Double Vision : A Journey to Success [1 ed.] 9781940002460

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Authors: Wayne Caines and Dwayne Caines Copyright © 2014 All rights reserved. Wayne Caines and Dwayne Caines The author assumes full responsibility for the accuracy of facts and quotations as cited in this book. Editor: Spring Hawk Publications, LLC Photographer: Shawn Simmons aka Mr. Fotogenik Creative Director: Jakai Franks Front Cover and Interior Design: Daryl S. Anderson Sr., Spirit Reign Communications and Publications Back Cover Design: David Anderson, Spirit Reign Communications and Publishing Printed in the United States of America. ISBN: 978-1-940002-44-6 (HB) ISBN: 978-1-940002-45-3 (ePUB) ISBN: 978-1-940002-46-0 (ePDF)

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Table of Contents Table of Contents......................................................................................... 6 Dedications and Thank You’s..................................................................... 8 Endorsements............................................................................................ 11 Foreword..................................................................................................... 25 Chapter 1: Chapter 2: Chapter 3: Chapter 4: Chapter 5: Chapter 6: Chapter 7: Chapter 8: Chapter 9: Chapter 10: Chapter 11: Chapter 12: Chapter 13: Chapter 14: Chapter 15: Chapter 16: Chapter 17: Chapter 18: Chapter 19: Chapter 20: Chapter 21: Chapter 22: Chapter 23: Chapter 24: Chapter 25: Chapter 26: Chapter 27: Chapter 28:

What it’s like to be a Twin: Dwayne A. Caines.............. 29 From the Root to the Fruit: Dwayne A. Caines............. 35 Our Faith, the Early Years: Wayne M. Caines................ 43 Who Can’t Hear Must Feel: Wayne M. Caines.............. 55 Mommy, the love of a Mother: Wayne M. Caines......... 61 Vision Vigor Victory (VVV): Wayne M. Caines........... 71 School Haze and School Days: Dwayne A. Caines....... 77 Can I Come With the Big Dogs?: Wayne M. Caines..... 87 Who Threw That Egg?: Wayne M. Caines...................... 95 Slyer: Wayne M. Caines.................................................... 103 The Bike, the Porch and Sour 16: Wayne M. Caines....109 “Catch Me if You Can”: Dwayne A. Caines.................. 115 Don’t Give Up Cainesey: Wayne M. Caines................. 121 Coming to America: Wayne M. Caines........................ 127 Willing, Succeeding and Black: Dwayne A. Caines.... 137 One Drive, Buick Riviera: Dwayne A. Caines............. 145 Law and No Order: Wayne M. Caines.......................... 153 Homie, Lover, Friend: Wayne M. Caines..................... 161 You’re in the Army Now: Wayne M. Caines................ 173 Crown Counsel: Wayne M. Caines............................... 181 Here Comes the Chief: Wayne M. Caines.................... 191 CEO/Order My Steps: Wayne M. Caines..................... 201 New Life, New Reality: Dwayne A. Caines.................. 209 Motor City Madness: Dwayne A. Caines..................... 221 Life in the Big Apple: Dwayne A. Caines..................... 231 Building A Home: Dwayne A. Caines.......................... 243 De Media Mon: Dwayne A. Caines.............................. 249 Lessons Learned (Faith): Dwayne A. Caines............... 273 6

SPIRIT REIGN PUBLISHING

A DIVISION OF SPIRIT REIGN COMMUNICATIONS

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Dedications & Thank You’s Wayne Caines: Dedication

I would like to dedicate this book first and foremost to God, as He is the true source of my strength. I would like to dedicate this book to my life’s partner Maxanne, “Gibraltar”. Thank-you for believing in me, keeping my feet to the fire, and never giving up on me. You listened to my dreams and aspirations and helped transform my dreams into a reality. To my daughter, Maxanne, II, you are the best of your mom and me combined. You keep me honest and humble. You are my Ace, love you like LIFE ! I would like to thank my mom and dad for believing in me and never giving up on me. You are the best parents a child could ever ask for. If I had one thousand tongues, I still could not say thank-you enough. Lastly, I would like to dedicate this book to my grandmother, Levina Nathan, who is the matriarch and the spiritual root of our family. Wayne Caines: Thank You’s To my brother, Travis, though this book highlights Dwayne and me, I would like you to know that you are an amazing man. I love you more than words can ever express and know that we are bonded for life. To my sister, Shereen, thanks for being a rock in my life, you are such a wonderful example of a virtuous woman. My Aunt Marcia, thank-you for always being there for me and my 8

family. To my Uncle Rollin, thank-you for your steadfast support, mentorship and love. To my mother in law, Jennifer, I thank-you for playing such an important role in our life, you are wonderful and I love you. I would also like to give a shout out to all of my nieces, nephews, cousins, aunts and uncles. I love you all. To Mason West, Noel Hayward, Lou Matthews, Shannon James, Barclay Simmons, Stanley James, and Owen Simons, thank-you for your gift of friendship. Thank-you all for pushing me and encouraging me to write this book. To my mentor, James A. Landy, thank-you for your guidance and support. To my Brother in Law Herman Jr, you are a man I have grown to respect, love and depend on. Thank-you for being a constant in our lives. Dwayne and Wayne would like to thank the following: Deshay Caines, Maxanne Caines, Roshanda Caines, Lou Matthews, Patrick Bean, Patrick Burgess, Lakeitha Cunningham, Eron Hill, Tracey Johnson, Mr. Fotogenic and Zuedi Hinds for the photographs. We would like to thank Spirit Reign Publishers and Jeremy Anderson, COO of Spirit Reign Publishing. We would like to thank all of our family in Bermuda, Jamaica and New York who have guided and loved us on our life’s journey. We would like to acknowledge our church family, the Hamilton SDA Church who has been a major part of our development over the years. We would like to thank our colleagues at Digicel and the Bermuda Police Service and the men of Alpha Phi Alpha, Incorporated - Epsilon Theta Lambda Chapter, Rho Chi Chapter and Delta Theta Lambda Chapter. To our younger cousins, we believe in you and the best is yet to come.

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Dwayne Caines: Dedication I would like to dedicate this book to my wife, Roshanda and to my three daughter’s Deshay, Dasha and Dori. They are the reason that I am motivated to get up every morning and to be a better man. I would also like to dedicate this book to my mother and father for the foundation they established for us. I will proudly stand on their foundation and make life better for others. Lastly, I would like to dedicate this book to young men and women who may be trying to find themselves and to parents who are struggling….Don’t give up! Believe! Dwayne Caines: Thank-You’s I would like to thank my parents for their undying love and their guidance. I would like to thank my brother Travis, who is my rock and confidant. Travis, you are true, loyal and honorable. To my sister Shereen, you have led consistently by example and I love you. Thank you Aunt Marcia for always being there through the thick and the thin. Thank you Uncle Rollin for being such a positive role model. I would like to thank James Landy, the ultimate mentor, for your friendship and guidance. I would like to thank my very special friends, Dr. Lou Matthews, Vaughn King, Derrick Green, Mason West, Barclay Simmons, Jason Green, Omar Pennyman, Kwame Webson, and Roxanne Christopher. Thank you to my professional mentor, Rick Richardson, for taking a risk on me 23 years ago. Thank you to my colleague and friend, Robin Simmons for your support over the past 12 years. My wife’s family in Alabama (Clays & Kellys) and my Mother-inLaw (Mama Clay) and family in Atlanta.

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Endorsements I have known Wayne and Dwayne Caines through our Church, the Bermuda Regiment, our dear fraternity, and as friends. Collectively and individually, they bring their values, humor, strength of character, loyalty and love for Christ to every doorstep they cross. Of course, in a community as tightly knit as Bermuda, I have also encountered them professionally. As CEO of Digicel Bermuda, Wayne has transformed the local telecommunications landscape into one of the most modern and competitive in the region. Dwayne as Senior Police Media Relations Officer has been the face of the Police Service and the voice of reason during one of the most tumultuous periods in Bermuda’s history when gun crime had spiraled out of control. God has selected each man for his respective mission, and they have performed them well. Barclay Simmons Chief Executive Officer ASW Law Limited

I have had the distinct honor and pleasure of being associated with the Caines family for over 15 years and my life has been richly blessed by them. My initiation into the Caines world came through Wayne, who arrived at Warwick Camp as a scrawny, seemingly cocky and assured civilian who knew his place in the world. Through him I met his equally assured twin Dwayne and the rest of his family. 11

I was immediately drawn to Wayne because of his lively and confident persona. He was sure of himself, could articulate well any point he was making and most significantly for me, was unabashedly proud of his heritage as a black man with Bermudian and Jamaican roots. I could tell myriad stories about Wayne’s antics in the Regiment but, the one that stands out to me was when we were in Jamaica training in the rugged hills of Portland, miles from our camp, Lt Caines and his platoon happened upon an elderly man on his horse going about his pastoral duties. That man was none other than Lt. Caines’ maternal grandfather. How rich is that? Captain Wayne Caines, likewise his twin and other brother Travis, has always exemplified what a strong, God-fearing, honorable and confident man should look like and I admire that about him. This may sound odd but, the most significant thing to me about the Caines twins are their parents. A tree is known by its fruit and therefore, the Caines tree is a very solid, healthy and prosperous one. For Mr. and Mrs. Caines to produce two of the most upstanding young men I have ever had the privilege of knowing is an astonishing achievement. I have absolutely no compunction in saying that I greatly admire and respect Wayne and Dwayne, and love them and their families dearly. Lieutenant Colonel Edward J. Lamb, ED, tacsc Commissioner of Corrections

I have worked closely with Wayne, who was my Chief of Staff until he was recruited by Digicel as the first CEO of their Bermuda operation. Wayne is outstanding in so many ways. He is a good listener, a clear thinker and unafraid to execute the agenda in a sometimes hostile environment. His only “challenge” in the

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Cabinet Office was that he liked bright-colored shirts and dazzling pastel ties. We fixed that early in the relationship! Through Wayne I have come to know his twin Dwayne (and how to tell the difference!). It’s impossible for me to think of these young men and their accomplishments without thinking of the source of their energy, clarity and dedication to our community. It’s called FAMILY. Their parents, especially their mom, are overflowing with unbridled commitment to the betterment of their society. The twins’ educational experiences have added to the long list of reasons they have flourished so early in life. These young Black male gems have an arrow pointed straight to the sky! Dr. the Hon. Ewart F. Brown Former Premier of Bermuda

They laugh harder, they play with more passion, they cry more deeply and they fight most fearlessly. The Caines twins have been set in the world as watchmen who have been given a work of most solemn importance, to be our example and our defender. They are called to guide us to a brighter light. Haunted by a divine calling to do something big they are faithful in small things! In a short time Wayne and Dwayne Caines have made an indelible impression on their generation in Bermuda. Through comedy, service, spirituality and politics they have spanned the gamut of human experience. I am often buoyed by their laughter that fills every room and moved by their private tears that stain their ties…they are the echoes of our deepest strivings. They are human. We all want to see what God is going to do with the Caines’… I remember walking along Happy Valley when they were teenagers and moved by a deep awareness that I was walking

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with giants. They were younger than I, yet as we looked from Fort Hamilton and spanned the country, I knew I was with future leaders of Bermuda who were called to deliver Justice. I also knew that I had a responsibility to be more than just a friend I was called to be a brother. I have watched God use their social influence like a laser and shape men and women in and beyond the shores of Bermuda. They have effortlessly taught profound life lessons by precept and example and are diligent students of life. Wayne is deeply introspective and extremely sensitive. Dwayne’s insight and his pragmatism is enviable. Their bold exterior betrays their vulnerabilities and capacity for compassion. Yet that is what makes them lovable, they really do care. These brothers jealously guard their feelings and unapologetically protect their friends. While they are fierce and quick witted, they wait on the voice of God and walk under angels wings. I have had the privilege of being a covering for them at times and being covered by them as well. This is their moment and they are discharging their task with alacrity and aplomb. I am indebted to them for their friendship and am excited to see what will be left behind on our shores in their wake. It gives me great pleasure to endorse this must read, of these men in whom I had the distinct privilege of watching their journey from boys to men. I guarantee all that read this book will be inspired, encouraged and find hope to hold on to or to share with others. As you take this journey with these men whom love their God, family and their community be blessed. Thank you Wayne and Dwayne for sharing with us this portion of your journey. May God continue to lead, guide and direct you as you journey on. Mentor, brother and friend, James A Landy.

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Wayne and Dwayne Caines, though still relatively young men, have packed into their few short years a lifetime’s worth of experience and influence. When it comes to dedication, commitment, and raw passion, theirs finds no equal. They expect so much of others because they demand so much of themselves. At Oakwood University in Huntsville, Alabama, they made their mark. When conventional leadership tracks were earmarked for others, they carved out their own. They are undeterred by criticism and unfettered by limitations. They believe in analyzing and then strategizing. They make mistakes, but they remain unfazed. Their lives appear to be guided by the maxim, “A just man falleth seven times, and riseth up again” (Proverbs 24:16). They are not conditioned by the past, they are not afraid of the present, and they are not daunted by the future. Bermuda has been blessed to own them, but she has not been able to contain them. The tentacles of their influence have reached into Europe, Asia, Africa, the Caribbean, the Americas, and the Caribbean. They were born by us, but they do not belong to us. They belong to the ages, and we are blessed to have been around as these mighty meteors of godliness passed our way. Jeffrey O. Brown, Ph.D. President, Bermuda Conference

My first working relationship with Wayne has been through our involvement on the Board of the Chamber of Commerce. I have always respected his high level of integrity and willingness to speak on issues even if it means going against the flow of opinion. Certainly he has a very convincing way of passionately laying out his perspectives on an issue which has successfully resulted in the group considering solutions from a different angle. I have

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never met Dwayne personally however his handling of public announcements representing the Police Service over the past few years, given the severity of some of the crimes has been admirable. In addition, I know that both are heavily involved in their Church and are active in the community at large most recently with their Free Back to School haircut and School Supplies program in the latter part of 2013. Ronnie Viera CISSP, CISM, CISA Chairman, Bermuda Chamber of Commerce

The Caines brothers were born with what many consider a double-disadvantage - they are black, and they are male. Yet, because of the double blessings of a relationship with God and being raised by diligent parents, these brothers have emerged beyond stereotypes and have become role models for the youth of today. As a pastor, I am particularly blessed as Wayne and Dwayne walk out their respective professions as Christians. In this day, they are excellent examples that we can be fun, loving, and successful children of God. Their ability to be serious about education, sensitive and realistic concerning the times in which we live, and able to show forth joy and laughter is extraordinary and impressive. I pray that this book will speak to the hearts of many young people from all facets of life, encouraging them to go for their dreams and become more than anyone could have ever imagined. Pastor, Maria A. Seaman Shekinah Worship Centre, Bermuda

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I have known Dwayne and Wayne Caines for 24 years. What I have appreciated about these gentlemen that entire time is their willingness to challenge themselves in all aspects of life and their ability to overcome obstacles that easily hinder others. These gentlemen have served as leaders in different capacities wherever they have been and in that capacity they have always sought to level the playing field so all whom they engaged would have the opportunity to reach their full potential. My greatest memory of Wayne and Dwayne is listening to them on the radio calming an entire island during a hurricane. My family and I sat in a darkened living room with a battery operated radio while raging winds blew around the house. We were not afraid because we were distracted by the jokes, personal stories and prayers of these gentlemen while they brought peace in the midst of a storm. This is who they are and what they have always been. Whether it be social, educational, religious or political arena, they bring laughter; they bring resolve; they bring peace in the midst of other’s storms. Mason West CEO, The Mason West Group

I have known Dwayne and Wayne for most of my life from a distance but it’s over the last 8 years in my capacity as a pastor where I have really gotten to know them a lot better. I have seen that they have a passion for service and over the years that passion has lead them to hold multiple positions in their church where they have helped the faith community make an impact on the island of Bermuda. Additionally I have found that both of them bring tremendous passion to whatever area they are serving in. Where others see obstacles Dwayne and Wayne have consistently seen opportunities and have routinely turned those opportunities

