Straight Outta Yaard - Pt 2

"Santa Claus, do you ever come to the ghetto?”

“Santa Claus, do you ever wonder why we suffer so?”

 As children, we would always hear my mother singing this popular Jamaican song by Carlene Davis. It was one of her favourites.

 Our reality was that Santa Claus did not visit us in the ghetto. Instead of the joy associated with this fictional character, we grew up seeing people dying on our streets.

 Let me give you a glimpse into my life growing up in Jamaica. My family lived in a community called 'Jungle' which was located in Trench Town, St. Andrew. There, many young boys would turn to gang violence, many girls became impregnated at a young age, while domestic violence and blaring gunshots were the norm.          

Regularly, we would awake in the mornings to hear about another man or woman who had been gunned down. This was our life, and in making the best of our situation we normalized the dysfunction around us.  Yet, I have fond memories of home.        

Some of my best childhood memories involved spending summers with my grandmother. My cousins and I would climb trees, play games like hide-and-seek, and dandy shandy while "running a boat” (cooking) in my grandmother’s back yard.

We loved going to Hellshire Beach on Sundays. My family would pile into my father's car to take the trip, and we would spend the day together enjoying snapper fish and bammy on the beach.

My mother has always been the glue that binds our family together. In spite of how poor we grew up, she always managed to celebrate our birthdays with a cake and a party.  My older brother Rohan would also occasionally make an effort to take us out of the community on trips. He did this to not only expose us to different places in Jamaica, but also to other ways of life from what we saw in the “Jungle”. These memories I hold dear to my heart and I will never forget them.

 At the age of 15, I was badly beaten. This not only broke my spirit but also the bonds within my entire family.  it was at this point that I had to leave Jamaica.  Supported by my aunt, I left to find a better life and a way to be able to support my family that I had to leave behind.

The emotional transition in Canada was difficult. I was in a much better socio-economic position, but I desperately missed my mother and siblings. I had also left my friends behind and finding and navigating new friendships was another challenge.  Through my many experiences with people who I tried to form friendships with, I began to feel that there was a lack of authenticity with North American relationships. Despite the challenges, over the years I have been able to create a community of support and friendships which I continue to value.

The voids in my life caused by the emotional pain that I felt leaving my home fuelled me. I was motivated to work hard and advance my education. I completed a Master's Degree, and at the same time began working as an advocate for women and children.

Eventually, my family was also able to immigrate to Canada; this was a major accomplishment for me to be able to facilitate that, as I had promised myself that no one would be left behind.  The outcome of our family's story could have been different if we had remained in Jamaica.

My entire family and I have been able to pay our blessings forward. Over the past 5 years, we have been able to sponsor the primary school we attended in Jamaica by providing backpacks filled with necessary school supplies for the children.

“Give a Back Pack” was birthed out of a suggestion from my best friend. This family initiative has grown to be able to provide for children in Trench Town and surrounding communities.

Through the hard work and tremendous support received we have provided over 200 backpacks, and monetary support for children wanting to pursue a high school education over the years. I have experienced great joy in giving back to my community. Seeing the gratitude from the recipient families makes it worth the work.

Marcus Garvey states, “A people without knowledge of their past history, origin and culture, is like a tree without roots.”   I give God thanks for my past and how I grew up as it made me the woman I am today. I am a fighter and a survivor. Not only am I a Jamaican “Straight Outta Yard” but it is also a part of my history.

 

 

A Part of My History

You want to know my history, to know who I am,
I’ll give you a glimpse of my life, so you’ll feel that connection,
A part of my history.
 
I have the blood of reggae music running through my veins,
The taste of ackee and saltfish, breadfruit and sugar cane,
There is no other culture more distinct than mine,
It made me who I am and who I’ll be in time,
But all this cultural heritage lies within me today.
A part of my history.
 
I have memories of death, depression, and sadness,
Gunshots, rapes, killings, it was madness,
Ten Jamaican dollars could be stretched in many ways,
sometimes I look back with shock and I am amazed,
My people suffered, fought, and cried,
It was survival of the fittest, many didn’t make it, many died.
 
But thanks to the Almighty for saving me,
My people are dead, but their spirits live,
A part of my history.
 
I have a scripture that I read every day,
For God to protect and show me the way,
“Racquel he that dwelleth in the secret place of the most high,
shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty."
My aunty mama used to say,
These values I’ll pass on to my children, so they’ll know my past.
A part of my history.
 
I have fond memories of playing hide and seek and dandy shandy,
I miss being on Hellshire beach eating some snapper fish and bammy, 

“Bwoy, life sweet a yard if you have money”, they always say.
Thanks be to God for keeping me.
I will forever love Jamaica, the land of wood and water.
A part of my history.
 
I have a culture that keeps me alive,
A past that I cannot deny,
A future that is not known.
A life that is an unpredictable road,
All of which made me who I am today,
A strong black Queen
You want to know my history, to know who I am?
 I’ll give you a glimpse of my life so you’ll feel my connection
A part of my history.    

~ Shan ~