things to do: in the philippines

Manila and surrounding area:

- sweat
- drown
- take refuge from the rain
- make new friends
- be hungry
- eat meat flavoured fat
- stay hungry
- take a: tricycle, jeepney, taxi and habal habal
- risk your life on a: tricycle, jeepney, taxi and habal habal
- try to go to Mall of Asia-- fail
- leave fake poop around not-Mall of Asia. fool cleaning staff
- be helped by the locals
- be scammed by the locals
- see Tal volcano through the mist and despite the rain
- destroy shoes, feet and therefore nose
- hang with tribesman of the Southern islands
- walk down, up, down and up the rice terraces of Batad
- almost die
- see waterfall. walk back up, down, up - deliver own last rites
- triumph over adversity
- crash a party
- dance with dignitaries
- eat a ducks face
- gag

night swim

Characters: two unassuming tourists played by Toac (purple), Charles (orange); two over eager local boys, Eljay (blue) and Berne (green); and the harbinger of death
Setting: a not so secluded beach. 12 am. Bantayan, Philippines.

(click to enlarge)

sparrows

june 09 - today outside of some cathedral i foolishly decided to eat a mango. I was surrounded by kids in an instant.

"peso ma'am. peso."

but one child noticed the food i had and the chant quickly changed.

"mango ma'am. mango"

i had five mangoes. i had already started eating one, the rest went to the littlest beggars but even after i ran out of mangoes one girl followed me for a block and a half.

sorry sweetheart i have no more mangoes. my bag is empty.

"mango, ma'am. mango."

i had some sweet pastries but she only wanted a mango.

"mango, ma'am. mango."

i showed her the empty bag.

"mango, ma'am. mango."

her older friend/sister jumped in and offered to trade me a bottle of water for a mango.

i only have the one i'm eating. you want the one i'm eating?
"yes ma'am."

what?!

i still can't believe it.
the hunger.
the desperation.
to ask someone for the half eaten mango hanging out of their mouth. to barter with your only means of income...my heart aches still.

i gave her the mango.

i lost 50 pesos. i lost my breakfast/lunch. but how could i not?
these children...i could've been in their position.
we all could have been in their position.

all i can say is don't take your privileged life for granted and thank God for His blessings daily.
Thank you God for this my life.

2nd impression: poverty.

poverty.

extreme, abject poverty.

continuous, thriving, all consuming poverty.

what is poverty? in manila you see it everywhere.
so many people are homeless, sleeping in the parks, on the sidewalks, in the gutters.
everywhere.

nationwide this poverty is a result of corruption, local dishonesty and foreign greed.
it is a product- a continuous cycle- of poverty, illness, desperation and hunger.

to look at it will break your heart.
so you don't.
don't look out the window.
don't make eye contact.
don't look at the streets.
don't look at the buildings.
don't look at yourself because you will disgust yourself.
sometimes hearts need breaking.

but still you harden it as much as you can while trying to retain your humanity.
you harden it to maintain your sanity.
you give a little here and there. to give to everyone will put you in a tough position financially. they're everywhere, it breaks your heart.
again.

you smile at the kids, the dirty little street urchins, praying that they don't ask you for money cause to them you are rich but today you too are hungry. you can't afford to feed yourself so your belly rumbles with theirs.

Day 1: The adventure begins.

in all honesty i should have spent far more time planning this trip and far less time packing and repacking my bags.

despite our incredible lack of preparation for this trip we were not completely unprepared. we had thought ahead enough to book a hostel however, the directions we had were proving to be difficult to follow.

take a jeepney to Sucat then a tricycle to green mango pension house.. a tricycle?

yes.

once you cross the candy-cane bridge transfer to unicycle then proceed on flying unicorn.

as exciting as this sounded we didn't know A) where to get a jeepney and B) what a jeepney or trike look like.

mission 1: find pension house without being robbed or conned.

a few wrong turns and a few swindles later we finally arrived at our hostel, the beautiful oasis that is the Green Mango.
the living quarters are cramped, not even a foot between the bunks and the bathroom facilities leave something to be desired, but this place is not completely without charm. tropical plants abound and the under-aged staff is completely awestruck by our outstanding beauty and charm1 , hopefully this will result in free things and more free things.

mission 2: find food

luck finally seems to be on our side, our room mates turn out to be two very nice brits with similar travel plans and hunger pains.
shall we adventure together? yes, let's.

after miles of walking in search of food we come to the realization that continuing this way we would either die of starvation or heat exhaustion.
after a brief jaunt on a trike and having succumbed to diesl fumes and hunger pangs we decide to try our luck with some roadside "meat" on a stick.

and by roadside i mean, a shantyesque resto on the side of the road, food in an unrefridgerated glass case, meat of intdeterminal species kept flyless by a man with a feather duster.

bbq pig ear on a stick. delicious.

mission 3: start the sightseeing.

