Creative Writing, Seaview Gardens, Storytelling

Seaview Gardens Jamaica: Wukliss Mumma

It breaks my heart every time I see him; this young boy, abandoned by his mother in every way, though he still lives with her.

People often mouth that she is  a ‘wukliss mumma’.

One of those who spit out children and now they crawl through the pathways of Seaview Gardens, at all hours of the night. I itch to write his story, to declare the injustice which he suffers; I pray for him and am overwhelmed with compassion, because he deserves love and the chance to live a carefree lifestyle.


Ghetto boy
Ghetto boy

Dean walks about the community every day, to and fro and back again. He goes from his relative’s house or combs the pathways for his mother.

No more than 11 years old, he tugs his little brother around and sorrowful eyes follow him wherever he goes. The stench of anger rises within the residents of those eyes. Suffering and abuse has been his constant meal ever since he could remember. It fed him more than physical food which rarely passes his lips. People who lived in the community used to give him food when he was younger. But the day he made the mistake and she found out he ate from a garbage bin, she beat him to near death.

She rarely fed him, she often beat him and it seems she will never love him.

Those were his thoughts about the lady who birthed him; only to neglect him and treat him with constant enmity. He wondered if God ever saw his plight, will ever release him from this sorrow and will ever execute vengeance on his sorry excuse for a mother. No matter, he planned to runaway, as soon as he was sixteen or completed high school; he will never look back.

He loved his Aunt Marie. She gave him even of her last meal and would go hungry just so he could eat. But she too was poor. She had two daughters, a husband in prison and no job; yet, she showed him more love in one day than his mother ever did in a dozen years.

Dean was sure than she was his angel in this life.

Aunty Marie was a warrior and many times she had come to blows with his mother on his behalf. Especially when she saw the wails and cuts his mother had inflicted on him. There was that time she called Child Development Agency and the police, but nothing much came of that. He was still left with the demon that was dead set on making his life a living hell.

His dad was hardly around and when he was, his parents fought and argued more than they breathed air. His grandmother reported the incidents of abuse on many occasions, but what could she do. He felt that she didn’t really care either.

ghetto youths courtesy of khmernz
ghetto youths courtesy of khmernz

Those were dark days after they visited. He got more death threats than ever before. Though she stopped painting him with bruises, cuts, wails and swollen foreheads; he preferred she did, because her wickedness increased in many other ways. Now, not only is he tugging along one brother, for hours, who looked his polar opposite; but the new born is now walking and was now his responsibility. Where there were two, it’s now three. All looked as different as any brothers could be. With his luck, he would have a fourth brother in another year and a half.

It was too much to bear.

Many nights they roam the pathways searching for her. She was either off with her friends, or playing dominoes for as long as the night lasted. Many nights they could not get inside the house, so they sat under the tree lights by the domino table and watched her laugh her face off and gamble their dinner money away.

Many nights the patrons enjoyed themselves but gave them a side eye filled with pity and utter disdain for his mother. She was a ‘wukliss mumma’, they knew that. Yet he and his brothers soaked up the slew of bad words and filthy talk that cocooned them each night.

What would become their faith, only God knows; but he was determined to find an escape…



Copyright © 2015, Denise N. Fyffe

About the writer:
Poetess Denise N. Fyffe has worked in Information Technology positions for fifteen years. She is also a trained counselor and teacher. Meeting the challenges of the recession head on, she transitioned into being a successful freelance writer for many local and international clients.

She has published many books of  including


1 thought on “Seaview Gardens Jamaica: Wukliss Mumma”

  1. Reblogged this on THE ISLAND JOURNAL and commented:

    A ‘wukliss mumma’. One of those who open their legs to men for favours, have the babies and abandon them as soon as they can walk. Spitting out three children and now they crawl through the pathways of Seaview Gardens, constantly and at all hours of the night. I itch to write his story, to declare the truth and injustice which he suffers. It is a crime and no one truly helps.


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