Freedom Flag

It is August 6, 1962. Johnny busies himself around the house, eager for the day ahead. His mother and father talk about things like independence and saying goodbye to the queen but all he knows is that he gets to go to a parade. He sits down for breakfast. A plate of ackee and saltfish with yam, banana, and dumplings. Johnny’s belly is filled with excitement. Still, he clears his plate; not wanting to do anything to cause his mother to reconsider their trip into town.

           When Johnny is fed and the house is cleaned, Johnny and his parents make their way to the bus stop. Johnny dances as they climb the hill. He studies his surrounding with each step. The familiar hill is filled with newness. His neighbours have been influenced by the parade though it hasn’t started. Every house he passes is awash with the new colours. Their new colours. He shouts his greetings, promises to bring back tales of the glorious parade, and then waves his goodbyes.

Several honks slam against Johnny’s eardrums. He races to the source of the noise. When he reaches the bus stop, the red and blue tata bus is clearing the corner. It will be at his feet within seconds. Johnny bounces on his toes, frantically bidding his parents to his side, pleading for them to hasten their steps.

The bus stops and the doors swing open. Johnny mounts the steps, glances about the bus for a seat and finds a small swath of blue cushion next to a market basket which is filled with red apples, bananas and guineps. Johnny takes the seat, balancing his body’s weight on the butt cheek that is supported by the seat. His parents stand over him, holding on to the metal bar over his head, limiting his oxygen flow.

Johnny struggles to inhale deeply and teeters as the bus sways left and right. But the swaying and the shallow breaths don’t register as discomforts. Johnny’s mind remains fixed on the excitement to come. The bus slams into a pothole; momentum flings him into his mother’s belly. He whispers and apology; then returns to the balancing act.

The bus’s radio is on but Johnny can’t hear any updates on the parade – if it has been delayed or if they started sooner than planned. The conversations of the passengers fill his ears. They too speak of independence, saying goodbye to the queen. They speak of equality and better opportunities for the average man. For his parent, for the others, this is more than a parade. Johnny mouth waters for the peanut cake, grater cakes, and other sweets he will have. He senses his longing and eagerness all around. His excitement is returned to him from all corners of the bus. It is as bombarding as the bodies huddled around him.

The bus has finally arrived. The town centre has been blocked off so the bus parks several streets away. Johnny jumps to his feet, bumps into his parents, pushes past them and everyone else blocking his path to the door. His steps are tempered by the shouts of his parents. He grabs them, having no desire to slow down, and pulls them to the square. His eyes rove about the street as he hauls his parents to the square. The street is bedecked in the colours of his neighbours…their new clours. Black, green, and gold sashes are wrapped around light posts, street signs, and the columns of buildings. The colours are also tied in elaborate bows and affixed to trees and building doors.

Black for the hardship of the people. Green for the lush vegetation. And gold for the sunshine that pelts Johnny causing him to wipe release his parents’ hand and dab sweat from his brow. No more red, blue, white. Johnny loves these colours. These colours seem to be a better match for him, for his people. “They speak of our reality, our experiences, our identity,” his mother said when he said how much he loved them.

Johnny looks to the sky. The brightness blinds him. The scorching sun will not dilute his joy. He finds a man selling sky juice and quenches his thirst. The sky juice man wears a black, green, and gold hat and shirt. He, like everyone and everything else, is bathed in the colours. Even the drink he sells is yellow and green.

A barricade separates Johnny from the throng of dancers and musicians marching down the street. Giants lead the charge. They dance to the beat of the marching band behind them. Usually, Johnny fears these masked men on stilts but the joy of today will allow him no fear. He reaches out to the Jankunoo dancers. One takes giant leaps, wiggles and jiggles over to him. The dancer hands Johnny a flag. The declaration of a new nation: Here lies Jamaica.

As Johnny admires the golden X separating the green and black, he begins to wonder about the freedom his parents spoke about. He and everyone he knows get to be Jamaicans. They get to be themselves. They can embrace who they are as a people because they’re no longer the property of others. They are no longer owned by a country he has never seen. A country he knows only by their position on the globe and the once shared flag. Today, Johnny has his own flag because today Johnny is free, Jamaica is free.

The procession comes to a halt and the band raises a new tune. Johnny recognizes the song. He belts out the words he has practised with his parents. The day has been still but the flag now sways in a slight wind. As if expressing its approval of “Eternal Father bless our land.” Johnny straightens his back, pushes his chest out and his shoulders back. His body swells with something other than joy and excitement. He looks up to his father. His eyes follow the tears that descend his father’s cheek. Pride. That’s what Johnny sees on the face of his father and that’s what he himself feels. He is proud to be an independent Jamaican.