Morning has broken… I was woken up with the lady they called my mother singing a church song.. The smell of fried dumplings, flour made with water and fried in hot oil, sizzling in the kitchen. I felt hungry. I was told to wash my hands and face and come for breakfast. I remember eating the food because I was hungry but there was a knot in my stomach. I hated everything about this place. We ate in almost silence, I wasn’t allowed to speak while eating and to be honest I had nothing to say. When I finished I was ordered to wash the plates. I remember feeling a pain in my chest, as I grew older I knew this was what we call grief. I did not know anyone in this country. I had no friends and I was very afraid of the lady they called my mother. I settled into a life of misery there were no smiles, the lady they called my mother was very religious and everything related to the bible. I was the evil one and I was filled with the devil and it need to be rid of by prayers.
One-day I was summoned to her room I was beaten for stealing her butterfly soap. Ironically they were my soap. My grandmother gave them to me as a gift for England, they were yellow, pink and blue butterfly soap, exact replica curtesy of google amazing, But I certainly did not take them. How could I?, I was absolutely terrified of the lady they called my mother. Nevertheless, I was beaten and warned never to touch anything in the house that did not belong to me. I swore that night that I never would, I was a prisoner and she was the guard.
We lived in one room the lady and me, we slept in the same bed the lady and me, but there was hardly any communication between the lady and me. I recall our communication was in reading the bible. I had to read a verse from the bible every single day. Religion was now a part of my world. However, what I found enjoyable was reading and that was because my father taught me to read and write in Jamaica; there were no words in the world that I could not read or spell. I read each word in the bible with pride hoping that she would praise me for being a clever girl but it never happened. I never understood what I was reading about half the time, especially as I was reading the King James Bible.
I don’t believe she knew that children my age could not read as well as me. She saw my reading as normal this saddened me but I continued to read anything I could; my books were my friends she had various books in the house, and I would hide myself in the characters.
Tomorrow tomorrow, I love you tomorrow you are always a day away…..