Lalin Bel (The Moon is Beautiful)

Lalin Bel

Watch her.

Watch how she hangs

In the eastern sky.

Watch how she sits coldly,

And quietly,

On the frosted window sill.

Look at her and know

That you are no longer looking out

Toward the cold, grumbling river

Of the so called old world,

But that you are now seeing reflections

From wilder waters.

Lalin Bel

It is she who holds the memories of the

Warm, rough seas that beat against

A rugged island.

Do you remember?

Do you remember when she

First came out of the sea?

Remember how she pushed

Her milky head out of the

Pitch lake ocean,

And how she sat on the water’s edge?

The fiery stars were there too,

Brushed across the inky dome

Like glittering sand.

Now,

Look.

Watch how she covers her face

With wispy, frosted clouds.

Watch how she hides herself in shame.

Lalin Bel

They too bathed in the pitch lake sea,

And they too made fires burn bright

On the cool, starry sand.

Do you remember?

Do you remember the pearls in the sky

And the pearls in their eyes?

Do you remember

The sound of the bats

Flapping in the shady trees

And the squeaking of their feet

On the cool powdery shores?

Lalin Bel

Please,

Zanmi mwen,

Tell me that you remember.

Tell me that you remember the cracking

And the popping of the

dry coconut husks.

Remember,

The thick ashy smoke

That flushed the buzzing mosquitos

Out of the houses.

The driftwood that went up in flames

of deep reds, and yellows,

And blues.

Lalin Bel

Remember how they woke the next morning,

Remember how the sun was harsh and

How it burnt their eyes.

Remember how the fires had burnt down to ash and how

The sea had carried away their castles.

Now,

It is only shadows that dance

On the chip-chipped shore.

Now,

The rough sea

Swallows the stars.

And now,

 The wind skims lightly

Over the ocean’s oily face.

----

Their laughter was pure that night,

                                                                                                                                  

 But it was swept away

By the breeze.

Wi, 
Zanmi mwen,

 Lalin bel, bel, bel.

Sleepy Sunday Reflections

Sunday. The red and blue train snakes its way back to the town in the distance, its echoes slowly fading from a booming roar into a far away hum. It was the same train that brought me to this garden. The hill rolls down from the park into a stretch of cozy looking French houses and eventually sweeps under the impressive skyscrapers of La Defense, Paris' financial district. Seemingly planted on the horizon, the spiny Eiffel Tower scratches the bottom of a thick, rippled cloud.

I can hear the joyful sounds of families enjoying a peaceful Sunday afternoon behind me. Footballs are being kicked, picnic baskets are being opening, and children are squealing with laughter. There are so many elderly couples here. Couples that have spent a lifetime together, that have seen each other grow old and ugly, and that still walk hand in hand, happily enjoying the last seasons of their lives. I am leaning on a long stretch of metal railing that borders the park at St. Germain en Laye, a lovely town just a short train ride away from my cottage. I came here to walk, to relax, and to reflect.

The town is bustling with life. It is one of those days when the world seems to open up before you, and everything seems fresh and new again. One of those days when that spiritual feeling of awe begins to stir in your chest.

The world truly is a mysterious place.

The unusually warm weather is a wonderful mood lifter. Looking up, I see that the curved sky is painted with deep blues of many different hues . The colours are more vibrant than usual. Soon the sun will set and the blue sky will melt away and the true magnitude of the cosmos will be revealed. I take a deep breath of cool air, and I am grateful. There is nowhere else I need be. There is nothing more that I need.

I am alive.

-----

They catch you off guard sometimes. Just when you think that you are beginning to dangle dangerously close to having a nervous breakdown. Just when you think that nobody is listening to you, that you have lost all control of the class, and that no one appreciates your presence, one of them goes and does something kind and unexpected.

A new year's gift. I really wasn't expecting this. I am touched by the attention to detail; the Trini flag that was pasted on the envelope, the festive red bow, and by the card written in perfect English. Moments like this give you the strength to continue.

This gift came from one of my eight year old students. By the time that she reaches my present age, I will be forty years old. A dizzying thought. Working in a primary school puts you face to face with the new generation. You get to experience their boundless energy, and their pure, innocent zest for life.

Halfway across the dark Atlantic ocean, however, there are thousands of children who will not be alive to see the dawn of the new decade.

------

Tears in Ayiti.

