Leaving Jamaica, no choice

I was woken up early, given my breakfast this was fried dumplings, flour and water made into a ball and fried in hot oil. I also had a large mug of hot chocolate. I didn’t realise that I wouldn’t see my family again for many years . My mother in law (mama g) dressed me in my Sunday best, I didn’t understand what was going on. I was six years and five months old. I remember my father rushing and I remembered one of my brothers sitting in the car, he looked really sad. I still didn’t understand, I saw suitcases and boxes in the car, my father was also in his Sunday best it was rather exciting, but also confusing. but no one said anything. I knew I was going “Dam England”, but I thought everyone in the car was coming. there was the driver, my father my brother, my step mother. Throughout the journey I tried to play with my brother but he was so so sad. Then the unthinkable happened, my father dropped my brother off. I remember him running holding his hat on his head with one hand, behind the car until his figure became smaller and smaller in the distance. I carried on peering out the back window. Then I heard my father say to the driver. “He loves honey so much” he is going to miss her. (Yes that’s the nickname I said I would tell you about). Did I see my brother again, well the story gets worse, but I will get to this much later.. I turned around and started looking at the palm trees and the rivers, the birds the people; it was like somewhere deep in my tiny mind I knew I wasn’t coming back. I remember specifically passing some hills they were huge and very white. This was a memory I kept all my life, the miserable and sad journey to the Kingston airport. We arrived at the airport and everyone stepped out in silence they took out my bags, and there was many people, Kingston airport was so busy, I was scared when I saw the “big Bird” for the first time, and it had a mouth and people were going up the stairs they were being gobbled up. I was scared. I held onto my fathers trousers leg. I saw my dad was crying. Why is he letting me go, and who are these people? Why doesn’t my father have bags? Why am I the only one with a suitcase? My heart is beating and legs feel weak as the pretty “white” lady came towards me. I was shocked as I have never seen a white person before. I thought she was an angel. My father gave her my hand but I snatched it back, I wanted to run away but there was nowhere to go. She was a nice lady and she took me from my dad. I was crying, my dad was crying she led me to a far place and I walked up the steps with her, I wouldn’t look back, we walked up into the big bird and the nice lady told me to wave to the crowd. I didn’t want to. She told me to wave and I replied “I can’t see anyone” she said just wave” but I remember feeling spiteful and I didn’t, I remember feeling hatred for the first time and anger, and most of all I felt alone. When I sat down I regretted not waving to my father. I started to cry. image I travelled on a B.O.A.C, now British Airways,  airplane to England and I made sure I clocked that name. I  Found out years later it was the old British Airways.   I sat with a boy my age, I wonder how he is now, we had the most fun swapping seats and looking out the window.  I forgot about the sadness I felt. I remember it was a long journey to England because we slept on the plane. I remember going *wee* in the toilet in the plane and thought it would drop out the sky. When we arrived in England the sadness came back, I was told my mother whom I did not know would meet me. I was scared, angry, frightened, helpless. I desperately wanted my father… Then I saw her a short slim lady with curly hair and I felt fear….I was six years and five months old and little did I know that my life had begun…

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