seethingblue's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- mrs. washington i used to love it when kim's mom, Mrs. Washington, would braid my hair; her coconut oil palms were fragrant as they parted my thick strands into three sections, and she never complained about the thickness or unruly curls like other adults. She was from Barbados and her accent was as thick as the sun and as full as the moon with bright stars and comets for extra emphasis. i had been deciphering accents for four years now- the accent of what was to become my first language, the accent of my mother, and the accent of the Fillipino children who came to play at my house with their little Neepa Huts. Kim's house was directly behind mine; our concrete slabbed back porches almost touched and she would call erica out to play every afternoon and saturday morning and i would tag along to see Mrs. Washington's voodoo dollies. These little people of straw in their painted burlap pants and smeared makeup hung by a string on the side of Mrs. Washington's bedpost. Kim would tell creepy stories about who they were and what they were usually used for but told me that it was just a part of her mom's culture and that she never used them to endanger anyone's life, then she and erica would blast "Eternal Flame" and exchange their favorite barbie outfits. Funny, how life can be tied to one string, how fried plantains can bring you back to a place you have no real attachment to.. i can't remember if my father was transferred before the Washingtons. The base had undergone major renovation only to be destroyed four years later by the lava of Mount Pinatubo. I miss the fruit of that place with all my heart...i'll never remember the names but the tastes and smells fill me up on days when i am lost here, in america, my home 2:25 p.m. - 2001-10-24 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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