I say You Is ah Racist. [Spoken word]

Uploaded by TTRN -Trinidad and Tobago Radio Network Limited
I SAY YOU IS AH RACIST
By Keegan Maharaj

So is why some Africans like to say they were born in Africa but they doh act like Africans? And some Indians like to say they were born in India but they doh act like Indians? And still I see less dashikis and even less saris and more hoodies and sought after skinnies.

And still some people think I should not be on this stage, that I smell like curry and coconut oil dripping down the side of my ears, and I can't wine in time and I must be a racist, and I can't play football, and I should not exist in these spaces, in YOUR places

That I should not know Africa is not a country but the second largest continent filled with glorious countries - 1.3 billion people, 12 percent of the race runs in Africa. But you more African than me so you know that Sudan is the heart, and that half of all diamonds and gold comes from no other place but Africa with oil reserves that could make the whole world black and six percent of the earth's surface already black.... with poverty.

But I am not allowed to say these things 'cause I might lose friends I never really had.

I wonder when the first man was walking in Africa over 7 million years ago, if he was preoccupied with the thought of an Indian man somewhere in the West Indies having a ..... like this for African things? I wonder if the first man was a racist? I wonder if he would be my friend, come home by me, drink dhal, break roti, eat curry and watch Indian movies with my granny? Not just because he is hungry or polite but because he knows we are brothers, just like you know we are brothers.

I wonder if the next girl I date happens, like all the rest, to be African, if her parents will like me, if my parents will like her, if people will still stop and stare at us, if little Indian children will make faces and turn their nose in directions unknown and if my uncles will call me a disgrace just to propel their hate for the African race?

So if Africa is for the Africans and India for the Indians, then my dougla niece in Brooklyn suck salt mixed with hate and venom in this lost generation of lost big people manufacturing lost little people.

And now the crowd will scream! We have sold our souls for nothing, and nothing plus nothing equals nothing.

And still you say you not a, not a, not a, not a, not a racist.

But if your actions cause the same pain as racism, then you must be a racist so doh try to pass for no black nationalist and doh try to pass for no Indian culturalist...yeah.

Source: The lyrics posted on this blog are often transcribed directly from performances. Although it is my intention to faithfully transcribe I do not get all the words and I have a knack for hearing the wrong thing. Please feel free to correct me or to fill in the words that I miss by dropping me a message via e-mail. I'd be forever grateful. Thanks in advance! ..............................................................................................................................


A Note From The Gull

Dhanyavaad, dhanyavaad, bahut dhanyavaad, Keegan Maharaj.

"Patria est communis omnium parens" - Our native land is the common parent of us all. Keep it beautiful, make it even more so.

Blessed is all of creation
Blessed be my beautiful people
Blessed be the day of our awakening
Blessed is my country
Blessed are her patient hills.

Mweh ka allay!
Guanaguanare

The Day Will Come [Spoken Word]

Uploaded by UnfetteredAndAlive
THE DAY WILL COME
By Keegan Maharaj

Sung introduction:
"Who knows the truth and who tells the lies and who makes us cry?
Who knows the truth and who tells the lies and who makes us cry?"

They say I'm an Indian so the only sun I know about is the rising one
but this is about a forgiving Son...
[People murmur under their breaths, "Indian man doing spoken word, boy!"]
...but like a thief in the night, the Son was here
and we slept like babies and we slept like adults and we slept though it all.
Lots of people took the time to look behind and forgot what was in front of them
And so on the four corners of this round earth stood tasteless pillars of salt
and slowly we crumbled without leaving a trace of the old world,
without knowing that God was here last night
dressed as seventy thousand child soldiers in Burma
and thousands of women in Afghanistan
who are not allowed to drive because men prefer they stay inside.
This is not a Muslim thing, it's a man thing.
Even in 2011, we can still see people drinking from drains
and eating from bins and not eating at all.
And dem boys from the black tie party filling their faces with black gold
bought from distant places where the sun refuses to shine
as "Yes, we can!" slogans and "Peace is the answer." banners
take precedence over the things that really matter.
As we relish in this common wealth, I think about the common poor;
people who eat the same thing every day - a big, fat nothing!
You see, I wish to grow old and shake the locks in my heart
and read books written by my counterparts and swim in streams of milk and honey
and purchase Trinidadian art sold in Paris painted by the sons and daughters of the soil
who understand that freedom is a sham we all bought into.
And now there is no running away from those jail cells
we locked away our innocent thoughts in.
Bound and gagged, I looked over my left shoulder
and there is nobody to tell me what I should be doing at twenty five.
So every morning, I wake up and I feel like I just ate my own vomit,
and not a small measure, but a huge helping
as child miners, whose shovels have now been replaced with thoughtless pens,
are taught to give up and give in by men who know better.
I feel sad for those kids in Trinidad!
just as I feel sad for the ones in Flatbush and Louisiana
who can't seem to find themselves,
lost in a sea of self doubt and food stamps without flavour.

