Skip to main content

A Poem - In Her Days .....


Hello All,

I would like to share a poem I wrote about my grandmother in honor of her life and the struggles she overcame to provide a better life for herself and her family. The decisions she made in her life not only affect her children but every generation that will come afterwards.

I feel very special to have known such a strong and loving woman and she will always have a very special place in my heart.

I hope you enjoy it.


Manuela’s Transition through Life and Time.

In her days, the colour of your skin was more important than language.
In her days, who you married was more important than love.
In her days, children were a requirement or obligation to carry on a bloodline.
In her day… woman was a tool of trade.

The families that lived here were not born here but came.
The families that came here took land and cultivated.
The families that came here sought to gain wealth through agriculture and industry.
She was a part of those families.

Her father was a plantation manager and gain stability through their union.
She became the owner’s son wife and destined to live the life of luxury.
But when her husband died many privileges vanished right before her eyes.
Her children we no longer to be her own.

Heartbroken… lost… not hope in sight.
Everyone turned their back on her… she was all alone.
A mirage was what she was to become as life continued around her.
But she would not bend… she was not a tool.

What they did not expect was her love for her children.
What they did not expect was the fight hidden within.
What they did not expect was the strength she had to move on.
She would not yield to their commands and lose those four that came from her womb.

Train… secretly running away….
Seeking the help of her family.
She sought to save her life and keep her children.
She was determined to be free.

Working in the fields was not a position for her.
Working in the factories was not a position for her.
Working in the lowest occupation was not a position for her.
She was white.

No one would accept her.
Her colour stood out and separated her from the rest.
Her language made her different.
Her struggle was hers to carry alone.

Forced to leave her children with those she thought would love them.
She could only hope they would treat them as their own.
Three were allowed to prepare for the changing world.
One, she learnt was not… how can she protect all?

Where can you go when all they see is colour?
What can you do when the pigmentation of your skin limited you?
How can you survive when you were living below your status?
She was a survivor.

She supervised in the industrial world.
She blended into the domesticated world.
She acquired assistant from people who understood her plight.
She gained… learned… and soon had all four back with her.


Manuela Carreira was not her real name.
The life she led was not what was expected of her.
She defied the colour of her skin and her station in life.
She was not a tool… she was my grandmother.

Now the trains stands still and the plantation fields are gone.
If it was not for her I might not been here, not anyone.
She fought to live her life and be free.
She fought to provide a future for them and for me.

Three generations now live because of her.
I want to be like her.
I will not be a tool.
Powerful, faithful and determined ...

FREE.

Comments

  1. This is a beautiful poem. Your grandmother would love it.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Family Traditions!!!!

If it is one thing I look forward to around this time is the Carreira's Christmas Tree Family Tradition! Founded by ME :) my sisters and my mom started visiting (or going house to house) homes to help decorate the Christmas Tree as well as decorate the home. When my son was not even a year old was when this tradition began... in my home in Port of Spain. Now 8 years later it has become a Family get together, food and drinks sharing .... and putting up the decorations. I LOVE it. Coming from a home with many siblings (3 brother and 3 sister ... most married with children) it is great when most gather and the house is filled with everyone. Lets just say it is a lot of laughs, bickering, laughs ... silent moments when our mouths are filled with food ... and then delegation on the work area. Did I mention I LOVE it. So here are some pics of the end result. My home is now filled with Christmas ... and I have to start wrapping present. :) This picture shows my mom, a...

Anticipating Grenada!

As most mothers and parents secretly wish, Getting away without the kids is usually hard to accomplish. But this weekend my husband and I eagerly await, A vacation in Grenada for 2, we were able to create!!!! I cannot wait for the clear blue sea, I cannot wait for it to be just him and me. I cannot wait for the sunny sky, To just lie on the beach and watch the day go by. I wish for all to be able to see, How important it is for the adults to be free. To take some time and enjoy just being together, Making sure they remember why they chose to be ... forever. My countdown for Grenada is on.... 3 days to go!!!

She called her 'Gan'

My mother when she was a little girl, was dressed in a crown of flowers, a new dress and shoes and went to throw petals at the feet of her grandmother at the Santa Rosa Festival in Trinidad. You see her grandmother was a Carib Queen and every year they celebrated this Catholic festival in Arima, Trindad. I have never experienced this and though the Carib bloodline is being passed on through me, there is not much I can say about my heritage. In jest I would tell other who ask what I am mixed with, I would say "my people were here first... we did not arrive by boat... we were natives." But I really do not know what that really means. I do not know how to live off the land. In fact I kill all plants and animals that enter my home. I should put a sign ... "Enter at your own risk!" But I do want to understand this particular part of my ancestry. Although I am mixed with Chinese, Spanish, Scottish and Protégées, I have always been curious of the one culture that was h...