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the year was 1973 and I was barely into my teens,I was living with my grandmother and grandfather in the country,my mother had already been in the uk.for several years.my siblings and I were all living with different relatives
.
there were two sisters,and 4 brothers including myself.the machinery for trying to get us kids to join her in the united kingdom had started at least 5 years previous,the first to get turned down was my brother,
unaccustomed to being questioned vigorously by the immigration people he said all the wrong things and gave unsatisfactory answers so they refused him entry to the united kingdom,
he was 14 at the time.nevertheless,my mother continued her efforts to get her kids to join her.
one day I received a letter out the blue stating that an appointment was made for me to attend the british high commission in kingston,I was so happy,my grandmother was estatic ,I got on the bus the very next day and headed for kingston,
for the second time in my life I was to visit kingston,my first time was on a school trip to the zoo two years previously.
I remembered walking down the path away from that pretty little board house in the country my grandmother standing there waving,crying and blowing her nose in her head scarf,I suddenly remembered my watch and made to turn back,
but with horror in her face she motioned me to stay exactly where I was,she would bring me the watch,its a jamaican superstition that you shouldnt turn back or you will be unlucky in your journey.
I set off for kingston clutching a tiny little bag with fried dumpling and bammy that granny had prepared for me.I eventually reached kingston after enough drama to fill a book,
I asked directions to the immigration building and after more drama I found myself waiting in the queue with other folks waiting for visas to britain.
eventually after what seemed a week my name was called and I found myself sitting before a white lady,she questioned me ..
or rather interrogated me regarding my situation,whyI wanted to join my mother,why this,
why that,I eventually started stammering and stumbling over my answers I was slowly developing an headache from the bombardment of questions.
she was obviously unsatisfied with my answers,she took my passport and stamped a great big.."REFUSED ENTRY"...I was gutted.
I left the building feeling as if I had just been ran over by a steam roller,my head ached,my mind was simply racing,
I was the most dissapointed I had ever been at any time previously in my life,all my dreams of ever joining my mother had just been taken away from me.
I returned to the country and to a very dissapointed granny,I felt bad for her,I was so down the following days and weeks.
however,my mother continued her efforts to get her kids to join her,
she came across lots of obstacles and beaucracy in her efforts,
everything seemed to conspire against her getting her kids to join her.
the process dragged on and on,and eventually after approaching her local member of parliament in the uk he took up her case,
and after lengthy too-ing and fro-ing with the relevant authorities she was given the good news that she could have three of the youngest children,myself,
and my two sisters.
my mother immediately booked her flight to jamaica clutching three extra tickets.
the year is 1975,and I am living in montegobay the town of my birth,I can almost remember everything I did that day,I had just returned from the beach with my best friend and entered the yard when everyone started telling me that "yu madda come fram englan"..
.I was so exited,I had not seen my mother for 10 years,they told me exitedly that my mother had arrived,and how "de lady look nice eennhh"...my mother had tire of waiting around in the yard where she didnt know anyone so she left a message that she had gone to the country to granny`s house.
my other brother was around when she arrived so he too went with her,I immediately borrowed the money for the trip to country
,but the only bus to the country had already left so I had to wait until the next day,It seemed like a whole month.
the next day I was down at montegobay market waiting for the bus to leave,I got there at 12-o-clock,the bus eventually left at two o-clock.
by the time the bus got to the country it was already dark,I stepped off the bus in the pitch darkness and proceeded to walk the 1 mile to granny`s house,
I was so exited my heart was just ready to pop out through the adrenaline going through me,
the noise of the insects in the bushes,the country smell..
.eventually I reached the botttom of the road leading up to granny`s house,I looked up at the lamplight shining through granny`s window and stood there with my boyhood memories flooding back
.my thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the incessant barking of granny`s faithful dog tarzan,
he came out barking and yapping for all his worth,
he suddenly realised it was me and his barking turned to licking and pawing at me.
the door to the house opened and everyone came out onto the verandah to see what tarzan was barking at,.......there stood my dear mother.............
