THE WINDRUSH GENERATION

As part of Black History Month I had a chat with my grandson, Finn aged 10, who wrote a lovely poem last year as part of learning about the Windrush genera�on and their experience of coming to England.

I asked him how he feels about having a Jamaican nan and what it might mean for him.

He said it’s history and when his class was learning about it no one knew anything about the Windrush apart from him. He’d learned about it from his mum, dad and family.

I asked him what inspired him to write the poem and his answer was “you kind of had to” and he did it because it sounded good.

Learning about the Windrush and that period made him feel very “sad and irritated”. We then had a chat about the condi�ons that his grandparents would have experienced and the signs that compared Blacks and Irish with dogs (one of Finn’s grandads is Irish) which made me feel sad to think this has happened in my life�me.

He told his teacher about his family and then went on to write his poem when he was in Year 5.

His teacher asked him if he had anything he could share with the class about his grandparents so I gave him a copy of my mum’s original Jamaican passport, her naturalisa�on cer�ficate and her Bri�sh passport (that she never used) and she became part of another lesson on the West Indians and others who came to Britain in the 1950s and 1960s. She would have been so pleased if she was s�ll here!

Here is Finn’s poem:

Come to England Come to England Come to the motherland You will be welcomed to our wonderful countries A time to be known, a time to be seen By your majesty the queen If you show your might Lest we forget When you fight Without question without doubt We come to have a little shout We welcome you to the isle of life Whilst we fight for a loved motherland We rebuild our mother for the blood we spilt We return home with the brits spurning us She loves our kin But hates the colour of our skin The British government doesn’t feel we’re part of Britain anymore