After everything I have seen

And known

You pack me up

And send me to what

You call my home.

Home? Yes, I speak

The tongue of shared

Colonisation, but the

Language of where you

Have sent me is not my own.

Home? Yes, plantains fry

Fragrantly, inviting me in,

Into a place that was not mine

To begin with.

Home? How can you

Send me “back” to

Where I never came from?

My grandparents and parents

Made me of you by migration

But my skin colour remains an

Impenetrable border.

• Merlene Ottey of Jamaica runs a qualifying race of the Women's 100...
• Summer Olympics, JAM Juliet Cuthbert and Merlene Ottey on track...

Watching her and Juliet Cuthbert that year, hearing the loud cheers during each race, the screams of anguish from my family and neighbours when Cuthbert experienced an injury during her leg of the 4x100m relay finals, and then hearing the breathless commentary during the recaps of each day’s events during each evening’s news broadcast, I knew then that this ritual of watching our athletes excel at the Olympic Games was no ordinary television programming for Jamaicans. This was a ritual that brought us all together every four years into a sense of community, joy and national pride that made us all forget for a moment about all the poverty, crime, corruption and exploitation plaguing our small island nation. That summer of 1992 was when I first really understood why so many Jamaicans love the saying, “wi likkle but wi tallawah,” which basically translates to “we are small, but we are mighty.”

In 1996, my whole community erupted into what seemed like a never ending stream of excited squeals, clanging of pot covers and exuberant cheers as we watched Ottey and Cuthbert medal in the 4x100m finals and when Deon Hemmings became the first Jamaican woman to win an Olympic gold medal after her turn in the finals of the 400m hurdles.

Deon Hemmings of Jamaica wins gold in the womens 400 metres in the...

Watching Usain Bolt practically take flight for the better part of a decade was nothing short of inspiring. My personal pride in knowing that Shelly-Ann Fraser-Pryce, the fastest woman in the world, is Jamaican is doubled by the knowledge that she is also an alum of my alma mater.

• Usain Bolt of Jamaica competes on his way to breaking the world...
• Shelly-Ann Fraser-Pryce of Jamaica competes in the Women's 100m Round...

It should then come as no surprise that we enjoy watching the Olympics so much. It definitely comes as no surprise to me that so many of my fellow Jamaicans living in Japan are excited about having the games take place here.

When it was first announced that the 2020 games would be held in Tokyo, my first thought was about the heat. For over the last decade of living in Japan, I have had people ask, sometimes even with a sense of certainty, whether I was used to the summers here, and my reply would always be no. I had my very first case of heat exhaustion three years ago right here in my neighbourhood in Saitama Prefecture. I had walked fifteen minutes to a local store to do some shopping, walked fifteen minutes back home and ended up with my skin feeling so burnt by the sun (even though I had been wearing sunscreen) that it practically felt like bacon on a hot skillet. I had a headache and was so dehydrated that I could do nothing else but pass out on my futon for over an hour.

The Olympics in this heat? That’s what I wondered two years ago. A Japanese colleague of mine recently reminded me that when the games were held in Tokyo in 1964, they were held in October to avoid this type of heat exhaustion among athletes. Now, compared to 1964, the average temperature in Tokyo is well over 3 degrees Celsius higher. However, during their bid for the games, Japanese Olympic organisers saw it fit to describe the summer conditions here thus:

“With many days of mild and sunny weather, this period provides an ideal climate for athletes to perform their best.”

How anyone could describe any summer day here as “mild” is puzzling, but then there is also the fact that television ratings at this time of the year are much higher around the world, especially in the United States. So there we have it. The insistence on having the games at this time starts to make a sick sort of sense.

Additionally, I had, in recent years, started to become disillusioned with the games after reading about the economic burden they put on host cities and especially the displacement of poor people caused by building these massive stadiums and Olympic villages, particularly in Rio de Janeiro.

I did not watch the Rio 2016 games live, but I did watch highlights of Team Jamaica’s exploits online. The temptation to watch our athletes do well was too great, and it got the better of me. However, the very idea of these games had started to leave a bitter taste in my mouth. The whole idea of the Olympics being an event that brought the world together was nothing more than window dressing for one of the largest displays of greed at the expense of the underprivileged and exploited.

Tokyo already had some infrastructure in place to host the Olympics — many of the facilities built for the 1964 games are still in use today. However, the push to build all new structures for the games went forward along with whispers of methods being employed to hide the metropolis’s homeless population. Then COVID-19 hit and it seemed like everything would change.

But very little changed. After a very brief lockdown in early 2020, almost everyone went back to work as usual. The percentage of Japan’s workforce that worked from home in May 2020 stood at 31.5%, according to the Japan Productivity Center. In July, that figure dropped to 20.2% and has stood at around 20% since then. If work from home measures were proving to be so difficult to implement in the face of a pandemic, then clearly they were not going to be ready to be implemented to cut down on commuter traffic in Tokyo during the Olympics.