SM mall of asia (the 3rd largest mall in the world) is our goal but sadly we are having terrible difficulty communicating with the British boys. The problem lies in the fact that the british don't speak english. perhaps in my spare time i can teach them...

sadly we end up at another SM, not the one we were looking for but a supermall nonetheless.

sadly we did not realize our err until we had spent 2 hours looking for the main attractins.

not so sadly some colourful wigs and fake poo made for a perfectly entertaining evening.







---

1. at this point we had been going non stop for 28 hours, we were the poster girls for "outstanding beauty".

Day 1: Landing.

Hey Toac, do you realize where you are? the Philippines? yes.

first impressions: dang it's hot.
first thought: what am i doing here?
2nd and 3rd thoughts: seriously, what the hell am i doing here? what have i gotten myself into?

Within the first few minutes of landing i'm about ready to go back to korea.

we have no real plan, no real itinerary. i have a pocketful of pesos and a bag full of money.

i feel like a drug runner not a well seasoned traveller.

it's 'cause i'm not.

how on earth are we going to survive a month and a half of backpacking?

heaven only knows.

fair trade

one of the many useful things to know as a native English speaker living abroad is that your naturally acquired talent is a very valuable commodity.

in a capitalistic world the ability to speak english is one of the few remaining things left to barter with on the international stage (sex is the eternal exception).
many wayguks, finding themselves drowning in a sea of hangul, all too often sell themselves short trading their english skills for korean lessons. albeit a useful and inarguably fair trade, a little creativity can make a world of difference that will raise you up from the ranks of a language exchange partner to a major playah. case in point, i am currently pimping my mother tongue for piano lessons from a professional pianist.

however, if your bartering skills are up to the challenge you may be a grammar lesson away from a multitude of other "benefits".

Setting: anywhere in korea -perhaps a homeplus
characters: unidentified english teacher and some korean guy

UET: excuse me sir, i couldn't help but notice your daughter...

SKG: *nods head*

UET: she has a lovely smile, good strong teeth and what appear to be exceptionally well-
proportioned birthing hips...

SKG: *frowns quizzically*

UET: i don't mean to be presumptuous but i am willing to trade you 4 vocab sheets and 2.3 english lessons for your daughter's hand and a lifetime supply of kimbap. deal?

SKG: OK!

UET: now, about your wife...



- happy trading!

life's a beach

how to make the most of your time when you're living for the weekend.

Depending on what time of year you arrive in Korea there are a plethora of things you can do in a weekend/long weekend to distract yourself from the fact that you've sold your soul to work in a country with a depreciating economy.

M.T.: Short for membership training, in a nutshell Koreans love their booze and bonding. A hold over from university/frosh days M.T. is a cabin retreat that involves B.B. guns, excessive eating, frivolity and the ubiquitous excessive drinking. I highly suggest making friends with as many Koreans as possible upon landing as this will increase your chances of getting invited to an M.T. exponentially. Just make sure that you are well aware of your soj limit beforehand and avoid playing "sam yuk gu" at all costs. If you choose not to heed my advice...bring a bucket.


Mudfest: An annual event held on the 2nd and 3rd weekends of July mudfest is, as it's name would suggest a festival dedicated to mud and less obviously, (if you've never been to a korean festival*) drunken debauchery. Internationally renown for their miraculous, healing mud pools mudfest transforms the sleepy seaside town of Boryeong into a mecca for wayguks and waygukphiles. In all of my global adventuring i have yet to find any single event that has drawn such an immense group of foreigners. Whether or not that is good thing has yet to be determined. Once the fireworks have died down and your sunburn has been dealt with it's time to call it a night. From motels to camping out on the beach many sleeping options are available. If you choose the organic route July is monsoon season so be prepared and opt for a sturdy tent/boat house or you might find yourself rather water logged.
That being said Mudfest is the highlight of many an expat's time in Korea.

