Manmay LaKay Magazine Issue 2 April 2018 | Page 95

island guy used to having windows and
doors open with fresh sea breeze all day
long. And here, being cooped up in a locked
house, idle, just wasn’t for him.
“I have to go take care of my garden,” he
often said. His yam and plantains and even
sugarcane. “I don’t like being in a closed
house doing nothing. ”
One year later, tragedy struck and James
had to make the trip again…
Fast forward to March 2015 and James
would find himself traveling from Vieux-
Fort to Miami again. Not to cut cane or
celebrate his birthday this time, but to
celebrate life, the life of his youngest
offspring whose life was cut short by this
darn Lupus. Lupus stole her from us. She
was only 30 years old.
The stories of moms and dads, uncles and
aunts, grandpas and grandmas immigrating
are abundant and their experiences perhaps
similar. When they weren’t en route to the
sugarcane fields, they were traveling to
reunite with relatives or friends who paved
the way for them. Often taking jobs, albeit
unattractive, paid the bills and took care of
the family they left behind.
While we received the barrels and new
clothes and perhaps a transistor radio
(every cane worker came back home with a
radio–lol), the experience on the field was
either poignant, pleasant or both. And for
this West Indian sugarcane cutter, Morrison
James, it was both.
Everyone has a story, what’s yours?