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into gold. Whether it’s working as a civil servant, leading a large company, teaching in a GED program, heightening community awareness or organizing multiple community initiatives Dwayne and Wayne put their best foot forward and raise the standard wherever they are. Over the year I have been particularly impressed with their desire to give back to the community of Bermuda and how they are constantly trying to utilize new and non-traditional ways in which they can serve their country by uplifting its people and helping individuals make a better life for themselves. Dwayne and Wayne are loving husbands, fantastic fathers, model citizens, excellent role models and awesome Christians and it has been my extreme pleasure to watch what God has done and is continuing to do in their lives and the impact it’s had on the island of Bermuda. Damon E. Hendrickson Pastor of the Midland Heights Church, Associate Media Director, Bermuda Conference of Seventh-Day Adventists

I have just known Wayne and Dwayne for a year. However, its not too short to give a true description about the personal encounter I have had with them as it seem as if I have met them for ages. I was gravitated by their huge appetite to excel in life against the odds. When the world has a perception about black men, they never stop to prove the world wrong. I have observed how they have given back to their church and they are very active in their individual portfolios, their passion and love that they have for their Maker and King cannot be explained. They have also been a source and strength to the young persons that have come in contact, as they would make themselves available to give advice and guidance. Professionally they have given their lives to the people of their country, even sometimes to the detriment 18

of their families, saying that to say that they have an interest in people, and would go the extra mile to accommodate and assist people. They can be misquoted at times because of the passion that they have, there is never be a dull moment around them, they would take over the show to ensure that everyone is comfortable and happy. I am glad that I have met them, they have a lot offer to the country and the world at large and they are destined for great things. I am proud of their developments and the sky’s the limit for them. Robert Miller JP MBA Director Northern Caribbean University (Kingston Campus) Advisor to the Leader of the Opposition Hon. Andrew Holness (Jamaica)

I first became acquainted with “The Caines Brothers” or “The Caines Twins” in 1998 during the lead-up to the November 9, 1998 General Election. While I was familiar with their parents, Shurnette and Michael Caines, I really did not know the children. However, once I met twins, Dwayne and Wayne, I could not forget them. Although that was over ten years ago, I still have a problem knowing one from the other. Their voices are very similar and in my mind they appear identical. I do know that one is more of a dapper dresser than the other, but then again, I could be mistaken there, because, as I said they look so much alike. I have always found “The Caines Brothers” to be, first and foremost, respectful of their elders. I have sat in PLP meetings with them, and while they may not agree with what is being said by others in attendance at those meetings, they are never disrespectful in their responses. They may disagree, but I have never seen them be disagreeable. Although some will say that the Caines Twins are silvery tongued as they both are spokespersons in their own right, either 19

for their church or the organizations for which they work, no one could ever accuse the “Caines Twins” of being born with “silver spoons” in their mouths. In fact, all of us who know the Caines family, know that Shurnette and Michael Caines struggled like most Bermudians to ensure that their children would be as comfortable on Front Street as they would be on Court Street. I am more familiar with Wayne as he spent some time as Chief of Staff for former Premier, Dr. Ewart Brown and he was also a Senator. I will say that I believe that Dwayne and Wayne Caines are true role models for not only Bermuda’s young, people but for any young person that they come into contact with in their travels. The Hon. Derrick Burgess, JP, MP

Wayne and Dwayne Caines are men of impeccable strength, faith and character. As long serving members of Alpha Phi Alpha Fraternity Incorporated these paternal and fraternal Brothers have been instrumental in the advancement of the ideals of fraternity in the United States, Bermuda and beyond. These men embody the aims of our organization- Manly Deeds, Scholarship, and Love for all Mankind and continue to work tirelessly to enhance the social fabric of our society through innovative community projects, mentorship, and inspirational leadership. Congratulations Brothers! The men of Epsilon Theta Lambda Chapter of our beloved Fraternity salute you! On a more personal level, these men exemplify the kind of positive influence so desperately sought after for our young men today. With an unerring willingness to provide wise counsel, emotional and financial support, Wayne and Dwayne have been deeply impactful in shaping the lives of many young men, including 20

me. These brothers have two huge hearts! Because of their faith and vision to see the good in people, I have been inspired not only to strive for personal greatness, but also to inspire others to reach their full potential. Brother Lloyd Holder, President Epsilon Theta Lambda Chapter of Alpha Phi Alpha Fraternity Incorporated

“I vividly remember seeing Wayne and Dwayne for the first time at a forum when they, and I, were just teenagers. I was mesmerized by these two indistinguishable young men in the public gallery who, with intellectual alacrity and tag-team like collaboration, respectfully eviscerated the erroneous positions taken by certain members on the panel. It was then that it was crystal clear to me that Wayne and Dwayne had that certain “je ne sais quoi”. Over the years, whilst “knowing of ” Wayne and Dwayne I did not come to meet them until some 15 years later. As serendipity would have it, our world’s would overlap in the year 2000 when Wayne became employed as a Crown Counsel in the Department of Public Prosecutions. While I was tasked with the responsibility of providing him with strict legal tutelage it was he who taught me that the pursuit of justice should not just be for the victims of crime but it should equally be for the perpetrators of crime, however heinous their crime may be. It was Wayne’s overriding objective for the proper administration of justice that made him an extremely effective, and well respected, prosecutor. It was through Wayne that I met Dwayne, and while it may be boringly redundant to speak of their genetic similarities it is worth noting that their intangibles are too strikingly similar. In his role as the Bermuda Police Media Relations manager Dwayne

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could play it safe and just report the facts. However, the humanity and compassion that Dwayne conveys his reports to the wider Bermudian public is noteworthy. So much so that his voice is a trusted and comforting one in circumstances, which are often unimaginably gruesome. Given the tumultuous road that Wayne and Dwayne have travelled they would be easily forgiven if they were cynical and bitter. Yet, through their unwavering resolve and the undying support of their Mother, Father, wives and children, they, personifying a Maya Angelou composition, still rise from the ashes. It is indeed a privilege to know and learn from them. The Worshipful Juan P. Wolffe JP Magistrate & Coroner

Wayne and Dwayne Caines are twins who I like to call the “dynamic duo”, no pun intended. They are two men who have been able to rise and surmount every negative obstacle that has been put into their way. With unwavering faith in God and having a strong work ethic, they have become men to be admired and emulated. They are family men, community activists, sports men, educators and professionals. I firmly believe that their book will be a profound resource for future generations! Apostle Jimmie R. Denwiddie Sr. JP Senior Pastor New Creation Worship Center

Wayne and Dwayne Caines are my friends, colleagues, and two of the most dynamic Christians in the Hamilton Seventh-day Adventist Church, and the Bermuda Conference family. The once 22

“Caines boys,” as early teens, were funny, mouthy, mischievous, yet very respectful. They were the most involved youth of every youth program in church life, which has given them the best training for the platforms they have occupied on life’s stage. Wayne and Dwayne Caines are proof of the Adventist philosophy that church, home, and the school, produce productive citizens for this life, and the world to come. They are some of the most progressive, proactive, respectful, and respected, educated individuals anywhere. They have their hands on the pulse of life, and both are movers and shakers in their sphere of influence. Their contributions to the Island have influenced multitudes of families, churches, corporations, yea our very own Government through their innovative projects, programs, ideals, and countless initiatives that they have sponsored. Simply put; they are some of Bermuda’s finest and most distinguished men, with unique gifts. They are appreciated and respected in the highest echelons of society. They are a testament to the God they serve, their family, and their church. Pastor Kenneth L.E. Manders Hamilton Seventh-Day Adventist Church Hamilton, Bermuda

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Foreword

Double Vision: A Journey of Success The challenge for every parent is how to nurture their children to become productive citizens; of how to instill values and discipline in them to become men and women of distinction. ‘Double Vision: A Story of Success’ is a book that provides solid advice on how to accomplish these formidable goals as it chronicles the journey of twins: Wayne and Dwayne Caines and the challenges, adventures and successes they encountered while growing up in Bermuda. As young men from humble beginnings, who were raised on a solid Christian foundation, this book will bring encouragement to parents, youth leaders and any adult who knows the difficulties associated with raising strong-willed and outspoken youngsters. For young people, it will provide you with a sense of hope as you read the stories of two insecure, undisciplined teenagers who have gone on to become outstanding role models . You’ll laugh as both Wayne and Dwayne share stories of the antics that only twins could concoct, like each of them taking turns while running a marathon as a single entrant! You’ll be inspired as they openly reveal the very real 25

challenges associated with Island living and their individual challenges: with one having dyslexia and the other becoming a teen-aged parent. Yet despite these odds and refusing to let their circumstances define them, each has found their purpose in life and has grown into very successful, contributing members of Bermuda’s business, political, spiritual and social arenas with a strong sense of obligation to serve our community through their many initiatives. Personally, I have had the pleasure of knowing both Wayne and Dwayne for over 30 years. I’ve been impressed as I have watched their development throughout that time. We have maintained positive interactions and meaningful friendships, as we share the same strong belief in God and our dedication to serving Bermuda. When I learned that they were writing this book, I had no doubt that they would be successful - I know their work ethic and I am proud of their extraordinary achievements. I applaud their fearlessness as they embark on yet another challenge -to inspire and motivate a future generation of leaders by writing this book. I strongly urge you to read “Double Vision: A Story of Success”. Why? Because in a very complex world with its many distractions, you need to find a focus. So, if there is even a spark of desire to find your purpose, I encourage you to read this book and kindle that fire. The poignant stories contained herein will paint a picture that all can aspire to and offer real hope that God can use anybody to make a difference in the world. He did it for me. He did it for both Wayne and Dwayne Caines and He can do it for you! Yours sincerely, Hon. Craig Cannonier, JP, MP Premier

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All who would win joy must share it; happiness was born a twin. -Lord Byron

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CHAPTER ONE (What it’s like to be a Twin) Dwayne A. Caines

Though our walks appear distinctly similar, our paths have been uniquely ordered … yet few look beyond our walking style. Examining the characteristics and physiology of identical and fraternal twins has been the basis of countless studies down through the ages. Being a twin creates a sibling relationship that most people wouldn’t understand for obvious reasons as most can never experience the situation of being trapped in a liquid filled cocoon for up to nine months prior to birth. And then beyond you have to live with the fact that attention toward you is constantly a shared event. Put succinctly it’s an indescribable bond like no other. One of the most significant advantages to having a twin is that there’s always someone by your side; a constant companion, playmate and confidant, a second set of eyes, ears, and another nose and mouth that sometimes irritate to no end. Your twin is someone who knows you intimately, through and through and has your back. Each understands the depth of the other’s heart, spirit and personality. Such is the case with Wayne and me. We were so extremely 29

identical that to this day when we look at childhood pictures of ourselves, we cannot tell who’s who. Imagine looking at a picture of yourself and your brother and not knowing which one is you and which one is your brother. Many of our family members were only able to tell us apart when an accident, at about age five or six, left me with a scar on my forehead, and Wayne had a small scar on his finger. If not for those distinctive marks, our own family would not have been able to tell us apart. Our mother speaks of when we were babies and she rocked us in her arms — not knowing which one she picked up or which one she put down. Eventually, she put little bands on us so she could tell us apart. We were mirror images in every way. Our parents bought us identical everything; clothes, shoes, every accessory was the same. Most people thought it was endearing, sweet or adorable to be a carbon copy, and although Wayne and I were accustomed to being duplicates, we still yearned for our own individuality. We wanted people to realize we were separate individuals and not a single entity. Even when we were spoken of, we were referred to as the Caines twins or just the twins. Oftentimes, people made lighthearted jokes about our names being Dwayne and Wayne. In 1983 when Rap Music was sweeping the world, artists like Kool Moe Dee and Run /DMC had everyone wanting a Boom Box; a gigantic stereo to carry as a dumbbell with noise around on your shoulder like the rappers did. Wayne and I told our parents it was the thing we wanted …the only thing we wanted. That Christmas, we raced to the tree bubbling over with excitement and, lo and behold, there was a Boom Box—but only one. My mother, the resident electronics expert of the time, said it was for both of us to share. Her reasoning was such that as it had a dual cassette player …one side was dedicated for me and the other – of course - Wayne. That’s how it has always been for us. We never got separate gifts but shared everything. No one 30

dealt with us on a separate basis; we were viewed in the singular notation… one person, and all the while we were each struggling to take possession of our own identity. Unless you are a twin you likely don’t comprehend the yearning to be your own person; distinctive and unique and not just the other half of a twinship. You want people to recognize you in your own right, nevertheless we had to fight and toil long for this individuality and it came at cost in all sectors. When we were kids, we devised a plan to keep from ever getting into trouble, ingeniously unoriginally deciding that if each shifted blame to the other, no one would ever really know who the guilty party was. I would blame Wayne and he would blame me, so that way we could confuse people enough – or at least delay recognition - that neither of us would be punished. On the surface it seemed like a good plan, but our mother – as always - outsmarted us, explaining how if either of us did anything wrong, we’d be punished equally so … and so went our plan, Mother again triumphant. There are so many things that are inherently common for identical twins as they go through life. One of the things I encountered incessantly was mistaken identity. I’ve spent most of my life saying “it’s my brother, not me.” I remember one extremely outrageous incident that took place in the courthouse. Wayne was a prosecutor and, as such, he put a lot of unscrupulous people behind bars. I worked for the Bermuda Police Service, so on occasions I’d be at the courthouse also. One day while at the courthouse, Wayne warned me to be careful of a prisoner who was in court that day with a Corrections Officer. This man disliked Wayne quite a bit because Wayne was directly responsible for putting him away for a significant amount of time. As I entered the courtroom, the man (in shackles and handcuffs) thought I was Wayne and started yelling, “I remember you, you no good black bastard! It’s your fault I’m in jail.” The Corrections Officer 31

was telling him he had the wrong person but the prisoner didn’t believe him, he kept yelling and screaming at me to the top of his lungs. Finally, the Corrections Officer took the man into the courtroom where Wayne was, just to prove to him he was mistaken. When the prisoner saw Wayne, his eyes got bigger than golf balls and he screamed, “Oh my God, there are two of those black bastards!” At that point, all we could do was chuckle. The whole thing became rather comical, even the Corrections Officer expressed amusement. Admittedly that’s one of the more extreme cases of mistaken identity, whereby as a twin you’re subjected to on a regular basis. Wayne and I have had a genuine connection all of our lives, it’s tangible and real, not mystical imagination. There were times we would show up to our respective jobs wearing the same clothes. We lived about ten miles apart and neither had any idea what the other had put on for work that day yet we’d constitute the same thing. There were even times we lived on different continents and still bought and wore the same clothing. We’ve been in different countries and came down with identical illnesses on the same day, and recovered in the same time period. These inexplicable occurrences are historically synonymous with twins, sometimes it truly is like being one person, but through all the baffling wonders you still want uniqueness. As we grew older, we had our separate lives as far as hobbies and the like, friends and so on. There were activities we both enjoyed together and separately. We had mutual friends and distinct friends. When it comes to friendships, those who get to know you as an individual are the true friends. They don’t see you as one-half of a unit; they take time to really know you as one human being. When I hear someone say they can’t tell us apart, to me, that’s an indication that they haven’t taken the time to get to know us well enough to identify our unique differences. 32

