About Grenada
Grenada is a small island country of volcanic origin in the eastern Caribbean. It lies just 160 kilometres north of Venezuela. Grenada has a ridge of mountains that run from north to south with steep valleys. It also features large areas of tropical rainforest. Some of the Southern Grenadines islands are a dependency of Grenada, meaning it has political control.
Region
Language
English Grenadian Creole English Grenadian Creole French
Official language is English, although other languages spoken include Grenadian Creole English and Grenadian Creole French.
Population
112,519 (2022)
Area
344 square kilometres
High Commissioner
H.E. Rachér Croney
Capital
Saint George’s
Joined Commonwealth
1774, following independence from Britain
Episode guests
Amy J.W. Jones
Amy J.W. Jones is a Grenadian writer who discovered her passion for literature at a young age. She began writing in her childhood and was inspired by her father’s love for poetry and the like. Amy gained recognition through her spoken word performances. In 2014, she went on to publish her debut collection of poems, Beyond Fables: Poetry, addressing diverse social issues. She then published the Grenadian folklore novel Chains that Bind in 2019 and another anthology, A-Z Odyssey, in 2020. Amy recently published Mammy Na—an exciting memoir detailing her late grandmother’s life. A graduate of the T.A. Marryshow Community College and the holder of a Bachelor’s degree in Psychology & Counselling & Primary School Education, Amy continues to inspire and uplift others through her creative arts, with a promise of more publications in the future.
Black Woman
Skin tattered,
Black as jasper,
Timid
Yet assertive,
They named you Casper.
Naturally bound from head to toe,
Strong willed,
Determined,
You always glow.
Black woman!
Amazingly structured,
Hips swaying from side to side.
Big boned,
Firm breasts,
Passion,
Never swaying with life’s tide.
Black woman!
They abused,
They misused,
They refused,
But you were never once confused.
You stand in a crowd and you outshine the rest,
You never s-s-stammered to the things you wanted to
express,
Against the things you detest,
You protest!
The world blames that you are stressed,
Possessed,
Depressed,
A pest,
But to me,
You are nothing but the best,
You have been blessed.
Black woman!
Out to show us all that we are no longer slaves
Because that part of us died when Massa went down in the
grave.
But we,
Fools!
Caught up in our past
And a mind of revenge,
Want nothing more but our forefathers’ death to avenge.
She calls us to rise up from hurt and shame,
Our will to blame,
Our sinful aim,
Our nigga name,
This black woman knows that we should never be the same.
She calls “rise up from bondage and slavery,
From chemicals and color lighteners,
We are nothing but our skins own jewelry!”
Yet we are bound forever
In this mental eternity
Lost forever
From our destined modernity.
Black woman!
They say you are damned;
Nothing good but to be slammed.
I refuse to accept this,
Because that black woman is who I am.
Skin tattered,
Black as jasper,
Timid,
Yet assertive,
Ma named me Casper.
After Today
After a while,
You stop caring about the ones who claim to do this in love.
You stop listening to the voice that screams your name as the belt
dangles from above –
your head.
As you’re trapped under the frame of a man
with your neck perfectly fitted in his vice-grip of a hand.
You stop letting rough feet glide across your face;
you stop letting them break your ribs and move them out of
place,
as you are silenced by a fear of losing your life if you scream
but it’s just another one of his schemes
to
trap you into believing that you should stay
and continue this routine another day.
You stop letting harsh words break you down into nothingness
and the itching obligation to stay ’cause it’s for the best.
I guess what I’m trying to say
is that
this abuse
ends
Today.
Because the dawn breaks
Because the Dawn Breaks
We speak because
When the rain falls in the mountains
The river slowly swells
Comes tumbling down
Over boulders
Across roads
Crumbling bridges
that would hold their power
against its force
We speak because we dream
We speak for the same reason
that the thunder frightens the child
that the lightning startles the tree
We do not speak to defy your tenets
or to upset your plans
or to tumble your towers of Babel
but in spite of the fact that we do
We speak because we dream
because our dreams
are not sitting in pigpens
in any other body’s backyard
not of catching crumbs from tables
not of crawling forever
along the everlasting ant-line
to veer away in quick detour
when the elephant’s foot crashes down
not of having to turn back
when the smell of death
assails our senses
not of striving forever
to catch the image of your Gods
within our creation
