I came across a letter this morning that was written to me about seven and a half years ago. It was a personal letter, the only letter I have ever received from that particular friend. As I read it again, I was taken back to that time. I had just moved to Jamaica, gas was $24 per litre and much of whom I now am was still yet to be learned and discovered. How fitting that I should find it now, when my stay in this foreign nation is fast at its conclusion.
It was handwritten and beautiful and I couldn't stop reading it. I remembered the apartment I used to live in and the grumpy, "flatulent" landlord. I remembered the cute Indian girl next door and how the only time since then I'd seen her was at a play featuring Med Students (she should be a doctor by now!). I remembered that Micheal Jackson's "You Are My Life" was my theme song for months and how every time I hear that song I remember Trudi Wynter(ah she buss mi pon it).
I remembered how much I didn't want to be in Jamaica despite how eager I had been at the prospect of leaving home. I remembered my reason for always wanting to go home and considered how time has changed those motivations. I remembered taking the bus at 6:30 in the morning to avoid the rush hour packed buses that were all too reminiscent of slave ships and the middle passage.
I remembered how we never really went anywhere for sheer crippling fear. I remembered how afraid I was to join the choir at church and how excited I was when I did.
And the memories continued to come, all the way up to and through University. Every other time I've had to, it's been an absolute joy to abandon Jamaica for the familiar sounds, sight and feelings of home. This time, although this is not the last time I will leave Jamaica, there's a certain finality that I cannot help but feel.
I think I've finally reckoned, and rightly so, that Jamaica has made me. It's been a huge influence and will continue to be in the future. As reluctant as I am to admit it, I'm happy I was here. This place is like a fungus, it grows on you!!!
Friday, January 22, 2010
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Difficult To Complain......
I have found it incredibly difficult to complain this week; about anything. Even in my silent, solitude, while I was not quite able to grasp the true epically graphic nature of the catastrophe that Haitians have had to deal with, I imagined what I reckon was close. So I could no longer mutter to myself and the heavens how disgusted I am to still be in my current state, and geographical location for that matter.
I developed a sense of guilty empathy for some generic little boy whose mother could scarcely afford to feed them both, now sitting unharmed beside her rapidly cooling corpse. I felt his first scream resound in my ear after having recovered from the initial shock of having fallen two whole stories down, only to land unscathed amidst all the devastation around him. I saw his face that had gone from giggling to furrowed and sad in just a few brief seconds. An innocent child, unhurt but helpless, still clinging to his mother's dress and crying, unable to understand why her once bright eyes now seemed so cold and why she lay lifeless though they remained open.
I don't have much of a personal attachment to Haiti. Before Thursday I knew little about the history of the nation, apart from occasionally having heard references to L'Overture, Papa and Baby Doc and Aristide! So I decided to take a look back at the history of a people brave enough to challenge slavery and have it abolished 40 years before the rest of the Americas and to gain nationhood, long before most of our nations had even dreamed up the notion. Nothing is more evident in the account of Haitian history, masked sometimes by the ever-present corrupt government, than the pride that Haitians take in, not only, their nationhood but also the privilege it is to be Haitian
Maybe it was the stories I have read this week, maybe it's the constant news updates or the calls for donations by our telephone networks, favorite basketball players, NFL, NBA, NCAA and numerous other media affiliated entities that we are favored to enjoy. Maybe it was the insight into the resolve and pride of the Haitian people. But for some reason I found it really hard to complain that my single bed, which has become very uncomfortable, has caused me pre-mature adult back pain. In the scheme of things it seemed minute and strangely bearable; this week!!!
T.O.T.D: Always Remember That It Does Get Worse Than This.....And It Can Get Better!!!----Elias Orville Dupuis
I developed a sense of guilty empathy for some generic little boy whose mother could scarcely afford to feed them both, now sitting unharmed beside her rapidly cooling corpse. I felt his first scream resound in my ear after having recovered from the initial shock of having fallen two whole stories down, only to land unscathed amidst all the devastation around him. I saw his face that had gone from giggling to furrowed and sad in just a few brief seconds. An innocent child, unhurt but helpless, still clinging to his mother's dress and crying, unable to understand why her once bright eyes now seemed so cold and why she lay lifeless though they remained open.
I don't have much of a personal attachment to Haiti. Before Thursday I knew little about the history of the nation, apart from occasionally having heard references to L'Overture, Papa and Baby Doc and Aristide! So I decided to take a look back at the history of a people brave enough to challenge slavery and have it abolished 40 years before the rest of the Americas and to gain nationhood, long before most of our nations had even dreamed up the notion. Nothing is more evident in the account of Haitian history, masked sometimes by the ever-present corrupt government, than the pride that Haitians take in, not only, their nationhood but also the privilege it is to be Haitian
Maybe it was the stories I have read this week, maybe it's the constant news updates or the calls for donations by our telephone networks, favorite basketball players, NFL, NBA, NCAA and numerous other media affiliated entities that we are favored to enjoy. Maybe it was the insight into the resolve and pride of the Haitian people. But for some reason I found it really hard to complain that my single bed, which has become very uncomfortable, has caused me pre-mature adult back pain. In the scheme of things it seemed minute and strangely bearable; this week!!!
T.O.T.D: Always Remember That It Does Get Worse Than This.....And It Can Get Better!!!----Elias Orville Dupuis
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