Then there are the measures being taken to contain the virus here. Tokyo is now in another state of emergency while the Olympics are taking place, and what does that even mean? Elsewhere, one would think a state of emergency would include strict curfews, lockdown measures and increase in telework, however, here is what a state of emergency in Tokyo looks like:

“Under the full state of emergency, establishments will be asked to suspend all alcohol sales. Curbs will be tightened even in areas under the quasi emergency, with restaurants and bars asked to stop all alcohol sales regardless of time.

In addition, all restaurants must close by 8 p.m. Governors of prefectures under a full state of emergency are authorized to order businesses to reduce their hours or not open at all. Fines of up to 300,000 yen ($2,720) can be levied upon violators. Operators that comply with the rules will be given cash compensation.”

Additionally, efforts to contain the spread of the coronavirus with the Olympic bubble have been ineffective. Just coordinating the arrival of delegates was chaotic. Delegates arriving for the games were not required to be vaccinated — in one large delegation, approximately one out of six athletes is unvaccinated.

It also seems quite unlikely that the delegates are being contained within the bubble since quite a few of them have created profiles on popular dating apps in search of casual hook-ups while here. Farrah Hasnain, a contributing writer for the Japan Times discovered something disturbing when she opened a popular dating app out of curiosity:

farrah🌹 on Twitter: "Literally logged onto the 🐝 app just to see how many athletes/officials are on there lolllll they really want the variants to win the Games huh / Twitter"

Literally logged onto the 🐝 app just to see how many athletes/officials are on there lolllll they really want the variants to win the Games huh

farrah🌹 on Twitter: "Here are some of the dating profiles I found from people who are working with the Coronalympics. I also found 2 more but accidentally swiped left on them. 😅I am not surprised but this is still quite disturbing, as most of the local population hasn't even gotten vaxxed yet. pic.twitter.com/5FMUzwfwoj / Twitter"

Here are some of the dating profiles I found from people who are working with the Coronalympics. I also found 2 more but accidentally swiped left on them. 😅I am not surprised but this is still quite disturbing, as most of the local population hasn't even gotten vaxxed yet. pic.twitter.com/5FMUzwfwoj

farrah🌹 on Twitter: "Aaaaaand I found an athlete. Googled and confirmed everything. WOW. Didn't a few of them end up testing positive the past few weeks??? pic.twitter.com/fF66kKPvmm / Twitter"

Aaaaaand I found an athlete. Googled and confirmed everything. WOW. Didn't a few of them end up testing positive the past few weeks??? pic.twitter.com/fF66kKPvmm

farrah🌹 on Twitter: "Another sponsored person who flew in from the US. He might have Japanese nationality though so maybe the rules wouldn't apply to him? Not sure. pic.twitter.com/O5T6w6RAi1 / Twitter"

Another sponsored person who flew in from the US. He might have Japanese nationality though so maybe the rules wouldn't apply to him? Not sure. pic.twitter.com/O5T6w6RAi1

You can view the entire thread here.

A friend also sent me uncensored screenshots from another dating app, showing pretty much the same thing — delegates making arrangements to go out and socialise as normal.

If there was ever a time for everything regarding these games to be organised to perfection, it would be now. Grace Lee from CTV News had this to say about her experience acting as the COVID-19 liaison for her organisation:

Grace Lee on Twitter: "For background, the Tokyo2020 Organizing Committee asked all media organizations, delegations and others involved to designate a COVID-19 Liaison, who would be in charge of getting their members into Japan and ensuring they follow coronavirus protocols while here. / Twitter"

For background, the Tokyo2020 Organizing Committee asked all media organizations, delegations and others involved to designate a COVID-19 Liaison, who would be in charge of getting their members into Japan and ensuring they follow coronavirus protocols while here.

Grace Lee on Twitter: "Every single procedure has been convoluted, done through a website that was designed on Office 365 and god, WHY do they insist on every piece of information being sent through an excel sheet? None of their new fancy apps work so all of our info was ultimately sent through e-mail. / Twitter"

Every single procedure has been convoluted, done through a website that was designed on Office 365 and god, WHY do they insist on every piece of information being sent through an excel sheet? None of their new fancy apps work so all of our info was ultimately sent through e-mail.

Grace Lee on Twitter: "Speaking of email, 99% of my emails have gone unanswered. I am supposed to be the liaison between my organization and the organizing committee, but that's REALLY hard when they won't give me the time of day. When they DO answer emails, they can't answer basic questions. / Twitter"

Speaking of email, 99% of my emails have gone unanswered. I am supposed to be the liaison between my organization and the organizing committee, but that's REALLY hard when they won't give me the time of day. When they DO answer emails, they can't answer basic questions.

Grace Lee on Twitter: "For example, I asked a few weeks ago if our registration numbers would become our 'accreditation numbers' - and then act as visas for entry into Japan. It's a simple question, and the answer is yes - I found out later. But the response I got was: "I think so?" / Twitter"

For example, I asked a few weeks ago if our registration numbers would become our 'accreditation numbers' - and then act as visas for entry into Japan. It's a simple question, and the answer is yes - I found out later. But the response I got was: "I think so?"

