Jamaican Gal

Introduction

Hey Sandra, ya want ya peanuts? My greedy big brother Kevin didn’t even bother to wait for me to answer. He was already pouring the salty nuts into the palm of his hand.

Yeah me want dem! Bwai, why ya eatin me food?

He ignored me and kept dropping my peanuts into his big mouth. Well ya talk too slow, he answered, shaking the remaining nuts out of the bag into his hand.

Bwai, ya just too greedy fa me, I told him. I wanted to take those last few nuts and shove them up his nostrils, but I didn’t. Kevin was much bigger than me and I knew that that would not be a fight I would win.

Wat eva ya say, gal. He threw the now empty bag at me.

Ya betta stop before me tell dada on ya, I told him softly.

Please! Gal, ya too scared to even talk to ‘im! He was referring to our father, who was sitting across the aisle in the same row of the plane.

No, I not, I said, poking him in the shoulder.

So do it den, he dared me.

I looked over at my brother slouching down in his chair. Kevin was twelve and almost five feet seven inches tall. He was lanky with a head full of short, curly hair that he inherited from our grandmother. It was the kind that everyone always called good hair. With his mocha complexion and deep, milk chocolate eyes, the girls were already chasing after him.

I, on the other hand, was a plain Jane. I was short, dark and had the shape of a stick. I’m talking no curves! Unlike my brother, the hair on my head looked more like a very large Brillo pad. Our facial structure was the same, but I knew that beauty was not a word that one would use to describe me.

I turned to look at the man that was sitting in the seat across from us. He was a tall, burly man. His hair was dark and sprinkled with gray. His dark eyes were shadowed by long thick eyelashes, underneath bushy eyebrows. He was staring straight ahead. Even in his silent, calm posture, he intimidated me. I looked back over at Kevin. He had a smug smile on his face. He knew full well that he was right. I was way too scared to talk to our father.

So ya gonna do it ar not?

Hush up, Kevin, I hissed.

See, gyal, me tell ya. Ya too scared to say anyting! He laughed softly at me.

So ya say someting to him den, big mon, I dared him.

Me neva said me was gonna tell him nuttin, Miss Tattle Tail.

Oh just be quiet! I was getting frustrated, and he knew it.

My father looked over at us. Everything okay?

Fine, we said in unison.

Are you two excited about going to America? he asked, smiling over at us.

Yeah, Kevin answered.

Sandra? He looked directly at me, since I had not answered his question. How about you?

Ah guess so, I mumbled, looking down at my lap.

I know you’re both a little scared right now because you’re going to a new country. But believe me, you gonna love it there! Your two brothers are very excited about meeting you both.

He was trying to reassure us, but I wasn’t so sure. At that moment I felt totally lost and alone. There I was, a thousand miles up in the sky on an airplane for the very first time, with a man I’d only met a few weeks ago. We were leaving my home in Jamaica to begin a whole new life in America. I was more than scared. I was petrified! But I’m sure you’re wondering how this happened, right? Well, bear with me while I get you up to speed.

Part I

A Land Of Milk And Honey…

Chapter One

For as long as I can remember, I have always lived with my grandmother in a little town called Clarendon. There were about a million other relatives that lived with us, but I didn’t mind. I kinda liked living in a large family. It meant there was always someone to play with.

We lived in the country. Just about every man there farmed their land for a living, while the women stayed home caring for the house and children. The houses were not fancy looking. They were made of either wood or cement, and had zinc siding and roofs. A wooded area surrounded our house along with a bunch of fruit trees. There were orange trees, mango trees, and our beloved guava tree that grew right at the entrance way of our property. We spent hours climbing it, and picking its exotic fruit to make guava jelly.

Around the back in the yard right next to the chicken coop was the ackee and guinep tree. We barely had to step out the doorway to reach and pick our fill of fresh fruits. We were literally surrounded by an open market of fresh fruits and vegetables.

The land around our house was grassy and green. There were lots of trees. My brother, cousins and I spent numerous afternoons running around like crazy. We climbed the trees and used them as a jungle gym. My grandmother used to say we ran around like chickens with their heads cut off.

