There was no way of seeing through this. It was as though a thick cloud had enveloped around her. She had no idea of whether to turn and walk to the left or right. To turn around and head back or to continue straight ahead. Eventually her decision was to stand right there, on the pavement, outside the school, surrounded by the cloudy atmosphere which gathered around her.

Her mother looked through the window. Thick fog, as predicted by the weather forecasters, engulfed the whole street. Opening the front door, she waited. She hoped that her daughter would be able to find her way home. Standing there not knowing what to do, she decided to leave the door slightly ajar. Eventually, the ice cold air outside made the goosebumps stand up all over her. Shutting the door, she held her hands over the heater, still shivering. The thought of her daughter being out in the fog sent a great shiver through her body. Waiting, she held her hands as if praying.

Standing there on the pavement, shadows came and went. One even bumped into her. She was relieved that the shadows were not ghosts but real people. ‘Duppy’ stories did not appeal to her just now even though she normally loved to sit in the dark and listen to them, when told by different family members. She had never experienced this type of weather before. Having just started a new school, at 14, she felt and behaved independently. However, this was too much, too soon, having just recently arrived in the country. The thick, stifling air, made her breathing difficult. She felt in her pocket and found a handkerchief. Shivering in the cold, on the pavement, she covered her nose with the handkerchief. Feeling quite upset, she stood there waiting, for what, she did not know. She wrapped her hands around her warm green woollen coat for warmth and comfort and pulled her woollen hat which matched her coat, over her forehead.

She stood there imagining walking in the cool breeze, sun shining tirelessly. Books in hands, her friends walking together, with her, dropping each other off at their ‘yards’ after school. On their walk home they would sometimes pass the tall, ‘brown skin’ man with long hair and a limp. He never looked at anyone. They were afraid of him. Here alone in a strange country, feeling lost and forgotten. She wished for her friends, the sun and the comfort of a land she knew well. Longing for her home on the hill where she could look up and see the cane fields and the mountains which got lost in the clouds; where her brother sometimes walked with his friends to shoot birds with their slingshots. Looking downwards she would see the trees. The trees she once climbed as a young child. From which she swung. The trees that she climbed to see the ‘Junkanoo’, dressed in bright colourful costumes. Frightening masks and dancing to the drum beats happily but meaningfully. She never wanted to go near to them and watched from the comfort of the trees once a year. Trees which enabled her to climb and look at the sea in the distance.

‘Sis’. She recognised the voice. She turned around and happily held her brother’s hand. He had walked through the fog, searching for her. She eagerly walked with him, forgetting her craving for what was left behind. She would find her way through the fog, her brother directing her. She would set aside her cravings for where she came from and follow the new pathway ahead.

Copyright Doreen Wilson

6/5/2020