Poll results

Well, it seems like Rihanna's already a winner, at least with voters here. She beat out Beyoncé by receiving 82% of the votes. Beyoncé received 17% of votes. Well, we'll see at the MTV Video Music Awards on Sept. 9.

Have a good weekend, peoples. See you in a few weeks, si Dieu veux.

Fun Friday: Fave rappers turned movie stars

These days, it seems that it's all the rage to be multifaceted in the entertainment industry. It's not enough to be just a singer; you now have a breed of singer-designer (clothes, shoes, jewellery)-actor-model-dancer, you name it. Of course, some of them are Jacks of all trades and masters of none, but I digress.

This trend is particularly obvious among rappers, with 50 Cent, Eminem and T.I. appearing in movies in recent years. However, there're some other actors who are doing the acting thing and doing it well, and here are my faves:


10. Ice T. I practically grew up seeing Ice T in movies, since he started dabbling in acting since 1984's Breakin'. New Jack City and a host of other movies followed. These days, he's honing his acting skills on television on Law and Order.


9. Eve. Although Evie Eve is perhaps best known on screen from the Barbershop movies, she has had parts in the little seen The Woodsman, The Cookout and the first XXX movie. She's not the strongest of actors but she has a lot of spunk and her roles can only keep getting better.


8. Common. There ain't nothing common about Common. Although he's relatively new to movies he's a veteran in the rap game, and has an onscreen presence that many other actors would envy. He owned his scenes in Smokin' Aces, and I can't wait to see him in action in the upcoming Night Watchman, Wanted and American Gangster. He ain't hard to watch, period....


7. Ludacris. I wasn't overly impressed with Ludacris in 2Fast 2Furious , but I sat up and took notice of his skills in Crash, where he played a philosophical thief, and Hustle and Flow, where he was an over-the-top entertainer. Come to think of it, he was way too good in that role to be acting....


6. DMX. Although I'm not toally sold on DMX as an actor, he nevertheless made some half-way entertaining movies, such as Romeo Must Die, Exit Wounds, Cradle 2 the Grave and Never Die Alone. Now, if only he would get some therapy he'd be a force to be reckoned with....


5. Snoop Dogg. Snoop has made a career out of his pot-smoking, cadillac driving persona, and while I don't approve of everything he does, he's a natural actor. His roles in Baby Boy, Training Day and Starsky and Hutch are some of my favourites, though he better not make another Soul Plane movie....


4. Ice Cube. As cool as his moniker suggests, Ice Cube has tried it all: drama (Boyz N the Hood, Higher Learning); action (XXX 2, Three Kings, Anaconda); and comedy (Are We There Yet?, Are We Done Yet, Friday, Next Friday, Friday After Next). The only thing left is romantic comedies, or is he too cool for that?


3. LL Cool J. Before LL Cool J came along in Deep Blue Sea, it was always the black guy who died first in horror movies. Not only did he survive but he blew the heck outa that shark too. His résumé includes In Too Deep, Any Given Sunday, Charlie's Angels, Rollerball, Deliver Us From Eva, SWAT, Mindhunters and Last Holiday. He needs more roles...preferably where he gets to take off his shirt....


2. Queen Latifah. Dana Owens has lived up to her nickname, and is true royalty whether behind the mike or in front of the camera. From the days of Living Single we knew she could act, but she really stepped up her game in Set It Off and got people talking. The Bone Collector, Barbershop, Taxi, Beauty Shop, Last Holiday, Bringing Down the House and more followed. She was nominated for an Oscar for Chicago and critical acclaim is coming in for Hairspray. Long live the Queen!


1. Will Smith. Who else could take the number one spot but the Fresh Prince himself? He has the patent for the rapper to movie star transition down pat. He took a big chance as a gay character in Six Degrees of Separation, and did his action man thing in hits such as Independence Day, Bad Boys 1 and 2, Men in Black 1 and 2, I, Robot, Enemy of the State and Wild Wild West; got romantic in Hitch; and got nominated for Oscars in Ali and The Pursuit of Happyness. And just the other day I was singing along to Parents of Today Just Don't Understand....