We all lived in the big house with three bedrooms, and we were the basic happy family. The family consisted of my grandmother, grandfather, Aunt Joanne, Uncle Herb, Cousin Cat, Cousin Cecil, Cousin Marsha, Cousin Anne, Cousin David, my brother Kevin, and me, Sandra. And then there was Tiny Tim, John boy and... Just kidding!

Now I know after mentioning all those people the house doesn’t sound that big, but believe me when I say we used every room. Yeah, mon, we used all the bedrooms and the living room. If we’d had a bathroom in the house, there would definitely have been someone sleeping in the tub. Yep, ya heard me, mon, all those people and not a bathroom in the house. Instead we used an outhouse that was about thirty feet from the house. At nighttime we used a metal pail called a chimney so we wouldn’t have to walk around outside in the dark. What? You thought we just copped a squat wherever we wanted?

It was the year of 1981, life in the West Indies remained untouched by modern day conveniences. Electrical appliances were non-existent, since we didn’t even have electricity at the time. Everything we ate was picked and prepared on a daily basis. We smoked large quantities of meat to keep it from spoiling. The only way to get hot water was to boil it over the wood-burning stove, after carrying it from the main pipe located midway between all the homes in the area. Because it took so much time and fuel, we took our baths in cold water. There was no such thing as a television or radio. We entertained ourselves by reading or telling stories in front of the slow burning kerosene lamp.

Our mornings began at about six o’clock when all of us kids were dragged out of bed. We lugged our sleepy butts out to the yard to get water to brush our teeth and wash our faces. Then the boys went off with the men to plow the fields, plant seeds, pick fruits, and milk the cows and goats. The girls stayed home to empty the chimneys and make the beds. Then we would get on our hands and knees, using these little brushes, and buff the front halls until the wood shined. We did all of this before going to school everyday.

When we finished our morning chores, we would then go to our makeshift bathtub behind the kitchen, and wash up. Once we were clean and dressed, we sat down to a bowl of cornmeal porridge and if we were lucky a warm slice of hard dough bread spread with butter or guava jelly.

After breakfast we would all be off to school, which was about a two-mile hike from our home. Halfway to school there was a steep hill that we would always have fun racing down. We hated the return trip though. That hill was no fun to hike back up.

For the most part we would leave for school on time, but for some reason we were always late. Now if you know like I know, back in those days tardiness was not tolerated. If you dared to come in late the teachers would line you up and whack you in the palm of your hand with a wooden ruler. I remember getting hit in the hand so much and so hard one time that it turned cherry red. When I got home and showed my grandmother I thought she was going to rip the teacher a new one, mad as she was.

But that’s okay though because another time when I was late and in line for my spanking the teacher turned away briefly. When he did, I put my hand over my eyes and became actress of the year. I walked away from the line crying like my dog died and the teacher never caught on. I had to almost run into my classroom, resisting the urge to laugh my butt off for fooling him. Lucky for me he never found out and told my grandmother about my performance.

I guess by now you're wondering where my mother and father were during all this. Well, hold on a minute and I’ll tell you all about it.

Chapter Two

I didn’t meet my father until I was ten. I remember my grandmother telling Kevin and me that he was the one who sent money and things like clothing and food in these really huge barrels ever so often. She once explained that my father left when I was a baby to go to the United States in search of roads paved with gold and flowing with milk and honey. I used to wonder if such a place existed. Can you image walking through all that mess? And who would want all that milk and honey after every one has had their dirty feet in it? Not me, thank you very much!

Grandma would also tell us that one day he would come back and take us with him. I guess I always thought it may have been interesting to visit somewhere else, but I knew I would definitely want to return home to my grandma. Though she may not have given birth to me, she was like mom and dad all rolled into one. I never wanted to leave her. Okay, okay, maybe I’m exaggerating a little. There is another person that I would have given anything to live with.