the DMZ: If you're a fan of blatant propaganda, tight schedules and Big Brother then this tour is for you. Welcome to "The last peaceful place on Earth". There are about a hundred different tour groups that will take you to this sanctuary** any day of the week. Some activities include a trip to the unification tower where you can see the NK propaganda village and a tour of the Tunnel of Aggression where you can stroll through a tunnel dug by the North in their last invasion attempt.
Note, it may be demilitarized but don't cross any lines that you aren't supposed to Samsung's got a lazer that'll zap your ass from space. Seriously. They don't just make phones. But don't let that stress you out your tour group will probably make a pit stop at the "fair" and give you a wicked lunch. Hoorah!


Sokcho/Seorak -san: Whether you're feeling the beach or wanting some great hiking this is the place for you. Located in the far northeast along the coast of what the rest of the world calls the Japanese Sea you'll find Sokcho in the province of Gangwon.
Sokcho: Where a perfect blue ocean meets white sandy beaches you can spend your days in the sun and your nights downing dried squid and kelp (their other claims to fame) and trespassing in abandoned derelict haunted buildings guarded by ghost dogs.

If for some reason you get tired of lying on the beach and digging sand out of your various orifices pack some snacks and get yourself to Seorak san.

Seorak-san: A short bus ride away from the beach Seorak-san is renown for it's spectacular views, waterfalls, giant Buddha and absolute disregard for safety. Think of how jealous your friends will be when you retell your near death experience teetering on the edge of the world as you float in a sea of clouds at the peak of Gwongeum-seong some 900 m in the air. However, considering the fact that Koreans do not believe in railings nor in patience it is highly likely that you may find yourself free falling off of said mountain after receiving a swift jab to the ribs/ roundhouse kick to the side of the head from an impatient ajumma.
If you are fortunate enough to survive your assent to the heavens take your time and check out the water falls and temples located on the grounds of this spectacular national park and be thankful to have your feet on terra firma.

After a hard days adventuring and near death experiences you may just be lucky enough to be serenaded by a pair of drunken dueling clarinetists. We can only hope.


North Korea: I am completely serious...for once. Too much to say. Too little time. Stay tuned.


PIFF: The Pusan international film festival. International film festival- nuff said. No? Hmm...

Pusan- quaint/hip seaside port city on the eastern coast.
International - this festival reps films from 60 countries including under appreciated sources of cinematic genius such as Mongolia and Kazakhstan.
Film- yes.
Festival- *see mudfest

Surprisingly for a film festival attending PIFF is remarkably affordable as most tickets will only run you 5000 won ($5). Most of your $ will be spent on transportation and that depends on whether you take the lightening fast KTX or age a thousand years on the bus. It's up to you but i recommend getting there early. Get there too late and finding accommodation becomes an odyssey of Homeric proportions if not an episode of amazing race as you literally have to run between hotels/motels before someone else beats you to the punch when they will shut off their lights and shut you out.

If you're lucky (and i'm not being sarcastic this time) the PIFF may coincide with the International Naval Competition and you'll find yourself drowning in a veritable sea of charming seamen. Ladies.

All of the aforementioned potential adventures have been tried and tested by yours truly. Suffice it to say there are many other things one can do and that i have done that have not made it on this list all of which can make your time in Korea memorable and keep you from blogging. Most people do not do all of what i have mentioned nor even half of what i've done in my 6 months spent in korea but when your week and the majority of your energy is consumed by children forced into unceasing education take what free time you have and spend it wisely.
If you wanted to stay home to play starcraft you didn't have to fly across the world to do it.

Stay posted for a list everyday distractions for everyday peoples. Coming to a computer screen near you!

----
**Oh, and if it was unclear when i said sanctuary i meant a 4 km (wide) buffer zone dividing the North from the South that protects Korea from itself. Did i forget to mention that it is the most heavily armed border in the world? My bad.

under threat of deportation*

ko pi** talk

Doesn’t matter what they call you-

whether Migukin** or your name

Cause to them you’re still a waygukin**

To them we’re all the same.

To be a wayguk in Korea

is a double- edged sword

You’ll never want for chingus**

If your time they can afford

“Please friend,” they’ll say

“besides the chance to make a couple won,

why do you fly so far from home?