Honourable mention - Tupac Shakur. Gone too soon for sure, we saw glimpses of Tupac's thespian ability in Juice, Poetic Justice and Above the Rim. Rest in peace, bro.

Update: Family recovered from Brittons Hill site

Minister of Home Affairs, Dale Marshall is at this moment reporting that the bodies of all five members of the Codrington family have been recovered from the cavern at Brittons Hill. He added that two autopsies have been conducted so far. Both he and the emergency coordinator, Dr. Brian Charles, thanked everyone involved in the effort.

Meanwhile, a trust fund has been set up to assist Doniya Linton, the three-month-old daughter of Donavere and Cassandra Codrington. Click here for more details.

Ghetto Fabulous Part Three

Disclaimer. Ghetto Fabulous is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons is coincidental.


My fingers trembled as I peeled back the slip of paper to reveal my “A” Level scores. I held my breath as my eyes ran down the column. English – B, Spanish – B, History – B. Award of an Exhibition.

Blood rushed to my head and I clutched the document to my chest and jumped up and down, grinning from ear to ear.

“Thank you, Jesus, I passed everything.” My best friend Veronica Catwell exhaled in relief and clutched my arm. "How you did?”

I showed her my slip as we walked away from the Principal’s office, where the results were being distributed. Around us, the faces of the other students mirrored the information received; some looked glum, others were jubilant; yet others were in tears.

“Exhibition, girl. Congrats.” Veronica hugged me and I congratulated her on receiving two C’s and a B.

“If it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t have done so well, Allie,” she smiled gratefully and linked her arm through mine as we walked back to our form room.

“Well, it’s thanks to you that I had somewhere quiet to study,” I assured her.

Veronica lived in a five-bedroom, three bathroom mini-mansion in Oxnards. Her parents, both lawyers, were hardly ever at home and Veronica and her 10-year old brother Simon were practically raised by a housekeeper. We spent many an evening at her house preparing for exams in peace and quiet that would not have been possible at my home.

I strongly believed that Veronica’s parents only tolerated me because I kept their daughter on a focused study path. Carefree and slightly spoiled, Veronica was not the most dedicated student in the world. While I recognised that studies would be my springboard to professional success, Veronica saw school as just somewhere to be between 8:45 a.m. and 3:00 p.m. Now that she had been successful in her “A” Levels and was University-bound, I wondered whether my presence in the Catwell household would be looked on as favourably as before.

Later that evening, I shared the news of my Exhibition with my family.

“I never had doubt you could do it,” my mother declared, folding the slip of paper with my results almost reverently, “when I catch my hand, I goin’ give you a little somethin’.”

I smiled inwardly. Mummy always expressed her feelings towards her children with money or food, just like Granny. Hugs and kisses were never a part of their socialisation.

“That’s okay, I know things rough. Anyhow, the Exhibition should cover the tuition, books, everything.”

“You plan to go Cave Hill or overseas?” Suzette queried from her place on the front house carpet where she and the two older children were colouring and drawing. The baby was asleep soundly on a blanket nearby.

Before I could reply Mummy cut in. “Overseas, obviously. Wuh point it is getting an Exhibition and studying ‘bout here? Besides, these foolish employers in Barbados like they does only respect yuh if yuh study over in away. Dem ain’ care if yuh degree come from University of Pudding and Souse, once it overseas.”

Suzette and I laughed, which started off my niece and nephew, who always liked a good laugh even though most of the time they didn’t understand what the joke was about.

“Yuh all very happy in here tonight. Wuh happen?” Daddy walked in, touching each of his grandchildren on the head and playfully slapping Suzette and I with his Nike cap before joining Mummy on the small sofa.

Mummy sucked her teeth and pulled her flowered duster closer to her small bosom. “We must be happy, you wasn’t home. Anyhow, your chile pass she exams and get an Exhibition.”

Daddy’s eyes lit up and he held out his arms. “Come here girl, that’s good news. Wait till I tell Dove and the other fellas.”

He stopped in mid-hug and asked: “Wait, wuh today’s date is? These got to be lucky numbers!”

As he and Mummy started to quarrel, I sighed and headed to my room.


That's all for now, folks. Hope you enjoyed.

Happy Independence, T&T!

