Foreword:

This letter came to me in a vision! Auditory hallucination, more accurately, but that hardly sounds… biblical… but it came to me in the form of a slow clear voice whispering like a groaning tree in my ear as I struggled (as usual) to get to sleep. While it was happening it felt very real to me, the air around me seemed to pulse and crackle with energy and my body felt as if it were vibrating.  Despite this, the truth is, that the fact that this letter came to me in this fashion is almost meaningless, this is just how my imagination has always worked. My creative output is as often as not the result of some intrusive sensory glitch(?). I mention this only to say the following: 

1. My visions are real and profound to me, but I know they are not real.
2. I am comfortable sharing them in my opinion based blog.
3. They are similar to weird declarations about God using earthquakes to move oil veins closer to Barbados inasmuch as no such nonsense belongs in a national news publication.
4. I am puzzled by the hopeful tone of the letter… but it’s probably nothing… 
5. Apparently I can’t help being snide 

​

Dear Barbados,

I am deeply troubled and, quite frankly, slightly offended by the recent (officially sanctioned) call for prayer and silence in response to the most recent spate of violence in Barbados. It with a heavy heart and weary mind that I write* this letter to you, but I am compelled by the feeling that not to do so would be to renege on my (albeit self-designated) responsibility to our tiny little nation. I am after all, as many are at pains to point out every hurricane season, a Bajan. And while “Bajan” is by no stretch of even the most elastic imagination, the only nationality I can claim, as a Bajan I want only the best for my Barbados.

I vacillated about writing this letter for several days because, as I’m sure you can appreciate, I am loath to create the misperception that I am in some way anti-prayer. It should come as no surprise to you that I like prayer… that’s why I invented it. Before I go any further I do want to point out that, while I don’t want to appear to be anti-prayer I have no such concerns regarding appearing anti-moments of silence. In fact I am unabashedly anti-moments of silence. What the hell (pardon me) are you calling for a moment of silence for? The absolute last thing Barbados needs regarding our violent crime is yet more silence.

But I digress, I was saying, I like prayer, I understand how prayer can be valuable. I appreciate that violence is terrifying and prayer can afford many great comfort. Also, while I’m not saying that I’m above (pardon the pun) a miracle or two (more on this later) isn’t it reasonable to expect that I too must have faith in man? Is it too much to imagine that, as you’re made in my image and all, that I would  hope (have faith) that you would be discerning and proactive enough to use the sense of community that prayer often engenders as a starting point … as a place to truly think about what is causing the violence, truly think about it… not hide behind convenient myths and comfortable clichés. I would think that, as you have the attention of so many people of like mind, you would at the very least start a meaningful conversation about violent crime in Barbados … is that too much to ask?! Instead I have to listen to people proclaiming that since the few days of prayer they’ve “noticed a decrease in crime”. Let me tell you something!! I had nothing to do with that, what happened there (as I’m sure some of you are recognizing now) was a lull. It was a mathematical inevitability… that’s how nature works… things ebb and flow… I ought to know! And the other day I read in the papers (before you say anything…I don’t have to read the papers…I know the news before it happens, but I like reading) some idiot saying that people need to double down and pray and fast!!!! STOP IT!

I didn’t create this problem, I’m not fixing it… you can pray and fast until you ascend to the glorious incoherence of glossolalia or until I come back come back for all I care (and I’m seriously considering not returning) I’m NOT fixing this!  

I have to tell you, and this may come as a surprise to some of you… I like prayer… but sometimes I’m sorry I invented it… it has turned out to be more of a nuisance than the devil.
There really is no gentle way to put this…

FREE WILL!!!! 

USE IT!

GOOD ME MAN!!!

I don’t get it! I could have made you in three seconds?!! Three seconds!! I who can manipulate the structure of atoms, I who can control the very fabric of time, I who made the glue that holds reality together… human beings aren’t that complicated… trust me! A head, two arms, two legs, bubbies for some, balls for some, some get both, some get none, basic internal organs… done! I could have done that in the blink of an eye… but no! I took my good time and I crafted free will, and intelligence and imagination to give to you. Do you even appreciate how subtle and complex a gift that is? Or how much effort it took to make? It’s because of free will that I decided to rest for a whole day.

