As Told by Mama by BACAT Exhibition 2018

SACCHOY TAYLOR

ILLUSTRATIONS BY SHAQUILLE CROSSE

AS TOLD BY MAMA

About the Author Sacchoy Taylor is an aspiring Screenwriter and Novelist who fell in love with Creative writing at a tender age. Growing up in rural Jamaica, she spent an extensive amount of her time reading and writing prose fiction. In her teenage years, Taylor wrote Poetry as a means of expressing her deepest thoughts on both personal and social issues. As a Literature student, she was exposed to a lot of poets such as Shakespeare, Langston Hughes, etc. Though, she found she loved the romanticism in Thomas Hardy’s poetry and draws most of her inspiration from him. Storytelling has played a major role in Taylor’s life, encouraged by a Great-Grandmother who found pleasure in sharing her childhood stories under the rural moon. She enjoyed learning about the older generation of women who survived hard times with grace. Sacchoy believes that even though we all have our individual experiences that mold her personalities, we draw inspiration and morale from those around us as well. AS TOLD BY MAMA is a reflection of Sacchoy’s observation of the women that influenced her while growing up in rural Jamaica.

Introduction AS TOLD BY MAMA is a collection of poems that delve into an unspoken realm of the Jamaican woman’s reality. The collection was stemmed from series of events in 2017. Throughout the media landscape the topic of child abuse was rampant. Videos of mothers emerged, carrying out harsh punishments on their children. The general theme of the discussions centred around the public’s understanding of child abuse and proposed measures to curb the practice. A general consensus is that these women, mostly single women, should serve jail time. For a society that once believed strongly in the age old saying, “spare not the rod and spoil the child”, this was shocking. With the intervention of agencies such as the Child Development Agency (CDA, the women in the videos were arrested. For many, this is a new approach to parenting being introduced in Jamaica. Parents would now see that excessive beatings can be reported and charges made. However, one cannot neglect the root causes of child abuse. The Jamaican woman endures a different struggle daily, some of which are direct contributors to their mental and psychological wellbeing. AS TOLD BY MAMA will examine some possible stimulators to child abuse. Subthemes explored are: Depression, sexual assault, abandonment issues, relationship problems, generational curses, religion, culture and self-hate. This body of work was not created to discredit the work of the CDA or children rights agency or group. Rather, it is intended to shed light on an aspect of the Jamaican society that has been misrepresented as tough love or merely kept hidden as family secrets.

Acknowledgement AS TOLD BY MAMA is a collective effort by an amazing group of people. I want to personally thank everyone who helped to bring this body of work to life. I extend gratitude to Ms. Marilyn Facey for her patience and guidance throughout this process. To Ms. Annissa White for her guidance and help in assembling the overall look of this collection, thank you. I must not forget to thank Nikole-Alicia McKurdy-Morrisson and Shacquille Crosse for selflessly giving of themselves and bringing my vision to life through art. Hearty thank you to Janice Douglas who played a major role in the creative process. She reviewed and critiqued each poem throughout the book with enthusiasm and without bias. I want to also say special thanks to my Editor, Ms. Ashleigh-Ann Mowatt.

Finally, I must acknowledge the strong black woman that inspired the making of AS TOLD BY MAMA. To my great-grandmother, the strong black woman who has tw triumphed over many adversaries and remains grounded. â&#x20AC;&#x192;

As Told By Mama Sacchoy Taylor Illustrations by: Shaquille Crosse

To my great-grandmother Her strength as wisdom has transcend generations.

Genesis My heart is heavy. My cries, A whimpering sound. This my reality, Wears me down. Every day I question, The heavens, Earth, Moon and stars. Why does my mother, Find comfort within my scars? Why has she abandoned me? Was it something I did? I could try harder to please the woman who gave life, Though miserable, to me.

Tell me Mama, What is my wrong? Why have you made me Feel unworthy Of your favor, Undeserving of your Love? Tell me your truth. Why do you find it hard to love? Why is it so hard to love, A daughter, That just wants to be loved by you?

Nana She ascends the throne, That of many storytellers Before. The light from the, Sweet Home Lamp illuminates her face. She possesses a rare beauty. One seen among the Sans people. Her people. The tribe I am sure She belonged to. Not here on borrowed lands. On the sweet motherland. She looks at her Audience. A sea of bright eyes, Of fidgeting bodies.

She takes her role seriously, She must give them jewels. Gems In the form of folklores of old. She closes her eyes. As the tales of An older time floods her mind. Fables after Fables untold, With lessons for each generation to behold. â&#x20AC;&#x153;The higher the monkey climb, The more him expose.â&#x20AC;?