The oneness and unity that twins share can be a beautiful thing. However, sometimes the constant attachment can take a toll on the relationship, and each can become a source of irritation to the other. There are few things more devastating than twins fighting. It’s akin to wrestling with one’s very own self. Like forcing your fist through a mirror and watching it crash to the ground. Growing up, our parents were adamant that Wayne and I never fight. They said the saddest moments in their lives were the times Wayne and I fought. It was psychologically damaging to our parents and to us. You don’t realize it, but the psychological and emotional harm far outweigh the physical. Yet, conflict was difficult to avoid. Wayne and I had gotten to a point where everything we did caused consternation. As a twin, you’re so close that you know the other’s pet peeves and everything that triggers conflict; those are the things that ultimately cause division. There was an incident that occurred while Wayne and I were students at Oakwood College in Alabama. He and I had an argument that escalated into a physical fight. Our friends who witnessed it actually wept because it was the strangest and hardest thing they’d ever seen. They described it as being like two trains colliding. We went through a period of continual conflict and stopped communicating with each other for almost fourteen months. Our irritation with one another was born out of our desire for space and individuality; that was a constant quest. We needed time apart to discover ourselves as separate people. We completely detached from each other in pursuit of independence. We enrolled in different colleges in different parts of the world, one in Detroit, Michigan and one in London, England. Detachment from Wayne was painful, but necessary. He and I needed to become separate individuals for the good of both of us and for the sake of maintaining a loving brotherly relationship. 33

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CHAPTER TWO (From the Root to the Fruit) Dwayne A. Caines

Oftentimes, it’s difficult to fully understand the fruit unless you know the root from which it came. Our parents were the guiding, motivating forces in our lives and we are products of them. Our mother, Shurnett Caines, is from a small parish on the beautiful island of Jamaica, and she’s the second of nine siblings. She saw an advertisement for nurses in Bermuda and chose to pursue the opportunity. She arrived in Bermuda with two bags, one held her clothes and nursing uniforms and the other held her hopes, dreams and ambitions. She went to work at King Edward Memorial Hospital. In an attempt to better herself, she felt the need to take a typing class. The instructor of that class was a Mr. Michael Caines. Their meeting was like kismet and they had what can only be described as a storybook romance that led to marriage. My parents are unique in that they were of different faiths; my mother, Seventh-day Adventist, and my father, Anglican. My father served as an Altar-boy and my grandmother taught music and was the organist in the Anglican Church for fifty years until her death. Each had their own dedication to their respective faiths. Still, my parents agreed upon the fact that once they had children 35

they would instill values that were critical in our lives; values that began with a passion for Jesus Christ. Wayne and I are in the middle, we have an older sister and a younger brother. Even though our father was raised in the Anglican tradition, the Seventh-day Adventist Church became the bedrock for many of the things that subsequently shaped our lives. We lived in an Orthodox Adventist home, meaning there were very specific standards and principles we had to follow. The Sabbath begins Friday evening at sundown and ends Saturday evening at sundown. We had to make sure everything was in order on Friday so that we were properly prepared to meet the Sabbath. We had to be showered, our clothes had to be ironed, food had to be prepared—everything had to be ready and in place before the Sabbath began. My mother made sure that nothing encroached or intruded upon the Sabbath. We would then meet for family worship; this was no ordinary family gathering, we all contributed to the discussion. We had a little book that we studied every day, which outlined our values and the foundation of our faith. All these things commenced on Sabbath Eve. We were present for every Sabbath school study. Everyone participated in teachings, singing and worshipping; adults, teens and juniors alike. Regardless, we were yet kids and all of us siblings believed these rituals to be akin to Chinese water torture because Sabbath service would go on for two to three, often agonizing, hours. At times we wished we were anyplace other than there. Everything we did was Church related. We were actively involved in every facet of the Church. Wayne and I were born on a Tuesday and we’ve joked that we were probably in Church that following Saturday. We didn’t fully appreciate the seed that was being planted at that time. We were being infused with a sense of who God was; His love, grace and mercy. We were learning how to answer the call of duty to serve God and the 36

community. Those were priceless treasures implanted in us that were a pivotal part of our development. Sabbath lunch was a time for fellowship. Mother always prepared a huge meal for lunch. Blessing and serving the needs of others is a big part of who she is. Jamaicans, by nature, are very passionate individuals with strong family values. Even though she lives in Bermuda and despite adopting Bermuda as her home, my mother proudly embraces her Jamaican heritage. Both my parents were active participants in social justice and community issues, seeking to bring about change wherever injustices existed. During the 1960s, Jamaicans and other West Indians were looked down on and were considered second-class citizens in Bermuda. My mother played a key role in the founding of the West Indian Association in Bermuda. This organization gave a voice to those who were being treated unfairly and sought to end the indignities and inequities that existed during that time. Likewise, my father came from a close-knit family. My grandparents came to Bermuda from the island of St. Christopher and Nevis, commonly called St. Kitts. My grandmother was a music teacher and my grandfather worked on the shipping docks as a carpenter. My father had a firm foundation and strong family values as well. But it wasn’t until he went away to college in New York that he truly became very passionate about his culture. This was during the civil rights movement when Martin Luther King, Jr. and Malcolm X were on the frontlines fighting for basic human rights and equality. My father developed a passion for the rights of others and wanted to bring about social change and make a difference in the lives of his people. We were raised to believe that the color of our skin did not define us, and that we were capable of achieving whatever we chose to pursue. We were taught never to allow anyone to dictate what we could or could not be based solely upon the color of our skin. We were raised to be proud of 37

our culture and who we are. My parents instilled in us that family was a critical component in our success in life. We developed a genuine love for Christ, for each other and for our culture. The importance of family ties and the bond that’s shared by each and every member cannot be overstated. We relied on each other. If someone wanted to harm one of us they had to deal with all of us. I remember coming home one day and telling my mother about a boy who wanted to fight me. She told me not to ever come home and tell her that someone beat me up, because there were four of us siblings and we were supposed to protect one another. My mother never encouraged us to start or pick fights with anyone, but she made it clear that we were responsible for defending each other. She explained that the four of us together were a force to be reckoned with. Our younger brother, Travis, was essentially our responsibility, and even though our sister, Shereen, is only three years older than Wayne and me, she had authority in the house in my parents’ absence. She could discipline us if need be, she could set rules and we had to follow them. She basically took our mother’s place when mother wasn’t there. We spent every other summer with my mother’s parents in Jamaica. We didn’t like it very much because it was uncomfortably hot, unlike Bermuda. At the time, I didn’t realize the full magnitude of why our mother would send us there. But today I understand it was a very calculated ploy designed to strengthen the family bond as well as build character. We got to see and experience the lives of those with very few resources. The people there didn’t have a lot materially; nevertheless they were rich in love and faith. I’d begrudgingly arise each morning at the very ungodly hour of five o’clock to be impugned by the odor and commotion of small armies of chickens and cows as I cater to their dietary and hygienic needs alongside my grandfather. We’d then carry water 38

back to the house, tend to the garden or churn butter. The way they lived was reminiscent of the old TV shows such as The Waltons and Beverly Hillbillies. The time spent there in Jamaica during those summers served as lessons we couldn’t learn in Bermuda, because in Bermuda we were spoiled by privilege, whereas in Jamaica we learned the value of sacrifice and hard work. We got to know the other side of our heritage; our past, our present and how it influenced the blueprint of our future. Wayne and I were blown away by the work ethic of our cousins Neville, Tony and Yvette. They were the children of my Aunt Joyce and Uncle Ronald. They worked on the farm and they did so without complaint. They were an amazing peer standard for Wayne, Shereen, Travis and myself to see. Our cousins were our age but worked hard, did not complain and they got their jobs done. We learned so much from them. After coming home from Jamaica one time in particular, I recall asking my parents for a particular toy only to be hit with the response that I’d have to get a job. We were taught the concept of hard work and providing for ourselves. We were taught never to expect a free ride. So I got a job bagging groceries. When you bagged groceries and wheeled the customer’s cart out to their car for them, you’d get a tip. That allowed me to have money in my pocket on a daily basis. We learned to work for what we wanted. My parents had an entrepreneurial spirit also. They opened a nursery in the late 1970s and a decade or so later opened a Caribbean store and restaurant. They were business-minded people who encouraged perpetual learning and education. In our home, we were required to watch the news, read books and expand our minds while learning the ways of the world. There were times that relatives would come over and we’d engage in some pretty vigorous debates over trending issues. Sometimes it was political topics, sometimes cultural and socio-economic matters. In any event, we had to know what was going on in the world and not bury our heads in the sand. All the debating and discussion fueled my desire to be a drum-major for 39

fairness and justice. My parents implanted in us a yearning to stand for something; to be a voice for those who could not speak for themselves. People often said my mother was the Harriet Tubman of Bermuda. Our house was a safe haven and place of refuge for many who came from the West Indies. The men relied heavily upon my father’s guidance and advice. My parents were community advocates. They never sat idly by and watched while others suffered in silence. They stood up and effected change for the good of those around them. We inherited our love for the art of storytelling from our mother who was a preeminent storyteller. When she told stories you hung on her every word. Our house was always filled with laughter and positivity. It wasn’t unusual to see cars lined up outside our house on any given day, because family and friends enjoyed the good food and conversation that was always present in our home. Our house always had a pulse, and to this day it remains a warm, loving incubator for those who enter it.

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CHAPTER THREE (Our Faith, the Early Years) Wayne M. Caines

Being Christian men is of paramount importance to Dwayne and me. In this chapter, I’d like to recap and expand on the early years when our faith commitment was in its infancy stage. Growing up in an extremely religious home was frustrating at times. Those who are familiar with Seventh day Adventists, will know that we place great emphasis on the imminent second coming (advent) of Jesus Christ. Adventists celebrate their Sabbath from sundown on Friday until sundown on Saturday. Seventh-day Adventists have specific diets and abstain from eating certain foods and also adhere to a modest style of dress and deportment. My mother’s rules that centered on our faith seemed extra harsh when we considered the lives of our friends, even some of our Seventh-day Adventist friends. This added discipline was largely attributed to my mother’s Jamaican upbringing. My mother established very specific rules and guidelines as to how we were to live and conduct ourselves. We didn’t watch TV or indulge in any other activity on Friday other than preparing for the Sabbath. Our grandparents lived with us for a while and Friday evening we all gathered for singing, Sabbath school lessons, prayer and family 43

worship. Our grandmother was a powerful prayer warrior. She prayed with passion and intensity. She would cry as she prayed for each and every grandchild and family member all over the world. Her prayers were very intense and would sometimes last over fifteen minutes. Many times during my grandmother’s prayers my knees would ache and I would yearn for her prayers to come to an end. As children, we didn’t realize the value of that prayer covering. We lacked the knowledge and wisdom to fully appreciate the magnitude and greatness of the seeds that were being planted in our lives. I can remember on the occasions when our friends spent the night at our house and my mother would come into our bedroom to wake us up for morning worship, Dwayne and I would be embarrassed and privately beg our mother to forgo having worship as we did not want our friends to be a part of what we considered a humiliating ordeal. Many of our friends could not understand why we could not do anything on Friday nights or Saturdays (our Sabbath). In truth, I did not understand either; I hated being a Seventh-day Adventist. We could not do anything fun, we could not breakdance, could not rap, could not go to “Sessions” (Reggae dances). Being a “Seven-day”, (what everyone in Bermuda calls Seventh-day Adventist) sucked! My mother was very stringent about the things we did. We were not allowed to do many of the things other boys our age did. We grew up during a time when all the young people were listening to rap and other secular music, and it was difficult for us because we weren’t allowed to listen to it in the house. Mother would say, “You’re not bringing that devil music into this house.” And she was unyielding. On one occasion when I was about 16-years old, I had a poster of Janet Jackson up on my wall, my mother tore the poster off the wall and suggested that I replace the picture of my beloved Janet Jackson with a Poster of Ellen G. 44

White, an early Seventh-day Adventist pioneer, I still cringe at the thought. We were not allowed to go to movie theatres, nor were we able to go to the video arcade, and our television programming was also censored. Firstly we could not watch TV on school nights nor could we watch television shows with violence and sexuality. We would hear our friends chat about “The Dukes of Hazzard”, “Three’s Company”, “The Love Boat”, “Fantasy Island”, and we would have no idea what they were talking about. I have since watched every episode of the afore-mentioned television shows since they have been in syndication. I could not reconcile how everyone else seemed to be having so much fun and we were caged in the prison on Seventh-day Adventism with our hands and feet shacked by the rigidity of our faith. What made the situation worse was the fact that many of the members of our church did not treat us nicely, I did not feel loved or a part of a family. It seemed as if everyone was just concerned about following the rules. It seemed as though there was very little emphasis placed on understanding our emotional needs. I was constantly worried about breaking a rule or messing up. I could not understand why we just could not go to church on Sunday like everyone else. When Dwayne, Travis, Shereen and I walked to church on Sabbath Mornings, our mother made us each carry our Bibles. I hated carrying that Bible. On Saturday afternoons when we were walking to AY (Adventist Youth service) and the neighborhood kids would ask where we were going, we would tell them that we were going to a wedding. Our faith was the epicenter of our lives. However, we were not a traditional Seventh-day Adventist family because our father had not been baptized into the faith. There were times we weren’t treated very well by fellow members of the church because of that. I was often envious of my friends who sat with their Dad 45

at church, I would look at the elders and Sabbath School leaders and I would yearn for my dad to come to church with us. It was our mother who took us to church; our father wouldn’t go but he never objected nor did he ever criticize our faith. He would give us a wink and tell us to say a prayer for him as we left to go to church. We wanted so badly to be like the other traditional families but our father was not committed to being a Seventh-day Adventist. That didn’t mean he wasn’t a good man, he just struggled with the reconciliation between his spiritual needs and his devotion to his culture. He had seen the prevalence of racism during the 1960s in the United States, and he worked in Civil Service (Government) in Bermuda. He wanted something that was real and he had difficulty embracing a religion that didn’t seem to identify with the struggles of a black man. Yet, our mother prayed continually for our father that he would become a Seventh-day Adventist Christian. She never ceased to pray for him; she was unwavering and never gave up hope. There was a pastor from the U.S. who came to Bermuda to conduct a crusade. His name was Pastor Saunders but they called him “Big Thunder.” We attended the crusade every night for a whole month. We weren’t accustomed to his American style of preaching and teaching but Pastor Saunders delivered powerful messages of redemption. He came to our house and had a conversation with our father a few days before the end of the crusade. During the last Sabbath service, Pastor Saunders gave an altar call and I saw my father walking down the aisle. None of us had any idea he was even there that day because he never accepted invitations to come to church. My father was always a rather reserved and private man, so it was surprising to see him going forward to the altar. I remember hearing my mother scream and seeing her run down the aisle to the altar where he was. Soon my siblings and I joined them and I realized we were finally a unified 46

