Win'rush Pickney Prosody: Win'rush Nurse & Other Poems

By Horlene Hanlan

Last year we celebrated the 75th Anniversary of Windrush.
Win'rush Pickney Prosody explores the experiences of the Windrush Generation and its offspring. In this text, Patois is the vehicle used to navigate a complex social history. Highlighting a few dichotomies that may have led to the Windrush Scandal. It explores the 'ignition' of a fire, (co-dependency between Jamaica and the British crown); The 'growth' of the fire, (realisation that much has been removed from the Land of Wood and Water - educationally, financially, technologically, historically, medically, with little returned; The 'development' of the fire, (Rastafari men and women called for Reparation and Repatriation decades ago). The islands are now, 'republic boun'; In the 'decay' phase, the fire within is the Caribbean is raging. The region has evolved, it is out of its puberty and now steps into adulthood. So too, all Jambrits Win'rush Pickney, especially. Love Lettahs celebrates Frederick Dowie, my grandfather, a World One veteran, who then, loyally served King and country.

Section titles are:
• History;
• Life;
• Windrush Generation;
• J'cans & World Wars.

Themes veined through the text are:
• Patois language
• Belonging
• Dsplacement
• Love & Marriage
• Femicide/Matricide
• Domestic violence
• Politics (both sides of the Atlantic).

The reader decides whether Caribbeans' life has improved (the new tribe - created for a 'New World') or, is Caricom justified in its call for unity when putting forth, 'The Ten Point Reparations Programme'.

See poem entitled:
'Reparation'.

Not much has been heard about the experience of The 'Windrush' child.
A voice silenced during the recent Windrush Scandal and subsequent debates.
Through a plethora of themes, the Win'rush Pickney's voice is explored.
Telling the tale of Jambrits who still feel the brunt of the immigrant experience.

Recruited by the British to rebuild a beleaguered post-war economy, the Windrush Generation were reliable, hard-working, vibrant human beings. They were, 'The People Who Came.'
Win'rush Pickney Prosody celebrates what it is to be a Jambrit living in the African Diaspora.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jul 27, 2023
• ISBN: 9781446786222

Book preview

History

Urban Music

Today, colon man 

Call Dancehall,

'Urban Music'

An' we Reggae,

'Im berate.

Facey!

- Ah we social history

We music narrate!

On dat,

Let us be clear.

We islan' still control by

Colon man bigotry.

Dat's why we chant

'Bout livin' in

Jamdung's financial

Vortex, my dear.

Like dih ol' times

O' we fore-fadah an' modah,

Ah we life story dancehall

And reggae tell.

Passin' from one generation

To dih oddah.

Sint'ing we learn from

Dose innovative inventor

- We fore-bearah.

Patois,

Like dem,

Is unique to we nation.

Togeddah,

We gi' yesteryear's generation,

We Mama an' Papa,

All dih HONOUR

An' GLORY,

FOREVER,

We proud

O' we patois langwij

An' ancestry.

Patois

Fih we langwij colon man no respec'.

Dat's why 'im call it a dialec'.

Papa use it fih fight plantation brutality

An' Mama?

She pav'd dih road fih you an' me.

We Patois nah tu'n duppy.

We nah shove it undergoun'.

O' we Patois we proud.

- Yuh nuh hear 'ow we talk it loud?

Patois sav'd many from dih crown's reign o' terror

An' dat, was not by error.

We fore-parents use it fih hinfluence

We fight 'gainst colon man's domestic violence.

Never fazed, from dem born

to dih en' o' deir days,

Mampy an' Grampy use Patois to resis'

Colon man's imperiled,

Immoral ways.

Patois is why nuff Jamaican en' up mentally section

Or in pris'n ah Henglan'.

Colon man

Wah we feel we langwij less dan.

While him preten' not to understan'.

Even in JA schoolyards

It,

Dem wah ban.

"Speak properly.

Talk the King's English."

'Ouse slaves insis'.

