Blog to God Documentary of Roger Alec Smith: Born into the struggle

How I came into being or my birth isn’t a delightful story. It wasn’t a bed of roses. Who feels it knows it.  I was to young to know, so I’m only telling this part of my life as I was told. I didn’t have the comfort of being born in a hospital. I was born in my great grandfather Mosley’s home. My umbilical cord was cut by my grand mother Hazel Smith. God bless her heart.

As the story unfolds It’s seems like I was born into the struggle At about the tender young age of one year old, my mother went to America to get her papers for residency, so that some day we could live in America. When my Mother went to America I was left back in Jamaica with her younger siblings but mainly in the care of an elderly lady she had known. Although my arm seem to be twisted so speak, not to speak. That sounds a bit twisted. I trust that you’ll untwist it and see what I’m saying. I must tell you cause my life has been bought with a price so my life is not my own. Nevertheless, On good days I drank sugar water and ate turn corn meal.  By no stretch of your imagination I wasn’t too far away from starving. The condition I was in if words could describe, was I had white scwal around my mouth.  I was Marga in other words extremely skinny to the point of my ribs showing. I had a bloated stomach and  flat feet.  In your mind you may see the imagery of a starving Ethiopian child.  My condition wasn’t so severe however I think I suffered from malnutrition.

When my mother returned to Jamaica and saw me in this poor unhealthy condition, she couldn’t believe I was her son. She cried and immediately took me into her arms. Filled with so much compassion she washed me from my head down to my feet. She rubbed my skin down with vaseline, & clothed me. I could only imagine I was looking so fresh and so clean clean.  Shining like the sun.  Glory be unto God!  My mother thinks by me telling this story that the elderly woman in which I was left in the care of is probably rolling over in her grave. I want my nanny to rest in peace so I thank her, my mother’s siblings, and the village it took to raise me. Looking back in hindsight with what I know now, I understand people do what they can to the best of their knowledge with what they have in hard times. All things work out for the good of those who love him according to His purpose. God’s grace is taking us through our struggles, pain and sufferings. By the way I especially thank you Mama.    – R.A.S

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