first memory..

I was recently challenged to trace back to my first memory and find out what it means to who I am today. As I rummaged through my thoughts to pin point my first memory, images surfaced left and right. Pictures filled my thoughts, stories which had been recounted by my parents, peers, etc. nostalgia settled in. All I saw was light.

Memories, the mental faculty of retaining and recalling past experience; the act or instance of remembering, recollection.  I would have loved to recount the moment I was pushed out of my mum’s vagina or let alone the moment I was conceived but these memories have only been borrowed by those who actually recall this occurrence.

But as far back as memoir have taken me in the past 48hours. I recall being with my family. It is all just a blur now, but I am sure I was with them.  What significance does that bring to me now?  They bring reason to my life. Their sacrifices, the model they’ve set for me, for their community. They are my light.

Letters to my Grandma ...

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 And that is the mystery that is my grandmother...Born on the dawn of the war that was to end all wars on November 11, 1938.

When ever my grandmother comes to mind, a tinge of guilt follows. Simply put, I wish we were buds. Ever since before I can remember I've always associated my grandma with food. Through out my childhood we would customarily go to my grandmother's home after school and 95% of the time  our brief conversation would revolve around food. Usually inquiring if I was hungry, not necessarily considering if I was or not because before I knew it the maid,  Yollete, would serve hot plates of food for my siblings and I. So we grew accustomed to nodding our heads as she made sure our stomachs were filled to the brim. But upon consideration , I'm guessing she has  probably however detected that the gift of a simple plate of food has always brought joy and contentment in her world where one hot meal a day is rare and few between. But other then our conservative exchanges, she spoke very little of herself and has remained a mystery.

I have always been intrigued by my grandmother. I have been blessed with the good fortune of carrying her name the 'Victorious one.' From what my mother tells me, my grandmother was born into a very wealthy in the small commune of Maniche but never was granted the gift of a scholastic education.  It was said that in the area where she had resided as a child if she bore an education  she could have possibly been murdered; my great grandmother, her mother: Mme Julienne, weighed her odds and her preference was in favor of having her only child alive.Especially given the fact that her other two sons had been brutally murdered for contending to acquire an education. Who could blame her?

As I continued to extract tantalizing bits of information from my mother of this mysterious woman I came up with a glorious idea! How could I further my understanding of this matron who intimately mothered 10 children, a renown seamstress, managed a myriad of succesfull (magazines) businesses in Maniche, Les Cayes and Port-au-Prince, acquired  various plots of land  all over the country, etc...
Maybe, just ask her myself.

I know this task will not be easy, especially given the limited exchanges we've had in the past.  But delving into such intimate conversations will be valuable.

To begin my journey I have written her a letter...

Dear Grandma,

I primarily wanted to let you know how much I admire you.I'm not sure how I lucked out and got a grandma as extraordinary as you, you are the epitome of a  woman, strong, elegant, wise,etc..

From what your children have recounted:

You are an amazing wife, and loving mother: trustworthy, rare, and kind. You were also a disciplined,enterprising, and one of the most hardworking women they all have ever known.

 If God permits: I would love to learn more about you, your experiences,your trials & your hopes and dreams, ...

I love you.

Your grand-daughter,

Victoria