Yeah I Wrote This!

Truly, this thread is flat. It lacks luster, real insight and analyzation. Surely, this thread has been thwarted in order to confuse those who are not quite aware of our past, familiar with the intricacies our history. The UBP party does not, just represent the supression of the black majority by the white minority, albeit that was a latent issue during that time. The party also represented harsh classism, brutal elitism, social devide and moreso, the era promote inequality between the haves and the havenots. The party represented a thinking; a thinking that a certain group of individuals were born to be in charge and that all others are inferior by nature. Note that the party had both black and white membership, notwithstanding the fact that the majority were white.

All that being said, when asked whether a ‘Brent Symonnette’ and the like, take us back to the time of the UBP era?” I have no idea. Nevertheless, I am still analyzing, refusing to put on blinders seeing only the rosey coloured picture. __________________

Originally Posted by BahamaWave I’m hearing a lot of people saying that if Brent Symonnete was to become PM that he would take us back to the old UBP ways of racism and discrimination.
Now I ask you for God’s sake, do you think that in this day and age that we Bahamians would simply stand by like sheep and allow this to happen to us?
There would be riots in the streets before that happens. We must not have much faith in our strength if we believe we can be controlled so easily.
Remember, we the people have the power, not the leaders.

(c)    http://www.bahamasissues.com/showthread.php?t=5928

Personally, I have few stories to tell about my father. His life was an enigma to me. I know little of what he did for recreation, his religious belief or even about what moved him. However, one incident that does stand out is the first time I saw the Ocean.

I was about 4 years old. I remember Nassau seeming big and grand. I remember down town seeming far. And I remember Long Warf being clean with sand for miles.

I vaguely remember how we got to the beach. I assume we caught the bus, as walking would have taken forever. I remember seeing wooden sloops anchored off in the distant. Years later I would learn that they were Haitian boats, here to trade. I remember them being painted brightly; bright red bottoms with blue trims and yellows.

I remember being proud that day. Oddly, when I reflect back, I still feel a sense of pride. It was my day out with my dad. It was a special day. He wanted to teach me how to swim.

I remember always swiming in the bathtub at home. Wasting water they use to call it. My mother always recant stories about how I use to put my head under the bathtub’s water and hold my breath for long periods of time. But this outting with my father was the first time that I actually seen the deep blue. I was amazed.

I can still remember him taking of his shirt and mine. I even can vaguely remember the conversation. Impressive aye? I just bad like that I guess. I tend to remember a lot of useless stuff. Anyway, the proudest moment I remember was when my father jumped into the water and swam to the wooden sloops and touch one of them. To me he was like superman with out the cape. I remember the sloops being near the wall at Arawak Cay. I remember the water being deep. I remember him not putting his head in the water as he swam, zoning in on this target. And I remember it being my time.

Yeah right. I remember being a quiet child. Not asking too many questions, just sucking my thumb and observing. I remember my father asking, “you see that now you do it.” Amazingly, I remember looking straight in his face and staring blankly without saying a word; yet thinking ‘this man must think I am stupid, that water deep.’

I remember being waist deep in the water watching him swim. Waist deep in the water talking to him while he propelled his hands in a swimming motions showing me what I must do. And I remember being oddly silent as I watched him. Then, I remember him swiftly lifting me up without warning and flinging me into the deep ocean. Later, I found that this is how he learnt how to swim. I remember sinking to the bottom of the water, hitting sand, eyes wide open, not panicing but watching.

I remember holding my breath and I remember thinking: I remember thinking to myself I aint ga move. I ga stay right here until he save me. And that I did. It must have been at least 12 seconds I stayed under water. Impressive I think for a 4 year old. Nevertheless, my father realizing that I was not swiming, nor attempting to swim, but actually doing nothing, just laying flat beneath the ocean, waiting on him to do something, panic and saved him. I wonder now if I had drown how would he have explained that to my mother.

Anyway, I remember him finally yucking me out, asking if I am alright, wiping my face and me silently nodding my head and saying, I was holding my breath waiting on you to save me.

And this was how I did or did not learn how to swim.

http://www.genebase.com/user/2012171?module=fact&type=lifestory&by=canewry