Grace Lee on Twitter: "Now - they've told us to download an app to monitor our health and to put in our COVID test results. It isn't working for any of my colleagues. I've sent in multiple emails asking for a response - they won't be able to enter Japan without this app running. But so far - nothing. / Twitter"

Now - they've told us to download an app to monitor our health and to put in our COVID test results. It isn't working for any of my colleagues. I've sent in multiple emails asking for a response - they won't be able to enter Japan without this app running.

Read the entire thread here.

This is all against the backdrop of massive opposition to the games even taking place. A poll published earlier this year showed that over 80% of Japanese people were opposed to having the Olympics take place as scheduled. There have been mass protests against the games, including one demonstration outside the Olympic Stadium the night of the opening ceremony:

Jonathan Ellis on Twitter: "Here's the protest just outside Olympic Stadium in Tokyo, which is easily audible inside during quiet moments pic.twitter.com/AUQQrTDjcF / Twitter"

Here's the protest just outside Olympic Stadium in Tokyo, which is easily audible inside during quiet moments pic.twitter.com/AUQQrTDjcF

The organisers of these games simply do not care. They have made it clear that they will go through with these games regardless of the feelings of residents here and regardless of the risk to everyone participating.

My home country is entering a new round of curfews and virus containment measures with the hope of returning to face-to-face schooling in September, but who knows whether these measures will be sufficient to contain any new variants of the virus that will travel back there when Team Jamaica returns home?

We are small, but we are mighty. Will that be enough to weather what comes next?

When you’re old enough

You’ll make a friend

Whose laughter makes you

Heave until you feel

Like your whole chest

Will cave in.

She will make light

Everything dark about

Your outlook;

She will pronounce all

Your fears ridiculous and

Help you laugh at them.

One day,

When you’re old enough

You’ll lose a friend

Whose death makes you

Heave until you feel

Like your whole world

Will cave in.

Her loss will sober

Everything light

About these times.

She would have pronounced

All these happenings ludicrous

And helped you laugh at them.

When I opened the message from S, I involuntarily exclaimed, “oh my god!” then showed the message to C, who did the same. During the subsequent days, I would describe how I felt in that moment as a feeling of shock, though in reality, I had no words for how I felt. I still have no words now for how I felt then.

When you feel your emotional responses shut down like a row of storm shutters closing in quick succession, is that what shock is?

When you find yourself looking at the same message over and over, expecting to discover something that will make the news it disclosed feel real, is that shock?

“…she passed away last year…”

What more was there to say other than the specifics? What could have been more final than that? Yet, I kept reading and rereading the message, hoping to find some proof of your passing in S’s phrasing, in the spaces between the words, even in the punctuation.

“…she passed away last year…”

The “she” in that sentence still seems a bit foreign to me. There was no way “she” could have been you. You were busy trying to build your own business — that explained the months that would go by without contact. We were going to catch up before the end of the year as we usually do. And what a year this one has been. Would “she” have had anything sarcastic or hilariously inappropriate to say about the pandemic? The political news? All the ridiculous celebrity gossip?

“…she passed away last year…”

The more I read the message that night, the more hostile that “she” started to feel. Midnight came and I decided to stay up for another hour. Then another hour passed. Then two more. When the sun came up, I was still playing video games, blocking out all thoughts of that dubious “she”.

The Second Stage

There are so many articles, Instagram info graphics and memes that tell us there is no inappropriate way to grieve. Of course, they’re only talking about the outward expressions of grief- whether to cry or not cry, wear black or bright colours at the funeral, take selfies at the gravesite etc. — but scarcely anything about what is appropriate to think while grieving. Right now, you would probably say something like, “who cares? These are just your thoughts.”

For the whole week after I got the message from S, my mind was a jumble of random musings that came and went between teaching preschoolers and riding the stressfully crowded trains to and from work. I often caught myself thinking:

Well, at least she’s not alive to experience this nightmare of a year.

God, I hope it wasn’t painful.

Am I a shitty friend?

Who found her?

What was she wearing when she was found?

Am I a shitty friend?

Who do I blame for this?

Where did it happen?

Am I a shitty friend?

I met with S at the end of that full week after receiving her message and talked about what happened. We caught up with each other too. She seems to be doing great. You would be happy for her.

She misses you so much. We both feel a great measure of guilt (S, especially). You, of course, would tell us not to feel this way, if you could. However, you can’t — a fact that I am slowly starting to accept. A fact that still need to fully accept.

The Third Stage

It’s been two weeks since I sat with S to talk about the particulars surrounding your death. We have started letting more of her friends know, and I have to say it has been really strange to use that word, death, when talking about you.

As for how I feel, I am still in an emotional space that has no words to describe or name it. I wish I could feel sad. Sometimes, I worry that one day, the sadness will come crashing down on me, utterly destroying me. At other times, I worry that, even worse than feeling sad, I may never feel anything at all, in which case, what would I do? You can talk through sadness, but what is there to do with nothing? What is there to do with a nameless, un-nameable feeling?

The thing is, you would do a great job of cheering me up right now, but you are not here. I have to keep reminding myself that you are not here.

“…she passed away last year…”

You passed away last year. You, my friend, not some abstract “she”. You are gone, and I might cry about it at some stage.