A little short story
Chapter 1
I was born on a little dot of an island in the Caribbean sea called Barbados. It’s not Jamaica. It has its own unique culture yet it shares a lot with the Caribbean diaspora. I don’t want to talk about countries because when I think of countries, I think of borders and when I think of borders, I think of nationalism and when I think of nationalism I get annoyed.
I lived in what they called a “big yard” or a tenement yard. It’s a big yard space as the name implies with lots of different houses and more than one families. My mom’s dad lived there with his kids. My mom’s dad is a native Indian man from South America. He went to Barbados and fell in love with his first wife, married her and had kids. She died leaving him with about 4 kids. He then met my mom’s mom who is a loud obnoxious Jamaican woman who came to Barbados for better opportunities. After having my mom, she went back to Jamaica and left her with her dad. My mom had no guidance because her dad never cared what she did. She did what she wanted and was seen as the typical troubled teen who was “loose” and got into all sorts of trouble. So it was no surprise when she got pregnant at 15. The Caribbean culture isn’t very nice to teenagers and especially young girls. My mom was a “bad apple”, “troubled teen” all the names. Nobody really cared to address the root of the problem. They see the young girls as fast and just whores fucking around till they “caught a belly” (got pregnant).
I was a product of statutory rape. My dad was 20 at the time. Born in Barbados to a couple of Spaniards who were born in the island to descendants of Spanish settlers who came to suck dry the resources. They were rich and upper class and you can just imagine the uproar they made when their beautiful Caucasian trophy son bred a little black gyal from down the road. They didn’t give my mom a chance at all. They even tried to say I wasn’t my dad’s kid. He never defended her either. He basically left her alone. She struggled alone with me in a back room of her father’s house that she shared with her older half sister. It was when I was about 10 years old, that her mom in Jamaica told her to come to Jamaica and we emigrated to Jamaica.
Before I emigrated, I lived a typical poor kid life in Barbados. I was just a child, doing child things wandering around scorned by the community because my mom was a teenager and an outcast for getting pregnant so early and for being disowned by the white boy and his family. Some people loved me in the community and treated me well because Im lighter (mixed) compared to the typical dark skin of most people in the community and you knowcolorism. I went to a fairly decent primary school because it was free and it was on my way there the first morning that I met the first love of my life which made me more self aware. But that’s another chapter.
Ps. I am not a writer. English isn’t my first language and I have poor vocabulary. I am basic don’t read my shit.
