 I'm sorry, there's a screen in the shadows by Mr. Mcdonald Wilson. I invite you to stand for the National University, representative of the South Lewis Community College, invited guests, performers, well-wishers, on behalf of the Monsignor Patrick Hook Academy and the Cultural Development Foundation, and I invite you to the launch of Mr. Dixon's latest creative project, A Screen in the Shadows. To begin our launch, we will start off with a musical rendition, and I invite Ms. Barbara Cadet to join us each. I also want to take this opportunity to know sometimes when you're on a slide, you get to see the audience, and a special thank you of course to Mr. Dixon for being here, as well as to Stigran Nammal. I see Jean-Anne Kendall-Hippelitz as well as June Frederick, also the Yopaswa, quite a number of persons from the artistic community, and it is a pleasure to have you here today, and have you as part of these proceedings. If I didn't mention any other names, I would get to you eventually, I'm very sorry about the names and the names. At this point in time, we are going to have a reading of an excerpt of the novel. Now, I haven't read the novel as yet. I intend to buy my coffee today, but from what I know of Mr. Dixon's work and what I have read in terms of the reviews of the Bordard with a wonderful review, I know that the work is one that is not just exciting, but very reflective of Stenusha and our society. And so, we will have this excerpt being read by Stacey Giddens, George Bordard, David MacLennan, Sarah MacLennan, and Christopher Duncan. There were 10 going on 11 when it happened. I remember brushing my teeth by the sand pipe outside our house. It was early. I was cleaning myself a school, trying to remove bedding smells from my body and dreading the cold water that was about to fall on my skin. I hear my mother shout, Andrew, hurry up and babe, don't forget you got school today. When she called me Andrew, I know things serious. Most times it's Andy, when she want me to take this for her or find that. Yes mama, I shout back, straining my voice. It was not Claire if she heard me or not. She did the same thing every morning from Monday to Friday once I reached under the sand pipe and opened the tap. That day, out of the Claire blue sky, a thunder come rolling in from the sea. I look out to the east over the water and catch sight of a patch of black cloud. On the hill where we live, we had a clear view of the horizon in any season. I could hear mama talking to my little brother Marvin but her voice break in the strong wind that always come just before the rain. Mama dispatch Lauret, my big sister. She was two years older to her seamstress Miss Claire who lived on the high road. She still lives there near our school to lengthen her school skirt. Lauret was growing fast, mama say. Big for 13 and started wearing bra after she rushed past 12. Papa always get mad when fellers by the roll whistle at her, especially in her school clothes. He had put two men in cots for indecent assault but I didn't know what that mean until I asked mama and she confused me with her answer. The boy touched Lauret where they not supposed to touch her. I was none the wiser. Lauret's uniform was riding up above her knee and she tell mama that the boys in her class were always looking under her skirt. She bathed only long before me and take her tea. When I went out in the yard, she was putting on her clothes. I see papa in the kitchen when I just wake up and he was still there when mama order me outside to bathe. Lauret passed close by me while I naked under the stand height. She throw a little stone in joke with knock my backside. Not hard, but I pretend to ball. I feel her hand on my shoulder as she peep over and say softly, you're getting big boy. I bar myself with both hand and in the corner of my eye, watch her skip off down the little dirt road and disappear past miss Philomene's house under the bush. Mama sent me by the sink stretcher later to ask if Lauret was still there. I couldn't see any good reason why I was so close to my school but that I must go back home just to tell mama I didn't see Lauret. But if that is what mama wants, there is nothing I can do about it. I know Lauret sometimes stop and talk with papa when they meet in the gap. He was living at his grandmother miss Philomene just below us. I didn't see anything in that but I suspect mama was suspicious and that's why she wanted me to report back. In fact, miss Claire said that Lauret leave a long time ago. If I was drinking coffee, it would get so cold I would have to throw it away. I reached the school just as it starts in time for prayers. Let's say a little after nine o'clock. That I told him, I am shocked no matter what moment he was after Lauret hit me on my backside with the table. The woman of her down the gap towards the high road. She was always in a rush. I recall him wearing khaki short pants but no shirt. To me, he had a white plastic bottle in his hand but I'm not sure. I don't know if it's my imagination's main trick. I did not see him yesterday. I would have been at school but mama claimed he was in the kitchen when I left the house and even now she's 60 days. She was certain I saw papa in a piece of bread and took him to see while he was in bed. From the angle of the bar, it's not possible to see inside the kitchen. If I had seen him, I would remember saying goodbye to him when I leave for school. But mama said, but mama does not want to hear us. In her mind, papa was in the kitchen and never leave the house all morning until he go and help me bring him to the tree on her land and serve our house. Nobody can blame him for what happened outside and I was no witness. For the morning, six months after Lorette's funeral, cops were going loud in the yard. I turned a little on my side to see out of the room to hear like somebody knocking hard on the door. I was tempted to get up and check but something tells me, go back in. Next, I wake up for good to a loud, sang and mentioned open police. Mama get up, check in papa, to wake up Lorette, police. Papa yawned but quickly catch himself and put on his pants. I followed them to the door. Marvin was still asleep. Four officers in plain clothes rushed inside as soon as papa turned the keys in the lock. One of them had a sheet of paper in his hand. Are you Loven St. Mark? What? Papa looked stern. He couldn't say much. What happened to Loven St. Mark? Yes, it's his house. Mama was ready to take on all four officers. This is your husband? The officer with the paper art. Yes, it's Loven. Loven St. Mark, I have a warrant for your arrest for the murder of Lorette Stevens. From now on, you, anything you say can be taken down and held in evidence against you. An officer took out a pair of handcuffs and stole Loven St. Mark's hand and his back. Mama went home. I followed papa when the police matched him