“Yuh si dat likkle piece of wrenking meat
Dat di girls ave jazzing(carrying)in their shawts,undaneat their frock and in their pants,
Me love it bad.” Shabba Ranks
This song by Shabba Ranks kept pounding in my head as I wrote this article.
So I was having a conversation with a few colleagues and the conversation lead to someone making point that men like to follow pum-pum (vagina).
* Delroy’s Tale.
It is customary for Delroy to journey from Spanish Town to visit one of his girl friends who lived in Red Hills . He had to take a bus to Half Way Tree and then take another, which is the only bus that was going up the hill. One night around 10:30 p.m as he was cuddling in the bed beside his girlfriend, he was startled by the earsplitting, constant blaring of a horn from the bus signaling the urgency with it was travelling and its close proximity to his location. He jumped from the bed and quickly struggled into his pants and shirt. With shoes in hand, he dashed to the gate just in time to catch the bus. As he hopped on the bus, several pairs of eyes watched him knowingly. Embarrassed, he uncomfortable button his shirt and pants, and put his socks and shoes on. He just couldn’t afford to miss this bus as it was the only one going down the hill. When he got to Half Way Tree, most public transportations had retired for the night. As he stood there, he was very wary of the other people around him because no one could be trusted at that time of the night. When I finally made it to Spanish Town safely and got out of the taxi, he regrettably watched the LONG DARK ROAD ahead of him and as he timidly took the first step, he silently prayed to God that no ill will befall him at 2:00 A.M. He uttered several expletives and vowed for the hundredth time that he will NOT do this again. And to be sure, within three days of this promise, he was taking the familiar journey once more.
The Penis versus the Compass
As Delroy told this story, the other males all laughed and confirmed they have been in similar situations numerous times. My mind also went back to the late nights my brothers and cousins would come home and at day break would share their ‘ordeal’ of visiting the girl over yonder. And so as the conversation progressed, it seemed to us listening that the penis is indeed a man’s compass.
the penis at attention or should I say giving direction?
A compass and a penis are in no way similar in shape, nor appearance but certainly it seems in function. A quick search for a definition of a compass will tell you that it is a navigational instrument that gives direction. Therefore, most travelers (hikers, pilots, sailors) will use this instrument on a voyage.
picture of compass. (do you see any similarities?)
If you examine Delroy’s tale, he knew the journey was dangerous, yet, he repeatedly took this journey. WHY? The answer is simple. He was NOT thinking- with his brain that is. He thought of his girlfriend, and the pleasure that awaited him, his penis stood to attention and he followed in the direction it ‘pointed’. I wonder if this is what Shabba Ranks had in mind when he sang “Love Punany Bad”.
Further examination of Delroy’s tale showed that he only thought with his brain when he was faced with the reality of the danger to get home. WHY? The answer is again quite simple. At this point, the penis or should I say his ‘compass’, has had its satisfaction and is now impotent at giving further directions. Therefore he has no choice but to now use his brain to ensure he got home safely. This of course is unlike a real compass. A normal compass gives direction at all times unless it is malfunctioning. Ladies, with this feature missing from the penis, could we still say it is a man’s compass?
Men, do you think your penis is your compass? Share your thoughts.
*The name has been changed
Dor @ the reins
This article was so hard to write. Hard because I had SO much to say to the point where I was confused. I finally got some of my thoughts together.
BIZZARE. SAVAGERY. BARBARIC. These highly negative adjectives are only a few words I would use to describe the recent murder of 14 year old Shariefa Saddler and 4-yeaar-old Rushaun Burford.
January 31 2013 was a sad day in our island! On the heels of Sharipha’s death came little Rushaun. My body was filled with goose pimples and I shivered because of the anguish emanating from Shariefa’s mom as I listened to her being interviewed on Nation Wide. I am convinced something has been unleashed on this nation; something that has destroyed the hearts of mankind.
When I was a child, I use to hear stories of blackheart man driving around in black cars and taking away children. But even with such myth circulating then, as a child I was safe. It seems the Blackheart man is back and he is REAL! This time he has no specific colour car; nor dress, nor weapon. ‘He’ has no soul; ‘He’ is a blackhole.
Why do we attack our children? There is absolutely no justification for these reprehensible acts. In a previous blog “Inform-a-Nation” I declared that silence is NOT always golden. It is sometimes destructive. The newscast reported that the teen cried for “Rape” in a busy community and no one came yet within minutes after her lifeless body was thrown from the moving vehicle, crowd gathered. Where was everyone at 6:00 a.m who were at this popular bus stop? Why are we afraid to speak? Whatever happen to the idea of being our brother’s keeper? Our children are defenseless and they look to us for protection. As a community we need to rise up against these savages. They will continue to be savage once we remain silent.
