J'aime Paramin

A Trini Poem for You

Trinidadians are a special people of dat there is no doubt, Doh care what odders say of how dey run dey mouth. But of all de special talents dat we Trinis possess, Is de way we talk dat ranks us among de best. At de street corners, in de shop or at work on any given day, Is to hear us speak and carry on in our own special way. De colourful words, de antics and de accent all combine, To create a whole language dat has stood de test of time. De way we express ourselves and de way we converse, Is truly an art of which every Trini can boast. Look at de many words dat we Trinis create, Just to make it easier for us to communicate. Words like bobbol, skylark, commess and bobolee, Are words dat yuh cah find in any English Dictionary. Coskel, boobooloops, lahay and dingolay, Mou Mou, bazodie, jagabat and tootoolbay. So when yuh thin and frail, we say yuh maga or merasme. And when yuh fat or overweight, we say yuh obzokee. And when something small, we say chinkey instead. And we say tabanca when a woman tie up a man head. And a person who lazy, we call dem a locho. And an inquisitive person is simply a maco. Is our colourful history, yes our glorious past, Dat give us a language dat very few could surpass, So many Trinis doh speak patois again. But we use words like doux doux and langniappe all de same. So mauvais langue is when yuh bad talk people yuh doh even know. And a lighted torch we still call a flambeau. Maljo is when yuh put bad eye on everything yuh see. And when yuh shake and shiver, we call dat malkadee. And patois give us so much place names like Blanchisseusse and La Fillette. And left over food from de night before we call macafoucette. And East Indian words yuh could guess so easy. Like doolahin, beta, bap and dhoti. And we love dalporee, bodi and khumar, Baigan, barra, sahina and kuchela. Jadoo is magic dat women is use to get dey husband house and car. And if yuh talking nonsense it so easy to say gobar. And for animals and fruits look at de names we does use. De pronunciation and spelling is enough to get yuh confused. Chenette, pommecythere, pomerac and sour sop. Pewah, dongs, balata and mammy seepot. And Trini does hunt for tatoo, agouti and lappe. And instead of ants, we does say batchac. Trinis fraid macajuel, batimamselle and crapaud. And de big black vultures we call corbeaux. Trini mouth does water for crab and callaloo. Doh talk 'bout cavindajh, pelau, pastelle and cascadoux. For seasoning shadow beni beat back all de rest. While veti-vere does make de clothes smell nice and fresh. And when we talking is like to a special rhythm dat others doh know. We have to move de whole body from we head to we toe. Watch how de hands does move as if we killing flies. And when we vex is cuya mouth or roll up de eyes. And sometimes is de mouth alone dat does all de work. Is to hear us laugh out loud when we hear a good joke. And when we laughing de mouth does open wider dan a carite. And when it come out with "Oui Foute" or "Mama Yo" it does sound real sweet. So doh laugh at we and think we antics funny. Is what we need and use to talk more effectively. But watching us talking and moving from right to left, Yuh swear is sign language to talk to de deaf. And we have a communication network dat is one of the greatest around. It beat back any newspaper, TV or computer dat dey have in town. So Maxie does tell Jane a secret story or a tory. And in two seconds Jane does run and tell she boyfriend Gary. And den Gary does tell he partners liming on de corner, So de whole ah town would know 'bout two hours later. But when de story reach back to its original source, Is never de same, it always off course. Yes, gossip does change a story from a dongs to a grapefruit just so. Where de new story come from nobody doh know. So always be careful who yuh liming with and what yuh speak, 'Cause before yuh look good all yuh business on de street. And when we start to argue is trouble in de gang, 'cause we does argue everything except de issue at hand. We Trinis does start off on one particular topic, And in no time at all we does stray from it. We does go round in circles, yes viky vi. And end up giving picong and mamaguy. But when things get heated, den de real trouble does start. Words harder dan rock stone does pass in de brew. And if yuh only take sides, yuh go get a good 'busing too. And some does use de poor ancestors to make dey attack. Dey would trace de whole family tree from yuh mudder go back. And when dat doh work, some does turn to the anatomy, Talking 'bout parts of yuh body dat dey never even see. And telling stories is a special talent we got. Trinis could make up a story right dere on de spot. Listen to a husband when he reach home late, He would never say dat wid de outside woman he had a date. He go tell his wife 'bout parang or late night class. How he working overtime and de car run out of gas. And when de cocaine disappear from de police station without a trace. It easy to blame de greedy rats and done de case. And dats why we does have Commission of Enquiry every odder day. So each one could tell de same story in a different way. But when it come to stories, politicians are de very best. Promising brighter days and a better life and nothing less. Yes, Trinis smart and it is little wonder den. Dat up de islands dey does say "Trickydadian." So talk for we Trinis is a way of life. Is how we assume ourselves and deal wid strife. Listen to de sweet talk of a true Trini male, Dat could win de heart of any Trini female. And every spectator does turn a coach at a cricket or football match. Shouting out advice for bad play or dropping a catch. Man we know how to talk before we could creep. We could out talk all odders in one clean sweep. A Trini who cah talk will laugh instead. And if he cah do dat, he better off dead.

