A spliff, a mango and a football

I remember moving to Almond Drive, Morvant as a young boy. This was a time of great excitement for my family and me, for after years of scrimping and saving, my mother finally managed to buy a place that we could call home. It was not Trincity nor was it Diamond Vale, but it was the best that she could do in her circumstances.

Many a wise and trusted head questioned her judgement to move to a place so notorious for crime and violence. Who could blame them? However, I was to embark on one of the most enjoyable and memorable journeys of my young life. For it was here where I would feel a sense of belonging like I had never felt up until that point and consequently, have never felt since leaving. It was here that in the absence of a father, I would look up to men like Booty, Choko and Lato for strength and guidance. It was here that I would meet many of my life-long friends and many others who helped shape and mould me into the person that I am today. It was here that I met Obatiye Bruce.

I first met Oba shortly after he and his family moved to the area from Laventille. His mother Dianne is the typical Trini matriarch; big, bubbly, full of life...and mouth too I might add!! Oba was the only boy in a household of four siblings. He had two older sisters, Mara and Makeda, and a younger sister called Orchid. Oba was unique in that he was the only boy around our age who had a dread. I am not talking about any ''picky-head'' business...I am talking about locks down to his back!! Like many around him at the time, Oba wasn't really interested in school or academics, and to be fair, school and academics weren't really interested in him either. His passions lay elsewhere. Oba was no saint and it was not long before he became involved in petty crime and larceny and started having his first brushes with the law. It was a route that would eventually lead to him being imprisoned twice. Despite his shortcomings however, he was a popular and well-liked personality in the "drive".

It was the summer of 1995 and my friend Colin ''Pa'' Roper had decided to set up an under 15 football team in the area. The team was to be called Brotherhood United; Pa would be the coach and I would be his lieutenant. For the few weeks before the Queen's Park Savannah League started, we would train twice a week in the Morvant Savannah. The team comprised players of varying skill levels and I can just about remember some of the key players in the side. Shurland Reid was our tried and trusted goalkeeper (nobody else wanted to keep!!) At sweeper back was the man-mountain Rocky Bridgeman, while pulling the strings in the midfield were Obatiye ''Oba'' Bruce and Darrell ''Jimmy Swaggart'' McNicoll. Up front was none other that the mercurial Indian, Marcelo ''Madinga'' McNicoll. At well over two hundred pounds, Pa was no Leo Beenhakker though. He would sit in the stands, smoke hemp and bark out his orders. If he had to get up from the pavilion to come down onto the field then you knew that trouble beckoned. Oba, Madinga and Swaggart were the ones who felt his wrath often enough. The team managed to secure a sponsor to donate fifteen T-shirts, while a local benefactor made the pants. Socks and boots were down to the players and their parents.

Living in one of the more deprived areas in the country, money was always going to be a problem. The morning of the first match saw organised chaos. There were about ten different shades of blue socks, while the football boots, salvaged from God knows where, were in varying states of disrepair. Many in the squad couldn't even afford the $3.00 needed to take them into town and back. We ended up 'mopping drops' from vehicles passing over the Lady Young Road on their way into town. Accompanied by a battered Panasonic tape-deck blaring out Buju's ''You cannot carry it on a plane, you cannot take it on a train'' we traipsed across the parched Savannah to take on the Samba Boys from Carenage with our chests puffed out and our heads held high. By the time the final whistle went, Brotherhood United had lost 10-0!! It was back to the drawing board. We practised and then practised some more. For boys who up until that point had only ever played ''small goal,'' this was a steep learning curve. Pa even started coming down onto the playing area during training sessions. By the end of the season we had improved dramatically...we were only losing games one and two nil!! Our outstanding player that season was without a shadow of a doubt, Obatiye Bruce. His determination to succeed overshadowed all. No matter the scoreline, he would never give up, while his enthusiasm and understanding of the game was beyond his tender age.