Seventh-day Adventist family. Dwayne and I were twelve years old when our father was baptized into the faith. As children we didn’t understand how we fit into the paradigm, but our mother had laid the foundation for us. Even when it wasn’t sinking in, it was still being cultivated and nurtured. I learned that it’s possible to be estranged from a flock and still be a part of it. One of the most difficult aspects of growing up in a devout Seventh-day Adventist home was that we could not play organized sports. Dwayne and I were phenomenal athletes, but in Bermuda every sports activity we loved fell on the Sabbath. We loved football and karate. Dwayne was exceptional at track and field but the track meets were all on Saturday. If we asked to do anything on the Sabbath that wasn’t God-centered or church-related my mother would say “no”; she would say “our faith comes first”. Over time, the lack of freedom to do the things we desired to do caused us to begin to resent our faith. Whenever I would get mad at a decision my mother would make about the Sabbath or Church, I would say “as soon as I turn 18-years old, I will never step a foot into a Seventh-day Adventist church ever again”. And I meant it too! I also knew that my saying I would leave the church would hurt my mother very deeply. Dwayne and I would spend the majority of our time at the Hamilton Seventh-Day Adventist Church, we would be forced to attend the early service on Sabbath at 8:00 am, Sabbath School at 9:30 am, Divine Worship Service at 11:00 am, Choir at 3:00 pm, AY (Adventist youth service) at 4:00 pm and Church Social at 7:00 pm. Pathfinders was on Sunday at 11:00 am. Our mother felt the odds were far greater for us not to get in trouble if we were at church and doing something, anything. Poor her, little did she know, when she was in divine worship service, we would sneak out and play football in the youth center, basketball in the youth center, we would walk to Fort Hamilton (an old military garrison) 47

and have a grand old time playing war games just busting up the Sabbath (he laughs his evil genius laugh). On one occasion we were very hungry and we broke into the kitchen of our church Youth Center and we saw a bottle of grape juice and some crackers. We knew they were for communion, but we did not see the harm in having a quick ‘sip’ it started out like “Wayne, you go first”, “No, Dwayne you go first”, eventually, I had the first sip. We passed the bottle around and drank the grape juice until every last drop was gone. We then sat in a corner and ate every last cracker on the table. Like seasoned pros we thought we would get rid of all of the evidence like they did on TV. We wiped down the tables getting rid of all of the “evidence” we then threw the empty bottle in the trash and ran out of the Center. Unfortunately, unbeknownst to us, one of the Deacons of the church was watching the whole thing and promptly reported us to our mother. To say my mother was angry was an understatement she was “vexed” that is Very Angry. She was angered that we would now let our trouble spill over into stealing the Holy Sacrament of Christ. This to her was a sign that we were out of control. She in her Jamaican patois said, “Yuh Bwoys now tink is right fe teef from God, Uno muss mad. I gwen teach uno a lesson. Who don’t hear must feel.” Translation, “You boys are now at the point where you are now stealing from God, you must be crazy! I am going to teach you a lesson you will never forget. If you do not listen you will have to suffer the consequences.” I remember that was one of the worst “whoppings” we ever received. My mother was so hurt by the whole ordeal she actually wept. This was partly because it reinforced a belief that Wayne and I would be destined for trouble. Then our parents realized they had to find ways to make our lives more interactive. So, our mother started allowing our friends to come over on Sabbath afternoon for fun and fellowship. We also became involved with an organization known as Pathfinders, 48

which is similar to the Boy Scouts in the mainstream. On Sundays we would go on camping expeditions. We learned to tie knots like the Boy Scouts of America, and enjoyed many other outdoor activities. Most of all, we were able to connect and interact with other young people on a social level. We spent time with our peer group, singing, debating and learning leadership skills. A good portion of my best memories took place at Hamilton Church, I remember the first time I preached, it was Youth Sabbath, and I was twelve. I preached a six-minute sermon “the colourful Coat” the story of Joseph, I remember how my church family supported me and encouraged me afterwards. On Saturday, our church conducted socials. We would play volleyball, football, table tennis and board games in the church youth center. Volleyball was the most watched sport and everyone wanted to play. Dwayne and I, in the early years, were too young to play and we would never get a chance to be chosen for a team. I remember Delmont Tucker, the Social Leader at the time, demanding that Dwayne and I be put on teams and given the opportunity to play. I was so amazed that Delmont stood up for us. I have never forgotten that night! Delmont would never know how much that small event played such a significant part in my life and how much Dwayne and I needed someone to advocate and fight on our behalf. Delmont would never know how attending the church socials on Saturday nights kept us from a myriad of other negative activities. A pivotal force in my life was the Southampton Inspirational Choir. Owen Simons, my best friend, started a choir for teenagers when we were fourteen years of age. It was instrumental in propelling me to an indescribable level of faith. It was a profoundly affirmative outlet. We had choir practice on Friday night. In addition to the wonderful time of fellowship, there were also pretty girls there. So, we’d put on our best jeans and shirts and make sure 49

we were well-groomed for choir practice I loved leaving home on a Friday night, catching the bus to go to rehearsal. I also loved the Inspirational Choir because it was one of the only activities that I did without Dwayne. Before long, we started to gain popularity and our choir was invited to sing at other churches. It was truly a defining facet of my life. I loved being able to make and sing music with my friends, we shared so many memorable times together over the years. Now, as an adult, I have had several occasions to reflect on my faith and the Seventh-day Adventist Church, and it is clear that the Adventist church has a unique message and key doctrine that we believe will hasten the second advent of Christ and I believe that with my whole heart. Where we and many other Christian denominations fail is that we do not nurture and build relationships. We do struggle to develop young people who have meaningful and transparent relationships with God. We get so focused on the rules and the checklists that we do not teach our children how to develop meaningful and loving relationship with God. Oftentimes, I felt that if I did something wrong, the big bad God in the sky would strike me down dead. My relationship with God was based on rules and fear. I did not love Him as my savior, my best friend, my confidant, my rock (I feel like preaching, Turn to your neighbor and say, “ain’t God good?”). I look at many of the people that have held leadership positions in the church over the years, many of their children are totally estranged from the faith. Why? Because they had all the rules shoved down their throats and they did not see Christ’s character and His love exemplified and personified in their home or in their parent’s lives. As I got older I would hear people say things like, “if you go to the night club, you are on your own, because your guardian angel could never go in such a place,” when nothing could be further from the truth. I know this might not be appreciated but I must say 50

that my faith, the Seventh-day Adventist church must continue to develop a closer bond with the community. People must know more about us than our being the people who don’t eat meat, who go to church on Saturdays and that the women don’t wear jewelry. We must continue to develop pivotal, life changing ministries that change lives and develop communities. Outside of doctrine, we must reinforce our belief that our God is a God of love. . We must be taught to love and how to reflect Christ’s character in everything we do and in everything that we say. I am grateful to men like Ivan Mapp, Francis Morris, James Landy, Dennis Mapp, George Burch, Reggie Matthie. Rupert Holdipp, Ronald Lightbourne, George Holdipp; and women like Ernestine Degraff, Betty Ann Lowe, Sister Elvin, Dr Inez Dickson, Roslynn Francis, Phylis Jeffers, Corine McNorton and many others who spent time loving and nurturing Dwayne and me. The aforementioned people are part of the proverbial “village” who played an impactful role in our spiritual development.I am now able to understand my faith. I accept my role in making my church better and helping our leadership to continue to evolve to take God’s message to the four corners of the world. I also understand my mother, her desire to keep Dwayne and me on the straight and narrow, and to see us ready and prepared for the Kingdom of God. At the time I didn’t realize that our mother’s uncompromising steadfastness saved us from a lot of harm. Our journey to faith didn’t begin with a love or understanding of it. We had to evolve and mature to the point where we realized that the atmosphere of worship in our home and the environment we grew up in was the bulwark and baseline of who we are today. We were forced to study, we were forced to memorize and recite scripture, we were forced to participate in family worship, and as children this was difficult to accept at times. But I can say now without fear of contradiction that because of that unshakable foundation we were kept from 51

the streets, prison, drugs and other debauchery. In our later years when we had the opportunity to study and develop a meaningful and authentic relationship with God, we were able to build on the training and discipline of our mother. We now know, having had our own children that our mother was not perfect, and we would not employ all of her methods as we raise our own children, but we do know that our love of God and commitment to our faith was instilled in us by her. I remember all the old hymns we used to sing as a family, “Holy day Jehovah’s Rest,” “What a Fellowship What a Joy Divine” “There is a Fountain Filled with Blood”. I was oftentimes amazed that many of the hymns I was forced to learn as a child brought me great comfort and peace when faced with difficult and seemingly insurmountable circumstances. Our mother would make us learn Bible texts and we had to recite the Bible texts at family worship. I remember walking around the room reciting… Psalm 121:

I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help. My help cometh from the Lord, which made heaven and earth. He will not suffer thy foot to be moved: he that keepeth thee will not slumber. Behold, he that keepeth Israel shall neither slumber nor sleep. The Lord is thy keeper: the Lord is thy shade upon thy right hand. The sun shall not smite thee by day, nor the moon by night. The Lord shall preserve thee from all evil: he shall preserve thy soul. The Lord shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in from this time forth, and even for evermore.

Psalms 121 is still my favourite scripture. The text reminds me that God is always with me and will always be there to protect me. God has blessed us with the gift of memory. Therefore, whenever a difficult situation arises, I remember my mother’s teaching; I remember the covering of my grandmother’s prayers; I remember 52

the family worship and the moral compass implanted in us that leads and guides us to live for something other than ourselves. We were taught that a life lived for self is no life at all. We were taught to depend on God through every difficulty no matter what. We were taught to have faith in the belief that there was something greater in us than was in the world. Our faith is not only about living eternally with God; it’s also about giving to others and having a sense of community and selflessness. I’m not saying our home or family was perfect because no family is perfect, and yes, at times there was arguing and fussing. But our home was filled with love and a faith that could be relied upon. Even (as children) when we didn’t understand it or want it, our faith was the very thing that sustained us, guided us and protected us.

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CHAPTER FOUR Who Can’t Hear Must Feel (Wayne M. Caines)

Every action brings forth consequence and our mother made it clear early in the game that actions of disobedience would bring forth those for which we would have extreme distaste. When she told us to do or not do something, she reinforced the fact that there would be a painful and lasting price to be paid for insubordination in any form and our stubbornness and hardheadedness came at a price. As my mother put it, “Who Can’t Hear Must Feel.” For the first seven years of my life, our family lived in a two-story house that was built by my paternal grandfather in the 1930s. We loved living in that house. It had a big front and back yards giving us plenty of space to play football, cricket and all the other childhood games we enjoyed outdoors. Our yard was always full of friends and neighborhood kids; they loved our house too. We had freedom to play any of the outdoor games we enjoyed, but there was one stipulation our mother placed on our outdoor activities. She told us to stay away from the next door neighbor’s property because of an uncovered water pump that was a safety hazard, and potentially very dangerous. Mother said we could play anywhere else on the planet but stay away from the 55

neighbor’s house. Human nature being what it is, Dwayne and I always found the forbidden zone of our neighbor’s house alluring; we were drawn to it like Eve in the Garden of Eden. Somehow our toys always ended up close to the neighbor’s water pump, but we’d always remember our mother’s admonition to say away from it. Bermuda houses are unique in that the roofs are painted white with white limestone. The pitch of the roof is such that rainwater runs down through specially constructed drains on the side of the house and into a tank at the bottom of the house. The water collected in the tank is used for flushing the toilet, showering, bathing and washing. When the house needs water, the pump mechanically draws the water into the house from the tank. In the 1970s the water pumps operated using a pulley and oscillating fan system. Most of the time, the pumps were enclosed in a cement or wooden box. Exposed water pumps were extremely dangerous because you could easily lose a hand, foot or sustain serious injuries as a result of coming in contact with the system. The encasement on the neighbor’s water pump was broken off, therefore it was exposed and very dangerous. Our mother worked very hard; she worked both day and night shifts. One thing she wanted to treat herself to was tennis lessons. She saved for months to buy her tennis outfit and gear. She bought her white skirt, shoes, rackets and everything she needed for her lessons. She scheduled her tennis lessons in the summer when we were out of school. In those days, we didn’t have computers, Xboxes or other video games, we played outside in the fresh air. The day of our mother’s first tennis lesson was a beautiful summer afternoon. We were allowed to play our usual games outside with explicit instructions that we were to behave ourselves— no fighting and no going near the neighbor’s water pump. We were having a great time playing our favorite games. 56

We played red light/green light, hide and seek, football, cricket, two on two soccer with our friends, and a host of other games. For the most part, the afternoon went on without a hitch. As we were playing cricket, the ball went into the neighbor’s yard near the pump. When we went to retrieve the ball, Dwayne and I were fascinated by the mechanisms of the pump and lingered around it for a while. It was spellbinding and enticing. At one point, I leaned in to get a closer look at it and then disaster struck. The fan caught my shirt and instantly pulled me in, and the tip of my right index finger was severed. It all happened in a nanosecond. Blood was spewing out like a faucet. I was screaming, Dwayne was panicking and screaming, “Mom, Mom!” The neighborhood kids were all screaming. It was complete pandemonium. I could see my severed fingertip on the ground and I was in a state of sheer terror. All of a sudden, my mother leaped from the upstairs window in a single bound like Superman. She fell on the ground and, like Wonder Woman, she jumped up and rushed over to me. She picked up the tip of my finger, we went inside and she put it in ice. She was on the phone with my father asking him if she should call the ambulance but they decided it would take too long. So, she put me in the car and rushed me to the hospital. On the way to the hospital she was comforting me; telling me I’d be okay and that she loved me. After we arrived at the hospital we went to emergency and my mother said to them, “This is my son and he needs help right now!” Once the doctor was with us, he commended my mother for putting the fingertip in ice because that kept the nail from dying and increased the possibility of reattachment, although the doctor was concerned that he might not be able to save it. Thankfully, the surgeon was able to reattach my fingertip. My summertime fun came to an abrupt end in one afternoon as my hand was bandaged the rest of the summer. About a month 57

later, someone asked what happened to my hand and my mother looked at me and said: “Who Can’t Hear Must Feel.” There’s a valuable lesson here. Sometimes our parents, bosses, or others who are in authority will tell us we shouldn’t do certain things for our own benefit, but we think their only objective is to keep us from doing what we want to do. Oftentimes, we think we know more than they do. We don’t want to heed their advice or take their counsel because we’re hardheaded and think we know what we’re doing. We don’t realize that those who are put in authority over us are there to guide our lives and keep us from making mistakes that will leave lasting scars in our lives. This should be a lesson to all of us to listen and accept the guidance and direction of someone who knows more than you.

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CHAPTER FIVE Mommy, the love of a mother (Wayne M. Caines)

As vocal and extroverted as my mother was, my father was much more reserved, though no less active and influential in our lives. After living in New York for a time, he returned to Bermuda and began working in Civil Service. He always sought to improve himself through perpetual studies in an effort to make our lives better. My father wasn’t an overly affectionate man when we were growing up. Like many men of his generation, he wasn’t raised in an environment with hugging or overt public displays of affection. He didn’t have time for skylarking or fooling around. He was a very serious man whose focus was raising and providing for his family. He did very little for himself; everything was for us and our advancement. My father had very little patience for Dwayne’s and my shenanigans. My father has a La-Z-Boy recliner that he’s had since we were children; it’s been reupholstered many times. It was a house rule that no one was allowed to sit in his chair except him. Everyone who came to our house knew not to sit in my father’s chair. As a child, it’s very easy to misinterpret that as being extreme or even harsh. But now I realize his chair was symbolic of more than just a place to sit. He was the man of the house, and it 61

validated his accomplishments, status and position of authority. It was the one item that belonged to him and he did not want us to mess with it (note to self; purchase La-Z-Boy recliner). In our formative years, Dwayne and I didn’t do very well in school and my father was angered by our lack of academic commitment. He would become very frustrated and intolerant with us. I didn’t understand his irritation then but now I understand that his impatience with us was because he wanted to see us succeed and excel in life. He knew that the world would be cruel and intolerant to two undisciplined uneducated black men. I remember after parent/teacher conference my father said to Dwayne and me: “I hear the teachers telling Owen’s parents, ‘Owen is an awesome Music student’. I also heard them telling Shawn’s parents, ‘Shawn is a great history student’. What do I hear them tell me about you two? ‘My two sons are “funny”! Two comedians! Will “funny” pay your bleddy rent? (We were funny – that is an undisputable fact). My dad was hard on us, with good reason, I now understand that Dwayne and I were squandering our lives away. My dad was scared for our future. He wanted us to switch on and to take life more seriously. He was frustrated with us, with our underperformance and our tomfoolery. After my siblings and I were older, we developed a very close, loving relationship with our father. Seeing how affectionate he is with my children and Dwayne’s children, it’s hard to believe he’s the same man who was so stern with us growing up. My dad is now my trusted advisor and close friend. I am grateful for our renewed bond. Our mother was always a hard worker; it’s part of who she is and how she was raised. She was raised to never expect something for nothing, and she passed those values on to us. As far back as I can remember she always worked two jobs. During the day she worked from 8:00 in the morning to 4:00 in the afternoon, and 62