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From Trini Talk: Dialect Poetry and Stories. Copyright © 1994 Miguel Browne
Used with permission by Miguel Browne.
Page created and maintained by Alana Ochoa Trafford

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REASONS

There’s the place in me where only you can go

There’s the part of me that only you can know

There’s the way only you can touch my soul

There’s the love we have built for us to hold

There’s the way you look in the morning

The first time we kissed,

The fire in your eyes

The first time we touched,

The first time we made love

There’s the history we have shared

The memories to hold 

There’s all the plans and dreams as yet to unfold

There’s the love I have all welled up inside

There’s the joy and pain of starting all over again

There’s the knowing that life is always better with you

 

A Short Poem

I have been playing with this idea for a while now. It's just a short poem that I wrote sometime ago.

I cannot make you love me, I cannot make you care.

I can only offer you my hand, and hope your hand will reach out and be there.

I cannot take away your pain, I cannot change what could have been.

I can only offer you the comfort of my heart, and hope your own heart will let me in.

I cannot make you love me, I cannot change your mind.

I can only tell you what I feel and hope you understand.

I cannot erase the doubts you have about me only you can teach yourself to trust.

I can only hope you will one day see that this was meant to be.

There is so much I want to give to you, so much I want to share.

But how can I if you will not let go break free of your fear.             

Paramin Chive

It just occurred to me that I have been doing the J’aime Paramin Blog for almost a month and not once have I mentioned chive. How can this be? What would Paramin be without chive? Just what is chive anyway, and where did it come from? How did it get to Paramin anyway? I mean come to think of it there is a whole lot about chive that we all need to know. So welcome to the Paramin University of Chive.

Chive or scallion or green onion is a member of the allium family of plants that lack a fully developed bulb. The West Indian variety, which is most commonly found in Trinidad and Tobago and Jamaica, is named Allium Ascalonicum. This variety is said to be more flavorful than it’s North American and European cousins. The official name for the plant in Jamaica is Escallion but is pronounced Scallion the E is silent. In Paramin this variety is called Creole chive. It is believed that the name scallion originated from the Philistine town of Ascalon. (Yes we are talking ancient biblical lands.)

