Bun and Cheesus: A Jamaican Easter

It’s that time of year again: midterm holidays, gone to country (be back soon), step into church for the first time since New Year’s, watch Passion of the Christ and chow down on some good old Easter bun and cheese.

Jamaicans have never been able to separate food from celebrations. Weddings – curry goat. Funerals – endless manish water. Christmas – ham and fruit cake. Easter – bun and cheese. It’s the simplest equation.

So whether you are trapped without WhatsApp in some back-a-bush family home, watching Passion of the Christ on your HD TV with Mom and Dad and popcorn, or dutifully attending church to get closer to your Lord and Saviour, I hope you have the happiest Easter and the nuffest bun and cheese.

Image not my own.

For Jamaicans abroad, don’t worry. Any bun and cheese is Easter bun and cheese. Even hot cross buns.

Shalom.

I now really want a picture of the Christ eating bun and cheese. Best Easter photo mashup EVER.

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It’s that time again

In exams our lives get reduced to bite-sized segments.

We slow to 5 minute crawls, pivot on a handful of marks then stretch to 60 minute sprints of alphabetized glory. We live and die on the sound of the bell; we cliff-climb without supports, swinging frantically from question to answer to question. Hesitation is death. But is that not our calling?

Image not my own.

What rhymes with passion?

Book stores are wonderful, inspiring places. And theatres. Dark theatres filled with audiences and the promise of a good show.

Idk, I got it from Google

Book stores filled with undiscovered worlds, rows and rows of them, just waiting to be opened. There is beauty there, in the shadows and the alcoves and the corners.

Clothing stores are disheartening, a balloon that floats away. Soggy cereal. Lukewarm tea. The beauty is skin deep, tied up in cotton blends and washable colours. Beauty that bleeds and runs. Beauty that bleaches if you leave it in the sun too long.

A book left in the sun too long will spark. The words will catch fire, sear your soul.

Idk, I got it from Google

But don’t be silly. A theatre will never be left in the sun too long.

QUILT, UWI Mona

Study break, with illustration.

This is a depiction of an amputation in Britain in the 18th century by an unknown artist (according to this site). Anaesthesia in those days was basically the number of people required to hold the patient down.

With our air conditioned operating theatres (in some countries, at least) and fine tuned general anaesthetic agents, we’ve come a long way.