Reflections and Ole Talk

FOREWORD

Ole Talk is a popular West Indian term, steeped in tradition. Many regard it as light or idle chatter but it goes beyond that. There is serious Ole Talk which transcends idle conversations, exaggeration, or plain shooting from the mouth. It can involve talk on current events, politics, culture and school days, as well as trends in behavior and fashion. Ole Talk is any talk and can take place in any set¬ting. Parties and social soirees are perfect settings to Ole Talk. A group of people playing dominoes or other card games might, at the same time, engage in serious or frivolous debate whilst the tension of the game ensues. It is not unusual for someone to interrupt the chat by saying “under the Ole Talk, hear this,” only for a major discussion to follow on an impending hurricane. Ole Talk follows no rules of engagement. Talkers move with ease back and forth between topics of great importance and less so and of great importance again.

One aspect of Ole Talk is humor. This speaks volumes of the ability of West Indians to juxtapose adversity and hardship with hilarity. One can Ole Talk about a hurricane and the death and destruction it brings whilst extolling the humorous nature of everyday behavior.

In this book, Reflections and Ole Talk, I play the role of the Ole Talker. It is not a researched book and the thoughts emanate from my head in the way I remember them. This book is not based on detailed character studies. I relate stories and pieces written in free verse style, based mostly on my experiences of growing up in Grenada as well as my many encounters on return visit. The subjects are varied and like a true Ole Talker, I sometimes digress before returning to a topic. I ex¬plore themes that will grab the interest of people who live in the Caribbean, whilst also targeting those who left for England, Canada, America and other places years ago. There is always a yearning for the stories of yesterday and when done in the language or the Ole Talk which formed part of their youthful days, prominent memories are evoked. There are many people who find enjoyment in reminiscing about a life they knew so well.

West Indian slang and expressions are very colorful and there is music in the spoken word. Many of the words derived from English and French. I make use of such words to bring the messages across more powerfully. For those who are not too familiar with the terms used, I provide a glossary. There will be discussions over usage or spelling of the colloquial expressions I use. I chose to write them in the vernacular; the way I heard and remembered them and the way my peers interpreted them.

The book, though based on my experiences in Grenada and a little about Brooklyn where I currently live, deals with topics that people all over the world will easily identify with.

The stories are human stories. When Sweet Papa curses the politicians, one quickly realizes that there are Sweet Papas in all corners of the world. The curious nature of people is seen in the piece entitled Joe Joe Come Back, where a woman goes to great lengths to discover whether it really is Joe Joe who returns.

I remember writing a story in my typical Ole Talk style. I put that story on the Spice Islander TalkShop, a discussion forum popular amongst Grenadians and friends in the Diaspora and at home. I received an e-mail from an old man who told me that he had read my story and my mention of the boat, Carib Clipper, brought tears to his eyes. Decades ago, he had taken that boat to Trinidad. He emailed,

“I read your story and you made an old man very happy tonight.”

It is my wish that this book, Reflections and Ole Talk, will cause people all over the world to feel happy.

Anthony “Wendell” DeRiggs
TATOES.

REFLECTIONS & OLE TALK........Finally Here!!

THE COVER AND BACK OF MY NEWEST BOOK" "REFLECTIONS AND OLE TALK"

Remembering Mother

“Morning Georgiana, Good morning, morning!”

The voice, laced with the rich musical pulse of Grenadian cadence was that of your neighbor Mrs. Cinty.

“Good morning chile, ah dey by the galley” came your reply.

It is easy to speculate on how the word “galley” came to be associated with the house kitchen. It is a word that is mostly linked to the area on a ship where food is prepared. I am happy we had a galley and I thank you for the many times you found yourself by the galley for it meant that we had food to gratify our palates. And yes, you were excellent at preparing the varied and appetizing dishes. All the neighbors loved your cooking. They were often pleasantly greeted with the enticing aroma as they walked by and many times you called them to indulge because you loved to share. The food that addressed their nostrils was as warm and pleasant as the neighborly words Mrs. Cinty uttered. You shared your food and you joyfully shared your knowledge.

I cannot forget the afternoon I came home from Schaper School and I met a young man called Rabs near the house where we lived. He saw me and teasingly exclaimed,

“Bwoy don’t put your mind on the oil down Tanty Georgiana make, ah done ate your share already!”

He was only joking for my plate was waiting for me on the table. For a moment though, I pondered what he said for I knew how much you loved to give. It would not have mattered to me if it was pumpkin soup that was prepared but oildown I was never eager to sacrifice.

Sharing was your second name and it was highlighted on the occasion you cooked a huge pot of rice and chicken and gave it to a few young men in Springs near Mr. Gilbert’s yard. They sat there and eagerly devoured it. It gave them added reason to call you “Tanty Georgiana” It was an era when the words Mother, Mammy, Aunty or Tanty were given to elders who bore no biological link to the ones who uttered the words. Those loving words were heard in Gouyave, Sauteurs and all over the place. It was not uncommon for a young person to greet an elderly woman with the words,

“Morning, Mammy!” or “Aye Tanty!”


The young ladies came to you to learn the intricacies of knitting clothes for babies, icing cake for a wedding or to improve their cooking. You were a teacher and you exercised great patience as you passed on your skill and expertise. Today, your words still echo. I heard them when you taught Susan how to knit the baby vest.

“Knit one, pearl one, knit two together twice” (I hope I got that right)

I took note while I sat doing my homework or munching happily on the tambran balls, sour sop ice cream, sugar cake or guava cheese that you made so well. And there were times I snatched a fried fish from the frying pan or reduced on the content of a condense milk can while you were busily engaged imparting knowledge to the young ladies.

Ahh! Those childish pranks!



The word chile was a term used not only for children but grown people as well. I sometimes reflect on the words and phrases that made their way into our lexicon. You were noted for using them. When neighbors inquired about you, you simply remarked,

“All is quiet on the western front”

Later I learned that statement was pulled from a movie by that name.

I remember other sayings that you were fond of using:

You make a child you did not make the mind
Waste not, want not
Cleanliness is next to Godliness
Charity begins at home.
Drunk or sober, mind your business
Tom drunk but Tom no fool
Patience could melt a stone
I was guided by many of your sayings.

Thank you!

I also recall the time I was sent to Mr. Marshall’s shop to “make ah message” and I lost the five dollars you gave me to purchase the sugar and flour. It was difficult telling you that I lost the money but when I did so you calmly said:

“The less you have the less you shall have”

I loved the beach but to get to the beach on Sundays I had to beg. I realize now that you cared for me and you did not want to see any danger befall me. You knew of the time I almost drowned in the sea near Melville Street so you were always reluctant to allow me to go to the beach on my own. But I begged and begged. There were times I started begging at ten in the morning for I knew you would get fed up with me by two in the afternoon and let me go. It became a sort of ritual that often worked. I pleaded with you in my youthful, cry, cry voice,

“Mammy can I go to the beach, I won’t stay long, all dem bwoys going.”

You knew how much I loved apples and each Saturday when you came from the market with the groceries you had something special for me. You called it an “ item”. When you said the word “item”, I knew immediately it was an apple. The smell of apples lighted up the house like the pine tree we used for a Christmas tree.

Those were the days!

I am sitting near the window. A cool spring breeze is coming though. I cannot see the wind but I feel it just the way I am. Somehow, a feeling of lost or longing is embedded deep in the pit of my stomach. Thoughts of you spring to mind. You are gone but you are not forgotten.

Wendell DeRiggs

BOOK SIGNING

Anthony W. DeRiggs signing his book for a fan

BUY NOW...Island Reminiscences and Other Selections

Island Reminiscences and other Selections

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