Tag Archives: Wadadli Pen 2011

Keepsake – Edison Arts Camp

Edison Liburd donated two scholarships to his summer arts camp to the Wadadli Pen prize package in 2011. Pictured are participants in the first installment of the camp including, front row centre, Freya Platts-Costeloe, second runner up in the Wadadli Pen 2011 visual art challenge. Freya shows enormous potential as an artist and we congratulate and encourage her.

photo courtesy Trip Antigua.

To see Freya’s Winning image go here. And, as Edison just reminded me the exhibition of work from the second installment of his camp takes place Friday 22nd July between 12 and 5 p.m. at his gallery upstairs the Best of Books.

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SANDS AND BUTTERFLIES BY DEVRA THOMAS

cover art by Hudle Jennings, winning entry in the visual arts category of the Wadadli Pen Challenge 2011.

“Mommy, how many sand on the beach?” Kyle asked from the back seat of the car.

I adjusted the rear view mirror to observe my six-year-old. The hat on her head did nothing to hide her uncombed hair and
curious expression.  “No se,” I responded in Spanish.

“Why?”

“There are too many to count, sweetheart.  So, are you ready for the beach?” I asked.

“Don’t forget to pick up Haley, mommy! She said she is going to help me count the sand.”

I thought to myself, this is going to be a long day.

Kyle is a free spirit with a wild imagination. I remembered the day her teacher called to let me know that Kyle brought her teddy bear to school and insisted that he get a desk and table right next to her.

“Mommy, daddy say you can’t drive.”

I smiled as I made a mental note to settle that score with Tom.

“He said you drive slow.”

“The word is slowly, Kyle.  Not slow.”

“Mommy, look cane!”  She pointed as we approached a stop with a vendor selling cane and coconut water.

“Two bags, please,” I shouted as we approached the vendor.  He smiled as he handed me the bags.

“Mommy, what happened to his teeth?” Kyle asked softly as we drove off.

I passed a cane to her without responding.  We spent the next few minutes of the drive in silence.

“We are coming close to Haley’s house, sweetheart.”

“Yeah,” she said with a smile, “Haley’s daddy said their road is a pond.  What is a pond, mommy?”

“Well, it’s just a body of water; almost like the beach.” I answered.

Haley lived on the way to the beach and as we entered her road I immediately understood why Haley’s dad said what he did. The road was filled with numerous potholes.

“Where is the pond?” Kyle asked as she looked all around her.

“Well,” I started uncertainly, “the pond is all dry right now because we haven’t had any rain for a while.”

She opened her mouth to respond but then saw Haley running towards the car.

“Kyle, you want to see my bath suit?” Haley said as she entered the car.

We drove away from the house as slowly as we approached it.  The car was filled with the excited chatter of two six-year-olds who could have easily passed for twins.  I was forgotten.

“We are here!” I said a few minutes later.

“Yeah!” they both shouted.

The small beach was filled with tourists and a few vendors selling souvenirs.

“Mommy,” Kyle whispered, “they are all white.”

I looked at her with understanding and decided to take the bull by the horn.  I led them back to the car.

“Kyle, remember those butterflies we saw in the garden yesterday?”

“Yes.” She answered.

“What colours were they?” I asked her.

“Yellow and blue and…” she said.

“Were they not all butterflies?” I interrupted her.

“Yes, mommy and they were pretty.”

“Well, we are like those butterflies Kyle.  We have many different colours but we are all God’s people and we are all beautiful!”

“Mommy, can we go out now?” They had heard enough.

“Let’s go count some sand,” I said.

“No, Mommy,” Kyle said as she held Haley’s hand and ran ahead of me, “we are going to count butterflies.”

But there are no butterflies here, I said to myself.