outside. There were 16 of them. Two armed with rifles stayed outside. Mama tried to hold me back in the doorway but I slipped through her hands. Although still very early, crowds, a crowd gathered by the roadside. Children were there with their parents and later in school, they were happy to tell me how the policeman handled papa and shove him in the back of the jeep. It was not a good day for me. At school, I hung my head in shame over my desk listening to the children speak about my father. They didn't care if I got vets. They were with one voice. The police walk him to the house, push him in the back of the seat and carry him down to the station. Boa! They rejoiced. The news went while swinging on vines around Boanev appeal to Texime and deep into Goa Boa. Papa was arrested and condemned without a hearing or trial and his whole family crucified in the process. In this little place behind God's back, justice is one face you seldom see and if you fall, you might never see it. Sometimes, time sits on your case and after several years, will allow you a hearing. By then, you would be lucky if witnesses remember your face. For my father, it would be many years before his day came. To say I remember Papa ever speaking to me, the morning police came for him, either in sympathy, pity or regret, would be a lie. He kept his face in front and didn't look back. One of our cousins, Miss Eldora's eldest daughter from Texime, came by the school to collect me that afternoon and to take me to her house. She was on her own living with her boyfriend. I stayed with her because mama went with Marvin to Denry police station where they charged Papa without bail. Nobody could explain to me and I did not understand what was going on there. My father's case was called every year, at least once, sometimes twice. But on account of some technicality, it was always adjourned. So back he went to her majesty's prison in castries to an overcrowded jail filled of inmates awaiting trial, mostly young men, on the privilege with no jobs. Papa's lawyers were having a ball, drawing fees from government without having to work. For 11 years, mama went up and down the road hoping for a trial, but there was only adjournment after adjournment, world without end, but no amen. Detectives who started as juniors on the case, he got promoted, some left the force. The chief of police job changed hands umpteen times. Lawyers came and lawyers went. Every time they take my father to court, they started afresh, like it was a new case. Everybody was green, except the accused. One day, when I couldn't take it again, feeling sorry for mama, I asked Sergeant Willis, both face, what you think going to happen with Papa's matter? What you mean, he grinned, taken by surprise. You think he guilty? I pressed him. I'm not a judge, I'm not a jury. Things look too neat, I stammered. It's so easy to plant evidence. However, after remaining silent for a while, he swallowed his spit and spoke. I was a little policeman when the commotion starts. I know your mother long, we grew up together. She was damn good looking when she was young. If we were not family, I could have married her. I find myself on the case when I get to know her husband was involved. My spirit never take to him. But like I tell you, always approach the case with an open mind. Questions came racing through my head. Suddenly, I wanted to know more than there was to know about and beyond this case. The files are there, you can go through them when you want, Sergeant said. You got a lot of reading to catch up. You will help me, I teased. Once Sergeant is in my corner, I will reach where I want to go. I do have a lot of questions. One thing though, don't involve the others. Keep whatever you find between us. You don't have to tell me, Sarge. After many, many visits, and mama get back accustomed to me around the house again, there was a day her tongue slip. She was in the kitchen in a talkative mood. I was sitting by the table, watching her scale some pot fish I bring. We cover several subjects, including how grateful she was for the little help I was giving her, about Marvin and his friends, her neighbors. We speak about almost everything except papa or laurette. Then she started humming one of her favorite church hymns. We stand for God and for his glory, without lifting her head from the basin and the fish. I wait until she ran out of high notes. Why you, what you find in that hymn? You humming it nonstop since I was a little boy, I ask, pretending to joke. She did not look at me, but answered with a question. Why you keep troubling me with all those things, eh? I just find myself humming it too when I'm in trouble. I look at her as she pick up a small fish and plunge her kitchen knife into the guts. A little blood splatter on her cheeks and she wipe it away with her elbow in a rage. Why you don't go and ask Rupert and Curtis? Your father report them for rape laurette, you forget? Those two names again. Miss Claire mentioned them to me. In mama's head, trying was doing. Rape mama. I never heard it tried to rape laurette. I thought was in decent assault. If it was rape, that's serious. All like now they should be in jail. I take time off to learn more about Rupert and Curtis. The names were on police files, but not for rape or attempted rape. You don't live here. How you expect to know what happening up here? Mama was leading to something. Perhaps she was unburdening her mind. I can't know if you don't tell me. What I understand is they try to touch laurette's breast one afternoon after school. I never hear about this rape business. If they try to touch her, what is that? She not their friend. She don't know them. What they want to touch her for? Mama, in decent assault is not rape. I understand attempt depending on how far they go, but they never try to rip her clothes off, which means they never touched her. Papa was the one who made a big fuss, but he had no case. No, Mr. Lee, I saw you were into it and you're wondering why it stopped right now. You as well, I saw you. You seem very into the reading. Thank you so much for being here. They will be back a little later, but at this point in time, we just want to take a moment because you know Mr. Dixon is a man of many talents, and we want to share with you some of his other accomplishments, Mr. Dixon in a different artistic arena. So for this, I ask you to have a look at the screen and enjoy. I sent you in Martinique Metro the unfolding letter of a sail, a letter beyond the lines of blindingly white breakers, of lace-laden surpluses and congregational shales. I did not send any letter, though it flailed on the wind. Your island is always in the haze of my mind with the blown about sea birds and the creole clatter of vowels metra among makers whom the reef recites when the copper sea almonds blaze, beacons to distant docker and the dolphins acres. Some