So you say gays, whether proven or assumed, are not subjected to harm or fear in Jamaica?
That the "few" occurrences that hit the airwaves are just that.... few and seldom.... and provoked.
I have to pass a business establishment that serves as a hub for men and construction contractors to get to work. For the first couple of months I was met with "baby mi wah sen up inna yuh tightness", among other utterances of such nature. Apparently, it came to realization that I did not respond to such beckoning and almost as if overnight I began being met with "sadomite gyal, yuh can't stay roun yah caus wi ago draw yuh weh and fix yuh"..... and trust me, this was the most subtle of the comments. If I had to pass ten times for the day, best believe I would be verbally assaulted the ten times. Now imagine 25 or more men hurling threats at you, all at once. Would you still say there is no reason to feel threatened or would you disclaim it by saying I deserve the threats because I refused to answer to "baby mi wah dun yuh hole"?
As if that was not bad enough, sometimes I have to move back and forth during peak hours and as I don't drive I have to to take the bus. This establishment happens to be at the corner of a major main road and a minor road. The men, large and unified in their numbers, tend to choose these as opportuned times to belt their disapproval of my presumed sexuality. Coincidentally, the corner is also in the nook of a major intersection. Traffic creeps slowly, buses come overloaded elongating the wait. Stoplights, green, red, stop, go. Cars, buses, trucks, motorbikes, bicycles, pedestrians staring at the spectacle "instigating" this uproar. Conductors take a swipe at the taunting, men desperate to prove "masculinity" yell their input, women too weak to defend a sister stare, point and even laugh. Yet, you say there is no reason for fear?
You, the general society, watch and listen policymakers and entertainers incite intolerance of homosexuals, the same intolerance being gobbled up by the less educated and mindless who find time on their hands to jeer, beat and kill gays, whether proven or merely pressumed. You contibute through such practises.
This is one of my many stories, we all have stories. Stop speaking with half truths and innuendos, stand up, speak out. What is your story?
#love #peace #unity #movement
Wednesday, 14 August 2013
Signing up for voluntary services in Jamaica....
On Monday, I tried enrolling with a couple institutions. I posted on facebook as I went along, here are the posts:
Visited the offices of Jamaica Cancer Society and Red Cross and managed to successfully sign up for their volunteer programmes. Went to Tom Redcam Libraby to find out if there existed a programme which would allow me to read to children or help them with art and craft projects, however the librarians were watching the women's race and did not wish to be disturbed. Got attitude from Council of Voluntary Social Services and was redirected to visit their website, regardless of being physically present in their office. Called an organization I was referred to and when asked what was my highest level of education I was met with "suh what you can't find a job eh?". I successfully refrained from telling her that unlike her my preference was to create my job as opposed to "looking" a job. My general thought, after today, is that trying to get onboard programmes of volunteerism means you have to act as if you are begging Sunday dinner, fend off sarcasm and scrutiny, fit the general concept of physical "normalism" as well as only volunteer if there is an ulterior motive of self gain.
Do you have any similar experiences trying to sign up?
I'm inquiring about volunteerism and just learnt that its Intenational Youth Day. I was asked why I didn't remove my facial jewellery — at Ministry of Culture, Youth & Sports."
"I'm being stared down but I am defiant because there is at least one youth who needs my effort."
".....and mi nah remove them..... I think this answer intensified the stares. #nonchalant"
Visited the offices of Jamaica Cancer Society and Red Cross and managed to successfully sign up for their volunteer programmes. Went to Tom Redcam Libraby to find out if there existed a programme which would allow me to read to children or help them with art and craft projects, however the librarians were watching the women's race and did not wish to be disturbed. Got attitude from Council of Voluntary Social Services and was redirected to visit their website, regardless of being physically present in their office. Called an organization I was referred to and when asked what was my highest level of education I was met with "suh what you can't find a job eh?". I successfully refrained from telling her that unlike her my preference was to create my job as opposed to "looking" a job. My general thought, after today, is that trying to get onboard programmes of volunteerism means you have to act as if you are begging Sunday dinner, fend off sarcasm and scrutiny, fit the general concept of physical "normalism" as well as only volunteer if there is an ulterior motive of self gain.
