We would also like to note that in our last issue, we mistakenly misprinted the article ‘Nappiness’ Is A Gift, You Give Yourself, by Onika Nkurmah, starting it in the middle rather than at the beginning. CaribbeanTales would like to apologize for the error and invite you to read the full version of the wonderful story in the previous issue of our newsletter.

CaribbeanTales chats with him about his work and more…

Could you tell us a bit about your background and growing up in St. Kitts and Leeds?

I was born in St. Kitts, but I did not grow up there. I lived there for the first few months of my life, and then my parents migrated to England. I grew up in Leeds in the north of England, in a predominantly white working class environment. I had contact with the Caribbean community in so much as I had cousins, aunts and uncles there, but where we geographically lived, and where I therefore went to school, was pretty much white English.

What does Europe, especially England where you grew up, mean to you today?

I read the English newspapers every day, which is probably the best answer I can give to this question. In other words, I remain interested and connected. Similarly, I am interested in what is happening in Europe, particularly in those countries with a colonial history such as France, Belgium, Holland, Spain, Portugal, etc. countries who are going through similar problems of coping with a multicultural population in the wake of decolonization and continued migration.

When did you start writing? How did you get into writing?

I started to write at school, but I had no notion of wanting to become a writer. It was only when I was a year or so away from leaving university that it occurred to me that this is what I wanted to do with my life. I had no experience of writing – had attended no writing workshops or anything. I therefore just sat down and started to write, and I was pretty disciplined about sending out my work to publishers and magazines. It all came back to me ‘rejected’ but at least I felt as though I was in the game in some respects. Eventually, a theatre company in Sheffield accepted a play that I had written and I was able to feel as though I was ‘in the game.’

What are the pleasures, for you, in writing fiction?

The greatest pleasure in writing fiction is being able to work at my own pace in isolation. Finding the right word to place in the right place in the sentence is satisfying. As is the feeling of relief when the characters begin to finally discover their own voices.

How has your extensive traveling around the globe influenced your writing?

I have been very, very fortunate to have been able to travel quite extensively since my twenties. Travelling frequently to Africa and Asia in particular has enabled me to see Britain and Europe in a broader context. Travelling constantly to the Caribbean has enabled me to see myself through a lens that Britain could, or would, never provide me with.

Who or what have been your writing influences?

I have no one influence. Reading assiduously as a teenager has been a great influence. I loved Pasternak, Hardy, Solzhenitsyn; large narratives in which one could get lost and discover new worlds and people. I also loved the psychological acuity and dramatic skill of Ibsen and Tennessee Williams in particular. And I discovered Richard Wright and James Baldwin at an important time in my life. These days I still read for pleasure but I have quite an eclectic reading list.

In what ways has your Caribbean heritage impacted your writing, if at all?

My Caribbean heritage has been important in that it provided me with an alternative view of looking at the world. The socio-cultural and racial fusion, and confusion, of the Caribbean seems to me to better reflect the reality of the real world – as opposed to the relative ‘narrowness’ of the view of the world as seen from the USA or Europe. I’m happy to explore and absorb this alternative view and feed it into my writing.

Do you consider yourself a storyteller? If so, what stories do you tell?

At the most fundamental level this is what I do. I tell stories, some of which are true.

At Caribbean Tales, we focus on the importance of reclaiming personal histories especially through the genre of storytelling and oral history. Does this resonate with you and within your work?

I don’t have any oral storytelling history in my family – or none that I am aware of. Reclaiming personal history does strike a chord with me; this is what so much writing of the Caribbean and the Caribbean diaspora seems to focus on.

How did you hear about Caribbean Tales and what do you think is the value of such a project?

I heard about it through the internet. And of course it’s valuable. Anything that seeks to place value on the imagination is, in these days of reality television and computer games, important.

What projects are you currently working on?

I’m always working on things that I never talk about! Eventually what I do becomes public, and no longer ‘owned’ by me. While I own it I keep it close to my chest.

The operation was partially successful
in that the life was saved
But the patient escaped during his rehabilitation phase
And it was at that point in time
that the tiny twin island state of TRINBAGO,
which among its many distinctions
included both a Mr. Universe,
and two Miss Universe title holders,
an Olympic gold medalist in the one hundred metres,
the highest score by a batsman in test cricket,
the eighth wonder of the world
by virtue of its incredible pitch lake
and for a period of some twenty five years or so
the person who held the post of chief minister of state
was reputed to be
the third most intelligent person on the planet
capable of debating issues of national concern in Latin,
became the first country
on the planet
to produce

A CYBORG

. . . walk forty miles in a day,
barefoot to boot
on hot pitch
burning like a bitch,
to this you may say " NO WAY!"
But MAHAL
could easily cover the distance
from Port- of - Spain
to San Fernando
all the while
shifting gears in style
and wearing a big broad smile,
this distance by the way
on any given day
is sixty five miles
I dare say

In his khaki shorts
his calves rippling muscles of corded steel
MAHAL barefeet
and with no shirt to his name
would cover the island
touring in his invisible mobile
being careful to follow
all the laws relative
to the Highway Ordinances Act
he kept to the side
because his vehicle
was of the slower moving sort
but he always made sure
to make all of the required signals
with unmistakable style
breaking all the while

But when he pulled into
a town or city
panic would ensue
as all drivers there
were seized by the fear
that they might park their cars on the very spot
where MAHAL had left his
for in instances like this
impelled by a wrath that knew no bounds
violators of the sacred space
where he had left
the invisible mechanical side of his being
would be threatened with dismemberment
and scolded with lyrically precise
cadences of obscenities
that flowed like lithe litanies from his lips
for taking such liberties.