persons are saying, I would love to know some to have that covered. We invite you to watch this video that gives you just an idea of the other accomplishments of this Greek man. MacDonald Ernest Dixon was born in Castry, St. Lucia in 1944. He had taken over the island and he was the first to come to the island and he was the first to come to the island. He attended the Canon Laurie Anglican Primary School and St. Mary's College and from quite early on he manifested the multifacetedness which continues to mark his work as an artist. As a student, while he was filling his exercise books with adolescent poetry, he was also covering pages of his drawing books with sketches. After graduating from the St. Mary's College, he joined the Royal Bank of Canada and later the National Commercial Bank of St. Lucia where he went on over a 30-year period to forge a successful career in banking. During that period, he rose steadily to the highest banking position at the Royal Bank of Canada becoming its first local manager and when the National Commercial Bank of St. Lucia was established he was at the helm there as its first managing director in 1981. Dickson also went on to serve in the capacity of trade and commerce advisor to the government of St. Lucia. Magdala Dickson is an established and well-known poet, novelist, short story writer, actor, photographer and painter who is also actively involved in the world of theatre as a playwright, actor and director. He became interested in the arts at an early age and was just 16 years old when he came across Derek Walcott's 25 poems while exploring the shelves of his school library at the St. Mary's College. In the mid-1960s, Dickson was swept up in the maelstrom of activity by the St. Lucia Arts Guild which was started by Derek Walcott and his brother Roderick becoming involved in performing and directing. He acted in a range of plays from European classics like Odiepus Rex and Julius Caesar to Caribbean comedies such as One for the Road. In directing also, he ran the gamut. The modernistic, the queen and the rebels sits comfortably in his directing portfolio alongside the mock doctor, a Caribbean adaptation of Molière's The Doctor in spite of himself. You saw what I did. You saw what I had to do. You hid him all these years. I suppose they would call you a good nigger. You saw what I had to do. Dickson's first publication was a collection of poems entitled Pebbles, 1973. He then set his hand to writing plays and his work began to appear in several magazines and anthologies throughout the region. When the Arts Guild ended, he continued to write plays covering heavily on his knowledge of folk heritage and local history. His play, The Folk Musical Tinde, directed by George Fish Alphos and featuring music by Charles Cadet was St. Lucia's theatrical presentation at Carifesta V in 1992 in Trinidad. In his writings, Dickson seeks to recreate the history of his people's myths and legends to serve as a reference for contemporary and future writers in his country. An accomplished photographer, Dickson's love of country is continuously transcended through his photography of St. Lucia's landscape and rich cultural heritage. Dickson's biography of works includes and are not limited to novels and short stories, Saints of Little Paradise Book 1, Eden Defiled, 2012, Miss Begotten, 2009, Season of Mist, 2007, Poetry, Collected Poems, 2003, The Poet Speaks and Other Poems, 1993, Pebbles, 1973, Plays, The Glass Doll, A Soldier Always, The Chosen, Diablo Terre, Tinde, Calender, The Last Lamp. Dickson continues to guide and bridge the gap to the new generation of writers, directors and artists. He helped develop and stage One for the Road with Kingsley Powlett, 1972, co-directed Melania Daniels, Jesus of Conway with Drenia Frederick, 2003. His exploratory theatrical work and readings with St. Mary's College Students, St. Lucia's Writers Forum and 2019 guidance on Jesse Myers and Monique O'Geese's A Little Folk Tale, St. Lucia's theatrical contribution to Carifesta 14 are all part of the mentoring that has marked his continuing artistic journey. Dickson has steadfastly served his country over the years in many important positions, including that of Acting Governor General of St. Lucia when required. Though Dickson's character and personality continue to reflect that of a modest man focused on work and not accolades, the societal recognition of his work and contribution to the arts is manifested in him being awarded the St. Lucia National Medal of Merit, 1993 for his long-standing contribution to literature and photography and the Cultural Development Foundation's 2005 Lifetime Achievement Award for his invaluable contribution to the arts in St. Lucia. Quite an impressive list of accomplishments. Quite a full life. Now, at this point in time, I know, again, as we said earlier on, you wanted more of the book. So, Ms. Victor, Mr. Montroup, we are ready for our second reading, yes? So, now I'd like to call on the actors for the second reading. We have Ms. Stacy Gillens, we have Ms. Jesse Myers, Kendall Hippolyte, David MacLennan, and Mr. Goddard. You look like Mr. Goddard in the dark there, that's what. That is Mr. Christopher Duncan. To go outside, to pass water in my mouth. I forgot my toothbrush back in castries and borrowed hers. Mama was already in the kitchen. I stand in the open, my back to the house, like when I was small, and peep down the little hill before I pass the wash rod with some soap on my face. You're not forgetting your bad manners there, Anima. I hear Mama's voice. It come from inside the kitchen. She was in good spirits. After I scrubbed my teeth, I went to the kitchen, sit in the old chair that's been around from before I was born. Mama hand me a cup of coffee, hot like she know I like it, black and very sweet. I see Angel almost ready, Mama said, trying to make small talk. She still has some months to go. I blushed. You all have a name for the baby yet? If it's a girl, we will call her Lorette. We don't think it will be a boy. If it's a boy, call him Lovence. I couldn't believe she was serious. We'll see about that when the time comes. I forced myself to smile, but a smile just couldn't come to my face. Mama was ready to jump all over me to defend her husband. Lovence didn't do nothing wrong. You have all people know that. Something in her voice told me she was not herself. You think he would touch a child he bring up and feed from a baby? Why is he still in jail then, Mama? I was uncertain how this would sound in her ears. I don't know. She started to cry, hiding her face as usual in a dark corner. Mama, how many times I will say it? I'm not little again. There's no need to hide things from me. I'm not hiding things from you. She could have blown my head off with a gun if she had one and would be none the wiser in my coffin. That's how angry she got all of a