WHAT NOW...

Not long after gram-ma's funeral I learned what a Duppy(ghost) was, and that it was to be feared. I always thought that they were friendly, based on my own experiences.

My experiences were not always scary, some ghosts were actually friendly towards me during the day or even at night. As you read in an earlier chapter, when my grandmother insisted "get away from the window and get back to bed."

The excitement in which my older siblings spoke invoked such fear in me. I don't know for my younger brother, because we never discussed it after that day.

They were a year apart from each other. From around the age of 21. Candace, Randy(Tony-name change), and Winston(Stafford-name change).

They spoke of hearing our father's mother walk from the front door into and throughout the apartment. It was the tone of their voice that provoked the fear in me. It sounded like they were telling a scary story.

After that day, I had nightmares every night that my deceased gram-ma was trying to get me to go with her. I would awaken in the middle of the night by closing my eyes to end the dream, once I realized that she wanted me to go with her to the great beyond.

The dreams seemed so real, because I remember running in the dark, throughout the entire complex and around the yard, just to get away from her. Mmm-mm-m.

Please click on the word COMMENT below and leave me a comment. Thanks.

MEET MY NEW FRIENDS

Some people just know how to make friends. My new friends just walked up to me after school and introduced themselves!


Hello, my name is Jane and this is my younger brother, Tommy. What's your name? "My name is Dorreth, its nice to meet you." Where are you from? "We are from England, why?" "I asked because you sound different."


After school playing in the yard and getting to know each other, we were tired and thirsty, but the lunch-room was closed. Then we waited too long for the city bus to arrive.

The following evenings they would treat us to Pepsi sodas before the lunch-room closed for the day.

While waiting for the bus to arrive one day, I noticed the way the sun sparkled like gold on their hair. I thought that was amazing. They had golden strands of gold for hair! Wow, I thought to myself. They have golden hair!

While we were waiting, daddy's friendly friend rode by on his bicycle and offered me a ride out of the hot sun to my home, but I refused. "No thank you."


After waiting a very long time, we got picked up by their chauffeur(smile). I was hesitant, but they reassured me that after a snack at their home I would be driven straight to my own home. I was impressed.


Oh boy was I glad to get home to my humble home without fuss. Everyday went like this until I got in trouble for arriving home late.

A SHORT CRUSH ON GEOGRAPHY

I loved Our Lady Of Angels catholic school.

I was such a loner, but someone had a crush on me while I had a crush on Geography!

I just was so shy, I did not exactly know how to make friends. After school, I used to stay back and help with the clean up of the back yard as we sang along with the nuns. The following poem is a very melodic song, that made the act of picking up papers a lot of fun instead of work.

Bits of papers, bits of papers,

Lying on the ground, lying on the ground!

They make the place untidy, they make the place untidy

Pick them up, pick them up!

I made a few friends in spite of myself, this way. We loved it! Then after picking up papers, we would swing on the swing-sets in the back yard under the trees in the shade.

I can also remember having two or three classes in Geography, when I got yanked out of the class by a nun who said that I was in the wrong class. Mmm. Anyway, I fell in love with Geography because it was my easiest class, next to English. Imagine that?! That was the very last time I took Geography.

In Social studies, or was it Math? ...that I got my long hair pulled out the window by a boy, for about a week until I got moved to another spot in class. He must've had a crush on little me. Haha-ha!

Lunch time was crowded, noisy and lean, because I had just enough to pay for a small Pepsi and 2 dry cookies. Not healthy, but that was all I could afford. There was NO free lunch in Jamaica back then.

SNEAKING INTO SCHOOL - MEETING THE CANE

Mommy, found out that I was being used as a maid and babysitter, so she sent monies for me to attend Catholic school.

I was almost always late for school when I was a 9 yr. old.

With all I had to do before going off to school, I look back and forgive myself.

Can you imagine life without a clock? No one took the time to teach me how to read one at that time. I believe I lived by rote. Awakening with the sunlight fairy who entered the room and tickled my nose.

What a life I lived? Too many cares and too few hours. Breakfast consisted of mostly bread and butter or egg and bread, if we were lucky. Anyway, I can remember the pride I felt as I dashed out the door to school everyday in my brown and white uniform (which I washed and ironed every weekend).

My long hair was mostly parted and braided into two or three plats (plaits/french-braids). Back in Jamaica I was lucky to have my hair washed more than 4 times a year, but it was thick, black and shiny, from vigorous combing, by my big sister Candace(name change).

