Tweet
Background
Well after my last trip to JA, I knew that I would be back. I tried to finagle my way to JA with Marilyn and the Thanksgiving crew, but tuition and books became a higher priority. I wasn’t upset about it because I know that things happen when they are supposed to. Fastforward to March 05. This has been the hardest semester of my life. This is the first time that I have tried to juggle working full time, being in school full time and being a single mother full time and a half. I love school and if you didn’t already know, I love Little Miss. So I’m not complaining, but it was stressful. So I’m going through and my best friend is also going through some stuff. I thought that it would be really cool if we could go to JA. It would be a chance to hang out (she lives in Georgia) and DESTRESS. Plus I wanted her to see the JA that I saw. She went to JA with her fiancé, but didn’t really leave the grounds of her hotel. I wanted her to mingle with the people, experience the food, see how time seems to just slow down. I wanted us to both hear, no problems mon, and really believe it-if only for a second.
Plus, I could feel the Caribbean calling me. I think it’s been calling me my whole life, I just didn’t recognize its voice until 2000. Did you know that I was part Jamaican. Ok-well just a smidge. My grandfather told me that my great-great-great-grandmother was Jamaica-Does that count? LOL….Anyway, my father is Guyanese. He died of cancer when I was 7. So I didn’t have that connection to the Caribbean. Nothing can compare to that lost, so there is always been a “something” that was missing in my life. I had always assumed that it was just his presence until I went to Guyana to visit my grandfather. In 1998, my Guyanese grandmother, Victorine McFarlane (love her name-its so strong) died. My aunts and uncles wanted me to come to the funeral. I just couldn’t do it. I wanted to go to Guyana bad (didn’t realize it was calling me), but I knew that my first return to Guyana since I was a child could not be for a funeral. So I mourned her loss in the States. Thinking about her death caused me to question-Who am I? Who was she? What was her life like? I didn’t know the answers to the questions. It also made me question who my father was? What was his life like before he came to the States? All the questioning and thinking was very healing, but I realized that I needed to get these questions answered and that I had to be in Guyana to figure this stuff out.
I asked my mother could I go to Guyana for my graduation gift from college. She said yes and I was ecstatic. The plan was to stay a month in Guyana. In the end, I spent a month in Guyana and a week in Trinidad. As soon as a stepped off the plane, and started to ride through the country-it’s almost like I had an Ah-Ha moment. I knew that this was part of the “something” that was missing. Being in Guyana felt so right. I understood why I always felt that I really didn’t belong in the States. Now I am practical. Although I have this yearning or strong pull to the Caribbean, could I really live there?
Well after my last trip to JA, I knew that I would be back. I tried to finagle my way to JA with Marilyn and the Thanksgiving crew, but tuition and books became a higher priority. I wasn’t upset about it because I know that things happen when they are supposed to. Fastforward to March 05. This has been the hardest semester of my life. This is the first time that I have tried to juggle working full time, being in school full time and being a single mother full time and a half. I love school and if you didn’t already know, I love Little Miss. So I’m not complaining, but it was stressful. So I’m going through and my best friend is also going through some stuff. I thought that it would be really cool if we could go to JA. It would be a chance to hang out (she lives in Georgia) and DESTRESS. Plus I wanted her to see the JA that I saw. She went to JA with her fiancé, but didn’t really leave the grounds of her hotel. I wanted her to mingle with the people, experience the food, see how time seems to just slow down. I wanted us to both hear, no problems mon, and really believe it-if only for a second.
Plus, I could feel the Caribbean calling me. I think it’s been calling me my whole life, I just didn’t recognize its voice until 2000. Did you know that I was part Jamaican. Ok-well just a smidge. My grandfather told me that my great-great-great-grandmother was Jamaica-Does that count? LOL….Anyway, my father is Guyanese. He died of cancer when I was 7. So I didn’t have that connection to the Caribbean. Nothing can compare to that lost, so there is always been a “something” that was missing in my life. I had always assumed that it was just his presence until I went to Guyana to visit my grandfather. In 1998, my Guyanese grandmother, Victorine McFarlane (love her name-its so strong) died. My aunts and uncles wanted me to come to the funeral. I just couldn’t do it. I wanted to go to Guyana bad (didn’t realize it was calling me), but I knew that my first return to Guyana since I was a child could not be for a funeral. So I mourned her loss in the States. Thinking about her death caused me to question-Who am I? Who was she? What was her life like? I didn’t know the answers to the questions. It also made me question who my father was? What was his life like before he came to the States? All the questioning and thinking was very healing, but I realized that I needed to get these questions answered and that I had to be in Guyana to figure this stuff out.
I asked my mother could I go to Guyana for my graduation gift from college. She said yes and I was ecstatic. The plan was to stay a month in Guyana. In the end, I spent a month in Guyana and a week in Trinidad. As soon as a stepped off the plane, and started to ride through the country-it’s almost like I had an Ah-Ha moment. I knew that this was part of the “something” that was missing. Being in Guyana felt so right. I understood why I always felt that I really didn’t belong in the States. Now I am practical. Although I have this yearning or strong pull to the Caribbean, could I really live there?
Peace 
Comment