Volume 34 is themed “Dignity, Power, and Place
in the Caribbean Space.” Not surprisingly, as unique as each submission is, the
theme, rising out of our thoughts about old and new diasporic tales, unites
them. The discoveries binding the edition tell of the ebb and flow of life, of
renewal and loss, and of dignity and despair in a swell of personal, cultural,
historical, economic, and geographic declarations reverberating in our ongoing
Caribbean dialectic.
The Returned (Los Cocolos*)
This almost mythical
tale,
that began one hundred
and fifty years ago,
is leaving a twenty-first
century trail.
It is about what we
learned from our fathers,
and what they were told
about their mothers and grandmothers,
fathers and grandfathers,
uncles and great-uncles
going back to times we do
not know,
times alive in the
stories we heard.
Our British West Indian
ancestors,
not happy with their lot,
set out to change their
fortunes
in the land of merengue,
bachata and salsa.
Not wanting to stray too
far from home,
they passed up on Cuba,
Panama, Belize, Venezuela,
and swarmed like ants to
the sugar industry
in “Santo Domingo*” where
they would in time
be labelled, “Los
Cocolos*.”
In time, skewed social
and political laws,
sharpening like machetes,
cut the darker-skinned
down to size.
They saw their fields of
dreams
slashed stalks in
sugar-cane fields.
And navel strings*
calling,
looking back from where
they had come,
some began to uproot
themselves
from a centuries-old
abode,
to seek their ancestral
home.
The returned in a new,
yet old, land
must learn again the
language and ways of their forefathers.
A tight embrace does not
greet them all
for they have become
strangers to their kin.
Some not sharing their
DNA
are suspicious, see them
as invaders,
and have declared them to
be
threatening,
foreign-tongued job-snatchers.
© Althea Romeo-Mark 2019
*My
grandmother, Sarah Finch and her brother, Robert Finch moved from Antigua to
the Dominican Republic in the early 1900s. I have heard from some extended
family members that many immigrated there after the 1850s. My father was born
in San Pedro de Maroris in 1914. My uncle‘s family remained there. Some distant
family members (4-5th cousins) moved back to Antigua in the 1980s.
Here is a photo of my uncle who immigrated to the Dominican Republic from Antigua and Barbuda in the early 1900s.
*Cocolo is a term used in the Spanish-speaking
Caribbean to refer to non-Hispanic Anglophone-Caribbeans who immigrated to The Dominican Republic.
Caribbean migrant fruit pickers have been supporting the American agricultural economy for decades.
Pockets Empty, Head Full of Stories
Old
Man Ronald used to go away
on
seasonal journeys
to
fulfill his dream
of
streets paved with gold.
He
dreamed of pockets filled with greenbacks
and
saving money for a Cadillac.
The
streets not so golden,
he
brought back stories
about
wearing two pairs of trousers
two
sweaters to warm his bones
while
harvesting cranberries
and
cherries in Wisconsin
and
stripping down to
his
brown, muscled frame
to
pick oranges in Florida’s fields
that
spread way beyond his eyes’ reach.
But
Old Man Ronald is remembered
for
people lining up on his front stoop.
His
view-master was the village theater,
where
people paid to watch pictures of places
he
claimed had been to—the Empire State Building,
the
White House, the Grand Canyon….
The
picking season became history,
became
part of our memory,
the
Cadillac remained his dream,
and
the view-master a past sensation.
Later,
like his neighbors,
Old
Man Ronald paid a dollar
to
watch black and white movies on TV
in
someone else’s house,
paid
a dollar to live
in
other people’s dreams.
.
Photoshoot
We stand on a stairway,
our places dictated by
height.
We are not posing for
Elle or Ebony.
My visit from afar
to a cousin’s house,
has gathered us together—
the offspring of a
no-longer feared granny.
Gran is always a topic
when we meet.
In our words, our
writing,
we admire her brazenness,
crave her boldness.
