Bathing while overlooking vast acres of land layered with sugarcane, and cows grazing in the open fields. Waking up to the sound of the wind and other exotic creatures. Picking cherries, guava, tamarind, starapple, guineps and other fruits during the summer time to snack on. Watching grandma make marmalade and cherry jams from scratch and adding Pineapple Lasco to oatmeal porridge for lunch. Waking up to Johnny cakes, dumplings, eggs, bananas, bread and other foods that were in season at the time for breakfast EVERY morning. Watching cornmeal and potato pudding being baked over a coal stove. This is how I spent holidays spent at my father’s parents house.
My days after school were spent creating plays and stories and reading books that I couldn’t understand the plot. Eating syrup and crackers to pass the time because grandma’s method of cooking was not easing the level of gas in the stomach.My grandfather died years before I was born so my experiences with him are non existent. This was at my mother’s parents house.
I am a dry land tourist. I’ve been to every parish for sight seeing, special assignments through work (mostly with daddy), anniversary getaways and school trips.
Living in Kingston has exposed me to the finer things in life. Retreats and conferences out of town, courtesy calls at King’s House, lunch with executives etc.
However having these experiences doesn’t mean that I have not seen bad times. I’ve seen my mother fashion chicken back in more ways than one. I’ve had cornmeal porridge so many times that on one of my most recent visits home, I asked mommy for cornmeal porridge only -she thought that I was joking. I had my first try at sweet and savory chicken foot one Sunday evening when that was the only thing in the house for dinner.
I’ve learnt to be appreciative of what I have, years after learning in University that I wasn’t rich. However I’ve been blessed to have hand me downs, that I’ve learnt to fashion to my suit. Spending summers at relatives because my mother had to turn up the hustle. To be blessed with a godmother who did and still does her best to provide for not only me but also my younger brother and mother and reminding me that I should live my life for ME.
My house is no vacation house, but it has a vast history. My experiences living and even visiting are those I’ll always cherish, even if they weren’t always good. I’m now willing to accept it as my dwelling. Once it clean you cyan go wrong. Who wants to clean a huge house?
I’m not rich, but I’ve been blessed. I continue to be blessed. With these experiences, they are building me for the life that I want. One where there is less judgment, where I understand the need to hustle and I am appreciative of what I have. Most importantly I’m happy with who I am.