Poems By Jerome Teelucksingh

Elections of T&T

Eh, eh is you Tantie Phillips,
Buh how you looking so sad ?? Come na. Elections...
Yes, gyul, ah hold meh head and bawl down de place when ah see 18-18.
Only de good Lawd know de troubles we gone thru.
Steups. Chile, stay one place leh meh comb your hair properly.
Yes, tantie, it look like every
December is election.

That does really sour meh Christmas.
Millions of dollars on ah set ah chupid t.v and radio ads.
Look at Kumarsingh, he loss he deposit in we area
People feel forming party is like forming Carnival band.
Pussonally, I don't like and trust dem politicians.

Gyul I work in DEWD, URP and ETP... and I always had to show my party card.
Look at poor Ingrid....she had to sleep with ah set of man for ah ten days.
De poor people suffring too much.
For elections is ah few free jerseys and en'less robber talk.
Long time de doc use to give rum and roti.

And, wen de doc speak people use to say "That is man !"
Nowadays me eh care for de silver fox and the balisier.
Listen here chile, if you move I'll slap and clout you.
Your hair so damn natty.
Stop playing rasta.... you know police doh like rasta.

Yes, tantie, ah can't take another election this year.

Look at me..I squatting for donkey years with no water and lights.
Yet all ah dem politicians boasting about dis and dat.
I too poor to use de new airport.

If I want to go Tobago I have to swim.
Look at de pothole in de village roads. It big like de hole in
Malcolm face. I tired tell de damn boy doh dig he face.

Good, you hair neat, go and play. And doh ever go out
looking as if you doh have a mudder or if you never see a comb.

Okay later tantie. Doh worry de good Lawd go save we.
Aye, Miss Mary come leh we ole talk. Wot is de latest gossip ?
Steups. What voter padding ? Not in we constituency.
What !! De ink come of your finger !! Doh blame de
EBC. Gyul deh making dem soap too strong. Is Blue Soap yo use ? Yes, of course that taking out voting ink.
Who ? You making joke!! Harry really vote 5 times in the lass election.
Buh he party lorse anyway.
See..I always tell yuh­ God doh sleep.

I only voting for de party dat giving me free Carnival costume.
Miss Mary, doh worry about all de talk about nigger and coolie and racism.
All ah we is one. Look at me..remember my fourth husband ? Sunil.
We still friends.
Look how we does treat old man Khan like de village head.
Is only dem blasted duncey head politicians
who preaching race and does make we intelligent poor people feel shame.
Is dem making we country a big disgrace.
Oh shucks !! ah going to check meh pot of peleau.
Later na.

Trinidad's Carnival Preparing for the short holiday long in advance and saving scarce money to enjoy yourself. You daily dream of costumes on a crowded masman's shelf anticipating fun and festivities in the never ending dance And when the long-awaited celebrations break loose, we relax with a bottle of rum and forget our lives so stressed. Searching for a dancing partner, it's difficult to choose as gyrating bodies move in area compressed. The noon-day sun blends with the colourful garb, transforming lifestyles once drab. Parading before appreciative audiences and judges, the intoxicating evening atmosphere bears no grudges. This annual secular religion appeals to every race. Lost in time, hypnotized puppets prance to a range of steelpan melodies suitable for any stance, as we search for a familiar or friendly face. A local calypso will brilliantly weave party tunes and political picong. Nearby crowds beg the deejay to never leave. On hearing the popular tunes, the crowds chant, the fervour increases and the moment is ever jubilant. At the savannah, kings and queens are hotly contested adorned in raiment costly. Masqueraders wearing costly costumes, some too small, are dwarfed amidst the moko jumbies ten feet tall. The painted anatomy reflects money freely spent, as only when sober would worry over exorbitant rent. Double chins, overhanging bellies and thighs once too thick, are freed from the exercises to be thin as a stick. Music from the melodious steelband, emanating from oil barrels, unique from this land, whose sister isle is almost rectangular. Played in buses, shops and village parlour, hummed alike by amateur and professional, the lyrical menu compliments any cuisine's flavour. Returning locals and tourists so white, Lost in the festive mood of parties all night Yes, we jump, wine and grind, until tired souls on Ash Wednesday beg to sit still. Indeed, this maddening joy will continue till the return flight is due.             Caroni Swamp Lush mangrove resisting the master's encroachment,        struggling upwards, a whiff of life. The mangrove is E n t w i n i n i n g. d i f f e r e n t w a y s. Among roots aged, smiling brown-skinned urchins with large crab-bags seeking the treasure. Disturbing alligators, through slits a common sight, too many. Adapted to brackish, murky water, with instinct intact. Edible fins migrate from mossy boat bottoms to awaiting predators. In cramped boats, pale-skinned men, foreign wear and fear await, as chatting cameras steal the swamp's scenery, filling the visitor's lungs with characteristic swamp air, as snakes, eels and turtles search for dinner, then continue their police patrols of forever muddy waters. Siblings from high nests, frogs and hoppers begin much rehearsed songs. Cosmopolitan choirs break the surface bobbing mosquito larvae and temporary tadpoles fight to survive the cruel life. Slender footed, flaming, pink flamingoes frozen in portrait, amidst the sun's scenery. Common evening rituals as sore necks await among the green. Form pink horizons fishermen return bringing the evening sandflies. Bathed in moonlight, diamond rays fill the water, serene beauty appreciated by the aesthetic lovers.

West Indian Ole Talk Girl, hear na, it have a nice preacher man in we church, he talking and preaching and ting, about the world ending, yes it going to end. But don't worry, he say that de good people living long and forever in heaven gyul. Anyway, hear ting about Janet she so damn farse always minding meh business and wait... What I was telling you jus now? Yes, it now come back to me, is about de little ole bitch that telling everybody she is meh daughter! She brave yes. Hear na, you hear anything about the lazy husband of yours? Doh feel shame or ahow, it does 'appen to all ah we sometime. If mine leave I real 'apppy. Wait! Before I go, leh me tell you about that hard-head girl living by me is really meh daughter, she studying boyfren in school, I fed up and damn vex. Anyway, I tole you bout de latest news? Bout me mudder, yes, she sick. Dying and giving me plenty things in she will, cause is only I did care. Your hair looking good, and long time I eh visit de hairdresser but some ah dem like cutting hair like grass, and you should know. Is new dress? Yeah, me mudder, ah could bawl wit happiness, I hear bout she sickly, and not dat me doh care or me cold hearted but all de suffring and ting not de best ting in this place. Gyul, yesterday was meh luckiest day in meh life. Imgine de hen lay ah set ah eggs and later dat day, a car kill de hen, poor ting. Is a good ting I get the eggs before that. Well, it look like it going to rain, well me doh want to get wet and you ketch cold, so is real nice talking to you, but why you so quiet? Anyway ah going now before ya miserable husband come home, take care eh gyul. WAIT NA GYUL!!!, it have a very nice preacher man in we church, he talking and... What you mean I just tell you that all ready? You must mean yesterday when I met you!

Jerome Teelucksingh is a masters student at the University of the West Indies, Trinidad & Tobago.