Do you have any similar experiences trying to sign up?
Monday, 12 August 2013
Diary of a Foodie: King Ital
After a day of going around the New Kingston into Cross Roads area trying to sign up with different organizations to be a volunteer I was exhausted, hot and hungry. I wanted some real ital food. There was a restaurant I had heard about and decided to visit there, however, upon arriving it was closed. I stood at the side of the road for a few minutes contemplating my next move and then I decided to ask some men in the bus park where I could get ital food. They directed me to King Ital, located at 4 Caledonia Crescent (right in the deep corner by the Camp Road taxi stand). I was relieved there was proper signage which made it easy to find. I entered through the bottom gate, through a space for parking into a dining area which ushered me into another area which housed additional dining and the service section.
I scanned the menu board, made some inquiries and ordered a mixed plate of "tun" cornmeal, rice and peanut, chunks and beans, ital stew, ackee and saltfish topped with steamed vegetables. To wash it down I requested cucumber juice from the wide variety available. I saw a man sitting to the far end of the counter and went up to him inquiring if he was the owner, to which he humbly replied yes. Immediately I engaged him into conversation and found out the following:
The concept of King Ital came about when "Prince" or "Ital", as he is called, used to run "boat" with his friends back in the late 70's. Embracing the Rastafarian faith, he managed to influence his friends to eat ital food. Gradually, demand for his cooking increased as persons from outside his circle of friends got wind of his skills and started requesting a cut of the "boat". He decided to "set up shop" operating from his then place of residence at 95 West Street. After operating for a while at the said location he relocated to the United States of America on a different venture, where he stayed for one year. He then returned, this time operating from 46 Beeston Street. However, in the political violence of 1980 demand fell drastically after a young man was killed by gunmen in the shop while buying a slice of pudding. He closed for 1 year and 6 months but re-opened at 18 Slipe Road upon receiving encouragement and an offer from a friend, who now resides in New York, to patronize his rent until business picked up. At this point, he got emotional in sharing his story as he reflected on the struggles. In 1998, however, the landlord sold the property forcing him to relocate to 148 Half Way Tree Road. Unfortunately, operating business at that location was "a disaster from day one" he said. During his tenure there he did not make enough money to cover his monthly expenses and therefore relocated to the present location at 4 Caledonia Crescent in 2002. The demand at this location, he says, is "up and down" because a large percentage of his customers attend tertiary institutions around the area which reflect a decline when school is on break. He has also seen a decline in demand since he suffered a stroke in October 2012 which resulted in him having to hire a chef to take over his culinary duties. "I have never owed rent before and I am in debt of two months rent now." He broke into tears again and I consoled him by holding his hand and rubbing his shoulder. His medical expenses have dipped drastically into the profits of the business. His son took over after he suffered the stroke but got frustrated after a while. In an optimistic tone, however, he stated that he finds that he is getting stronger with each day and is looking forward to come back and take control of his business.
My meal came up to a total of $430.00
Please see my previous post, entitled "A crying man", to read about the miraculous bond and spirit of humanitarianism that Prince and I experienced during our talk.
View pictures below.
Toodles.
