No matter what we tried, AMANDALA could not compete with THE REPORTER until we acquired partnership and raised our printing technology to near their level. This took place in 1977.
One of the things that we had tried before 1977 was to write a serial about a teenaged Belizean couple. Searching for a story in our 1975 archives, I found that the very first weekly version of that serial had been published in the AMANDALA issue of Friday, May 30, 1975.
I thought long and hard about reproducing that first serial version of “Ros’lin.” You’re talking about more than 46 years ago, so the generation of Belizeans who were digging on Ros’lin and Dorian would be grandparents and great grandparents today, and probably no longer in Belize. They would no longer be interested in young love.
It is easier to focus on morality when you are older, of course, because your hormones are not as powerful. So, in looking at a couple of the Ros’lin serials, I thought that one’s perspective on life is quite different when you are young and fueled by these hormones.
Eventually, I decided to reproduce the serial column in which Rosalind Williams was introduced to our readers in May of 1975. I hope you enjoy. Here goes.
ROS’LIN
Rosalind Williams was dark and comely, as it is written in the Songs of Solomon, and she was young, just graduated from high school at age 17 with R.S.A. qualifications already in shorthand and typing. She had heard the talk that it was hard for a girl with dark skin to get a secretarial job unless she had strings or was prepared to do things. But her hair was curly and somewhat soft, so maybe that would help her.
Anyway, it was no big thing. She was in the full flush of the beauty of youth without a care in the world. Different graduation parties were still going on all over town, and she was like a princess in all the American clothes her mother had sent her for graduation.
Tonight there was one being held on Dean Street. That must be Robert at the door now, come to take her out. It was, and she went inside to finish arranging. Aunt June, her favorite aunt, had given her an expensive bottle of perfume for graduation, and she was definitely going to use it tonight to see how weak she could make Robert become.
“Robert, come pull up my zip,” she called to him.
He came through the bedroom door hesitantly, looking around.
“Granny isn’t here, you fool. Kiss me.” She was kissing him and turning to haul him down on the bed. Robert resisted, knowing from experience that Rosalind was beginning something she would not let him finish. But the girl was too fresh and lovely, all flesh and curves and bounce in his hands, and they were rolling on the bed in their party clothes when she screamed quietly,”Get up; my granny is coming. Play like you are fixing my zip.”
Poor Robert. Granny was coming through the front door and if he turned to greet her, as he should, Granny would see in exactly what type of agitated condition he was.
“Fix the zip and stop rubbing against me, you fool,” hissed Rosalind. Granny came up right behind him and offered to help him with the zip. She knew her granddaughter, and had a pretty good idea of what had been going on and what was happening to Robert.
Well, young Robert spun around from Rosalind past Gran and through the door so quick to save face, Rosalind could not help but smile to herself. Granny’s face was serious, but in her mind she thought, this Jezebel of a Rosalind will meet her match one of these days.
“Gran, powder my face for me,” pleaded Rosalind with an innocent look in her large eyes. Gran shook her head slowly, but picked up the powder. In truth, Rosalind had her soft too. She loved the child. Everybody loved Rosalind.