Photographed taken from Island of Montserrat
Your grey rock stone body awash with
Wild berries, purple, blue flowers, shrubs
Defy mother nature
Cemented in the dirt yard
Unmoved, over a rock ledge
As the goats tether
-
From a crack through the window
Paved that hard finality
Behold the village that raised you
Held in the crevices of the valley
Yet a glimpse of the mountain you see
-
Now I remember my teenage years
Filled with bible verses you fed me
As you felt for the hallowed pages
Your chanted incantations
Echoed in every room
That old wooden house
The wrap-around porch
-
Tears stung as it did that day
Proud to have known you
We knew nothing of how we would say adieu
They read your last will and testament
Before they left you that day
In the graveyard so all can hear
I was too young to understand
The earth must have shaken
The dust filled their eyes
-
Today I wore you like vermilion
I sit and recall the meaning of that day
I mourn, my throat tightens
My ear rings
Listen,
The birds fly freely as they sing
Your love mirrors my very essence.
-
Poem written by Brenda L. McCartney
Have you ever looked at an elderly person’s face and it seemed to express and capture something from the soul? Looking at the picture above, a lady is wearing a scarf on her head. It is almost as if the way she wears the covering on her head is representative of her resilience. According to the Oxford reference dictionary elderly is defines as “somewhat old, a person pass middle age.”
The elderly often have an intensity on their face that transports you into their world. To me it as if I would like to sit and relax as they recollect on their childhood memories and reveal their stories of survival, Compatriot Journalist Rose Willock once said “the elderly tells us how to get on with and deal with adversities [of life and] teaches us to celebrate what is good and true about us a people” For me the elderly represent refinement and are crucibles of our past.
Painted washes
Close up
Far off
Strong Bold
The images; life and work
Illuminates like a red light bulb
Scaled up
A chronicled history
Woven into my world
-
Poem Written by Brenda L. McCartney
Photographed by Susan Koster
Have you ever looked at an elderly person’s face and it seemed to express and capture something from your soul? Looking at the picture above, a lady is wearing a scarf on her head. It is almost as if the way she wears the covering on her head is representative of her resilience. According to the Oxford reference dictionary elderly is defined as “somewhat old, a person pass middle age.”
The elderly often have an intensity on their face that transports you into their world. To me it is as if I would like to sit and relax as they recollect their childhood memories and reveal their stories of survival. Compatriot Journalist Rose Willock once said “the elderly tells us how to get on with and deal with adversities [of life and] teaches us to celebrate what is good and true about us a people.” For me the elderly represent refinement and are crucibles of our past.
Painted washes
Close up
Far off
Gives certain poise
Strong, Bold
The images; life and work
Illuminates like a red light bulb
Scaled up
A chronicled history
Woven into my world
-
Poem by Brenda L. McCartney
I grew up with my maternal grandparents. Life with my grandparents has taught me so many things. It has taught me the love of family, the importance of embracing others and most of all taking a stand for something I believe in. My grandparents were always there to encourage me by doing things such as showing up to my parent teachers meeting and selecting the company I kept.
“Grandparents are our continuing tie to the near-past, to the events and beliefs and experiences that so strongly affect our lives and the world around us.’ Today I make special mention of the lady that has mentored me on what would have been her eighty seventh birthday. To paraphrase the words Corinthians thanks be to God for the indescribable gift of a grandmother. Below is poem taken from my book LeAp dedicated to my mama.
Seven Stanzas from Mama
I
Bayside born
With seaside spray
Fishing, sewing
Playing every day in the sand
School days left happily
Married life brought foreign land
(Nevis then off to mother land)
Married life brought foreign land
All of which brought shop, bus, business and progeny
II
Smell the oven bread is baking
Sanka Coffee Breakfast making
Mountain calls foul awakes and cock crows
To the market we will go
Loaves for sale, prices low
Cassava , dasheen, pigeon peas, sweet potato make them grow
III
Early rising before dawn
Watch hog, sheep, and goat with horn
To the fields to graze
Off they go
Make sure in by six
Better lock the pen or get some licks
IV
Shop opens and they come
Milk, sausage, eggs sold one by one
Scoop the flour by the pound
Make sure drop none on the ground
Sweet oil, sugar cake, cheese and bread make sure cover
Salt fish, sold with onion if you buy one must buy the other
V
Raising children
Watch them grow, then grandchildren
Off they go
Making proud hearts stand tall
See what God has done for them all
Off they go
Off they go
VI
I will watch on though I go
Friends I will miss you so
Blood carries on with love
Through it all
Through the ashes and the storm
Wishing gladness every morn
Ever bright
Waking, walking singing with delight
VII
My descendents come do not cry
I have risen to the skies
To my Jesus Lord I come
All my work on earth is done
Water reflection
Mountain trees
Calming wind
And blowing breeze
Every time you see or hear
Remember me there.
-
Poem taken from LeAp – A Collection of poems by Brenda L. McCartney
Photographed by Anthony Asael
The term ‘school bruk up’ was a term that we used every summer to mean ‘school is on break.’ At one time I literally thought they had to break down the structure and rebuild it then later I learned the actual meaning. It was the hurricane season but hurricanes never came until September or after.
Looking back at the end of the term in Primary (Elementary) School all students/pupils were happy and looked forward after exams to the two months holiday. Officially this time of the year all schools in the Caribbean are on holiday; the commencement exercises, the speech days, the prize giving ceremonies have all climaxed. Children looked forward to going away to spend holidays with their relatives on the islands or the United States or explore their own island. The ones who remained home looked forward to Vacation Bible School, the mango season or simply to have adventures up and down the river; to catch Cray fish or play games like we were Huckle Berry Finn and Tom Sawyer.
A treat for me was to visit my Aunt in another village and spend most of my summer with her and meet other cousins from her village.
Sometimes my excitement of sharing summer with my cousins was short lived as I had an Aunt who loved telling her children the night before they were due to travel take down their suitcases because they were going away the next day. I vividly remember my cousins protesting. I lived in the country looked forward to going to town often with my aunt, godmother or grandmother. I also look forward to play lawn tennis as my aunt had a tennis court among many other treats. ( I still have what is left of my Arthur Ashe Tennis Racket from back then.)
Another memory was visiting my paternal side of the family and getting to know them. I recall my grandfather milking the cows, whisking the cake batter by hand and my grandmother baking or preparing a meal for someone who did not have it. My brother always had to visit some relative or friend of my paternal grandmother to carry some of the delicious treats she prepared. Sometimes he had to walk or take a bus. I am so blessed to have her as my only living grandparent. (She just celebrated her 94th birthday.)
Another highlight of the summer as well was to go to the Village Post Office. The interesting thing about attending the Post Office was that all the people in the village gathered around a particular time when the postman was expected. When the postman came we all assembled outside a house they would call the mail out one by one. If any mail came for your family or even you, you had to say loudly “please pass it.” Of course the children would always go to Post Office about an hour before roll call to meet up with one another and play roundus, cricket or doge ball in the road; and of course we were always interrupted by traffic. (Traffic on the island is not like how it is now in the busy streets.) We were so thankful when the postman was late so we could have extra time to play. Occasionally we would go to beach as a treat but under the supervision of a trusted adult – maybe an out of town relative who was visiting.
We may have not had much but we did not know that then because we enjoyed every moment of life and the experience of summer was such a joy.
Looking back at it we should live free as children and enjoy the simple things in life.
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