I am Not I: The Life of Trefossa

It’s hard for me to imagine a language or dialect without a word for “freedom,” yet this was the situation that Henri Frans de Ziel, alias Trefossa (1916-1975), faced when he began his writing career in Suriname.

In the moving and well-researched documentary, I am Not I, filmmaker Ida Does recounts the life of Trefossa, who for most of his life seemed to be constrained by race, culture, and the influence of his mother, yet ironically he is best known composing Suriname's National Anthem, coining the word, Srefidensi [translated freedom or autonomy], and for publishing a book of poems, Trotji, in Sranan Tongo, the colloquial language of Suriname.

Beginning with his humble origins, the film traces Trefossa’s circuitous journey from his birth in Paramaribo, Suriname and subsequent travels to the Netherlands, his return to Suriname and his death in Haarlem, the Netherlands. The documentary also uses extensive interviews with his sister, Hilda de Ziel; Mavis Noordwijk, a family friend; Richenel Ritfeld, a former student, and his widow, Hulda Walser to capture their obvious pride at the gift that Trefossa had given his compatriots: verse composed in the "Surinamean tongue”—an achievement similar in intent to Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales.

Although this revolutionary act of daring to speak in the mother tongue had an immediate impact on many of Trefossa’s contemporaries, he remained a man in conflict with his culture and times—at once impatient and forgiving. Yet sometimes, like in the poem, “Gronmama [Earthmother],” he demonstrates an ecological/symbiotic awareness of the land that has yet to permeate the consciousness of Caribbean peoples:

Gronmama

I am not myself

until my blood

is infused with you

in all of my veins

I am not myself

until my roots

sink down, shoot

into you, my earthmother,

I am not myself

until I manage

to keep, to carry

your image in my soul

I am not myself

until you cry out

with pleasure, or pain

in my voice

I am not I is a gorgeous film and its sensual cinematography captures the beauty of Suriname that Trefossa described in his poems. As Back Lot Film Festival states, “The film is one big poem, so beautiful that it leaves you speechless."


Give thanks to Ida Does and Interakt for giving me a chance to preview this remarkable documentary.

***

Related articles by Zemanta

• Permission to Speak: Anton Nimblett (geoffreyphilp.blogspot.com)

Happy Grandparents' Day 2009!

What better way to celebrate Grandparents Day?




Happy Grandparents' Day!

***

Grandparents Day Activities for Kids

National Grandparents' Day

Praise for Grandpa Sydney's Anancy Stories

Jamaica Observer: Geoffrey Philp's Anancy Stories

The Daily Gleaner: Review of Grandpa Sydney's Anancy Stories

*** For Educators, Librarians & Community Leaders

You can buy Grandpa Sydney's Anancy Stories @ Mabrak Books

***

Bad T'ings Mek Joke: Jamaican Humor

An elderly Jamaican man lay dying in his bed. While suffering the agonies of impending death, he suddenly smelled the aroma of his favorite Jamaican pastry, Gizzada, wafting up the stairs. He gathered his remaining strength, and lifted himself from the bed. Leaning against the wall, he slowly made his way out of the bedroom, and with even greater effort, gripping the railing with both hands, he crawled downstairs. With labored breath, he leaned against the doorframe, gazing into the kitchen.

Were it not for death's agony, he would have thought himself already in heaven, for there, spread out upon waxed paper on the kitchen table were literally dozens of Gizzadas.

Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of heroic love from his devoted wife of sixty years, seeing to it that he left this world a happy man? Mustering one great final effort, he threw himself towards the table, landing on his knees in a rumpled posture. His parched lips parted, the wondrous taste of the Gizzada was already in his mouth, seemingly bringing him back to life.

The aged and withered hand trembled on its way to a Gizzada at the edge of the table, when it was suddenly smacked with a 'dutch-pot' by his wife......

"Move yu back-side," she said, "Dem ya a fe you nine-nite!"

There is something quintessentially Jamaica in this joke that I suspect some North American readers, even if they got past the language, would not understand or even think was funny—it transgresses political correctness that attempts to shield us from harsh realities. Others would recoil in horror: how could the death of a spouse be funny? But the more I think about the joke, the more I howl and hold my belly—as I am sure many other Jamaicans are doing. For only a people who have endured the Middle Passage, slavery, and colonialism could have the resiliency to find humor in the dukkhas of life.

