Geoffrey Philp Wins Outstanding Writer Award

Geoffrey Philp, author of Grandpa Sydney’s Anancy Stories, won the "Outstanding Writer" award from Jamaica Cultural Development Commission. Mr. Philp also won a gold medal for his poem, “Isaac’s Sacrifice,” and a silver medal for his short story, “Bobby Bijani and the Rolling Calf” in the national competition.

The National Creative Writing Competition Awards Ceremony & Exhibition Opening 2008 was held at the Knutsford Court Hotel, Kingston, Jamaica, on Wednesday, November 5. The ceremony marked the official opening of an island wide exhibition tour to the thirteen parish libraries and features the medal winning pieces in the categories of poetry, short stories, plays, novels, and essays.

“The Jamaica Cultural Development Commission has been an integral part of Jamaica’s literary development and I am honored to receive these awards,” said Philp, who will be appearing at the Miami Book Fair International Book Fair with the Student Literary Encounter series on November 12-13, 2008.

The JCDC National Creative Writing Competition encourages writers to sharpen their skills through the annual competition. Writers are invited to improve their craftsmanship and style, writing in Standard English or Jamaican Dialect. The Creative Writing Competition has spawned and celebrated many recognized professional writers in Jamaica including playwright Basil Dawkins whose 2005 gold medal winning entry “Hot Spot” has not only gone successfully to the stage locally, but has also toured internationally..

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Geoffrey Philp is the author of Benjamin, my son, Uncle Obadiah and the Alien, numerous poetry collections, and a children's book, Grandpa Sydney's Anancy Stories. He teaches English at Miami Dade College where he is the chairperson of the College Prep. Department at the North Campus. His next collection of short stories, Who's Your Daddy? And Other Stories will be published by Peepal Tree Press in May 2009


For more information, please contact:

Danielle Hopkins
Public Relations Coordinator,
Jamaica Cultural Development Commission
The Public Relations Department
Tel: 926-8768/ 371-3423
http://www.jcdc.org.jm/index.php

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"A Song for Haiti" by Opal Palmer Adisa

Opal Palmer Adisa reads @ the Caribbean Writers' Summer Institute: "A Song for Haiti."

You will need Real Player to view the video:

http://streaming.miami.edu:8080/ramgen/artscience/cariblitstudies/1995/1995_P02_02_haiti.rm

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Morning in America Redux: Barack Obama's Presidency

The ability of Americans to turn a page in history has always amazed me. Yet the election of Barack Hussein Obama to the highest office in the country has done just that—changed the course of history.

On many levels, Mr. Obama's election has meant a change in the way we think about each other. Many white Americans have had to put aside their fears of race retribution and their doubts that an African American had the intellectual acumen for the presidency—a canard that was often used to deny many talented African Americans the position of quarterback in major league football. Within the African American community, there is a sense of triumph and euphoria--one of their own has risen from the nightmare of slavery, racism, and segregation to realize the theme encoded in the so-called "Negro Spirituals"—the dream of freedom.

And yet as revolutionary as Mr. Obama's election appears, there is also something profoundly traditional in the choice that is steeped in American values. First, there is American pragmatism. Mr. Obama was elected because he seemed to be the only candidate who was ready to get the job done: to change the course of the country, economy, and America's standing in the world.

There is also the American resistance to privilege. It is ironic that both men came to represent the opposite of their racial stereotypes. For whereas Mr. McCain's campaign stressed his long years of service, almost as if he was "owed" the job—a charge often leveled at many African Americans—Mr. Obama never took anything for granted and fought for very vote. And this is why he won. For in the end, Barack Hussein Obama embodied the traditional values of the republic.

This, however, is only the beginning. Mr. Obama's presidency is symbolic of the change we desire. But as my Sunday school teacher used to say, "Faith without works is dead." And as Mr. Obama early in the campaign reminded us, "This election is not about me, it's about you." How much were we willing to give up, sacrifice, to become better versions of ourselves?

Well, we've taken the first step. But this change won't be easy. For just as in our personal lives, once we decide to make a change, old demons rise up to test us if we are worthy of the new role, in the same way, America's demons will surely rise up to challenge our collective will. Mr. Obama has already warned us, "Power never concedes easily." We have powerful demons in our past that have now been awakened, and I hope that for all our sakes, we are ready for the work of change.

