Sylvia Wynter's Dream

In my family there are separations. People who we’ve never met because they live in a different parish, country or area. People we’ve only met because one of us has died and others that we treat ‘like family’ whenever we happen to see them.

There was Jordan (a fake name for more privacy). He was tall and handsome and worked at a large company for several years until he died. He was in his 30s, working as a taxi an in his free time.

My first memories of driving with him was from about the age of eight or nine. He was always attentive and anyone who drove with him would always say “Him drive good yuh know”.

Jordan was normal. He had a fiancé at one point in his life and was always thought to be good with women for his kindness and good looks.

Many thought he couldn’t drive, even as they saw him go without accident. Many thought he shouldn’t drive because that sounded dangerous. He liked music with a strong base and would be heard playing explicit dancehall music as he sped by.

He faced many challenges as a deaf man but the biggest ones had to do with the mentality of the Jamaican people around him. Whenever he saw me he would smile and ‘flag me down’. We’d stand there and write texts back and forth until we both had to go. He was family and was always be loved as so.