And isn’t that the essence of humor? As the Yiddish writer Romain Gary (somewhere there is a paper that should be written about the similarities between Yiddish and Caribbean literature) once said, “Humor is an affirmation of dignity, a declaration of man’s superiority to all that befalls him.” Or as we say, "Tek kin teet kibba heart bu'n"

Yet, this kind of gallows humor is not particular to Jamaica. In fact, in the Eastern Caribbean the comical banter, picong, that is played out in the streets and in calypsos frequently engages the fine line between humor and insult. (see Derek Walcott’s “The Spoiler’s Return”). And it is only a gifted comic, aware of the material and the audience, who can successfully navigate the boundaries (Omo ode, koni kosi Ibara ago, ago moyuba Eleggua Eshu Lona) or else become the butt of the joke with serious injuries!

In reggae, too, this awareness of the simultaneity of ecstasy and despair, the double-edgedness of existence is evident even in a seemingly innocent song about universal brotherhood, “One Love” by Bob Marley, which contains this apocalyptic warning:

Let's get together to fight this Holy Armagiddyon (One Love!),
So when the Man comes there will be no, no doom (One Song!).
Have pity on those whose chances grows t'inner;
There ain't no hiding place from the Father of Creation

But what nurtures this tragicomic (some would say macabre) view of life? As the dean of Jamaican comedic writing, Anthony C. Winkler, states in Trust the Darkness: My Life as a Writer: “Humour has an element of the absurd in it, but there is always also present an undergirding of logic” (381-382). Winkler knows this. He knows funny. His many books, which include The Lunatic and Dog War, share a common premise: a sane person in an insane situation. The insanity is usually manifested by an antagonist who follows a rigid code despite all evidence to the contrary that the system s/he supports does not work. Or as he further explains in Trust The Darkness, the difference between the Jamaica and American outlook:

I would point to the theatricality that dominates the practice of everyday business in America. The poor kid behind the counter cooking hamburgers is expected not only to do the job but also to reflect his employer’s corporate image with all its virtues. It is not enough to merely get the job, you also have to put on a uniform and act as if you have been transformed from an individual into a spear carrier in a corporate army…Tied in with this theatricality is a strong characteristic of the American outlook to see everything in ideological and abstract terms. Jamaicans, on the other hand, are more pragmatic than ideological (428).

In these kinds of situations, much like many circumstances that seem insurmountable, the only alternative, the only weapon of the powerless against the powerful is humor. (Nation Language and Anancy stories share this common root of resistance.) The protagonist refuses to succumb to the madness that surrounds him, no matter how logical it seems. And what was more logical than a system that needed enormous amounts of human capital in order to sustain itself? Or an immigration system that caused the kinds of dislocations that Sam Selvon wrote about in “Waiting for Aunty to Cough”?

Writers such as Selvon, Winkler, and Naipaul (before his wit became savage) have long discerned the secret of humor: there is an undeniable bond and truth in laughter. If your oppressor laughs with you, then s/he has recognized the human connection. None of the guns, rockets, and IEDs can eradicate that link, and the opportunity for change becomes apparent. You can't laugh and curse in the same breath. And even if the oppressor is as implacable as death, humor asserts that it is how we live our lives--joyously and fearlessly--that matters.

If death is the closing parenthesis on the fiction of every human life, then humor is the asterisk that proclaims the dignity of human life despite the many absurdities. It produces the kind of humor that my history teacher at Jamaica College, the late James Carnegie, reveled in as he punished us: “It hot, but hush” [trans. “It hurts, but hush”]. This is humor that heals.

***

This post is part of a group write project “What I Learned From Laughter” at Middle Zone Musings and Pamela Mordecai’s post, “Writing Out of the Culture.”

Related articles by Zemanta

• "Bad" Words & Storytelling (geoffreyphilp.blogspot.com)
• Calabash 2009: Reflections (geoffreyphilp.blogspot.com)
• A conversation with Derek Walcott (poefrika.blogspot.com)
• Introduction to Derek Walcott @ CABA: Carole Boyce Davies (geoffreyphilp.blogspot.com)
• Derek Walcott @ Caribbean American Book & Art Fair (geoffreyphilp.blogspot.com)

In My Own Words: Robert Edison Sandiford

What writing has meant to me (of late)

In response to “Best thing about writing? Money” by Alison Flood in The Guardian of March 3, 2009, profiling novelist Colm Toibin and asking question of other international writers.

