Summertime

FIRE FIRE - Performed by Brent and Becky Law, Written by Chin Ingeti

"GEORGIA"

Stretching

As a kid, sometimes I was a pest or a royal pain in the a** harassing my sisters and once in a while they would just get up and sit on me. Or sometimes they had this thing called “Chinese torture” and would pin me on my back (or front) and then rap methodically on my chest or back with 1 or 2 knuckles… Not meant to hurt (too much) but to let me know to get lost or that they’d had enough.. but sometimes they would sit on me too long, or rap on my chest too hard or someone would get a knee in the eye or an elbow in the rib and I would end up being the one crying, and my parents would say. “oh stop it, you were asking for it” or “suck it up” and now I know that nobody was intentionally hurting anybody, but sometimes I felt like nobody was standing up for me.

Fast forward 20 something years and often I thought people who seemed to get hurt over words and other superficial things were weak, unbalanced, or whatever… weird, lame. And I’ve been the one dishing it out. Telling people, maybe not so bluntly or even consciously but in some form or another to “suck it up”, “get over it”, or “ you were asking for it, can’t you take what you got comin’?”

Then I met Becky, my wife, whom I love with every part of my being. She means the world to me and I would never intentionally hurt her, and yet I am continuously stumbling over ways in my words, my actions or lack of, that hurt her. She is the most sensitive person I know. And often I have to search very deeply within my own feelings to understand how “such and such” could hurt, why it could not be brushed off, discarded and forgotten or understood in a non-personal context… or whatever.

Thank God for mercy, Becky has begun to understand me and understand that my queries are merely honest questions and not personal attacks, or understand my comments in the context that I mean for them without taking them so personally. And I am slowly (very slowly) becoming more conscious of the deeper meaning of my words, or actions that go beyond their intent to what could actually be inferred. But I am not looking for miracles, this is a life-long search for understanding each other.

The Middle Banana

If you were about to eat a banana and there was a bunch of them sitting on a table looking at you, which one would you choose? This is a question I had the pleasure of thinking about (while laughing) during my trip to Trinidad.
My brother-in-law is awesome, he had everybody cracking up over this situation, I unfortunately was not there when it occurred but I will tell you hearing the story again was so funny.
It seems that a bunch a bananas is more than it seems, The middle banana Is the most juiciest and unspoiled of the bunch. Call it the Jesus Banana if you please, what ever , it is the Best banana. It seemed that a Bunch of Bananas was brought and laid aside for Cindy, I mean it was a nice bunch!
Suddenly out of no where a very hungry John Bowman decided that the banana’s were too delicious to just look at , he had to savor the yellowy goodness..
NOW here is where the story begins to get a little “twisted out of bunch”, Instead of taking the juicy banana on the end, John proceeds to take the middle banana! ( your eyes are beginning to water) . Its untouched by hands, Its safely nested in-between the other banana. It is like a little sister being watched over by his older brothers, so that nothing happens to it. It has no dinks no presses no black marks from hand battles. YES, that banana was very specifically chosen by John,which in all good fair- ness, PISSED my brother in law off. I mean I would be pissed off too!! Why would he take that banana? Can some body explain that to me. (I am tearing up right now) it is too funny. You see when you are a good judge of banana you don’t settle for the edge banana. However, If you are a good husband you don’t settle for someone stealing your wife's middle banana either!!!
The moral of this story is simply this. Hide your middle banana from John Bowman. And I am dead serious Chile! LOL

Killer Snow Bunnies

When its cold out.
Actually let me rephrase, When its Freezing out, For example –25 to –47, some of the locals in the Yukon gather together to play a game called KILLER BUNNIES. Brent and I were introduced to this heart wrenching game by the Johnsons and Allens just yesterday. The point of the game is to murder and eliminate bunnies, whether it be your own or the innocent timid or fluffy bunnies of your team mates. Whether you play creatively , diabolically, kindly, dumbly, intelligently or otherwise your bunny's gonna die!! And your not likely to win this game unless you have the magic carrot, which could be any carrot that the game possesses. You could win with the happy carrot or the VODO Rastaman carrot. Its actually a very therapeutic game, After being pent up inside for days at a time , You realize how heartless you can be, or how kind and loving, (the latter never applies to anybody playing this game.) If you decide you want to participate in this "UNFORTUNATE EVENT" you will be dubbed a heartless bunny killer.

