calm confusion

I walked into my first meeting ready to impress. There sat six ladies of varying ages all waiting to get started. I took my seat, opened my notebook and pen in hand, I looked up expectantly. "Oh God allyuh eh go believe what happen to meh last nite !" Puzzled, I turned to look at the speaker. She seemed very distressed, yet no one jumped to help her. "I was looking at my vagina in meh hand mirror last night and it getting old! If you see wrinkle!" I balked... "I hear yuh deary.. dat happened to mine about 15 years ago.. wait till it start to get dry and scabby, then yuh go see action! Even more puzzled now I put down my pen as I was quite sure how to take notes. " dat remind meh .. ah hava good story fuh allyuh " Expectant faces turned towards the speaker... "Well for my honeymoon night I decided to test out the diaphragm. And you know back then it was new and not many people were using it yet. But we had it in the clinic so I wanted to ...

"Ms Hosein " "Yes?" "It hava man dong here who want to talk to yuh " "Who is he..?" "Look I eh no nah, buh .." "Well find out ." ringgggggg ! "Ms Hosein " "Yes" "Ah send him up." " Deron !" knock knock! " Amm come in." "You is Ms Hosein ?" "Yes" "I is Mr Elliot. De parang man." "Oh Mr Elliot! How are you? Please sit down." Having seated Mr Elliot, on the only free chair in my office, I proceeded to pull up my Christmas file. I had been looking for a parang band for over a month and Mr Elliot came highly recommended by Esther across the road. Turning to Mr Elliot, I asked him how much his fee would be for the afternoon. He looked at me with a slight grin and said, "Well, ah did really want ah free check up in return yuh know!" "OK.. well I am not a nurse but I can take you down to the clinic if you like, is it your pros...

I sat there staring at them for quite a while. I really couldn't help it as they sat there staring right back at me. My first thought was to run. Grab my handbag, whip out the car keys, jump in de Lancer and zoom back down the highway. Lord knows why didn't, but when a plastic vagina and a rubber penis are perched delicately on the desk of your new job, you tend to think irrationally. So I sat staring for quite a while. A nurse came into my office, dropped off some papers, mentioned something about a meeting and without so much as a glance at my company, she waltzed right back out the door. I glanced around my new office and wondered what I was going to make of this job. It certainly wasn't banking and it most definitely was not the Trinidad Guardian. What it was, it seemed, was an adventure about to start. I smiled and picked up my new penis. Wobbling a bit, it seemed to represent my future. The vagina, sitting quietly on my desk made a little sound as if to say, "...

Running my fingers along the spines of the newly placed, highly polished books of Borders, I imagine what it was like when they were being written. Did the author of "If Chins could Kill", have the same all consuming need to change mankind as Jane Austin did when she was writing "Pride and Prejudice"? I have yet to find a great collection of West Indian authors on shelves here. Every now and then a random copy of one of Niapaul's books appears and I get thrills. But in no corner, not even in the well worn carpeted aisle of Foreign Publications, or even the weed induced coma aisle of Weird and Unknown Publications, will I find a beloved tale I long for. And it shits me to tears. Yes we are a million miles away from the Caribbean Sea, but if you can have a copy of Gun, With Occasional Music, why not some selections from Walcott or Kincaid? Because we black.. mother ass... wait I see Mandela's bio here though... so it must be because we blasted black! I g...