they are finding new ways to demand attention for their plight.

Can we, as consumers, go on supporting businesses that amass wealth while their workers survive on government food stamps and other community assistance?

 

Workers’ Woes in Brazil

10 Sunday Mar 2013

Posted by in Brazil, Social Injustice, Working Life

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Bus Strike in Rio de Janeiro - Brazil - March 2013Bus strike in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, affects 3 million people – 1 March 2013  Source: noticias.bol.uol.com.br

 

As a non-union worker and mother of two school-age children, I resented bus drivers and conductors when they went on strike. Like other workers who depended on public transport to get to work and get our children to school, I had to suffer the consequences of their collective action for better wages and working conditions. What about my right to get to work?

As an import-export manager, strikes at the ports posed other hassles. When dock workers or customs officials went on strike, import and export goods sat at the port awaiting clearance or shipment. Didn’t they care that they were affecting businesses and other workers?

Brazilian Dock Workers on Strike - Santos Port - Sao Paulo30 Thousand dock workers at Brazilian ports strike in protest against MP 595  22 February 2013 – São Paulo – Brazil

While I resented and complained about workers who went on strike, I realized how privileged they were to have a labor union defending their rights. When faced with exploitation in the workplace, the rest of us had one of two options: leave the company or suck it up. With little chance of finding another position during a recession with high unemployment rates, as was the case in the late 1990s in Brazil, there was really only one option.

At the pinnacle of Ceará Importers’ success, our warehouse workers often faced long working days unloading containers, stocking goods, and getting them out to the company’s wholesalers and retail stores.  Shipments of up to four containers were manageable. Until the day ten containers lined up along the street outside our business premises.

The Warehouse Manager stood beside me at the gate to watch the arrival of the container trucks. “It’s going to be a long night,” he told me. “No one is going home until we unload all the containers and add the goods to our stock.”

It took four days and four nights.

On the morning of the fourth day, a warehouse worker came to me for help. “We’ve worked three days straight with only one to two hours of sleep. We’re tired. Ask Doutor Ricardo* to let us go home early today.”

I promised to talk to Doutor Ricardo, the company’s Administrator.

“Don’t tell him I asked,” the young father of two children said. “I can’t lose my job.”

Doutor Ricardo viewed me with suspicion when I made my request. When asked, I refused to divulge the employee’s name.

“The workers are not your concern,” he told me. “Do your work and let me do mine.”

I retreated. I could not afford to lose my job. Openings in my line of work were also scarce and the competition fierce.

When business owners enjoy an excess supply of labor and their employees are afraid to refuse working extra hours for fear of losing their jobs, they have no need to hire additional staff and incur a rise in their operational costs.

Who was I to advocate fair treatment of our most vulnerable employees?  As a non-union worker, I had to concede that labor unions play a vital role in protecting the rights of workers without a voice.

* Fictitious name

 

International Women’s Day 2013: Remembering Kowsilla of Leonora

03 Sunday Mar 2013

Posted by in Guyana, Social Injustice

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Kowsilla - Leonora - British GuianaKowsilla of Leonora (1920-1964) – Guyana

Source: Article by Vanessa Narine (www.angelfire.com)

I learned about Kowsilla, also known as Alice, while researching Guyana’s history (1950 to 1970) for my first novel, Under the Tamarind Tree. Her involvement in the sugar workers’ struggle for better working and living conditions and her final act of courage on 6 March 1964 at Plantation Leonora made an enduring impression on me.

Leonora, located on the West Coast Demerara, got its name from two Dutch children, Leo and Nora, during the days of Dutch occupation before the British took control of the colony in 1786.

On 6 March 1964 during a general sugar workers strike, Kowsilla was among the men and women who formed a human barricade by squatting on the bridge leading to Leonora’s factory gate. In so doing, they prevented African scabs, hired by the factory manager, from entering the factory to work.

Following instructions from the factory manager, an African scab set out in a tractor to disperse the squatters. The details of what happened next are lost in time. Several squatters jumped off the bridge into the punt trench. Fourteen of them were severely injured.

Based on the severity of their injuries, Kowsilla and two other women – Jagdai and Daisy Sookram – defied the onslaught. Kowsilla’s body was severed in two. Jagdai and Daisy suffered broken spines. Kowsilla died on the way to the Georgetown Public Hospital. Jagdai and Daisy survived but remained crippled for life.

We know little about Kowsilla. Born in 1920 in Seafield, Leonora, of poor, hard working parents, she bore four children and worked as a huckster to provide for them. An activist for improving the lives of women within her community, she became Leonora’s leader of the Women’s Progressive Organization (WPO), formed in 1953 by the wife of Dr. Cheddi Jagan – Premier of British Guiana (1961-1964) and President of Guyana (1992-1997).

Forty-four-year-old Kowsilla must have known the danger of defying the sugar plantation owners when she left home that Friday morning in March 1964. As leader of the WPO in Leonora, she must have stood up in the center forefront on hearing and seeing the tractor approach. What went through her mind as she faced the African scab worker at the wheel of the tractor?

I hear the tractor driver shouting at them: “You-all ain’t hear what the Boss-man say? Get off the blasted bridge before somebody get hurt.”

East Indian and African workers were both pawns in the hands of the sugar barons.

“Don’t budge,” I hear Kowsilla tell Jagdai and Daisy, standing on either side. “We can’t let the rich man thief we children-them future.”

In defying the corporate powers of her time, Kowsilla made the ultimate sacrifice in giving her life. In choosing not to yield, she taught us not to let fear trap us in a life of corporate servitude. Freedom from greed and tyranny requires sacrifice.

Alice Street - Seafield - LeonoraAlice Street in Seafield – Leonora – West Coast Demerara – Guyana

Named in honor of Kowsilla a.k.a. Alice

Source: www.guyana.org