I love my mother more than words could ever say. I must admit that most of my memories of her are somewhat blurry. The last time I saw her I was about seven, but I always dreamed of being with her. Now don’t get me wrong, I really did love and appreciate my grandmother. I just would have loved to have been able to be with my mom. What made it worse was I never really understood why I didn’t live with her to begin with, and my grandmother never explained it to me. I always thought a house should have a mother, father and the kids in it. Isn’t that the way it was suppose to be?

My mother lived in St. Catherine, with my older brother Damon, my little sister Camille, and her mother. Damon was about twelve. He was my half-brother since my mother had him before she met my father. Camille was the baby. Mom had her after my father left for the States. I always wondered why my little sister never lived with Kevin and me at Granny’s.

Ever so often mom would come and get my brother and me and bring us to stay with her for a little while. I don’t think I ever remember us staying in the same place when we visited her. They were always moving around. I remember once she picked us up with one of her male friends. She didn’t take us to where she lived that time. Instead we drove around all day and slept in a motel room later that night. We didn’t even get to see Damon and Camille on that visit.

Another time she came and got us and we stayed with one of her friends who had a tire swing in the front yard. I know it’s stupid to mention the tire swing, but it was the one thing that really sticks out in my mind because I had so much fun playing on it. That trip was fun, especially since we got to see Damon and Camille. The four of us had the best time playing together.

My mother was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. She had smooth skin the color of coco butter. She wore her shoulder length hair in these long twists that weren’t quite dreads. They used to swing to and fro whenever she moved sometimes falling into her face, and covering up her petite, button nose and full, red lips. She always had a smile on her face, and tossed her head back when she laughed. When I was with her I imitated everything she did right down to spraying myself with the rosewater and coconut fragrance she wore.

The last time we visited my mother, she was living in a nice apartment. It was the first time she’d had a place of her own. It was a reddish-brown one level flat, and several people rented there. It wasn’t actually an apartment, but rather a bunch of one bedrooms attached together, with a bathroom on the side of the building and a shared kitchen. My mother rented two rooms right next to each other, and all of us kids slept in one, while she and my grandmother slept in the other.

On this last visit we stayed longer than usual. I remember this because we actually went to school while we were with her and that was something we’d never done before. For a while, I thought we were going to stay for good. Even though I would have missed my grandma, I always hoped we would stay. I got used to the routine of living with her.

Every morning she would get us all up and dressed. Did I mention that we didn’t have the kind of morning chores like we did at my grandmother’s in the country. That was another reason I really enjoyed living with my mother. After breakfast she would walk us to school. I used to love that, but when it was time for her to go to work, it felt like a tragic event. I guess you could say that when it came to my mother I was kinda clingy. I would begin to panic as if I thought she was never coming back. It always made me feel good when she would come back and give me an extra hug, and reassure me that I’d see her after she got off work.

Once I got to school, the day dragged like a snail trying to crawl through extra thick molasses. I would sit in my classroom feeling so frightened and longing for her presence. I felt like a fish out of water, struggling to breathe and adapt to my new environment.

My classroom was large with three small rectangle windows on the back wall. On the front wall was a large blackboard, while the sidewalls were covered with the students’ artwork and exams. There were six rows of desks running the length of the room and they were placed very close together. Because of this, our plump, aging teacher had to scoot down the aisles sideways. All the kids snickered when she did this because her ample backside raised her skirt at least three inches higher in the back. I ignored it all. I sat there waiting impatiently until it was time to go home and for Damon to come get me. That always brought a smile to my face because I knew we’d see Mom.

On the way home the four of us would wander all over the neighborhood getting into all sorts of trouble. When I got home, I would sometimes go and play dolls with the little girl from across the street. Of course, as soon as I knew my mother would be home, I rushed off.

On the days we didn’t have to go to school and my mother was at work, her mother watched us. Now forgive me for saying this, but to me, she was a totally crazy bitch! She was part Indian and had the prettiest, long, silky, black hair but that was the only nice thing about her.

My grandmother Sophie only had one leg, and was bedridden. Because she couldn’t get up so easily, she used to keep this really long stick next to her bed to get us if we were bad. Ouch that thing used to hurt! She also used to tie us by the hands with a rope to the foot of the bed. I kid you not, that woman had some serious issues going on. She was definitely nothing like my Grandmother Louise back a yard (back home). But regardless of the mess that I had to go through with my crazy grandmother, I didn't care because at least I was with my mother and I was happy.

