Remember Christmas Chapter 6

 

I had a part in a Nativity play I was Joseph, the leading actor.  Every boy in the school wanted to be near the girl that played the lead female part.  Deanna.  Deanna was Mary.  I had long since been in love with her, so of course I was devastated when I got ill and had to be hospitalized.  No end seemed in sight.  The doctors could not find out what ailed me.  I went through a battery of test and still no results and not feeling any better.  The Christmas season was fast approaching and I was feeling depressed.

         Sick and in hospital how miserable can that be?  Then I got a gift a pair of Cowboy guns and holster. My spirits perked up.  Still sick but in a much better mood.   Then one evening a man came visiting whom I had never seen before, and he took a picture of me, standing on my bed with my guns drawn. He promised to return a later with a copy of the photograph.   My mood changed miraculously and I began to feel better.  The spirit of Christmas was in the air again.          Oh! How I love this festive season of the year.  Soon came the day that I was to be discharged the man had not returned with the picture of me.  I was packed and ready and waiting for my parents to pick me up.  I sat on my bed feeling very sad and pensive. May be I would never see the man who took the picture of me again?  Then I would never see how I looked?  

However, remember this is Christmas just as I remove my hands from my eyes the man came rushing in, waving my

picture over his head.  I love it! I look great! I was overjoyed.

 I remember Christmas

Remember Christmas Chapter 5

Daddy loved Christmas.  During this time of the year, he took control of the kitchen.  Prepared the turkey, the Ham the Garlic Pork, boiling the pigs feet and ears to make souse. Boiling down the beef for the pepper pot and using all of the rich spices.  Not forgetting the rum punch and Punch Remer.  We stood by like nurses passing the different cooking utensils to him the surgeon who performing the different cuts on the turkey, ham and roast pork. 

         During all this cooking activity, loud calypso music was being played, With a Christmas festive flare.  Infusing our minds with the sounds of Christmas, we will never forget.  Mummy would peak every once a while. Concerned about the state of her kitchen, which was now taken over?  This was the only time of the year she did not interfere with activities in her kitchen.   Mummy got about decorating the living room area of the house.  When the food was in the oven, everyone gathered around to help her.  She was quite a boss, but we loved her all the same.  The Christmas tree had to be lifted in and placed into position.   We always had a very big natural Christmas tree.  Last year’s carton with all the Christmas decorations was brought down and old lights were tested and all broken bulbs discarded and new ones put in place.  Then came Christmas Eve night when we wrapped gifts and placed them under the tree.  Oh! How I loved Christmas. Now all tired, we try to stay up as long as our eyes would permit to see when Santa would come with all our gifts.  He only came after we drifted into a deep sleep. 

I Remember Christmas.
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Remember Christmas Chapter 4

On Christmas Eve, we excitedly take a trip to the shopping district.  The roads were packed with shoppers and hawkers.  There were vendors on both sides of the street making it difficult to walk on the pavement.  Firecrackers went off “Bang! Bang!” Whistles and horns blaring in the aesthetic Christmas air. They were tons of toys and lots of food for sale.

          Of course, one cannot leave out the masquerade dancers they were fun.  Accompanied by flute players and drummers making merry music. Joining them was the scary “Mad Bull with his horns and fearsome face.  Then there was the Granny long lady on stilts with her face painted white.  “Man it’s fun.”    The masquerade dancers and the flouncing musicians singing and chanting {Christmas comes but once a year so drinks your rum and tumble down, “Bato, Bato”!  Christmas comes but once a year so flounce if you flouncing “Bato, Bato”!  Christmas comes but once a year so wine and tumble down on the ground “Bato, Bato”!}

         Up the road, there steel pan players were beating out sweet carols at a bouncy calypso beat. In addition, girls and boys, women and men dancing up a storm to the rhythm of Christmas calypso music. 

          Oh! Boy I love this Christmas season.  

I remember Christmas.