I laughed out loud as I heard her say: “one white, two white, one pink…”  I had to catch up fast.  It was time for another chat.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Sands and Butterflies, winner of the 18 to 35 category and overall winner in the Best of Books Wadadli Pen Challenge 2011, was written by Devra Thomas. The All Saints Road resident, formerly a bilingual client services associate at Stanford International Bank, says she now works “in the employ of my 18 month old daughter as ‘mommy-in-charge’.” She’s also been engaged in the past in youth work at St. Peter’s Anglican Church, the Boys Training School and the Sunshine Home for Girls; and has offered to assist with Wadadli Pen in future – we will be taking her up on that. A self-described passionate reader, Devra, says she favours stories with a moral: “I must finish my reading a bit wiser – with a sense of accomplishment and fulfillment.” She is a passionate writer whose writing, she says, reflects her Christian faith; and who is looking
forward to expanding beyond her personal writing to honing her skills and writing pieces that will inspire and educate the public, particularly youths.

Devra accepting the ABII trophy

With Sands and Butterflies, she and Wadadli Pen’s children’s lit challenge proved a match made in heaven.

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Copyright of the winning Wadadli Pen stories and/or art work featured on this site belongs to the creators of the individual works and are used here purely for promotional and educational purposes. Other blog content, except otherwise noted, is created and/or maintained by Joanne C. Hillhouse. Site content should not be copied, distributed, transmitted, used for commercial purposes, altered, transformed, or built upon without the consent of the copyright holders.

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THE LOST COIN BY ORIQUE GORDON

One sunny day, Mrs. Flinn was baking a cake, but she forgot that she didn’t have milk.  So, she went to get the amount of money needed.

There we were sitting on the shelf and all stuffed into her purse. As she ran to her car, I dropped out of the purse. She looked around on the ground for me but because the driveway was gray I was camouflaged.  Mrs. Flinn gave up the search and took off in
such a speed that I couldn’t roll up to her.

As I was rolling down the street as fast as I could, I rolled into the gutter. The gutter took me underground. The only light there
came through the cracks and holes. I found an exit but the gutter made me green. I washed myself off in a nearby puddle.
Soon I was clean and not green.

I was picked up by a dog.  As I was being carried, the dog’s slobber made me slip out. Then a bird picked me up, but luckily some more slobber was on me, so I slipped out of its claws.

illustration by SA Dixon, an entry in the visual arts category of the 2011 Wadadli Pen Challenge.

Next I fell into a yard with two boys.  I was getting worried that I would never get to my owner again.

When I looked up, I saw that the two boys were sling shooting things.

The two boys grabbed me and sling shot me over the fence into my owner’s head.  I was so happy to see her.

So, she hurried back to the store, and then handed me to the cashier with three other coins.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Orique Sean Gordon was born on Saturday 14th August, 1999 and lives at Bank Alley, St. John’s, Antigua. His parents are Sean  and Dionne Gordon and his sister is Zanique Gordon who is 5 years  old.  He attended  the Beacon Light Academy and now goes to Minoah Magnet Academy.  Orique’s hobbies are playing  football and his games, watching TV and writing stories.  His life’s goal is to be either a pilot, archeologist or a veterinarian working in Africa and Australia.

Could Orique also be a writer? Maybe. His story was popular with the judges earning him both the win in the 12 and Under age category and a tie for second place overall in the Wadadli Pen 2011 challenge.

COPYRIGHT INFORMATION & TERMS OF USE
Copyright of the winning Wadadli Pen stories and/or art work featured on this site belongs to the creators of the individual works and are used here purely for promotional and educational purposes. Other blog content, except otherwise noted, is created and/or maintained by Joanne C. Hillhouse. Site content should not be copied, distributed, transmitted, used for commercial purposes, altered, transformed, or built upon without the consent of the copyright holders.

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FINALISTS – WADADLI PEN CHALLENGE 2011 (VISUAL ARTS)

Hudle Jennings is the winner of the 2011 Wadadli Pen visual arts challenge. She also scored the second spot with the third spot going to eight-year-old Freya Platts-Costeloe.