then she’d work from 10:00 that night to 8:00 the next morning. Her work schedule was very demanding, but somehow she always managed to have meals cooked for us in the afternoon when we got home from school. She made sure we had everything we needed before she went to her night job. To this day, she continues to maintain that same work schedule. Truth be told, Dwayne and I were difficult children. We were easily angered and prone to fighting. Our teachers would frequently tell our mother that we were destined to end up in prison because of our propensity to do wrong. The teachers said we were not college material nor would we even make it to college. Our mother realized that in addition to our desperate need for God in our lives, we also needed to become involved in community activities that would provide an outlet for something other than mischief. My mother’s biggest fear was that our hot tempers would one day land us in jail. She tried her best to help us get our tempers under control. Being Jamaican, she could be hot-blooded also, and she wasn’t hesitant about disciplining us when we got out of line. Her disciplinary methods could be severe at times and caused us to become resentful. But she was trying to bring balance into our lives. Mother got us involved in so many different activities. She signed us up for government sponsored swimming lessons. These lessons were on a first come first serve basis and the lines were very long. Our mother was so determined to get us involved in healthy community activities that she’d wait in line sometimes for hours so we could have our swimming lessons. If they were going to start taking numbers at 3:00 in the afternoon, she’d be in line at Noon. No matter how long it took, she would stand there. Dwayne and I loved taking lessons. We both learned to swim so well that we won swimming awards. But the experience was about more than just swimming lessons; we also developed relationships with 63

other children, made new friends and began looking at the world from a different perspective. It gave us a sense of purpose and began a new metamorphosis in our lives. We also enrolled in a sailing program and became avid sailors. I remember being on the water and marveling at the beauty of God’s creation. In an effort to bring more discipline into our lives, she sent us to take Karate lessons. Dwayne and I struggled with low self-esteem and learning the martial arts helped us slowly develop a sense of achievement and self-confidence. Our struggle with low self-esteem was fueled by our perception that we weren’t as good as the children who wore all the new trendy clothes and were always fashionable. We were always clean but we never had the latest or greatest clothing. My mother used her meager paycheck to pay for things that would benefit us from within; such as math tutors to help us excel academically, piano lessons to foster an appreciation and love for the art of music. She bought Dwayne a trombone and me a saxophone. It’s still amazing to me that she was somehow able to do all these things for us with such a small amount of money. She always found a way because she believed in us and our dreams. She focused on helping us overcome the poor self-image we had. I remember being outside one day and asking a young lady in the neighborhood if she wanted to hang out with us. It was crushing to hear that she wouldn’t hang out with us because Dwayne and I were so “black”. We already had low opinions of ourselves and then to hear someone say that no one would want to go out with us because we were too dark was a devastating blow to our worth as human beings. I remember telling my mother about it and she was supportive as always. She said we should focus on our school work and on becoming good men, and one day those girls will come back begging to be our girlfriends— realizing what a mistake they made. She would then say, “If I ever 64

see you crying over being black, I am going to beat the black right off of you.” It still hurt, but my mother’s words lifted our spirits and encouraged us. We had a tendency to look down when we talked to people and our mother would always tell us to lift our chins up and look people in the eye. She told us to shake hands firmly and not to take any crap from anyone. She instilled in us the value of standing up for what’s right and not sitting idly by while someone is being unjustly harmed. She told us to be strong and assertive, and she’d always be behind us when we were right but she wouldn’t uphold us in doing wrong. Dwayne and I had low self-esteem; we would not look people in the eye. We were heavily critical of each other; we regularly called each other names such as “blackie” and “ugly” (a ridiculous notion for a set of identical twins). My mother insisted that Dwayne and I attend the Barbizon school of modeling (to my father’s horror!). Attending a modeling school was a huge joke to us at first because we saw ourselves as two little unattractive boys amidst a sea of beautiful people. We would play around and “take the mickey” of the modeling coaches and the entire process, because we felt we did not fit in the world of models. We questioned my mother’s judgment; we were angered by her decision to put us in such an insane activity. But after walking down the runway a few times we began to gain self-confidence. We slowly started developing a sense of pride; the changes were noticeable in our deportment and communication with each other. Our lives were full of activities; however our father felt that some of them, such as the modeling, would turn us into pansies. He wanted us to play football [soccer] but our mother wasn’t too keen on the idea because she believed it was the catalyst to wrongdoing. My dad would stress that Club football was his saving grace and opened up several opportunities for him both 65

in Bermuda and in the United States of America. In my dad’s early years, he played a lot of football locally in Bermuda. He then went on to play in the semi-professional German-American Soccer League in New York City. We enjoyed the game of football but didn’t like going to practice because we were being bullied. We Joined the North Village Community Club Football team. North Village was (and still is) one of Bermuda’s Premier Football teams. Several of Bermuda’s greatest football players rose through the ranks of this great club. The team practiced on Monday and Wednesday nights with matches on Saturday morning. We were allowed to go to training but we could not play on Saturdays. On one occasion we hid in the garage when it was time to go to practice. My father found us hiding in the garage, he was outraged. He could not understand how two boys could be hiding in a garage in an attempt to get out of going to football training. My father would lament that my mother was making us “soft”. Dwayne and I explained to him that we loved playing football but two boys, Mark and Lou Matthews (incidentally today Mark is a good friend and Dr. Lou Mathews, is one of our best and closest friends) picked on us and were bullying us really badly. My father told us it was a part of life and if we did not defend ourselves we would be running and hiding the rest of our lives. He said there would always be someone who didn’t like us or who would try and bully us but we had to stand up and defend ourselves; we needed to use what we learned in our Karate lessons, and band together to protect each other. My dad told us to double team anyone who messed with us. He told us never to tell him that someone beat us up! He stressed that we must do what we had to do to protect each other. My father told us that he would love to have been a twin growing up, he insisted that if he were a twin no one would ever mess with him and his twin brother. So we reluctantly went to practice. Our mother spoke privately with the football coach 66

(Doc) who agreed to keep an eye on us. I remember this time in my life and the truth is, I did not like football, and I still don’t. I played football because everyone else around me wanted me to and expected me to. I did not fit in and my nonchalance and disinterest most likely annoyed the boys my age. We had adversity on every side. Everything seemed to be against us; we were growing up in an affluent society, but we were from the wrong side of the tracks. We lived in a part of Bermuda called the “Back of Town”- densely populated with working class Bermudians. The biggest land mark in our neighborhood was the Pembroke Dump aka “The Dump”, our national outdoor waste facility. Before, during and after school a pungent odor from The Dump would fill our lungs. Our football practice field was “The Desert”, an uneven tract of land adjacent to a trash dump in the poorer region of Hamilton, Bermuda’s capital city. Bermuda is a lovely island with pink sands and lovely beaches, people came from all over the world to experience the relaxed beauty of our island home. Unfortunately, we did not have the same experience growing up in our island home. Dwayne and I were not academically strong and I had a learning disability, but back in those days there was no available mechanism to test or diagnose learning disabilities. Our teachers would simply state that we had ‘no behavior’ (which meant we were disgustingly rude). At age eleven, our behavior deteriorated to the point that our Yearsix teachers mandated we receive counseling. I loved the idea of going to the Counselor because I was able to leave school for a few hours and I received chocolate chip cookies. As a result of going to the counselor it was suggested that Dwayne and I should be prescribed the then experimental drug Ritalin as a means of managing our behavior. My mother would not hear of it, and refused to even consider putting us on the medication. My mother stood up in the meeting and she told the counselor that she knew 67

that we were rude and undisciplined but she would never agree to us going on medication. She informed the counselor that all we needed was love, structure, activities and our ‘tails’ cut and we would be okay! She said that any medication given us would be “over my dead body”. ( I write this with tears streaming down my face). What I remember is how my mother on this occasion and many subsequent occasions was willing to fight for us, advocate for us stand up for us…she never condoned our actions nor did she abdicate her or my dad’s responsibility. My mother had an unshakeable belief in us. She refused to let us be another statistic. My mother would tell us that God ordained us to lead and to make a difference in the world. Can you imagine hearing such things when you are seven and eight years old? When I was in my early teens my mom would tell me I would be one of Bermuda’s best lawyers, I would pass her comments off as foolishness. How could I believe her? I was failing in school, my grades were bad, a few of my teachers suggested that I would not even make it through high school. My mother would always ensure that we had a belief in ourselves even when surrounded by insurmountable odds. She forced us to see our potential. She made it mandatory for us to believe in ourselves. If Dwayne and I were not strong in an area, my mother would employ the services of a tutor. We struggled in Mathematics, my mother saved every penny for us to have a math tutor three days per week after school. We had to take typing lessons, whilst everyone was playing outdoors, Dwayne and I would be inside with a teacher plunking away at a typewriter. My mother paid for piano lessons, trombone lessons, saxophone lessons, French horn lessons, drum lessons, whatever flight of fancy Dwayne and I went on, she would facilitate it. Her only rule was, all of us must play an instrument. Regrettably, I still 68

can’t play any of those aforementioned instruments. Growing up, Dwayne and I faced a myriad of obstacles, I look at many of my childhood friends and I often say “there go I if it was not for my mom and the Grace of God”. I am indebted to a woman who never gave up on us. A woman who along with her husband raised four kids and three of them boys. My mother never allowed us to be content with second best. She never accepted excuses nor did she allow us to feel sorry for ourselves. My mother was hugely focused on us preparing for our future, she sacrificed everything to make sure we had that which we needed. When everyone doubted us and counted us out, my mother was always there, rooting for us, prodding us along, and cajoling us to meet our potential. If you are a mother and your son or daughter is not on the right track, if you are struggling to find an environment that best suits your child’s needs, never give up. Continue to advocate on your child’s behalf. Don’t allow anyone to count your child out! Even if your child has “no behavior”, find programs and people that can help you to motivate and develop your child. Our mother never made excuses for us, she never covered up any of our wrongdoings. She was always a force to guide us. I would not be an iota of who I am today if it was not for my mother, my champion, my hero…

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CHAPTER SIX Vision Vigor Victory (VVV) (Wayne M. Caines)

In Bermuda there used to be just two levels of pre-college school; primary school - known in some countries as Elementary school - and secondary school, also known as high school. During the 1970s in Bermuda they had a test known as the Eleven-plus exam. When you reached year seven (comparable to 6th grade in North America), you were required to take the exam to test your proficiency in English and Mathematics. You were given a score and this determined whether you would attend a more academically inclined institution or an ordinary – vocational type - secondary school. The maximum score you could achieve was seven. There were two public academic schools, Warwick Academy and The Berkeley Institute. Those were the leading public high schools in Bermuda until approximately the mid1980s, at which time the Eleven-plus entry exam ceased to exist, and Bermuda moved to the Middle School/High School system. Parents strongly encouraged their children to be scholastically focused because even at age eleven or twelve, that exam was the key to your academic future. You would list the schools you desired to attend in the order of your preference. However, you 71

could only attend Warwick Academy or Berkeley Institute if your Eleven-plus exam score was high enough. Our mother tried to prepare us for the exam but Dwayne and I were not very academically strong or academically focused. We listed The Berkeley Institute as our first choice because our father attended Berkeley and he wanted us to follow in his footsteps. Being Seventh-day Adventists, we really wanted to go to the Bermuda Institute (B.I.), which was a Seventh-day Adventist private school. But private schools were not part of the selection system. A lot of our friends from church attended B.I.; our sister had gone there in high school and our younger brother had attended kindergarten there. However, at that time, our parents could not afford to send us there. We had to do our best on the Eleven-plus exam so that we could get into one of the other top two schools. Unfortunately, we did not score well on the exam therefore we could not get into Berkeley Institute, so we went to Warwick Secondary School. Warwick Secondary was a great school with formidable teachers, I do not want to suggest that Warwick Secondary was a second tier school, it was not. From the moment we set foot on the grounds of Warwick Secondary – or Sec as it was more affectionately termed, it seemed like all the odds were against Dwayne and me. In those days, there were no middle schools, so at twelve-years old, we were attending school with sixteen and seventeen-year olds. I remember our first day of school, Dwayne and I were petrified walking down hallways seeing older kids who looked like grown men and women. We felt as though we had been thrown into a dungeon from which we could not escape. It was terrifying and it did not take long for us to once again become objects of unrelenting teasing and bullying, as had been our life story. The setting was the 1980s and the style in those days was a fade haircut, bad-boy shoes (Clarke brand), fancy argyle socks 72

and straight-legged pants. Everyone dressed like the Reggae artists. Dwayne and I wanted to dress like everyone else and fit in but we weren’t allowed to. We wore bell bottoms while the other kids wore straight-legs; we didn’t have the cool shoes so we wore pointy-toe bug-squashers; we didn’t have the stylish fade-haircut thus we had big afros; we didn’t have the El DeBarge light skin rather we were akin to Kunta Kinte in the movie ‘Roots’ …and during that time light-skinned brothers ruled. We were tormented because of how we looked. There came a time when the school was showing the film Gandhi, but our mother wouldn’t sign the permission slip for us to see it because we were not permitted to go to movies. While the other kids were watching the film, Dwayne and I had to sit in the library and write lines [sometimes called standards in the U.S.], the same line over and over. Apparently, the school viewed our exclusion from the film as a sign of disrespect, which subjected us to more teasing and mistreatment. Dwayne and I become increasingly angry and undisciplined. We were both disruptive in class, and when we were disruptive we had to stand outside the classroom. I can recall standing outside one classroom and seeing Dwayne down the hall standing outside of another. We were tired of all the bullying and we retaliated by becoming pugilists and hardcore fighters. We would use our karate skills excessively. Before long we had reputations as being crazy young men who would fight anyone if they looked at us wrong. We relished in the notoriety. We were “first years” and everyone in the school knew us and knew our reputation. We had a group of nerds, Kwame Webson, Leonard Stevens, Dwayne and me. Whenever someone would talk out the side of their neck, Dwayne or I would challenge them to a fight. When it was time to “get it on” we would double-team them. That strategy never failed!! You were guaranteed a bust tail if you messed with the 73

7-day Nerd twins. We were angry young men. One day, one of the pretty light-skin boys [Johnny Astwood] challenged me to a fight and I accepted the challenge. I never backed down from a fight. We went at each other, fighting tooth and nail and I realized I was the main attraction. It seemed as if the whole school was watching the fight and I was the star in the spotlight. Whenever it looked like Johnny might be getting the upper-hand, Dwayne stepped in and equalized things. We always had each other’s back. In the throes of the fight, I suddenly felt a hand on my neck. It was Mr. Robert Horton, the principal (now speaker of the House of Assembly the lower half of Parliament). Mr. Horton was an imposing figure of a man; tall, athletic and no-nonsense. He separated us by putting his fingers in my nostrils and yanking me back like a rabid dog. He then rustled Johnny and me to his office where we each got twelve swats. But the paddle didn’t deter me, I continued to fight. Our parents were exasperated with all the calls from school about our behavior. They were weary and tired of hearing the threat of us being kicked out of school. They did their best to turn us around. As an alternate outlet for venting frustration, Dwayne became a phenomenal runner. He ran like greased lightning. He was the first through the finish line on the hundred-yard dash, and went on to break the school record for the under-13 year boys in the long jump. Over time, in addition to being labeled great fighters we also developed a reputation for being great sportsmen. But despite our physical abilities we were still suffering academically. We were both weak in the same subjects of Math and English and were educationally lost. I remember my English teacher, Mrs Donna Harvey Maybury, saying to me: “Wayne, you’re very polite but the last thing we need is another illiterate well mannered gentleman in Bermuda.” Her statement has stuck with me to this day. 74

At the end of the our first year at Warwick Secondary our parents took stock of where Dwayne and I were academically and socially. We were not doing well academically, we were constantly in trouble with the teaching staff and we were having difficulty fitting in with our peers. Their decision was to remove us from the public school system and institute us at B.I. For the record I state that Warwick Secondary School was an exceptional educational facility, having produced exemplary students, many of which have gone on to become extraordinarily successful in chosen careers and vastly influenced Bermuda’s path. However, at that point in our lives it was simply not the right fit for Dwayne and me in terms of bringing out our best attributes. It is important that every parent find the right learning environment that best suits the needs of their child or children. Oftentimes, there is nothing wrong with the school, it is just that the school simply is not a good fit for the child. It is easy to sit back and go with the flow and hope that your child’s circumstances get better. My parents could see that if they did not intervene and move Dwayne and me into a different learning environment we would be lost.