EVE She looks on with sad eyes. You remind her of Trying times. A time of despair, Trying to stop her childrenâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s cries. A time that she knew would, Haunt her sleep right through eternity. Like the curse she has borne, The weight has gotten too much. She cries, She cries for her sons.

She cries for her sonsâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; despair. But, she feels it more for her generation of daughters. A curse to share.

Womanhood She is trapped. Trapped! It’s a reoccurring dream. She is bound by coils. Not ready for this rite of passage.

Iriabo! Her hips widen, Her chest grows. Her allure heightens. But her heart, Her heart is heavy.

Iriabo! She is trapped. Trapped! She’s in a sleep paralysis. Afraid to make a sound. She can’t move.

Her secret weighs her Down. Her innocence. Her innocence had repleted. Her suitors increased. she has transitioned Iriabo! She is woman.

Her smile shines bright Like the sun. And like the sun, It disappears at nights. Her smile fades. The boogie man enters. The boogie man appears, above her. The boogie man leaves.

As Told By Mama The story of the Jamaican Matriarch Is a tale woven through centuries of Laughter, Pain, Tears, Hardship and Depression. Through it all, She remained resilient. She has fought valiantly To bare the loads of her lover, of her sons, of her own. She is looked at as; their beacon, their source of advice, of comfort. she bore it all.

She spun an intricate narrative. Crafted with a green thumb, sunken in rich, dark, Loam. She has been clothed, In the garments of, A generation before her. She has mended this garment, A thousand pin pricks she bares. She passes on her truth to her young. She bore the scars for her sons, like the thimble she has protected her own.

As Told By Mama But her daughter? Her daughter must bear the storm. She must adorn Her naked flesh With Josephâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s coat.

The woman who appears powerful, And crucify the woman, If she is spent. It was inscribed In the beginning. Young girls listen, Listen to her counsel. As told by Mama.

She has told the story, So has her mother before her. The woman, though delicate, Must be strong. She must have grits. She must be smart. This world will Praise the woman,

Mami-Wata Her tides rise. She moves with A sensuous sway. It catches the Attention of her Prey. He is trapped. Game she plays. She has perfected her moves. Make-up just right, Hair slick, virgin quality, Inches. She smiles. A smile that fits perfectly on her angelic face. She moves with Elegance, Sophistication And grace He is in awe of her. He is now Her slave. He dotes on her, Granting her every wish. He worships her. She is a deity. 14

She possesses goddess-like beauty. He was in a Trance Abandoning his boat At the docks. He follows her Until the sirens no longer ring. He woke up She didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t see it coming. Her realm crumbles At his absence. Her love grew Bitter. She hates him. And she unleashes Her anger on His off-springs.

Silence Her skin yellow, As yellow as the sun. Her beauty illuminates the room. It echoes. Timelessly captivating those within. Her pain, the one she bears, On her boney shoulders. The pain she carries for miles, On her beaten back. The pain she bears alone. The pain she bears, is silent. Her skin is yellow, As yellow as the sun. Sicken yellow, if you get a closer look. Her beauty shines at a distance. It illuminates the room. It shines bright as her smile, A smile that never reaches the contours of her eyes.

She laughs the loudest, it echoes. But like the echo, it is empty, soulless. Her happiness reflects a mirage, That eats away at her conscience. Like flesh eating piranhas. Bit by bit it nibbles, And her screams for help, Is silent.

Mirrors She had it all figured out in her head. For once in her life the mirrors reflected, Her hopes and dreams. She stood and stared at those mirrors unwavering. She was happy. Her mirrors mirrored her life. Happy home, happy wife. Donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t you think itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s strange One word could change her fate? But her mirrors spoke her truth, Life is evil, Loveâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s the root. She stared at her mirrors, They were so dear. Her mirrors reflected her A Pristine reality. 16

Nothing could take away her joy. Not even the boy who kissed her. Kissed her so fierce she saw stars., She stared, stared at those mirrors. Never wavering. She stared at her mirrors, reliving her happy ever-after. She stood in front of her mirrors. They reflected what she sees. She is all alone, She stands all alone, When her happy ever-after died. And the boy The boy who kissed her? The boy who kissed her, He lied.

