In the Beginning
It began when two young people decided to have a baby. It all starts like the beginning of a warm story but these young people were my parents, so I assure you, it wasn’t. Their relationship didn’t last very long, but the memories did as they had now a child from their time together. See my mother was only 18 years old at the time of my birth, so it was safe to say she needed help, and with a family like mine, she received it.
I was born on a Thursday morning in Tivoli Gardens a city in Kingston, Jamaica on October 19, 1989. A little black baby girl my grandmother decided to name Jamielle. An Arabic name which meant “Beautiful”. My family lived in Maxfield Ave, another ghetto in Kingston for a short time after my birth, a place my grandmother vowed never to want to spend her last days. Fortunately, we moved to an area in an up and coming city called Molines Road. My grandmother died 10 months after my birth, which was a devastating time for everyone, but they were grateful her prayers not to die in the ghetto was answered. As I grew older there, I remember riding bicycles often, and playing in dirt. My memory of that location is limited, I was fairly young. When I was 6 or so, we then moved again to a nicer more upscale neighborhood in Meadow Brooke Estate. The home that curated most of my childhood memories. Our house was a fantasy, we had a mango tree in the back yard along with an orange tree, and our neighbors had a huge cherry tree that grew over our wall. There were white tiled floors throughout, with glazed Mahogany wood ceilings in the living room. A beautiful garden my aunt Carla planted several plants in including sun flowers which became my favorite flowers to date, and so much room to play both inside and out. There were four bedrooms and three baths, I shared rooms with my cousin, although we had separate beds and a Jack and Jill bathroom. We had colorful paintings on the walls, a class dining table, and we lived right across from a big playing field with topped with swings. A real dream come true. I lived with all women, but the home belonged to my aunt Carla the eldest, then there was aunt Kim, and the youngest sister aunt Mala, her real name is Renais. They all embodied so many admirable characteristics, they had beauty, strength, intelligence, independence and a lot of sexy. My mother by this time had my little sister Roberta and lived in another part of Kingston with her, but she would always visit and always provided for me at my aunts’. Now, relationship wise you can say we didn’t have the best relationship, my mother and I. Of course as an adult you know all that you bring to the table, but for a child I had no idea how she mothered, I just knew that’s who she was, and I loved her for it.
The times when my mother wasn’t visiting, my aunts played the role as mother. I don’t remember ever smiling as often as I did growing up with my aunts. Aunt Kim and aunt Mala were very close, they had a friendship along with a sisterhood. I loved watching the two of them transform from cooking the meals and cleaning the house to becoming vivacious visions of pure beauty. They would wear the fanciest clothing always unique in style and their sex appeal was never neglected. While my siblings and cousins played or went to bed, I could not bare the thought of missing these transformations and would sit quietly, trying to remain unnoticed as they played music and paced back and forth naked, each time returning in articles of clothing until they were completely dressed. I fell in love with beauty and fashion then. I fell in love with the transformation.