The back ground

I had NOT wanted to have children of my own. I had been scared off by all the labor stories. MY mother had been in labor three days with me. My aunt that is younger than me had been in labor three or four days with her children. I was not bout to do that. I saw the ad and thought what an easy way to have a baby. Yes, I was a chicken. Anyway, I adopted my son when he was three months old. He was wonderful except for the fact that they did not tell me he was a crack baby. They told me the mother was nineteen and had five children, all boys. She had different fathers and she just did not want to do this again. She wanted to go to school and provide a better life for them. She stated on her medical records that he drank once, never took drugs and was not an addict. I took her at her word. I didn't care anyway. I had a beautiful baby in my arms. HE was all mine. I would love him and take care of him and I would be the best mother to him. I took him to my grandmothers that night. Everyone thought he was so cute. Everyone thought he was wonderful except, HE cried all the time. He never stopped crying except to eat or sleep. And as he got older he was extremely active. I started talking to the doctors about his behavior. I had never told the doctor he was adopted. I didn't want anyone that did not have to know to know. I didn't want him to feel like he was not my child. I would tell him he was adopted when I was ready when he was ready when we were all ready. As soon as I told him about the delivery the doctor said He is a crack baby. HE has all the symptoms and when you add the delivery into the equation it is almost 100% he was a crack baby. The doctor wanted me to put him on meds at the age of there for A.D.H.D. No way would I do that to my child. Yes, he was more than a hand full but he was only a child and he was MY child and I would NEVER drug him, I would eat these words later.
Ken met me in Jamaica. I had already had My son, Jonathan Matthew. Although my family was Muslim, I was not going to give him an Arabic name or a so called black name. I had heard storied from my step mother, who had been a teacher, that teacher would look at the names in the beginning of the year and try to pick out all the black children and all the bad children from their names. I was not going to have this happen tome. No one would look at his name and think anything about my child other than he was some rich white kids.......lol..........This was also during the a time when I was finding myself. I didn't want to be Muslim. I looked at my family and thought they were crazy. NO WAY IN HELL WAS I EVER GOING TO PUT ON SHEET AND GO OUTSIDE. This is what i thought. This is what i felt. I didn't really want to have any parts of it. I used to think How could a man of God marry a nine year old girl and call it love. This was not a religion for me.
ANY WHO, We met Ken in Jamaica. HE lived in his brothers home. HE was building it. He was very talented. He could build anything. My uncle once said if you put Ken in the woods for six months he when you returned you would have a home and all the furniture. He could do anything. My Uncle Rashied had been going to Jamaica off and on for over ten years. He was best friends with Kens brother and got me the hook up to stay in his home while I was there. Before I left on my trip my uncle told me not to fall in like, love, or anything in between with a Jamaican man. They were all out to get a green card and they were no good. I knew i didn't want any parts of being a green card wife. So when Ken started talking to me. I did not pay him any attention. I was polite but i didn't have any real conversation with him. That was until one morning. I was upset. My room had all this red dirt in it. I did not see a broom and I needed to clean the room. My allergies were acting up kind of fierce and I needed some relief. When ken asked me what was wrong I told him. That afternoon he came back with a broom he had made his self. At that moment my heart dropped. I looked at him and didn't see this skinny, unattractive Jamaican man. I saw a tall, Polite, Caring Man. That night we sat out on the veranda and talked until maybe three in the morning.. I was in love.
Not only was he Kind; He was everything I wanted. HE was hard working. He was not a dog. HE had been married before and divorced seven years prior to our meeting. he had not had a girlfriend since. I was the first person he wanted since his divorce. HE told me when he was me his heart woke up. He told me for the first time in a long time he wanted to live not just be alive. The next day I spoke to precious, A woman that lived up the road from where I was staying. She and I had become good friends. I told her about my talk with Ken and she said If he likes you get him. Women have been after him but he does not pay them any mind. Maybe a half hour went by and Ken walk up the road. I didn't not recognise him. He had gone to the barber and put on Cologne and new clothes. I had to do a double take. He is not look like the man I has seen the night before. This man LOOKED GOOD!! I noticed every feature on his face. I saw for the first time the real color of his eyes. I saw this WAS a handsome man. Precious and I just stared at him. We were speechless. He told me He was going to cook me dinner. I had eaten dinner with Precious every night since I had arrived. This is was first dinner without her. She smiled and was so happy for me, for him , for us. I asked him what he was going to cook. He told me not to ask him what is was until I had finished eating because he was sure I had never eaten this before. I thought to myself OK, Precious did this to me too and i ended up eating cow foot. I didn't want anymore feet of any animals. by the way, Cow foot was very good. I still fix it every now and then.
That night Ken and I ate in his room. He fixed, rice and peas, red beans, and chicken feet. I swear what is it with Jamaicans and feet. It was SO good. HE was a fantastic cook. We ate and talked about our past, our likes and dislikes and about our future. I told Ken I didn't see and future for us. I was leaving in a few days and would more than likely never see him again. This was the truth. As sad as it was I had to go home. I had a life. I was in school, I had a job, I had a child. I didn't have time for a man and I didn't have time to fall in love. Ken said " give me two weeks. That is all I need. I want to show you ,y life and I want to show you Jamaica. I want you to know me. " I looked at him and said. I don't have money to change my ticket and I really needed to leave. HE offered to pay for the ticket fee and he was not taking no for an answer. Well needless to say I stayed and we feel in love and got married. I didn't tell my family anything about me changing my plans. When I didn't show up My uncle made a trip to Jamaica. His brother had told him he had heard that Ken and I were getting serious and he wanted to see for himself what was going on.
when he arrived Ken and I were already together. We had been married a few days. No one knew I had made him promise not to tell anyone until I had talked to my mother. I was her only child and to not seem e get married was going to kill her; and she was going to kill me. I ended up telling my uncle. I didn't not want him to think I was sleeping with Ken. HE had to know I Was married. He promised not to tell my mother. we had a wonderful time. My uncle and I had been fairly close. He was my favorite uncle on my mothers side. HE was the first on in our family to embrace Islam, everyone soon followed in their own time. I am proud to say everyone for my grandmother on down are Muslim. He left Jamaica knowing I was happy and told me if I had to fall in love with a Jamaican he was glad it was Ken. I was happy. I stayed in Jamaica for six months and went home. I told my family about Ken and everyone was so happy for me. I was so happy. Life was good.
My life would never be that good again.