We want her fighting
spirit,
not the fighter.
We want to box with her
words.
So we pose, the carriers
of her genes,
walk down memory lane
talk about the island
life shared with her.
We take her stories with
us,
still alive, still
kicking.
© Althea Romeo-Mark, 2019
Guayabera
There was a time when
Caribbean men wore one.
Fidel Castro, Michael
Manley were the inspiration.
The guayabera said up yours to colonialism.
Our men were clothed in
nationalism,
were revolutionaries in
fashion.
There was a guayabera in
every closet.
Without one you were not in wit tings or the it man.
The shirts, sold in every
clothes shop,
were a “must have” if
visiting from abroad.
Returning natives had to
stop by and pick one up
to make a statement, too.
Guayabera said, “I is de
man.”
Caribbean and Latin in
head,
revolutionary at heart.
© Althea Romeo-Mark 2018
DIASPORIC
RHYTHMS: INTERROGATING THE PAST IMAGINING A FUTURE
The Caribbean Writer (TCW) renews its call for
submissions for Volume 35 under the 2020 theme: Diasporic Rhythms:
Interrogating the Past, Imagining a Future.” And as The Caribbean
Writer (TCW), a refereed, international journal published by the
University of the Virgin Islands, continues to mourn the passing of its
esteemed founding editorial board member, Barbadian Poet and Author Kamau
Brathwaite, TCW Editor Alscess Lewis-Brown, remarked that the theme — even
though it was announced before we experienced this great loss — captures the
essence of the Kamau Brathwaite literary aesthetic and, therefore, is fitting
that volume 35 is dedicated to this giant advocate for Caribbean literary expressions.
“Brathwaite’s imaginative and innovative use of language and the
scope of his work capture the essence and spirit of Caribbean expressivity. His
support and insight helped to shape and guide The Caribbean Writer’s path over
the past thirty plus years. For this, we are grateful.”
Contributors are invited to submit works of fiction, nonfiction,
poetry, essays or one act plays which explore the ideas resonating within the
region and its diaspora. The Caribbean Writer is an
international literary refereed journal with a Caribbean focus. So, the
Caribbean should be central to the work, or the work should reflect a Caribbean
heritage, experience or perspective.
SUBMISSION
GUIDELINES
Individuals are encouraged to submit poems (5 maximum), short stories
and personal essays on general topics and also on the theme. The maximum length
(for short stories and personal essays) is 3500 words or 10 pages. Only
previously unpublished work will be considered. The term “previously published”
covers print and electronic publication —including on social media platforms,
and self-published items. In addition to contact information (mailing
address, phone number), provide brief biographical information (such as appears
under the “Contributors” section of the journal). Submit Word files only
(no PDFs) at www.thecaribbeanwriter.org or email to thecaribbeanwriter@uvi.edu.
Note that TCW no longer accepts hardcopy/mailed-in poems. stories, essays,
plays, etc.
This celebrated journal also seeks black and white art (line drawings,
sketches, block prints, etc.) for use inside the publication and colorful,
eye-catching, Caribbean artwork for the cover. Artists who want their artwork
to be considered should submit electronic files in vertical format as TIF or
JPEG files with a resolution of 300 dpi or greater.
SUBMISSION
WINDOW
Submissions are accepted from January 1 to December 31 each year
and are considered for the journal that will be published the following year.
(In other words, volume 35 will be published in 2021 and entries submitted
between January 1 and December 31 of 2020 will be considered for volume 35. The
deadline for submissions each year is December 31. Submit Word files at
www.thecaribbeanwriter.org or email to thecaribbeanwriter@uvi.edu.
Submit Word files using the
form below after registering/logging in or email to thecaribbeanwriter@uvi.edu. For more information, get in
touch with The Caribbean Writer at (340) 692-4152/4122 or at
TCW, University of the Virgin Islands, RR1, Box 10,000, Kingshill St. Croix, VI
00850-9781. Submission deadline is December 31, 2020.
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