I was just a typical Jamaican boy who loved the beach and the nostalgic rhythm of reggae music. Jamaica possesses an essence of history and a utopian way of life that “spoiled” its natives. I was obviously a victim; I love my island, which is rich with natural vegetation and wild life. Little did I know though, that leaving my paradise island to continue studying Mechanical Engineering in the United States would change my life so drastically.

     It was a bright, calm Sunday afternoon. The light reflected off the Caribbean Sea like a mirror. I took deep breaths of air filling my lungs with the natural North East Trade winds, which my grandmother simply refers to as sea breeze. Karsts regions with gigantic cotton trees that were planted by the slaves during the 18th Century surrounded the north coast highway. Leaving my island for the very first time broke my heart.

     The roaring turbine engines of Air Jamaica’s A300 Airbus sounded like raging angry lions. I soon kissed my mother and my sister goodbye, quickly wiping the tears from their eyes reassuring them that everything was going to be alright. I gripped my luggage and entered the plane without looking back. My heart was breaking, but I had to be strong hoping that the future would yield fruits of success. I arrived in Orlando at 2:30pm. I was young and primitive to the metropolitan setting of America. I began observing the aerial layout of the city of Orlando. It seemed as if I was entering an urban jungle with huge monstrous skyscrapers. The architectural difference was a minor issue compared to the cultural difference that I soon experienced. At the university I had no friends, I felt alone, insecure and helpless. Getting lost while driving soon became a habit, which was frustrating and depressing.

     I missed my warm Jamaican sunshine, sea breeze and culture. The American culture was very different than that of Jamaica’s. Soon it seemed as if I was a “walking Zombie,” because my body was in the United States but my heart was in Jamaica. There were numerous sleepless nights, where my body could not rest until my heart was at peace. It seemed as if I had to change my personality so as to adjust to the sudden change in people and culture. To stop thinking about the social aspect of my life, I focused all my energy on my academics. I studied day and night for hours. Nevertheless, there was nothing else to do. I was lost in this urban jungle; I was just a pebble in a pile of sand without a face. Nobody cared, and nobody knew me.

     My heart soon became as hard as a rock; I tried socializing with my classmates. All we talked about was engineering applications and they didn’t seem interested in my culture or who I really was. The fact that I was not able to express myself as a true Jamaican affected my personality. I treated people differently and it seemed as if I was changing forever. This was a turning point in my life, simply because I did not want to accept the fact that my personality had to change in order to feel comfortable in America. The only solution was to become a “Jamerican.” I had to bury my Jamaican pride deep inside my heart. I expressed myself as an American but I knew that I would be 100% Jamaican until the day I die. In doing so I was more approachable and I began making a lot of friends. I soon adapted to the American culture. However the sleepless and restless night didn’t go away because I was depressed and was not comfortable with my change in personality. I was longing to see the joy and laughter in my mother’s eyes. I missed the feeling of my body being caressed by the Caribbean Sea and listening to the sound of authentic reggae music.

     “A tree can never survive without its roots,” were the great words told to me by my grandfather before he died. I was too young at the moment to understand what he meant, but now the meaning was clear. Two months had passed and I had returned back to Jamaica for a week. The pain was too much to bear. I fed my heart with my family’s love. I needed my Jamaican people. I had finally returned to my Utopian island. My heart was at peace and I slept like a baby.
Feeling more focused and relaxed I knew that I had to return to the United States. I also realized that changing my personality did not solve my problems. Therefore I began expressing myself as a true Jamaican. I used confidence, pride, dignity and nationalism as a weapon to overpower any indifference that I experienced in the American society.

Readers can email Shaun Dunbar at service@enliv.com. Thanks for your comments.