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Photo: London Daily News

Election Day 2008

Source: Current

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"Listening is an Act of Love" @ Books & Books

On Thursday, November 6, 2oo8, Dave Isay, legendary radio producer and founder of StoryCorps, will be at Books & Books (256 Aragon Avenue) at 8:00 pm to answer questions and listen to stories from New York Times Bestseller "Listening is an Act of Love: A Celebration of American Life from the StoryCorps Project."

clipped from www.storycorps.net The paperback edition of Listening Is an Act of Love was released on October 28, 2008, and Dave Isay is traveling the country once again. We hope that you will come out to meet him and listen to stories from the book. Watch our short video from our reading last year in Los Angeles.

Esau Jenkins and the 2008 Elections

As many Americans prepare to go to the polls tomorrow, I’d like to livicate this post to Esau Jenkins, a civil rights leader in South Carolina and founder of the Progressive Club, "which encouraged local African Americans to register to vote."

I never met Mr. Jenkins, but I learned a lot about him when I attended an educational leadership workshop in South Carolina. Our table captain told us about the civil rights movement in South Carolina and about the work of Esau Jenkins in St. John’s islands and his founding of citizenship schools.

What stuck with me, however, were the words of our table captain when the topic of conflict in the workplace came up. When I seemed to suggest giving up, he looked at me and told us the story of Esau Jenkins and concluded with these words:

As a leader, you may think you have it tough. But every time you think of quitting or giving up, I want you to think of Esau Jenkins. They tried to kill him, but he kept on going. I can bet you, whatever opposition you face as a leader in your workplace, nobody is going to try and kill you. Keep going.

I won’t say that since then I have not sometimes said to myself, “Why bother?” But I will also say that the moment the thought entered my mind, the memory of Esau Jenkins and my table captain come back to me.

So give thanks to Esau Jenkins and all the civil rights leaders. For whatever the outcome, you never gave up, never lost faith, and this is why we can vote tomorrow.

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Notes Towards a Longer Work 1

My question for the critics of Caribbean writing:

What are the patterns in Caribbean literature?

clipped from bookcriticscircle.blogspot.com It is not necessary, in fact I think it is rare, that a story teller or a writer be a wise person. What is essential is that the writer be able to create a trustworthy pattern, a pattern in the modern idiom that serves the reader in her effort to remember who she is, and where she is going.

Happy Halloween 2008

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politics
Election 2008
voting

"For Alton Ellis, O.D." by Malachi

The death of Alton Ellis on October 10, 2008 sent shock waves through the Jamaican community and many of us have still not fully recovered from the passing of this great artist who gave us so many great songs that were part of the soundtrack of our adolescence.

Birth, death, and all the other parts of life surround us. But it is the writer, the poet, acting in a public role, who creates context for us to understand the emotional meaning/significance of events within the community.

The dub poet, Malachi, has written a tribute poem and a brief narrative, and I give thanks to him and Alton Ellis for enriching our lives.

For Alton Ellis, O.D.

I couldn’t take it

Seeing you standing in line

In this time

With a meal ticket

Your black felt crown shading, just barely

Your majesty’s face

From the blazing Miami sun

Coming down without mercy

As you waited patiently, off stage

For a meal

You had already paid for in Trench Town

Father, take my hand and sit

I will serve you.

For how could I, how could they

How could we not know better

When you had given us so much

With your song dance sermons ?

How could we not know

You stopped this very dance from crashing

Long ago…

Giving us love melodies

That kept us dancing

Holding us together as one

When hungry belly suffering threatened

To make us all victims?

How could we not know you are a pillar

Of the movement that gave us our culture

That you soared before Paragons and Heptones

Feathering from Brown to Beres

To Sanchez crooning

And all the rest of us who hide

Behind blinking facades,

Trying to deny your legacy?

But let them try

For no longer will they see

Feel a weeping willow rocking steady, center stage

No longer will they feel

See black man tears bursting flowing

The gully banks of a black man’s face

No longer will they hear the cock crowing

Sunday coming…

Prepare the sweet seasoning

For the one day of the week when

Sufferers had good dining

No longer will they know

That love is all that matters between souls

And forever “I’m still in love

With you girl” will linger

The deejays will still spin you

Yesteryear souls will rock steady, get closer

At Merrytone gathering

Choking up reliving, celebrating

A time when love meant something

When the music was as sweet as honey

Pressed from live wax

Losing you is hot

Like seeing yard without Blue Mountain peaks

Unfathomable, undeniable

Father Alton…

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Growing up in Jamaica, I was always fond of Alton Ellis’s music, so you can imagine how I felt when I introduced him on stage at the Miami Reggae Festival at Bayfront Park in 2005. His sister Hortense had just died and was still to be interred. Alton came and did the show any way and what a performance it was. Tears streamed from his voice eyes as he sang “Weeping Willow”--a tribute to her.