Oba also had a taste-or should I say thirst- for mangoes. He was the most daring and prolific mango thief in Almond Drive. He would 'tief' mangoes morning, noon and night; rain or sun; storm or calm. He could climb any tree in any condition. As the owners of a starch mango tree, we more often than not felt the effects of his pilfering hand. On the many occasions that he was caught red-handed, he would sheepishly grin and offer a casual ''sorry''. He would leave without fuss, but not before offering us the spoils of his ill-gotten gains as renumeration. However, both we and he knew that before long he would be back again. For the life of me I couldn't understand at the time what he did with all those mangoes. The answer was simple really. I later found out that he was stealing mangoes from us in order to sell them and support himself. Mangoes that we would never have eaten anyway. Mangoes that would have simply ripened, fallen and rotted in our back garden. It is only now when I think about it that I wish he had taken more. Oba was also the local 'chemist' and he was the man to take with you if you were going to buy any 'herbal remedies'. One sniff was all that he would need in order to tell you if your ten or twenty dollar purchase was money well spent. There were few who could wrap a joint faster, and fewer still who could wrap a joint better than Oba. As a rule, Oba would have a smoke when he got up, after each of his three square meals and before he went to bed. Anything less would have been sacrilege.

To many people, the murder of Obatiye Bruce on Tuesday 15^th August 2006 passed without so much as the batting of an eyelid. His life was over in the short time it took a lone gunman to pump eight bullets into him. In all likelihood, it probably ended slightly sooner. His murder followed the all too familiar tale of a young man killed in cold blood in a seemingly motiveless crime. Many will trumpet their 'live by the gun' and 'no smoke without fire' philosophies for all who would care to listen. However, in the tiny community known as ''9-storeys,'' there will be much sorrow and sadness at Oba's passing. A few will recall Oba as being a bad egg...a troublesome child who grew into a troublesome young man. Most, however, will remember him for his fondness and enthusiasm for life, his willingness to help others and above all, his infectious smile.

Rest in Peace dear friend...

********In memory of Obatiye Bruce********

1980-2006

the prophet

Army of One

Last night, East London was treated to a vibrant soirée, Trinbagonian style, ushering in the spirit of Carnival, Notting Hill style. Nicholai La Barrie staged a truly eclectic night at East London’s Masque Bar, flanked by the masterfully creative Sheldon Blackman and by the poetic prowess of writer/performer, Malika Brooker. The mood was set with the candlelit tables à deux, the intimacy of performer and audience, stage and ‘pit’, preparing the eager patrons of varied nationalities for a night of top class entertainment.

Malika Brooker opened the night with her poetry, depictions of love in its many forms, emotions and stages. Her courage alone penetrating her attentive listeners, guiding them through various themes: abortion, lost love, machismo, tough love, and sweetest of all, uncontrollable love. Her style was delivered simply yet effectively, its message clearly manipulated by her responsive gesticulations and enthusiasm for her chosen subject.

Malika also doubled as MC for the night, and welcomed Sheldon Blackman – The Believer, to the stage, a man respected for his many artistic talents, for his message, his role in the Rapso and Jamoo movements, but tonight, he was the supporting act. Another note to his humility and determination to help steer the course of his fellow ‘revolutionary’ brothers. Performing ‘Maracas’, ‘Revolution Reloaded’ and ‘London Calling’, which he admittedly had to ‘improvise’, having not performed the song for some time, however, after knocking around a few notes on his guitar, found the key and delivered to an elated crowd. He utilised the age-old kaiso tradition of call and response, to which the locals had to warm up to, but soon got involved. (www.sheldonblackman.com) His presence alone would have been sufficient to energise and inspire his longstanding friend, Nicholai La Barrie.

