By Glynis Salmon, Contributor
Cultural icon Miss Lou.
WHAT A joy! What a niceness! What a 'Ring-Ding' an palam-pam! when our dearest an' most boonoonoonoos Miss Lou come to visit. See ya people, mi heart swell with pride and me glad-bag jus lef fi bus with nuff excitement an happiness when Miss Lou come back a yard. Cause I love her you see. A love her, love her cyaan done.
An the reason why me love Miss Lou, you know, is not just because she give us a sense of ourselves in our language; is not just because she had the confidence to be as audacious and as bodacious as she pleases, to represent us with our culture in high-places and so-called 'low-places'; in hallowed halls of academia, and in zinc-roof schoolroom; to dignitaries and indignant 'Queen's English' protectors; in poetry, in prose and in song.
WHY MI LOVE HAR SO
No, is not just for all those reasons why me love Miss Lou, is for a whole heapa other reasons, like how the lady is just comfortable with herself. I remember when I was growing up, you know, and the weight of all the cornmeal pudden, coconut drops, asham, bammy and pear, and other Jamaican food niceties began to create a spread on my hips and fill out my cheeks rather roundly, I would often hear somebody utter cautiously, or in amusement, "You gwaan, yuh see, one of these fine days yuh gwine look like Miss Lou." Well see yah, I would just cut my eye, or just kiss my teeth in disgust and disdain at the suggestion. For to my mind, there was no way I could get as big as Miss Lou, who was, at the time, a big public figure and the biggest person I knew.
When in much later years, the pounds piled on and refused to budge, I used to sit and sigh and resign myself to what I thought was really to be my sad, fat, fate... looking like Miss Lou. In fact, I found myself as my body ripened into full plumpness, favouring the style of dress, complete with African-style Kaftans and headwraps, and assuming a kind of theatricality about my person, in a pseudo-attempt to be like Miss Lou.
LOOKING LIKE HER
But even though I was born and bred in rural Jamaica, the mastery and fluidity of the Jamaican patois did not sit as well, nor was I raised to become as comfortable with Jamaican 'labrishability', as Miss Lou. For in my social upbringing and education, I was quite 'Hamptonised' and my speech sterilised of almost all sense of good an proper Jamaica talk.
So my dear friends, over the years, it would appear that in form and feature, face and limb, I grew so much to look like Miss Lou (around the body-line at least, if not the face), and from all reports, it would appear that I had even cultivated the distinctive and distinguished Miss Lou personality. But while size-wise, the body was quite prepared to falla-back-a Miss Lou, the spirit of Miss Lou was left far behind.
For try as I might, I could not quite capture Miss Lou's remarkable sense of self. The comfortableness within and with herself. The can't-bother-with-foolishness-like-dieting-and-slim-physiquing. The absolute pride in being happy and joyous all the time, even if it's just to 'tek kin teet kibba heart bun'. Miss Lou just seemed always to rejoice in life and living. Taking all that the good Lord blessed her with; utilising all the opportunities to the best possible advantage that came her way; cultivating all the best qualities that she was privileged to have been exposed to; and stirred them all together to develop in one truly boonoonoonoos lady.
Oh wish, I were twice as big as Miss Lou and half as beautiful, accomplished and loved. Diet and slimness be damned, if in the process to achieve same, we lose ourselves and the joy of living. I love you, you hear Miss Lou. Walk good chile, an may good duppy follow you. One love. Love God, love yourself, love others, be happy. PEACE.
Glynis Salmon is a publishing executive and
communications specialist. E-mail: thebigescape@yahoo.com
