Letter To My Grandmother

March 30, 2021

TO MY GRANDMOTHER: LIFE’S LESSONS

I have fond memories of you, growing up a “St-Michael’s girl,” in that little Chattel style brown house on the Harbor Road; also, known as President Kennedy Dr., in the parish of St. Michael’s, Barbados. There are so many lessons I took away from our time together, but these four always come to mind.

*A cup of tea cures all ailments - just believe in the bush.

I remember when my body was courting a raging fever. A family friend popped by the house and told you to take me to the hospital, because I “had the fever far too long.” You listened to the advice, then left the house to run a few errands. When you returned, I remembered you being busy in the kitchen, telling me you were “boiling tea.” If I had asked what type of tea it was, you would have said, “Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies.” So, I kept my mouth shut and drank the bitter tasting tea. Soon thereafter, the courtship with the fever ended. From Barbados, to Montreal, to Wales, to Boston; a cup of tea never failed me yet.

*Rest a bottle of Cod Liver Oil in the hot sun – only a matter of time before it pops.

Mom had purchase a very large bottle of Cod Liver Oil. The tonic was a staple for my brother and I, served at room temperature in a large cooking spoon. The sight of the bottle caused our eyes to widen, and the smell alerted our brain to walk quickly or run in the opposite direction. Nonetheless, failure to swallow the tonic was not an option. I gave the bottle the “evil eye” as Mom pulled it out of a shopping bag. She saw my steer, then decided to place it out of children’s reach – on a high shelf, in direct sunlight. I smiled at my Mother’s actions knowing two things: Grandma would never put a jar on that shelf, and the Bajan hot sun had plans for the glass bottle. As hours ticked by, I watched the bottle and the Sun’s movement. Then, there was a faint noise; it sounded like the shell of a hard-boiled egg slowly cracking open. Then, the sound of victory – a loud “poop.” I quickly walked into the kitchen and looked up at the shelf, now covered in shattered glass with a fishy aroma. As Mom rushed to the scene, I smiled and thanked the Sun for a job well-done. Always be specific in what you manifest, dreams do come true.

*Mind your manners, even when the object of attention should divorce her whatless husband.

It seemed that every Friday night, or early Saturday morning, Ms. Ruby would walk up and down the Harbor Road cussing her husband’s name. Her voice arrived at our window before you saw her heavy built, full figure, tall frame body. On this particular Saturday morning, I rushed to the front window to watch the morning stroll by. I stuck my head out, breathing in the morning air when my eyes locked onto Ms. Ruby’s glare. She was cussing, with her hair un-kept, wearing a petticoat and slippers. She probably cut through the Gap – I didn’t hear her coming, and it was too late to back away from the window. I thought to myself, “This woman is so angry, if I mind my manners or not, I too would be cussed out.” She reached the corner of the house, when I mustard up courage, smiled at her and said, “Good Morning Ms. Ruby.” The cussing paused, as she replied, “Good morning dear.” A few kinds words, can change a person’s world.

*“Who don’t listen, will feel” – most importantly, live life fearlessly.

Remember the time you told me to stop taking short cuts through St. Leonard’s church grounds to come home. I debated with you – a short cut meant shaving off five minutes on my arrival time to see you. I didn’t have to walk all the way from Westbury Girl’s School (renamed Westbury Primary School) to the Harbor Road. Then you told me “Them” live along the short cut path, and “Them” drink the blood of little children – so take the long way home. I couldn’t believe you said that! I thought it was the silliest thing I’ve ever heard. No human does that! I dear not talk back to you – that would have certainly been met with licks. Now I had two goals: cut throw the path to save time, and denounce the claim that “Them” are not human.

The next day, after school, I was on my way, cutting through the path. In the distance, my eyes caught hold of a young family friend – news of my short cut will travel fast. I knew then, I was getting into a heap of trouble; but I wasn’t letting fear stop me. I was on this path, and I was going to see it through. I would get the answers I need to debunk a myth, learn more about me, because time was on my side.

And as I was getting licks from Grandma, I blurred out, “You’re wrong, they don’t drink the blood of little children, they’re human just like me!” I long to live in a world, where we no longer label each other. Where humanity is a united species.

These moments we shared together, shaped the woman I am today: ask questions, seek out answers, don’t shy away from hard conversations, respect nature and all she has to offer, and lean in on the ancestors for healing and truth. For that, I honor your strength, endurance, and resourcefulness. Your spirit lives on in these words.

Love always,

Your Granddaughter,

TCBest