The challenge was to create supporting art for the short listed stories in the 2011 competition – the idea of illustrations seemed a
good fit given that we’re focused this year on children’s, teen and young adult literature. Art teacher, Renee Philip created the guidelines, which challenged the artists to, among other things, create illustrations that “reflect at least the theme or a specific passage from the stories.” Artists had to pre-register; each was then issued at least two of the stories and charged to go forth and
create. The already small field of registered artists dwindled, but we still got some interesting submissions out of it.

Jennings’ cover art for Devra Thomas’ Sands and Butterflies
most impressed, followed by her cover art for Shakeema Edwards’ The Curse of the Kumina:  Jennings describes her art as ‘computerized collage’.  A graduate of the CTTEC Microsoft Certification Center, she is an aspiring graphic artist who currently works as a customer service representative in the banking industry.

Freya Platts-Costeloe is a third grader at Island Academy and one third of a triplet for her parents.
Her mom, Nettie, informs us that she is a very enthusiastic young artist who is passionate about drawing and painting
in all mediums and on any surface from stones found on the beach to leaves found in the rain forests. “She pays an incredible amount of attention to detail and was thrilled at the prospect of illustrating a short story,” Nettie said. No surprise then that Freya submitted three pencil drawings – the most submissions of any registered artist.
Two were for Zuri Holder’s The Scary Night, one in particular impressing with itsattention to detail and the way it captured the atmosphere of the story:

Congrats to both Hudle and Freya. The art pictured here – as well as other submitted art have also been posted with the stories they’re designed to complement.

COPYRIGHT INFORMATION & TERMS OF USE
Copyright of the winning Wadadli Pen stories and/or art work featured on this site belongs to the creators of the individual works and are used here purely for promotional and educational purposes. Other blog content, except otherwise noted, is created and/or maintained by Joanne C. Hillhouse. Site content should not be copied, distributed, transmitted, used for commercial purposes, altered, transformed, or built upon without the consent of the copyright holders.

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THE CURSE OF THE KUMINA BY SHAKEEMA EDWARDS

cover art by Hudle Jennings, second placed in the Wadadli Pen 2011 art challenge.

It wasn’t so long ago that I was condemning Eve with the rest of my Sunday school class: she was a sinner, she had wilfully
defied God and she deserved to be punished. However, it wasn’t so long ago either that I had tasted my first real bite of temptation.

In many ways it was all my granny’s fault, she was the instigator; she knew the type of child I was, curious to a fault, yet
she let it slip on afternoon on our way from the market that I was never to enter Mother Kumina’s yard.

“And why not?” I asked with hands on hips, eyes rolling back, and defiance etched into my face.

“If you want the curse of the Kumina child go right ahead,” Granny replied.

“Curse! Please, I don’t believe in no curse! It’s mango season and you’re telling me I can’t pick mango because of a curse?”

“Girl, nobody say you can’t pick mango. You can pick mango from every tree in the village but not from Mother Kumina tree.”

Why did she have to say that? Once I heard Granny’s words I realized that I had tasted the sweet, the sour, the bitter,
and the rotten fruit of every mango tree in the area except that of Mother Kumina’s tree. Instantly, my curiosity stood up and began an incessant screaming. She would not be satisfied; all food lost its flavour, all mangoes were sour, and every drop of water evaporated on my tongue. My curiosity and I would not rest without a taste of that forbidden fruit.

Thus, four hours after my granny’s warning I climbed over Mother Kumina’s fence and slithered up her mango tree like a
fugitive lizard. As I was sitting on a thick branch wondering which plump treasure to seize first I suddenly heard the disconcerting sound of grass being trampled. I looked towards the source of the sound and my sight was accosted by three large pit-bulls coming my way.

There was no time to think. Hastily, I grabbed a single mango and jumped out of the tree; skinning my right knee as I hit the
ground. Without looking back I made a run for the fence and slithered over it with even more speed than I had the first time.

I was basking in my triumph for all of two seconds when the first pit-bull burst through a hole in the fence.