“No man but a blockhead ever wrote, except for money.” -Samuel Johnson.

“I write with a sort of grim determination to deal with things that are hidden and difficult and this means, I think, that pleasure is out of the question. I would associate this with narcissism anyway and I would disapprove of it.” -Colm Toibin

“I pursued poets who immolate themselves in the inferno of witnessing….” -George Elliott Clarke, “Turning Blue”

Do artists register pain and pleasure as most? Writing can be a torment to me, especially when the thought occurs a man can do a thing a long time without ever doing it to his own satisfaction. But I enjoy making up true stories—and feel the pleasure of others, too, in my creations when I do it well.

That I excel and can make a living at it, and the insight this activity provides me in its practice, is not surprising either, merely as it should be in a world of people with varied skills and talents who must eat. From an early age, I reacted to the world in words, usually on a page. So I am what I always wanted to be, a writer.

This has meant of late finding a better balance between instinct and intent: to make it all seem so natural and inevitable at the same time. It’s like speaking a spell: get all the words right, magic. One word wrong, or out of place, the fool remains a fool.

I come from two societies directly—Barbadian and Canadian—that questionwhether or not they have valid, valuable cultures. Much of my writing has been about examining the problems this poses for the individual.

Not to find definite solutions, rather the kind that encourage enquiry.

If I understand the characters I conjure, then true appreciation of how and why people behave as they do in certain circumstances must be at hand. Even for myself.

***

Robert Edison Sandiford is the author of two short story collections, Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall (1995) and The Tree of Youth (2005); the graphic novels Attractive Forces (1997), Stray Moonbeams (2002) and the forthcoming Great Moves (2010); a travel memoir, Sand for Snow: A Caribbean-Canadian Chronicle (2003); and edited with Linda M. Deane Shouts from the Outfield: The ArtsEtc Cricket Anthology (2007). He is a founding editor of ArtsEtc: The Premier Cultural Guide to Barbados (www.artsetcbarbados.com), and has worked as a journalist, book publisher, video producer, and teacher. He has won awards for both his writing and editing, including Barbados’ Governor General’s Award of Excellence in Literary Arts, a Frank Collymore Literary Endowment Award and the Harold Hoyte Award. He divides his time between Canada and Barbados.

Among his main concerns as a writer are the effects of familial and erotic love on individual actions, and the space—cultural, social, literary, and otherwise; whether “Home” or “Back Home”—created by the offspring of West Indian immigrants to Canada in the resultant fusion of Caribbean and North American realities. He started out a social realist in fiction, but increasingly the fantastic has found its way into his work. (Please see The Tree of Youth and Other Stories.) The latter development is more comic book-coloured, however, than touched by magic realism. Guyanese writer Mark McWatt has described his prose as “spare, masculine,” others have called it “lyrical.” These observations are also true of his non-fiction/journalism/reviews.

Voices of the Floribbean Diaspora

What are the historic and cultural connections between Florida and the Caribbean? This was only one of the questions that Dr. Lillian Manzor and a group of Florida teachers considered during a seminar sponsored by the Florida Humanities Council on July 20-24, 2009, at the University of Miami.

Although it seems obvious, given the geographical proximity, this has been a question that has not received the serious critical inquiry that it deserves, and the seminar under the leadership of Ann Schoenacher also considered these issues:

What geographical, historical, economic, political, and cultural factors led to the formation of the Caribbean as a cultural space?

How do these factors connect the Caribbean to Florida?

What are the contemporary dynamics forging the Florida-Caribbean ties?

How do these play out in Miami specifically?

Is Florida the southernmost state of the United States or the northernmost space of the Caribbean?

The multi-disciplinary seminar engaged several scholars, including Dr. Heather Russell whose lecture, “Literature of the Caribbean Diaspora,” provided an “expansive overview of Caribbean Literature and focused on Caribbean themes such as “Great Time, the limbo imagination, magical realism, identity, race/ethnicity, language, colonialism/post-colonialism, feminism, and class/color paradigms,” which included a focused discussion of Florida Bound and Donna Aza Weir Soley's, First Rain in the context of the work of Derek Walcott, Antonio Benitez Rojo, Kamau Brathwaite, Earl Lovelace, and Edouard Glissant.

