In plenty and in time of need
When this fair land was young
Our brave forefathers sowed the seed
From which our pride is sprung
A pride that makes no wanton boast
Of what it has withstood
That binds our hearts from coast to coast
The pride of nationhood
NO, YOU HAVEN'T missed a thing. We've shifted the presentation of the ArtsEtc Independence Reading List to the top of the upcoming year instead of leaving it at the end of the previous one. So you're in the right place: this is the offering for 2021 moving into 2022. Or, more simply put, for the next twelve months.
To recap, the IndyList, as we like to call it, is a selection of 12 Barbadian books to make friends with over the coming year. This is its eleventh edition.
THE 23rd FRANK COLLYMORE LITERARY AWARDS were presented entirely virtually for the first time on February 14, 2021. Because of COVID-19 restrictions, the ceremony was aired via a live stream that used prerecorded readings by the winners in various locations across the island.
All of the winners were poets this year, with the Prime Minister’s Award going to a prose writer for a YA novel.
THEY ARE ADMIRING Baby that night everything changes. They are quietly claiming things about her to the soundtrack of Adan’s cooing—in deference to the mystery of her mother’s name. Lala claims Baby’s nose, the way the little legs turn gently inward at the knees before repelling each other, the elegant triple-jointed toes. Adan claims her long torso, the flat, broad bones beneath her face, the way her upper lip retreats when she smiles.
“Just like Penny,” says Adan. “Penny daughter self.”
BARBADOS' FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY celebrations come and gone and nobody ain’t say yuh cat, yuh dog, ’bout we. Sometimes yuh have to wonder if we is Bajan, too. Gabby had to tell Jack dat the beach belong to he, but it is time that we tell we story. These fields and skies ’bout here belong to we! We father get we here. We mother hatch we here. And here belongs to we.
A bunch of surfer dudes,
sun-bleached blonde and sun-browned,
inch their way across the rocky shore,
Soup Bowl bound,
tentative as firewalkers
treading unshod on red coals.
Then, with jaws firmly set,
breasts pressed to boards,
these knights of the sea
paddle fearlessly forward,
to face the fabled dragon waves,
whose lair is the Soup Bowl.