Financial AIDS is words than HIV,
and this New World Order is like spaghetti with shit for meatballs.

But I know the day will come when we will be a better people.
The day will come when we will rise again!
The day will come when we will see that nothing is wrong with interracial marriages.
The day will come when women will be treated with respect.
The day will come when men will treat women with respect.
The day will come when women will treat themselves with respect.
The day will come when spoken word will be taken out of the bars and placed into the schools.
The day will come when people will stop clapping for everything and clap for something.
The day will come when love will become a reality.
The day will come when we will love who we are and where we came from.
The day will come when all of us will laugh and cry and lift each other out of this nightmare.
The day will come when young men and old men,
and young women and old women will build a bridge
walk over the generation gap and say, "Sorry."
The day will come when one of us will tear down that Columbus statue in the square
The day will come when the system will fall.
The day will come when Haiti will no longer be treated like our bastard brother and sister
but our freedom mother.
The day will come when Africa and India will rock the world again
in the first cradles known to man.
The day will come when someone from our era will become the Prime Minister
and on that day we will pray that he or she remembers this day,
and remembers all those dreams of freedom we used to talk about when we were young.
The day will come when we will grow old and weary.
And the day will come when we will leave this place
and venture to that place where dreams are all that's real.
The day will come when the day will come but today is not that day.
So I choose,
and you choose,
and we must choose... to stay awake!

Source: The lyrics posted on this blog are often transcribed directly from performances. Although it is my intention to faithfully transcribe I do not get all the words and I have a knack for hearing the wrong thing. Please feel free to correct me or to fill in the words that I miss by dropping me a message via e-mail. I'd be forever grateful. Thanks in advance! ..............................................................................................................................



A Note From The Gull

Thank you, Keegan Maharaj, for giving me permission to share this moving performance. With your faith and conviction, these are snake handling words. These are words that are urging us to seek deliverance and healing...

"17 And these signs will accompany those who believe: In my name they will drive out demons; they will speak in new tongues; 18 they will pick up snakes with their hands; and when they drink deadly poison, it will not hurt them at all; they will place their hands on sick people, and they will get well.” --The Bible, Mark 16:17-18.

"Patria est communis omnium parens" - Our native land is the common parent of us all. Keep it beautiful, make it even more so.

Blessed is all of creation
Blessed be my beautiful people
Blessed be the day of our awakening
Blessed is my country
Blessed are her patient hills.

Mweh ka allay!
Guanaguanare

Wheel and Come Again, T&T !!

...Love on a Grand Scale.
 
 Freetown Collective Published on Nov 30, 2012
Uploaded by Miquel Galofré

Here is where we are expecting the rubber to begin meeting the road, where just action should trump oratorical flights and give pause to our cynics howling in the wilderness. Time will tell and time alone knows that the twine of a leader's legacy, whether good or bad, is much, much longer than you or I will ever comprehend.

"....In Trinidad and Tobago, we have been accused of being good talkers but poor listeners and the crisis in governance, in our nation, continues to be the result of not listening but shouting from the fences. For many years, there has been a bedevilling sense of disconnect to governance felt by the average citizen of Trinidad and Tobago. Our elected representatives, mindful of their oath to represent all their constituents, would do well to cultivate the art of genuine listening, which always inspires compassion and culminates in a better understanding, even of opposing viewpoints.

".............Until solutions are engendered and nurtured, and as utopic as it may appear, I have great faith in our capacity, as a nation and as individuals, to adopt the moral high ground in governance. I refuse to be a cynic, without firm solutions, howling in the wind, or be a citizen pelting stones from abroad..." SOURCE: Excerpt from Address by His Excellency Anthony Thomas Aquinas Carmona, SC, President of the Republic of Trinidad and Tobago at a Special Sitting of the Tobago House of Assembly on Friday 26th April, 2013 at 10.00 a.m. at the Assembly Legislative Chamber, Jerningham Street, Scarborough, Tobago.

Saying A Prayer For Us All.

..............................................................................................................................  

"Patria est communis omnium parens" - Our native land is the common parent of us all. Keep it beautiful, make it even more so.

Blessed is all of creation
Blessed be my beautiful people
Blessed be the day of our awakening
Blessed is my country
Blessed are her patient hills.