sudden. I hear things every day that make me afraid. I don't go by the road again unless I have to go. Mama, stop listening to people. They will send you mad. Which people? Sometimes I just can't take it. It's too much. Tell me what you hear, Mama. What making you feel afraid? Tell me. I watched tears roll down her cheeks faster than the little ravine we call river below the house. Mama, wipe her eyes with her skirt and stare at me. Her lips move spitting outwards. Your father is not Lorette father. It had been like a cancer inside her. It took a lot to spit it out. I know, I said. Always say I was the luckiest man in the world. The day I lose my way in the ministry building and ask her for directions on the elevator. She looked at me sideways as if afraid, saying in her mind, what that man looking like looking at me so far? You don't have to be scared, I tell her. I'm a police officer, although I was still a recruiter training school. She looked at me without smiling. That's when I should be afraid. What happened? You lose your smile. I asked, putting on my best sexy tone. The elevator reached third floor. This is when going, she said, as the door opened. What about you? What happened? When I finish, can I come to see you? The door closed without getting a reply. No chance to putting a comma edgewise. Something strange was happening to me. I could not control myself from wanting to see her again. A tractor, a little plain face, no lipstick, no earrings. She looked new to the job like me, fresh from school. I wondered if she had a boyfriend or was having a crush on somebody. Two weeks after our first encounter, on my way to the ATM to get some weekend money, who should I see going in the same direction? Hello, I shout, jockeying to get a breast. She did not answer. I skip forward faster and catch up with her. Not you again, she glared. You tracking me or what? Oh, no, I will never do that. You men, I don't know what to believe when you speak. You sound defensive. I brave the choppy waters. I'm not afraid of you. She looked at me under her eyelids like somebody wearing glasses. Her eyes were brown. What's your name? She asked. Too stunned to speak. I paused before opening my mouth. Andrew, friends call me Andy. I don't know why I'm talking to you. My mother warned me about policemen. I'm not a full policeman yet. I hear you, she nipped and increased her speed. I'd like very much to be your friend, I stutter, afraid of what she might reply. I don't have boyfriends. That means I'll be the first. Maybe if you have guts to face my mother, thank God she keeps all of you away. I'm sure your mother is a nice person. A little voice tells me I'm doing much better than I believe, but don't get overconfident. If I must ask your mother to be your friend, I will. You want me to ask her? You are strange. She shrugged her shoulders and smiled at me. Why you say so? You don't ask me my name. You don't ask me for my phone number and you want to meet my mother? We laughed. I am Angel. I'm a receptionist on the fourth floor. She pointed at the building behind us where we met on the elevator. About two to three weeks after Papa came from jail, Angel gave both to a baby girl. She weighed seven pounds, eight ounces. Angel came from hospital with the baby three days after confinement and went straight by her mother. She had me until she learned how to feed and bathe the baby properly. According to Miss Beatrice, Angel didn't know anything about man or child. She herself didn't give her no bouquet and never looked for more children after Angel was born. Miss Beatrice was superstitious. Every Monday morning, she took a trip to the Garde to learn about her future and come back repeating some of the strangest things you could ever hear. The one miracle in her life, the Garde, for C to warn her was Angel having a baby girl. There was prediction from Angel's first child who was going to be a boy and Miss Beatrice beautifully drowned herself in blue. I remained alone for a month in our little two-room house and visited Angel and our baby after work. At nights, my mind wandered. There was always the moment I went back to the day Papa found Lauret under the bush. I start seeing Lauret every night alive and fresh in my mind but looking very restless. I speak to a young priest after Mass one morning and he tells me maybe she's unhappy. He recommends I give a Mass for the reports of her soul. I give him ten dollars but I don't know if he said the Mass because Lauret keeps appearing more often than before just like she was in the coffin. Her face make up like a big woman with rouge on her cheeks and lipstick on her lips and not a day older. One night I was lying on the bed watching television tired, listless sleep not come in. On top of that the electric company them tick the current and they leave me in the dark. It's difficult for me to believe of what happened is just coincidence. Dreams are so alive they put reality to shame. Imagine I by myself pitch black casting my hands yet I hear a fine clear voice calling my name Andrew Andrew I could hear the breeze on the roof and the dog howling in the neighbor's yard I put my head back down on the pillow I can hear vehicles racing up and down the street then I hear a fine clear voice again he kill me and nothing for that I jump out of bed and bolt to the door If you tell us sorry in the bedroom stranger things does happen there I don't need evidence to show his lack of sympathy he did not disguise it I cannot choose my father that's my mother's job but I can disown him once he gives me cause the more I thought about it the less reason I find for mama to continue to remain papa not because you marry him and carry his children you got to remain it was my duty to remove teethwear and mama but where to begin what can I say to convince her to leave I have to go down by polynes to buy some groceries for the house mama insisted no your father will bring food when he come papa did not come back until after dark drunk both hands swinging like police on parade papa march into the kitchen like a big boss instead of starting with the usual good night he went harassing mama a strong smell of white rum on his breath filled up the tiny space he demanded his food and went and wanted to warm right away seems to me stop what you are doing and attend to me I wanted to ask mama about the groceries he was supposed to buy but that would invite trouble shame can cause you to do things and say things you don't mean and for sure she would feel embarrassed she dish out his food yam and sardines in a large bowl and placed it on the kitchen table with a spoon get up and eat and let your brother sit down sorry let your father sit down mama's way of ordering me out of the kitchen she see on my face I was not pleased your father must be tired that was a lame excuse but I got up without looking at him maving bring