Hediat outah we dem try mek.

Doin' dem bes', fih erase

We African-European word sangwij.

Bredren!

Jamaica Patois 'ave a special place

In we history.

Ah fih we antiquity!

It 'tan up 'trong

'Gainst redcoat soldiers' bayonets an' gun!

Patois breed out o' owl-like wisdom

An' is why slavery done!

Ah time we stop undermine we langwij

Ah we ancestor mek it!

Tek we que from dih chosen few

People like,

Marse Ron,

Winston 'Bello' Bell

An'

Miss Lou.

Gweh! Wid yuh 'ouse slave baggage!

Yuh nah liss'n dis 'conscious' message?

Grampy nevah stumble.

Granny nay-nah grumble.

Instead, adversity-led,

Dem invent dem ownah etymology.

An' Bredren,

Dat's not mythology.

Tacky's Easter Rebellion

TACKY an' dem,

Rebels wid a serious cause,

Sharpen dem machete,

Colonial system haffi done!

Dem Patois state.

Dih colon man

Problem escalate.

Planters ketch dem 'fraid.

To dem,

Dih enslave,

Jus', nay-nah behave.

When mutinies

Dih henslav'd led.

In St Mary,

Droves of settlers fled.

Leavin' redcoat soldjahs,

(Dose dat bled),

Pon forrest'd groun's,

- Dead.

Searchin' shacks

At Frontier Plantation,

Whips crack pon

Enshackl'd backs.

Fill'd wid wrat'

An' Willie Lynch hate,

At Trinity Estate,

Non-plussed slavers

Talk nuff fart.

"Patois' not allowed

On our plantations

Or on this,

Our newly created

'New World' nation!

Here, no new languages

Will be spoken.

Not by you our slaves,

Or by anyone."

Full up ah might,

TACKY

Continue him word fight.

"Freedom or war!

Colon man a tek t'ings too far'!

When redcoat soljas attack,

Courage,

Me an' my bredren dem

Nah lack!"

At Heywood Hall,

Flyin' parties

TACKY did cuss.

"We gwine tu'n back

Unuh an'

Dis BC colonial clock!"

Settlahs fret

When TACKY bu'n

Fort Haldane

An' Esher Estate

To dih grung.

See,

Militia an' soldjah

Lef' fih dead,

By dose subjugat'd,

- Dih enslaved.

Soh, settlers

Go wake

A hangry Governor

Outah 'im bed.

Tell him seh,

Tacky an' dem

Seekin' freedom.

Dih Governor shake him head

'Im frown

Den,

For Englan's crown,

Him deman', 

"Every rebel man

Must be cut down!"

Dih freedom fighters' bravery

(Deemed a crime),

Was met wid brutal hostility.

Dih Akan an’ fighting men

Were thus,

- Maligned.

Near dih en',

Sir Henry Moore,

Dih Governor,

Feelin' vengeful an' sore,

Sen' maroon an' soldjah

To even Jamaica

planter-bwoy score.

Shortly aftah,

Davey

(dih maroon),

Captur'd

TACKY

- Our hero.

Sadly,

It is said,

TACKY,

Davey

- Did behead.

Granny & Grampy

Wid gusto,

Dem abuse we Granny.

Henglan' monarch's focus was on ventures

To do wid money.

Dih crown nevah care 'bout dose who weep,

Wuk wid lickle sleep

Or,

Forc'd to trundle

Wid 'eavy bundle,

Up an' dung Jamdung's sugar hill.

The monarch's concern?

'Ow much cash innah dih till

Our people never ha' no say.

Disdain, laced wid

Bible-beatin' devilry,

Rape, cato-nine lashin',

An' disparagement,

Ah wah,

Grampy,

A 'Subjec' who labah for free,

Get from dih imperial crown heveryday.

Dare I say -

Dat was 'im pay.

Reparation

Dih oddah day,

Right yahsoh,

Ah Yard,

Dih son of

Dih current monarch

Mek one speech.

