My First Love, I will Never Forget

by Sylvie Atkinson (United Kingdom (Great Britain))

Making a local connection Jamaica

Luggage searched again! This was becoming a tradition; only I could get searched by customs entering Jamaica. Stepping out the airport in Montego Bay, there I stood covered with a golden warmth and caressed by the soft autumn breeze. “Sylvie” A deep and sensual voice, sprinkled with an accent, a voice that I was able to hear only on the telephone. Like the opening scene to a typical Rom-Com, there he stood; tall, perfect white teeth and a toned body reflecting through his white vest and slim fitted jeans leaving little to the imagination. I'd forgotten how striking he was. In the backdrop a picturesque landscape: the vivid colours of the palm trees decorating the streets accompanied by terracotta pavements, illuminated by the sun and draped with a clear blue sky. Hhhhhh! I took a deep breath, taken aback by the view. Those jeans Jamal wore had me mesmerized hehe! Excited, having contacts in Jamaica meant that I could experience life as the locals do, away from the normal pampered luxury - though it would be rude not to indulge a little. Vincent was our driver, Jamal's brother a lively character and a comedian. Amongst all the laughter and the scenes; the rich coastline, hilltop houses, river streams blending in the outline and the vibrant locals with their Patois rhythm; I couldn’t help but feel unsettled, feeling empty and disconnected. I opted to ignore my feelings and have a positive persona about my visit. 3 hours later we arrived and got out in front of three adjoining buildings: white-washed, completely veined with cement cracks, small windows framed with metal bars, surrounded by shrubbery and the intertwining dirt roads. “Welcome to May pen, capital of the Clarendon parish.” Vincent laughed. The first unit was empty, the middle was a pool hall and the last unit a small convenience store. We walked through the pool hall into a large courtyard freckled with grass, enclosed by the structures that made up their home and a crumbling back wall standing proud. Humbled by a gracious welcome, I was met by Jamal’s family and an array of local foods; curried goat with rice and peas to name one. Time to freshen up, I was starting to feel more settled. Remembering stories from the past; feeling antsy that I was in a dominion controlled by local gangs and shootings. Thoughts of the pampered luxury I was avoiding emerged! Then I remembered, my first love, no-one could surpass what I felt for him. At a local street festival extremely overwhelmed; guns where being shot to the beat of the songs while the dancehall queen showcased her talents, doing the splits on top of speakers taller than a two-story house. Thoughts of the bullets fired in the air dropping back down with velocity made me anxious. He looked at me and smiles, already knowing what I’m thinking we move to the other side and mingled with the crowd, dancing the night away. Not many days had passed, and Vincent had made the empty unit at the front into a chicken shack. The fluorescent flavours he used in his food had people queuing out the door. Never wanting to break the law, the brothers had always been inventive in providing for themselves. A choice to finally indulge in some pampered luxury, surprised with a trip to Ocho Rios, I was in tourist heaven. Staying in a 5 star resort, I wanted to do it all: swimming with dolphins, boat rides out, scuba diving but first I must feel the golden sands in-between my toes, embracing in the opulent blue water as the waves stroked our bodies covering every inch of us. The first night there our fantasy was cut short, and Jamal received a disturbing call and we had to rush back. The drive back we both stared in the distance perplexed. On arrival Vincent's chicken shack was taped off. The son of a local gangster had gotten jealous of his success and walked into the chicken shack and shot him. With a deep pain running through me, I realized had we not gone to indulge in my tourist needs we could have been shot too.