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CHAPTER SEVEN School Haze and School Days (Dwayne A. Caines)

It is said that bad habits die hard; thus at both schools we attended, Wayne and I developed reputations as very mischievous young men. At the same time we were also recognized as exceptional athletes and this stirred within us great pride and satisfaction. Not only were we talented sportsmen … we were ‘gladiators’ and a formidable fighting team … ‘The Twin Beasts’ or ‘Beastly Twins’ might have been the moniker given us by Don King, the famous boxing promoter. As a result of being teased and picked on throughout our pre and early teen years, we became quite distrusting of many individuals in our peer group. This resulted in us getting into many fights. Willful engagement in fisticuffs became our way of standing up for ourselves and letting those around us know that we would not be taken advantage of, that we would defend ourselves at all costs. We were clear in the notion that one on one we might get beat, but in tandem the odds dramatically shifted in our favour, whereby few could handle us. Developed among us was a self-styled fighting technique hitherto known as the “High and Low.” Our strategy was simple, 77

Wayne grabbed the neck and I seized the ankles or feet of our opponent. Once perfected, it worked with unerring efficiency. The unsuspecting opponent being felled as Birchwood behind the blade of a lumberjack, shamefully compromised, dazed and confused our now prey became mere fodder and we would exact our “crazy justice” upon them. The main reason we found fighting to be such a necessary part of our lives was that people seemed to always take advantage of us in one way or another. Everywhere we turned we were victimized and bullied, so we consciously devised a scheme to turn the tables, and so implemented we were able to go from being the ‘bullied’ to being the ‘bullies’. At Warwick Secondary (now revamped and renamed T.N. Tatem Middle School), we were little fish in a big pond. Having just graduated from Prospect Primary, a neighborhood school with loving, attentive teachers and a student body where everyone knew each other, we were catapulted into the large abyss which was Warwick Secondary. Let me say that Warwick Secondary was an excellent school with phenomenal teachers and keen students but for two boys from “back a town” (colloquial term used for the hood in Bermuda) this was a whole new world with triple the amount of students that we were accustomed to. Students were from all over the island as opposed to being a neighborhood school. These students were particularly from the Western end of the island. These changes created a level of vulnerability within Wayne and me because we now had to find a critical way to make our mark, to fit in, to be accepted – the age old challenge of “fitting in” to a new environment. We felt different from everyone else and we recognized that in order to function in that environment we felt we had to go into survivalist mode and become fearsome fighters to get respect. As twins, we would literally fight with our backs to each other, facing whoever was coming at us. Even after having the principal’s cane introduced 78

to our backside, we still didn’t stop going toe to toe with anyone who crossed our paths. We needed to send a clear message that we would not be pushed around by anyone. At that time and in that setting we believed being respected as a person who took no nonsense was more important than being respected for academic ability. We were both pretty good in English and History but substandard in Math or anything Science-related. Our parents realized the social dynamic at the school was sucking us into the young black male stereotypical vortex that far too many young men succumb to. They realized we needed a different environment where peer-pressure was not as strong. Warwick Secondary was a phenomenal school but my parents believed that it was too big of an institution for Wayne and me. Also, my mother believed as a Seventh-day Adventist, Christian Education was critical to the development of our character. Our younger brother, Travis was attending Bermuda Institute and our sister, Shereen attended Bermuda Institute, so it only made sense for Wayne and me to join them. This was a significant financial sacrifice for my parents as this was a private institution. Bermuda Institute (or affectionately called by supporters, former and present students, B.I.) was the foremost traditional Seventh-day Adventist school. They taught an American-style curriculum and fostered a social environment that was much more conducive to the values we were taught at home. It was awkward telling our non-Adventist friends we went to B.I. because a small but persistent group of our peers saw B.I. as a school for “softies and pansies.” The uninformed referred to the school as simply Seven-Day. Whether intentional or unintentional, the term Seven-Day carries a mild derogatory undertone that shows disinterest in correctly identifying the school. At B.I., I discovered a quietness and serenity I came to 79

appreciate. Wayne and I had come from an environment where we believed that fighting was the order of the day. We had a survival of the fittest mentality that was out of place and not tolerated at B.I. There were approximately thirty students in our class from all walks of life, and many of them had been there for a long time. Wayne and I came in hoping to blend and fit in with everyone. But with our rough, unpolished character and demeanor, we stood out like “sore thumbs.” There were two particular male students who took the time to really get to know us, and introduced us to the way things were done and not done. They also introduced us to their families and their social circle. They went out of their way to make us feel valued and a part of the team. Those students were Shawn Crockwell and Owen Simons. They took us under their wings and we developed a strong bond with them and their families that still exists today. There were also female students in our class who protected us, had our backs, and did not let anyone pick on us or tease us. They became our defenders. They were Kim Steede, Moria Emory, Pamela Hill, Selina Burgess, Rosemarie Darrell, and Trina Richardson. There was a peacefulness and calmness that existed at B.I.; Wayne and I no longer needed to prove how tough we were or how good we could fight, because we were among students and faculty whose focus was academic enrichment. However, mischievousness still seemed to find us. Our class also was full of very opinionated, strong-willed and mischievous individuals as well. We were known for giving teachers the silent treatment for days. We were also known to wreak havoc on new and substitute teachers, even reducing some to tears. Wayne and I were notorious for being lunch raiders. We were perplexed at how the spoiled and overindulged kids would come to school with a lunch fit for “kings and queens.” Students like Owen Simons would come to school with 80

three kinds of fruit, a sandwich, a dessert (Gingerbread baked by his mom), popcorn and two different juices. Wayne and I came to school with a sandwich, four High Ho Sunshine crackers and a small box of raisins. We had to drink water out of the school water fountain as our beverage. We felt it was our fundamental duty to even the scales naturally. We would raid unsuspecting students’ lunch bags and help ourselves to the lunches we thought needed to be shared. Who could forget pulling the fire alarm in school, putting tacks in seats of unsuspecting students (usually girls), and something that is now an actual criminal offense, putting mirrors on our shoes. I’m truly embarrassed to say what we used to do with the mirrors! At Prospect Primary and Warwick Secondary, we were exposed to awesome female educators, such as Ms. Sutton, Ms. Bascome, Ms. Furbert, and Ms. Swan. At Bermuda Institute, the emergence of strong male leaders became a positive driving force in our lives. In the eighth grade a teacher by the name of Mr. Gladwyn Trott embodied the essence of effective teaching. He was one of the “greats.” He was a seasoned teacher in every sense of the word. His classroom was a think-tank, a bible study, a history and science lab all rolled into one. He taught, he preached, he molded and cultivated his students. Not only did he get to know us on a personal individual level, he also got to know our parents. He was a nurturer but he was also a disciplinarian who set standards that had to be adhered to or there would be consequences. One such example I recall was a spelling test he gave. There were twenty-five words and you were not allowed to misspell more than three. If you missed more than three, the penalty was three lashes in your hand with a thin brown leather strap. I missed more than three on the test and he called me to the front of the class to give me my lashes. My biggest concern was I didn’t want the girls in class to see me cry. I was more concerned about my pride than I was 81

getting the lashes. As a result of not wanting to revisit the anxiety associated with getting lashes in front of the class, the following week I passed the test without missing any words. His tried and true method of combining teaching with discipline may be viewed as primitive and crude, but it worked. The impact of a dedicated teacher cannot be overstated. There was also a principal by the name of Mr. Ian Kelley who was a Jamaican national and he was an educator “par excellence”. He was a no-nonsense man who made no excuses for setting the bar high. He expected the world from his students and he saw to it that it was given. Uniforms had to be in immaculate condition and anyone who stepped out of line was brought swiftly back in with a very aggressive brand of discipline. Oddly enough, Wayne and I responded very well to his leadership style and he took a fondness to us but this simply meant if we did not meet his standard, he would come down on us like a ton of bricks. His, then, wife was the French teacher and a few of the boys were being disrespectful to her. She became frustrated and called her husband to the classroom. He called the offending parties to the front of the class (of course Wayne and I were a part of the group), lined them up and summarily marched us to the field where he had us run around the field in our school uniform. At first, this seemed like a fun exercise and a unique means to get out of class but this went on for over an hour and a half. We were not allowed to stop at all. One of the students, Owen Simons, could not take the rigors of the punishment and actually fainted! We learned a valuable lesson that day about respect. Mr. Kelley also allowed students who could not afford tuition an opportunity to work around the school to help defray their tuition costs. If you were punished, you also had to do things around the school like, cut the lawn, paint the school, and take out trash as a practical form of discipline. Anything he required of 82

students, he was not afraid to do himself. It was not uncommon to see him with his sleeves rolled up side by side with a student doing chores with them. Another teacher who left a profound imprint on my life was Mr. Hill. He was a native Bermudian and returned from Oakwood College to teach at the Bermuda Institute. The fact that he was a native was remarkable because many of the teachers in Bermuda during that time were from the Caribbean—mostly Jamaica, and for a Bermuda native to come back home to teach gave us an iconic reference as to what we, too, could achieve. He was the ultimate role model. He was athletic, articulate, well dressed and committed to excellence in his craft. He brought out the best in his students because he was one of us. He motivated us and made learning fun while also holding us to high standards. He inspired Wayne and many other young men to become lawyers because he brought history to life, and ignited an interest in government and the law. He was just a few years older than me, and was the first person in such a young age group that I viewed as a role model. Among my other fond memories of B.I. are the student banquets that were usually held at a nice hotel. It was a wonderful time of social interaction with our peers. Most of our schoolmates also went to our church, so there were solid relationships that existed on many different fronts. Many of our peers were like family; we were supportive and protective of each other. Sports were important to Wayne and me, but at that time the school’s position was they didn’t participate in organized sports. That meant no competitions with students from others schools in Track, Football or Cricket. Both Wayne and I were so extremely athletic that it was like losing a whole dimension of ourselves to not participate in sports. We felt like someone had taken our gifts away. We had to settle for sports days at B.I. and playing with 83

other passionate sports students at the school. Scott and John Pitcher were two brothers from St. George’s (most eastern end of the island) they were only a year apart but functioned almost as twins. They became our sports competition we often played American football, basketball, cricket any sport really. You know if it was a sport it would be Wayne and Dwayne against Scott and John. In basketball they cheered on the Boston Celtics. Larry Bird was their idol. Of course Wayne and I support the L.A. Lakers; we fell in love with the iconic Magic Johnson and his band of smooth “Showtime” teammates. We would come to school after watching the games and relive the game on the school’s court. At B.I., singing was a unique and mind blowing experience. Students were able to sing in up to four part harmony. It was like everyone could sing, There were so many groups and choirs you could not help but get caught up in a spiritual group and development because it seemed like music was always bellowing from some corridor, hall or class room. Every day commenced with worship in each homeroom. Three or four songs were sung, followed by a worship thought by a teacher or a student followed by reading of a Bible text and prayer. There were also chapel services where many of our peers surrendered their lives to God. It was a healthy, wholesome, nourishing environment. Just what Wayne and I needed at the time. Academically, Wayne and I did just enough to get by. We were very undisciplined when it came to studying and giving our all. Many teachers saw us as young men who had so much potential but who were more concerned about sports and the social aspects of life. Many a parent-teacher conference started and ended the same way with teachers saying “Wayne and Dwayne are talented young men who have a lot of potential. But they talk too much in class, they are unfocused and do not live up to their potential”. 84

I remember taking the ACT (American College Testing) and achieving the second highest score in the class. My teachers were proud and upset with me because my test score was an indication that I had the ability all along but had not applied myself. And that was it exactly. My mediocrity was calculated, I settled knowing that if I did more, more would be expected and I wasn’t prepared to give another ounce of effort. I did the bare minimum so that the bare minimum would be all that was expected. The same was true for both Wayne and me. We went through B.I. as average students flying under the radar knowing that once we showed capability and excellence, from that point on, it would always be expected of us.

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CHAPTER EIGHT Can I Come With the Big Dogs? (Wayne M. Caines)

What a difference a generation or two makes. Recently I was talking to my 16-year-old daughter, Maxanne, and she was lamenting (from her air-conditioned bedroom of course) the fact that Bermuda is boring and that there is nothing for kids her age to do. She went on to tell me how she wished she lived in New York or in ‘Hotlanta’ because there would always be something fun and exciting for her to do. As my daughter and I chatted, I smiled to myself and thought how amazingly different my life was at her age. During the summer when Dwayne and I were out of school we attended Government sponsored and subsidized sailing camps for two weeks and a Government sponsored swimming camp for one week. We would also travel to Jamaica for the whole month of August so there was a two-week period in July when we did not have any organized or planned activities for the summer. Our parents dreaded the two week period prior to our leaving for Jamaica. They knew Dwayne and I could potentially wreak havoc in that space of time. Prior to our parents leaving us alone in the house for the day they gave us explicit instructions that 87

we should not have any friends in the house during the day. My mother would also leave an exhaustive list of chores that had to be completed before we could go outside to play. Our chores would take us most of the morning to complete. Once our chores were completed we’d spend our days exploring and going on daily escapades with our best friend, George Botelho, who lived next door. George was a Portuguese Bermudian, his mom and dad were from the Autonomous Region of the Azores, a small island 850 miles west of Portugal, but still 2,000 miles east of Bermuda. Bermuda has a very large Portuguese population. We used to affectionately call George, White Bread, and he called us, Roman Meal Bread (a brown whole wheat bread). Dwayne and I were about twelve-years old at the time and we were diehard adventurers. Our daily explorations took us all across Bermuda. Sometimes we’d go to the Admiralty House Park where we would jump off of the cliffs into the ocean. Other times we’d go hang around poolside at the Elbow Beach hotel and pretend to be guests. We would ride our bikes to the Arboretum (a national park) and play football and ride our bikes all day. We looked for excitement daily as we traversed Bermuda; every day was a new adventure. It is noteworthy that in the early 1980s there was no cable television, we did not have BET, VH1 or MTV. There was no XBOX or PlayStation. Bermuda was a virtual prehistoric place technologically, having just two TV Stations and two radio stations. Our lives were much less complicated than they are today, kids played outdoors we were forced to entertain ourselves. On this particular morning, the three of us packed our lunches and got our bikes ready to go exploring with no specific destination in mind. We were just going wherever the wind carried us. My younger brother, Travis, who was about five or six at the time, asked to go with us. He said, “I want to come with the 88

big dogs.” We were shocked and alarmed at his wanting to come along with us because our parents made it very clear that if our younger brother was with us we had better not involve him in any of our shenanigans. We were honored to know that we had an eager and willing disciple who wanted to learn our ways and take part in our wily deeds. We knew that if we got into trouble our parents would be doubly hard on us if we pulled Travis into machinations. Having him along was risky in more ways than one. In addition to being nervous about getting him into trouble we were hesitant to take him along for fear he would drop a dime on us and tell our parents about our exploits—most of which we didn’t want them to know. We finally agreed to take him along but made him pledge allegiance to us and abide by the code of silence. He had to give us his solemn promise not to spill the beans about anything he’d seen us do. He agreed. So he packed his little lunch and off we went in our T-shirts, shorts and Chuck Taylors. His bike was smaller than ours but he handled it well. He’d grown accustomed to having to keep up with us. About five minutes from our house was a major thoroughfare, East Broadway. At the foot of the thoroughfare are boat moorings where a number of seamen in the area would park their boats, called Crow Lane. The owners of the larger boats that were moored farther out into the harbor would use punts (very small boats or dinghies) to get to their bigger boats. We’d been riding our bikes around for a while with nothing in particular to do. We’d had our lunch and before long we started to get bored. Then Dwayne had a bright idea, that was in fact a very dumb idea, of what we could do. As the ‘evil twin’ Dwayne always came up with ‘dark’ ideas for stuff and this time was no exception. He suggested we take a punt and go on a sailing expedition. We both loved sailing and would have happily sailed on a regular 89