Why do you think I would go to such great lengths, give myself so much work??? Precisely so you WOULDN’T have to bother me for every blasted thing!!! God do this, god do that, god stop the violence, god fix the economy, Jesus take the wheel, lord come for your world… ME DAMMIT!!! And… while I’m venting… STOP PICKING ON MY BOY! Why is it that every time there’s a crisis you’se got to bring up Jesus? Talking about, one, “the people have turned away from Jesus! We need more Jesus in the schools…” really? Jesus is in the schools every morning at assembly, the place is peppered with Christian youth groups… what more you want from the boy??! How about courses in problem solving and conflict resolution? Huh? How about that??! And how can you reasonably claim that people have turned away from Jesus? All you have to do is listen to yourselves on any given day… calling out for Jesus all day… every stumped toe, lost car key… orgasm!!! It’s all we hear up here…”Jesus Christ… Jesus Christ…”

SUS CHROIS!!

Sorry I got a little… wrathed there…

What I’m saying is… for my sake use your ME given initiative. I really did put a lot of time and effort into it, it works… trust me. You have to stop humbugging me…  have you ever asked yourselves why I stopped doing big flashy miracles like parting seas and talking donkeys? In those days people took the initiative. Moses didn’t pray for me to stop the Egyptian man from beating Hebrews he bust loose the man’s head and buried him in the sand (probably not the best example I could have used given the context... but you get the point). I hadn’t invented the internet yet as a result Moses couldn’t google, “how to organize a mass exodus”, so I spoke to him directly. When I parted the red sea the people were prepared to walk… I often think that if I were to do such today you lot would immediately start praying for airconditioned buses to take you across… there’s a reason your old people used to say “God helps those who help themselves.”
You can’t seriously expect me to come all the way from heaven just to fix simple problems that I’ve already given you the ability to solve. You can do it… have some faith man.

LOVE
         THE SOURCE.

PS.
Obviously I didn’t inspire this letter… this is nothing more than a writer’s cynical use of a literary device to communicate an idea. If you’re offended remember it’s satire, that’s how it works, it’s not too mysterious the ways in which satire and metaphor perform.
(I really, really can’t help being snide 😊)**
 

 
 

You know those ridiculous plastic bags that they have on rolls in the fruit and vegetable section in the super market? The ones that are essentially impossible to open? Well, once I was in the super market fumbling with one of these bags trying my damnedest to get it open.
After fighting with the bag for what seemed like ages I came up with the desperate idea of blowing sharply on the edge of the bag. when I did so the bag made a high pitched squeak and I had a very visceral memoryof my nursery school days and a girl called Renee who used to make the same noise with a piece of paper and a comb (we all thought she was a genius... we were four years old)
The memory was sudden and unexpected and it made me cackle out loud. One of the packers asked me, " Ras wha happen that you laughing so?"
I said, "This bag reminded me of a girl I used to know!"
He said, "Because you can't get it opened? Ras you is something else!"
Before I could respond a woman behind us, who had obviously heard the exchanged scolded, "That's not funny, you have no respect for women!"
They both left me there knowing that if I lived to be 187 I would still not live long enough to convince them that I was not thinking what they were thinking!

​Nala (The $2 Philosopher) 