Cheese-on-bread extends congrats to Trinidad and Tobago, which celebrates its 45th Anniversary of Independence today. Despite any differences we might have, all yuh is still family.

Click here to read the Trinidad Express' Independence editorial, and here to see which Trinidadians received national honours.


Photo of Port-of-Spain: http://images.wcities.com

Ghetto Fabulous Part Two

Disclaimer. Ghetto Fabulous is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons is coincidental.



Our tiny two-bedroom, board and wall house could have gone unnoticed in the row of similar houses situated in a small community on the edge of the capital Bridgetown. What set it apart from the others was its vibrant yellow colour and small verandah painted in a shade of blue. That, and the red, gold and green flag fluttering from a pole atop the roof of the wooden room my older brother Colin, the resident Rastafarian, had added on to the house.

My mother and Colin had argued bitterly over the flag. Mummy didn’t want the neighbours to think the entire household subscribed to that “Rasta sh**e”, while Colin declared that he could no longer be a part of a family that did not allow him to express his beliefs. Since Mummy depended on the small financial contribution Colin made to the household, and since Colin, for all his bravado, was not yet willing to rough it in the country with his new “brethren”, a truce was called. The flag was not flown on Sundays.

My parents DaCosta Mayers and Cyralene Carter were both in their mid-forties, and had been together since their school days at the Modern High School. My father had never seen the need to marry, and my mother had given up trying to convince him otherwise. My maternal grandmother Evadne Carter was not my father’s biggest fan, and stated on more than one occasion that if her daughter was “good enough to get children, she was good enough to marry”.

Some men had women as their vice, others alcohol. My father’s vice was gambling. I grew up hearing him relate tales of gambling on cockfights, dog fights and horses. These days, it was the local lotteries and the slot machines in Marhill Street. Even before he was made redundant from one of the top factories in the island, his free time was filled with choosing number combinations, shading in the numbers on the pink and white lottery forms and then strolling to the mini mart at the end of the gap to purchase the tickets. He sometimes got lucky, but those times were few and far between.

Even with a man in the house, my mother was the undisputed head of our household. When I was aged nine or ten, I remember going with her to the factory one Friday afternoon to collect her share of my father’s wages. Embarrassed, I shifted from leg to leg and listened to the other half dozen women who had come on the same mission.

“This is bare foolishness. You think I had right to be out here in the hot sun like I collecting school children?” one fat dark-skinned woman in an acid wash jeans skirt and pink t-shirt fumed as she pulled an umbrella out of her handbag.

“Miss thing, you know if we doan’ come here on payday by the time the drunken b*tches get home all the money gone,” another lady pitched in as the others nodded in agreement.

“Mind wunna language please, my child here,” Mummy frowned at the group.

Before they could launch into more tales of their boyfriends’ and husbands’ shortcomings, a whistle blew signaling the end of the day’s work. The women watched expectantly as the men trooped towards the gate. I spotted Daddy, dark and slim and still wearing overalls and boots, heading in our direction. My mother’s grip on my hand tightened as she steeled herself for the encounter.

“Cyralene Carter, why you bring my child here for?” Daddy’s face was set up like a thundercloud.

“Because I can’ trust you to walk straight, that’s why. Gimme the little money so I can get in Ricks before it close, do.”

Grumbling, he reached into his pocket and peeled off four fifty-dollar bills from the small roll of cash. Before he could hand it to Mummy, she snatched the money and removed another two bills.

“The light bill high this month,” she said as she returned what was left.

“Listen, if Allison wasn’t here I would ‘buse you, woman. You think I’s a li'l boy or wuh? How I suppose to buy a little drink for the fellas wid this pocket change?” He waved a fifty-dollar note as he spoke.

“Win some more, nuh.” She turned and we headed down to the main road to catch the bus to ‘town.

My mother wasn’t a large woman. Barely five feet two inches, brown-skinned and shapely, she looked far younger than her forty-five years. Of the three of us, Suzette resembled her the most; Colin and I were dark-skinned like our father.

Since Daddy lost his job, Mummy sold vegetables on Saturdays in Cheapside market along with her regular job as a janitor at a nearby primary school. With our mother’s two jobs, Suzette’s small income, Colin’s on and off landscaping work and my summer jobs, we were able to keep the creditors at bay and fill the apparently bottomless pit of need experienced by a household of eight.