out the old mattress he just slipped onto the front I was tired and before I put my head down I fell asleep and no nothing again until four o'clock start chanting in the tall trees behind the kitchen between the drizzles on the roof to tell me it going to be morning soon the next morning I jump on the first minivan I meet going to Denry and I get off by the police station Corporal Jean Pierre was off duty I went to his house to remind him that no officer had come up to interview mama and I was getting worried on the agenda I know we have a reputation for treating matters involving domestic violence cool like the private affairs between two people and not police business I see a number of cases for assault assault on battery call with neither complainant nor the accused present on the day of the case perhaps this disgusts officers and in the end they don't want to waste precious time on matters that will die a natural death Corporal Jean Pierre tried to reassure me this was not the case with our matter but he said your mother has not given a statement or make a complaint my hands are tied don't worry I will not tie them I will bring her down to the station when you on duty I was suspicious about Corporal Jean Pierre I hear rumors that he himself got a history of beating his girlfriends he should have been made sergeant long ago but he had blemishes on his file none of the complaints he was involved in ever reached a stage to be investigated the women withdrew before the suspect was questioned the top brass keep him in exile in denry away from the bright lights I get back to 1F earlier than expected my mama was in the kitchen sitting in a corner gazing into space both hands under her chin I placed the groceries on the kitchen table still in plastic bags I turned to find her eyes red she was crying something happened I hope it's not another beating she shake her head when I asked her pointless quarreling all I could do is order her to the bed don't put on her clothes we go into the station this nonsense got to stop I was gasping for breath more facts than I really should what nonsense I got her to open her mouth at last I go to open the window and the wind swing it back and hit my face which window mama she pointed to the kitchen window a wind the table is between you and the window you either have to move the table aside or climb on it and stick your neck out and hit you in the face mama no window give you a black eye don't forget my work I solve cases worse than a black eye I see them every day one of these days you will end up dead you think you know everything just because she woke herself up to a frenzy using curse words I never hear coming from her mouth before forgetting what she learned from papa since he came from prison I sooth my nerves trying to convince myself not to blame her he put her through hell I sit down at the kitchen table and remain quiet until she simmer down enough to listen let me see your eyes mama and I hold her hand she recoiled believe what you want she shifted to her favorite corner stooped down and she clasped her hands between her thighs come straight mama I know what happened but you still have to say I spoke gently you come from where you come from listen to what people by the road say and you decide to make my life miserable they tell you love it's as big as me and you believe them nobody has to tell me that's why you're asking all these questions in this script I don't want to tell you love it's punch me in my eye I just believe that is he that kill laurette one of these days some I just hope it's not you mama I could not resist the remark pounds off my tongue like a sponge cake love it's never put his hand on me from the day I know him he loves me he loves laurette he loves all his children he loves me and my husband and so we continue the story of Dixon about Dixon and I would like to welcome Mr. Robert Lee a few remarks about Dixon and to introduce the writer thank you Emberth and thank you to the readers of Magdi's work and I read that novel I saw that opening chapter it's one of the best I've read for a long time opening chapters and I think Magdi captured the solution English vernacular so very well you heard it come out in the readings they put at risk of the general emeritus DPS is with us she's Solange Belizeer Charles Belizeer Ramona of CDF all the crew of FRC today Emberth Milcho and others now as soon as I walked in so many of us haven't seen each other for the past two for most of the past last two years I certainly haven't been here for a long time myself so it's a pleasure to be with all of you again so members of the independence committee if somebody said Daryl is around welcome Daryl if you're here somewhere members of the independence standing committee let me on your behalf let me on your behalf welcome those joining us on live stream both here at home in San Lucia regionally and internationally and Magdi I'm sure you want me to welcome Pauli Patulo publisher who's probably being with us online I've known McDonald Dixon for most of my life the earliest memories of him go back to primary school days at the Anglican school and he's walking home with his mother on the Church Road one of the memories I have recorded in a poem is of Magdi running down Church Road his long hair flying and my cousin commenting with laughter on his flight my other school remembrances are from St. Mary's College where Dixon showing early signs of financial entrepreneurship and marketing skills used to sell bread and butter at the back of SMC to school boys he also recites books, his war stories of diving spitfires for the younger people who have spitfires where this war plays the English people used I must confess I was one of his enthralled customers in 1967 after completing St. Mary's College and going to work at the Royal Bank of Canada I met Magdi for the first time since the other glimpses of him were from a distance he quickly became a mentor and has remained a friend ever since in those years he already had a reputation as St. Lucia's best known local home-based poet Derek Walcott then already a long resident in Trinidad and Tobago Magdi was a friend of Roderick Walcott he was a member of the influential St. Lucia Ask Guild he was already acting and directing as well as writing plays through him I joined the Guild and was soon on stage for the first time being directed by Mr. Dixon my love for and involvement with theatre were rooted in this introduction to drama as a writer Magdi also catalyzed my nascent interest in and gift for literature is reading and writing I guess he found me an admiring disciple and we spent much time at the voice bookshop which is then at the head of Bridge Street the library Ask Guild rehearsals I wish not many here would remember Magdi you know even if Pablo would know where that was Mary Ann Street the bank bachelor's quarters and