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From the time we booked our 2nd trip, the mantra was, “4 more months to JA,” then “2 more months to JA,” until soon it got down to details… “6 weeks to JA,” or “2 weeks, 3 days to JA.” Finally, it was, “14 hrs, 33 min to JA.”
For me, this wasn’t just a vacation – this was therapy. I needed this trip. My sanity depended on breathing Jamaican air and letting salt water settle into my locks. I still don’t know how this secret paradise was kept from me for so long, but I do believe that Jah presented me w/Zion when I was ready to accept and appreciate all it had to offer. If I had taken my first trip to JA at 22 yrs old, I wouldn’t have appreciated it the way I did at 25. But now, at 25 yrs old, I ache for a homeland that is so close b/c it is engrained into my very being, but so far away geographically that sometimes it seems untouchable.
Once again, twice in the same year, Jah had blessed us, me and Lil Sis, with paradise. I was so excited about getting to see the real Jamaica this time, being that we opted not to stay at an all-inclusive and because we were traveling with the Divine Ms. M. Ochi would be my new journey. This time, I would go with more experience and research under my belt, and more knowledge of what to expect (so I thought). I would later find out that in JA, you expect the unexpected.
Months before the trip, we read all the posts about lies to get through customs. Some boardites advised that we wear low-cut shirts and put on our best ‘come-get-me’ smiles. We’d purchased loads of school supplies and other ‘necessities’ we planned to give in love to friends we’d never met. The night before the flight, we packed and unpacked and packed again, trying different ways to conceal packs of notebook paper, glue sticks, and crayons amongst our swim suits and flip flops. “Please, please let us clear customs without any hassle,” is what I repeated over and over again. Also on my list of worries were exceeding the luggage weight limit, having all the necessary documents to board the plane, having enough money to sustain us during the trip, praying my parents would be okay, this being our first Thanksgiving apart.
The next morning, I showered, put on my lowest low-cut shirt, hauled my luggage into the car and prepared myself for any and everything. Mama drove us to the airport and kissed us goodbye. We successfully checked our luggage and boarded the plane. The plane ride was mostly uneventful. I tried to get some studying done. Yes, I brought a textbook along with me. I read about 2 chapters while in flight, but honestly, I didn’t retain any of the info. My mind was elsewhere.
We landed on time, and I took my first exhale, but the theme of expecting the unexpected began. Our first trial was finding all our luggage. Luckily, there were some handsome baggage handlers nearby who helped us collect our luggage. Second exhale. Getting through customs was a breeze. We were waived through the ‘Nothing to Declare’ line with no problems at all. Third exhale. Jamaica was better than my asthma pump. We got to the exit where we were supposed to meet Mr. M, Auntie Marilyn’s friend who was picking us up and taking us to Ochi. As most of you know, upon exiting the airport in MoBay, you are immediately hit by the Jamaican heat and the barrage of taxi drivers calling out, “Need a ride, Princess?” To some, this may be a turnoff, but to me, it’s better than hula girls in Hawaii handing out leis. Besides the many taxi drivers, I see a mother dressed in old, worn clothes nursing her infant who was dressed in the cleanest, prettiest pink jumper, pink ruffle socks, and pretty pink bow around her tiny head. I see young girls, airport employees, who looked like supermodels. Trust, they would put Tyra to shame. I saw a truck full of produce go by. All this activity in one place. “This is my home,” I said to myself. “These are my people.”
Just as I exhaled for the fourth time, amidst all the calls for taxis, I hear someone calling, “Napi, Napi.” What the…?! It couldn’t be Auntie Marilyn or Angie or Dr. O, because they all arrive later in the day. I follow the voice and to my surprise and ultimate joy, it’s Fattiboomboom! I was absolutely speechless. For a minute, I began to think that maybe the flight was a dream and I actually never left St. Louis. I ran over to hug her and pinch her at the same time. (I spared her the pinch only because I was more overcome by joy than by shock.) “What the hell are you doing here???” She laughed at my confusion, and I truly was confused. She explained that she’d been in JA for about a month now. “How could that be,” I asked. I’d been talking to her on the phone during that time and she never mentioned she wasn’t in St. Louis. And if you remember, she’d been posting those sad, woe-is-me messages on the board about not being able to join the November Crew in JA. Do you recall (and I quote), “WAAAA!” She even told Dr. O and Jamaicanbwoy to keep this secret from me. I could have just smacked the mess out of her, but I love her too much. I give it to her, though. She got one over on me. First, Auntie Marilyn pulled that mess with Vi at the Memphis Bashment. Now, it’s Dr. O and Jamaicanbwoy aiding and abetting for the Thanksgiving trip. I tell you, they sure know how to make a sista lose her breath.