But the time that really made an impact on me was a few years earlier when I emceed a show at Bayfront Park and Alton was on the show. I was standing at the side of the stage. When I looked down, I saw him standing in line with a meal ticket in his hand. He was very humble and dignified. I was enraged when senior female member of the production team jumped to the head of the line and took a large snapper dinner to a so-called super star, who was hobnobbing backstage, and he wasn't even performing on the show.

I went down to Alton and said, "Father, this isn't right. This is disrespect of the highest order. Sit. Give me the ticket, and I'll bring you your meal." He said something like “Thank you, sir,” or “son.” I got him his meal. The experience still lingers in my psyche. It seems my people often times take the greatest of us for granted too many times and it hurts.

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Born "the son of a preacher-man" in the Parish of Westmoreland, Jamaica, Malachi has become an icon in the world of reggae/performance/dub-poetry. Performing from an early age, his first three poems were written while still attending White Marl Primary School for the White Marl Beacon magazine.

An alumnus of Florida International University, Miami-Dade Community College and The Jamaica School of Drama, Malachi was one of the founding members of Poets In Unity, a critically acclaimed ensemble that brought dub-poetry to the forefront of reggae music in the late 70s and carried it forward for a decade. Malachi has also performed as an actor and poet, and is an accomplished writer, publishing and performing his own plays and poetry. He has also become known for his performances in other theatrical productions and on radio, television, and live theatre.

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Related Post: Heaven Just Got I-rier

Early Voting in Miami: Amendment 8

From the first time I voted in a US election to the last county election, whenever I went to the polling station, I used to look disdainfully at the partisans with their hats, t-shirts, and placards supporting their cause or candidate and think, “Who are these crazy people?”

Well, on Wednesday 22, 2008, I became a crazy person. And I’m proud of it.

But it didn’t happen overnight. Craziness like this takes planning.

On Saturday, October 18, 2008, after collecting my palm cards and t-shirt from the Amendment 8 PAC, I went to my local Home Depot and bought the wood for the handle of the placard and went to Office Depot to make copies of the signs. I may be crazy, but I’m not cheap.

Then, I went home and as I was putting the placard together, I began thinking about American democracy and how easy it was to become involved in a political cause. It also made me think about the difference between American and Jamaican politics. Elections in Jamaica are a dangerous business. Voters have been killed because of the political rivalry. There have even been cases where innocents have been murdered for wearing the “wrong” color during the election season—either “orange” for the PNP or “green” for the JLP. At least in America, no one was going to shoot at me for supporting Amendment 8. Or were they? I have some friends who are pretty much anti- everything.

After making the placards on Saturday, I had to wait until Wednesday, the day for which I had volunteered, and went with my coworker, Agnes, to the early voting site at North Miami Public Library.

On Wednesday morning, I got up at five and Agnes and I got to the library at six thirty in the morning. It was still dark, yet to my surprise, there were approximately a hundred and twenty people already in the line that snaked around the building and out into the street—well beyond the 100 foot barrier beyond which we could not solicit any votes.

As we unpacked our water and granola bars, we looked around to find a good spot (like with everything else, it’s location, location, location) where we could interact with the voters—many of whom looked at me the way I used to look at the crazy supporters with the hats, t-shirts, and placards.

For the most part, our solicitations went well, and my job was fairly easy. I reminded the voters to Punch #140 (Amendment 8) while Agnes worked the line with her palm cards. We didn't have to do much convincing and most of the voters were pleasant--despite the three hour wait in the line. It also helped that many of the voters were either students, ex-students, or knew someone was attending or attended Miami Dade College. I even saw one of my former students and began to think that if I had failed him, he would vote against Amendment 8 to spite me. Luckily, he had passed my freshman comp. course and I breathed a sigh of relief.

At nine o’clock Agnes and I picked up our palm cards and placards and drove back to the college to put in a full day. It was going to be a long day, but we left the voting station feeling that we had done something meaningful in the two hours we had volunteered.

And somewhere deep down in my little immigrant heart, I was proud to be participating at a new level in American democracy. I could almost hear the opening lines of The Godfather in my head: “I love America.”