I scanned the menu board, made some inquiries and ordered a mixed plate of "tun" cornmeal, rice and peanut, chunks and beans, ital stew, ackee and saltfish topped with steamed vegetables. To wash it down I requested cucumber juice from the wide variety available. I saw a man sitting to the far end of the counter and went up to him inquiring if he was the owner, to which he humbly replied yes. Immediately I engaged him into conversation and found out the following:
The concept of King Ital came about when "Prince" or "Ital", as he is called, used to run "boat" with his friends back in the late 70's. Embracing the Rastafarian faith, he managed to influence his friends to eat ital food. Gradually, demand for his cooking increased as persons from outside his circle of friends got wind of his skills and started requesting a cut of the "boat". He decided to "set up shop" operating from his then place of residence at 95 West Street. After operating for a while at the said location he relocated to the United States of America on a different venture, where he stayed for one year. He then returned, this time operating from 46 Beeston Street. However, in the political violence of 1980 demand fell drastically after a young man was killed by gunmen in the shop while buying a slice of pudding. He closed for 1 year and 6 months but re-opened at 18 Slipe Road upon receiving encouragement and an offer from a friend, who now resides in New York, to patronize his rent until business picked up. At this point, he got emotional in sharing his story as he reflected on the struggles. In 1998, however, the landlord sold the property forcing him to relocate to 148 Half Way Tree Road. Unfortunately, operating business at that location was "a disaster from day one" he said. During his tenure there he did not make enough money to cover his monthly expenses and therefore relocated to the present location at 4 Caledonia Crescent in 2002. The demand at this location, he says, is "up and down" because a large percentage of his customers attend tertiary institutions around the area which reflect a decline when school is on break. He has also seen a decline in demand since he suffered a stroke in October 2012 which resulted in him having to hire a chef to take over his culinary duties. "I have never owed rent before and I am in debt of two months rent now." He broke into tears again and I consoled him by holding his hand and rubbing his shoulder. His medical expenses have dipped drastically into the profits of the business. His son took over after he suffered the stroke but got frustrated after a while. In an optimistic tone, however, he stated that he finds that he is getting stronger with each day and is looking forward to come back and take control of his business.
My meal came up to a total of $430.00
Please see my previous post, entitled "A crying man", to read about the miraculous bond and spirit of humanitarianism that Prince and I experienced during our talk.
View pictures below.
Toodles.
A crying man.
Today was the first time I saw a man cry outside of a funeral.
I was in Cross Roads and wanted some real ital food. I visited a restaurant someone had told me about but it was closed, so I asked some men on the road where I could get ital food. They directed me to King Ital (which I will blog about in depth) where, unbeknownst to me, the most emotional part of my day would unfold. I met the owner and we got to talking. I asked him about business and how he got into it. As he relayed his story someone called him around the back and it was only then that I noticed that his left side was limp. He came back and we continue talking, he told me about his stroke and how it has a major setback for his business both financially and operationally.... and then he just broke down and started to cry, hysterically. I was across the counter, I did not know this man but the energy of humanitarianism between us was so strong that I reached across the counter and consoled him by holding his hand and rubbing his shoulder. He bled his story to me between uncontrollable sobs and I listened, I comforted, I suggested possible approaches. Then my lunch came and he said I should go and eat it before it got cold because he was going nowhere. I did, and as I sat I thought to myself,, I have no money to give this man but I know what it is like to conduct business in this economic climate. I thought, and I thought, and I looked around and said I don't have money but I have the education in marketing and business administration that he doesn't have. I can help this man. I would want someone to help me. I finished eating, went back to him, further conversed, he began to cry again while sharing more of his story and in that moment I knew, I had to give this man what I can afford. He is my brother, I cannot see my brother struggling and not help him, and so I told him what I had thought about, I told him I had no specific plan but I want to give him something of this nature with no expectation of return and he just started crying again and held my hands really tight. I knew what he was feeling, I have felt like my business defeated me already, i know what it feels like to contemplate closing business. I was glad I went there for food. In fact, I believe the Universe brought me there. We talked some more, I comforted him, I encouraged him then it was time to leave. I called my mother as I stepped out of the restaurant and just started crying. Miracles do happen and I plan to give this man at least two months of my time sharing, suggesting and encouraging him business wise.
Unity is strength.
Friday, 2 August 2013
Diary of a foodie: Brick Stone Pizza
It was a Wednesday afternoon, about 1:30pm. I felt for adventure....exploration. I toyed with the idea of a beach visit to Cable Hut in Bull Bay or a stop at Castleton Gardens to dip my feet in the river on this hot summer day. I was indecisive, nonetheless, I got ready and left the house with no determined destination. I hopped a downtown bus pondering what to do, where to go. Through Half-Way-Tree, through Cross Roads, still undecided. It wasn't until I reached the vicinity that I decided to check out the little pizza place I had heard of a while back.