 “Oh Father!” I yelled as they chased me down Pineapple Avenue, up Orange Lane, and across Cocoplum Drive. They were relentless and they chased me all the way to Old Maggie’s pasture. Both of my Bata slippers burst during the chase; cassie pierced me in my unshod feet, I splashed myself with dirty water as I ran through pothole after pothole trying to escape, still the dogs ran on, and all the while I clutched my conquest firmly in my left hand.

After circling the village almost two times I was able to lose my pursuers and ran home as quickly as I could.

“Curse, schmursh!” I cackled as I looked at the orange-red mango in my hand. With a cursory wipe on my tank top, I skinned
it with my teeth and took a great bite out of the fruit. It was the sweetest mango that ever was; even though it griped my belly for an entire week, and every mango I have had since has tasted like ash, I’ll never regret taking that mango from Mother Kumina’s tree.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

The Curse of the Kumina was written by Shakeema Edwards. Born in 1993, she began reading at age three and quickly developed an aptitude for English and Literature. She started writing poems and short stories for friends and family at age eight. But it wasn’t until 2008 that she started entering literary competitions. That year, she won the Women of Antigua V-Day essay contest and the Best of Books/Joanne C. Hillhouse Next Chapter contest for the book Dancing Nude in the Moonlight, winning both. The former Antigua Girls High School and current Antigua State College student has also fared well in the Antigua and Barbuda Independence Literary Arts Competition, earning a spot in a weekend writers retreat specifically for young writers who distinguished themselves in that competition.  Inspired by ‘Classical’ novelists such as Jane Austen and Elizabeth Gaskell, whose works have withstood all tests of time, Shakeema aspires to see her own name (or a creative pseudonym) etched into the spine of a novel that will change generations of people.

She’s off to a good start with her wins in the 13 to 17 age category in the 2010 Wadadli Pen contest and second place spot in both the 13 to 17 age category and the
overall competition in 2011.

COPYRIGHT INFORMATION & TERMS OF USE
Copyright of the winning Wadadli Pen stories and/or art work featured on this site belongs to the creators of the individual works and are used here purely for promotional and educational purposes. Other blog content, except otherwise noted, is created and/or maintained by Joanne C. Hillhouse. Site content should not be copied, distributed, transmitted, used for commercial purposes, altered, transformed, or built upon without the consent of the copyright holders.

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THE LEGEND OF BANANA BOY BY CHATRISSE BEAZER

Now this is a story passed down for many generations. All Caribbean children know or should know the story of Banana Boy. Parents used this legend to show their children that they should always stand strong in the face of trouble, but, as generations went by, modern parents stopped sharing the story with their children because they felt that it did not make any sense. However, this
grandmother thinks it her duty to tell her grandchildren the story…

“Hey! Why all this noise inside da house nuh?” she said, exasperated. “Lack off that loud radio, Johnny! Yes! That’s what I said. Sean and Shari, you waiting on me to tell you come off too? Keisha turn off the T.V right now.”

“But Grandma, the best episode of Hannah Montanna coming on now,” Keisha complained.

“You want a real story? Come sit down with me on the floor right here,” Grandma said. They all went and sat down by her rather reluctantly.

“Now let me tell you a real story, not no Hannah Montana or any of dat mumbo-jumbo,” she snorted with a disgusted face. “I’m going to tell you a legendary story, a heroic story, a fantastic story passed down for many, many generations,” she whispered.

“What is it? What is it Grandma!” The children exclaimed in excited voices.

“The Legend of Banana Boy!”

“Oh Grandma!” the children laughed. They were rolling on the ground holding their sides.  Johnny even had some tears in his eyes.

“But a what is dis? Is joke you think ah joking? No my children, it’s a real serious thing,” she declared with a deadly serious face.

The children stopped laughing when they heard her tone of voice.

“Tell us the story Grandma,” Sean said in a hoarse whisper.

“Well listen up real good,” she said holding back an amused smile.

