Jamaica Monologue

My family doesn’t fit in here; My mother, my brother pierre, and I are constantly in solitude. My father, Alexander Cosway, is no longer with us. Even though we are white, the Jamaican ladies still do not approve. They feel that my mother was and is too young and beautiful for my father when they married. This is coupled with the fact that my mother is from Martinique, a French colony: Jamaica is an English colony. We don’t get many visitors at Coulibri Estate, our home, since my father passed away. When I asked my mother why, she simply blamed it on the so called “terrible road” from Spanish Town. What she doesn’t know, however, is that I’m aware of the real reason: Her. My mother’s only friend is Mr. Luttrell, our neighbor. THey chat about the recent emancipation of Jamaica quite frequently and the fear of an ex-slave uprising. However, last week Mr. Luttrell shot his dog and swam away, leaving us
My mother greeted me and told me we had visitors. She then looked me up and down with shame; she called me shabby and ordered Christophine to put me in my old muslin dress that was too small. Christophine chattered to me as she dressed me; she felt these new white families, who were supposedly moving into Mr. Luttrell’s old estate, were going to cause much trouble and despair. This troubled me.

I had a terrible dream. I was in the forest walking. However, I was not alone; Someone who hated me was coming and I could hear their heavy footsteps getting ever so close. I tried to move but I could not so I struggled and screamed. I woke up crying.

My mother has re-emerged into the white society, always riding her lent horse from the new people and going to social events. She is never home and neither am I. I find comfort in being alone; I take untravelled roads and walk through brush. I encounter many animals, including snakes, and my feet get scratched by thistles. I find them all more comfortable than being with