Kwame McPherson
One of the most beautiful things about Jamaica is looking at its lush green agriculture from on high as the plane emerges from the clouds and descends, seeking to land on this emerald isle of the Caribbean.
A sparkling sunshine adds to the mysticism creating a backdrop of hues and colours - a magnificence that takes ones breath away. To add to this renowned beauty is the brilliance of the crystal blue Caribbean Sea. White surf lapping the beaches, rugged rocks and mangroves, the mirrored-like opaqueness, a wonderful reflection of the same sky one flies through; this island, a mirad of colours, a mixture of textures. On my travels this sight never seizes to amaze and capture me, reinforced by the joyous clapping of returning patriots as soon as the plane touches terra-firma. And yet when I do land and eventually interact with various types of people, whether professional or otherwise – they all want to leave. This has made me wonder why, what is their reality that even today forces them to consider leaving such a beautiful and mystical place. I migrated at an early age to Jamaica, with my father and brother, after the failure of his and my mother's marriage. Honestly I can say that most of my early English memories have been lost and only a few remain. Sometimes I glimpse myself being in school (wearing the inevitable short pants, socks and sandals), playing with my brother, watching my sister learn how to ride a bicycle and my most significant memory of hiding under the kitchen table as my parents fought each other. Obviously, London’s dark and grey weather was not my only unhappy memory, since my few pictures would return stark and unwelcoming. It also seemed the weather added to my emotional burden of being unhappy. It was only later in adult life, did I realise that absorbing a new way of
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