Remember I was practically an orphan, raised by my 21 yr. old sister and juvenile older brothers. Daddy was only home after dark. He was a white collar worker, who left at sun-up everyday. He worked the job of 3+ people for the pay of one person. He was a softy.

I still say I don't think he was my real daddy. Why? Details in the book!

Anyway, back to school. I remember the final day I sneaked by underneath the nun's office window to go to class when she confronted me, and marched me into her office. She whipped my legs with her cane until they burned with welts. That was the very last time that I was late for school.

These are the bones of my upcoming book, so I may repeat myself from time to time. Please bear with me. I appreciate your comments. Thanks for becoming a Jamaican Princess(ajp) Follower.

WHY WAS DADDY'S FRIEND SO FRIENDLY?

There was not much entertainment for children in Jamaica. Daddy's friend, didn't seem to have a job, like daddy did.

He would just show up uninvited to our home, during the day. Funny thing is all the kids in the neighborhood would seem to flock to this guy. He was the aeroplane man...whoosh, up in the air he'd lift us! And, swish he would spin us around, then bring us back down to earth. We loved it!


All the fair play took place in the presence of other grownups. So he was trusted.


However, He had a way of walking from the back enclosed veranda(porch) and into the room with beds, only to have us run behind him for more lifts and laughs. He would instruct us to stand in line and wait our turn. We did as told.


I don't remember the other children's names or ages, but I was around 8yrs. old. (details in book). I only passed out during the bedroom lifts. Then I lost interest. It was no longer fun.


The only television was owned by the neighbor next door. They graciously allowed a crowd outside their living room doors that opened onto the veranda(front porch).


Almost nightly there was a crowd there, depending on the shows that were on. The audience consisted of men, women and children. The word was out! Free T.V! No privacy for this family, I thought.


While everyone gathered to watch T.V. the very same man often offer to have me sit on his lap! (Details in book). Everyone was so taken with the T.V. that all seemed normal.


The family who owned the set was quite comfortable because the man of the house was a policeman. He was very tall and thin with a long face and always clean-shaved. His wife was of perfect figure and weight with a smiling countenance.


However, their only child was the skinniest 3 yr. old girl I'd ever seen. She craved salt on a daily basis. Weird.
I was just a child but I thought there was something wrong with the salt cravings. She would beg for a hand-full of salt to lick from her hands and their helper would give-in to her.


On occasion their niece, a healthy heavy-set preteen, would come over to vacuum and dust for pocket change when their regular helper was not available.

Never a Dull Day

I remember once when a small lizard would enter the home how much of a stir it would cause.



The screams were unbelievable, considering that these creatures were common outside on the ground and in trees. I learned to fear these creatures from witnessing my sisters response to them.


"Get the broom!! Help!!" All that commotion just to oust one small lizard. Oh boy did I develop my own fear of those little creatures.


I did not like the ground lizards, because of their size. They were approximately 10-12 inches long and they were hefty. But, they never came into the home. Bats would cause my older sister to run out of the house! Thank God I never developed a fear of birds because the same thing happened when they got into the home.


You know me by now I am a cat in a little girl's body, I love birds.

DEFENDING BROTHER

I knew in my heart that I had to do something to help my younger brother when he said "oooh my belly hurts so bad." I became his immediate advisor " just tell them that your belly hurts too much for you to keep running to the store. I will go for you, OK?"

After he told our big sister what I told him to say, she asked him who told him to say that and he told her it was me. She called me "Dorreth!" (My sister's voice sounded incredulous as she screeched) "I believe only that conniving little devil could have told you to make up that story."

Keep in mind that our sister was around the age of 20 and we were just her little slaves. After all there was no mother around to care for us and we were around the tender age between 7 and 9. I must have been 8 and he 7.

When ever they left us home for the day we were completely on our own. Without food or supervision. I remember stealing tiny sips of Vick's formula 44 cough syrup (wetting our tongue), just to hold back the burn of hunger in our stomachs.

We both did it. I fear that one of us did more than sip the sweet medicine and I got the beating for it, when my sister returned home.

I sometimes fainted during the beatings.

Please leave a comment for me on this Blog. Thanks.

DADDY'S MOTHER DIED

My fathers mother, gram-ma, died during my recent return home while I baby-sat my nephew, Katchas.