Dr. Russell guided the discussion of the Questions of the Day:

How are Caribbean identities expressed through literature?

What are the commonalities and differences within Caribbean literature of the diaspora?

How are gender roles portrayed in literature?

How are racial politics and racialization processes negotiated in Caribbean diasporic literature?

Is there a common Caribbean literary “language” that goes beyond the linguistic frontiers of the Caribbean?

Following a short break, Adrian Castro and I read from our work and we talked about how the “Floribbean diaspora creates a specifically unique cultural/linguistic/ethnic lens” through which we imagine and create our craft. In my work, I have sought to draw a distinction between the Windrush Generation and the Reggae Generation. There are some similarities between the two migratory movements, but geography, access to technology, and postcolonial consciousness have resulted in remarkable differences, which makes the Florida experience unique.

I began the discussion my reading “A Prayer for my Children,” that I’d written specifically for the seminar and livicated the poem to the teachers. I also read two selections from Who’s Your Daddy?: And Other Stories. Adrian read two poems from Cantos to Blood and Honey and Wise Fish, and then, we answered questions from the teachers. Based upon the feedback, it seems as if the workshop was a success and Dr. Russell, Adrian, and I were grateful to be a part of this seminar.

Give thanks to Dr. Manzor, Ann Schoenacher, Dr. Heather Russell, Adrian Castro, FHC, and especially the teachers whose questions and encouragement reminded me of the important work that we still have to do.

***

For more photos, please follow this link: Florida Humanities Council--Caribbean Literature

Related articles by Zemanta

• Who's Your Daddy? @ Books & Books (geoffreyphilp.blogspot.com)
• What does it mean to be Caribbean American?: Adrian Castro (geoffreyphilp.blogspot.com)
• Caribbean American Heritage Month 2009 (geoffreyphilp.blogspot.com)
• What Does It Mean to be Caribbean American?: Rosalind Cummings-Yeates (geoffreyphilp.blogspot.com)
• National Caribbean-american Heritage Month, 2009 (geoffreyphilp.blogspot.com)
• Cops filmed pulling gun on student in case of mistaken identity (carlosmiller.com)
• A Look Back @ the BBC's Caribbean Voices (geoffreyphilp.blogspot.com)
• Derek Walcott @ Caribbean American Book & Art Fair (geoffreyphilp.blogspot.com)

The Harder They Come @ Adrienne Arsht Center

This Summer’s Biggest Reggae Event
The Harder They Come

The Adrienne Arsht Center for the Performing Arts of Miami-Dade County is proud to present, for the first time in the United States, the internationally acclaimed hit musical THE HARDER THEY COME, opening August 29 in the John S. and James L. Knight Concert. Direct from London’s West End, THE HARDER THEY COME will offer audiences a peek into the journey of an aspiring reggae star as depicted in the 1972 international breakthrough film that caused a reggae music explosion heard around the world.

Hailed by Time Out as “a real thrill…the band is tight, the clothes are right – it’s a sure-fire smash hit,” THE HARDER THEY COME features a cast of 16 Jamaican-born performers and tells the story of young singer Ivanhoe Martin (played by Rolan Bell) as he arrives in Kingston, Jamaica with dreams of becoming a reggae star. A corrupt and drug-fueled music industry drives him into a fast and furious life as Jamaica’s most-wanted outlaw and most-celebrated underground star. Reggae music star and pioneer Jimmy Cliff starred in the ‘70s film of the same title, which catapulted the island’s signature sound into a globally recognized and respected genre, turning Jimmy Cliff and reggae music in general, into an international sensation. “With top-class acting, singing and dancing, [this] superb production faithfully distils not just the movie’s music and characters, but also, somehow its soul” (The Standard).

[ More...]

Photo Source: Examiner.com

***

Related articles by Zemanta

• The Harder They Come hits Toronto (cbc.ca)
• True to reggae's spiritual roots (thestar.com)

Opal Palmer Adisa @ Informtainment.com

Adisa’s initial interest in writing can probably be traced back to the stories she was told by her Aunt Zilla, who Adisa would visit during the summer. Since she was frequently around storytelling, Adisa reflects on “always writing, or at least making up stories and poems in [her] head" (Agard 43). When she left for Hunter College, she was not aspiring to major in English or Creative Writing, but Mathematics. Adisa made the shift to writing after attending a poetry reading by Sonia Sanchez, and reading the novel Cane by Jean Toomer (Leach). Other influences on her writing include Kamau Brathwaite and Mervyn Morris, both of whom she met and came to know personally when she returned to Jamaica in the mid-seventies. In her interview with Kwame Dawes, she says she had "been influenced a lot more so by fiction or prose than by poetry" (188).

