RISING UP

Being a conservative, I was born in Jamaica the most populous anglophone country in the Americas [after the United States and Canada]; it’s the fourth-most populous country in the Caribbean, with a population of about 2.9 million people. Jamaica is an island country which consists of 14 parishes. The parish of Manchester where I am from has a population of about 190,812. AS I can vividly remember, of my mother 14 children, when I was five years old my childhood home and my family life was upended as I knew it then. To be this young and have two siblings passed away [died], was very heart rending and hard to comprehend this dilemma. Why did I lose them? Why did they have to die so soon? Will they be coming back anytime soon? Whose fault it is why they are dead? Should God be blamed for such a horrible cat? If I blame God, will I die quickly also? These are some of the questions I asked my mother. She told me it was one’s fault, but this had to happen sooner or later my son. Up to this point in my life, it was the custom of some of the siblings and me to visit my other two brothers and sister from my father’s side of the family on the way from school, or after worship on Sunday morning. They lived in John’s Hall, a middle-class community, which I believed to be well kept. They had medium size yard where we run around and play hide-and-seek, hopscotch, jump rope, and shooting marbles. These playful and eventful moments ended very quickly. The mother of my three siblings would say to me, “Boy, stop the playing and go home to your mother. If you want to play, don’t play here; you can do it over there.” This she did many times to me; I was frustrated; I thought she was mean to me. Soon, I had no more desire to play in that yard. Yet was I not mean nor violent in anyway or form toward them not their mother. My mother taught me to pleasant and speak kindly to everyone. If they answer you, fine, if not, don’t you worry about. You did your part. Then there was my grandmother who lived not too far away in a five-bedroom house. We would gather there together and linger because of what she had available such as: ackees, apples, breadfruit, guinep fruit, guavas, mangos, oranges, and pear [avocados. My grandmother and my aunt would say to me, you just can’t show up here and get things all the time and don’t ask for it. Furthermore, you need to learn to work hard to attain the things you need in life. At the age of 11, I went to live with my sister, Luneth, in Adams Valley. With her caring for Mr. Joseph, my help was very vital. I stayed with them for two years and attended the Nazareth School in Maidstone. After 2 years I returned to live with my mother. She taught me how to conserve. She would say, “Don’t you allow people to control your life. Be your own man! Anything that you need, work hard for it and you will have it. I am telling you this because you are special, and you have ability to do things. You may not understand this saying now, but later you will. Listen to others, but you must have the final say in your decision.” Now, 14years old, on my way home from a half-day in school, there was Miss L. who was going in the same direction with me. She greeted me, saying, “How are you doing today, boy?” I joyfully replied, ‘I am doing fine. My father gave this pair of shoes I am wearing, and he is supposed to be coming to see me soon.’” “And who is your father?” she asked me. ‘My father’s name is Linford,’ I said. “Little buoy, hush your mouth. He is not your father; he’s your brother, she said. ‘He is my father,’ I repeated. “Hah, hah, hah, hah, hah, who’s turning you into a fool? Go home and ask your mother she will tell you. And I hope she tell you the truth, the whole truth,” she said. Being hit with these words of bricks, I ran away from her as fast as I could hastily and breathless and went to find my mama. I found her in the field. ‘Hi mommy’ I said. “How are you doing, son? she replied. ‘I am not doing too good today,’ I said. “And what is wrong, or what seem to be the problem with you? Are you hurting? Are you feeling sick?” she said. ‘I am feeling sick, mom, but not the way you are thinking. I am not hurting like that. But I am really hurting because I was talking to Miss L. about my father, Linford. She told me, “He’s not your father. He’s your brother. Go home and ask your mother. Who is turning you into a fool? ‘Is this true mama that he’s my brother and not my father? Please don’t hide it from me,’ I said to her. Mama replied, “It’s true! He’s your brother. Your father Frederick died when you were just one month old.’’ ‘And how did that happened’ I asked. “He went to the woods to get materials to make hampers to put on donkeys, to take them to the market for sale. He got soaking wet from the rain. He came home, changed his clothes, and went to lay down. We were having a conversation. I asked him a question and he didn’t respond to me. When I looked at him, I could see the white of his eyes. I opened my mouth and called out his name. Frederick, Frederick, Frederick! O God, bring back Frederick to me. Bring back Frederick to me, please God. Then he opened his eyes and said, ‘Isabell, what is it that you want. I was on my way going up a hill to my home. I heard your voice calling me, and I return to see what you need.” And after he spoke these words to me, he closed his eyes and stop breathing. He died, she said.”