After several weeks of living there, I had gotten used to seeing my mother every day. I can’t even begin to describe how it felt the day she packed up Kevin and me, and took us back to our grandmother in the country. I was so upset that I couldn’t stop crying. I remember her taking me for a walk to try and calm me down. This crying thing was a regular thing with me every time she brought us back. But this was different. She’d never taken me for a walk before. Maybe if I had any sense I would have known that this was the last time I would see her.

We ended up next to the tangerine tree in the woods. It was slightly dark as the sun played hide and seek among the crowded vegetation. The tree was filled with bright orange fruit and the citrus bouquet permeated the air around us. Normally my mouth would have been watering at the thought of plucking a delicious piece of fruit. But at that moment it was all I could do not to throw-up the beef patty and sorrel I’d had for lunch.

I stood there on the soft, dampened earth, poking my naked toes into the soil trying hard to stop crying, but I couldn’t. Mammy, me want to stay wit ya, I told her.

Ah will be back soon to see ya, she said to me.

Why kan’t me live wit ya?

Dat’s just not possible right now. Sandra, hear me now, ah will be back soon. Me a mek a promise to ya.

Me no understand why wi hafta stay ere. Ya no love me an mi bradda no more? Tears were streaming down my face as I talked.

Now ya know dat is not so. Me fulla nutten but love fa di two a ya. Me just haf some tings ah need to work out. Hush now, baby girl. Stop all dis bawling. Ya gonna haf so much fun with your cousins, ya won’t even miss me. She hugged me tightly.

The tears wouldn’t stop. I just couldn’t believe she was leaving again. Here we were beginning to get comfortable with our new living arrangement and then poof it's taken away from us without any explanation.

When I still didn’t quiet down, she lifted my chin and looked me in the eye. Just know dis, Sandra. Ah will be back to get ya real soon.

When? I asked hopefully.

As soon as ah work tings out. Me gonna make some plans fi all of us.

Needless to say I believed her because she’d always come back before. My brother and I returned to our lives on the farm, and waited for the next time our mother would come to take us for a visit.

To this day when I think back to that time, I wonder if she left because I was too clingy when I was with her. Maybe if I had just given her some breathing room things would have worked out differently. Maybe if I hadn’t been so damn needy I would be with her right now. I keep thinking of what I would have done differently. But I was only seven at the time, so all I knew to do was cry and beg.

It was hard at first when we got back to the country. For the first time I really didn’t want to be there, even if it was only supposed to be for a short time. My grandmother had to take the belt to my behind more than once because I had a seriously nasty attitude towards everyone there. She would always say how much she loved me and didn’t want to have to spank my butt, but she wasn’t going to take being talked back to by a child.

A whole year went by and then another, and still no word from my mother. I didn’t know what to think. She’d never stayed away this long before. I blamed myself for her not coming back. I figured that she was tired of all the crap I’d put her through. I wish I could have told her how sorry I was for crying all the time. I really would have tried to be a better child if she would have given me another chance. I wondered why I had to be such a bad kid that my own mother didn’t want to be around me.

Finally one day we had a visitor, but it wasn’t her. It was my father. I was ten years old, almost a young lady by then. You grew up fast in those days. At first I didn’t know if I was happy to see him or not, but everyone else was. They were all so excited by his mere presence, especially my older cousin Marsha. She followed behind him everywhere he went.

I didn’t understand it. To me he was just some man coming to visit from somewhere far, who spoke really funny and really fast. I didn’t know this man from Adam. At first I wouldn’t pay him any mind. I went about my daily routine as though he wasn’t even there.

He would approach me and try to strike up a conversation, but I always found a reason to leave. After doing my disappearing act for a couple of days, my grandmother sat me down and told me that I should try to be nicer to him because he was my father. I would never tell my grandmother no to anything she told me to do, so I promised her that I would try to be nicer to him.