Me, FattiBB, and Lil Sis sat at the new Marguritaville at the airport and waited for Auntie Marilyn and Auntie Angie’s plane to land. Again, I made FattiBB explain exactly what was going on. I sat there, getting reacquainted with my Jamaica. The sights, sounds, smells. The rhythm of the people, their walk, their language. All I kept thinking was, “I’m home! Praise God, I’m home!” Somehow, Mr. M recognized us. He came over and introduced himself and we all sat together and waited for the ladies. Not long after, Auntie Marilyn exited the airport and made her way down the runway to paradise, lined with taxi drivers instead of paparazzi. After a round of hugs and exchanging tons of ‘I missed you’s’ and ‘It’s so good to see you’s’ she pulled up a chair and ordered a Red Stripe. She did it with such ease and routine that I concluded this must be ritual. Her first Red Stripe in JA. I imagined that a Red Stripe in JA must be sweeter than one anywhere else in the world. She would sip then stare and sip then stare. After each sip, she’d say, “I just can’t believe I’m here.” Gulp, gulp. “I really just can’t believe I’m here.”
Finally, quite a bit later, Auntie Angie arrived on the scene; Angie Stone afro, pointy-toed high heel shoes, cuffed jeans, and designer sunglasses accessorizing the DIVA she is. Though she’d spent about 2 hours in customs trying to clear the donations she’d brought for the Windsor Girls Home, she still looked classy and fresh. Again, hugs all around, ‘I missed you’s’ and ‘It’s good to see you’s’. She decided she would wait there for Dr. O to arrive and we – me, Lil Sis, and Auntie Marilyn – would pick up Vi, who was staying at the Glorianna up the street, and head to Ochi. Waiting in Mr. M’s van was a cooler full of ice and Red Stripes. We swooped by the Glorianna and got Vi. As we were picking her up, I realized that each of these women was bringing something different and special to my experience, and that showed on their faces. The look on Auntie Marilyn’s face said she was anxious and ready to get into the groove of things. I got the feeling she was going to run us ragged once we got to Ochi. Auntie Angie’s face portrayed a more reflective nature. She was ready to take everything in and relax. But the look on Vi’s face was warm and sweet and mischievous all at the same time. Seeing her face reminded me of all the good talks we had at the Memphis Bashment and I realized that was what I was looking forward to this trip.
We packed ourselves and our luggage into the van and headed to Ochi.
Me and Lil Sis at the STL airport, still not quite awake yet.
Lil Sis at JA airport.
Me at JA airport.
Lil Sis and FattiBoomBoom at JA airport.
Little chocolate baby at JA airport. She was so sweet and had the biggest eyes. She went right up to FattiBB and stood next to her for a minute or two. She was so friendly and sweet.
For me, this wasn’t just a vacation – this was therapy. I needed this trip. My sanity depended on breathing Jamaican air and letting salt water settle into my locks. I still don’t know how this secret paradise was kept from me for so long, but I do believe that Jah presented me w/Zion when I was ready to accept and appreciate all it had to offer. If I had taken my first trip to JA at 22 yrs old, I wouldn’t have appreciated it the way I did at 25. But now, at 25 yrs old, I ache for a homeland that is so close b/c it is engrained into my very being, but so far away geographically that sometimes it seems untouchable.
Once again, twice in the same year, Jah had blessed us, me and Lil Sis, with paradise. I was so excited about getting to see the real Jamaica this time, being that we opted not to stay at an all-inclusive and because we were traveling with the Divine Ms. M. Ochi would be my new journey. This time, I would go with more experience and research under my belt, and more knowledge of what to expect (so I thought). I would later find out that in JA, you expect the unexpected.
Months before the trip, we read all the posts about lies to get through customs. Some boardites advised that we wear low-cut shirts and put on our best ‘come-get-me’ smiles. We’d purchased loads of school supplies and other ‘necessities’ we planned to give in love to friends we’d never met. The night before the flight, we packed and unpacked and packed again, trying different ways to conceal packs of notebook paper, glue sticks, and crayons amongst our swim suits and flip flops. “Please, please let us clear customs without any hassle,” is what I repeated over and over again. Also on my list of worries were exceeding the luggage weight limit, having all the necessary documents to board the plane, having enough money to sustain us during the trip, praying my parents would be okay, this being our first Thanksgiving apart.
The next morning, I showered, put on my lowest low-cut shirt, hauled my luggage into the car and prepared myself for any and everything. Mama drove us to the airport and kissed us goodbye. We successfully checked our luggage and boarded the plane. The plane ride was mostly uneventful. I tried to get some studying done. Yes, I brought a textbook along with me. I read about 2 chapters while in flight, but honestly, I didn’t retain any of the info. My mind was elsewhere.
