“Home is where your heart is”, isnt that how the saying goes? The home is where you feel the most comfortable, secure, and happy. For many years my home was not where my heart was. Years prior I moved from my family home to a new area. I had moved from where roots were made, roots were nourished and on the odd occasion poisoned. I moved from old pavements encrusted with old dog poo, old faces, old newsagents, old chip shops, old neighbours who knew my name to somewhere completely different. I didn’t know anyone, and I didn’t know the home I had moved to.Continue reading “Home”
“A Washbelly typically refers to the youngest child in Jamaican Patois, especially if that child is much younger than the rest of their siblings. In addition to being the youngest, the term can also denote that the child is spoiled and lazy”.
When I was a child I was obsessed with maps primarily the A to Z, my dad had an old decrepit one that sat in his drawer, in moments of boredom or curiosity I would take it out and look at it.
You have conditions…..
We have been exposed to (whether we like it or not) explorers of yesteryear. Stories of great journeys across the sea, courageous men ‘finding’ already inhabited lands, the brutal history being passed down to many a generation. We have all sat hunched over a textbook whilst simultaneously inhaling a B.O infused classroom. We listened to an underpaid, pre-menopausal teacher with sensible shoes and an equal hatred for her pupils. We learned about men sailing the seven seas, navigating lands they were not familiar with, and murdering people they had just met. We imagined the terrain, the maps that would have been developed off the back of these expeditions and we really lapped it all up.
A love letter to my son
I have always wanted to write a letter to you. I am doing this before you ask me for the tenth biscuit. I wish I could ask the same question over and over again without getting tired, it really is an amazing feat. I have remembered to charge your iPad, the iPad to which you are currently attached to and at some point, I am going to ban you.
I used to hate this stupid fucking term. People would say it (I felt) when they did not have any answers. I think I get it now..sort of…maybe..not really.
“I grew up in a household of saints and Sinners, each of us swapped roles from day to day. Someday Saint, someday Sinner”. A.Hylton
My immediate and extended family come from a long line of Sabbath Keepers. Even before I was thought of, my ancestors downed their tools on a Friday evening and watched for the golden sunset. They praised on the Sabbath and watched and waited for the Golden sunset once more. Before I knew myself my family knew God and were Seventh Day Adventists.
And here we are. I was bought up in a relatively ‘normal’ family. Mum, Dad, older brother and I …the wash belly (A Jamaican term for the last/youngest child).
I was meant to put this post out on or around my 40th birthday. But in true Alison fashion, I am fashionably late and I don’t care because …‘I’m grown’. I have spent most of the last few days in a buzz of 40th splendour, basking in the 40th ray of light, and being 40 and fabulous.
Today, I met many Queens, real life ones, and ones that were mounted in paintings. My cousin, Woman, Artist, Mother, and Queen spoke words into existence and they became real. On the 24th March 2018, I had the privilege of being part of Merissa Hylton’s first exhibition entitled Cosmic Queens. The day was filled with music, drummers, friends, family, love and laughter. Many came together to support and encourage an extraordinary young woman in her dream. A beautiful day for a beautiful Queen.