Now it was back at that time when things were hard in Antigua. One Miss Nallie had eight children. Four boys and four girls: Latisha, Latoya, Lamira, Lamara, Dejon, Damon, D’Sean and Damar. All of them were either young adults or teenagers except little Damar who was four years old and five years apart from the second last child. Now Damar had always been different. For one
thing, he always walked around with a banana in his hand. Miss Nallie could never understand it but after a while she just accepted it saying “At least it good for him”. Damar always tried to be noticed by his sisters but the most he would get was a pat on the head. His brothers just brushed him aside as if they didn’t have any time for him. For it was back in those times when children had
to work hard running errands, doing field work or doing housework to get a little money to help the family out. Poor little Damar, nobody had the time to notice him during the day.

However he always looked forward to night time when his mama would tell him an exciting story out of her head before she sent him off to sleep. How he wished that he could be like those brave, superhero boys in his mother’s stories but little did he know that his actions would make him just like one of them.

As soon as Damar turned five, Miss Nallie sent him to the village school. Feeble Damar wasn’t sure he wanted to go to village school.

“Who will be my friend?” he wondered as he walked cautiously to school, gripping a banana in his hand.

Damar was a very lonely child at school. He certainly didn’t know how to make friends with the new faces around him. By the second week, most children called him “Banana Boy” and never bothered to find out his real name just because of his love for bananas.  So he was very surprised when a girl by the name of Natasha spoke to him.

“Hi, what’s your name? You always by yuhself,” she said with a big smile.

“Damar,” he said softly.

“Why you talk so soft ah?” she said again and laughed.

He decided that the safest thing to do was to laugh as well.

“Is how come you always have a banana?” She asked and pointed at the banana in his right hand.

“Is how come you ask so much question?” Damar said.They both laughed.

“Bananas are my favorite,” he said to her as they walked back to class.

From then on Natasha was the only friend Damar had but she was his best friend. The two soon became inseparable and they always stood up for each other no matter what. Natasha and Damar were not very popular especially with the taller boys. Both of them were short but they always managed to wriggle themselves out of tight situations with the “baddest bully” Duffman. He threatened that he would get even with them the next time. Damar and Natasha would normally run away laughing without a care in the world. However, they did not know that the next time would stay forever in their minds.

This turned out to be a few days later. It was lunchtime and Damar and Natasha were playing catch-a-man, freeze-a-man and all the games they could remember. Their classmates were excitedly engaged in the game dodge ball. Everyone
was enjoying the games when they heard the heavy footsteps of the 6 foot Duffman coming towards them. Duffman had set out to pick a person for bullying for the afternoon.

“Children like peas,” Grandma said in an excited voice. “Nearly all of his class was running in every direction, as fast as they could.

“Let’s go!” Damar shouted as he grabbed Natasha’s hand and ran. The sound of pounding footsteps around him sounded just like his heart at that moment. As Duffman raged about, he suddenly spotted Damar. He remembered the
pathetic Banana Boy that dared to laugh at him.

“Hmph, think he can laugh at me. Ah go fix him,” he said to himself.

Duffman pounded after Damar and Natasha with great speed. At that moment, with Duffman right behind him, Damar tripped and fell over a stone.

“What happen next Grandma?” Johnny said urgently as Grandma paused for a bit.

Johnny’s mother said from the hall, “I can’t believe you’re actually telling them that foolish story. I think…”

“SHHHH!” the children said in unison.

Grandma smiled, “Now where was I, oh yes…”

Before Damar could scramble to his feet, Duffman lifted him in the air by his collar and said, with a harsh laugh, “You think you cyan say no to the Duffman and get way wid it likkle boy?”

“Put him down! NOW!” Natasha screamed from down below kicking and hitting Duffman with her small fists. By this time everyone had stopped running and was watching the scary scene. Damar tried his hardest to think of a way out but he was too scared to think straight. Then something happened that erased all fear within him. Duffman more annoyed than hurt by Natasha’s constant beatings, kicked out and sent Natasha flying across the field. There was an audible gasp than rippled through the onlooking crowd.

