I-IS-TIRED was the baby name

Soca Back In Times

I-IS-TIRED was the baby name

By EWALT AINSWORTH

I is tired – relaxing in  Ottawa, Canada.

A fortnight or 14-days or two weeks ago, myself and family gave ourselves a scholarship. This was a labba-labba-a-labba-labba scholarship where we went to Canada to say thanks to our friends and fans for fracking out our blogs and keeping track of things back in the yard.

We made stops in Hazelton PA, Scranton PA, Syracuse New York and Watertown where we also have ardent friends and followers.   Gracias my peoples.     

This scholarship was also essentially a road trip from our damishana outside of Trenton to the benabu (Amerindian word meaning meeting place of the family).    It took us approximately 18 hours to navigate 450 miles of warm embrace and camaraderie.  And   once we arrived we were given a cool down named VEX.  I never heard of the drink before and as a citizen of Guyana, nobody had to prompt me or give instructions;  I learnt a long time ago.. since Manhattan was boy-hattan, never to say no.  I like the PPP politicians.  Once is free, they does tek and tek and tek.  And so I had one drink, two drinks and three drinkses.  (I begin to sound like your president now after a few drinks).

I took one or more drinks so as to celebrate my coming over to the side of sobriety, confidentiality and plurality.  In Canada everybody knows your name and do not call it in vain.  In Guyana, if you hear your name, like a bullet from a gun, the person miss the target.

Guyana is no ordinary place; is share misses: mis-behaviors, mishandles, missing person mistakes, misdemeanors, miscreants, missives, misinformation, miscarriages misdeeds, misnomers and mysteries.

To date I have clocked approximately 180 published pieces in my blog and it was so nice to meet and commune and break roti and salt fish with some of the folks who made it possible even though, in a funny way, I does talk they dirty-story.  While on scholarship I also, for the first time in my life, became the owner of the new social ammunition…an umbrella chair.  I got mine at CANADIAN TIRE.  Also for the first time in my life I handled real plastic money.  Canadian dollars now come in plastic and it got a clear part where you can see THRU…see-true-money.  ASOMELYKAM.

I spent a calendar week in Ottawa and I never spent any four hours straight with my eyes closed.  While there we did brunch, we did lunch and frunch, we did dinners, we went outdoorsing and attended a dinner and dance.  Another time when my wife is not paying attention, I will give the low down about an Indian chic I invested in and interviewed for a story.  Dog that does suck egg don’t stop sucking egg.

I visited folks; folks visited me.  It was so pleasurable and pleasant to hear grown men and women talk about their new and improved living conditions in retirement.  Some displayed their hip-hugging talking devices that never rang, not even once.  And to see men in their kitchen gardens pruning their fruit trees. The metric of a well pruned tree seems to be to dash a cat right thru it without hitting itself boy.   I also heard about the metrics of poverty and how if you live within a 200-mile radius from where your food is grown you are poor and if you not on Facebook, you are destined for oblivion.    Talk half – leff half

Another woman told me about her pet story CRYFUS.  Mine is  FAR APART MEK OCHRA DRY A TREE   but you know Guyanese types, if they say  CRYFUS is they favorite, I TWO FACE…I SAY YES ONE TIME.

And then the conversation heat up and became more general and generous.  Somebody else talk about their nephew and niece.  Someone talked about a family named MARVIN.  Marvin went to City Hall in GT one morning just so and change he name.  He does not seem to understand “what is going on” and in tribute to American R&B singer Marvin Gaye, the comrade change he name.

I know of a family whose son changed his afro-centric name to JARRED.  Perhaps he wanted to name himself JARRAT because of his mixed blood but I know how the mother will not be kosher about that.  Let sleeping dogs lie.

And then again another person talk about their favorite neighbor, who came to the Diaspora seven years ago and on the 7th of July, gave birth to her 7th child.   Apparently she did not do so well after giving birth and in her post traumatic state, whispered I-IS-TIRED…one word.   I-IS-TIRED is now on a ventilator and still in hospital and the mother cannot believe is not butter.  She is planning to sue but some cooler heads are advising that she could simply go to city hall and for a few dollars, make the change.

And in the year or so of my blog I was able to re-unite and re-connect with folks like Edwin Moses, War-Boots (Gerald Alleyne), Percy, Goatie, Anne Marie Robinson,  Joan Marsh,  Janet, Sherwood Huntley, Keith Smith, Osafo Odinga and Kwes Oginga. I get the perception that they are all in good physical shape and mis-behaving well.

I did not find them; they found me cause I-IS-TIRED.  Not tired-tired  in the strict sense of the word but not too happy for one thing or another.

Jeggae was telling me overnight about the death of his co-musician, soiritual organist and friend, Winston Woolford-Drakes.  Apparently, Winston like him, shares the same first names.  They also live in the same community and both are musical experts and musical exponents separately.  They collate regularly and specialize in spiritual attributes and tributes.  Jeggae is visibly shaken by his partner’s death but ent saying much.

Last weekend too, a Jamaican friend had an outdoorsing activity….a barbecue.   Nice people, nice food and plenty labba-labba-a-labba-labba.  And then the rains came and we moved on and tried making another party just as rhythmic and exciting. .  A handful of us moved to a mac-mansion in a neighboring suburb.  Nice house with a full sized basement, chandelier and seven self contained rooms and ‘7-and-a-half baths.’  The extra half bath was not a shower or a toilet but a walk-in medicine press with seven different psycho-illogical treatment prescriptions/plans.   And during the wash-down session one of the guys of Indian heritage made the observation that “we could make some money.”  The business proposal was to use my friend’s 40,000 square foot home as a rest place for some girls he ships be-weekly to Kuwait and Dubai.

My friend who was jolly and happy barbecuing and providing drinks suddenly got tired and sleepy.  He did not ask us to leave but that was the polite thing to do.

On that note, I-IS-TIRED too and not about to give up or go to bed but simply hope that in the next year it should not be about tries we had but the times we shared in spite of the challenges, real and perceived.

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One response to this post.

  1. Posted by Colin Gaskin on July 13, 2012 at 2:20 am

    Waltie you have a hit on our hands. I am enjoying the lyrics and I craft this brief response. Your commentary is on point as well as entertaining.

    Reply

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