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The Village Quilt Series (Ep.4)
The ones that came. Dedicated to my narrator: Mohamed Swideek — my “brother ”. This piece on our quilt begins its journey in Allahabad, India. In a small village consisting of a collection of small wattle-and-daub huts in Allahabad, India, lived a father, mother, son, daughter, daughter-in-law and three grand- children. Like most of the […]
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The Village Quilt Series (Ep. 2)
Dhanukdhari’s skill as a bone setter was well known in the district. Word of mouth advertisement was of great help in spreading his natural gift and skill in fixing broken or fractured bones and easing the pain of a sprained ankle or finger. Dhaukdhari had arrived in British Guiana as an indentured immigrant with very […]
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A Year in Futility (Kurubuku)
EPISODE 3 : THE UNEVEN TENOR OF OUR DAYS One morning, in the middle of a drill session, Hazel came in to the kitchen puffing and panting looking like death warmed up. She flopped down on the dirt floor and cried out in pain. One of the crew quickly handed her a cup of hot […]
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A Year in Futility (Kurubuku)
EPISODE 2 – THE KITCHEN CREW The Lieutenant called a muster to set our roster and assign duties. A bird had told me back in town to apply for special medical permit due to skeletal problems which would exempt me from drills and marches. But first, let me tell you a bit about “Lieutenant” as […]
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Series end: Episode 1
After sixty-one years of living with my husband, he died this year and now, I’m alone but I’m not lonely or sad. So you, and all else want to know what I will do from this time on. Let me tell you…. I will arise and go now and go to InnisfreeAnd a small cabin […]
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A Year in Futility (Kurubuku)
EPISODE 1 – THE TRIP UPRIVER The SS Torani had already been docked by the time we drove up on to the stelling at Rosignol on the Berbice River. My husband, my older daughter, my son, my little daughter and a relative accompanied me to see me off on this stint in Kurubuku. We were […]
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A Year in Futility (Hope Estate)
EPISODE 3 : The Artful Dodgers You recall Pa from across the dam? Well, Pa turned out to be my wasta (my “know-somebody-inside”). It came about that on this particular Saturday morning, my three friends and I were assigned to go to the canals to chop away 100 years of muck. I saw Pa under […]