At that moment Damar, who was dangerously angry felt a surge of electricity run through his body. Then his little muscles grew and filled up the space in his once big uniform. He then delivered a hard punch to Duffman’s nose. Duffman reeled back at the impact and dropped Damar to the ground. As Duffman got back on his feet Damar gave him one last blow to the stomach that
sent the bully tumbling to the ground.

A cheer went up from the crowd when they came out of shock, when they realised what happened. Damar watched his arms go back down in total amazement. Natasha came running up to him with a smile on her face.

“Is a good you eat so much banana,” she said.

“How you know is dat?” he asked, shaking his head at her. He thought she was just being the regular know-it all Natasha.

“Because look,” she said, pointing to his right arm. There, imprinted on his arm was the picture of a small banana.

“Banana Boy! Banana Boy!” the schoolchildren chanted as they surrounded Damar.

“From then on, no one ever took advantage of Damar or Natasha. And Duffman certainly never bullied anyone again,” Grandma said.

“Yayy! Banana Boy!” the children shouted and danced around their Grandmother.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

The Legend of Banana Boy was written by 16-year-old Chatrisse Beazer, adjudged top pick in her age category – 13 to 17. The New Winthorpes resident is a Wadadli Pen regular having twice won honourable mention in the 12 and under age category, 2005 and 2006 for A Scary Night and The Rescue, respectively. The fifth form Princess Margaret School student says reading has
always been her favourite hobby and that she has developed a love for writing as well. When this year’s competition was announced, she was a bit reluctant to enter because she was not accustomed to the theme presented, however, after encouragement from her mother, she wrote of The Legend of the Banana Boy.

@ the awards

Good thing too, considering that in addition to winning 13 to 17, she was also selected as the third placed writer overall in the 2011 Wadadli Pen Challenge.

 

 

 

 

COPYRIGHT INFORMATION & TERMS OF USE
Copyright of the winning Wadadli Pen stories and/or art work featured on this site belongs to the creators of the individual works and are used here purely for promotional and educational purposes. Other blog content, except otherwise noted, is created and/or maintained by Joanne C. Hillhouse. Site content should not be copied, distributed, transmitted, used for commercial purposes, altered, transformed, or built upon without the consent of the copyright holders.

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MARKET DAY BY LATISHA WALKER JACOBS

Sitting up and chatting the night before, my twin and I couldn’t wait for morning; we were too excited about going to the market with Mama.

As dawn broke, we were ready for market day.  Mama called each neighbour as we walked from the house down Baldwin Street saying, “Good morning, wa a do?”  We called, Ms. Spence; Ms.  Gladis;  Ms. Nancy and Ms. Jane;  Ms. Peters and Ms. Angela, too, saying, “Good morning, wa a do?”

Mama talked with each neighbour for what seemed like forever and we thought she would never take us to the market.

Finally, we passed Ryan’s Plumbing, chatting, giggling happily and whispering to ourselves,” Mama can chat see!”  The walk was brief and Market Street soon appeared. The farmers and vendors were sitting on the pavement and parked along the side walk selling their goods.

Mama said, “Look Uncle Kenneth by the big Iron Gate.”  The Iron Gate was like a merry go round. Instantly we started playing, round- and- round we go until Mama called us.  Uncle Kenneth had a little white jeep stacked neatly with vegetables piled sky high with pawpaw, carrots, cabbage, butternuts and sweet potatoes with a big red scale nearby.   We moved closer to the jeep, and could see his wide grin; smiling, we hoped he had some goodies for us.

As we walked through the market we saw many colours, shades of green and yellow, blue, orange, red, brown and grey, piles and Old Road, while collecting her weekly supply of sweet potatoes. Mama said “Aunt Missy, them two yah for Margaret,” and she instantly came to inspect us.  “Eh, eh, look how them big no!  come tek some mango fu eat,” she said.

submission by S A Dixon to the visual arts category of the Wadadli Pen 2011 Challenge.