After three days, Marsha was still following behind him like a little puppy. At first I could have cared less, but when I noticed him paying her attention and playing with her, I started feeling a little jealous of the attention he was showing to her. After all he was my father, right? I began to want his attention, but I was too afraid to approach him. What if he turned out to be like my mother? Would he make promises too and not keep them?

My thoughts scattered. Did I really want to get close to another parent who, for whatever reason, didn’t have me living with them? What if I became attached to him too and he went away? And he lived farther away from me than my mother did. My uncle had told me that for my father to get here he had to ride in an airplane. The closest I had ever been to one of those things was watching it fly over my head, way up in the sky. If he left, how would I see him?

Slowly I began to spend time with him and tried to get to know him. It was a little scary at first being around this strange man. Most times it was hard to understand what he was saying because he really did talk fast! He would tell me about his life in America, and about his wife and kids that lived there with him. After a while I found myself enjoying the time we began to spend together.

My Granddad died a few days after my father arrived. I’ll never forget that day. Granny had gotten up that morning like she normally did to make Granddad a cup of tea. I remember running around the house as I always did. Sometimes I would go in and out their room, trying to be quiet and not wake him. On that particular morning, I remember seeing him lying in the bed peacefully. I just thought he was sleeping. I tried my best not to make too much noise and I didn’t jump in the bed like I normally did.

When granny came back into the house and tried to wake him, he wouldn’t wake up. I was sitting on the floor playing with my paper dolls when she told me to go get my uncle. I didn’t think anything unusual about it, and got up to do as she said. When my uncle came to see what she wanted I came back with him. He went over to the bed and tried to wake his father up. I remember wondering why my grandfather was so tired that no one was able to wake him.

Then I overheard my uncle telling my grandmother that granddad was dead. Granny fell across my grandfather’s chest sobbing. I sat there terrified. I had never seen my grandmother cry before. She had always been so strong and I was witness to the shattering of her strength. It was hard for me to understand. In my immature mind, only kids cried, not adults.

My uncle noticed me sitting on the floor looking scared and he told me to go play outside. I remember running out of the room and into the woods. I stayed there most of the day until my brother found me hiding. By the look on his face I knew that he knew what had happened.

Granddad was the first dead person I ever saw. Back then no one came and got the body; the doctor just came to check it. I guess to make sure he was really dead. There was no such thing as a morgue to take the body to, and no funeral home to make the burial arrangements. The family did everything.

The men dug a hole, which was about ten feet from the house. The women prepared the body. My aunt and older cousin helped my grandmother to clean and dress him in his Sunday suit. I had heard my aunt say that granddad had wet himself, which I thought was really strange at the time.

The very next day Granddad’s casket was set out on the front veranda, and all the people that knew him came to see him. Towards the end of the viewing, the men did the traditional lifting of the children that were related to the deceased. Two men would stand on either side of the casket and one would pick up each of us children and pass us over the casket to the other man. I didn’t know why they were doing that so you know I screamed my head off. After the funeral my Aunt Joanne explained that they’d done that to keep my grandfather’s duppy (ghost), from coming back to play with the children.

A few days later, I knew something was wrong. My father had been there for almost two weeks. My grandmother was still having a hard time dealing with my granddaddy being gone, but she seemed gloomier than usual. Granny had changed. Some of the life in her seemed to have disappeared.

One day I noticed that she was packing my brother’s and my clothing in a brand new suitcase. I found out that we were leaving to go live with our father. I figured we’d stay about as long as we had with our mother, but the amount of things she was packing made it seem as though we were not coming back. Kevin and I wondered what was going on, but I guess being ten and twelve, the grown-ups felt no need to consult us about their decision.

In the days that followed, my father took us to a lot of different places to get us ready to leave with him. We went to May Pen, the business district in Jamaica, where we had all these different pictures taken and we were fingerprinted. We had to get several check-ups by doctors. They poked and prodded us, and then gave us a lot of different shots. I remember Kevin leaning over the garbage can and throwing up after getting his shots. You know I had to tease him about that weak stomach of his. Then of course I stayed away from him the rest of the day.