Pain Her pain, The pain she feels when you see her stains. Her pain, The pain she feels when you hold your head in disdain. Her pain cannot be explained with mere words. No vocabulary can fully translate her agony. Her pain, The pain she feels when you rise above her. Majestic is the black man. But he sears pain in her heart. To boost his ego, and puff up his masculinity, He causes her pain. Her pain, She bares this pain for nine months. While you giggle with your friends, Rub her swollen abdomen. She battles with the pain of self-hate, swollen feet and nose That pain, her pain, This pain. Her Pain. 17

The pain she feels when she has sleepless nights alone. Her pain The pain she bares when her baby girl’s first words are, “Da Da” A father who is never there Never there when this precious gem has a runny nose or a blazing fever. “Da Da” That’s her pain. Do you understand her? Do you understand her pain? Do you understand the pain she feels when her baby is in pain? When her baby is doubled over and is painted in red stains. Her pain? The pain she feels when she realizes that the cycle continues. A cycle of pain, Her grandmother’s pain, her mother’s pain, Her pain, her daughter’s pain. The pain of generations old, of now, of those unforeseen.

Son-Son, Bobby & Chum “Take him home mama. Tere is nothing we can do for him here.” Take him home. Take him home? His statement echoes on a loop. “Take him home mama, there is nothing we can do for him here.” Take him home. Take him home? His statement echoes on a loop. Take home my baby to die, While I do my best, The best I can to ease his pain. My heart cries, My soul bleeds, To witness the agony, he feels. “Take him home Mama, spend as much time as you can.” Spend as much time? How can he look me in the eyes? Spend as much time? I spent nine months, forty-three years, 18

But that’s not enough! How can it be enough time? He is still a baby, Mama’s Baby! “Take him home mama, take him home Mama. Make the necessary arrangements “ Make arrangements. Make arrangements? I have made arrangements. I made arrangements for his birth, I made arrangement for his first day at school, I have made arrangements for his baptism! Make arrangements you say? “Take him home mama- “ Don’t call me Mama, for that I am not. I am Hannah. Come Samuel, you are going back to the lord.

Monarch I see the pain I feel, reflected in

my son’s eyes. He looks at me, He sees me, He sees me as I am. Weak. He hears my whimpers, When I’m locked away in the confines of my permanent prison.

He sees me. His mother, The woman who fought to keep him alive. The woman who held him in a protective cocoon, My beautiful butterfly. He sees me now, As my skin sheds its layer, I’m left with stings from the raw flesh.

A broken replica of the Monarch. He fights back the urge to abhor The one he is scientifically programmed to adore. He sees me. Black veined brown. My son sees my broken wings. He judges me, He judges me for my sins. Transgressions committed with thoughts of only him. He hates me. How can he hate me? He hates what he sees in me. My bruised patterns, ashen skin, limp wings. My son sees me. He hates the mother I am to him.

Mama, Christ and the Church

Mama loves me, Christ and the Church. Her faith rests Within us all. She has faith in Christ. He is the Giver of peace. Forgiver of sins. Savior of the world. She cried. She cried nightly. She cried to A savior never seen. She prayed. Prayed earnestly for him For him to Deliver her from evil. To break the chain, And bind the curse.

She meditated. She meditated on His words. To bear the Fruits of the spirit.

She has suffered. Suffered for years To live up to the teachings of a Church. A church. A church she loves. Mama loves me, But not as much as she loves Christ And the Church. â&#x20AC;&#x192;

Mama’s Love Mama got into trouble With law, Because she loves me.

Mama Loves Me!

Mama got into trouble with the Law. The Law man did not know. No, he did not know How much Mama Loves Me. Mama Loves Me! Everyone will tell you so. I am Mama’s baby. The wash belly, The one that should not have been. Mama Loves Me! It is there for all the world to see. Her love for me Its super colossal, So tall no man can reach.

I see it when, She provides. I see it when, She nurtures. I see it when, She gets upset when, I hadn’t call for a while. Mama Loves Me! I see it when, she cries. Mama Loves Me! I saw it when, she got into trouble With the Law

A Daughter’s Prayer

As I lay my head to sleep, I pray the Lord my Soul to keep. I lay my head to rest this night, Heavenly Father cover your child. A prayer, a prayer, I pray each night. A prayer for all my worries, my pain A prayer for God to show the way. Show me why I am this way. Show me why my heart always aches, Aches for the love my mother forsakes.

Forsaken child, bruised and worn, Forsaken child, loveless and scorn. I pray you teach me The things I lack. Teach me to love A mother, Who can’t love me back.

Revelations My heart is heavy. My cries, a whimpering sound. To know her reality, This woman, so profound. I see her, now. As the light of truth, shines. Before, I was blind. Her journey, I have trekked Like Paul, Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ve been hit. An awakening along Damascus road. The weight of generations, she bore, She carried it atop her crown. She was given no Katta, Her load was heavy, the journey long. Her strength was her weakness. It became too much to hold on.

Mamaâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s love diminished, She had no more to give. To give to herself, To give a man. No more was left to give. To me, her daughter The one she hoped, One day, would not fall victim. Victim to the burden, She bears as a Black woman. The one I live, verbatim.