I will continue tomorrow.
.
there were two sisters,and 4 brothers including myself.the machinery for trying to get us kids to join her in the united kingdom had started at least 5 years previous,the first to get turned down was my brother,
unaccustomed to being questioned vigorously by the immigration people he said all the wrong things and gave unsatisfactory answers so they refused him entry to the united kingdom,
he was 14 at the time.nevertheless,my mother continued her efforts to get her kids to join her.
one day I received a letter out the blue stating that an appointment was made for me to attend the british high commission in kingston,I was so happy,my grandmother was estatic ,I got on the bus the very next day and headed for kingston,
for the second time in my life I was to visit kingston,my first time was on a school trip to the zoo two years previously.
I remembered walking down the path away from that pretty little board house in the country my grandmother standing there waving,crying and blowing her nose in her head scarf,I suddenly remembered my watch and made to turn back,
but with horror in her face she motioned me to stay exactly where I was,she would bring me the watch,its a jamaican superstition that you shouldnt turn back or you will be unlucky in your journey.
I set off for kingston clutching a tiny little bag with fried dumpling and bammy that granny had prepared for me.I eventually reached kingston after enough drama to fill a book,
I asked directions to the immigration building and after more drama I found myself waiting in the queue with other folks waiting for visas to britain.
eventually after what seemed a week my name was called and I found myself sitting before a white lady,she questioned me ..
or rather interrogated me regarding my situation,whyI wanted to join my mother,why this,
why that,I eventually started stammering and stumbling over my answers I was slowly developing an headache from the bombardment of questions.
she was obviously unsatisfied with my answers,she took my passport and stamped a great big.."REFUSED ENTRY"...I was gutted.
I left the building feeling as if I had just been ran over by a steam roller,my head ached,my mind was simply racing,
I was the most dissapointed I had ever been at any time previously in my life,all my dreams of ever joining my mother had just been taken away from me.
I returned to the country and to a very dissapointed granny,I felt bad for her,I was so down the following days and weeks.
however,my mother continued her efforts to get her kids to join her,
she came across lots of obstacles and beaucracy in her efforts,
everything seemed to conspire against her getting her kids to join her.
the process dragged on and on,and eventually after approaching her local member of parliament in the uk he took up her case,
and after lengthy too-ing and fro-ing with the relevant authorities she was given the good news that she could have three of the youngest children,myself,
and my two sisters.
my mother immediately booked her flight to jamaica clutching three extra tickets.
the year is 1975,and I am living in montegobay the town of my birth,I can almost remember everything I did that day,I had just returned from the beach with my best friend and entered the yard when everyone started telling me that "yu madda come fram englan"..
.I was so exited,I had not seen my mother for 10 years,they told me exitedly that my mother had arrived,and how "de lady look nice eennhh"...my mother had tire of waiting around in the yard where she didnt know anyone so she left a message that she had gone to the country to granny`s house.
my other brother was around when she arrived so he too went with her,I immediately borrowed the money for the trip to country
,but the only bus to the country had already left so I had to wait until the next day,It seemed like a whole month.
the next day I was down at montegobay market waiting for the bus to leave,I got there at 12-o-clock,the bus eventually left at two o-clock.
by the time the bus got to the country it was already dark,I stepped off the bus in the pitch darkness and proceeded to walk the 1 mile to granny`s house,
I was so exited my heart was just ready to pop out through the adrenaline going through me,
the noise of the insects in the bushes,the country smell..
.eventually I reached the botttom of the road leading up to granny`s house,I looked up at the lamplight shining through granny`s window and stood there with my boyhood memories flooding back
.my thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the incessant barking of granny`s faithful dog tarzan,
he came out barking and yapping for all his worth,
he suddenly realised it was me and his barking turned to licking and pawing at me.
the door to the house opened and everyone came out onto the verandah to see what tarzan was barking at,.......there stood my dear mother.............
I will continue tomorrow.
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