So I like to think that I am a foodie. Among other dishes, I do a wicked corn soup. So much so that my fellow foodies have nick-named me the VP of Corn Soup. What is corn soup you may ask? It is a refreshing soup that can be a meal. It is usually found outside of a fete or at a lime and was originally a Trinidadian and Guyanese thing. But we here in Barbados like to share and copy, so we now have corn soup.
Now my corn soup has in sweet potatoes, pumpkin, split peas, English potatoes, vegetables, in fact, everything plus cream corn, corn kernels and small pieces of corn on the cob. And importantly the bite-size pieces of pigtail and the pepper. In fact, if a piece of pepper does not get “lost way” in the soup something is wrong.
But more than just a great meal suitable for consumption after a period of drinking, corn soup for me signifies the women of my tribe. You take a number of ingredients that by themselves might or might not be healthy and good for you, put them together add some heat and you get a masterpiece. We in the Caribbean, specifically the women, are a diverse group of individuals with our own idiosyncrasies but when tossed together under pressure, we are resilient. “Necessity is the mother of invention” has always been one of our mottos. And although physically weaker than most of our male counterparts, we have shouldered burdens that they cannot begin to fathom.
For example, while sitting chatting with a male colleague recently I told him a few of my #lifeinleggings stories. He totally could not understand why I was self-conscious about compliments until I share some of those stories. After listening to me rant for a few I had to stop as his “flabber was totally gassed”, he could not wrap his brain around some of what I considered everyday events. Like how to walk the fine line between being seen as gracious when receiving a compliment or being seen as bitchy if you don’t respond in a manner that the person (read male) giving the compliment thinks is appropriate. Picture this …… you are walking from your car to your office and some random person shouts how nice you look in your outfit, you smile graciously and say thank you but keep walking. You are hailed as the best female in the area. Now picture the same scenario but this time you merely wave your hand and keep going but this time you are bombarded with negative comments “who she think she is?”, “Was just paying she a compliment to make she feel good” etc. Now you are persona non grata. Few men ever experience this situation. Few ever have to monitor where they spend their time, who they engage in conversation, which roads they travel daily, etc but we as women have to. This is our daily reality. We are very conscious that “ya betta don’t tek a six for a nine” In other words try very hard to understand your situation and “Do not misunderstand a person’s real intentions”
So we all develop and refine our tribe. That group of strong, confident women that are always there to watch over you. To tell you stop, check or re-think a position but most importantly to hold you down when needed because to be truthful no-one actually looks good in prison stripes and they DON’T HAVE WINE IN PRISON.
My tribe forms the ingredients for my corn soup; and when together, either physically or otherwise we cook up a fabulous corn soup for the soul. Because we need it.
See you somewhere around a corner or at a lime with a bowl of corn soup
Bajanbrownsugar
this is a good post