It was a few days before we were supposed to be leaving and neither my brother nor I was shouting for joy over this new development. The idea of going for a visit was scary enough, but going to live with our father forever, left me wanting to go somewhere to hide until he left. I was sitting on the veranda when I saw my grandmother and father going into her bedroom and closing the door. As soon as they closed the door, I crept up and pressed my ear to the door so that I could hear what they were talking about. The only way we ever found out anything was to eavesdrop because the grow-ups felt that since we were kids, they didn’t have to explain anything or ask what we wanted.

Alvin, ya sure ya ready to take on de responsibility of two small kids? asked my grandmother.

Ma, ya haf taken care of dem just about dem whole life. Me need to take care of my own kids now. Besides, I’m married now, and Geraldine is looking forward to meeting them. She wants to help to take care of my kids. Now that dadda is gone. He paused.

Wat, ya tink me some kinda old woman who kan’t take care of dem? She sounded offended.

No, Ma, Ya are de strongest person ah know, he replied. But dis house is full. Ma, me know dese are my relative and all, but dem need to start moving on to makes lives of dere own.

Ya are all my children. Ah would neva throw any of ya outta me house.

I know, Ma, it’s just dat ya don’t need all dis stress right now. Herb is a 40 year-old grown mon. Him need to get a wife and make a life of him own. And what about Joanne an her three kids? Me know dat dem is me bradda and sista, but dem not ask fa ya to help dem temporarily. Dem a settled in and haf no intention of finding dem own place. Me tank ya from de bottom of me heart for caring fa my kids, especially after everything that happened between me and dem madda. But I woulda neva ask ya to take care of dem on a permanent basis. Me is a grown mon who knows dat him haf to take care of him responsibilities. Me just want dem to do de same.

Alvin, stop please. Ya haf told me all dis already. Me know how you feel about de situation. Me know, mon. But beating me to death about it will not change mi mind.

Ah know, but every time me sent down a barrel an money fa ya, dada an my kids, ya end up having to stretch it fa eleven people insteada four.

Dat’s enough, Alvin! When granny spoke like that it was the end of the conversation, and even my father knew that.

Sorry, Ma. Ah didn’t mean to upset ya. It’s just dat wit dad gone ah worry bout you.

Alvin, ah know dat, her tone softened. You, your kids, and everyone else in dis house is welcome to stay. Ya know dat me make sure dat dem all contribute to de household. De farm, dis whole house needs up keeping and dem all help out. So let’s end dis conversation ere okay. Come on, me wanna fix ya some ackee, salt fish an dumpling. Me know ya kan’t get any real Jamaican food in de States.

I tink you just said the magic words, Ma. And just so you know, I know what you are doing. Dodging the situation won’t make it go away, but me will leave the subject alone. You know it’s just cause I love you and want to make sure you are doing okay.

Me love you to, so stop worrying your head off over me so.

Okay, Ma. Now about this meal, can I wash it down with some Ting(grapefruit soda)? he asked.

Me no even tink we haf anymore of dat stuff around ere. But me just made some fresh sorrel this morning.

Sounds good to me, he said with a smile.

Alvin, hear me now,’ she said, stopping him as he walked towards the door. Me know dat ya can give de kids more dan we haf ere, ah guess me just got use to seeing dem everyday. Me a go miss dem ya know."

Me know, Ma. Thank you for taking such good care of dem. After wat dere madda did...

Chapter Three

For the next couple of days my grandmother continued to go through all our things and picked out our best clothes to pack. My brother and I were both trying to adjust to the fact that we were really leaving. I still found it hard to believe that we were not coming back. I made a promise to myself that as soon as I was all grown up and had a big house, I was going to invite my granny to come and live with me. I was sure that she would love to live in the place with all that free milk and honey. But I still didn’t want to think about all that. The biggest thing on my mind was my mother. How would she ever find us if we went so far away? I went to my grandmother hoping that she would have some answers for me. She was still packing clothes up for our departure when I knocked on the door.

Granny? I stood at the door.

Sandra, come ova ere child. She patted the spot next to her on the bed.