Mweh ka allay!
Guanaguanare
 

Christmas in the Cocoa [Spoken Word]

 Uploaded by TheLydians
CHRISTMAS IN THE COCOA
By Muhammad Muwakil

Can you form a word without moving your mouth?
Can you write a word without moving your hand?

You see, they say, "In the beginning was the Word."
Was it written? Was it spoken?
Doesn't matter.
In the beginning there was movement.

Now, imagine for a moment,
That the very turning of the earth depended on the falling of your feet
That if you did not move, the sun would not rise,
The day would nor come, the flowers would not open,
The earth itself would grow cold from its very core
Time would stand still.
The ice stretching its cold fingers from the north and the south
Strangers to embrace us all, white tombs where we sit.

If movement is life, then fear not the rain
Embrace the sun, open your roofs, and dance the cocoa.

For the mothers working in the casinos at three o' clock in the morning
In their mandatory short, black skirts fending off stale drunk advances
Six months pay to offer your morality up to the altar of ease for one night
Heels cramping your toes, weave pulling at your roots
Hours still to go...

In high heels or open toes... dance the cocoa.

To the young girl who just walk six blocks to buy twenty sleeping pills
Because this life sometimes gets too hard to keep your eyes open -
Drink a glass of water and go in your bed.
Dream it may be better.

In high heels or open toes... dance the cocoa.

To the two teenage girls selling chocolate wafers in Woodford Square
What some make in a hour, you doh see in a week
What some see in a month, you will not see in your lifetime
But some weakness is to see and not to feel.
Let me tell you - If you have compassion in your heart and love somewhere waiting
Then never ever wish to be like those who
Hustle home to empty mansions and fat bank accounts
While the lost warmth of empty hearts goes unaccounted for.

In high heels or open toes in this river of time
Dance fast, dance slow... dance the cocoa.

To the single father, unemployed, who wakes up every morning
To carry his son to school
No reply from the resumes, waiting for a normal life to resume
Times hard but are you harder than times?
And the clock hand regardless bound to move
You ent no newborn but trust me, you ent ready for the tomb.
Forgive them at home if they can't see that you trying
Darkness in nature is the absence of light
But darkness in man is the absence of Truth.
And is not every man that have two eyes that could see
And not every beating heart could feel.
There are pillars of steel on this planet
That cry more under the weight of what they carry than some human beings.

In patent shoes, high heels or open toes,
This river of time
Dance fast, dance slow...
The treasure of your heart the rich may never know...dance the cocoa.

To the celibate teen and the young ones on the pill
To every ward in Port of Spain General
Where this developed nation wards her ills,
To those of less monetary value but equal stature
To the real ones and the actors,
To those who benefit and the real benefactors
To the hands that prepare the hot meals
So the children could have something to eat
To the belly that went hungry so the heart could smile as it watch them same children sleep
To the abused who didn't become the abuser
To the users from one day to twenty years sober
To the single mother who never tell them children nothing bad 'bout their father
To the ones who repented the morning after
To the ones who over anger choose laughter
To the one who said, "No more." and meant it
To the secret admirer who finally wrote that love letter and sent it
To the former bandit working KFC instead of crime
And to the innocent on Death Row serving his innocent time
To the cancer patient who they give six months to live
Remember, no man doh wind the hand of Time... dance your cocoa.

Bitter seeds under your feet will become the food of gods
Time doh always help you get even
But she sure have a way of evening out the odds.

This is for the people who wake up before everybody else wake up
The so called ungodly hour
The ones who mightn't go down in history or go down on their knees
But their footfalls are the turning of this world
It is you who keep us, it is we who are ungrateful
Your movement is life.

Fear not the rain, embrace the sun, open your roofs,
Movement is life, open your roofs and ....dance the cocoa.

Source: The lyrics posted on this blog are often transcribed directly from performances. Although it is my intention to faithfully transcribe I do not get all the words and I have a knack for hearing the wrong thing. Please feel free to correct me or to fill in the words that I miss by dropping me a message via e-mail. I'd be forever grateful. Thanks in advance! ..............................................................................................................................  

 

A Note From The Gull

Thank you, thank you, thank you...Muhammad Muwakil. I've had the privilege of listening to this many times so that I could accurately transcribe it. Needless to say my shirt sleeve is now damp. This is a healing that I badly needed and yet another beautiful Christmas gift from a countryman. I have to pass it on to you. T&T, treasure Muhammad and all the other Trinbagonians who spin gold out of straw. We are blessed.

"Patria est communis omnium parens" - Our native land is the common parent of us all. Keep it beautiful, make it even more so.

Blessed is all of creation
Blessed be my beautiful people
Blessed be the day of our awakening
Blessed is my country
Blessed are her patient hills.

Mweh ka allay!
Guanaguanare