Captivated by my Jamaican Memories.

by Esther (Marcia) Pusey
(New York, New York)

I migrated from Jamaica to New York City, New York, but one thing I have never forgotten is where I came from. In the early years after my migration in the eighties I never missed a year. I was able to wonder about visiting all my neighbors who watched me grow and whom I grew up with talk about old times with old friend. Show off my new babies and leave happy and looking forward when I would return the next year to do it all over again.

To take you back to the beginning I was born in Montego Bay and spent my early years there. I remember when my father discovered that there was land available for building his dream in a district call Flanker he decided to take a chance and accomplish his dream of opening his store. The fact that he was a contractor was not as important to him as open that store so my mom could become a business woman.

He staked his claim on the land he wanted and immediately started building. He worked for months captivated by the peace and calm that surrounded him. He enjoyed working on the building and as it looked more and more like what he wanted he would smile and just shake his head. He would take us on our days of from school and we would help even though we were girls that was not an excuse not to sift the sand or use the leaver. I learned how to use a paint brush, a file, how to sharpen one, I learned how to installed windows, toilet, bathtub and how to sweat in the hot summer sun.

Finally the big day came his dream was completed and he took us to our new home and store, which he was very proud of, built by his own hands. There roads we unpaved, some place only had tracks to get to them, neighbors were few and far between but daily new ones came in and the place started to take a community shape that one could be proud of.

When we returned to school that September we had a new address and it was Flankers District, White Sands Post Office, Montego Bay, St. James, Jamaica, W.I. and all my dad's mail proudly read David A. Pusey, Esquire.

The time came and they started working on the roads and so after work and school each evenings they would go to streets where there were beds of large rocks and along with them they took their hammers,their song and their soda bottles in which they would fill with kerosene oil and insert a rag which was used for wick to burn so they could see since there were no street lights. There they stayed singing, making jokes and breaking the large stones into smaller one that would be able to use to make the roads.

It was a happy time for everyone. A time of innocence. Neighbors trusted neighbors and all were happy.

I fast forward now to 1/8/2017 where I am unable to share with my grand children my past as it is ruin by a few who have no idea how it all came to be and I feel so hurt that I now can only yearn for the yester years knowing that I will never be able to truly come home again.

Flankers District, Montego Bay, I miss you, I loved you as the place where I ran from the sand beds to Hog City. I know I can no longer enjoy you but as long as I live I will yearn for you and hang on to my memories.

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