COMMENTARY: BY OSWALD T. BROWN
WASHINGTON, D.C., October 23, 2021—I had a restless night last night as I reflected on the mistakes I made in my life that have resulted in me currently being in one of the most mentally depressing situations in my life.
I became a naturalized American citizen in 1982 after moving to the United States in 1975 because of what I routinely refer to nowadays as “affairs of the heart.” In 1971, I had the good fortune of meeting a beautiful young lady, Camille Brannum, who was a teacher in the Bronx, New York, at the time, while she was vacationing in Nassau.
Camille had a Master’s degree in English from Howard University, and at the time she and I shared an equally committed allegiance to the Black Power movement in the United States. We were married in Washington, D.C., in June of 1973. My good friend and journalistic colleague Cordell Thompson, who was at the time working with Jet Magazine, attended the wedding and arranged for a photo of us cutting the wedding cake to be published in Jet.
After the wedding, Camille resigned her teaching job in New York and moved to Nassau with me. My very good friend, the late Stanley Wilson – brother of Sir Franklyn Wilson – and several other friends who were regulars at the Eagle Rock, a club through Sunlight Village where we were daily patrons, organized a home-coming “reception” for us.
Among the guests at the reception was Livingston Coakley, who at the time was Minister of Education, and when he found out that Camille was a teacher, he invited her to come and see him the next day. A week later, Camille went to work as an English teacher at C.C. Sweeting High School.
At the time, I was the target of overt victimization by the then Progressive Liberal Party government as a result of the fact that I supported the decision by the Dissident Eight to leave the PLP in 1971 and subsequently became founding editor of the FNM’s newspaper, The Torch of Freedom, after the party was established following discussions with “moderate” members of the racist former United Bahamian Party (UBP) government at Jimmy Shepherd’s Spring Hill Farms homestead in Fox Hill.
After the PLP’s victory in the September 1972 general elections and the FNM’s decision to reduce its financial support for The Torch, I no longer had a job. I was still unemployed when Camille moved to The Bahamas with me after we were married. Fortunately, we lived very well on my savings and her income as a teacher.
However, when rumours started circulating that Camille and several other American women who were married to Bahamian men used their regular weekly meetings as a “cover” to meet their boyfriends, because of my insane jealousy, I confronted Camille about this rumour one night when I went home for dinner, which was part of our daily routine.
I shall never forget the night that I went home for dinner and when I opened the door to the living room, Gladys Knight’s “Neither One Of Us Want To Say Goodbye” was playing on the stereo.
When we sat down to dinner, as accurately as I can recall, Camille said, “Honey, we have got to talk. I can’t go on living like this. Your accusation that I have been unfaithful really hurt me. I’m going home. I love you, but we have tried living in your country, let’s try doing so in mine.”
I loved Camille with a passion, so I naturally I agreed to move to the United States. She was under contract to the Ministry of Education until June of 1975, so I initially moved to Miami, where my Aunt Amanda an Uncle Lawrence lived at 1510 N.W., 69th Terrace in Liberty City, in December of 1974. Then in February of 1975, I moved to Washington, D.C., where Camille’s mother had leased an apartment for us at 734 Longfellow Street, N.W., where I lived for 18 years, even though Camille and I were divorced in 1976.
I thought I would provide this background as to why I left The Bahamas because I still love the country of my birth with a passion; however, I am also immensely proud to be a citizen of the United States of America, especially at a time when the democratic principles that undergird the greatness of this country are being denigrated by proponents of evil institutionalized racism. But that’s a topic for discussion at another time.
I really digressed from the original topic that I sat down to write about because for the first time in my life, I would like to admit that one of the greatest mistakes I made in my life was not doing all that I could to ensure that my marriage to Camille Brannum endured the rigors of time. I have been married three times since then, and all three of those marital unions were, for different reasons, very emotionally rewarding, but not on the same level of my love for Camille.
As I mentioned earlier, I had a restless night last night while reflecting on the mistakes I have made in my life. One of the major reasons why this trend of thought is particularly noteworthy is that I am currently faced with eviction if I do not pay back rent that I owe — as stipulated in an eviction notice — before Tuesday, October 26, three days from now. Actually, I would have already been evicted if it were not for the fact that the Federal Government imposed a moratorium on evictions several months ago, but that moratorium has since been lifted and, in my case, will be enforced after October 26.
With winter approaching, obviously I do not want to become homeless in the next couple weeks, so I have notified the new Progressive Liberal Party (PLP) government, headed by Prime Minister Philip “Brave” Davis, about my dire situation, and hopefully it will respond to my appeal in time to prevent me from being evicted.