I'm couldah grin him teet'

Lickle more.

It obvious,

We 'istoric pain

Dem gladly hignore.

We,

Dem truly abhore.

Nuh wah understan'.

Dem nah say dem wrong.

No wah deal wid we

REPARATION.

Sugar Poun'

No ifs or buts,

Planters and Merchants

Full up o' racial hate.

Not in a hurry

Dem really want to escape

From tell we,

Dih descendants of dose

Dey enslaved

- sorry.

Me still say,

It not too late.

Even though me know

Sorry cyah mend soldier lorry.

Dey value dih sugar poun'

Dat finance dih gol'

Pon 'Golden Age '

Empirical crown.

today we note

Dey avoid  accountability

mek up dem mind

Seh dem nah apologise

spread despicable lies.

develop more imperial ties.

Dih new king

Seh slavery is sinting,

Him team an' him 'researching'.

Guess whah?

Me don't understand

Fih him level of reasoning.

A whah kind o' foolinish,

Dih Palace regurgitating?

Do You, Like Me, See?

Do You, Like Me, See?

Desperate men and women board crafts

On high seas, seeking opportunities?

Headed toward a fallacy on lands claimed to be free?

Think about our world's modern history. is it not a mystery?

Like olden times,

- During the fifteenth century,

New' lives in a 'New World, the appeal.

Broken hearts set sail on boats that hold dreams

- So frail,

Leaving behind homelands beleaguered by poverty and starvation striving for families' social mobility.

Can you, like me, see the irony?

If it wasn't so serious, I'd say it's funny.

Africans die of hyperthermia

On oceans and seas,

they drown, freeze AND die from

Dis - Ease.

'He'

Implements

New immigration policies.

No! he says to all illegal entries."

Yet, PM he became on the back of

Being the child of an 'Immigrant' family.

Untenable situation

-Both families fleed

Yet, they'll stop at nothing.

Their priority?

the protection of 'tiefing' monopolies.

They'd do anything to 'fit' in.

Small boats and rubber dinghies,

Make them fret.

The 'Others'

Who cross Channel waters,

By-passing borders make them upset.

Even though, both forget their mothers

Made similar Journeys.

Now, isn't that interesting?

Woman Duppy Laugh

I weep when on Parliament TV

I see House of Commons' MPs

Debate the topic of immigrants at sea.

They do so very vehemently.

I cast my mind in empathy

For those who survived

The horrors faced on that journey.

Bringing to the forefront of my consciousness

The basics of mankind and our earthly humanity.

I wonder if I too had to flee

From my beloved country,

Would the experience

Change the fundaments of me?

Listening to men and women undermine

Those who fled a life of tyranny.

I sip my cup of tea fashioned from

the wealth of the East India Company,

WHILE

MPs who live in relative luxury

Berate those who survived the heave and froth

Of oceans that rolled and rocked,

Taking lives of those men and women

Who dared to take a fair chance at life,

Wearing a smile and the

Armour of ambition and bravery,

Wanting a life free of mental anguish,

Deleting the lack of prospects

And continuing to be socially impoverished.

Instead, those MPs, most are descendants

Who inherited wealth

Founded upon concrete made

From greed and colonial mastery.

While seated on my blood red settee

I sit with a heart that is so heavey

While listening ever so quietyly,

I fathom a stench of hypocrisy.

When she states,

"I shall prevent 'foreign' bodies

'Swarming' to this,

'Her' 'enrichened' country."

Does that loon know it's

Built on the foundations

Of

Sugar and Slavery.

STRANGE...

Does the Home Secretary

connect?

Was not her own, one of those families?

Desperate, in need of a safe haven to land,

Does she not remember the days before

She married grand, born out of

A 'once upon a time'?

I snigger.

Guess what?

By the PM she was fired!

I am tired,

All the same,

A Jamaica Woman Duppy

Who laugh

Ke-ke-kee-kee!

Indentured Convicts

Did Taino men and women