We landed on time, and I took my first exhale, but the theme of expecting the unexpected began. Our first trial was finding all our luggage. Luckily, there were some handsome baggage handlers nearby who helped us collect our luggage. Second exhale. Getting through customs was a breeze. We were waived through the ‘Nothing to Declare’ line with no problems at all. Third exhale. Jamaica was better than my asthma pump. We got to the exit where we were supposed to meet Mr. M, Auntie Marilyn’s friend who was picking us up and taking us to Ochi. As most of you know, upon exiting the airport in MoBay, you are immediately hit by the Jamaican heat and the barrage of taxi drivers calling out, “Need a ride, Princess?” To some, this may be a turnoff, but to me, it’s better than hula girls in Hawaii handing out leis. Besides the many taxi drivers, I see a mother dressed in old, worn clothes nursing her infant who was dressed in the cleanest, prettiest pink jumper, pink ruffle socks, and pretty pink bow around her tiny head. I see young girls, airport employees, who looked like supermodels. Trust, they would put Tyra to shame. I saw a truck full of produce go by. All this activity in one place. “This is my home,” I said to myself. “These are my people.”
Just as I exhaled for the fourth time, amidst all the calls for taxis, I hear someone calling, “Napi, Napi.” What the…?! It couldn’t be Auntie Marilyn or Angie or Dr. O, because they all arrive later in the day. I follow the voice and to my surprise and ultimate joy, it’s Fattiboomboom! I was absolutely speechless. For a minute, I began to think that maybe the flight was a dream and I actually never left St. Louis. I ran over to hug her and pinch her at the same time. (I spared her the pinch only because I was more overcome by joy than by shock.) “What the hell are you doing here???” She laughed at my confusion, and I truly was confused. She explained that she’d been in JA for about a month now. “How could that be,” I asked. I’d been talking to her on the phone during that time and she never mentioned she wasn’t in St. Louis. And if you remember, she’d been posting those sad, woe-is-me messages on the board about not being able to join the November Crew in JA. Do you recall (and I quote), “WAAAA!” She even told Dr. O and Jamaicanbwoy to keep this secret from me. I could have just smacked the mess out of her, but I love her too much. I give it to her, though. She got one over on me. First, Auntie Marilyn pulled that mess with Vi at the Memphis Bashment. Now, it’s Dr. O and Jamaicanbwoy aiding and abetting for the Thanksgiving trip. I tell you, they sure know how to make a sista lose her breath.
Me, FattiBB, and Lil Sis sat at the new Marguritaville at the airport and waited for Auntie Marilyn and Auntie Angie’s plane to land. Again, I made FattiBB explain exactly what was going on. I sat there, getting reacquainted with my Jamaica. The sights, sounds, smells. The rhythm of the people, their walk, their language. All I kept thinking was, “I’m home! Praise God, I’m home!” Somehow, Mr. M recognized us. He came over and introduced himself and we all sat together and waited for the ladies. Not long after, Auntie Marilyn exited the airport and made her way down the runway to paradise, lined with taxi drivers instead of paparazzi. After a round of hugs and exchanging tons of ‘I missed you’s’ and ‘It’s so good to see you’s’ she pulled up a chair and ordered a Red Stripe. She did it with such ease and routine that I concluded this must be ritual. Her first Red Stripe in JA. I imagined that a Red Stripe in JA must be sweeter than one anywhere else in the world. She would sip then stare and sip then stare. After each sip, she’d say, “I just can’t believe I’m here.” Gulp, gulp. “I really just can’t believe I’m here.”
Finally, quite a bit later, Auntie Angie arrived on the scene; Angie Stone afro, pointy-toed high heel shoes, cuffed jeans, and designer sunglasses accessorizing the DIVA she is. Though she’d spent about 2 hours in customs trying to clear the donations she’d brought for the Windsor Girls Home, she still looked classy and fresh. Again, hugs all around, ‘I missed you’s’ and ‘It’s good to see you’s’. She decided she would wait there for Dr. O to arrive and we – me, Lil Sis, and Auntie Marilyn – would pick up Vi, who was staying at the Glorianna up the street, and head to Ochi. Waiting in Mr. M’s van was a cooler full of ice and Red Stripes. We swooped by the Glorianna and got Vi. As we were picking her up, I realized that each of these women was bringing something different and special to my experience, and that showed on their faces. The look on Auntie Marilyn’s face said she was anxious and ready to get into the groove of things. I got the feeling she was going to run us ragged once we got to Ochi. Auntie Angie’s face portrayed a more reflective nature. She was ready to take everything in and relax. But the look on Vi’s face was warm and sweet and mischievous all at the same time. Seeing her face reminded me of all the good talks we had at the Memphis Bashment and I realized that was what I was looking forward to this trip.
We packed ourselves and our luggage into the van and headed to Ochi.
Me and Lil Sis at the STL airport, still not quite awake yet.
Lil Sis at JA airport.
Me at JA airport.
Lil Sis and FattiBoomBoom at JA airport.
Little chocolate baby at JA airport. She was so sweet and had the biggest eyes. She went right up to FattiBB and stood next to her for a minute or two. She was so friendly and sweet.
Nuhbadda stop now 
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