The Earth shook herself for thirty seconds and now an entire city lies in ruins. More reminders of our fragile we are, of how quickly things can change for the worse. This one really hit close to home. Imagine, a little bit further south and it would have been Port-of-Spain, and not Port-au-Prince, crumbling on every major international news station. Those would have been my family and friends, and perhaps myself, trapped underneath those concrete buildings.

My heart is aching for these people. This is our neighbourhood, and these are our neighbours that are suffering.

How much can one people take? These are the descendants of warriors. Warriors who bravely wrestled their freedom back from their oppressor's hands, and now they have been dealt yet another cruel blow. It is hard to make sense of tragedy. Impossible, perhaps. The 'whys' and the 'what ifs' are endless.

There is nothing we can do but open our hearts; to help however we can, and to give whatever we can, freely, and with hearts full of compassion. This could easily have happened to us.

There is nothing else that I can say.

Parlez-vous français? (Part I)

So you want to learn French, huh? You have visions of yourself sitting next to the gurgling Seine, with a book of 18th century French poetry nestled on your lap, as you whisper a chain of sweet nothingness-es into the ear of your new French lover. Or maybe you see yourself as your company's official interpreter, sitting in a crowded boardroom in Paris, filled with important looking men and women decked out in expensive business wear, and dazzling your French speaking clients with your linguistic prowess.

Whatever your motivation, you are about to embark on a thrilling adventure of intellectual and personal discovery. One that you may not quite be prepared for.

According to a recent survey by the U.S. State Department on foreign language learning, French is the second most studied foreign language in the United States and has been rated as a 'level I' language, meaning that, in theory, it should only take about 600 hours of classwork to achieve minimal proficiency. This can be compared to a 'level III' language like Mandarin Chinese, which is said to need at least 2200 hours of classroom study in order for a learner be considered 'minimally proficient'. French, therefore, should be a breeze, right?

Not so fast, my linguistically adventurous friend. For while this may be true for reading and writing the language, when it comes to parlez-vous-ing with the best of them, I'm afraid that it's just not that simple.  

Heed my warning well: If you decide to study French, you're going to have to make up your mind to go all the way, because when it comes to speaking francais, being mediocre just isn't going to cut it.

With some languages these days, notably with English, the current lingua franca of our world, you can get by with being a casual speaker. No matter how bad your accent, or how terrible your grammar, the odds are that if you make the effort to speak in English, you will be responded to in English. When it comes to French, however, the prevalent attitude in these parts seems to be, speak my language well monsieur, or do not speak it at all.

Now, just to give you an idea of what sort of linguistic beast we are dealing with here, the French language is one whose every evolutionary step is monitored by a lofty, hoity-toity organization known as The Academie Francaise. An organization whose sole goal is to preserve the purity of la langue francaise and whose members refer to themselves as, and I kid you not, The Immortals. Dum, Dum Duuuum, (cue dramatic music). These are the guardians of the sophisticated French language who battle for its purity and who have vowed to fight till the bitter end to keep that pesky English language from diluting their beautiful tongue.

Quite frankly, if your French is crap, or to be more specific, if, despite whatever level of grammar you may possess, your French pronunciation and accent are crap, the Frenchies are going to either (a) ignore you completely or (b) speak to you in English, no matter how broken their English may be. It can be quite the disheartening experience when after years and years of study, nobody will grant you the pleasure of conversing with you in francais.

In a way, and maybe it's just the snob in me speaking, I don't really blame them for this attitude, because there is indeed something truly upsetting about hearing badly spoken French. I mean maybe I've just become immune to badly spoken English as it is the global norm nowadays, but hearing someone communicate in approximative English doesn't really bother me that much. Hearing French spoken with a bad accent, on the other hand, is akin to hearing the sound of a set of sharp nails scratching their way across a blackboard. Some languages just aren't meant to be butchered, I suppose.

But take heart! I am not saying that it is impossible to speak French well. Oh, no, no, I am just saying that it's, well, it's just a lot more difficult than it seems. But whoever said that anything worth aspiring to was easy, eh? Like most things in life, the rewards, and the immense feeling of personal satisfaction that come with progressing in the French language far outweigh the difficulties.

So if you've made up your mind that you want to parlez with the best of them, just make sure that you know what you're getting yourself into. Paris wasn't built in a day you know.

(to be continued)
---


Here is one of my favorite clips from the movie 'Paris je t'aime' which depicts, among other things, some of the things that I've been talking about. You get a feel for just how difficult it can be in the beginning when you take those first brave steps to converse with a local in French. Enjoy :)