Remember Christmas can be purchased in eBook format from Lulu.com and Barnes and Noble.com and  in iBookstore.  Attached link to Lulu.com, and saatchiart.com,and  Spoken Black Girl, Rowana’s blog.

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Remember Christmas Chapter 3

In the sixties Guyana was going through a period of political unrest.  There was protest, rioting looting and thousands of workers were on strike. There were food shortages and many houses and business were burnt to the ground.  These were frightening times for children. My aunt Yvonne whom we lived with then was also on strike.  My brother and I had gone to live with her while; our parents were away in Ghana West Africa.

          Therefore I will always remember the sad rainy day when the miracle of Christmas came rippling into our world.  Our aunt Yvonne came bursting into our bedroom dancing and flouncing.  Flouncing is a traditional dance step in Guyana, preformed mainly during the Christmas season.

          Suddenly while flouncing away with the majesty of Christmas Aunt Yvonne raised the hem of skirt and out flew a toy.  Then with one, more whirl and toss of the hem of her skirt out flew another toy.  To my brother and I these were the best of gifts of the season, nothing else mattered.  Our hearts were so content it would not have mattered if we received no new gifts.  We were completely satisfied.  Her dance of an angle flowing with joy and Peace lifted our hearts with promise and happiness.

          I remember Christmas. 

Attached to this blog Art {Juju Eyes} you may contact me on same or saatchiart.com .Also link to my eBook Remember Christmas on Lulu.com and B/N.com.

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Remember Christmas 2

During the Christmas season, one of the traditions in Ghana was to build a trash house. This trash house was built out of the leaves from a palm tree.  You then spend Christmas Eve and Christmas morning in it rejoicing the day Christ was born.  This custom symbolized the humble way that Christ came into the world born in a stable.  Although I must confess that, I was never able to spend the whole night in the palm house.  I missed my bed and the nights were cold.           It was Christmas Eve and my elder brother, Clarence and I decided to climb a tall tree to cut down a few posts to build our little Christmas house.  While my tall and on the way to becoming fat brother climbed the tree I stood at the bottom of the tree to point out which of the best limbs to cut.  Suddenly I heard a loud “crack.” Then before my horrified eyes, Clarence came crashing down from the tree landing on a pointed tree stump with a loud “thump”.  That then punctured his right thigh.

    Bravely he held on to his thigh and told me not to cry. Quickly he ripped his shirt off and told me to tie a tourniquet above the wound. How that taught came to him, I would never know.  I scampered home screaming for help.  What a courageous big brother Clarence was. Lucky for us my parents were home, they rushed him to the Hospital.  “Oh! For the love of parents what would kids do?” 

I remember Christmas.

Attached to this blog are two paintings I did for Remember Christmas{ Brother ent heavy}  which I sold to a collector and{ Daughter ent heavy} which is not for sale. Attached is {Modesty} which is for sale on saatchiart.com. Attached also are links to Lulu.com, BN.com, on these links you can find Remember Christmas Just type my name Rowan Abbensetts.

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Remember Christmas Chapter 1

I remember Christmas, when as a little boy I sat Under the Christmas tree and gazed at all the toys that Santa had brought for my brother and I.  Me saying aloud “Santa must be a very good man”.

Those words brought tears of joy to my grandfather’s eyes.  At that age I had no Idea that he was one of Santa’s great helpers, who brought all those wonderful gifts that, adorned the bottom of our Christmas tree.  The essence of Christmas, giving gifts of love.

I remember Christmas. 

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Remember Christmas Prologue

                   My desire to write about the joys of Christmas was ironically triggered by one of sadness.

It was close to Christmas day and I had not received a Christmas card from my son who then lived in Guyana.  It was a cold day the snow had fallen all night and into the morning.  I was on my way to work and had just missed the bus; all I could do was stand and lament. Then it slowly dawned on me I had to snap out of this depression before it affected my new loving family. Hence Remembrance of Christmas.

