Heather Robinson

Most Jamaicans love to go home. Home for the majority of Jamaicans is usually some place in rural Jamaica where parents and grandparents reside. A visit to 'home' is usually one that is greeted with great anticipation and preparation. A visit to the wholesale or supermarket is a must, and if it is Christmas or Easter, the purchase of new church clothes for one's parents is also a prerequisite.

The journey to rural Jamaica usually sees one making several stops along the way. On the south coast stops can be made at Melrose Hill, Middle Quarters and Scott's Cove on the border of Westmore-land and St. Elizabeth. The north coast journey is less interesting, with Ewarton for jerk pork and Faith's Pen being the two more popular stops.

On arrival home family members will sit and have some of the best prepared rice and peas and stewed pork. And if one is lucky there will be a nice cold drink of lemonade made with wet sugar and sour orange. These are some of my recollections of visiting my father's parents in Colonel's Ridge in Clarendon in the early '60s. My mother's grandmother was also an excellent cook, who did not always wait on us to visit her in Negril from Grange Hill. She would send fry fish, lobster, roast beef and pork in a big Milo tin to us in the evenings, courtesy of the Royal Mail. I have not tasted food like that in over 45 years.

The return journey to Kingston from rural Jamaica can find one with many food items that are shared between family and friends, and yes, one has to call to let family members know that one has arrived safely back in Kingston.

Yearn to go to Africa

Many Jamaicans yearn to go back to Africa, the place from where our forefathers were forcibly shipped to the West Indies. For my own partI wondered what it would be like to visit Africa. It happened in 1995 when I visited Gabon. It was not a memorable visit. In fact, I was disappointed, and the language barrier was a great distraction.

Later in the year, I visited Senegal. It was one of my most painful experiences in life. We were taken on a tour of Goree Island where slaves were packed into ships for the journey to the West Indies. I was traumatised when we were shown some small cubicles that the captured Africans were made to stay in a permanently crouched position. My memory now tells me that that space was similar in size to the place under a single pedestal desk. And these spaces were not reserved for single occupancy.

Memories

These memories came flowing back in my mind recently when, as a country, we paused to commemorate the 200th anniversary of the abolition of the slave trade. Standing on Goree Island 12 years ago, one only had to close one's eyes and imagine that those who survived that journey across the Atlantic were a strong and determined people.

During this year when we remember all of those who never survived the Middle Passage, and those who were slaughtered here, we must never forget the painful experiences that those from whom we are descendants suffered. And we should use this opportunity to reduce the pain that many Jamaicans now feel when they go home to communities that are in a literal constant state of war.

Those who can provide the leadership to reduce the incidence of murders and shootings should do so, knowing very well that home is a special place - and everyone dreams of it being 'home, sweet home'.