I know of three types of chive that is grown in Paramin they are Creole, White, and Seed. Creole chive has already been identified as our own local variety, while Seed chive is the imported North American version. Our Creole chive is more flavorful therefore it is to our own detriment to completely replace this unique variety with seed chive. I have been unable so far to identify the variety we call White chive. That may be a research project for the department of agriculture at the University of the West Indies. It should be noted here, and this is extremely important, while Creole chive will flower if left unattended, in Paramin it is cultivated in a unique way, which relies on the taking of young plants from the parent plant cluster. In the dry season these parent clusters are sometimes uprooted and left in a dormant state where they are best able to survive the harsh dry weather conditions. Once the rainy season begins they are then replanted. This means the original plant clusters in some family gardens in Paramin could very well be hundreds of years old and may have first been planned cultivated by the first settlers of this hillside community. One more thing of interest is the bundling of chive, parsley and thyme, what we call zebbie, and I hope that is the correct spelling, is also done in Brazil where it is called cheiro verde. Could it be that the Romany families that settled in Paramin introduced the cultivating of these herbs. The connection being official historical records seems to indicate that the Romany clans came from Portugal just like the chive growers in Brazil.         

As with all agricultural products chive in Paramin has an economical as well as a cultural aspect to it. In Paramin farming is the main industry, it is also the largest employer of the workforce both male and female. Chive historical and cultural value has had a huge impact in establishing its economic importance. It remains the core crop that drives the long term sustainable income of most families. Because it does not require the initial demanding labor intensity of cabbage and tomato farming and provides almost constant work along with good consistent income it was relegated to the realm of woman’s work. Hopefully this attitude has changed in the last twenty years, as chive is a major contributor to Paramin’s gross domestic product. An argument can be made that chive is harvested for about seven months in every year. There are about four thousand families in Paramin and out of these three thousand are actively growing and selling chive. If the average annual income from chive for each family is just ten thousand dollars the total revenue generated will be about Thirty Million Dollars. With this kind of revenue and employment generation every Paramian as well as the government have a vested interest to seek out more opportunities for that most wonderful and extraordinary herb we call chive

   

We could continue to talk about the other applications for chive but I think it best to end the lesson here for today.                                           

    

Paramin Seasons

Paramin is foreday morning. Dawn spilling over the Santa Cruz Hills,

and bathing the neatly manicured gardens in a soft burst of crimson, amber and gold.

It is the cool, still dew covered leaves of cabbage and the sharp crackle they make

as knife meet stem and hands catch, and pack lobor's love tenderly in baskets of straw.

It is man and woman standing together in fields of green with dew soaked pants hems,

and damp earth clinging to fingers and nails. It is the smell of chive, parsley, and thyme

dancing on the fragrant morning air,as it gently caresses your face, your hands and your clothes.

It is remembering December rains even as the coming season rides the dry winds of January.

It is thanking God for this day, the strength to go on, and for the harvest of the land.

Paramin is all of this and still it is so much more.

Paramin is Carnival. Blue devil and jab jab, and the Deejay playing the music so loud.

It is young girl and young boy caught in the beat and turning into man and woman

right in front your very eyes.

It is the junction full of people like so many sardines in a can, jumping and dancing.

Dancing as if they insane, and jeeps still trying to pass.

It is man with just a little to much rum on the inside looking at woman wineing

on other man and thinking, Lord if that was me trouble take she tonight.

It is the season of mas and pan and too much to drink and music coming to an end too soon.

It is the sound of the water truck, and barrels lined at the edge of the road.

It is young girls balancing buckets of clothes on their heads, hands swinging free,

as they make their way home from a day of endless washing by the river.

Paramin is all of this and still it is so much more.

Paramin is sitting on a bag of flour by Fatcow or Lau or Saboss or Zabell,

with a cigarette in one hand and laughter, and old talk, and a couple of friends,

watching village life as it goes by, as the last of the crop money in your pocket

grows thinner ..... and waiting.

It is whe whe in the Formage and pool and whapee all night long.....waiting

It is a ten days here, and a little work there, and maybe a beach lime.....and waiting.

It is watching people go to work in town, and passing jeeps and Friday

evening drinking beer in Fartima junction....waiting.

It is clearing land,and making bordage and pureshing hole....and waiting.

Always waiting for the first rains, for season's change, for life to begin again.

Paramin is all of this and still it is so much more.

