This Remembrance Day, on the heels of hurricane Melissa, my mother and Aunt are flying out of Jamaica to Toronto. It’s been an exhausting couple of weeks.  Coordinating with family and resources on the island is difficult. There is a lack of electricity. Cell and internet coverage is limited to non-existent. A series of WhatsApp chats connects family members in Canada, England, The States, and Jamaica. They act as our main point of contact. 

In these chats, I have “met” my Aunt’s granddaughters. We’ve coordinated travel changes and shared wellness updates. Three generations of Jamaicans spread across three countries. Some who have never smelt the aromatic pimento that grows outside our family home. Haven’t sat on the veranda soaking in the rapid patois of Granny, Aunties, cousins, and passing neighbors. 

Tomorrow on Remembrance Day, my Aunt will land in Canada, not the UK as planned. We, her family, will collectively sigh in relief that she and my mom are safely off the island. That we can FaceTime and talk easily. We can look in their eyes and see that they are OK. Not just hear from word of mouth. 

Tomorrow on Remembrance Day, I will reflect with pride of Canada’s contributions to WWII. I will also feel the resentment of a descendant of the Windrush generation. My mother married a Canadian and immigrated to Vancouver in the 1970s, however, many of her siblings and cousins moved to the UK. Access to the UK was possible because an uncle emigrated as part of the British Nationality Act of 1948. Assistance from my grandparents was rewarded with passage for their children.

I didn’t grow up knowing the term Windrush Generation. I did grow up knowing promises were made in exchange for assistance in the war effort. I learned to recite In Flanders Field and Claude McKay’s The Spanish Needle. I grew up knowing promises were not kept. Welcome and gratitude were denied to those that looked like my Jamaican family. Wreaths are laid and poppies worn for those that look like my father’s. 

This Remembrance Day, I will reflect with pride and resentment, a duality so common in mixed race people. 

If you don’t know about the Windrush Generation here are two articles (both from British sources) 

“Who Were the Windrush Generation”, BBC https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/c3w4q1ee1p4o

“’I’ll never trust the English again’: Jamaica’s Windrush backlash” https://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/2018/may/23/ill-never-trust-the-english-again-jamaicas-windrush-backlash-70th-anniversary

Novels From The Windrush Experience

To Sir, With Love, ER Braithwait 

Small Island, Andrea Levy

Windrush Songs, James Berry (poetry collection)

Girl, Woman, Other by Bernardine Evaristo

You can donate to the Poppy Fund on The Legion’s website https://legion.ca/remembrance/donate-to-the-poppy-fund