I attended the wake and the funeral. The wake was somber, yet it was like a party. Everyone seemed to be celebrating her passing. They all had something good to say about her.

It was rich with loud music, varied foods, chatter and laughter. It started early in the evening and lasted late into the night.

At the church, I wondered why everyone was crying. I could not understand, because she looked as if she was sleeping peacefully in that comfortable wooden box. It was lined with a very soft satin covered bedding.

At the church there were prayers and hymns sung, just as when she were alive.

Somehow it just didn't sink in for me that she had died for good. Or, that she was dead and gone for that matter.

I don't think that I was very bright for the age of almost 8 years old.

A JAMAICAN PRINCESS: KATCHAS

A JAMAICAN PRINCESS: KATCHAS

Details on this Blog will be established in my upcoming autobiography.
Katchas kept his nick-name, and still lives in Jamaica, WI.

These are just the bones of my upcoming autobiography.
http://ajamaicanprincess.blogspot.com/2010/04/katchas.html

WHO'S BABY WAS IT?

What could I do? My world was turned upside down. No time for my drawing that I loved to do. Usually, in my scarce free time, I'd ask for a piece of paper and a pencil to draw with.

Those days were just filled with a lump in my throat and a weight on my hip (what little waistline I had to tilt for Katchas to ride on).

When I wasn't blaming him for getting me into trouble, I was nice to him. While bathing him, sometimes I would hate him. The thing is, that he was just a little baby! Because I was a small child I couldn't see that.

It was so hard to be a little girl. And, just as hard to be baby, Katchas.

I scrubbed his diapers till my wrists were sore and red. Then, I'd bleach them in the hot sun by laying them wet with suds on top of the long sheet of zinc, with a few drops of lime juice for whitening.

I was aching tired at the end of each day that I felt life was too much for me. I just wanted it to end, but every morning it would start all over again.

Whose baby was it? One of my brother's girlfriends.

They had to find which one it belonged to. Emotionally and physically, I was in deep trouble. By the time the baby got returned to its mother, It felt like a whole year had passed.

Haaa!

Remember to Leave Comment for me. Thanks!

Further details in my upcoming book.

KATCHAS

Mmm-mmm-mmm what is that awful odor, I thought.

This was a very sick baby. He was drooling a the mouth and he had diarrhea! Looking back, I now, know that he was teething. Poor baby, poor me! I THINK I WAS ALMOST 8YRS.OLD-HE WAS ALMOST 8 MONTHS OLD.

His distress was my stress. I changed and hand washed his nasty, slimy cloth diapers. And, constantly cleaned his nose and face.

I prayed that he would only be staying only a few days until his mother would come and take him back. My prayers for her return were not answered. Not even my big brother would help with the baby. Instead they thought it was my fault for agreeing to hold onto it till its mother returned.

I had to name it, so I named it katchas, meaning just to hang-on as an outsider for a short while. I was kept out of school to care for this infant. It was torture for me. Washing cooking and constantly cleaning him as he cried non-stop.

He was a round faced baby with a curly mop of hair, and pleading round eyes that were always tear-filled. Sad for us both. (more details in upcoming book). I thank God when he napped.

I felt like dying. I knew that when I grew up I would never have children.

HERE COMES TROUBLE...

Its now the morning after I received my babysitting job without pay. I did not know what to call the infant and he started crying before daylight. I thought "what's wrong with him?" My sister said sternly "Keep you pickney quiet, misses!"

Sister rubbed in my face "You picked up trouble now you have to care for it by yourself, don't expect any help." I thought to myself... "I am about 7 or 8 yrs. old!" I felt the world on my shoulders and the weight of that baby was more than the world.

Me, A Child-Mother to my Nephew?!

As usual, I returned home to stay with daddy and my older siblings after what seemed like an eternal visit with daddy's mother, gram ma. I was happy to re-unite with my younger brother, Orien(Oreen). I was about to be 8 years old and he would soon be seven.



I remember a sunny day on the Veranda(front porch), when I watched the birds and wondered how fast I'd have to move in order to catch one of them, for a pet. Like a cat I loved to just sit and watch birds. When suddenly, a young woman, came up the walk from around the bush that hid the view from the road where traffic sounded like a rushing river.