Frightening. I am yet to be a bilogical mom but I have all intentions of doing so soon. I have lots of nieces, nephews, cousins and as an educator, hundreds or even thousands have passed through my hands. These recent acts of violence on children frightens me as an aspiring parent. I cannot begin to understand how those parents are feeling.
ENEMIES OF STATE
Something is Rotten in the state of Jamaica. We need antibiotics or even amputation as one person puts it. We need to do something about this surge of violence. Legislation for capital punishment for these barbarians is needed. Vigilante justice even. Slow. Painful. Death. What could possibly possess someone to kill a child and in such brutal way at that? These are whom (or I should say what) the Prime Minister ought to call enemy of the state.
WEAKEN POWER FOUND IN SILENCE
These savages find power in silence. They know people will peek through windows, talk in hushed tones, turn heads to the other side. They know their will be palpable silence! The Jamaica Gleaner published that in 2012, 41 children were killed acroSs the island; in 2011, 54 children were killed. Way too much! Let us adopt this years HIV/AIDS theme of “Mission Zero” and fight to reduce the statistics to Zero.
I am making a desperate plea, PLEASE, let us cry out! Speak out! We must be our brother’s keeper. Do not wait until this ugly monster knocks on your door! Prevent it from entering your street, community. Let us get the numbers down. Let us take back our country Jamaica.
Dor @ reins
Saturday, January 12, 11:00 a.m
I sat staring dazedly at my niece’s casket. A thousand unclear thoughts and unanswered questions flashed through my mind. I was oblivious to the pastor’s voice. Like a zombie I confusedly watched the faces of the congregation constricted with grief. I felt like I was having an awful dream and would not wake up. I turned to my left and saw my sister (mother of my niece) with tears rapidly streaming down her face; To my right, my brother-in-law cuddled the remaining kids in fierce, possessive and overly protective bear embrace and wept openly. I suddenly became aware of my own tears blinding my eyes. I realize, shit! THIS is real. Silently I screamed loudly “this is NOT the natural order of things! Parents DO NOT bury their children, it’s the other way around! She was only three years old”
How did I get here?
It was Saturday January 5, 2013
Sitting by my lonesome in a fast-food joint consuming some nice chicken soup and enjoying a BBM conversation with my sister. (We were discussing my latest crush). I was having a bellyful of laughter it seem d soup couldn’t do it job. Then…the PINGS went silent. I waited. Then the call came. Excitedly I answered as I thought having an oral conversation will ease the pain from my finger tips from all the typing. She then responded to my exhilaration with the dreaded words “Cordelia daughter just died”. For a moment I didn’t process the information. When I finally did on unsteady feet I walked away (leaving my soup). I do not remember the journey to the car. I just drove until I ended up at my aunt’s house. I wept uncontrollably. My other sisters were inconsolable.
Friday January 11, 2013 I took my trip to be with Cordelia.
I will not talk about the cemetery. Too sadddddd!!!!!
Though the house was filled with well wishers, not even a vice grip could separate us as sisters, cousins and our beloved aunt. We needed each other. This put into perspective many things. Prior to the death of Josselle, I’d not had dialogue with some of my sisters in several months; not because we had any feud; we just had poor communication. Josselle’s death however brought us closer and made us realized how much we took each other for granted. We recognize that in time of sorrow, it doesn’t matter how many friends we have, we need each other. We bonded like we never did before and you know what…. I AM HAPPY WE DID!
How to stay in touch?
It does not take excess energy to stay in touch with your siblings and your friends. All you have to do is:
- While on your way to work in the bus, send him/her a text. If you drive, before exiting your car do so.
- If first point doesn’t work, while sitting at your desk, send a text or make a one minute phone call.
- Send him/her and email
- In this technological age, there is blackberry, Samsung galaxy, I-phone… you know the gadgets… send them a BB message or text on whatsapp
- If you have a webcam, decide on a day and specific time of the day for conferencing with each other.
- If you live within the same or close geographical space, have regular lunch, dinner or just Lyme with each other.
These are just some of the basic ways to improve your relationship with your siblings and am sure you can find many other ways. If you are all familiar with the television show “Suzan” then you would see the myriad of people searching for their families. I was most touched by a story of a young lady who was separated from her mother as a babe and she grew up alone and knew not one family member at 41 years old. She wept openly on television as she desperately plead for help to find them. You know the Jamaican saying “wanty wanty cant get it but getty getty nuh want it”?
Let us not fall into a position of looking into the rear view mirror and said “if I could go back”. Let us do what is right. Life is short. Let us live it in love.
Though we are sad little Josselle is no longer with us, we are happy for the new bond her passing has created for us. So I ask, was her death a tragedy, or a blessing?
Dor @ the reins