I was born in Brooklyn, New York on July 12, 1967. My mother was born in Jamaica and my father was born in Cuba but raised in Jamaica. Most of my childhood years, I considered myself Jamaican because I was proud of my West Indian heritage and culture.
Most of my younger years were all a blank to me. I do remember one morning, about the age of four or five. I was lying in my bed, staring at the ceiling when all of a sudden my ears popped, just like when your ear pops after flying an airplane. That?s when I began remembering my first days of life and seeing my two older sisters, and older brother. The only thing that I could remember before that day was when I was playing in Jamaica. I was playing on a dirt trail, when a black car blew its horn. That same black car pulled up right next to the house where I was staying. A white lady with blonde hair exited her vehicle and went into her house. All of the children from the neighborhood knew her and ran to her yard.
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