Paramin is the spell Saut D'Eau beach have on you to keep you coming back.

last year's promise on your grand mother's grave and a bottle of rum

that you're never going back, always seem to vanish

when the season turn to May and you remember the statue of Saint Peter,

standing tall on the sand in the bay.

Coming to the end of the hike down from the Bar,and seeing the sea, and Saut D'Eau Island.

Hearing the siren rhythm of the waterfall and the river calling you to once again become one with the sprit of this sacred place.Knowing with everything you are, that today, today this is where you were meant to be.

In the evening climbing up through the forest to reach the Bar again, tired, breathless and in pain.And falling down on the soft sweet earth, feeling yourself sink into her cool, moist awaiting comfort.Drifting ever further away, as you gaze into the boundless blue sky. Swearing.....Swearing on your grandmother's grave and a bottle of rum that you're never going back again.....Until next year.

Paramin is all of this and still it is so much more.   

Paramin is the first heavy rains of July when the river come down and stay.

It is transplanting baby tomato and cabbage on terraced hillsides. And Chive turning from green to blue as they fullay in the new season of water and rain.

It is hope for a better life and a better crop reborn. Very much in the same way as the earth gives nature new life and she too is thus reborn.

It is young boys stoning mango and climbing trees of pomarac and plum.

It is rounders in the Formage and football in the grounds and allfours everywhere.

It is a time of weddings and cakes and life beginning anew.

It is young women standing sideward peering into mirrors,with trembling hands holding clothes firmly to body, looking.....looking. Some with panic and some with joy.

And some still disbelieving that they too have new life growing.

It is a time of funerals and wakes, quaw quaw, hot sweet black coffee, and rum.

Crys of man gone man dey, for these too are seen and cherished also, as symbols,

rituals of life and of new beginnings.

Paramin is all of this and still it is so much more.

Paramin is the school dressed up for the harvest and it is the harvest as well.

It is the laughter and the joy of a people coming together to celebrate the bounty of the land and the new found bounty in their lives.

It is children all dressed up for church but playing in the schoolyard and begging parents for a little more money to spend on games of chance.

It is young men and young women dreaming of harvest night, of courtship and new love.

For harvest is the season of blossom when those chosen and blest by love take their first welcomed steps into the dance of life.

It is remembering your first time under a harvest moon. Of walking her home, and stopping, and touching, and smelling, and discovering the secret that is woman. And in remembering, holding her just a little colser, as you stand in the silver light of that harvest moon in the schoolyard.

It is remembering and being alone looking at the faces about you and seeing hers standing next to her new love. And then seeing her eyes finding yours, feeling your stomach catch a hold of your breath stopping time. For in the suspended heartbeat of that glance lives a lifetime of blessed memories and deep regret. So you turn away, but not before the distant promise of her heart's desire whispered softly so long ago is once more made reviled to you by the stillness of your own heart.

And so you smile through the hurt and the pain, knowing the two of you just shared the same thought at the same time. And just for a moment you both wondered, what if......

Paramin is all of this and still it is so much more.

Paramin is Christmas. Fruits socking in cherry brandy and rum in earthen jugs since May turn into mouth watering black cake drenched in even more rum just for that added taste.

It is the ages old custom of shedding the blood of a pig or a cow in sacrifice.So that the very sap of life becomes a part of the celebration of the feast of life that is Christmas. For Christmas is not a day, but a season unto itself, that starts in November and ends with the rain's end in January.

It is a home made light with much cleaning and painting and cooking and newspaper spread on polished floors.

It is the smell of baking ham and cakes and pastels and new plastic tablecloths and floor polish all rolled into one.

It is the song of parang and the opening of your home to anyone who can sing a few words in Spanish.

It is sharing all that you have with everyone simply because it is good and right for everyone to give even if it is just a little. It is a heart brought closer to the true understanding of God by the living of life as it should be lived.It is the sound of bursting bamboo and the excited laughter that comes when playing with fire.

Paramin is foreday morning, dawn spilling over the Santa Cruz Hills and so much more.