Brick Stone Pizza, housed in the most unexpected nook on 105 1/2 East Street, owned and operated by Kenneth Austin, a simple man who colourfully remixed his Jamaican accent with the sound of America.... or was it Italy? Jamaican by birth, Austin worked in New York for some Italians for over ten (10) years in the field of culinary arts. He started out as the delivery man but was later sent to undertake culinary lessons which afforded him the opportunity to eventually advance as Production Head for the enterprize. "I was sent to learn how to chop vegetables because they had no time to teach me but I learnt everything, from making patties, lasagna, pizza.... everything", he chimed in a pitch laced with unmistakable pride. Austin repeatedly expressed extreme gratitude to the said Italians for all they taught him, describing it as "an opportunity that changed my life forever". He pointed out that he is a skateboard stuntman by profession but its pizza that provides financial support for his survival. "I will be making pizza for the rest of my life", he stated in great contentment.
I ordered a small pizza topped with bacon, ham and chicken which amounted to JM$470.00. As he prepared it he explained the things that made his pizza special. He boasted about the Italian authenticity that his pizza had. The dough, which he exhibited to me in a bulk package, was authentic sponge dough of Italian origin. This he coated with his special variation of marinara sauce, the Brick Stone Pizza secret specialty. While he worked another customer, Michael, came in and eventually joined the conversation. "The quality is consistent, delicious and I highly recommend it. I am proud of Kenneth man. Him doing good fi himself." he stated. He was quite willing to grant me the services of a photographer as I tried to capture the various moments of the experience.
Being in operation for a year and two months, Austin hinted about a wide array of customers ranging from the common man to musicians to prominent influences of the nation. Then the big moment came, my pizza was ready. Presented in a branded box it was fresh and stemming hot from the brick oven, which Austin pointed out he constructed himself. The spices from the sauce tantalized my taste buds, the crust was excellently baked, the toppings were magnificent and it all held together seamlessly under a sheet of mozzarella cheese. Simply a-ma-zing! I devoured it in one go! After eating and chatting, Austin showed me around the kitchen and specifically his state of the art brick oven, which I must state exceeded my expectations. It was definitely an awesome experience and I'll definitely be going back to try other toppings such as callaloo, ackee, fish, among others.
Check out the pictures I took documenting the experience.
Brick Stone Pizza, housed in the most unexpected nook on 105 1/2 East Street, owned and operated by Kenneth Austin, a simple man who colourfully remixed his Jamaican accent with the sound of America.... or was it Italy? Jamaican by birth, Austin worked in New York for some Italians for over ten (10) years in the field of culinary arts. He started out as the delivery man but was later sent to undertake culinary lessons which afforded him the opportunity to eventually advance as Production Head for the enterprize. "I was sent to learn how to chop vegetables because they had no time to teach me but I learnt everything, from making patties, lasagna, pizza.... everything", he chimed in a pitch laced with unmistakable pride. Austin repeatedly expressed extreme gratitude to the said Italians for all they taught him, describing it as "an opportunity that changed my life forever". He pointed out that he is a skateboard stuntman by profession but its pizza that provides financial support for his survival. "I will be making pizza for the rest of my life", he stated in great contentment.
I ordered a small pizza topped with bacon, ham and chicken which amounted to JM$470.00. As he prepared it he explained the things that made his pizza special. He boasted about the Italian authenticity that his pizza had. The dough, which he exhibited to me in a bulk package, was authentic sponge dough of Italian origin. This he coated with his special variation of marinara sauce, the Brick Stone Pizza secret specialty. While he worked another customer, Michael, came in and eventually joined the conversation. "The quality is consistent, delicious and I highly recommend it. I am proud of Kenneth man. Him doing good fi himself." he stated. He was quite willing to grant me the services of a photographer as I tried to capture the various moments of the experience.
Being in operation for a year and two months, Austin hinted about a wide array of customers ranging from the common man to musicians to prominent influences of the nation. Then the big moment came, my pizza was ready. Presented in a branded box it was fresh and stemming hot from the brick oven, which Austin pointed out he constructed himself. The spices from the sauce tantalized my taste buds, the crust was excellently baked, the toppings were magnificent and it all held together seamlessly under a sheet of mozzarella cheese. Simply a-ma-zing! I devoured it in one go! After eating and chatting, Austin showed me around the kitchen and specifically his state of the art brick oven, which I must state exceeded my expectations. It was definitely an awesome experience and I'll definitely be going back to try other toppings such as callaloo, ackee, fish, among others.
Check out the pictures I took documenting the experience.
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