Superhero to many small insects. His flowing dreadlocks tantamount to his patience, dedication, talent and determination to showcase his work in this adopted city of London. La Barrie has always been a force in the arts and is one of the true Young Leaders in this world, sustaining respect from Trinidad & Tobago as well as the British and European public. His work in the London arts scene is visibly concentrated on the youth, with his role as Head of Youth Arts at the Oval House Theatre, anchoring him to his work and cause. (www.ovalhouse.com)

His opening set was an instrumental piece that gave a taste of the talent on show. A mélange of sounds, styles, beats and instruments gave the eager listeners a taste of the eclectic musical talent of Nicholai La Barrie. He then launched in to his set, summoning the energy of his audience: friends, friends of friends, his students, patrons of the bar upstairs who were simply drawn to the vibe downstairs. His rendition of ‘Army of One’, a powerful song depicting the strength of individual perseverance to foster positive change, moved the crowd, Nicholai strutting his vocal capabilities by varying the tempo of the song to allow a full comprehension of the lyrical content, too many times one would imagine, the lyrical substance of a song being overshadowed by instrumentals or singing style. His inevitable encore paid dues to the mastery of the song, ‘Army of One’.

The show was a great opener to a carnival weekend full of promise. Rapso and its various offshoot movements have always been a positive source for inspiration and enlightened fulfilment. Another little piece of Trinidad & Tobago that can surely be used as a confident showpiece of talent, art and music, a veritable expression of our people, our struggles, our passion, our Trinidad & Tobago.

Pre-emptive Strikes

As Fidel has handed over the reins of authority to his longstanding comrade, Raúl, the bowels of American Foreign Policy grumbled at the prospect of a healthy feast in the waiting. The first secretary of the Communist Party of Cuba, Fidel Castro, is aged, physically weakened and the world is trembling at the thought of possibly the most arrogant move by its goliath neighbour, to invade and take hostage the essence of its most feared capital: Havana.

And so the world is glued to their television sets and newspapers, watching, reading and waiting, quite like what they are doing now with the devastating war crippling the Middle East, sides being taken owing to the investment and oil revenue potential of the countries involved. I wonder, would it be the same reaction when they invade Cuba? Will Caricom sit aside and watch their sister be plundered, raped, desecrated all in the name of puerile vengeance? Will South America allow the invaders to humiliate their Cuban siblings in to democracy, in to a life of subservience? Will Cuba become another Haiti?

You may ask yourselves, who are we to oppose the might of the USA? Aren’t WE the oil, natural gas and methanol producers, aren’t WE the providers of sugar and cocoa, of holidays internationally revered? WE should place and embargo on them! We should take the helm NOW and let it be known to the rest of the world that the Caribbean stands as a united force, that we will not accept an invasion or allow the threatening of our neighbour, Cuba, the smallest country to stand up and WIN the fight against American capitalism, to truly deserve their sovereign rights, to lead a country the way that suited them best, for if not, the last 55 years would not have played out the way it did.

Cuba has enlightened the Caribbean, moreover, the rest of the world, from Russia to Africa, the United Kingdom and yes, even stubborn USA, with their talented doctors, nurses and sportsmen, their cultural influences, cigars and son, their political prowess. Fidel has proven that democratic capitalism is not the only system that is sustainable, and he has done so for a relentless 55 years. An article recently posted on a leading UK media website talked about the 638 attempts by the CIA on the commandante’s life, so much so, that a documentary on these pathetic follies will be aired on the BBC soon.

As a united front, we will sustain autonomy, some amongst our democracy cradling the American institutions and way of life as if KFC can ever replace Royal Castle, as if Burger King burgers can ever come close to a doubles with “slight pepper”. All that we have is our Caribbean spirit, our unique blend of cultures, races, languages, traditions, an evolutionary melting pot of beauty spread across on the one archipelago the world admires. We are the Caribbean, we have a voice and we must curtail the infringement of our way of life, the beliefs we have come to respect and stand up to the oppressors, defend our neighbours and allies as they defend theirs.