I rushed over to her, and planted my body as close as possible, seeking her warmth and comfort. Everyone always referred to my grandmother as a sturdy, handsome woman. Her face wore the years of her hard work, and her skin resembled worn leather. She was a thick woman with a healthy bosom, who could work alongside any man plowing in the fields.

I rested my head on her shoulder, and confessed my fears. Me no wanna go wid him. Mammy a come back soon, fa me an me bradda. Wat if wi not ere when she come back?

My grandmother shook her head slowly. Hear me now, child. Almost three years done gone by, an she no show up yet.

But she a comin’ back. She promise!

My grandmother has never been one to mince words. And wat if she no show up? she asked me.

She promised me, I said, looking into her eyes.

If she does come, den me will tell her where you gone, and she can get in touch wit ya.

I hugged her tightly. I knew she was telling me the truth. But no matter what she said, I still didn’t want to leave. Me no wanna leave ya.

Dis is a good ting, Sandra. Ah won’t be ere forever, an in America you an your bradda will haf many, many great opportunities.

I shook my head stubbornly. Me no care about dat.

She grabbed my face between her hands and stared into my eyes. Her voice was stern. You betta care, Sandra! Dere is a big world out dere. Living upon de farm, ya haf neva gotten de chance to see wat is out dere. Dere are so many different tings dat ya can do if ya set your mind to it. Grab hold, me dear, and take advantage of everyting dat is offered to ya. Believe me, ya won’t regret it.

Tears stung my eyes. All I could do was nod my head because my throat was too tight to speak.

Ya make sure ya write and let me know how ya are doing. You hear me?

Yea, I whispered.

Now stop de bawling, wipe ya tears, and help me out. When ya get to America ya will neva believe dat at one time ya did not wanna be dere, she told me with a reassuring smile.

Yes, Granny. I wiped my eyes, swallowed the rest of my unshed tears, and did as she told me.

The day we left was the saddest day of my life. When my father had arrived more than three weeks ago, he had come in a rusty, brown sedan. Now on the day that we were to leave, the same old, dirty sedan came to take us to the airport. I watched from the veranda as the car slowly rolled up the gravel road and then stopped in front of our house. I was surprised the vehicle could move at all. It looked like it had seen more years than it cared to remember.

When it was time to leave, everyone kissed and hugged my brother and me. My feet felt as if they were stuck in concrete blocks as I walked to the car. One would have thought I was a condemned person going to meet my maker. I couldn’t help it. I wasn’t ready. I would never be ready. I didn’t want to go!

As we piled into the car and got ready to leave, I kept telling myself that we would be back soon. I was trying to convince myself that we were only going for a short visit. That way it wouldn’t keep hurting so much. I watched teary eyed as the car began to move, and the house that I’d spent the first ten years of my life disappeared from sight. It was too much to handle. I felt as thought I couldn’t breathe. My father reached over to touch my shoulder, but I jerked away as if I’d been burned by fire. Instead I moved as close to my brother as I could. When he placed his arm around me, I cried until I couldn’t cry anymore. When I finished, I sat there, staring blankly out of the window, my eyes red, and swollen. I watched as everything I loved passed me by.

After about an hour of driving, we had left the country and began to see a part of Jamaica that we never knew existed. There were nice houses and stores, with people going about their daily routine. The large leaves of banana and coconut trees by the roadside swayed gently in the wind almost as if biding me farewell.

As we continued, we came upon some children playing cricket in the street. The driver stopped and we waited for the street to clear. I watched as the children hit the ball and laughed with glee, trying to run back and forth before the ball could be retrieved. They were so care free, just as I had been. They didn’t have to worry about being ripped from the safety of the only place they called home. They were safe, and knew that tomorrow they would be playing in that same dusty road.

We finally reached what my father told us was called an airport. There were lots of people walking around. They were talking and laughing with each other, and when they spoke, I could barely understand them. By the way they looked and dressed, it was obvious that they were tourists. Now that their visit was over, they were returning home. I wished I were going home too.

Kevin and I stuck very close together, taking in the whole scene around us. Even though he usually tried to act big and brave, I could tell that he was scared too. While my father