basis had our parents been able to afford a boat. But they could not. Many were the times we’d sit on the dock and watch everyone else sail the beautiful waters; one of Bermuda’s most picturesque attractions. We often watched as our affluent friends from the Royal Bermuda Yacht Club or the Royal Bermuda Dingy Clubs sail around Hamilton Harbour with their families in their own boats, we could only look and imagine what such an experience would be like as our family couldn’t afford a boat. At some point, we took leave of our senses and decided to take a punt out on the water. The four of us had a blast in the punt; we were having such a good time, we rowed all over the harbor, taking turns fishing. We laid out in the sun on the punt like our rich friends getting suntans. Dwayne and I were already so dark it was not a sun-tan, after we lay in the sun we obtained a suneleven, looking like two prunes. After about an hour and a half we decided we should row the punt back to shore; it was getting late and we knew our mother would be getting home from work soon. As we were rowing back to shore we started arguing over who should do what and who should sit where, and then the fun part of our adventure was over. The boat was rapidly becoming unsteady from our unbalanced weight. Before we knew it, the boat capsized and all four of us ended up in the water without life-jackets. We tried our best to keep the punt from sinking but we couldn’t. We watched in hopeless helpless horror as the punt sank to the bottom of the ocean. We hadn’t brought extra clothing and we were all drenched from head to toe. It was catastrophic. To make matters worse, our younger brother suffered from bronchitis and being soaking wet subjected him to a serious bronchial attack. Travis began to wheeze, and cough. We were terrified. We knew if the owner of the boat found out what we had done, we’d be in deep trouble and could possible even get arrested. An even bigger problem was trying to keep our mother from finding out because 90

we knew we’d be dead if she found out. Being intelligent young men, we decided the best thing to do was keep it just between us; a secret we vowed to take to our graves. Everyone agreed not to say anything about it. Knowing that our younger brother was prone to episodes of chronic truth-telling, we told him he had to keep this secret forever and stressed that this was his big test to determine whether we would continue to allow him to hang out with us. We were very convincing when we told him we would go to jail if anyone found out. But more importantly, we impressed upon him the fact that if our mother found out she would “beat the black off our skin”. We concocted a story to tell our mother about jumping into the water to save a cat, but we would tell her only if she asked about the wet clothes. Travis seemed to be onboard with the plan. When we got home our mother was sitting on the porch waiting for us; she had a scowl on her face that looked like she wanted to kill but, initially, I wasn’t that concerned because I didn’t see a belt in her hand. The first thing out of her mouth was, “Where have you boys been?” We said, ‘Nowhere.’ She looked at Travis with a piercing stare and said, “Travis, where have you boys been?” It was as if she poured truth serum into him. He broke into a detailed account of everything that happened. He told her every little thing down to the minutest of details. Step by step, he recounted all the events of the day. Our mother was furious. She started shouting at us for taking someone else’s property. She said she was raising criminals and that she was going to be visiting us in Casemates (the prison in Bermuda at that time). She said, “Go inside and get my bustmecock; that’s what she called her rod of correction and I am still not quite sure why. Our first inclination was to run but she ushered all of us, including George, inside. Dwayne was first up for his whipping and he took it like a man. I devised a plan to lessen my lashes. I decided to leap off the steps that led down to our bedroom and feign an injury in order 91

to escape most of my punishment. However, when I jumped I landed in an awkward position and broke my big toe. I was in excruciating pain and when my mother saw that I had sustained a real injury, she could no longer be angry because she had to get me to a hospital. The whole thing was a harrowing experience. I was still writhing in pain when my younger brother came over to me and said, “ Tomorrow, can I still run with the big dogs?” I was flabbergasted, and so angry with him I couldn’t even respond in words. There are many obvious lessons to learn from this story. When recounting this tale I must say that I am glad the statute of limitations has run out and we cannot be charged for the theft and willful damage of the punt. I, however, do not wish to glamourize illegal activity. No matter how young we were and how much fun we enjoyed, stealing the punt was wrong and sinking the punt was an even worse endeavor that should not be repeated (do not try this at home). But the main lesson to be learned is that of being a positive influence. Many times we have the opportunity to make positive contribution in the lives of our friends, family and or colleagues. We must use every opportunity to support, advance and make decisions that strengthen the lives of those in our immediate circle. I am now cognizant of how much Travis looked up to Dwayne and me. I am grateful that this and many of the other capers of our youth did not end in a more disastrous manner. Being a good role model to the people who look up to you can be the difference between their success and or failure.

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CHAPTER NINE Who Threw That Egg? (Wayne M. Caines)

Our mother had a strict rule that there could be no sleepovers at our friend’s houses. She believed it was an incubator and invitation for trouble to allow us to spend the night at someone else’s house. She explained to us that not everyone shared the same values we did. Moreover, she didn’t want to risk us being at someone’s house and seeing or hearing something that she would be accountable to God for. She was equally concerned about us behaving badly and bringing shame or embarrassment upon her and my father. Dwayne and I hated this rule, we would always beg my mother to allow us to spend the night over friends’ houses. The answer was always, no! In November of every year, the Seventh-day Adventist Church in Bermuda had an event called the ‘dine around the world’ festival. Each church on the island would cook a dish and each dish represented a country. For example, Somerset SDA Church might represent Jamaica and the members would cook an Ackee and Salt fish. Warwick SDA church might represent Spain and the members would prepare Tortilla de patatas (Spanish Omelet) … and so on. People would come from all over the island to buy a 95

plate of multi-ethnic cuisine. It became a tradition in Bermuda. The ‘dine around the world’ festival was also an opportunity for kids from all over the island to come and have fun together. It was a family affair. Dwayne and I were fifteen-years old at the time and, just prior to the event, we begged our mother to let us spend the night at our best friend, Owen Simons, house. Our parents were well acquainted with Owen and his parents, they were good friends. Our parents spoke with Owen’s parents and they all agreed that we could stay the night. Owen’s father even reassured our mother that he would handle us if we got out of line. My mother gave Uncle Ray full permission to cut our tails if we got out of hand. We were elated that we could finally spend the night out at a friend’s house. For once in our scheduled lives we didn’t have to be in our own beds with lights out at 10:00 p.m. like John-boy from the Waltons. Owen’s mother and dad had a huge lunch at their house on the Saturday after church; Owen invited about ten friends over to have lunch with his mom and dad. As the day drew to a close, a few of the other fellas decided to hang out at Owen’s house that Saturday night. We sat around and talked, played board games and just enjoyed the evening. The Sabbath had ended but it was still relatively early, so we wanted to do something a little more entertaining. Dwayne and I didn’t want to waste our first night of freedom; we wanted to do something monumental. Club Football (soccer) is huge in Bermuda. On a Saturday night or Sunday afternoon, most Bermudians would go to a local football pitch to watch their team play. The football matches are filled with excitement and on any given night there are approximately 1,000 to 2,000 people watching the matches. On this particular night, we learned that our club team, the North Village Rams, was playing the Pembroke Hamilton Club (PHC). We heard that 96

a lot of people, including girls, were at the football [soccer] game down at the PHC. We thought it would be a lot of fun to go down to the PHC field to watch the game. We didn’t have permission to go but we didn’t think it would be a big deal. It was only about a mile away and we knew a shortcut we could take that would get us there faster. Our plan was to go for a few minutes, say ‘Hi’ to a few people, check out the girls and then get right back before anyone realized we were gone. I, along with Dwayne, Owen Simons, Derek Burrows, Kwame Webson, Jeffery Outerbridge and Shawn Crockewell headed to the PHC field. When we got to the game it was boring and uneventful. Dwayne and I refused to waste our first night of freedom. As we all headed back toward Owen’s house we decided to stop at the Market Place Grocery store to buy candy and soda; I don’t know why we decided to buy candy and soda because there was always tons of candy and soda at Owen’s house. Nevertheless, we went in to buy candy and soda. We walked aimlessly through the store looking for something else to buy besides candy and soda. One of our friends came up with the bright idea to buy some eggs. The idea was to take the eggs and throw them into the old railway tracks on our way back to Owen’s house. We had no intention of hurting anyone, we were just going to use them for target practice and throw them for fun. So we bought two dozen eggs. We should have known right away that nothing good would come of that. We started making our way back just holding the two cartons of eggs, we hadn’t thrown any. As we approached Owen’s house we realized it was still pretty early—only about 8:30 p.m., much too early to retire inside for the night. The Southampton Seventh-day Adventist Church was also right next to Owen’s house. Dwayne came up with the bright idea that we should go to the Southampton church and hide behind the wall that faces Middle Road and throw eggs at cars as they drove past. I passed the edict that we would not throw eggs at 97

people walking or at motorcycles. Only at cars, trucks and vans. We thought our plan was foolproof because we knew that by the time the cars came back to try and find who had thrown the eggs at them we would have long since fled the scene. And so it began, we carefully picked our targets and hurled the eggs at them. It was so much fun; we would laugh and giggle as the eggs splattered on the windscreen or on the hood of the cars. We even rated the damage from one to ten. After the eggs made contact with the cars, we’d hear tires screeching to a halt, which we thought was funny because the drivers didn’t know where the eggs were coming from. Just as we were enjoying our little egg-throwing extravaganza, a lady walked by and saw what we were doing. She shouted out, “You boys better not let one of those eggs hit me because if it does I will come up there and kick your a**es!” For some reason her statement infuriated me and I took an egg and hurled it at her as hard as I could. It hit her right in her chest and all over her clothing. When I looked closer at her I noticed she was pregnant, I was horrified. I had pelted a pregnant woman with an egg. Surprisingly, this pregnant woman sought to make good on her threat, and she took off after us with a vengeance. She chased us up into the church yard and all of us ran in different directions. I ran to the back of the church and jumped over a wall. By then, it was pitch black and I hid on what I thought was an air conditioning unit. Suddenly, I heard a massive crash. I was not standing on an air conditioner I was standing on a wound-out window pane. The crashing sound was the window breaking as my foot went through the glass. I dropped a significant distance down into the church yard. I had to lift myself back through the frame of the window through the broken glass and jump over the wall—still attempting to hide from this mad, crazed woman. While I was hiding, I began to feel a little woozy and lightheaded so I went to find Dwayne and the rest of our friends. When we

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all met up I was still feeling woozy and my leg felt really warm, I didn’t know why. I also sensed there was water in my right shoe and I could not understand why because I had not come in contact with any liquids. As I was laying on the ground they lifted my pants leg and Dwayne told me I had a gash going down the center of my leg that was about six inches long. They tried to convince me that it was not that bad, I couldn’t see the cut but I knew the cut on my leg was really bad and really serious because as soon as Owen saw the gash in my leg he immediately fainted (something that makes me giggle till this day). We were all scared for many different reasons; I was injured, I did not know if I would suffer permanent or long term damage to my leg, we didn’t know if the angry pregnant woman was still close by with plans to kick our butts, we didn’t know what we were going to tell Owen’s parents and, most importantly, we didn’t know what we were going to tell my mother. I knew that in addition to her being upset, she would never let us stay at anyone else’s house ever again. Dwayne was frightened beyond belief and stressed upon me the seriousness of my injury and said we needed to get me to a hospital immediately. Reluctantly, Shawn went across to Marketplace and called an ambulance. I was taken to the hospital. I still remember how all of my friends were crowded around me at the hospital—everyone looking scared. We were not just scared because I was injured, we were scared because somehow all of our parents had been notified and all of our parents were there in the Hospital waiting room and we didn’t know what we were going to tell them. Owen’s father, being an astute man, immediately decreed and declared to all of the parents “Separate them; get them in different rooms”. When he was asked why he wanted to get all of us in different rooms he indicated that by separating us we would not have a chance to concoct and rehearse our stories in an effort to make sure that all of us had the matching tale to 99

tell. So they separated us and when they got back together each parent had been told a different story. There was no clear and/or honest description of the night’s events. Then the parents huddled for a few minutes. When they emerged from their brief meeting, Owen’s dad (the spokesman for the group), said “If you boys don’t want to be grounded for two years plus get the beating of your lives, you’d better tell us what happened.” So, we recounted the whole ugly story in graphic, painful detail. Remember this was all taking place in the emergency room of a hospital, whilst I was waiting to be operated on by the oncall physician. Eventually I was taken into an operating room. I received thirty-six stitches in my leg. It was a harrowing experience. I remember laying in the hospital with my leg all bandaged. To add to my misery, I missed the ‘dine around the world’ event at Bermuda Institute the next day because I was in the Hospital. I was also not able to walk without the aid of crutches for over three months. I was not able to play any sports for almost six months. Lesson: Dwayne and I so desperately wanted more freedom; we wanted to be treated like young men. At the very first opportunity we blew it. We made a mockery out of the trust that our parents had given us. Trust is a very scared entity, once it is gone it is very hard to regain. It took several years for Dwayne and me to regain my parent’s trust. If people can trust you in small things they will be more willing to give you an opportunity for bigger things. Integrity is doing what is right when no one is looking.

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CHAPTER TEN Slyer (Wayne M. Caines)

If not anything else we were cunning foxes when it came to manipulating ourselves into prime positions. So it was as we entered our penultimate year at B.I. We needed scholarships to go to college and scholarships we would get. By hook or by crook … in this case the hook was to steal leadership positions among the student body. At Bermuda Institute it was a proven fact that if you held a student leadership office in 11th grade it was highly probable that you’d achieve a leadership position in 12th grade also, and that would all but guarantee a scholarship to attend the University of your choice. Our sister, Shereen, was attending Andrews University in Michigan, and Dwayne and I knew our parents could not afford to pay for all three of us to attend college at the same time. So, it was important for Dwayne and me to secure scholarships to fund our college education. We each ran for class offices; Dwayne ran Student Association Public Relations Officer and won. He was also editor of the newspaper. I ran for Student Association Pastor and won also. Our school (Bermuda Institute) was in the Atlantic Conference of Seventh-day Adventists. As 103

a result of our student body leadership roles, we were sent on School sponsored trips to the U.S. to participate in major events with other schools of the Atlantic Union Conference of Schools, which included Seventh-day Adventist Schools in Massachusetts and in New York State. Bermuda Institute was the only school in our region that was a part of the conference that was not in the USA. We would fly to various parts of the U.S. whenever there was an event that precipitated an amalgamation of brother and sister schools. Sometimes it was a gathering of choirs and bands; other times it was conventional meetings or symposiums. While still in 11th grade, we attended a leadership conference at Camp Victory Lake in New York. This was a very exciting trip because our hotel and plane fare were paid for by the school, and all our parents had to do was provide us with spending money. At the conference, we learned valuable leadership skills, and how to conduct ourselves in life and in leadership roles. We came away with a wealth of knowledge and endeavored to put it into practice when we returned home. At B.I., we had a computer science teacher named Mr. Owen Roberts. Mr. Roberts was a Jamaican man who was intense and a strict disciplinarian. Mr. Roberts had incredible technological insight. He had the foresight to know what a major part of our lives computers would later become. He taught us various computer languages and insisted we learn them prolifically. Back then our Computer Lab was kitted out with Commodore-64 computers, which were introduced in early 1982. This was highly avantgarde and advanced for education at the time. I was puzzled by Mr. Robert’s insistence that we learn computer technology; I didn’t see what possible relevance computers would have in my life. Little did I know Mr. Roberts was absolutely correct in his forethoughts of an impending computer-age. He gave us an assignment that was due by the end of the semester. We were to 104

read nine articles about computers and then write a 250 to 350page report outlining what we gleaned from the article. There were nine weeks in the semester and all nine of our reports were due at the end of the semester. In essence, we had to complete one typed report every week. Two weeks passed and I hadn’t read or written anything; I was too caught up in other things. I was, and still am, a procrastinator. I remember so vividly how quickly two weeks turned into three and then four weeks became five weeks. Finally, a week before all nine essays were due, Dwayne and I realized there was no way we could read, digest and write all nine reports in the amount of time remaining. We were deeply concerned because Computer Science was a mandatory subject needed for graduation and one had to achieve a ‘C’ grade or above in order to graduate the following year. So we were delighted to learn that someone in our class was writing reports for a fee, so we thought this might be an avenue we could take. It was a good option because it would take the pressure off of us to just pay him to write our reports and we could relax and be free of all the stress associated with having to put together nine complicated essays. So, we went to the classmate’s home and found out that he indeed would write all of them for us. The problem was he charged $20 per article and we didn’t have the money. That evening when we got home we approached our father with a fabricated story. We told him we were having a hard time with an assignment and the tutor who was helping us was charging for his tutelage. Our father found it strange and was very skeptical when we told him the story, but he felt sorry for us and wrote a cheque for the amount of $360 for Dwayne and me to pay our classmate for all eighteen articles. We realized it was dishonest but the pressure to pass the computer science was significant and our future academic success depended on the nine articles. Nevertheless we felt good about not having to struggle with 105

writing the assignments ourselves. We collected the completed reports from our classmate and turned them in. We were happy as larks that the assignments were done and we thought no more of it. Then about a week later, we heard through the grapevine that there had been a massive scandal uncovered, which we later learned involved certain students paying an individual to write their papers. It turned out that at least fifteen people had the same classmate write their papers and, unfortunately, each person’s paper was exactly the same. The principal, Ms. Rosmary Tyrell, called each of us individually into her office. When I went in, my homeroom teacher, computer science teacher and the principal were all there. I felt like I was standing before the Spanish Inquisition. The principal said, “I’m going to ask you once and if you tell the truth there will of course be consequences, but if you lie there will be greater consequences.” I knew the jig was up and I, like “Edward the Confessor” told them everything. I explained that we allowed time to get away from us and couldn’t get the assignment done. When it was Dwayne’s turn to go in he also confessed to everything. As punishment we were stripped of all our titles and offices we held. I was removed as Student Association Pastor. Dwayne lost his position as P.R. officer and newspaper editor. Each of the other fifteen or so students that were involved in buying papers received equal penalties. This was a significant event for our school because most of the Student Government Officers, Senior Class Officers including the Head Boy and Head Girl had to be re-elected. But sadly this was not the end of the ordeal for Dwayne and me. After the school day was over, we went home and received additional punishment from our parents. They were livid that we had been dishonest and that we had essentially caused our father to innocently participate in our dishonesty by giving us the cheque. 106