Did you enjoy this article? Read more of Sandy Macintyre's work at AHANAIE, World Music Collective.

It is a story shared by many migrants to Canada – those from the Caribbean, and those who are not.

Born of Chinese-Vietnamese parents in Thailand, Johnny arrived here in Canada as a small child with his parents who were fleeing political turmoil and the prospect of a bleak life in Communist Vietnam. Now, glad to be where he is, Johnny can’t thank his parents enough for their hard-fought battle to secure him a life he may never have had.

He achieved all of his academic credentials in Toronto – from elementary education through to high school at Emery Collegiate.

Feeling stifled by too much theoretical studies while at high school, in 1998 Johnny started freelancing as a Graphic Designer Assistant at Truespectra, a server imaging company where part of his responsibilities was to assist in the development of sophisticated software for delivering multimedia over the world wide web.

Straight out of the Ontario College of Art and Design where he studied for four years, he joined LEDA SERENE FILMS in Toronto, Ontario, in 2003 where he started working as a website assistant and is currently the Technical Coordinator for the company.

After some considerable amount of persuasion, Johnny allowed me a moment to disturb the flow of his hectic schedule to find out some facts about him and his work.

His studio inspires the spirit to work the minute you walk in – state of the art editing and designing equipment, stacks of computer software - legal and certified copies, by the way - amongst them there are volumes of computer program manuals – all arranged methodically on his shelf.

Can you briefly introduce yourself to our Caribbeantales readers and tell us what you do?

Johnny Vong, here. I’m just your typical techie, a web developer, graphic designer…been doing this stuff since 1995 as an obsessive hobby. I’m as exciting as rice cake.

So, this is more of a hobby than just a way to earn a living?

Well, it’s to make a living as much as it is something I love to do.

And how did this relationship with machines start?

My dad is a mechanic. He is a bit of a tinker, always fixing stuff – like, cars, appliances and a whole lot of gadgets. So, we can say it’s genetic. I got my first computer at age 14, started to do as many things with it as possible, and, the rest is history…

Johnny was the only one who owned a computer amongst his friends at the time that PC’s and the Internet were just becoming popular.

And due to that fact, every time I broke my computer I had to learn how to fix it myself. Man, I must have crashed that machine a thousand times.

What influence have your parents had on your work or life in general?

Not much work-wise because my dad actually wanted me to be an Engineer … he still does. He used to bring home these Engineering magazines everyday and tried to sway me into it that way, but I had different interests.

You were very young when you were brought to Canada, do your parents tell you about your place of birth and about their life when they were growing up?

Like most immigrants, they do dream of going back one day. The place where I was born was actually just a stop-over place for my parents who were on their way to the "Land of Opportunities". We ended up in Canada instead... for the better, really. One interesting story, though, my parents told me as a child was when the boat they were on was jacked by pirates. And my mother was pregnant with me, and they robbed her of everything she had at gunpoint. As lurid as it sounds to people like you and me who watch pirates, ol' Captain Hook on TV, this situation with my mom is no different than a violent carjacking.

Do you have a history of oral storytelling in your family or culture?

I rarely have conversations with my parents. It's unfortunate, but it's the kind of culture and language conflict that you read about, you know. I am very much Western, whereas they are very much Eastern. But I can't help but empathize with my parents who struggle not only with me, but with Canada too. As far as oral storytelling goes in my culture... I'm not sure... didn't the Chinese invent paper?

Does storytelling or oral culture figure in your line of work, if so, how? How has that impacted you personally?

Not really in my professional work, but in my personal work, storytelling especially "good" storytelling is an art form and lifelong practice. I'm of the belief that it's not so much what you tell - if you think you've got a unique idea that's never been done before, you're probably wrong - rather it's how you tell it with your style and sensibilities, that's exciting. Finding interesting and idiosyncratic methods of storytelling is what drives me to do what I do.

What do you think are the comprehensive benefits of a project like caribbeantales.ca beyond serving people of Caribbean origin?

I think the true value of caribbeantales.ca is its dedication to these books and its writers. I mean the Web is a vast place, and it would be idiotic of me to suggest that we are doing the world a favour. We are just putting it out there for people, people have choice, and they can read whatever they want. We are just putting arrows out to guide folks towards this extraordinary literature, and hopefully draw some new readers.

