I was born in Mandeville, Jamaica in 1967, the beginning of a turbulent time in Jamaica's history. The island had just gained independence from Britain, with the colonial class and color divisions still firmly in place. The economy was in free fall as communism and capitalism battled for supremacy, by destabilizing the government, encouraging violence and exerting tactical financial control. I came of age during these times. My playground extended from Mandeville to the beaches and small villages of the South Coast, and the island's capital, Kingston.

Eight generations of my family are buried on the island. Roots so deep in the Jamaican soil that they will bind my heart and soul forever to my island in the sun, no matter how far afield I may go. Even though I have lived in the United States for decades, Jamaica still holds my navel string, a pull deep in my soul that begins as a low drumbeat growing stronger and louder until I return to the island of my birth.