The White Man’s Dollar

A friend of mine shared this piece with me sometime last week. It was intriguing to say the least and I pondered for a few days whether or not I should post on my blog. I tracked down the writer of this piece to seek permission to have this piece posted on my blog. Though they consented it was asked that their identity be kept secret. As such I am inclined to obliged and present to you

The White Man’s Dollar

I stand before you today to speak to you on the topic, ‘ The white man’s dollar’. It is not that I am prejudiced or racist in anyway but it is the white man who brings in the most revenue into my little Antigua. It was the same white man who held us in bondage and had us work to make him rich. It is the same white man whom we now work to attract back to us so that we can now make ourselves rich. The world has gone full circle but the white man still remains on top.

But it doesn’t end there. The same white man brings with him not only his dollar but also his whitewashed morals and culture. We’ve adopted his ways in every aspect of life. We have lost our spiritual equilibrium and reversed our values. We have exploited the poor and called it the lottery. We have rewarded laziness and called it welfare. We have killed our unborn and called it choice. We have shot abortionists and called it justifiable. We have neglected to discipline our children and called it building self-esteem.

We have abused power and called it politics. We have coveted our neighbor's possessions and called it ambition. We have polluted the air with profanity and pornography and called it freedom of expression. We have ridiculed the time-honored values of our forefathers and called it enlightenment. At what price? The white man’s dollar.

What makes us think that to attract him here that we must become like him? This sort of thinking must stop before we loose ourselves. He doesn’t seek the same environment in which he left but instead he seeks peace from his turmoil, and the life void of morals that he left behind. He wants to come here and come first in contact with congeniality and hospitality because he knows that back home manners is something spoken of but not actually done. He wants to eat good wholesome food. Not the fake food he left behind which gave him his ulcers and his weight. He seeks the simple pleasures of nature. He wants to enjoy himself by the beach or on a nature walk not to be plagued by the cable TV blaring in his room or the rap music we might think to play in our restaurants. He wants to dance to the sweet sound of soca and reggae.

His wants don’t end there. He wants a unified people not a nation divided. He wants to see our community spirit alive and well. He wants to see a clean Antigua and Barbuda, not one with garbage-cluttered streets and foul smelling gutters. He wants to remember that animals exist outside of the supermarket, but not at the price of running a goat over on the highway. He doesn’t mind the potholes on the streets because he knows that where he comes from a huge chunk of his income must to go the preservation and building of roads. He doesn’t mind the street cricket that the children find to play; he might just stop, watch and even keep score. He wants to see the Caribbean not completely untouched by civilization but not swallowed up by it either. Can we indulge the white man in his simple fantasies? I think so.

Can we pull together and give him a good time when he comes. Can we show him a good celebration when carnival time comes around? Can we show him what clean fun is all about? Can we offer him fruit that hasn’t been blown up by hormones? Can we show him clean streets, unpolluted air and crystal clear waterways? Let him regret having putting our forefathers through slavery. Let us forgive him and take his money. Let us not overcharge but take his money with a smile. The world has indeed gone full circle. We the black people have come up with a way of getting our revenge without him knowing. We call it Tourism.

Brief Moments of Insanity

So being that I had not written for a while. I was more than surprised when this poem literally jumped out of me a few moments ago. For those of you who write regularly you know what is like not to be inspired. We all hit that low spot one day or another. for some it can go on for months and years at end lending credence to the term "starving writer". Thankfully its not my main career but just a labour of love and as you will read in the word to follow, Love and I have our issues. Its a bit raw and sporadic but its my love and I love it.


This is not a ballad of a broken heart but the ballad of an open heart. A heart hoping to open the doors of love hoping to find you standing on the other side with the other half of my love. Cause if love had love, love would know that I'm in need of love. The kind of love that makes me bleed for love, the love that can't feed my love unless its me and you that's dying for love. Day in day out pining for love, spend time in the line on a Friday Payday waiting to withdraw some love. Writing blank cheques on the line of credit for love. Swiping love back and forth hoping they don't decline my love. Standing in the same spot twice hoping to catch a glimpse of your love. Saying the wrong things so you can correct my love. Working 8 hour weeks and 40 hour days just to afford your love. Staying up late at night so I don't have to dream of love. Cause if love only comes in my sleep then don't wake me up love cause I'll be sleeping next to you my love. And that's the kind of love that love gets when it loves me.

Brief moments of Insanity by Shawn Nastrodamus Maile