          The truth became apparent to me when I had my new lovely then nine years old daughter Deanna read this script.  She totally enjoyed the script she even laughed.  She then encouraged her teenage brother Marlon to read the script his response was a wide smile he also enjoyed the script.
               Attached to my blog is art {Blue Diamond} which is on sale at saatchiart.com, I may be contacted on any art shown on my blog or saatchiart.com.   Also attached are links to Remember Christmas on Lulu.com in paper back and eBook format and in eBook at iBookstore, and Barnes & Noble

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Remember 2016 early start

This year 2016 I am starting my Remembrance of Christmas blog early. I have an added feature the opportunity to purchase Remember via eBook format. I am curious to see how the media will perform and welcome all critique. Remember Christmas is on Lulu.com also iBookstore just enter Rowan Abbensetts.  Also linked is my daughters blog Spoken Black Girl. Attached art Anansi is now on sale at Saatchi art.com.

PROLOGUE

December 1992

The background of this children’s book has a distinctive

Caribbean flare. Remembrance of Christmas opens windows on different cultures and their similarities.  The comparable backgrounds I feel children the world over can relate to also adults.  Remembrance of Christmas narrative was drawn from memorable episodes of the Christmas season in my life while a child growing up in Guyana South America and Ghana West Africa. 

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West 28th And 6th Avenue of the Americas

When next in Manhattan take a trip to my favorite street West 28^th and 6^th Avenue of the Americas, the whole sale flower district. Then allow the flowers to engulf your senses. Flowers of all species from the tropical Anthuriums to the fall Pansies.  The rich aroma of flora envelopes the sidewalks and stores as wholesalers and shoppers mingle. Today I am here to buy some Orchids in memory of my Mom.
You may contact me on all art shown on my blog. Art also shown on Saatchiart.com.

Folk Incognito Blog Master

                                         

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SCHOOL DAYS

Exerts from Day in the life of Abby.
Clarence was now plunged into a deep state of loneliness as hepondered the court case and his desires.

And like the old Negro spiritual goes {“some times I feel like a motherless child a long, long way from home”} So Justice Abbensetts was black “Yes a Negro person” yet a stranger in Africa.

It was on one of these nights as he sat on his veranda and

reminisces the girl he left behind in South America.
             The art on this blog is for sale. I can be contacted personally it is also on Saatchiart.com,Also links to my book Once upon an Easter on Lulu.com, links to spoken Black Girl by Rowana Abbensetts.

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TATALE

 Palm wine drinking and the herb scents in the

air, intoxicating the soul. The constant beating of African drums.

The women could be heard singing.

Ebei, ebei Tatale,

Ebei, ebei, Tatale,

Ebei, ebei, Tatale

{Namo ba he}, Tatale, {Namo ba he}, Tatale

Ebei, ebei, Tatale.

Meaning: It is cooked it is cooked, the Tatale is cooked {Namo ba he}, who will buy? Tatale.  Tatale is mashed up ripe plantain mixed with Corn flower, made into a ball then deep-fried. Served as a desert, very delicious.        This Ghanaian folk song is sang in the Ga, dialect.

           The pace of the dancing was now at frenzy the dancers stamped their feet on the ground, earth shaking, and Juju man in a trance.

Feeling it my bones now vibrating to the rhythm, sound of African drums and singing.

By dawn, the dancers had gone also the musicians the crowds dispersed. Exhausted and fast asleep yet muscles twitching body shaking drums beating Ebie, ebie, Tatale Namo ba he Tatale.  

Tales of an Emancipated Colonist.

Folk Incognito bog Master.

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JUMBIE

{Jumbie Pipe}

Extracts from “Day in the life of Abby an Emancipated colonist”.

Jumbie lef hee pipe here?

No! Sa! No! Sa!

Jumbie lef hee pipe here?

No! Sa! No! Sa!

Wha kina gate this?

Iron gate this!

You mean I can’t break it?

No! Sa! No! Sa!

Wha kina gate this?

Iron gate this!

Jumbie lef hee pipe here.