Why exactly do you come?”

These questions that they ask me,

I often ask myself the same.

They want to be enlightened

and so I tell them why I came

To waste my education

As i share this verbal pox.

To feed my own pretensions

spreading Westocentric thought

We sell this gift we call a skill.

Like teaching how to walk-

Imagine being paid

for simply knowing how to talk.

“if this is how you really feel

can you please tell me why-

why are you in my country

with a conscience so denied?”

Some come for love of money,

Some come for the cheap booze

Some come for the shopping-

though they can’t buy any shoes.

We come for many reasons-

no two stories are the same.

Some come for an adventure,

Others fleeing from the pain.

“Friend you tell me tales of others

but it’s yours I want to hear,”

I came so I could see the world,

I stayed for the cheap beer.

---

*the title has absolutely nothing to do with content of the poem. i was forced under threat of deportation asked to write a few poems for a wayguk event held by my recruiting agency. like most of my poetry it isn't so much a reflection of my personal experience but a compilation of different wayguk perspectives thrown into one convenient self indulgent "poem".

--

**And now for a brief lesson in basic Korean

kopi = coffee (not to be confused with ko pi which means nose bleed)

Migukin= American

waygukin= foreigner

chingu= friend

Hello Mcfly

One thing I forgot to mention in Korea sparkling was that upon landing in Korea I inexplicably found myself 60 years in the past.

Apparently flying to Korea not only puts you 13 hours ahead of Eastern Standard Time, it also sends you back in time. Try getting over that jet lag.

I shouldn’t make sweeping generalizations but for the most part the1950’s are alive and kicking in Korea.

Looking around my office 7 out of 11 people look like they stepped out of Leave it to Beaver, separate twin beds and all. Colour palette, textiles and overall style these ladies are living anachronisms.

What intrigues me is not so much that they have so wholeheartedly embraced this style, (minus the beehives) but it makes me wonder, what era isn’t fair game?

We’ve relived the 70’s, the 60’s, and today’s tights, short shorts and oversized shirts in their horrible Technicolour rainbow harken back to the 80’s.

What’s next? Togas? Loin cloths?

“Could I interest you in this very stylish grape leaf? One size fits all. No? Perhaps in a leopard print?”

I just hope to God no one revitalizes the 90’s.

In cases such as this it’s best to just let sleeping dogs lie.

Vinyl evening dresses and haute couture baby soothers will never be a good idea.

K is for Kalashnikov

There is someone in Ansan you must meet. His name is Vlad* and he works for the KGB.

Stats: 20ish years old,

Ukie/Russian expat,

can’t speak a lick of English and even less Korean

shoots BB pellets into his mouth.

Based on the fact that he can’t speak English it is highly unlikely that even the sketchiest hagwon would hire him as an ESL teacher. If you’re white in Korea and not teaching English there’s little else you could be doing so what exactly had brought our little Vladinski to Korea?

Being the astute investigators that we are we had our suspicions. He was either,

a) a prostitute (generally Russians in Korea are either mail order brides or prostitutes) or;

b) a gun runner.

He was certainly pretty enough to be a gigolo but his affinity towards shooting himself in the mouth had us leaning towards the latter.

Now if you were to ask Vlad what he’s doing in Ansan you might get one of these answers:

He is making a film about life. A documentary? Uh…yes.

He is going to school here. Really? What are you studying? Uh…yes.

He works at a factory making satellites. Spy** satellites? Uh…hahah…

He is a paid killer. You mean an assassin? EXACTLY. (insert maniacal laughter)

On most days Vlad will gladly admit he’s an assassin and he’s always happy to discuss (read mime) the superiority of M16s over kalashnikovs however, if you straight up say that he’s with the KGB he will deny it – thusly:

“I no kageb. Mwha ha ha.”

With such a convincing objection from such a charming, handsome young man most people would be inclined to believe him.

“Sure Vlad whatever you say. You’re here to build satellites.”

“Exactly.”

However, whether you believe him or not, never try to take his picture. If you do you may have the following conversation,

“No! no me picture! You- me picture I go Russia, Russia kill.”

“Come on Vlad what’s one picture?”

“You –me picture, I kill you.”

At this point I suggest putting your camera away.

