Who is Ginette?Wisdom of the newborn, innocence of sage, contradictions not clichés, best sum up this little package of power from the Caribbean. Not unlike the society from which she comes, the mix that makes the whole richly reflects dark tangled roots wine, woman and word. Bitter sound medicine cleaning you out after a ripe mango summer of shattered childhood dreams, resurrects to confront a stark reality of pain transformed in sweet performance. Wordsound freezes, sweats, unwraps memories youd rather forget. You squirm but her transformation is yours so you sit and hope she does not look you in the eye. You close yours and listen. How could she? How dare she expose? But she does and she dances while doing so, egging on the exploited of the world, never running away but knowing secret places and speaking the word we all know, but cannot say its name. Shame creeps out, driven away by awesome courage. This is not performance - This is Mother, Daughter, Sister, Lover, Wife - This is Life.
Woman-child of the sea, warm and wild and gentle, shocking and seducing the mind. Cariblack, Afreekan woman doing with the Queens English what she must because she can and because she shares the Queenship. Mothering the pata pata patois Kweyol spice of Saint Lucie, breaking the monotony of Anguillian airways with island tongue rhythms and dance. You see her dancing on the radio - nymph-like moves, never needing the drum as much as it needs her. Never needing anything but to rise above her fears and ease our own.
Ever saw a nymph limbo down under, hips in motion, barefoot, bareback, baresoul, barely in this world? But theres no bar, no barrier on thoughts writ large in spirit. Here she is. Citizen of Planet Dune, which would if it could but cannot, deny her labour of creation. Everything is preserved at the Dune Preserve, Rendezvous Bay, Anguilla, on a night with Ginette. Like dune sand, ever shifting, ever shaping, growing to protect itself and fellow citizens. The sand would cover her, if it could. The sea would drink her in, if it could, the moon on the dune stays tuned for Ginette. Too much: yet not enough. She loves the sea salt given to her tears and washes it all off in the rain. She loves seeking, finding, loving and will not be confined to the most beautiful beach in the world. She loves Words. And like the Quiet Warrior, knows that Words Need Love Too.
City lights beckon and she follows finding up high the star inside her. Starfish growing lopped off limbs, always beautiful, inspiring even when she retreats to her cave beneath the sea. Writing like lightning, telling like thunder, riding high on tsunami of praise to The Kaya. She feels good on the floor, spewing forth truth as you come through her door. Nothing can stop her, not even the reviewers scorching pen, for her tongue is the mightier. Kick Em Ginette! And when you see her name in lights on the screen of your TV set, on the front page of the magazine, know that she has earned those stripes. Know that she has exactly what it takes to make you want more. Know where to find her power for that is what she has to offer. This is Ginette.Ijahnya Christian, Anguilla B.W.I
[email protected]