I think her name was Jennifer. She was slender and her face was beautiful with chocolate powdered colouring and cherry red lips. Her hair was short and she had the tapered sides curved into "kiss curls" beside each ear. On one hip she carried a chubby baby and over the other shoulder she carried a big cloth bag that was so stuffed, the baby bottles were poking out of the top.


Baby's face was shiny and he had a runny nose from crying with tear filled eyes. The little one was constantly rubbing his nose with the back of his fist, as if to help himself breathe. He was miserable.


Without warning, she plopped the infant into my arms and asked me to hold him for her a minute. Then she asked me "where is your brother, Tony? I answered " he is not here right now." Next, she told me "keep holding the baby until I get back from the store across the street." That was the last time I saw her for what seemed like a whole year.


Here comes trouble...
When my big sister came home and saw the baby, she said "You got yourself a baby, you are on your own with it!"

CATHOLIC SCHOOL

I had a chance to be with my younger brother, Orien, again. I missed him.

I was there only a short time before I got myself into trouble, by being gullible or should I just say trusting. But, before we get into the details of my predicament, lets talk about school.

Mommy had arranged for me to attend Catholic school. "Our Lady Of Angels." I did not care for the plain brown uniform but I didn't mind the white shirt. I had the pleasant duty of washing and ironing my uniform and socks, along with my underwear, every weekend.

I loved the habit the Nuns wore. But, I disliked their way of disciplining. More details to come in my book. Although, their discipline was better than the way I was beaten at home. What was I thinking?!

Boarding the city buses every morning for school made me feel important, even though I was always in a rush. Why? I had to make sure the house was immaculate before I left for the day. Granted, it was only a two room flat with two beds and a cot with a few more essential pieces of furniture.

The cleaning woman or wash woman never lasted at daddy's.

I'll tell you more about the cleaning girl drama and my older brother Tony's involvement in the book. Although, I might give you a preview here in this blog. I'm not sure. I have to go to the mall, now, where I do portrait drawings for a living.

But, I somehow always forgot to wash my little blanks. Will tell you late what happened....

Me, Psychic?

It was a sunny Saturday, just before noon. The women were busy washing clothes in zinc wash-pans out in the court-yard, as they told stories and listen to music in the air.

At the age of seven I was only doing the weekend cleanup for gram-ma. When I heard the gate open and close(about 12yds. away), followed by foot-steps towards our cottage with a knock on the door.

Excited to see who this visitor was, I hurried to open it, but no one was there.

So, I asked gram ma, and the women close by to find if they noticed anyone coming in from the gate, when suddenly, we all heard the knock on the gate (second time for me). It was a messenger with a telegram of my uncle Hartman's Jr. who recently died.

Uncle Hartman Jr. was very young, but he suffered from a finger the size of a giant plantain. That was a result of an allergic reaction. My grandmother was obviously shaken by the news. I felt nothing.

That is one of the reasons I wondered why I had no emotional attachment like other people.

For a short spell, everyone exclaimed that I was psychic, to have heard the messenger before he even came with the delivery!

My modesty, allowed little attention to the praise.

WISHED I HAD A PLAYMATE

Well, well, well, wishes do come through.
A new neighbor moved into our yard! My wish for a playmate was granted. I am pleased. Betty, was a bit younger than me. She was around 6 yrs.old. I was 7. We had lots of fun, together.

We even played house and school. We played doctor with our dolls. Mine was a blown-up Santa clause. Remember my doll, Baby, was destroyed?

We even experimented, playing out the roles of mommy and daddy. That ended abruptly, due to my own natural response. I felt a shock and jumped! Frightened, we vowed to never do that again.

That afternoon, my paternal gramma, and a couple of the neighbors, got together to loudly discuss what happened to two littler girls who played mommy-daddy games. But, they played with a broom, and wound up in the hospital.

Looking back, I can see that they watched us play and just wanted to scare us.
(see upcoming book for details)

A LESSON IN LIFE

Living as a small child in Jamaica with my paternal grandmother was a lesson in life I will never forget. I learned certain truths. What was someone Else's was not mine to give away or share.
I learned to respect other people's property. I learned it the hard way the first time.

Grandmother and I had a pleasant visit with our next door neighbor. Eating, drinking and sharing laughter with simple conversations. The news neighbors discussed and so forth.

The night passed swiftly for the first time in a long time. Remember, we only had a radio to ease the stillness of our evenings back then. For me, a seven year old without a playmate the woman's visit was a relief.

