Jamaica in My Heart
Jamaica is more than a place on a map. It’s a feeling. A rhythm. A heartbeat that stretches beyond the island itself and into the diaspora scattered across the globe. For me, Jamaica has always been home. It is where I learned freedom as a barefoot child, running through the bush in St. Catherine. It’s where my imagination was formed, shaped not by video games or gadgets, but by chasing lizards with sticks, floating on a car tyre in Hellshire, and catching “peniwhilies” to bottle beside my bed at night.
When I think of childhood, I think of fried fish and festival, bag juice on a sweltering day, and sneaking a sip of my father’s Red Stripe. I think of Sundays filled with church, Anancy stories, and community—the kind of community where your neighbors knew you, and you knew them. That was Jamaica. That is Jamaica.
