Hi Granny
I am writing this letter slow
Since I know you can’t read fast,
I am here in England; it’s cold
But I am having a blast.
I haven’t gone to school yet
Because I don’t know where to find one,
Everything gets lost up here
That is the English norm.
We saw the sun the other day
Up here it’s a UFO,
They had forgotten what it looked like
Since it doesn’t often show.
I experienced a little mishap
With the washing machine,
Having thrown in my shirt and pants
That’s the last of them I’ve seen.
I put in my shirt
And then I pulled on the chain,
I did the same with my pants
And I never saw them again.
Taking a bath is quite challenging
Because it is much too cold
So back to washing my face and hands
Just like in the days of old.
I boarded a bus just yesterday
And had to sit at the back,
As soon as I entered the driver said
The back is for the blacks.
The front seats apparently
Were all made for the white
And a black doesn’t get to sit in one
Whether it is morning, noon or night.
One would have thought that all that stuff
Had gone out with the flood,
Our complexion might be different
But we have the same colour blood.
I was watching Jessie Owens
When I was writing this poem,
Once you were born black
That was a crime back then.
But one black man by name of Jesse
Stood up against all Germany,
Four gold medals he won
They were dumbfounded at his ability.
Ability knows no colour
Ability knows no creed,
Jessie showed the whole world that
When they saw his superior speed.
But Granny
How did I get here?
I mean writing about all this,
Let me get back to my experiences
Even though I will shorten the list.
Tomorrow I will go out
And look for the school again,
Today I was looking for a black school
But down came the rain.
Everyone knows a bajan disappears
As soon as it begins to rain,
A fire we will run to if there is one
But rain for us is like pain.
I probably won’t find one
Since there are all painted white,
To find a black school around this place
You would have to search at night.
Perhaps I will change my mind
And look for work instead
But right now Granny, I’m feeling tired
And will soon be in my bed.
There’re not many whites around
The dwellings where I am,
Something tells me quite clearly
That this is a deliberate plan.
Just before I go off to sleep
I must tell you something more,
Please don’t be mad at me, Granny
Granny, please do not be sore.
I had meant to send to you
A crisp five-pound note
But when I remembered to put it in
I had already sealed the envelope.
I hope you will forgive me, Granny
I will remember the next time,
So until I write to you again
Love from you grandson, Glyne.
Stewart Russell © July 2018
