Memory lane has a lot of potholes

I think back to that time and marvel at just how ignorant I was of just about everything.

At five years-old, I didn’t know anything about racism. Barbados’ population is primarily black and since I was surrounded every day by mostly black children and black teachers, I assumed that was the norm for everyone everywhere.

I also didn’t know anything about people with special needs and mental health issues, but I have been thinking about it a lot recently, since I am dealing with my own mental health problems.

At my school back then, there was a boy who was mentally impaired. He should have been in a special needs class or school, but I don’t know if a school like that even existed at that time in Barbados. His brother, who was not a special needs child also attended the school, and the children called him Greyshit.

Kids can be terrible and cruel. Perhaps it’s because they have no filter, perhaps it’s because of the influences they have at home, it is probably a combination of many factors.

As a child I knew certain things were wrong and made me feel uncomfortable, but at the time I didn’t understand why these things felt wrong. I didn’t know the what the definition of compassion was, I only vaguely understood kindness because my grandmother was awesome and showed me how to be kind even without ever explicitly discussing it.

She would share the things she grew on her property with her neighbors- avocados, green peas, bananas, figs, mangoes, ackees, eggs from the yard-fowls (chickens). She would make her own guava jelly in her kitchen, which for the majority of my childhood had an earthen floor.

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