Ode to Evelyn

March 02, 2003
by Dr Winford James

Tobago buried Evelyn James, one of its beloved daughters, last Tuesday. Evelyn was felled on the job, at the Montgomery Government School, by 'a nice Guy' who had reportedly become crazed into murder by her involvement in a matter of sexual molestation reported to her by one of her female pupils. She went out asking innocently of her murderer, 'What did you stab me for?' In a vigorous and truly delightful life, she played primary school teacher, TTUTA activist, credit unionist and cooperator, Moravian Christian, mother to two daughters, among other roles. In the poem below, Robert Winston Dillon, mentor hers (and mine too), pays tribute to her life in rich Trinbagonian and Christian imagery.

Evelyn, Eve-Child, do you hear
Your Jesus-Adam
Calling you to His heavenly Eden?
Then listen to His voice
Hang deserving upon His words
While we with ears less harden
Will ourselves to be for children of Trinbago
Abrahams, Moseses
Elders to each other
And to our children-to-come.
In guidance that will sweeten their earth-salt
As they grow into Teacher-to-all
For Evelyn's sake.

Evelyn oh! Oh Evelyn!
You with the untiring voice
Gravelly like pebbles from Studley Park blue stone.
You suffered as the little ones came to you
Sent, beckoned or strayed
And you saw and accepted
Trusted their maker as merciful
And in humility
Moulded with touch and thought
Firm and loving.

Hail Tobago bottom-side child
You with them eyebrows
Bushy like Ole Man Beard
And eyes wide, big and rolling
Like Buccoo Bay bony red fish.
We-so can't ask you nothing bout death.
Because to the very end of your sudden, sudden life
You managed your rolling stream
Like a real Amerindian canoer
Brownies to guides, netball to athletes
Cricket by the way with plenty books.
Then following in father step
Teacher training College and TUTTAring
Guider of the young
Administrator of the ageable
In credit union cooperatively
Tempering the image of union militarist.

Ay Tob-African woman
I seeing you still
Afro in more than hairstyle
Mother to own-child
And dem chilvren
Humorous to all
To temper any thought
Of personal desolation, you sure
Friendly in meeting
But solid in solidarity
With fellow-teachers, congregation
Man and woman alike
Not friend-friend thing
(That was too petty for you)
But sou-sou-friendly
Not susu-susu
Talking your mind
But not from back behind.

But Evelyn, Eve-child
What about god-brother perpetrator?
Forgiving to the core
You'd be the last to consider him
A Judas to you in God-family
Wouldn't you?
What about him-as-child in this family tragedy?
Where you are, safe, safe
On that side looking back?
You wouldn want someone
To stand up before God and ask
'Why, which-part he went wrong?
Was it the sin of a past generation
Surfacing suddenly
Like woodants beneath the genetic skin
To claim another edifice
Of flesh and blood
Worse than he claimed your own?
Who must put a finger, Evelyn gyul
Oiled with olive or cocnut
To stem the damning
Secretion down to generations yet unborn?

Evelyn, daughter of Eve
From where you are
Pray that all of us
(for none is island or continent)
pray for all of us to accept your mantle
but to gird it like a loincloth
bouchet belly-brace
and then to embrace your
many-sided roles...
your giant-shoes are so large to fill...

Evelyn, daughter of Eve
Dry-dry so you live
Dry-dry so you gone
We en remaining silent.
We taking up where you left off.
Till we meet again....

Archives / Winford James Homepage / Previous Page

^^ Back to top

---