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Growing up in a Caribbean family, I always wanted to travel to where my roots were planted. I was 16 when I first landed in one of the two places of where my ancestors settled.... Jamaica, Land I love. As I arrived at Kingston airport with my Grandparents and cousin, we walk off of the plane and then BOOM! The Jamaican heat hits you without warning and I say to myself “I can definitely get used to this”. Greeted by familiar faces; some that I had only seen in photographs, we all piled in to cars and trucks to begin our journey. PITSTOP! We pull up to the side of the road to a man and his smoking jerk pan. Now I thought I loved me some jerk chicken but this was the pièce de résistance. I take my food in foil with 2 festivals, smothered in ketchup and some hot pepper sauce. (I have never eaten it differently since and this remains one of my favourite foods. ) Not too long over an hour goes by and we pull up to a beautiful home where we can see a dancehall and 2 verandas so far. The area is very fruitful with trees filled with Julie mangoes and breadfruit and a goat is tied up outside. Oh a holiday you say.... no no no, we are home. There is no time to cry out for any jet lag, nor to unpack any luggage... there are still so many people wishing and waiting to embrace us. We all jump back into these super vehicles that somehow avoid large potholes and still fail to fall into the gully on the opposite side. As we approach a steep hilly road, My Nana points out an old hut describing it as her birth place. The land around us stretches out for forever and we’re told that it belongs to us. As we reach the top of the hill, excited energies and smiling mouths surround us. A fire is lit where the most Devine aroma of authentic Jamaican cuisine that is being prepared fills the air. My cousin who traveled the week before is waiting, bag juices in hand. We have seen a lot of live dinner today; my smaller cousins introduce us to two hogs they named after my uncle and his wife. I giggle with them but also at their innocence. I am pulled close by a beautiful woman who possesses beautiful cheekbones,golden sun-kissed undertones to a pretty brown skin and a lively spirit. One arm wraps around me and squeezes me tight whilst the other holds a basket of Guinep. We call her baby Lynn... she is my NaNa’s auntie. She introduces me to all of her children that remained in Jamaica and they all look alike. One with braids, one with a fade, one with dreadlocks... but there are no twins or triplets... just strong genes. We break bread and listen to the elders as they tell us stories of a time before us as the sun sets and the crickets start to chirp. Although I can not see it’s peak, the blue mountain stands boldly in the distance. When we head back to what will be our home for the next two and a half weeks, one of my cousins are now home from running errands. The community is thriving and lively as the bar fills with customers and locals wanting to watch the Jamaican talent show “Digicel rising stars”. My cousin and I are then introduced to my uncles very best friend. They call him “Jango”or “scyatta” due to his many children. He runs the shop that my uncle owns and he shows us the ropes when he sees that we have interest in learning. My uncle tells us that we can have anything we want from bag juice to Juici patty but my Grandad objects and insists he has a tab; He believed in supporting family business the right way. Locals sit outside of the bar on benches and tree stumps laughing and talking. Looking at all of the faces that look just like mine, I start to feel a real sense of belonging. I couldn’t wait to explore.