Needless to say I tremendously enjoyed this game.
I have grown to appreciate the new friends that I have here in the Yukon. And I really understand how and why my husband is as adorable as he is. Who Would have thought that I would learn all this by playing a game of Bunny Murdering.
The Yukon Rocks!

- 44

When the moisture in the room after you make love freezes on the window sills in huge ice chunks, you know you are not in Trinidad anymore. The reality has stuck. I heard People say that it is easier to breathe at these temperatures, that its scientifically proven, I say shut up. You don’t know what the hell your talking about.
My fact is that I cannot breathe properly at these temperatures. When the breath out of your mouth freezes as it comes out of your mouth or the snot in your nose hole crystallizes as you walk out of the door, or every crease and opening in your body becomes a playground for ice, I believe the word for that is FROSEN!! And I cannot breathe.

Its like living outside a space shuttle. People think its insane.

People who live here would laugh at me , I mean – 44 is a balmy temp. I hear this a lot up here in the Yukon. Its warming up to –34. Warming up! Warm doesn’t describe minus anything.
I have met folks up here who have survived in -77 in the Yukon. Things break at temp below 40. They break and get destroyed. Don’t even think of touching anything metal with your bear fingers it burns.

I left my wet swim suit in the car after the pool, and came back the next morning and it cracked. My swim suit chile.!!!!.
Anyway, I cannot make excuses not to get up and go to work at –40, There is life at those temperatures. No one stays home unless its –77. People Bike and walk and run and most often die of depression if they cant do just that when its cold out. I on the other hand have to find courage. Yes Courage and face the day, cut wood and haul it inside to keep my house warm and cozy for my husband when he get in. I still have to twist my dreadlocks and make sure they stay in tact when its frozen stiff. I cannot afford for them to break.

However, no matter how cold it gets out. He will touch me and say I am beautiful and suddenly my dreadies start to unfreeze.

A new set of eyes

Coming to Vancouver from Trinidad , a baby girl like me would not have figured myself to fall for a white guy. I know what your saying… harsh words .. But hear me out before you judge me and call my mother names.
I have always had a fear of the opposite sex, and an even greater fear of a sex outside my race. I wouldn’t have expected anyone outside my race ( unless it was a dark Indian dude) to fall for me. And I really wasn’t looking in any direction other than what I was used to ,in any case.
So On arriving to Vancouver, and realizing that I was a very sure Minority, I expected NOTHING for myself. And any black guy that I saw that took interest I wasn’t surprised.
Meeting Brent was not easy, He saw me before I saw him, and honestly so, because to me, all white men looked alike. And don’t laugh I have heard it said that all Asians look alike and Black people and so forth. Anyway, I am sure that Brent could name more than one occasion when we were in touching distance from each other and I never even saw him.
I wasn’t looking in his direction and If I was he would have faded into background .
I was dating a halfy (black and white mixed) guy when Brent and I started talking and making music. You think you know where this is going but you are wrong.. It was ironic that we should have both ended up in place where friendship was amazing and not confusing just when I was about to leave for Montreal, to a life of party and drinks and loud laughing and dancing with people that were like me in the secular sense. My ex’s friends were funny and creative and loud and strong. I think I loved his friends more than the idea of moving to Montreal. I was born there but I had never been there. But the longing to be accepted and have fun fun fun, was dimmed when I suddenly and finally saw Brent.
He emerged from the faded background and played a chord on his guitar and looked at me and slapped me with music and a reintroduced me to God. He took me back to my roots and I made friends with people who were ready to show me back to my path , my calling , my purpose. Anyway, I am not saying that I was so far gone and Brent was an Angel sent from GOD, all I am saying is that I didn’t ignore a beautiful friend, and I didn’t ignore my doubts about moving to Montreal, I didn’t close my eyes to the reality that I was going to be lost to a place that was further from the place that i am now. All i am saying is I didn’t walk away from a calling that was really a scream.
Its different being married to someone that’s different from you, but its just what the doctor ordered. I have fun in my life and creativity and color, I have huge debates with B and through them I realize my own thoughts and the thoughts of others that are different from my own. I am able to appreciate myself and where i came from and accept the diffenences of others. I see things through the eyes of a loving husband and I show him things through my own eyes.
I am not a one track minded person like I was. I am not fearful of anyone anymore. Ah well sometimes I am. But I am so welcoming of change like I never have been before. My family now have the opportunity to share in something most of them never have. And most importantly I am happy. However thats just where my story begins...