As kids the No! Sa! Sa! Sounded like No! Ka! No! Ka! It is funny how words take on different sounds and means the same thing and sometimes can mean nothing. Sa! is also the creoles for sir. A Jumbie is an evil spirit that is believed to be able to engulf a person.

In this {Ring game}, the person is outside of the ring trying to break in.

Folk incognito blog master.

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Day In The Life Of Abby {Ring Game}

In my next few blogs I will be high lighting extracts from my book, Day in the Life of Abby, tales of an emancipated colonist.

 Clarence was now plunged into a deep state of loneliness as he pondered the case and his desires.  Like the old Negro spiritual goes {“sometimes I feel like a motherless child a long, long way from home”} So Justice Abbensetts was black “Yes a Negro person” yet a stranger in Africa .It was on one of these nights as he sat on his veranda and reminisces the girl he left behind in South America. As the sun went down and the evening got cool they would join the other kids to sing and play ring games.

There is a colored gal in the ring.

Tra-la- la- la-la.

There is a colored gal in the ring.

Tra-la- la- la-la.

There is a colored girl in the ring.

For she loves sugar and I love plum.

Now show me your motion.

Tra-la-la-la-la.

Now show me your motion.

Tra –la-la-la-la.

For she loves sugar and I love plum.

She would jump into the middle of the ring and start

winding he waist and bouncing those hips, raising the hem of

her skirt showing off her beautiful brown thighs.

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Chapter 10 Problems

The Easter season symbolize Peace.  Therefore I am going to continue my Easter blog Peace being the theme.
Big problem for us we had no money. While “Kite Man” was building our kite he kept on rambling about the different people he used “Baby Gal” to slash. By then we had figured that Aunt Sybil’s boarder was the infamous murder who sliced up his victims.  However the police could never pin any definite murder on him. Hence he would spend a short time in prison and them be released. He was also known as the New Amsterdam Butcher Man.   While scratching our head he blurted out “I want Rum”! 

Well Aunt Sybil had a bottle of Rum which she used for black cake and to preserve fruits. So we raided her cupboard poured out all her rum and replaced it with some lime juice swank.

 We now had the best looking kits in New Amsterdam. But fear Aunt Sybil’s boarder was the notorious “Kite Man” known criminal for cutting up his victims. This knowledge lingered in our minds. That night we hardly slept a wink we had constant night mares of kite Man creeping up and cutting us up in our sleep.

Once upon an Easter.

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Chapter 9 Kite Making

 “Go get me some (Pacie) Pacie is a gummy sticky fruit that grew on a large tree in Aunt Sybil’s yard.  So we climbed the Pacie tree chopped down as many bunch of Pacie as we could, as fast as possible, because “red ants was biting we on all parts”.  Red ants always bite you in parts unmentionable.   “Red ants does live in Pacie trees, they love the Pacie fruit because it so sweet”. Next we had to cut some bamboo to make the bull of the kite.  We then asked our mother for a few dollars ran down to Main Street to buy some kite paper to pace on the kite frame.  Because the kite was so big we could not use our crochet # 0 twine, we had to buy a thicker twine more like a fine rope. Now for the tail we get some old cloths and joined them up. “But the Kite Man say we got to get some rope so we find a big old rope in the yard and split it in two to make the tail. The Kite man said “I is a fight man and we gon battle any bad man kite that challenge we on the Back Dam tomorrow”.  Then we made some cut out of and wrote out the name of the kite “Baby Gal”. It was the biggest kite my brother and I had ever seen and the most beautiful. Only one thing disturbed us, was the name “Baby Gal”. Next the Kite Man said “find some razor blades and broken old glass and bottles with sharp edges”. With all these items procured and the kite completed; he declared “I done now. How you all gon pay me?”
Once upon an Easter.
                   London Oyster inspired by our visit to London and the musicians who made our travel in the London underground tube pleasing. Please feel free to contact me on any art shown on my blog

Love

Rowan

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CHAPTER 8 KITE MAN (PART1)

