Calling All Bajan storytellers
Over the past 2 years, I have reignited my love for writing with this blog, publishing a non-fiction book, and writing a few other books - both fiction and non-fiction. Reconnecting to my love for writing made me reminisce on the books I used to read as a child and teenager, as well as the essays and projects I used to write. Clearly they weren’t that bad, because I never lost my love for reading, language or writing, but both then and now, I am left with questions. Anyone reading this who grew up in Barbados will remember the books we read by Caribbean authors as students. I’ll be honest - I don’t think back on any of those books or short stories with fondness. Some of them were well written, and very descriptive, and they displayed the themes that we were discussing in literature, but for me many of them were depressing, and I felt that they were always about “the struggle”. I didn’t feel that they accurately represented my own life growing up in the Caribbean (or the people I knew) and they didn’t encourage me to want to read or write. I am not even sure they encouraged me to like myself or my heritage very much.
Luckily, I grew up in a house full of books of all sorts - my older sister was (and is) an avid reader, so I could read her books - and through them I traveled from Narnia to the Faraway tree to St Clare’s many times over. My father had a large collection of encyclopedias (and I’ll be honest - I still miss browsing through those books and learning random facts about vuvuzelas and astronomy) and we visited the library frequently to quench our appetites for new stories. I have memories of essay competitions, and much of the writing that I did in secondary school, and I was always fascinated by language and how it is woven together to paint a picture.
But I never forgot those books I read that were set here in the Caribbean. The question I always had to ask was - why were they so depressing and hopeless. Why did I feel like the life I had (and wanted) was reflected more in books about fair skinned blonde British school children than in the ones that were set on the shores of these islands? Where were the tales that were filled with the joy I had as a child picking dunks and eating them until my stomach hurt, playing red light-green light-1-2-3 or falling in love with that dark chocolate skinned, nerdy looking boy in glasses across the school courtyard? Where was my happily ever after? And I wasn’t crazy enough to believe that in life there weren’t ups and downs - I had plenty in my own life, but I wondered where the books were that made me be proud to be who I am, to be “from ‘bout here” rather than making me want to run away or be someone else?
As an adult when I started to revisit the idea of publishing a book, I also had my doubts. Where would my writing fit into the region, since I had no intention of writing the types of books I had read as a child. I wanted to write a great Caribbean love story, fantasy, or adventure, or (as I attempted a few months ago) the Caribbean literary equivalent of a Hallmark movie. I wanted to see my own experiences mirrored in the pages. I wanted to see books from this region that were filled with hope for a younger generation, instead of always seeing the struggle. In short - I wanted to tell my story. I wanted to see my story. And I wanted to see the full range of stories from the region.
The thing is - those stories of struggle, of the atrocities, of the oppression - they definitely need to be told. But where are the other stories? The stories of joy, and fun. Of laughter and mischief? Of hope and success? Where are the stories that make us love these places? That make us love ourselves and each other? When I think of the experiences that have had positive influences on my life, it is the positive images around me of people who look like me that make me love and believe in myself. I worry that if the only stories that we write are the ones of struggle, that the next generation may think that is all that is available to them, or at the very least that is all that is available for them to write.
All stories need to be told. Not only the struggle but the joy. The stories that build trust and connection in our communities. The stories that make us stronger as a people. All stories need to be told, and I have started by telling mine - in many forms - through my blog, and my books. I think that everything we write tells our stories - our memes, blogs, books about the subjects that are near and dear to our hearts, even the fairy tales that we tell. All stories need to be told, and heard.
I have it on good authority that more and more, these stories are being told, and I want to hear them. This year, I want to feature Barbadian authors and bloggers of ALL genres (fiction, non-fiction, historical, textbook etc), both their books (and blogs) and a conversation - about what inspired them to tell their story, or to share their wisdom. If you are a Barbadian author or if you know one, please direct them to contact me, so that I can put this project together. This year the Bajan storytellers will speak and be heard. Email me at 39andcountingblog@gmail.com and look out for this project in the next couple of months!
To close, here is the link to one of my favourite TED talks by the Nigerian author Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. She talks about the danger of a single story, and how it leads us (and others) to believe only one thing about ourselves. It is for this (and so many other reasons) that this year I want to share our stories. I look forward to hearing from you!
And I send you big love from a small island.
PS check out this article from Roast Breadfruit featuring Bajan authors who published through Amazon. I’m there too!!!