Caressing Culture

Why is it that we wait until our adult lives to realize that our culture is who we are? Though I may not have shown it I never really had to look far to know who I was or who I wanted to be.

Caribbean culture so rich, so thick, so intense. I grew up in that culture, I grew up knowing to greet the elders, that respect was key. Knowing that simply saying yes mam or no sir, or even please and thank you were the root of a person’s being.

Respect for others bring respect for self.

I caress culture. I own up to the life of a Caribbean princess. The roots, the skills and the faith instilled in me by my family and my community.

I always remember my mother or the elders saying that it takes a village to raise a child.

It didn’t take my village but I was always well taken care of. Always scolded by the women I called aunts, and reported by the men I called uncle. Not even blood relatives, yet out of respect I know they were true to me.

Now as an adult, I sit back and think about those days when I would play in the streets with the boys and play skip with my neighbour. Now the little boys sit with the men and help them fix motorbikes and engage in conversations not ideal for their age groups.

I know that the quadrille and the Jing ping all seemed worthless to me “back in the day”, but today my foot taps just at the beat of a one-man drum band. The zouk and the kompas make me sweat as I dance in circles all by myself. But it’s my culture.

Bush teas and remedies seemed like nonsense.”What stupid bush water is that?” Sick times made me wish I had a cup of basalic or some peppermint or just any herb. The naturalists say you can cure anything with an herb and now I believe them.

Realization of the worth of a Caribbean man came late. It waited until I travelled across the waters to ignorant remarks from ‘BOYS’ like “how did you get here?” to “do you wear shoes?” and ‘’what language do you speak?” to realize that a Caribbean man is nowhere near ignorant. The worth of a Caribbean man is one that I definitely wouldn’t mind banking.

Mansions of Rastafari were simply a myth to me when I was a child; living in the island and not even paying attention to the fastest growing religion on the island. Today the Rastafarian faith makes so much sense.

Thepeace that they bring even when provoked. It’s the “fake” Rastas that got me realizing that I didn’t caress the love of JAH.

The Mississippi Rasta men who grew locks because they thought it was hot because they thought they could look like T-pain. It doesn’t work that way. Today I respect the Rastafarian’s. I respect their culture, their habits and their followers. I believe that if I caress them any more I may just become a Rasta woman.

Fig and dasheen, I can hear some of you saying “what’s that?” or “eww” – that used to be me. Caressing the natural life allowed and provided by the islands brought about a new meaning to the foods.

KFC and McDonald’s? NO! That’s JUNK and GARBAGE – chemicals and man-made products. Jah didn’t put that on earth to be eaten. He made the animals and the ground provisions for a reason.

I have learnt, after 21 years, to caress my culture. I caress and I understand. I caress and I try to teach the values that I have learnt to the young, trying to turn around a generation of “bad man” and “gangsters”. Maybe just my one little “Hi how are you?” can provoke that mindset and turn them around. I can only hope.

But who am I? I waited this late to Caress MY CULTURE.

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7 Comments

  1. m g raphael in San Diego.
    October 29, 2010

    this is sooo nice

  2. ND
    October 28, 2010

    LOVE this Article, Speaks Volumes. Its so true, Everyday I live here abroad, I realize the intelligence of the Caribbean Man, and his awareness of the world he lives in.

  3. Watcher
    October 27, 2010

    Nice article Arlene.

  4. Paix Bouche Denzel
    October 27, 2010

    This is Paix Bouche Denzel Washington

  5. MangoSweet
    October 27, 2010

    Great perspective. I guess there will come a time when many of those young persons who, influenced by the outside cultures (outside of Dominica, and outside of the region) will appreciate our indegenous folk culture. When Cadence music burst on the scene in the 1970s, I do not recall any hew and cry about the lyrical content of the songs – though there were a few popular ones with double-meanings.. (An mem tou-a; Annie, ba mwen bagay-la… are just two examples). Today some of our songs’ lyrics are more raw and overly suggestive. One wonders how those persons who penned such songs will feel in the next 10 years.

  6. My two cents
    October 27, 2010

    I love this article. More so because I can relate to the very fabric of its content. being away from home make me too identify with my culture more. I too will try to assist in the preservation of OUR Dominican / Caribbean culture.

    Si Se puede!!!

  7. gwen
    October 27, 2010

    very nice article, need to be read and implemented by more. I personally will take a leaf of this article and imply it my own way. Thanks for the memories and the reminder.

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