Fiction - Ghetto Fabulous

Hi, peoples. Tomorrow will be my last day of blogging for a while. I'm heading overseas on a course and I'll be away for about three weeks. As usual, I like to leave you a little reading material, and during the day I'll post up a story I started a year go by the name of Ghetto Fabulous. I never got around to entering it for NIFCA, and it's still to be completed. I think I'm going to need a leave of absence from work to finish all these stories....

Ghetto Fabulous is the story of a Barbadian teenager named Allison Mayers who lives on the outskirts of Bridgetown. A bright and focused student, Allison yearns for more than her "ghetto" upbringing can provide, and some peace away from her dysfunctional family. But is the "fabulous" life of upper-class Barbadian society all it's cracked up to be? Hope you enjoy.


Disclaimer. Ghetto Fabulous is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons is coincidental.

Part One

There has to be more to life than this. Lord, there just has to be.

I frowned at my reflection in the mirror as I dusted the shabby wooden dresser.

I can’t imagine spending the rest of my life in this place. Going nowhere fast.

“Wait Allison, you ain’t done yet? You does take long to do everything, then!” My sister Suzette barged into our tiny bedroom, hands filled with packages from her weekly Saturday morning shopping in the City.

“If you were here to help I would get through faster, disgrace.” I replaced the deodorant, body lotion and perfume bottles on the dresser and turned my attention to dusting my favourite possession in the room, my mahogany-finished bookcase.

My sister sucked her teeth. She hated when I used the nickname she had been saddled with in recent months. Suzette had delivered her third child, Davonne, three months earlier, adding to her brood of D’wayne, five and Damesha, three. Our grandmother said Suzette was not only a disgrace for having three children by different fathers at 21, but also for giving them all “new-fashion” names beginning with “d”.

“She’s a “d” word too, a disgrace,” Granny fumed. Nevertheless, because she knew it wasn’t her great-grandchild’s fault its mother had yet again brought shame on the family, our grandmother presented Suzette with a bag filled with diapers, milk and clothes.

“Where the other people that live in here?” Suzette dropped her parcels on the floor, spilling afro-kinky hair weave, styling gel and other cosmetics on the tattered bedroom rug.

“It’s Saturday. I’m the only idiot who gets stuck in the house on Saturdays,” I retorted, shooting a dirty look in the direction of the bags on the floor. Suzette saw the look and, muttering about my “neat freakiness”, began to push the items under the bed. I sighed. Sometimes I felt like I was the older sibling, rather than three years Suzette’s junior.

“Mummy took Damesha with her to work, Daddy down by Dove, the children’s fathers came for them and Colin went ‘town too.” I rattled off the whereabouts of our household as I straightened the books on the shelf.

“I hope dem clowns remember to leave the child money. I ain’ bout running down nuhbody today.”

I told her that her former boyfriends had indeed left their monetary support. Suzette grinned broadly and ran to the front-house and retrieved the envelopes that I had placed under Mummy’s plaster-of-Paris Dalmatian.

“Remember D’wayne needs new school shoes and Damesha’s preschool fees due!” I yelled from the bedroom. That sister of mine probably already had plans for the money, I thought. Along the lines of a hairdo and new outfit.

To say that Suzette was not a loving mother to her three children would be a lie. She loved her children immensely. However, she loved being a 21 year old, attractive woman just as much. She was one of those lucky women who seemed to revert almost instantly to their original weight after pregnancy, so much so that it was almost impossible to guess from her figure that she had three children.

Brown-skinned and shapely, Suzette tended to be the centre of attention wherever she went and men loved her. That was one part of her problem. The other part was that she never met a guy to whom she could say no.

First came Chris, who attended the same secondary school as Suzette and came from a well-off St. James family. To say that his parents were displeased was an understatement. By the time they had gathered up enough courage to come to our house on the outskirts of the City to convince our mother to intervene, Suzette was already ten weeks along. An abortion was out of the question, Mummy declared, stating that she would not be a party to destroying any human life. When D’wayne was born, Chris’ parents instantly fell in love with the baby and a truce was called.