Glasshouses and Stones

The lid on the tinderbox that is the Middle East has once again come off, and while Israel and Hizbullah trade Hellfire for Katyusha, the world watches with bated breath. The school of thought surrounding this conflict is wide and varied. World opinion is stacked against the Zionist regime. It is said that a picture tells a thousand words, and images from places like Beirut, Qana, Tyre, Sidon, Bint Jbeil and a host of other areas inside Lebanon speak volumes. They are full not of dead Hizbullah fighters but of innocent men, women and children caught up in this macabre cycle of violence. Pictures last weekend from Qana were especially telling. Thirty seven children lost their lives when a Israeli ''precision'' missile smashed into a building in which they were seeking refuge. Contrary to popular belief however, innocent lives are being snuffed out on the other side too. Hizbullah's katyusha rockets are aimed at civilian districts and they too exact a heavy toll; if not on the same scale as that in Lebanon. Moreover, we see that the international community is as divided as ever in its response to the conflict. A problem exacerbated ten-fold by the impotence of the United Nations; which while continuously hissing and baring its fangs, never has a venomous bite.
Many in the West blame Hizbullah for starting the conflict. They claim that Hizbullah's cross border raid which resulted in eight Israeli soldiers being killed and two abducted, was an act of aggression tantamount to war. Israel, they claim, had no choice but to react in order to defend itself. This is a view shared by among others the Brothers Bush, George and Tony (nee Blair.) Their assessment is naive at best. Let's for an instant forget the Palestine issue, forget the Hizbullah fighters languishing in Israeli jails and forget the occasional IDF shelling of southern Lebanese villages prior to this conflict. Let's forget the countless UN (there they are again) resolutions ignored by Israel over the last forty years. Let's forget Israel's continued occupation of the Shebaa Farms and let's agree with the Brothers that Hizbullah did start the war. There is no denying that Hizbullah is a terrorist entity. One of its main aims is to bring about the destruction of the Zionist regime by any means necessary. The face of Hizbullah, Sheikh Hassan Nasrallah and its other leaders have without doubt ''strategically'' placed launchers and fighters in densely populated areas; actions specifically aimed to bring about the kind of results that we are now seeing. But how then does the notion of self-defence equate with Israeli actions thus far? We have witnessed the wanton destruction of civilian infrastructure and the total disregard for human life...terrorist or otherwise. What I found strange at the start of the war was the haste with which Western powers evacuated their citizens from Lebanon. For all the rhetoric about Hizbullah being a nasty and pugnacious anti-western terrorist regime hell bent on killing innocent civilians, Western tourists were flocking to Lebanon in their droves. It was only when Israeli bombs started dropping yards away from their hotels, that these people and their respective governments were compelled to act decisively. Who is terrorising whom?
So many people in the West are missing a trick in this so-called war on terror. How can we claim to be fighting against an ''axis of evil'' with one hand, when with the other, we dish out more death and destruction than those whom we fight? We lost the moral high ground a long time ago. How dare we condemn Hizbullah for kidnapping two Israeli soldiers when the US, UK and others have conspired to kidnap over four hundred ''enemy combatants'' and keep them in Guantanamo? Why do our leaders think that to die as a victim of terror on a plane or train in London or New York is far worse than dying as ''collateral damage'' in Kabul or Baghdad? We talk about bringing freedom and democracy to failed states yet soldiers flying our flags rape and defile those they were sent to liberate. There has been a clamour here in the UK for Tony to condemn the Israeli actions in Lebanon. You people are asking the impossible. How can he reasonably do so when but three years ago, he and his brother laid waste to tens of thousands of Iraqi lives in a campaign referred to as ''shock and awe'' by the hawkish Donald Rumsfeld? How can he possibly speak out when several British and American soldiers are in the dock for murdering innocent Iraqis in cold blood? How can he voice dissent when unlike Israel, he took us to war on the basis of an imaginary threat? How can he?
I firmly believe in Moses' law of an eye for an eye. Those of you who know me will attest to the fact that I am no ''peacenik". I do not believe that simply altering the way we conduct foreign policy will make our lives safer...we have gone too far past the post for that. It is not our right to self-defence that is in question but rather how it is done and at what cost. I believe that the terrorists must be fought with resolve but more importantly guile. In this modern era of mass communications, the responsible sovereign state must act and more importantly, be seen to act to a higher moral code that the so-called terrorists. We must start walking the walk if we are to convince others lest all our efforts...and lives...be in vain.

Prophet