This poem is an updated version of an ‘I am’ poem that I originally wrote for CLTR1001 in 2022. It still applies. It always will. Chimole is my favourite food, not only because it tastes amazing, but also because it reminds me never to judge anything at face value.
I am a chimole woman,
a soup
an obeah concoction
made of black recado — a mix
of annatto, yellow corn, peppers; spices
charred, concealed
in this bubbling brew.
The eggs and chicken peek out
like floating eyeballs,
but if you pick up a maza tortilla
and soak me up;
taste a little bit of this stew,
you’ll know that I’m nice,
nice, nice!
Sylvia Wynter's Dream 