* his name has been changed for his protection***

** note that for someone who knows all of 10 English words the fact that he knows “spy” is a little suspicious.

***just in case he really is a KGB operative

hello motto

Koreans of all ages will use the presence of a foreigner to practice their English in what is affectionately referred to as Konglish.

cab driver: *gesturing to face* miss korea - apple.

translation: you look like miss korea...something incomprehensible to do with an apple.

meat caller*: hallo wayguk. very delicious. something something. very delicious. something something. sale..something...soft. mmmmm, mashisoyo. two?

translation: hello foreigner, let me show you this horribly overpriced meat. it is very delicious. since you can't read the price I'll tell you it's on sale and charge you what will effectively be half of your paycheque. but don't worry you can dry your tears in the kleenxy softness of what will be the only meat you will eat for the year. but it sure is delicious, mmmm. two pieces then?

couple of random korean kindergarteners: hello!
toac: hello! annyong!
kids: hello motto!

translation: hello motto!

who says you don't learn anything from TV?



* actual job title unknown but they hang out in the meat section of grocery stores cajoling people to buy over priced meat over the loudspeaker

who needs Valium?

Monday, June 2

Korea, aside from a scattering of foreign teachers, is a largely homogenous country. Although people are becoming more accustomed to the presence of foreigners any new foreigner in town will draw their fair share of attention.

My city has a little over 40 foreign teachers 3 ½ of which (not including myself) are not white. I was shipped in special order to add some flavour to my school which is full, for most part, of middle class, middle American, mid- twenty somethings who fall towards the middle of the pink-off- pink spectrum.

Considering the kids only exposure to coloured folk is through the NBA and the occasional Jackie Chan- Chris Tucker movie there were, understandably, a few concerns as to how the kids would react to my presence at the school.

The National Guard was at the ready. Our riot gear was buffed to a shine. A round of Soju to steady the nerves. We were ready for every contingency, it was time to introduce the kids to “Toac teacher”.

Bring it on!

It ended up being a strange combination of counter intuitive reactions. On the one hand I have a stimulating effect on timid kids, while serving as an immobilizing sedative on hyperactive kids.

Let's examine the evidence.

experiments in social psychology

Case study #1: Lucy

upon exposure to the confederate participant* 1 became so stimulated that she began to scream, resulting in the arousal of all canine life within a 50 km radius. Note that this screech, though induced by a pleasant surprise, could rival that of Newfoundland's.

Case study #2: Valerie

This particular participant is known for boisterous and uncontrollable outbursts, however for the entire duration of the experiment subject** 2 sat in her seat (which coincidentally was directly beside the confederate's) in a semi catatonic state. Continued exposure to the confederate was met with complete paralysis of all motor functions and the loss of the ability to speak.

Results
Despite all mesaures being taken to induce the desired reaction none of the subjects wet their pants -although they sure as hell were close to it

Discussion

Further research needs to be done in the field of child psychological trauma and Asian homogeneity. if the pharmaceutical industry could bottle the terrorizing effects of having your monocultural understanding of the world obliterated in a matter of moments they would make a fortune.

shoot!

* note the term "participant" is used very loosely as said participants were not volunteers and had no choice in the matter. Mind not reporting us?

** for the sake of scientific accuracy the more accurate term "subject" will be used, which is apt considering we subjected them to serious psychological trauma

a midget walks into a bar...

and picks a fight with a dark skinned foreigner*.

Setting: Ansan-si
Characters: toac and pocket sized ninja midget

Day 1 1/2

I was walking around the neighbourhood trying to get my bearings - find a grocery store, memorable landmarks, etc.- when i happen upon a korean dwarf.
Normally i don't find dwarfs particularly stare worthy**, but these are not normal circumstances. Normally i am not stare worthy either.

She notices me standing on the corner looking obscenely foreign.
She looks.
I look.
She looks again.
I arch a brow.
She stares unabashedly.
I lunge across the street and stuff her into a garbage bin.
The riot police are called.
I start an international incident that calls for parliamentary intervention.


Snapping out of my daydream i find she's still staring , and to my surprise so am I. This calls for decisive action.
I quickly scan the surrounding area for available garbage bins.
She looks for a means of escape.
I smile a wickedly foreign smile...
and walk away.

International incident averted.

There's never a garbage bin around when you need one.


