A Lil Trini Speak

My Trini heartbeat

Moving from Trinidad to USA was no easy task for me. I remember crying almost everyday during my first year. I knew 1 or 2 people, the place was huge, McDonald’s food was shit (what the hell was all the hype about), money was all the same colour, Spelman girls were too loud and good Lord, are these people even speaking English (I hate the southern accent)? …and it hadn’t even gotten cold yet cuz I came in August. There was a lot of adjusting to do…and then of course, I’m sure that all of us at some point had to deal with the “do you swing from trees” or something along those lines questions. All of that coupled with the fact that the only experience I’d ever had with America was Disney at a young age didn’t make things easy. I’ve been here 28 years now and after all this time, all the ups and downs, adjusting to the American culture, Trinidad is still my home. I never refer to Atlanta as “home”; I’m a Trini girl thru and thru.

In my opinion, one of the biggest adjustments we have to make is the way we speak and I’m not talking specifically about our accent; it’s the terms we use (hell, u see I’ve had to create a Trini dictionary on this blog cuz so many of the terms we use make sense only to us). Some of us come here and turn into what we refer to as a “fresh water yankee”… in other words they come here and develop a thicker, stronger American accent than people born and bred here. Some just develop a slight twang of sorts, some just conform and start using American terms or pronouncing words how they do and i would say that it’s, for the most part, all in an effort to make life easier for us. At some point, u get tired of not being understood and having to constantly repeat urself (to this day every time I say “the first” of the month, people think I’m saying the fifth). I speak much more slowly than I used to and I pride myself in still having my accent although maybe it’s not as strong as it used to be? I remember one time being so insulted when a cousin’s spouse told me that they didn’t think I was from Trinidad -coulda bitch slap that person right there and then. I always give one of my good friends a hard time when we go out and he asks for “war-derrr” instead of “war-tuh”. One time daddy went to a store to buy AA Duracells and he eventually got tired of not being understood as he was saying “bat-trees” so he asked for a “badder-ree” and he was pointed in the right direction.

I never really appreciated the things we say and how we speak until I left because up till then, everything was just normal. It wasn’t till I left that i realised that the things we say/words and phrases we use are foreign to other people especially here in the US. These days I can honestly say that I LOVE how we speak and all the various terms and expressions we use. Moving around in our daily lives, as we do whatever we do, it’s not easy to spot another Trini but from the time they open their mouth to say something? we know – and it could be the accent or simply something the person says. So one day I went into Shepherd for my therapy and there was a lady sitting there waiting too. She was on the phone, I heard her talking but i paid her no mind…I eh go lie, sometimes I get curious of people’s stories…did they have MS? How long? What was their progression? especially depending on the state of their disability…but that day, I was in my own world. Then I got a call, had my conversation and hung up…And then I heard, “so which part yuh from and how long u dealing with this schuhpid disease?” Wha? You see, “which part” and that pronunciation of the word “stupid” is all us. Where did this person come from? It was the same lady (she’d been behind me the whole time)…hearing her on the phone before, I would have never pegged her as Trinidadian. I smiled…u see it’s always good to discover a “kindred spirit” ..and we exchanged a lil small talk about being diagnosed, not being at home and dealing with our mutual schuhpid disease before Rebecca came to get me.

that’s it today…nothing really ms related. Allyuh have a great week, ah gone so!

Goodbye Shurlan

I said goodbye to meh boy Shurlan yesterday. It still is all surreal to me; I still can’t quite wrap my head around the fact that he’s gone – completely gone. After attending a funeral last year, I made a conscious decision that I don’t want a funeral; it just too somber, too sad, too drawn out and I don’t want that to be everyone’s last memory of me. Well after attending Shurlan’s funeral I realised that they do not have to be sad and somber etc. and if I change my mind about having a funeral, his is what I want mine to be like. Remember that this is only my opinion now and if I sound harsh/heartless I apologise. In the church there were no reminders beyond the obvious (that we knew that we were there for his funeral) that we were there for a funeral. No casket, no pictures of him at the entrance of the church (pictures always get to me), no pictures of him in the program, no eulogy.  The priest who officiated knew him personally and so when he gave his sermon he punctuated it with actual stories/jokes etc. The only time we saw a slideshow of pictures of Shurlan was at the very end after the service in a hall next to the church where refreshments were being served…I really appreciated that… it made it a little less sad for me. Everyone was grieving of course because it was a sad occasion but there were no reminders everywhere we looked.

Today is Friday and I had plans of publishing this post this morning because I started it last night, but alas in the middle of typing it I got another call that someone else had died. At this point, i eh go lie I am so very tired of death it’s not funny. J’s mother died last night and he called me and I changed all my plans to ensure that I was available for him and his brothers for however they needed me. They are the little brothers (I’m the eldest…they are all my little brothers…regardless of size lol) that I never had. Steups

after the church service we went to Shurlan’s house. I don’t know how/when the Trini thing of drinks/lime/music/good times after someone’s death started but I’m sure that it is done so that just for those few hours, the family members and those left behind can forget about the sadness and reality of the situation and just have a good time.  We were “Jammin Still” as the “happiest people alive” throwing “Splinters” on the bottle and spoon with the iron man…it was a great send off. I eh go lie though, I got the most emotional when the bikers showed up. Shurlan was a member of a motorcycle club and when they all showed up, the music was cut and for 5/10 mins all they did was rev those bike engines…it really was too much to handle for a number of people who were there…just experiencing that brotherhood sigh!….Shurlan meh boy…ride hard, ride fast, ride in heaven where I know u are.

Shurlan and Sandi

Thank you for indulging me for the past couple posts…I guess we’ll be back to ms next time because, of course, I have some things to talk about.

 

No…no…no

I’m beginning to think that I should stop travelling in in July. Last year I went on vacation and came back to 3 deaths. This year I went home for my 30 year reunion from high school and 4 days after returning, I learnt of the devastating news that a friend was killed in a motorcycle accident that morning. A car turned into his path and he died from his injuries. I’ve since heard that apparently the driver was arrested.

Shurlan was not someone with whom I spoke regularly, but he was one of those people I knew I could reach out to in certain situations and I could trust that he would steer me right. We didn’t see each other often but when we did it was genuine happiness on both sides. We actually grew up a street apart in the same neighbourhood but he was younger than I so I barely remember him from there. Our mothers played hockey together and to me that’s how we knew each other.  He moved to Atlanta in the early 2000s (I think) and it was right here that he died. He was a man on his own beat. One of the things I always admired about him was that he always did his own thing and he didn’t seem to give a fcuk what anybody thought about him. He did his thing and marched to his own drum…in the words of another friend “he had a flare about him for the wild side” and another, “all the tings I was too scared or self conscious to do, Shurl do”. Lol that really sums him up nicely. He was a genuine character who told it as he saw it and kept it real and I’ve heard that sentiment iterated by so many people within the last couple days.

its an odd thing for me. As soon as I turned 40, I began thinking about death more than I’d like to admit to the point that I remember having a stern conversation with myself and said, “SELF. U really need to stop with this shit. Next thing u know, u call it on urself! stop it!!”…I don’t do it as much these days but anytime one of my peers/friends/someone close dies, I think about my own mortality and I always think about their last moments…were they in pain? Did they know what was happening? Were they even awake and cognizant at the time? I can’t help it. At risk of sounding very cliched, we really must live like there’s no tomorrow. I think this is worth reposting:

This is my favourite picture of Shurlan that I’ve seen floating around Facebook. Goodbye my friend, u’ll be missed by many. It appears that he was in a motorcycle club and I pulled it down from one of their posts.

Ride in heaven meh boy!

 

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