We had no time to waste next morning we start rummaging our aunt’s yard looking for old box board to cutup to make parts for our broken kite. We found a few pieces and with an old cutlass started chopping down on the wood. Suddenly we heard someone shouting at us

“Hay there! Hay you there!” We looked round and there was this tall skinny man pointing at us. “Stop that racket”  “Is what you guys think you doing?” We replied “We trying to repair our kit”. “Oh! I see.” “Come here let me help you all.”  “I am the Kite Man.”.  “Wait here Ah! Gon bring out me out me favorite knife”. “Baby Gal!” “Boy she is the sharpest gal I ever had, when she cut she, she does cut real clean and smooth”. Me use am to chop up nuff of them”. “Bring them boards, le me help you all build a big man kite”.  His fingers were long, and his hands was steady as he chopped and plane down the boards to be used for our kite.

Once upon an Easter

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Chapter 7 Aunt Sybil’s

Crossing the Berbice river in a ferry from Rosignol to New Amsterdam an old town named by the Dutch.  We trudged our way down to St.Ann Street with our luggage and tattered kite.  We arrived at my Aunt Sybil’s house late in the evening, it was already dark and we were greeted with lots of

hugs and kisses by my mother and Aunt. Now Aunt Sybil’s house was an old time huge Dutch style house with a high roof, the ceiling space allows breeze to flow through the house. My aunt’s house also had lots of windows and a bottom house which she rented to boarders. The house was also surrounded by a Genip tree and a Mango tree and a Dungs tree.   The Dungs tree was so close to the house that with a reach out of the window one could pick the Dungs. After a quick bath.  Cold water mixed with hot water from a kettle and poured into an enamel bucket. Followed by a quick rub down with soap from head to toe. A bowl to throw water over your body we hoped out the bath as soon as possible. Towel off, then on with your pajamas. We head down to the kitchen for a hot dinner. Aunt Sybil had a huge kitchen with a large table from which all activity revolved. We sat down to some fresh brewed hot  ground Cocoa with raw Cow’s Milk and some Bakes with Salt Fish and two Chinese Cakes for sweet.  The Cocoa tea the best I vow to anyone in the world. Roasted fresh Cocoa Beans ground in a hand mill and served with hot fresh Cow’s Milk; just milked for the cow earlier in the morning it’s a taste to be savored for a life time.

Once upon an Easter

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Chapter 6: The British Soldiers

With our spirits uplifted Clarence my aunt Yvonne and I began preparing for the big Easter Monday kite flying day.  Only the receive a letter from my mother stating that she wanted us to spend Easter with her in New Amsterdam. The next couple days were now spent preparing for the long journey to New Amsterdam.

We boarded the train in Georgetown, Lamaha Street in Cummingsburg to begin the trip New Amsterdam. 

To our amazement and joy as boys we were in the same compartment with two British soldiers.

Guyana the then “British Guiana” was a sovereign colony of England.  The British army sent soldiers to help squash the unrest and riots and return to country to a state of peace.                           

Between strained snips of conversation we got to know the English soldiers. They proved to be a savior to us after the train made one of its major stops at Mahica. At this stop we are allowed to leave the train to stretch our feet buy food and stuff.

What we did not know was Mahica was also World Head Quarters for Sand Flies and Mosquitoes. The moment the train pulled out of the Mahica station colonies of Sand Flies and Mosquitoes descended on us with most vicious attack of insect on man ever. Sand Flies will attack you in swarms on every exposed part of your body. They will find their way through your hair down to your skull and the bite every exposed part that no hair grows from and leave your head full of bumps, they are bad. The mosquitoes there will bite and drink every drop of blood you own by the time you reach to Rosignol you will have no blood. So there we were facing eminent death when the two English soldiers produced the most complete defense in the from of a bottle of Citronella oil. They offered to share some with us.  We graciously accepted their offer. We rubbed that oil on our body from head to toe. We literally took off our Yachting Boots and rubbed the oil between our toes and of course on our head, under our shirt and pants. “It just takes one sand fly to get under your shirt and pants to have you scratching and itching.  My brother and I will always be great full to those two English soldiers.