Our eyes were bright as she gave us two handfuls of kidney mangos and we couldn’t wait to eat them.

Mama then took us to buy cassie, okras, spinach, yams, and green figs; she got us stinking toes, custard apples and two heaps of cherries. We crossed the street to the fish market and Mama showed us snappers, sting rays, sharks, doctor fish, and baskets of crabs and lobsters. The crabs were crawling in the basket and although Mama made sure to tell to tell us not to touch them, we moved our hands closer and Mama was just in time to pull us back before we pushed our wiggling fingers in. We both laughed.

Mama left us with Uncle Kenneth, to finish her shopping. We watched as he sold provisions placing each rusty weight on the big red scale. One customer asked for two pounds of carrots, and uncle placed them on the scale saying; “Me go throw on two mo fu you, arh right.”   We stayed with Uncle Kenneth until noon and he took us for snacks by Mama Tiny, she sold by Cammy’s clothing store.

Her big shiny silver pot was steaming with hot rice pudding, head skin and maw. We got tamarind balls and coconut snow cones topped with sweet milk from the corner shop. With food in hand, we skipped to a nearby block to sit and eat, yummy!

Mama soon returned and Uncle Kenneth helped put the big brown paper bag on her head, like a crown it fit perfectly.  We waved
goodbye to Uncle Kenneth and as we walked home across East Street we talked about all the things we saw on our visit to market.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Market Day, awarded third place in the 18 to 35 age category of the 2011 Wadadli Pen Challenge, was written by Latisha Jacobs. Jacobs, who spent most of her childhood in Ottos New Town living in an extended family, says she loves to write poetry and is very
passionate about literature.  She aspires to publish her poetry series Mouth Open Tory Jump Out.  She is an employee of the Antigua and Barbuda Port Authority.

COPYRIGHT INFORMATION & TERMS OF USE
Copyright of the winning Wadadli Pen stories and/or art work featured on this site belongs to the creators of the individual works and are used here purely for promotional and educational purposes. Other blog content, except otherwise noted, is created and/or maintained by Joanne C. Hillhouse. Site content should not be copied, distributed, transmitted, used for commercial purposes, altered, transformed, or built upon without the consent of the copyright holders.

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PRE SCHOOL DAYS BY ARDIS LAVELLE

I ran across the classroom,

everyone’s eyelids hiding wild playful dreams.

Everyone but me that is!

My teachers call and run after me,

and I think it’s a game.

I imagine I am in a cane field,

playing with the children of course.

A sudden rough touch ended my fantasy,

and sadly brought me back to reality.

Naptime,

Naptime, sigh.

It’s every child’s favourite time of day,

all but one!

I love the adventure, the thrill of the wind in my hair.

I’m not mischievous,

just a little playful.

Not troublesome,

but very adventurous .

A pirate upon the open seas,

might be the adventure tomorrow.

Maybe a ballerina, or singer on a big stage,

singing a song with Dora for mommy and daddy.

Oh! Snack time! My favourite time of day.

Bananas, apples, gummy worms,

wash my hands then back to play.

Home, sweet home,

greeted with a mother’s smile.

Sweet big sister, with gentle eyes,

ok, maybe sometimes she’s not  very nice.

Country life, with chicken and pigs,

corn, sweet potato
and my favourite cane.

It’s fun being a two year old,

no homework or chores.

Just naps, food and fun,

in the Antigua sun.

Wow! It’s hot, as I start a new day,

of mischief and excitement of my preschool days.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

at the 2011 awards ceremony

Seventeen year old Ardis Lavelle is an Antigua State College student. She’s third placed in the 13 to 17 age category (literary arts) 2011, the same year she also made the finals of the Antigua Sailing Week art competition.