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amendment eight miami
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"The Person in African Religious Thinking": Dr. Albert Wuaku

"The Person in African Religious Thinking: Reflecting on the Epistemological Basis of Indigenous Akan and Yoruba Medical Practice"



Dr. Albert Wuaku

Department of Religious Studies
Florida International University

November 6, 2008

7:00 pm

Venue: University Center, Room 245
University of Miami

For more information contact:
Edmund Abaka @ e.abaka@miami.edu
(305) 284-3885

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Mervyn Morris: Caribbean Writers' Summer Institute

Mervyn Morris reads his poetry @ the Caribbean Writers' Summer Institute: "Legion" "Oblation" "Valley Prince (for Don D)" "Windscreen" "To an Expatriate Friend" "I Am the Man" "To the Unknown Non-Combatant" "Case History, Jamaica" "Afro-Saxon" "For Consciousness" and "The Roaches."

You will need Real Player to view the video:

Mervyn Morris @the Caribbean Writers' Summer Institute

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Old Boy Pride: Jamaica College

During the nineties when I made regular trips to Jamaica, I'd usually visit my alma mater, Jamaica College, and invariably, I'd be disappointed by the physical appearance of the buildings and the rowdiness of the boys. Not that when I was in high school my friends and I weren't a bit rowdy. But this was rowdiness to the point of being rude. The line between personal and communal behaviors seemed to have been blurred, and whereas we were cautious about crossing social barriers, these boys didn't even recognize the limits and barged through with reckless abandon.


Last year, however, I visited Jamaica College and noticed a visible change. The buildings were painted and the boys seemed less uncouth. They were even courteous. This was a welcome change, and for the first in a long time, I felt proud to be a JC Old Boy.


It was quite a strange feeling because I've always had a quixotic relationship with Jamaica College, which I've written about in my novel Benjamin, my son and in some of the stories in my latest collection, Who's Your Daddy? and Other Stories. The time I spent at Jamaica College meant a lot to me, and I'm being precise when I say it was my alma mater--nourishing mother.


As a young man growing up in an all boys' school during the seventies, Jamaica College provided me with space to think about my relationships with parents, friends, and community. It was a time of enormous change, and every relationship, every assumption behind every relationship was scrutinized. This scrutiny extended into social and gender/sexual arenas.


And because Jamaica College, besides being known for its intellectual tradition, was also known as a "battyman" school, it was difficult to balance the decency and tolerance that were the cornerstones of the education that I received from JC Old Boys and teachers such as Dennis Scott and Jimmy Carnegie, while at the same time reconciling the idea of being a Jamaican gentleman, exemplified by JC Old Boy and then Prime Minister, Michael Manley, with the rise of feminism and the homophobia of Jamaican society.


I was also born during the generation that could remember the lowering of the Union Jack and the raising of the Jamaican flag, so the question presented itself: What does it mean to be a Jamaican gentleman in postcolonial Jamaica?


Growing up in colonial Jamaica, many of the previous old Boys had a clear idea of a Jamaican gentleman: white, Oxbridge accent and a sneering contempt for the masses--VS Naipaul sans melanin. However, after we gained our independence from Britain, the clarity was lost as new dimensions were added to the conception of our identity: Africa, Rastafari, feminism. Rastafari and feminism forced us to ask ourselves: How do men and women behave toward each other without invoking the legacy of paternalism, colonialism, race, and class privilege?


Reggae and Rastafari were also transforming Jamaican culture and language and therefore the lens through which we interpreted the world with words such as dawta, I-dren, and sistren.


To all these questions, I got mixed answers. So what's a boy to do?


Well, we must act and the behavior of this young man, a current Jamaica College student, seems to be just right:

He was just another Jamaica College student; she, from Ardenne Preparatory. They could have been siblings, or cousins. Yet something about them pulled my attention away from the other students nearby who were chattering noisily… It sang to me in the almost fatherly way in which he instructed her to position herself so that she could hold on to one of the bus seats for stability…


He was no longer just another high school student. He was that little girl’s protector, her rock.


And he became the hope I clenched tightly in my heart for the future of our young men.

There didn't seem to be any condescension of the young man's part, just genuine care for a younger sistren. He could be strong even in the knowledge that there are predatory men out there who would seek to exploit the sistren's vulnerability. In that moment, he was her "protector"--he was being chivalrous in the truest sense of the word, for there was nothing to be gained. He acted truly and he was on his way. And that's what being a gentleman--in any culture--is all about.


This young man acted in a way that affirmed the rich tradition of Jamaica and my alma mater. And after reading about him, I have one more reason to say proudly, "Yes, is there I come from."

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Jamaica College