other related activities of young men of our time in our circle in those years in the late 60s Roderick Walcott and his wife Stella who worked with us at the bank I remember spending about two weeks with Roderick Stella and Magdi and others on Rat Island Ask Guild actors like the late Arthur Jacobs who later became an internationally recognized Walcott scholar Pat Charles Stanley Reed a Barbadian living here at the time very good friend of Magdi but that's another story Stanley Reed Stanley Reed with Augustus Justin whose picture you saw earlier on myself, Magdi Augustus just standing at the launch of Magdi's book at the library Stanley Reed with Augustus Justin and Kenny Anthony as the Kenny Anthony started a literary magazine titled Link in which most of us published our first poems and stories I went off to Kville, Uwe in 1969 and alongside literature and other studies continued my involvement in theatre as acting director and began to write even more seriously poems, stories, reviews in 1963 Magdi paid me a huge compliment by asking me to write the forward to his first poetry collection, Pebbles which had been edited by another criminal of those days edited by Papa Anthony another enduring friendship from those days who's still with us in my forward I wrote I'm convinced that since Walcott Derek you are the only solution poet writing truly about San Lucia yet in not so parochial a way that nobody else knows what you're talking about Kendall Hipplick another long friend of ours has frequently referenced the literary and our traditions of San Lucia my early comment then in the forward to Magdi's first book placed Dixon in that clear line of our literary tradition after Derek Walcott at 18 had published his 25 poems in 1948 which was printed in Trinidad in later on in Barbados Derek went on to publish two other early works before he's important in a green night in 1962 with the UK publisher Jonathan K brought him international attention in the meantime at home only Hunter François first and last poems 1949 and Howick Elcock with his book Alpha 1950 had produced single poetry collections when in 1973 Dixon as the voice of a new generation of San Lucia poets and dramatists brought out Pebbles and then followed it with several other collections they acknowledged successes to Walcott and the earlier home-based writers here in San Lucia Magdi's example and work opened the door to new writers to quickly appear Lee Hipplick Sinclair King Auger Marcial Mitchell and others they brought up collections rapidly influenced by Walcott and Dixon who had shown that local writing and publishing were valid and important artistic activities my bibliography solution writers and writing and author index which Papier Press published in 2019 provides a listing of our writers and their works across poetry pros and genres all these writers are mentioned you can find them listed in their works in that index of solution writers Kendall Hipplick has spoken of his admiration for Dixon's industry not only is Magdi a prolific writer of poetry but as you heard earlier has authored several plays, novels and short stories the novels and short stories have been published while many of the plays have been produced and with publication have been encouraging him put out a collection of the plays even as we launch his latest novel A Scream in the Shadows published by the important Papier Press based in London and Dominica he's already working on another novel keep sharing new poems with friends writes the occasional review and plans are being made for filming one of his historical dramas Kessno did I mention he has been a painter I think at the end of the program Papier will be introducing an exhibition of Magdi's photographs which are going up Magdi has recently revived his photography producing some fascinating surrealistic work using computer editing techniques he is one of those multi gifted Caribbean artists who work successfully in several genres this veteran writer has made a parallel Korean banking is an expert in corporate and trade issues you did hear he once was deputy to the governor general he never invited people like Kendall myself to share the base sellers of the government house you know your excellency but that's another story he can be counted on in social gatherings to be a raconteer of local politics the art and culture and wherever the old talk leads in published articles and interviews I have always named Magdi as a mentor it was an article I published very recently and I named him again close friends probably know us aspiring partners teasing each other constantly I've often cited my gratitude that the creative artists of my generation especially us writers have kept respectful relationships without sharing quarrels or destructive disputes even as we recognize each other's viewpoints guard personal spaces support each other without modelling flattery in the work we do out of our common ground this simply seeing that is home and inspiration to us if we sit to the feet and saddle the feet of Derek Wolcott Roddy and Stanley French and Garth and Dunstan and so on Magdi has been one of our major cornerstones and reference points and we and I speak for myself I know I speak for all of us here and friends listening Magdi we are grateful for your faithfulness and long dedicated contribution to the art and culture of our island thank you my friend thank you very much God bless you I think I need to make a small correction Robert Magdi has acting governor general when required to do so deputy to when required so he is still available and perhaps if he is required to do so you may be invited to the government house not yet well thank you Robert let me now invite Magdi to share a few words with us as the author of this new publication that is thank you well don't ask me how much I paid Robert please it might be embarrassing then pull it permanent secretary deputy permanent secretary and ministry and so long I don't want to make a mistake and get it out of order cigarette Mrs. Wynne please let your hair I am very grateful for the sponsorship of CDF and the folk research making this evening possible I am sure that my publisher will join me in thanking you for this kind gesture I am not famous for my speeches because I tend to misplace words and say certain things I ought not to say so I will be very brief and just thank all of you who took time off to come out at three o'clock in the afternoon to attend this and I will do what I can do best read my own work so here is a little excerpt from I forget the name and all I will scream in the shadows and I hope you like it my mind was thick against my skin the place quiet I could almost touch the silence Sarge creep ahead to the edge of the kitchen and creamed his neck into the yard he turned in slow motion then raised both hands stop don't come any further do you have your peace