Around The Fire! will be crying out from within the warm, maternal ‘kangaroo pouch’ of Caribbean Tales, a quarterly online newsletter showcasing Caribbean literature and oral culture.

ATF’s mission from above is to promote and honour the works of Afrikan writers plying their trade in the continent and our brothers and sisters responding to the drum beat from beyond the home seas. This is a wonderful opportunity to expose Afrikan talent to the world out there and, at the same time, uncover to the audience in the motherland the brilliant work of Afrikans in the Diaspora. So, please, come join the party and warm yourself around the fire to celebrate and share your Afrikan stories and be honoured!

Talking about honouring, this thought hit me when I was at home during a family ritual prepared for my mother, “ho hlobola” or "ditlhobolo" – a Basotho (my ethnic group) custom whereby a widow, after completion of a set period, ceremoniously removes "lesela" (a special dress made for her to wear as a sign that she is still mourning the death of her husband and therefore not ready to re-marry.) It is at such ceremonies that one gets to see one’s relatives who live far away -- all gathered together. I realized that age had caught up with most of them and almost a quarter of them needed a few reminders before they recognized a certain offspring from extended families. They would all start by saying, “Whose child are you?”, if they couldn’t recognize you. If getting the parents’ names still would not help, they would then proceed by asking, ‘Who amongst your siblings, (if there are any), comes immediately after you and who was born before?” - and so on and so on. These bits of information links provide a clue for them until they remember exactly who you are. At their age it takes more than mere vision, which would be waning in any case, to recognize people – they rely on family links as a guiding compass towards remembering members within extended families, especially grandchildren. This experience advanced to me the value of family history records and the importance of keeping them. The first interview in this section was inspired by that particular experience.

‘Embalming’ our heritage has, over the last decade, climbed up to a bit of preoccupation status in South Africa; families are encouraged to draft records of their family history and create family trees. A couple of years after democracy, prominent public figures in the country began a feverish process of changing their European names, mostly forced on them by the apartheid system, and reverted back to their original Afrikan titles. Some rushed to family elders to remind them their cultural names - those without such identity would ask the elders to give them one. A process that, in some cultures, entails a customary ritual to inform and ask the Gods to accept the new name.

Back in the days our efforts were about making the world understand our struggle against apartheid and help us destroy it. Now it is about making the world understand who we really are as people. Since 1994 special edition dictionaries have been issued dedicated especially to South Africa and its cultures. More versions are being compiled periodically by local lexicographers to keep abreast of the evolving South African lingo and the most recent one by Collin’s, which incorporates an interactive CD-Rom package, includes local celebrities and freedom fighters among its dynamic entries. So, the world is pretty much having South Africa at its fingertips.

A few months ago a number of South African personalities participated in a televised scientific research involving DNA test used to trace ones ancestors – a few Blacks in the test were shocked to find out that they had more European blood than fellow white participants. Equally surprised were some in the latter group when their blood was traced to mother Afrika.

As I am busy with this editorial, South Africa is undergoing a step-by-step process of paying tribute to some of her prominent political and ‘cultural heroes’ by way of naming streets and public buildings after them as a gesture of honour and to preserve their memory – lest we lose the link.

Back to the ritual - I had my Olympus digital camera, hoping to capture some important moments during the ceremony – but after that thought I decided to get down to it right away – documenting my family chronicles and preserving the records thereof. It is a very awkward, time-consuming task that involves milking family historical accounts from people who can’t even remember when they were actually born. They would first need to remember a historical phenomenon or highlight during their time to help get their elusive memory into the right gear. Then, once they get going they are always tempted to use the opportunity to wander off telling you about their heroics when they were young and active - especially the male ones – requiring you to rein them in every now and then. Their tales often have missing links, which now charges us to search for the fallen pieces and complete the puzzle.

So it is useful to try and seduce some answers from them while they still remember something - the good thing is that their long-term memory is phenomenal! I learnt very interesting facts about my grand-grandparents but often it would be something very sad and much to do with our painful history as blacks in South Africa during and after the height of colonization. My maternal grandfather, for instance, was used in a system elders remember vaguely as “ankort” - a practice whereby at least one child from each indegenous family inhabiting a piece of farmland is forced to work for a white master, without reward, as a way of paying rent on behalf of their families for staying on a farm forcefully taken from them by the same master.

Although these narrations can be depressing, hearing them gives you an opportunity to sympathize posthumously with your ancestors and to let them know you care – wherever they may be!

I’ve overshot my allocated number of words, so I’ll immediately stop. But let me just say this; no matter how painful the revelations might turn out to be, it is critically important that you preserve the accounts - after all you do need to know, don’t you?

We look forward to your responses and ideas on how we can nurture this ‘Afrikan garden’ and make it thrive. Plus we will be carrying more mental nourishment for the Afrikan at heart in our next issue featuring a well-known South African playwright, novelist and film maker, Mtutuzeli Matshoba, talking about the importance of history - don't miss it!

Enjoy your read and know your history, no matter where you are in the universe!

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