I shared breakfast with a bird
Wiggled blue toes in warm sand
Watched rain dance across dry land
Met strangers who called me friend
Melted like sunshine and rose again
Jamaica, my spirit’s new best friend.
When I arrived in Montego Bay, I was greeted with, “Welcome home.” I’m a Southern Girl, so hospitality occupies space in my DNA. But Jamaicans welcoming me home was something more than hospitality. By my second day in Jamaica, I began to understand.
“Welcome home” was an acknowledgment and recognition that we share ancestral history rooted in Africa, separated centuries ago by the transatlantic slave trade. We had never met, but we knew we shared a commonality, and our reunion was worth celebrating. The African diaspora lives.
Jamaica, Wah gwan, how yuh stay?