Friday, July 23, 2010


Today I was thinking of the biblical teaching on 'pruning' and how liberating it has been for me to prune certain people and elements from my life. Those 'frienimies' and creeps who see you as a stepping stone to the next level, or as bragging right into the kingdom.

We all have a deeply rooted need to 'connect to other people. For some of us connecting could be as safe as meeting the right partner for marriage, to others it may be a group and yet to another it may be that online connection that pings from afar. Whatever the connection, we humans need to belong to someone.

So I was fascinated recently when a total stranger with tons of baggage became my 'friend'. Again here I was thinking it's nice to have 'friends'. We had similar interest, West Indies Cricket, Barry White, quite moments and we shared the same sign, Aries. What better match could there be?

I learnt much about my friend; that my friend 'could not be not married, had two children at home and one somewhere else, and a spouse recovering from a terrible ordeal. I learnt that, life's lessons lived by my friend could be applicable to my present situation, and I marveled at HOW our friendship developed. And for the first couple of weeks I felt I was looking into a mirror. I thought two strangers could never be so alike. It was uncanny the way we were so alike.

I had been told I was driven, focused and straightforward and I saw all of those in my friend, who was a hardworking, self employed professional managing a business.

But I also saw the darker side of me, the bold, bitch with a 'fuck you' attitude and every time that person surfaced I kept wondering "Why is every frigging thing always about freaking YOU?" .

Then my 'friend called at 2:30 pm one afternoon last week, needing something done urgently. Stupid me for thinking I was helping my friend in a jam. I hate it, when I am asked to do something for someone and they behave as though I am a nuisance to them. And that's the crux of my gripe because that is how my friend was behaving.

Well Aries that I am, I called my 'friend' ungrateful. Every time I did something 'nice' it was never appreciated, always denigrated. My friend's reaction was immediate, righteous indignation. I don't give a flying fuck because in my opinion people who remain friends to use you as a convenience for any reason are opportunist and cannot be a 'friend.'

The Uninhibited Diplomat

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LE NOIREAU- Prologue

There was chaos in Scotland Bay Village. Everywhere, everyone was busy; packing, unpacking, leaving burnt bare lands for the Americans.

Away from the noises and confusion the aquamarine Caribbean waves played a soft calypso rhythm, strumming, rippling, kissing bare toes, feet and ankles dug deep into the cold, clammy sand.

The air was laden, ready, thick with the rancid scent of seaweed, salt and smoke carried in the spray; pushed by angry, crashing, foaming waves against a stony coastline up and around the Bay’s end.

She was misted; creating an eerie appearance as she sat back hunched on a fallen tree trunk embedded in the sand; knees tucked under the wide folds of her skirt. Damp grainy sand and the sea waters rushed up; bubbling in between her fingers and feet. Gently she rested her chin on her knees and looked out at the fading horizon, watching the day in its brilliance and splendor of death at sunset. The fiery gold of the sun’s rays; fingering, shimmering on the aquamarine canopy of the sea, dazzling blinding and ever so slowly, churning to taunting, tangerine orange and saffron reds; cascading into purple, violets and royal blue of evening time with ballet like precision. And later as stars peeping first play hide and seek with the naked eye, streaks of charcoal gray strut into midnight black, shadowing the earth into illusions of peace-fullness, as twinkling jewels finally sparkle in the phosphorescent gleam of a splendid Caribbean moonlight.

The gulf steamer disregarding war time surveillance orders; tugged by, alerting Astral Le Noireau to the lateness of the hour. She sighed lifted tiny hands from the sand and stared as the grains quietly trickled back into their places on the seemingly un-rumpled shore. The signal light of the streamer as it passed by and answering flashed from the lighthouse, momentarily blinded her as she turned huge tear filled almond shaped golden eyes up and then out, taking in the silver-ness of the long familiar Scotland Bay coastline, now bathed in the beauty of a full Caribbean moonlight. The gentle breeze blew her blue black hair into her eyes and face, as one hand rose gracefully to whip the unruly strands back into place. Silently a figure standing in the shadows of a coconut palm tree observed her.

Astral stood crying silently, watching the village she so love fade into the night shadows as the steamer padded laboriously out into the first Boca. Every inch further way from Scotland Bay felt like a fist clenching around her lung, stifling her, killing her. She stood rooted until Chateau le Noireau was no longer visible as they rounded the bend at Delgada Point. Until tears of frustration overwhelmed her and she crumbled to the seat on the almost empty steamer. Astral Le Noireau and her precious possession were some of the last things to evacuate from her village.

The Marines had put her on the ferry.

(c) 2006 Cecly Ann Mitchell

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