Girly was doing well as a vendor in rural Jamaica. Then she migrated to America in 2003. Her letters to her mother back home reveal Girly's state of mind as time passes and she fluctuates between hopeful excitement and disillusionment.
August 4, 2003
Mum:
Mi reach! Mi ketch a Merica! Lawd! Mi so glad mi coulda fine money fi buy di visa. Embassy nah say nutten!
Celia family neva receive mi too bad. Di husban' look like him mean dough, mawga like scallion! You memba how di pickney dem did soun' brown pon phone? Lie dat; Dem black like dem Auntie Girly!
Mi a start look work tomorrow. Mi want a big job so mi can buy computa fi write you pon. Miss Icy still a show off wid fi her computa? Bout she don't meck nobody use her pee-cee! Me an you soon get pee-cee to. Me nah figat you when mi get rich a Merica, Mum. Bad mine Icy goin get strokes over wi!
Meantime me a gwan practise mi email name. Watch dis:
Yours,
girly@america.reach
August 16, 2003
Dear Mum:
You get di letta? Mi go pon di road fi di fus time yesterday. Di people dem nice, man. Everybody line up decent fi go inna di bus.
A one lickle driver run tings pon di bus. Him tell mi fi put mi fare inna one lickle place look like savings box. One hell fi mi get di money go in! But everybody stan' up patient an a smile.
Mi want a work fi get some money fi sen' so dat you an dem pickney can show off pon bad mine, Icy! When mi get mi computa mi wi write longer. You did know say one smaddy can have more dan one email name? Check out dis one.
Yours,
girly@celiayard.is
September 13, 2003
Mum:
You daughter, Celia noh good, you know. Mi dis a dead fi get a job so mi can shake mi tail an move out lef' dem! She don't understand say me haffi eat nuff fi keep up my constitution.
She left mi yah yesterday fi cook. Suppose you see di lickle bit a food what she teck out ! So mi jus' search dung di place till mi fine wha mi want. Dem mi set on di pot dem an go cock up mi foot a watch lickle TV. A noh my fault say mi drop a sleep! A di smoke wake mi up. Mi call fire brigade quick but di pot dem bun up clean, clean.
Den Celia she come in a chat bout how me don't care bout nutten but mi greedy gut! Fiesty!
Mi a go try di job business again tomorrow. Mi might try a agency as long as dem noh ask mi fi money. Di lickle change mi come wid nearly done. No job, no green money an no green card no job!
Teck care.
Yours,
girlygreen.haveno
green@america
P.S. Me nah give up pon di pee-cee ting yet!
September 29, 2003
My Dear Mum:
Wonda if you coulda sen' fi mi? Mi go check di agency as mi tell you but it nevva work out at all.
Mi go pon di bus wid di one ten dollar bill mi have left. Mi push it inna di savings box ting an stan up a wait fi mi change. No change! Dem everybody back a mi start kiss teet an gwan funny. {Dem noh nice like wha mi did believe.}
So mi ask di driver fi mi change. Di man ask mi if mi a idiot! Mi meck him know right den and dere say mi nah move till mi get mi change. Den everybody start cuss. I start bus nutten but some Jamaican blue light pon dem! Dem jus' stan' up quiet, nevva understand one wud wha mi say.
All of a sudden mi hear one Jamaican voice back a mi. Police! Him tell mi say him understand bad wud an a jail him a carry mi now!
All di beg mi beg di ugly man him wouldn't pay mi a mine. Celia come bail mi but mi still haffi go a court.
Pray fi mi, Mum!
Yours,
girly.ketchtrouble@america
P.S. You believe bad-mine
Icy obeah mi?
October 10, 2003
Dear Mum,
Mi a write you pon computa now! (You mus' memba tell Icy.) Di case call up an dem charge mi one bag a money fi di few lickle wud wha mi talk! Celia say she couldn't pay it so me deh a prison fi a lickle short time.
Mi noh want you fi cry or nutten cause tings aright in yah. Mi an everybody get on good. One a mi frien dem a learn mi fi use di pee-cee. Dis a pee-see plus pee-hear cause it have soun! Wi all watch TV pon it. Mi soon get a nice job now cause mi new frien dem in here have big connection.
Dem just a remine mi say you can't read dis letter unless you have your pee-cee to. Maybe you coulda ask Miss Icy if me coulda sen' a letter to you pon fi her website. (Noh badda tell her bout di prison ting.)
You mus' gwan practice a email name fi youself.
Food a come now! Mi wi beg somebody mail dis fi mi. Teck care an don't fret.
Yours,
girly.temporary@
americanprison
Girly spent much longer in prison than she had expected. She eventually got a job and managed to own a computer. Sadly, she was unable to attend the funeral of her mother, who died last year, since she is still without legal status in America.