what I need a gun for I said to myself my mind get knotted in vines why take a gun to come and talk to my father Sarge hadn't taken his gun either however from where I was I could see like something hitting hard across the face I paralyzed too my feet, my hands uncony where I am standing I can't shift left, I can't move right I see the turtle of his shirt Jack head towards the kitchen steps moving very slowly on tiptoe like he didn't want to mash the ground hard in case it disappear under his foot somehow I inch forward ignoring his orders I could see the open back door the bedroom but not the whole yard my head start to spin I didn't notice my spinky shoe pass and begin boiling down the place as if her mother finally decide to die I tell you to stay where you are I hear Sarge's voice but couldn't see him Miss Pinky was in the middle of a fit screaming and pulling out the little hair left on her head messing up a crime scene woman Sarge was speaking to Miss Pinky I could now see Miss Pinky holding mama by the shoulders and shaking her heart mama was sitting on the kitchen steps holding a body across her lap from the feet, shoes and pants it was a man but things take a while to register as if I'm in the cinema watching in slow motion I could see blood lots of blood I go from feeling giddy to feeling numb Sarge tried to stop me I was too strong for him I pulled Miss Pinky away from mama and she grabbed me by the neck I was taller than her and could see over her shoulder mama's eyes were wide open gazing past us staring like a statue into space face blank, eyes dry she was not crying not even vex I self was two days to absorb what I was seeing too numb to react I remember sitting down by Miss Pinky and looking across at mama in the kitchen steps what happened mama what happened is all I remember seeing and looking at all the blood splattered everywhere just shaking my head over and over and over thank you thank you very much for a wonderful evening thank you Mark Donald the evening has just started actually I think now we have some remarks from the publisher Polly Patulou can I get a cue when it's on please we want to invite Polly who has assisted many solution writers take the work overseas to contribute to this really great program to celebrate the publication it was so good to see copies of the printed word in everyone's hand thanks to the really lovely introduction by Robert Lee who's indeed always done so much to support the press you have all done the book proud and also I was most interested to learn more about Max Rich created life I really just want to say what a great publisher it has been for me to publish this remarkable book and so to add to the distinguished literature of St Lucia and the wider Caribbean I looking back in the last few days I checked the email correspondence that I've had with Mac about the book and I noticed that it started a long time ago as in October 2018 when Mac wrote to me to say that he had this manuscript and would I be interested in publishing it well it's been a long time I think it was three years later when it actually went to the publisher and he had to deal with endless suggestions from me and demands and queries and I'm very grateful that he actually never complained at least not to me when he responded to endless lists of things I would like I wanted him to do he would reply in this sort of way he would say I'm not afraid of tackling this or I must be a masochist for enduring this pain and liking every minute of it so it really was a tremendous process and enriching process and learning process for me as well so now it's published it's a great moment I think this book is remarkable from the moment I read that first page I love the tone and the language and I absolutely echo what Robert Lee said about that it's a traditional who done it it also explores very powerful and important themes of Caribbean life in a disturbing way it's certainly a death far from paradise rather than in paradise so please do buy it, read it enjoy massive congratulations to Mac again I wish I was here with you and thank you for writing such a wonderful book I send you all good wishes and I so and also just congratulations to William St. Lucia on your 43rd independent celebrations so thank you very much and do continue to enjoy your afternoon thank you another round of applause please at this point in our program we invite the author McDonald Dixon to make presentation of a few copies of the book you'll get them, the autographed and I will make a special appeal for those of you who are here to purchase your copy it doesn't cost much I have purchased mine I have read it and I have enabled the seal of many copies for Dixon he called me his traveling salesman Robert will talk about commission that's what FRC so first person we would like to call on is Your Excellency Dim Pulitz Luigi, Governor General Emerita to receive a copy on behalf of the well, before the Folk Research Center Marseille Patrick Antony to receive his copy and let me invite Mr Melcher Henry to receive on behalf of the Folk Research Center Library don't take it home Miss Ramona Wynne on behalf of the Cultural Development Foundation and Mr Darrell Montrop Darrell Montrop or someone Ministry of Culture Ministry of Culture, sorry Mr Deputy Permanent Secretary Solange Charles Belize and the Standing Committee for Independence Mr Montrop Darrell Darrell is somewhere in cyberspace, he'll get it sometime No appearance Thank you, so one more for sale Thank you very much Mark and let me now invite Miss Solange Charles Belize Deputy Permanent Secretary Ministry of Tourism Investments Creative Industries Culture and Information to deliver a few remarks I think I need to get there Excellency Dim Pulitz Luigi Mr Robert Lee Mr Kendall Hippolet Mrs Ramona Wynne Distinguished guest Mr Donald Dixon Other invited guests Special invited guests A wonderful good afternoon to you The arts are a very wide range of human practices of creative expressions storytelling and cultural participation They encompass multiple diverse and plural thinking doing and being in an extremely broad range of media It is seen as the vehicle through which human beings cultivate distinct social cultural and individual identities while transmitting values impressions judgments visions spiritual meanings patterns of life and experiences across time and space Mr. McDonald Dixon Your work over the years have truly embodied what it means to be an artist Today is indeed an auspicious occasion and on behalf of the ministry of tourism, investments creative industries culture and information and on behalf of the minister I extend congratulations to you on your relentless dedicated in pursuing your passion which has led to yet another masterpiece A Scream in the Shadows The first crime novel to be published by a St. Lucian writer This relentless dedication is what we at