Dis long time gal mi neva see you, come mek mi hol’ yuh hand.– (Long Time Gal, Jamaican folk song)
What a sunny day it is today! There’s a warm breeze blowing through the open window; as I sit here at the kitchen table, light graces the room. It certainly is a day to walk to the river, lie on the grass, look up at the cloudless sky, and daydream while eating chilled apple slices and bursting, blackish-purple grapes
First dream: .There’s a brown girl in the ring. Then you skip across the ocean….(Brown Girl in the Ring, Jamaican Folk Song)
This morning, I submitted my resignation notice. As you know, there’s been a back and forth going on in my head about what to do next, and the answers are all falling into place like Connect Four pieces. In a few short months, three to be exact, I’ll be skipping across oceans and seas and time zones to Jamaica for a few weeks– four to be exact. It’s been over three years since I’ve seen the green, brown and blue faces of Jamaica– the ragged mountains, the swaying hills, the open seas; hugged anyone in my family, been hugged by anyone in my family; seen flowers opening to meet the day; peeled and devoured plums and mangoes not found on this continent; woken up in a nest of pillows under the beating sun; been in rooms of chocolate, caramel, vanilla latte, peanut brittle, and pecan, smiling people; drunk a glass of sorrel served with the blackest cake; heard accents that I recognize as familiar– the falling and rising; the urgency of language; the patois, the sweet creole mix heard when my ears opened to this earth. Jamaica! (When I told my mother I was coming to Jamaica in early December, she reacted exactly as I would if I’d heard that Michael Jackson had risen from the dead and was performing at Tokyo Dome.)
After the warmth of Jamaica, it’ll be time to descend into the winter of Dusseldorf, Germany where I’ve accepted a part-time job teaching English. Incredibly, it’s possible to obtain a visa for part-time work, but then what to do with the extra time– learn German, yoga teacher’s training, take a jewelry design class, study mento? See, the figuring what to do never ends. The thought of living on yet another continent (#4), meeting new people, living in a much bigger place (anyplace would be bigger than the living space I have in Tokyo), and being challenged puts a huge smile on my face. Ultimately, it’ll be the time to figure out a career path. Life is long, as much as it’s short.
Finga mash nuh cry, memba play we a play. — (Emmanuel Road, Jamaican folk song)
We were taught folk songs in elementary school, sometimes formally, and other times on the playground. It was important for our teachers to impart our culture and impress upon us the significance of our heritage. Though many of the Jamaican folk songs are upbeat, some are mournful– created for laborers to survive backbreaking conditions that didn’t break them. In short, the songs epitomize life– the soaring moments, the challenges, the triumphs, and the darkest days. However, every song teaches us that this life, as hard as it may be, and how persecuted we may seem at times, is just a game.
It amazes me that just when you thought you’re holding as much as love as you can handle, the heart expands. There’s always room to love more: more people, more places, more food, more books, more songs, etcetera, etcetera. The love never stops, never ends, but there’s a core to every heart that the love is built around. When the sun starts going down on my life, the wind slightly stirs the leaves, the trees lower their branches to meet me, a ska guitar is heard in the distance, there should be voices of love around me; someone’s hand should be on my cheek; it should be said, “Yes, that was a life well-lived,” and those words should rest in the tree in my view. So you see my friends, it’s time to start finding and truly living a life that one can be proud of.