My name is Premio Gorden. I grew up with my grandmother and grandfather, aunties and uncles and cousins in a place called Big Woods, Westmoreland, which is on the eastern side of Jamaica.

We had a fantastic time as children. It was a rural area. We had cows and goats and chickens. As children we used, as soon as the chickens lay their eggs we would go and find those eggs.

We had cane which we often fed the cows with a, granddad would go out and feed the cows and we, as children we would go and take some of the cane away.

School was about 20 minutes’ walk away. Coming home from school, there was a common that we used to cross to get home. And in that common, there was all the fruits that we could get. Mangoes, plums, guava. Going home time, we’d all descend, eat to our hearts content. Eating everything and anything. Everybody who could climb trees would climb trees and we would be picking up and eating and, you know. There was an elderly lady and she had a shotgun and she would sometimes set it off. Laughs. But we just ignored her.

As much as I wanted to come and be with my parents, I still enjoyed home. Our grandparents were loving. They were looking after us as the best they could. And of course mum and dad would send parcels over to us when it was needed and money to support us.

They left us when I was five, my brother was three. And we were yearning, at least, I was yearning to see them. So it wasn’t really about England per se. It was just coming to be with my parents.

10th of September 1972 we eventually came here. My brother and I. Our father met us at the Heathrow Airport. They were living in Ipswich at the time, and we had a long ride.

We finally got home. I think there were about four or five other children there who were our siblings. My mum and dad they had children, they’re working and the pressures was on them. Even though I was the elder one I felt lost within the rest of the family.

You build up this excitement and then when you meet it, it just drops. The excitement is no longer there.

I suppose I became a little bit resentful because I wondered why did I leave such a loving home to come here. Not given a hug, a cuddle or anything.

I was used to that back home and being the elder, I suppose I was spoiled by my grandfather. I think I became saddened by that, that it was difficult for me really to settle down. I mean, I was doing everything that I was required to do, but I can’t say that I was happy.

Things got so bad that, you know, I couldn’t stay any longer. My father knew somebody in London, so I was able to come to London and stay with her. I had a little bit more freedom. And I think I must have discovered Brixton about 10, 15 years ago and realised how different it is. Because I’ve tended to have lived in, sort of more white community. And I still don’t feel safe when there are too many white people around because there is so much hatred that still exists in the society.

I was able to go out and socialise more with people who looked like me. It gave me a different perspective, I suppose, on life. I felt somewhat secure and safe.

I had a few friends who, they would take me out to dances. They had dub music and reggae music and soul music. I mean, I don’t drink, so it was always, I’m dancing until it’s time to go.

When the dances are finished, there are usually guys outside. These guys would have these leaflets advertising meetings, gatherings, meetings to empower us because nobody’s really empowering us in this country. And I would attend some of these meetings. I would visit the 100 Black Men of London. They were the faces who were trying to help our children and are still doing that today.

When I go to these meetings, I feel so at peace because I’m with people that are like me and they have the same goal that I have.

We knew that our children weren’t being taught properly at school. Where I come from our grandparents rely heavily on the school to teach us. But we couldn’t do that here because our children were being so marginalised. We were the ones supporting them. There were schools, Saturday schools, that we could send our children to, for them to get further education and to be told some history of where they’re from, their parents are from.

We are here and for some of us who want to stay, we have to make it the best we can for ourselves. And it’s through these empowerment meetings that we’re able to survive.

I don’t think I can ever feel a part of this country. My ties to Jamaica is still there and will always be there. When you have been away for so long you become a stranger. And that is what I’m afraid of, that I have become a stranger in my own country. I don’t just want to be somebody whose body is taken back to Jamaica. I hope I can live long enough to go and enjoy the fruits of my country.

Some people, even though they’ve been away for a long time they still want, when they die, to go back home and Jamaica has probably become a cemetery for those who have left. But I have decided that I have to settle down. For my own peace of mind and my mental state, I needed to at least settle within my mind. And I’ve been here since 1972 which, it’s 54 years.

I can’t blame my mother and my father. They thought they were doing the best they could. But at the end of the day, I think I would have preferred living my life in my country because I think things could have been better.

But hey, oh I don’t know, I’m only guessing from how things were when I was there, 11 years old. It is what it is.