* I'll admit the synopsis was a bit stretched, but not by much.

today's special

what is a short brown girl doing in korea?
teaching english of course.
what is a strange Kiwi dressed as an obscene Rasta doing in korea?
scaring the heck out of the locals and heading to a flat crawl of course.

As it turns out, the numerous mistakes and misunderstandings involved in planning this odyssey have worked entirely in my favour.

Having landed a day earlier than initially expected what at first seemed like a disaster turned out to be a blessing in disguise. I had made it just in time to partake in the monthly gathering of foreign teachers - Ansan edition.

now back to the rastafied Kiwi.

As it turns out, cross-cultural-cross-dressing is very popular in areas where apartments are referred to as flats. You can tell by the use of term flats that these people in question are not entirely all together. Add alcohol and impunity from the law to this ragtag bunch and you have a recipe for disaster.

Recipe for disaster:
prep time 6 hours, serves 30-40

5 different apartments buildings
5 rooms repping 5 different cultural themes
30-40 esl teachers
use whatever you have on hand. if the pH balance is off add a squirt of lemon and a dash of tequila.
344 angry tenants
6 gallons of soju
2 pounds of fruit floating in a bucket of something corrosive.
4 pellet guns
1 russian bride (1/2 true)
1 ukranian gun runner ( i'm sure this is true)
1 kiwi-rasta with a giant...

mix well
let marinate (the longer the better)
preheat oven to 350 F
continue basting at regular intervals
serve immediately once half baked.

Korea Sparkling

They heard that he was coming and prepared themselves accordingly...



I would never deign to compare myself with THE bridegroom but someone must have known i was coming.

Exhausted from a long and arduous journey my main concern was to make it out of the baggage claim with both my luggage and sanity intact but all of my concerns and preoccupations were quickly swept away. Immediately upon stepping onto Korean soil I was taken aback with the hospitality that IS Korea.

Greeted with the kind of fanfare normally reserved for dignitaries and buxom young pop stars, I was welcomed at the airport by a brigade of ajummas waving a placard bejeweled with the finest gems Asia has to offer.
With a garland of hand strung flowers atop my head i was escorted outside to the caravan waiting to carry me "home". Surrounded by the sent of orchids flown in from afar and elephants shipped in from afarther, the air was heavy with expectations.
Travelling down the highway on our hour long trek from Incheon to what would be my new home for the coming year our procession was a spectacle to behold. Trumpets ablazing, flags awaving these Koreans sure know how to make gal feel welcome.

Nothing less than pomp and circumstance for my welcoming.

However, all of this would pale in comparison to the spectacle I was about to see...


* the author of this piece has taken a few artistic liberties in the retelling of this tale.

hippies, commies and junkies - oh my!

Vancouver British Colombia, known as much for granola munching commies as for drugs and homelessness. These two concepts usually produce images that are, for the most part, mutually exclusive. Usually.

Typically when approached by a homeless person they want one of four things:

1) money

2) food

3) smokes

4) money

Typically when they want money they’ll tell you it’s for food.

Typically when they ask for money I buy them food.

Typically when you buy them food they’ll still ask you for money.

At this point I typically walk away.

Setting: the infamously ghetto East Hastings

Main characters: Toac, Green Mango, Mike the atypical homeless guy

MAHG: excuse me could you guys help me out?

First of all that is such a loaded question, if I’m walking down the street in a leather jacket, slurping an icecap swinging a bag of overpriced souvenirs I can most certainly help you out. If I say no it’s not cause I can’t help you out, it’s because I’m a prick.

MAHG: could you buy me some food to last me a couple of days? Some bread and peanut butter maybe or some raisin bran? They’re my favourite.

What the heck? What’s a couple of bucks? At least I know where it’ll be going.

So off we go to the nearest convenience store with his shopping cart trundling along and a self righteous spring in our step.

But who says self righteousness comes cheap?

What will we be having today sir?

- Dempster’s grade A Canadian whole wheat bread

- Strawberry ensure “for the vitamins”. of course.

- A family pack of Raisin Bran

- 2% milk

“You have a pretty good diet, except for the lack of fruits and vegetables...”

Right!

- however many bananas

- oranges

“what about the peanut butter?”

Right!

- Adam’s all natural overpriced peanut butter. “I prefer the natural kind”. of course.

