LAWLISMEDS

--> Country Rhythm Published in  the Sunday Observer's "Bookends" Sac-cloth and Ashed Bucket filled, she raises praise sounds as she scurries away, duty bound. Wearing this burden, sac-cloth cushions her head, as herstory hides (beneath apron): ‘bout how she came to know to raise load, ‘bout tilting carriage so as to never spill the yoke which, she can never put down, but she lifts and eases down Salvation Hill. here women, drifting down the narrow road listen as she lifts her voice. Forgetting load. With no patience to wait, or hand to wave; the call of her praise sounds haunts them, like a dogs howl, pulling women into the stillness of Sunday morning testimonies dragging at stories under skin charred from being born load, bearin...

For years growing up in Clarendon there was no one else to rely on, just her mother. Her father had left her mother with four children to be with the young girl in St James. The young girl had promised to “fuck up” her mother if she ever came close to them. Julie had grown to understand the difference between being reprimanded for the trouble she gave, “I will fuck you up”, and the threat of obeah or acid that could tear away flesh from skin making it crumble like toilet paper does when it was soaked “I going to fuck you up”. A distinction she had to make as her mother shouted through the kitchen window, which quickly made her aware “that skin doesn’t need so much acid to strip, just the promise of it”. The neighbor, the one her mother was constantly mumbling to- Miss Sarah, said that “it had to be obeah that made the man come back twice, and parked his aqua Lada at the front gate in full view for the neighbours”. Julie heard Miss Sarah just an hour after she had helped Ma Jone...