This has been a difficult post. It has been through several re-writes and it still does not feel right, but here goes...
Of all of my siblings Bill’s childhood was the worst. He happened to have been born darker than the rest of us. Our father, in his infinite wisdom, or was it ignorance, prejudice or just plain anger, declared that he was not the father and Bill was not his child. He totally disowned him accusing our mother of infidelity. It was probably what caused the rift which became a part of my earliest memories (see my first post). Bill was literally banished from our house, though our mother was not. For the most part he was raised by our Grand Mother, Aunt in Lucky Hill. There were periods when he lived with us but these were not very frequent and I do not remember him staying with us very long for any one period. In fact, although we are only a year or so apart I can only remember two periods when we attended the same school. For the most part Bill grew up away from his family.
I can only imagine the hurt, resentment and animosity he must have felt growing up.
For my part I never really thought much about it while I was growing up. It was the way things were. I lived in Ocho Rios with our mother and father and Bill lived in Lucky Hill with Aunt. Ocassionally I had to spend time with Aunt in Lucky Hill and Bill spent time with us in Ocho Rios, and that was that. Then when my parents finally divorced the separation became more permanent. But even then I never thought about it. I never thought of it as unfair, wrong or unjust, it was just the way things were. Yes I was glad that I was living in the town of Ocho Rios and not in the bushes of Lucky Hill. But that was the extent of my perception of any inequity.
It was not until I became a grown person that I saw the injustice. It was not just that he had to live in the country with its seclusion, no running water, no electricity and the never ending chores while I lived in a fairly suburban area with all the amenities of a Jamaican middle class life style. It was more than that, much more. I can only imagine the exclusion, the feeling that you are not wanted, of being left out, excluded from your own family, a throw away, of being forced to live as a part of another family for most of your childhood. His hurt and resentment must have cut deep. I know Iit would have been for mr. If the shoe was on the other foot, and I am keenly aware how easily that could have happened, I would have been a total delinquent, with a chip that would have landed me in a grave or a prison a long time ago.
Surprisingly Bill became the ultimate gentleman. I have never heard him mentioning a hurt feeling or derogative sentiment against our father. Throughout his life he gave him utmost respect. He visited him often even when he was a grown man and did not have to. In fact, I think Bill was the last one of us to have visited him before he died.
Of all of my siblings Bill’s childhood was the worst. He happened to have been born darker than the rest of us. Our father, in his infinite wisdom, or was it ignorance, prejudice or just plain anger, declared that he was not the father and Bill was not his child. He totally disowned him accusing our mother of infidelity. It was probably what caused the rift which became a part of my earliest memories (see my first post). Bill was literally banished from our house, though our mother was not. For the most part he was raised by our Grand Mother, Aunt in Lucky Hill. There were periods when he lived with us but these were not very frequent and I do not remember him staying with us very long for any one period. In fact, although we are only a year or so apart I can only remember two periods when we attended the same school. For the most part Bill grew up away from his family.
I can only imagine the hurt, resentment and animosity he must have felt growing up.
For my part I never really thought much about it while I was growing up. It was the way things were. I lived in Ocho Rios with our mother and father and Bill lived in Lucky Hill with Aunt. Ocassionally I had to spend time with Aunt in Lucky Hill and Bill spent time with us in Ocho Rios, and that was that. Then when my parents finally divorced the separation became more permanent. But even then I never thought about it. I never thought of it as unfair, wrong or unjust, it was just the way things were. Yes I was glad that I was living in the town of Ocho Rios and not in the bushes of Lucky Hill. But that was the extent of my perception of any inequity.
It was not until I became a grown person that I saw the injustice. It was not just that he had to live in the country with its seclusion, no running water, no electricity and the never ending chores while I lived in a fairly suburban area with all the amenities of a Jamaican middle class life style. It was more than that, much more. I can only imagine the exclusion, the feeling that you are not wanted, of being left out, excluded from your own family, a throw away, of being forced to live as a part of another family for most of your childhood. His hurt and resentment must have cut deep. I know Iit would have been for mr. If the shoe was on the other foot, and I am keenly aware how easily that could have happened, I would have been a total delinquent, with a chip that would have landed me in a grave or a prison a long time ago.
Surprisingly Bill became the ultimate gentleman. I have never heard him mentioning a hurt feeling or derogative sentiment against our father. Throughout his life he gave him utmost respect. He visited him often even when he was a grown man and did not have to. In fact, I think Bill was the last one of us to have visited him before he died.
Now that I have grown I have a lot of emotional feelings surrounding this issue that I am still trying to sort through. This bolg is a part of that. I canmot undo anything that has happened nor love my father any less but I do question his action.
The good news is that Bill is still my kin and a finer gentleman, a more caring person, a more devoted father and a more loving brother would be hard to find!