To show my gratitude, I did the unthinkable. As our friendly neighbor was about to leave for the night, she commented on a picture on our wall above the bed. "That is a beautiful picture, Ms. Spence." That was all I needed to hear when I responded, "I will give it to you since you like it."

Unaware that my grandmother did not care to share, I was shocked to receive a fine flogging that lasted forever, it seemed. When she was through, I had the awful task of going next door to bring back her picture. "Go now and bring back my picture!"

No sooner than after one knock, the door opened. "Here, take it back, I heard everything." I didn't have to explain. The wooden walls were thin.

Once a sharing child, always a caring adult. I still share. That won't change.

http://images.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://www.yardflex.com/archives/crying.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.yardflex.com/archives/003222.html&usg=__Ilw3mqEOg51qMcq4oSfawDlRo30=&h=321&w=400&sz=25&hl=en&start=577&um=1&tbnid=6ahZoJkE4DzIMM:&tbnh=100&tbnw=124&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dcrying%2Bchild%26ndsp%3D20%26hl%3Den%26sa%3DN%26start%3D560%26um%3D1

SPOTLESS OR ELSE!

OUR HOME WAS IMMACULATE.

I received one of my most memorable beatings one day when I decided to do chores after playing.

It was a beautiful day. Trees swaying in the sun. Birds softly chirping. When after-school neighbors gathered together just to play. Not one of us was older than age eight. I must have been about 7 years old.

We had a good time playing shop and house. We even found a good sized box to use as the bus.

Each of us took turns as the bus-driver who pulled the box from one imaginary bus stop to another.

We bought and sold dirt goods, from our friendly shop keeper and paid for it with little stones. I even had my turn as shop-keeper. I wrapped the imaginary rice and flour in the brown paper we tore from brown paper bags. All this time we played in the big shady back yard, until late in the day.

Finally, reality took over when I heard my sister, Yvonne, calling. "Dorreth!!!!!!!!!"

That beating changed my life. From that day forward, Cleaning my home came first and all other activities took a back seat.

If only we could still pay for real food and services with stones, life would be just dreamy!

A bit rough riding around on our bottoms inside a card-board box from place to place, though (LOL)!

CHURCH DRESS

I WAS UNCOMFORTABLE IN MY BEAUTIFUL DRESS, because the other children in our neighborhood did not own one as beautiful as it.

Complete with crynoline, satin and lace. I loved that my momma, sent me such a dress, yet I felt almost ashamed to be wearing it in front of others who were less fortunate.

I never wanted to feel like I was onstage. I hated the stares as my grandmother and I went by, on our way to church.

Embarassed? Yes, I was! She was always dressed up, but this was new to me.

It was nice to go to church, but the services were long and predictable.

BED WETTING NOT ALLOWED

It was in the middle of the night, when I felt a warm and wet feeling beneath me! I was ashamed when I wet the bed. However, nothing compared to what happened next.

"You are seven years old, how can you be wetting the
bed? The next time you wet the bed young lady, you will sleep on the
floor!!"

I took a good long look at the hard wood floor. Dismayed. I thought to myself, I will wee-wee before bedtime from now on.


I hurried off the bed from my spot in the corner, against the wall. I hurriedly changed the sheets, while listening to my grand-mother.


She eventually chipped in and gave me an extra towel to rest under my bottom to prepare for my next accident. I never wet the bed again. I awoke every hour, on the hour to check under myself. That was the longest night for many years to come.

To this day I cannot sleep through the night.


Bed-wetting
(Enuresis; Primary Nocturnal Enuresis; PNE)
by Debra Wood, RN

Definition
Bed-wetting is involuntary urination during sleep in children over age five. Typically around ages 3 to 5 years, children become able to sleep through the night without wetting. While infection or anatomic abnormalities of the urinary system may explain bed-wetting at night, most cases have no explanation and are referred to by doctors as primary nocturnal enuresis (PNE).

Causes
When children are sleeping, the bladder may signal the brain that it is full. But the brain must return a signal for the bladder not to empty. Then the child must wake up and go to the bathroom.
Causes of bed-wetting are varied and may overlap. Contributing factors include:
Bladder control that develops more slowly than normal
Greater than average urine production at night
Genetic predisposition
A sleep disorder, sometimes related to enlarged tonsils or adenoids
http://www.aurorahealthcare.org/yourhealth/healthgate/getcontent.asp?URLhealthgate=%2212021.html%22