[More...]

***

Permission to Speak: Anton Nimblett

I'll start with one word, "permission". As a good West Indian boy, I learned early -- and perhaps too well -- to ask for permission. Before interrupting a "big-people" conversation, before having a piece of coconut fudge. Permission to ask for permission, sometimes!

[More...]

***

Anton Nimblett’s stories are about characters driven by desire - for dignity and justice for a dead son, for privacy from a neighbour who collects lives, for sexual fulfilment as a gay man, for an old man’s last assertion of love for a dying wife, for a man on the edge trying to block out the destructive voices of past pains. What is so impressive about the stories, beyond Anton Nimblett’s sharp ear for a wide range of distinctive voices, and the ability to create vividly sensual pictures of place, and particularly of erotic encounters, is their facility in inhabiting contrary tendencies without strain.

There is also an expert cinematographer’s sense of when to cut and when to join, and several stories build to powerful dramatic tension through arresting montage. Within the collection there is both fluidity and sharp definition. Characters migrate between stories (just as they migrate between Trinidad and New York), being sometimes at the fringes, sometimes at the centre - Trinidadian lives seen both in motion and at rest. Writing with equal empathy about the lives of gay men, heterosexuals, young and old, country folk and urbanites, Anton Nimblett is a singularly attractive new voice in Caribbean writing.

Anton Nimblett is a Trinidadian living and writing in Brooklyn.

Photo Credit: Signifyin' Guyana

***

Related Posts: Another Presumptuous Post
Blogging Bypasses Gatekeepers

Praise for Who's Your Daddy? @ Farsighted Fly Girl

If you can't travel to the Caribbean and experience the complexities, the next best thing is to read Caribbean literature that captures the richness of a specific island. Geoffrey Philp's Who's Your Daddy and Other Stories not only conjures up the sounds and images of rural Jamaica, it also reflects the Jamaican community in Miami, which is an element that I've never seen portrayed quite so vividly.

[More...]

***

Mothering and Migration: (Trans)nationalisms, Globalization, and Displacement.

CALL FOR PAPERS

Association for Research on Mothering (ARM) and the University of Puerto Rico are hosting a conference on Mothering and Migration: (Trans)nationalisms, Globalization, and Displacement.

February 18-20, 2010, University of Puerto Rico, Río Piedras, Puerto Rico

We welcome submissions from scholars, students, activists, government agencies and workers, artists, mothers, and others who work or research in this area. Cross-cultural, historical and comparative work is encouraged. We encourage a variety of types of submissions including academic papers from all disciplines, workshops, creative submissions, performances, storytelling, visual arts and other alternative formats.

Topics can include (but are not limited to):

Representations/images of mothers and migration and (trans)national issues; globalization of motherhood; empowering migrant mothers; reproduction and movement of mother workers; migrant and (trans)national mothers and capitalism; migrant and (trans)national mothers and activism; public policy and migrant and (trans)national mothers; legal responses to migrant and (trans)national mothers; transnational movement and (anti-) racism in parenting; LBGT migrant and (trans)national mothers and social justice issues; suffering and survival of migrant and (trans)national mothers; impact of globalization on mothering; creating and maintaining family relationships; mothering and immigration policies; resistance of migrant and (trans)national mothers against cultural oppression; migrant and (trans)national mothers and politicians; transnationalism and adoption; migrant and (trans)national mother movements; race and (anti-) racism within the migratory context; theories of mothers who migrate; globalization of reproductive technologies and reproduction; the effects of migration on mothering; communal support for migrant and (trans)national mothers; employment and migrant and (trans)national mothers; raising children and migrant and (trans)national mothers; migrant and (trans)national mothers and the loss of identity; migrant and (trans)national mothers who build communities and networks; climate change and migrant and (trans)national mothers; mothering and cultural globalization; migrant and (trans)national mothers and language; migrant and (trans)national mother activists; migrant and (trans)national mothers and loss; displaced mothers; mothers on the margins; pregnant migrant and (trans)national mothers and heath care; migrant and (trans)national mothers and economic inequality; migrant and (trans)national mothers and homelessness; migrant and (trans)national mothers and education; transnational motherhood; violence against migrant and (trans)national mothers; migrant and (trans)national mothers and mental health issues; migrant and (trans)national mothers and disabilities; mothering and class issues; caregiving and motherhood in global movements; transnational movements; online communities of migrant and (trans)national mothers; ideologies in migrant and transnational communities

If you are interested in being considered as a presenter, please send a 250 word abstract and a 50 word bio by September 1, 2009 to: arm@yorku.ca.

