Girl

Below is a piece written by Jamaica Kincaid, a poet from Antigua .  A friend of mine sent it to me on a whim, and I read it at the perfect time.  To me its an incredible representation of a young female in a poor Caribbean country and the relationship between a mother and her daughter.  The annoyed undertone of imparting these "life lessons," and highlighting the young girl's missteps are sentiments that resound in the poorer neighbourhoods I've visited in St. Kitts.  The mother's shock at not having raised a confident and self-assured woman is interesting; she believes her to-do list is the only developmental tool the young girl needs, that this rapid-fire list of tasks needs no questioning or revision.  Perhaps what is most interesting to me is that "Girl" was written and published in the 1970s and its themes still resonate today.

Girl
Wash the white clothes on Monday and put them on the stone heap;wash the color clothes on Tuesday and put them on the clothesline to dry;
don't walk barehead in the hot sun;
cook pumpkin fritters in very hot sweet oil;
soak your little cloths right after you take them off;
when buying cotton to make yourself a nice blouse, be sure that it doesn't have gum on it, because that way it won't hold up well after a wash;
soak salt fish overnight before you cook it;
is it true that you sing benna in Sunday school?;
always eat your food in such a way that it won't turn someone else's stomach;
on Sundays try to walk like a lady and not like the slut you are so bent on becoming;
don't sing benna in Sunday school;
you mustn't speak to wharf-rat boys, not even to give directions;
don't eat fruits on the street - flies will follow you;
but I don't sing benna on Sundays at all and never in Sunday school;
this is how to sew on a button;
this is how to make a buttonhole for the button you have just sewed on;
this is how to hem a dress when you see the hem coming down and to prevent yourself from looking like the slut you are so bent on becoming;
this is how you iron your father's khaki shirt so that it doesn't have a crease;
this is how you iron your father's khaki pants so that they don't have a crease;
this is how you grow okra - far from the house, because okra tree harbors red ants;
when you are growing dasheen, make sure it gets plenty of water or else it makes your throat itch when you are eating it;
this is how you sweep a corner;
this is how you sweep a whole house;
this is how you sweep a yard;
this is how you smile to someone you don't like too much;
this is how you smile at someone you don't like at all;
this is how you smile to someone you like completely; 
this is how you set a table for tea;
this is how you set a table for dinner;
this is how you set a table for dinner with an important guest;
this is how you set a table for lunch;
this is how you set a table for breakfast;
this is how to behave in the presence of men who don't know you very well, and this way they won't recognize immediately the slut I have warned you against becoming;
be sure to wash every day, even if it is with your own spit;
don't swat down to play marbles - you are not a boy, you know;
don't pick people's flowers - you might catch something;
don't throw stones at blackbirds, because it might not be a blackbird at all;
this is how to make a bread pudding;
this is how to make doukona;
this is how to make pepper pot;
this is how to make a good medicine for a cold; 
this is how to make a good medicine to throw away a child before it even becomes a child; 
this is how to catch a fish;
this is how to throw back a fish you don't like and that way something bad won't fall on you; 
this is how to bully a man; 
this is how a man bullies you;
this is how to love a man, and if this doesn't work there are other ways, and if they don't work don't feel too bad about giving up;
this is how to spit up in the air if you feel like it, and this is how to move quick so that it doesn't fall on you;
this is how to make ends meet;
always squeeze bread to make sure it's fresh;
but what if the baker won't let me feel the bread?;
you mean to say that after all you are really going to be the kind of woman who the baker won't let near the bread?

You are worthy

My entire adolescence has been intrenched in religion.  I was raised Catholic and up to a certain point lived a Christian life.  I wore a pretty white dress on my first communion, reconciled my juvenile sins with our resident priest, went to confirmation classes and officially became a Christian adult while completing the second sacrament. Since then my relationship with God has changed.  I don't discount the presence of a force outside of human law and cognition, but its form isn't as important to me as is the necessity to live as a kind, generous and gracious person.  I believe in certain aspects of religion, and know of its power to bring people together, to provide salvation, and to spread love.  Adversely I know of religion's capacity to breed hate, to exclude and to suppress.  My experiences with religion in St. Kitts have jarred my opinions a little, as its placement in a developing country has a completely different function. 

In most parts of the country church attendance is high, and there are a plethora of churches from which to worship.  We've managed to attend church twice so far - and this is not from lack of invitations courtesy of our boss and landlady.  I've been weary of attending services  due to the surprisingly brazen introductions I've had to the topic, as the approach to religion on the island is similar to that of the Southern United States.  Along with inquiring after your name, a question about religious affiliation is not far behind.  The question is not whether or not you go to church, but rather what church you go to. I opt not to admit that I am currently a Christmas and Easter Christian.

The services we have attended here have been at Moravian churches.  I've appreciated how we have been welcomed with open arms, given the opportunity to introduce ourselves, and been individually greeted by church members; yet as I sit and listen to the sermons, read the hymns and hear the parishioner's responses, I'm left with the bad taste of servitude from a tarnished spoon.  One phrase I've heard repeated over and over again is "we are not worthy." It is spoken with hands held high, heads hung low, and shortly after the donation basket is circulated. It's spoken to and by a pastor who drives a luxury car to his home in the hills, to a congregation of parishioners who walk to church in their best outfits and shoes, and leave the donation basket filled to the brim with more than they can afford.  I've grown accustomed to a certain amount of hypocrisy in western religion, the wide acceptance that human beings sin, and somehow through prayer we are forgiven. I don't agree with it, but I see it for what it is.  Listening to dozens of people put their problems in to prayer, and only prayer, is different.  The difference lies in this perception of being worthy in--and more importantly--outside of religion. 

This projection of being unworthy, of preaching a message of servitude to a community who's history is dominated by colonialism and slavery is irresponsible.  It continues a culture of oppression that this country's history is riddled with. By no means do I think that religion in the developing world has no place, I just believe that salvation should not take the place of liberation in pursuit of a better life.  Its hard to hear someone praise God for her Cancer remission on an island where there is no Cancer treatment available and its harder still to hear the congregation's support in praising God for her good fortune, rather than demanding better healthcare services, you know, in case prayer fails.  Can't these collective voices be used for progress along with prayer?  There seems to be a missing link that demotivates the voice for change, while a megaphone blasts the lord's prayer.