Snap. In Vancouver even the homeless are granola munching, organic snob commies.

slut?

walking down the street late one night near dalhousie university with a girl friend a car full of boys drove by, obviously drunk and unaccustomed to anyone darker than a paper bag one of the boys leaned out of the car window and yelled,
"SLUT!!!"

now a more sensitive person could have interpreted the situation in several different ways:

- this was a sexist comment from a drunken chauvinistic pig
- this was racially motivated verbal attack from a drunken chauvinistic pig of a bigot
- this was a case of mistaken identity and there is some short brownish slut in halifax that has in someway bruised his boyish pride

i, on the other hand, was flattered a drunken idiot could actually tell that i was a girl.

considering how many times i have been mistaken for a boy
-in broad daylight
-by sober people
-in close range

it made my entire day.

Where have all the black people gone?

I look down streets and alleys,
and behind every closed door.
They aren't in any restaurants
can't find them in the stores.

I strain my ears to hear them
I strain my eyes to search,
but i don't see my brotha
their skin's all white as birch.

I know they must exist somewhere,
I can hear their pounding beats.
The rhythms of the motherland,
I hear hip-hop in the streets.

If only i could find someone to ask them where to go.
where can i find a negro - someone darker than the snow?

what happened to the nigga-men that paved these city streets?
were they erased from history by bigots dressed in sheets?

Did they sail off to Africa? Did the tall ships take them back?
cause of all the folks I've seen today not a single one was black.

when to my left i hear it,
a soft and lonesome cry.
it's not to me she's talking,
but i hear her question "why?"

"why after centuries have passed,
why after all these years,
why when i walk through my hometown
do people stop and leer?"

I see her in the corner
but somethings no quite right.
it seems as if she might be black,
but her skin is awfully white.

what happened to you sista?
was it the plague or pox
that washed out your chestnut skin and straightened out your locks?

"what happened to me sista?
are you as dumb as they?
nothing happened to me sista,
i was born this way.

what makes your skin so chocolate
is the same that makes mine light.
God put this colour on me
and He thinks i look alright.

If you're lookin' for some coloured folk
get your head out of the ground,
your so blinded by a colour scheme
you can't see what's all around.

what exactly are you looking for?
a place where you fit in?
a person's worth is in the heart
not painted on their skin.

people come in different shades,
red, white, yellow, black and brown
when we stop lookin' at colour
only then can love abound."

I search through all the faces
my quest now seems absurd.
Was this the voice of reason
or the voice of God I heard?

I still wonder where the black folk are
'cause I know they must be here.
How can a race of people just up and disappear?

But it doesn't really matter if I can't find my kin,
why pledge allegiance to a group based on the colour of one's skin

where're you from?

since my people came here many years have gone and come
but when i walk through my home town people ask me where i'm from.
"Canada" i answer is where i'm born and raised
But ignorance is what these fools will carry to their graves.

'But really man, where are you from?
what strange foods do you eat?'
'Your face, it doesn't look like mine.
What language do you speak?'

i enunciate and say it slow, "i am Canadian".
But they can never understand so they just smile and grin.
They ask me in another way, "Where were your parents born?"
But the only answer i can give brings ridicule and scorn.
'my family is Canadian' i firmly answer back.
"That can't be true you foolish girl, your skin is clearly black."

So i turn the tables on them, I ask them where they're from.
"Newfoundland," they tell me "tried and true Canadians".
I ask them of their parents,
"Newfie bloodlines through and through".
Their voices proud as if to say, "i'm more Canadian than you".

They think their family's history surpasses that of mine,
but Newfoundland joined Canada in 1949.
"My family came on tall TALL ships, sales blowing in the wind
stolen, bruised and bloodied for the colour of their skin."
Their blue eyes lock they share a smile I"ve seen many times before
They think i should be humble downcast eyes upon the floor.

Cause no matter what i tell them, there's nothing i can say,
To them i'm just a visitor who'll go "home" someday.
There is no use in fighting. Why bother to implore?
so i take my pride and chocolate skin and calmly leave the store.

"how sweet," they say behind my back,
"she wants to be like us."
"we're open minded people,
let her sit where she wants on the bus."
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this is in no way meant to insult or otherwise "pick on" newfies. it just so happen that they were the last province to join confederation.