Once upon an Easter.

Chapter 5: Test flight

We explained to the Gardner our dilemma. He convinced us that our fears were unfounded and we could build our own wood kite. Up to that time my brother and I could only build pointer broom kits. Which were not very efficient kits. They were prone to breaking easily and had bad flying records.  The Gardner then proceeded to lead us through the steps of making our own wood kite with old pieces of board hanging around our yard. With the assistance of my aunt Yvonne who provide us with some of her Grease Proof paper and some color Barbados Paper we built two singing engine kits with big bulls so that they could hum in the air.  The kits being completed mine was put to the test flight. It flew so high it homed so loud it could be heard for miles my heart could not stop pounding with happiness.  Then as if out of nowhere a strong gosh of wind blew and pop went the twine (Crochet #0) and away flew my kite.  There was no time to waste straight away we plunged in to action running in the direction of the falling kite. As fast as the kite fell it disappeared more speedily. We now had to go from yard to yard over fences fearing dogs and angry shouts. Finally we got to the yard of an old lady and decided to ask her if she had seen a kite fall.  “Yes” she said, and then asks us to describe the kite. I slept well that night with my kite by my bedside.

Once upon an Easter

Chapter4: The Gardner

The time was the early sixties there was political unrest in Guyana schools were on vacation and my aunt was out on strike so was my uncle. There was rioting in the capital Georgetown, and political factions marooning the streets. It was getting close to Easter my brother Clarence and I were facing the daunting prospects of going without a kite. In Guyana it is traditional to fly kits on Easter Monday symbolizing the resurrection of Christ from the grave. We were moping around the house feeling sorry for ourselves and being lazy. 

Because Guyana experiences bursts of heavy rain at any time and extreme heat and sunshine the grass grow at an aggressive pace. It therefore happens on one of those hot spells that a Gardner came by and offered to cut the grass on our aunt’s lawn for a small fee.  My aunt Yvonne quickly agreed.  We as boys stood and watched in amazement as he used his scythe to swipe through the tall grass. Because of the extreme heat and humidity he had to take a break which he did. We sat around him in my aunt back yard and chatted with him and watched in amazement as he sharpened his scythe.

Once Upon an Easter.

Once Upon An Easter Chapter 3 "Milky"

Chapter 3: Milky

                              With the coming of Easter also comes showers and Campbellville always floods.  Mr. Kerry our neighbor had a Speed Boat which he would float down to the wide trench at the back of our homes. The name of the trench was called Milky.  And there gather all the boys of our street, we would go speeding up and down" Milky" in Mr.Kerry's boat. 
          Milky, was the water way where all the boys in the neighborhood learned also how to swim. 
Peter one of the older boys would lead us out to the middle of “Milky” floating on a log then take the log away and leave us in the middle. This called for desperate action a frantic scramble to the shore line suddenly we were swimming.        
           Going swimming in "Milky" was not however approved by my Aunt Yvonne. Therefore after concocting lies as to our reason for leaving home we would end up at “Milky”. Swimming naked as we were born. Best way to swim one felt a sense of freedom. After swimming for hours we return to the  bank's of Milky looking for our cloths which we hid under some shrubs.  Only to discover to our horror that they were gone.  My older cousin while we were having fun had crept up and grabbed our cloths. This presented us with a big dilemma how do we get home without cloths?  Hands between our legs and over our bottoms. Picture that?  In total humiliation as we walked down the street.  The girls of the neighborhood to see and laugh at us; then licks like peas when we got home. And if you don’t holler loud you get more lashes not an easy proposition never the less, we have to journey home. May be we wait till dusk? Still not good a proposition dusk is chilly and cold mosquitoes and Sand flies bite your tail.  
Once upon an Easter.
          Attached painting{ NO WAR}you may contact me on art or view on saatchiart.com