Association for Research on Mothering

726 Atkinson, York University

4700 Keele Street, Toronto, ON M3J 1P3

Phone: (416) 736-2100 x60366 FAX: (416) 736-5766

Email: arm@yorku.ca

***

"A Prayer for my Children" by Geoffrey Philp

When you find yourself in a far away land
surrounded by men, animals that mutter strange
sounds, do not be afraid: neither you, your parents,

nor your ancestors have ever been alone,
so trust the earth to bear you up, follow
the wind as it leads you through valleys

clustered with trees heavy with fruit--
some that seem familiar enough to eat,
but you still aren't sure they are the same

as the ones you left on the other side
of the river that you've now forgotten.
Eat. Feast on the bounty. Feed the fire

that burns away the knot in your stomach,
sets ablaze the horizon, all that your eyes
can see--that has been promised

to you since your cry pierced the morning air:
your parents bathed you with kisses,
baptized you with caresses,

swaddled you in care before you uttered
your first words to the moon, sun, stars,
wobbled your first steps into unknowing--

all the while rising into your inheritance.
And if you awaken under the branches of a cotton
tree, cradled in its roots, draw a circle around

yourself and all those whom you love, cross
yourself three times before you step over
the threshold. Welcome the ancestors--

all the kindly spirits--who have followed you,
your parents across many seas, oceans,
and deserts; entertain them with strong drink

and soft food: rice, yams, bananas, the ever
present rum to bless the hands that have lifted
you up, sanctified the place you now call home.

***

I'll be taking a break for the summer and I'll be back
on September 7, 2009.
Take care of yourselves and your loved ones.

1Love,
Geoffrey

A Look Back @ the BBC's Caribbean Voices (Part 2)

From the BBC web site:

If a good newspaper acts as a nation talking to itself, then Caribbean Voices distinguished itself as a sounding board for the British colonies in Caribbean.

It was a weekly programme where poets, playwrights and prose writers - amateur and professional - sent forth their contributions from the Antilles and those stories, selected, edited and fastidiously recorded washed back over the airwaves as the BBC called the Caribbean.

In this two-part series Colin Grant examines how the programme served to kick start a literary tradition in the region.

In part two, Colin asks writers who they think they are, who are their readers and whether they strive for recognition at home or abroad.

He speaks to the organiser of the literary festival Calabash who feels that present Caribbean authors are not being pigeon holed by history and writing about slavery and colonialism but writing about everything and anything.

Colin also finds out why local bookshops are maybe to blame for the lack of Caribbean literature in the region themselves.

Caribbean Voices

Part Two


Part One

***

Photo Source: BBC

Related articles by Zemanta

• A Look Back @ the BBC's Caribbean Voices (geoffreyphilp.blogspot.com)

Garry Steckles @ Caribbean Beat: Censorship & Caribbean Music

In the July/August issue of Caribbean Beat, Garry Steckles, author of Bob Marley: A Life, writes about music censorship, dancehall, violence and “suggestive lyrics”:

Like many music fans, I’ve got little time for censorship, and many of the artists I’ve admired most over the years have used their gifts to stir things up socially and politically. Fela Kuti, David Rudder, Culture, the Clash, Alpha Blondy, Mutabaruka, Bob Marley, Peter Tosh, Linton Kwesi Johnson and Bob Dylan, to name just a few, have never hesitated to confront injustice, and their lyrics have often encouraged their listeners to stand up against evil in whatever manifestation it crops up...or, as Marley so memorably put it, “spiritual wickedness in high and low places."

To read more of this article, please follow this link: Caribbean Beat: July/August 2009 (Issue 98)

***

Photo Credit: Caribbean Beat: July/August 2009 (Issue 98)