The other afternoon I was walking past the bus terminal behind a group of excited school girls, from their uniforms (skirt and shirt) I would say they were fourth or fifth form girls. They  were, in every sense, typical teenagers, completely oblivious to their surroundings, self involved (in a healthy teenaged way), loud and animated, and every so slightly smelly (all school children smell funny at the end of the school day... teenagers especially).
On top of that, these girls were trying their own simplistic version of womanhood (another typical teenaged behaviour) on for size; this manifested in an overly excited conversation about a schoolboy who they clearly thought was, "hot is cunt" (very sexy) and what they would do to him if they caught him "offside". It was a completely silly exchange, and while my memories of my own adolescence forces me to acknowledge that it is entirely reasonable to assume that some of the young ladies may well be sexually active, the naivety of their conversation was undeniable.
I thought it was hilarious, so when the elderly lady walking on my left turned to me and asked me, knowingly, if I heard what the young ladies were talking about I assumed that she shared in my amusement and offered, "They're just being young", as a response. The next thing I knew I was in the middle of one of those, "the problem with young people today", conversations that I try my best to avoid. 
"Young girls and all they studying is man, man, man! I don't know what happened with these young people..." 
I probably should have kept my mouth shut, but I'm not built that way, and I was still amused, so I stupidly said, "I'm pretty sure they're talking about a boy... not a man."
"You right! Children having children! How these children get so?"
She went through all the cliches, young people are violent, they're sex obsessed, don't know right from wrong, need Jesus and have no respect. The respect thing has always tickled me because it assumes that we (the un-young) are inherently deserving of respect. In reinforcing the idea that young people have no respect she mentioned her 62 year old son who still treats her with the utmost respect despite the fact that he is a big man.
I have always found this kind of conversation difficult, and as I mentioned before I find it hard to keep my mouth shut. So I challenged her at every turn. "No I don't find today's youth to be different from any other youth!" "No I don't find them more disrespectful these days!" "I don't know about you but when I was a teenager I used to be studying sex... a lot". 
Eventually she got frustrated with me and suggested that I should be more respectful (lol) of the wisdom that her 77 years of life afforded her. I caught it immediately; the fatal lack of introspection.
Do the maths! In many ways this interaction was the perfect metaphor for how we are failing today's young people by failing to look critically at ourselves.
Nala (The $2 Philosopher) 

I saw Roots in the seventies. The original one, I haven't seen the remake, I might, but I haven't seen it yet. But I saw Roots in the seventies and Roots in the seventies was groundbreaking and almost consciousness changing. It's not farfetched to imagine that many in and around my generation can identify Roots as having some hand in shaping their race awareness and politics. Roots was awesome is rass-hole.

I understand the importance of the remake, though I don't think that given the current landscape it can be as impactful as its predecessor.

​It was silly of Snoop Dogg to call for a boycott of Roots in his rant, but his weariness at seeing "niggas getting dogged out" I understand.

I don't get why Snoop Dogg's rant about Roots was important enough to get upset about. This may be because I don't get celebrity culture. It has always baffled me as to why every nonsense uttered by a celebrity on any subject is given as much weight as it is. Snoop is a boss rapper and when he talks about rap and the rap game... I'll hang on every word... the other stuff not so much. 

I understand why some of the people that called Snoop out, did so. He wanted fucking calling out, he's one of the ones who got out from under. Snoop really should focus less on what other people are doing, and more on what he could do.

I'm not sure how relevant his past, no matter how sordid, is. 

Calling Snoop on his bullshit made sense, being dismissive of his perspective... not so much.

I think that, distasteful as his ideas may have been to some, Snoop Dogg does speak for a small subsection of black people when he expresses what, on the surface, seems to be frustration at Roots. 

I think Snoop Dogg is frustrated at the feeling of being forced to wallow in the fact of his abuse (whether the feeling is based on reality or not).

 The frustration of being forced (by life) to wallow in the fact of your own abuse is real I'm sure of this because Snoop is not the only person that I've heard voice these sentiments and though I don't agree with Snoop, I too often feel the weary desperation of having to see "niggas getting dogged out" (yet again... or still) 

I am sick of the argument that tries to say that because slaves owners used the word "nigger" black people should not appropriate or refashion it. This is not to say I approve (or disapprove) of "nigga", but the argument is simplistic, reductive and completely lacking in an understanding of how language can evolve.

Saying "nigger" on radio and TV only became a fucking problem when black people started to take the stingers out of the word and make it their own. 

"The N word" is far more offensive than "nigger". One at least owns what it is, the other is cowardly (either say it or don't)

It is a grotesque false equivalence to juxtapose the making of holocaust films with the making of slavery films. To do so ignores that the two groups (that the films represent) have very different relationships with the sociey they live in; on group is reminding the world of their historical suffering from a power position, the other is still largely underfoot. It ignores the reality of who owns the film making platforms (One set of narratives is almost gauranteed awards in that context the other...not so much). To dismiss the "topic fatigue" some black people feel, by pulling this bullshit juxtaposition out of your arse is to dismiss the very real psychological suffering of you brothers and sisters (I use those terms for the people claiming "wokeness").

It seems to me that if we are to truly heal we need to be far more honest and understanding with ourselves about where we are in the struggle. We need to be less willing to chastise and more willing to nurture, brutally honest about when and how we have failed ourselves, and far more robust and vocal in celebrating our triumphs.

Nala (The $2 Philosopher)