Part 1 - Naturalized Flies

She ran home, four miles total, as she did each day after school.  The time was drawing near when she knew she’d be getting the news from her father, even though he wasn’t the one who made the decision. 

“Maybug,” he would start as he always did when he knew he was going to put a crack in her heart. “You have to stop di schoolin now. Mama need yu help an yu is big girl now.” 

Most girls her age had already stopped attending school to “be of use” to their family, and Ena’s exception period was fast nearing expiration. She could feel the tension mounting each afternoon she got home. In efforts to sway her mother’s impending decision, Ena would run home after school to help her brother bring in the goats he tied out each morning. Then, she would rush inside to change out of her school uniform, wash it and hang it to dry before heading to the river with her pails to catch water for her family’s evening wash-up. 

As she zipped around the house each weekday afternoon, she would say a silent prayer for God to keep her out of her mother’s way. Her mother, Madeline, worked as a cook for 2 families in a neighboring district, and did not reach home until almost dusk.  Her father had begged Madeline to let her continue school past her twelfth birthday, because she received top marks and each Saturday, after Sabbath service, Ena’s teacher always found a moment to tell her parents just how smart she was. 

“Yes, dat chile goin’ to be a barrister in England, and I can say dat I taught har!” Mrs. Playfair would gleam as she spoke to the Atkinsons on their walk down the country dirt road. She was a young teacher whose husband had left her at the warning of an area Obeah man who told him that she would never bear him children. 

As Mrs. Playfair sung Ena’s praises, her father, Mas Jas – a common shortened form of “Master Jocelyn” – would smile politely and nod his head in agreement. Secretly, he loved the feeling that his only daughter might leave their tiny district in rural Jamaica and see the world. 

He never knew his mother, and had been told by his father that she ran away to America after she had him, the last of nine children. A talented seamstress, she had taken a job sewing clothes for well-to-do foreigners, but never came back. She sent a letter to his father a year after she left, and he only knew it was from her because not being able to read, he only recognized her name. He kept the letter for over 10 years, unopened, and gave it to Jocelyn in a bible for his eleventh birthday. The letter was short, and the handwriting resembled that of a 5-year-old, but the words still resonated in Jocelyn’s memory as if they were freshly placed:

Errol, I can not return.  I know your heart is big, so I beg you make room to forgive me.  I can read.  I can write.  I can try.  I want to try life without heaviness.  Please do not fill your heart with hate, for I am but one soul, and our children need space in your heart more than me.  Love, Rose.

His father made him read the letter several times over the years, and after a while, he only put the paper in front of him to comfort his father, for he could recite the words in his sleep. Errol Atkinson eventually remarried and their step-mother was a good and kind woman, so Jocelyn knew a life with two parents. It was for that reason that when his wife changed, he never left her, because he wanted his children to know their mother, no matter who she was.

This particular Friday, Ena left school later than normal, engrossed in the many conversations that followed the astounding news that their principal presented during afternoon devotion. Mrs. Playfair had applied for a travel grant to study at a school in America for 6 whole months! She was awarded the grant, all-expenses paid, including visas, and she was allowed to take two students! Ena could not believe her ears when she heard that her little school in Mandeville was being given such an opportunity. 

As the principal gave the documents to Mrs. Playfair, the students hovered around her like moths to a flame. She shooed them off to class and promised to read the documents at the end of last lesson. 

“Miss, please if you can read it again for me, please?” Mrs. Playfair had not allowed the students to touch the letter or accompanying documents because it was the school’s only copy. 

She smiled and asked Ena if she could stay after class, and Ena, not thinking of her usual rush-home routine, blurted “Yes, Miss,” still entranced by the words swirling around in her head.  

Mrs. Playfair had grown fond of Ena over the past four years she’d been her teacher, and she often felt, despite their age difference, like Ena was the closest thing to a friend that she ever had. Her family had moved to Kingston years ago, and she stayed in Mandeville to be with her husband. When he left, she had already fallen in love with teaching, and couldn’t stand the thought of leaving her students to move to the City. 

When everyone had left the school house, Mrs. Playfair closed the door to her class and put the documents on Ena’s desk where she was still sitting. As Ena carefully read the documents word for word, she nodded her head as if to affirm the possibility into her brain. 

“Miss, why it say you need to report by October 12?  Dat is only 3 days from today!” 

“Yes Ena,” Mrs. Playfair responded. “The post came late, but I am thankful that it didn’t come too late.” 

“Miss, you tink I can get to do someting like dis?” 

Mrs. Playfair did her best to stifle her emotions, “Chile, you and every other bright star in this school have ample opportunity!”  

Ena and Mrs. Playfair engaged in a hearty conversation about what it might be like to visit and study in America. Ena had Mrs. Playfair purple-faced with laughter as she did her best American accent while she pretended to be boarding a plane. 

“Yes, Honey, my bags are ova therrre, and I must say, I’m parched; got any beverages handy!” 

“Ena, you are a precious one, a tell yu! I neva laugh so much since God only knows!” she said as she managed to get out a few words between laughing fits. 

Ena was her inspiration for applying to the program, and she’d prayed that Ena would be allowed to make the trip. 

“I believe you will be sitting next to me on dat plane, you see. Just ask your parents an den come talk to me.” 

Ena felt her stomach lurch as she was jolted back into reality by the word “parents.”  She shot up from her desk like a cannon, thanked Mrs. Playfair for staying after to talk with her, and then shuttled off to tend to her evening chores. 

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