Then came John. A gold-toothed sweet talker, he worked as a minibus conductor along the route Suzette took to her job as a receptionist in Christ Church. She fell for him hard and dumped Chris. John disappeared when he heard Suzette was pregnant with Damesha and the last thing we heard he had moved to St. Vincent.

Ryan the construction worker followed. I had hoped he and Suzette would work out because he was hardworking and honestly loved my sister and her children, but, as Granny said, Suzette only liked to look down and not up, and she had broken off with him just after Davonne was born. She told him she was suffering from “post parting depression”. He took a hint and moved on.

To give Jack his jacket, Chris and Ryan supported their children well, and Damesha was lavished with as much love and attention as possible to make up for her lack of a father.

I didn’t have a boyfriend. Not when I saw where men had gotten Suzette. I planned to study, get a good job and get out of the ghetto before it was too late.

Thursday links

Two bodies recovered from Arch Hall site
We definitely need to pray right now
Grenada's PM is having his worse year ever

The Mighty Sparrow hearts Obama too
Mandela gets well-deserved honour
War rages on in Iraq
Who's Rihanna dating now?
Other artists really love Umbrella

Photo of Nelson Mandela: www.bbc.co.uk

Common videos in the sidebar

Music videos from rapper Common are now being featured in the sidebar. A conscious rapper who has been around for a long time, Common is a breath of fresh air and a good change from the women-bashing, bling-toting rappers out there. Enjoy.

The sad story of Arch Cot

Well, we've moved into day four of the Arch Cot, Brittons Hill tragedy. After praying that the Codrington family would be found alive, I'm now hoping that the bodies of the five members of the Codrington family will be recovered so that their family can have closure to this tragic event.

After spending several hours at Brittons Hill yesterday, I just wanted to make some observations and ask some questions:

1. Arch Cot really is a "ground zero". It's hard to reconcile the neat, landscaped neighbourhood that I sometimes pass on my way to work with what I saw yesterday. The eerie stillness of the empty homes closest to the caved-in apartment building contrasted with the noise of generators, excavators and officials giving orders.

On my way in, (I wasn't sure which way to go and ended up going through St. Cyprian's school yard) I passed through the driveway of a neighbouring home, stepped over a collapsed chain link fence and skirted the overturned racing car that was recovered from the rubble earlier in the week. That brought me directly opposite the shelf on which the apartment stood. Beyond was a sheer drop to the cavern below. I realised too that the house to the right of the cave-in (pictured above) was starting to show signs of structural damage as well.

2. There were so many Government ministers on the site I thought it was a Cabinet meeting. Dale Marshall was there, seemingly doing everything except operate the excavator, and five other Cabinet ministers were in attendance at different points during the night. PM Arthur must be so proud....

3. The trying and tragic circumstances brought out the good in a lot of people. I saw firemen, policemen, BDF soldiers, civil servants, DEO and CERO personnel, Roving Response teams, Almond Beach staff (provided food), crane operators, etc. working non-stop on the site. Of course there were a few cooks spoiling the broth but they were negligible.

4. Although fewer in number when compared to Sunday, there were still scores of persons pressed up to the barricades, watching the recovery effort. Since officials were expecting to recover the bodies last night, the crowd was watching attentively as the recovery teams were inserted and later lifted from the cavern. The body language and expressions of the BDF and fire personnel who comprised the rescue teams were scrutinised to see if they had encountered the bodies.

As I looked around the neighbourhood, the questions that came to me were: What's going to happen to these homes? Will residents be compensated? Who will compensate them? Did the builders of the homes have permission to build there? Who gave them the permission? I'm not even sure there are any immediate answers because this is a totally novel experience for us Bajans.

Well, first things first. Hopefully we'll find the victims of the cave-in, mourn their loss and then take it from there. In the meantime, please support Starcom Network's Brittons Hill Back on Your Feet Again Appeal. Starcom is collecting items for the residents displaced by the cave-in. These items include new toiletries, linens, non-perishable food items, stationery and school items. Donation barrels have been placed in the lobby of Starcom Network, River Road. I'll update you as I get more information.

Photo: www.nationnews.com

Brittons Hill Cave-In (Car Recovery)