COPYRIGHT INFORMATION & TERMS OF USE
Copyright of the winning Wadadli Pen stories and/or art work featured on this site belongs to the creators of the individual works and are used here purely for promotional and educational purposes. Other blog content, except otherwise noted, is created and/or maintained by Joanne C. Hillhouse. Site content should not be copied, distributed, transmitted, used for commercial purposes, altered, transformed, or built upon without the consent of the copyright holders.

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THE SCARY NIGHT BY ZURI HOLDER

It was a dark and windy night in Willikies with flashes of lightning, booms of thunder and the smell of rain in the air when Zuri and Joshua were riding their bikes as fast as they could to get home. They could not see anyone else on the road but every time the lightning flashed they saw things jumping out from the bushes and when the thunder boomed they heard weird laughter and screams coming from the old empty houses along the road.  Zuri and Joshua were very scared.

illustration by Freya Platts-Costeloe, third placed in the Wadadli Pen 2011 art challenge.

Suddenly the rain came down and they had to take shelter in the nearest old house. It was dark inside and they thought they could hear things running around. Then, they heard a weird voice asking “who are you
and what are you doing in my house?’’ followed by a boom of thunder and a bright flash of lightning. Zuri and Joshua jumped and held each other.

“Who are you?’’ Joshua, who is always the braver one, asked in a frightened voice. The voice replied, “I am your worst nightmare…..I am the Willkie’s Jumbie and no one comes into my house and escapes.”

Zuri got his voice and said, “But it is raining and we only want to shelter.”

“I don’t care!’’ said the Jumbie, which started to sing ‘’Two likkle boy fuh de jumbie jamboree, no one come in my house and get away.’’

Joshua pleaded in a frightened voice ’’ please don’t keep us here.”

The Jumbie laughed ‘’ha ha ha ha ha ha ha you should not come into my house.’’

Joshua and Zuri were more scared now. ‘’Please don’t keep us here,’’ Joshua begged again but the jumbie only laughed and started to sing again ‘’Two likkle boy fuh de jumbie jamboree.”

Just then the rain, the thunder and the lightning stopped and the moon came out. The jumbie got quiet. Zuri whispered to Joshua ‘’let’s get out of here”.

“But how?’’ asked Joshua. Then Zuri remembered Grandma telling them that when you are running away from a Jumbie you should throw salt over your shoulder because the Jumbie would stop to count the grains. But they had no salt; then he also remembered that if you leave your shoes in a Jumbie’s way it would try to put them on to follow you and this would take all night because Jumbies don’t have any feet.

“Take off your shoes quietly and leave them,’’ Zuri told Joshua.

‘’Why?’’ asked Joshua.

“Never mind, just take them off and don’t make no noise,” whispered Zuri. They took their shoes off and moved quietly towards the door.

Just then, the Jumbie started singing again “Two likkle boy fuh de jumbie jamboree”. That’s when Zuri and Joshua grabbed at their bikes but the bikes fell making a loud racket causing the Jumbie to shout “Hey! Where are you going?”

“We are going home,” said Joshua.                                                                                                           

 “You can’t leave,” said the Jumbie.

“But that’s what we are doing now,” said Zuri as they picked their bikes up and jumped on.

The Jumbie shouted “Stop! Stop!”  and rushed towards the door but as soon as it saw the shoes it stopped and whispered “oh, shoes! and so pretty” and  immediately  tried putting them on. Meanwhile Zuri and Joshua were riding as fast as they could to reach home but they could still hear the Jumbie back at the house screaming and struggling trying to put the shoes on.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Zuri Holder is a 10 year old grade 5 student at The Sunnyside Tutorial School. He enjoys playing cricket, football, the computer game Cricket Captain, and the board games Snakes and Ladders and Sorry. He also enjoys reading, especially Caribbean stories and the Adventures of TinTin.  Zuri is a member of his school’s pan side and a drummer with The Antigua Dance Academy.

Zuri’s imagination has opened the door for him to the second place spot in the 12 and Under Category of the Best of Books Wadadli Pen Challenge 2011.

 

 
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Filed under Wadadli Pen 2011