the ministry aim to nurture as it has the power to transcend lives and be the driver for economic growth and foster sustainable development The ministry therefore has channeled its efforts in developing a holistic framework for the culture and creative industry Essential to achieving this mandate is the review of the national cultural policy which will be a focused activity in the upcoming financial year The ministry has conducted several rounds of consultations with stakeholders and is working towards enhancing the data collection efforts to initiate the development of the cultural and creative industries satellite account The exercise will provide empirical data to assist with policy decisions create substantive programs for assistance and value and measure the contribution or contributions of the creative industries to grow domestic product employment and job creation As an accomplished poet play writer writer and also an avid photographer and painter we look forward to your work being used in the educational sector in the educational system and throughout our creatives Once again Mr. McDonnell Dixon congratulations on this achievement. Thank you Thank you very much Madam Deputy Permanent Secretary It means if there is a commitment to use your book in the education sector you will sell I know you've been there with us for a while We come into the end of our ceremony and let me invite Ms. Ashlyn St. Martin from the folk research center to remove the vote of thanks and thereafter we'll invite Parba to do what he does best Protocol has been established Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen It's my privilege to have been asked to propose a vote of thanks on this occasion I wish to say a big thank you to master and mistress of ceremonies Ms. Cantilia-Louis and Mr. Ember Charles for guiding us this lunch to smoothly and expertly This went a long way towards ensuring that this event was a success I must point to a deep sense of appreciation for Barbara's cadet's beautiful musical rendition It said that music is food of love Play on Barbara We will fed well We are grateful to Stacey Gidson George Goddard, David MacNallan Sarah MacLennan, Kendall Hippolyt Jesse Mayers and Christopher Duncan for reading to us except from Scream in the Shadows These were savory testers We are now anxious to delve into the main course Let me express sincere thanks to Mr. Robert Lee for introducing the writer and to the producers of the audio-visual biography of Mr. MacDonald Dixon We wish to thank Paulie Partula of Partula at Press the publisher of Scream in the Shadows for her remarks Though she could have been here with us in person her remarks were well received We are fangful for the confidence that Papilla at Press has shown in the work of this talented son of St. Lucia and hope that other St. Lucia writers to follow in Mr. Dixon's footsteps especially our up and growing writers Thank you to the co-chair independent standing committee Mr. Darrell Montirop and also without this funding support this event would not have been possible especially at this time Mr. MacDonald Dixon you have given us this amazing crime story based on a social issue and that we are also familiar with You have molded this story into a backdrop of cultural legends and provide us with marvelous entertainment. Thank you very much Thanks as well to the folk research center the cultural development foundation and the independent standing committee for collaborating on this important event very well done an event like this requires planning and a bird's eye for details Thank you for those who were involved in the actual organization of the event especially Ms. Drenia Fedrick who gave up some of her vacation time and Mr. Tyrone Harris to assist in the planning and execution of this event Ladies and gentlemen we thank you for being with us this evening it has been a great pleasure Thank you very much Thank you very much Ashley and St. Martin and something I must tell you when we decided and it was Robert Lee's idea that we do something about Fordixon on this book we immediately sent the idea around FRRC board members who I guess in a jiffy said let's go ahead and of course the next step was where we place it how we get money for it but what was most important is the people who read who jumped at the idea of sharing the talent for MacDonald Dixon and I think I want to give them a resounding applause because it is testament to the respect that we have for MacBee Papa now is supposed to bless the exhibition so Papa let me invite you to officially bless and open the exhibition of Dixon's talents I don't know what kind of blessing you want MacD just I would just like to say that in MacD we have a connection with Harry and Derek and Apilo and the person who MacD makes the link to this Leo's past talent you see those are the guys who really opened up through Harry the landscape of St. Lucia so Harry showed them what it was like and Leo spawned his motorcycle would go around and Leo would capture scenes of St. Lucia in fact MacD was saying to me that he was trying to capture in photography the mourn and some parts of St. Lucia over the years so for example every five years you would take pictures so you can get an idea of the development of the country through photography and some of the beautiful prints that the family still has and we hope it will become part of the National Archives is the work of Leo's past talent so MacD's photography links that makes that connection to and of course of course his paintings with Apilo and Derek's own work so it gives me great pleasure this afternoon to say a prayer and to bless this country bless all our St. Lucia spirit bless our artists especially the young people who need so much positive direction for their creativity so that it can really become something that makes this nation proud so let's bow our heads in the moment of prayer we thank you for guiding us and your action we thank you in prison blessing glorify you and we ask you Lord God to continue to use us use us as co-creators of you so that the genius of our people may manifest itself in all forms of productivity music poetry drama novels paintings we thank you Lord God for that creative spirit of our people and we pray that the positive spirits may take over the heart of our nation that your spirit may guide this country guide our political leaders guide our young people guide our children so that whatever we dance to your great and own glory may really manifest in this land and this land of light that is Lucia may truly be a testament in our Caribbean and in the world we ask you to bless Mark Day and bless all of our creative artists bless our nation and the 42nd version of your influence we make this prayer to you Father through your son Jesus union Holy Spirit one God forever and ever one only prayer a defeat a dissent as we assist what