The next day at school we asked Mr. Roberts how he found out we didn’t do the work ourselves. He said the writing was good but he noticed an identical spelling error in the exact same place on each of the reports. Every report contained the word syler, which is a non-existent word. On closer scrutiny, after noticing that similarity, Mr. Roberts also noticed that every essay used the same font, spacing, and vernacular. So it was blatantly obvious to him that each one had been copied. As a result of our dishonesty, we lost our scholarships and almost lost the opportunity to go to college. In retrospect, the deceit wasn’t worth it because it cost us more than we gained. Lesson: Be sure all things done in darkness will come to light. There’s a high price to pay for dishonesty. We try to do things the easy way or take shortcuts because it seems more expedient and we don’t want to put in the necessary work. But regardless of the task you have before you, you must face it head on and not look for the easy way out. You must not let anything jeopardize the essence of who you are or what you will achieve by doing the right thing.

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CHAPTER ELEVEN The Bike, the Porch and Sour 16 (Wayne M. Caines)

In Bermuda, when a child turns sixteen it’s a marvelous thing for the individual, as they become eligible for an auxiliary bike license (commonly referred to as a moped). Unlike the United States, Canada and United Kingdom where kids can obtain a driver’s license at a similar age, in Bermuda you must be at least eighteen before you can possess a car license. A bike license is a very big deal in Bermuda as it gives a youth mobility long-awaited enabling them to travel around the whole island, indeed it is something of a rite of passage offering increased independence. The bike gives a 16-year-old a sense of freedom that every teen yearns for. No longer reliant upon parents to transport them, neither subjected to having to catch the bus – otherwise known locally as the old pink and blue. At sixteen you’re officially on the road, thus Dwayne and I were eagerly anticipating our 16th birthday in October of 1986. Up until then we had to rely on our parents to take us everywhere and if they were unable to do so, we would have to ride the bus. I recall spending what seems like half of my life waiting at bus stops, which was a real nightmare. Every morning and every 109

afternoon, I found myself waiting at the bus stop for the pink and blue. Many of our friends had birthdays earlier in the year and already had their bike licenses, so we were able to ride as pillion passengers on occasions, but we eagerly awaited the moment we could ride our own bikes. Dwayne and I talked about all the things we were going to do to our bikes; planning how we would kit them out (customizing and accessorizing). We were going to upholster the seats with cool new material, attach new mirrors, put shiny chrome spokes on them, and Dwayne said he was going to upgrade to a faster engine (a kit) that you could buy on the black market. We wanted to customize and hook up our bikes in every way possible. Dwayne and I both had after school jobs and we wanted to save to buy our bikes but we attended private school so every penny that we earned had to be given to our parents to go on our school fees. We knew that a new bike cost approximately $2,000. Dwayne and I assumed we would get secondhand bikes because our parents were not wealthy, and unlike most parents who just had to purchase one bike, our parents had to purchase two bikes. So Dwayne and I made plans as to how we would trick out our bikes. However, we had two fears; one was not getting a bike at all, and the second was the possibility of getting one bike that we both had to share. Even so, we were still excited about the possibilities that centered around our turning sixteen and becoming mobile. On the morning of our 16th birthday we went out on the porch and to our shock and amazement there were two brand new Suzuki 50s. This model bike had just come to Bermuda, and never in our wildest dreams did we ever expect two brand new bikes. We were speechless; dizzy with excitement. These bikes were incredible. They had the works; 50cc engine, mud guards, multiple gears, they were amazing. We stared at them imagining ourselves riding to school, overtaking and passing the bus, waving 110

to the girls as they watched us ride by, being the envy of all the guys in our school. We asked our mother if we could ride around the driveway and she said, “Of course you can ride around the driveway.” Riding around the driveway was a nice introduction but we could hardly wait to take them out on the open road. Our mother said to us, “Before you take your bikes out there’s something I have to tell you.” We were not prepared to hear what came next. She said, “Recently, we received your grades and I was disappointed that both your grades were substandard. You boys refuse to apply yourselves academically. Your teachers say you have potential and if you work harder you could be on the honor roll.” As she continued our enthusiasm was beginning to fade. She said, “I’m tired of reading at the bottom of your report cards that you boys talk too much in class and are the class clowns. How could you boys get a ‘C’ in Bible? There is no excuse for that. Dwayne, you have a ‘D’ in math and Wayne, you have an ‘F’ because you boys consistently live below your potential. Here you are sixteen years old in 11th grade and you still have not yet begun to apply yourselves academically. You want to go to college but you are not working hard enough.” Then our mother dropped the proverbial bombshell. She said, “So here’s what’s going to happen. These bikes that are licensed, insured and fully paid for will stay on this porch until your grades get better. When your grades get better and I see noticeable improvement you will get your bikes.” Right about then Dwayne and I both had sinking feelings in the pit of our stomachs. How could someone be so heartless. Our mother continued her adamant proclamation saying, “There are nine weeks left in the semester and both of you must bring your grades up above a ‘C’. I don’t want to see any grades lower than a ‘C’, nor do I want to see any negative comments from teachers about your behavior. Your teachers must say they have seen marked improvement in your behavior and academic dedication.” 111

We said, “Mom, are you serious? This is torture and pure evil! You bought us these fantastic bikes and we can’t ride them?” She was indeed serious. She took the keys out of both bikes and put a lock on each one, and then she and our father went inside. Dwayne and I looked at each other wishing we’d never gotten the bikes. Seeing them there and knowing we couldn’t ride them was worse than not having them at all. How could our lives get any worse We were having a sweet-sixteen party that night, and when our friends arrived everyone raved about the bikes. Dwayne and I had to come up with a story to combat the embarrassment of not being able to ride them. Our first excuse was the bikes were not insured, but as that excuse grew old we had to come up with a new story each time someone asked why we weren’t riding our bikes. We started to say things like—we’re waiting for chrome or other custom-made parts to come in from abroad. But as weeks passed we were running out of excuses while still being questioned about our shiny new bikes. On isolated occasions my father would cave in and let us ride to the store to get food items for him and it was the highlight of our lives. We would ride to the farthest store in St David’s ( the most eastern end of the island) to ensure that we enjoyed and savoured our ride. But when we returned, the bikes went right back in their spot on the porch. When we returned home our father would ask, “What took you so long? Did you go to the store by way of New York City?” Coming home every day and seeing those beautiful bikes sitting there was like having a knife driven into our hearts. It began to have a psychological effect on Dwayne and me; something strange started to happen. We started focusing on our studies more. We didn’t need to be told to do our homework. We became chocolate angels in class. We handed in all of our assignments in a timely manner. We knew we had nine weeks to turn our academic 112

lives around. Our future and the prize awaiting us depended on it. As the weeks passed, our grades began to improve. The end of the semester was approaching and parent-teacher conferences were coming up. At the end of nine weeks, with both our parents in tow, Dwayne and I nervously went for the conference. We were optimistic but not overly confident; we were just hoping for the best but prepared for the worst. Each teacher told our parents that we were different boys. They commented that they had witnessed a miraculous metamorphosis in both Dwayne and me. Neither of us had become ‘A’ students but we had dramatically improved academically and brought our grades up. There was no ‘D’ in sight on either of our report cards. My mother was so proud. She looked at us with a smile and said, “I knew you two rascals could do it.” As we were leaving, my father tossed Dwayne the keys to his bike and tossed me the keys to mine. Finally, we had our bikes. We were mobile! = It was the happiest day of our lives. Lesson: As parents you often want to give your kids everything they desire; all the things you did not have as a child. We sometimes give in to the whims of our children because we want to shower them with the things that make them happy. But there comes a time when you must use unconventional methods to effect a change in them that will ignite their desire to push harder for themselves. As a parent you have to use unpopular strategic techniques that are not always pleasant for your child but are necessary for their success in life.

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CHAPTER TWELVE “Catch Me if You Can” ( Dwayne A. Caines)

Speed and males go together like a hand and glove in Bermuda. In the 70s and 80s, there was a local phenomenon in the subculture called pack racing. Teenage males would meet in pre-assigned locations in early hours of the morning to race their bikes (the term used for the 50cc cycles). The very scary part of this activity, unfortunately, was that this was the number one cause of death for teenage males in Bermuda during that time. It would not be uncommon to hear reports of a male dying on the road due to pack racing. Also, this pattern of behavior resulted in a large number of youth receiving life-altering injuries. The Bermuda Police Service was acutely aware of this culture and had officers vigilantly policing the island looking to detect and prevent and, in some cases, catch perpetrators involved in this dangerous act. There were young men who were legends among their peers. They were known as some of the best bike racers who existed whilst others had the reputation of being great mechanics. Some young men simply wanted to have the most attractive bike so they kitted it out with chrome and a detailed spray job. Some were known strictly for possessing fast cycles. There was also a hybrid 115

of bikes that were both pretty and fast. There were competitions to see whose bike was the fastest and sometimes hundreds of people would appear to see these exciting races take place. Many would race for the simple joy of having “bragging rights” and other races were more serious where the winner would literally take ownership of the opponents’ bike and the title. There were specific locations all around the island where these races would take place. One of the most notorious spots was on Palmetto Road or known by the racing community simply as “Palm.” It was the Daytona Speedway for local race heads. As a young male, you wanted to say that you had been to “Palm” to see the races. All the students on Monday morning at school would feverishly discuss stories about the races they witnessed or heard about on the previous weekend. Wayne and I had never partaken in the subculture but a friend of ours, Lou Matthews, who was a year older, was keenly interested in racing. Whilst he didn’t race, he would go down to Palm to watch the races and he suggested that we go with him to watch. There was one small problem. There was no way that my parents would allow me to leave the house at 3:00 a.m. to go and be a spectator. In fact, it would be considered a breach of the household rules and it would result in a serious punishment if we were to attend. As many young men were dying on the road due to pack racing, it was not something my parents supported or considered. Lou and I came up with a hare-brained scheme that I would sneak out of my house to go with him to watch the races. It was 3:00 a.m. and everyone in my household was asleep but Wayne and me. Wayne knew about the plan but, uncharacteristically, did not wish to partake as he was convinced we would get caught and the end result would be an unpleasant one. I decided to continue along with the journey. I got dressed, opened up the window and 116

snuck out of the house. I could not believe that I was on a solo caper without my partner in crime. It was like Batman without Robin. Somehow it did not feel right. I got to Lou’s house, jumped on the back of his bike and we took the short journey to the stretch. I could not believe my eyes! It was like we were in another world. There were over 300 plus people on the sidelines watching the races. The smell of gas and testosterone filled the early morning air. It was organized chaos as young men walked around challenging each other to race. It was interesting how the process went from a challenge to the finish line. I was truly enthralled and amazed! It was clear that I did not have the nerve or skill to race but as a spectator it was an exciting place to be. As we were enjoying the race someone shouted, “De man, de man!” Another screamed, “Babylon!” These were all negative terms in Bermuda associated with the Police. Everyone jumped on their bikes and fled the scene as if rehearsed like a fire drill at one of the local schools. Lou and I found ourselves in the rear of the crowd, the last ones leaving the scene on the bike and a chase ensued. Like a young gazelle who strayed from his mother on the African Serengeti being chased by the lion, we stood out and were vulnerable. I jumped on the back of Lou’s bike, he hit the gas and sped off but the police were now in hot pursuit of us. Lou turned off the lights to the bike and we started a dangerous game of chase with the officers. As we were from the area, we knew all of the nooks and crannies of the neighborhood. We drove up to an abandoned house, jumped off the bike and waited behind a wall for the police officers to pass. While we were behind the wall, we could hear the police officers riding up and down the hill looking for us. What Lou and I were unaware of at the time was that we were outside of a notorious crack house. About seven or eight individuals that were inside of the house heard the police siren and came out and surrounded us in a drug induced, 117

paranoid state with zombie-like stares and a very aggressive and hostile manner. They screamed, “Why are you all here? Get from around here! We don’t want the police around here!” Lou and I were petrified! We could not run because we did not want to leave the bike there so I simply began to get very aggressive raising my voice and speaking in a heavy Jamaican Patois. I told them in very colorful language what I would do to them if they did not leave us alone. Surprisingly, my crazy Jamaican guy routine worked. One of the guys said, “Hey, leave that guy alone, he’s crazy!” They left us alone and we were able to stay until the cops passed by. We avoided the big one. Looking back, this is extremely interesting as I am now in Public and Media Relations for the Bermuda Police Service and I have sat on the Road Safety Council for 12 years now helping ensure that these type of activities do not take place on our roads. And Dr. Lou Matthews is now a Director of Standards and Accountability for the Bermuda Ministry of Education. There is a key lesson in this story. The best parents in the world are sometimes still blissfully unaware of all of the activities that their children are involved in. When I snuck out with Lou, it is not a reflection of my parents but of a reflection of peer pressure and my desire to know about what everyone else was speaking of. Parents must at all times remain vigilant and stay in communication with their children and their friends’ parents, and make your best efforts to ensure at all times that you are aware of everything your child is into. Some think it is about trust and it is, but it is also about safety. Teenagers often think that they know everything and their peers become their advisors and confidants but your parents and the positive adults in your life make the best advisors. That situation could have turned out differently. We could have been arrested and that could have changed the trajectory of Lou’s and my life. We also could have gotten hurt or seriously injured. Lou and I learned 118

from this event, as we never visited Palm in the early hours of the morning again. In this instance, because my parents were unaware of this situation, we were not given consequences but we had the opportunity to undoubtedly learn from the natural consequences. We now understood that taking risks that jeopardize your future and your safety is unwise and dangerous. Many men’s lives, particularly young black men’s, have been changed or altered because of one unwise decision that they or their peers made. I am thankful that in our extreme ignorance and stupidity, there was a level of protection that God had over us and that we were able to learn from our mistake. Lou, to this day, still remains one of my best friends and he has been a friend to count on in the trenches. He has always held Wayne and I accountable to our relationships with our community and our families. Just like in that moment of crisis, he has never turned his back on our friendship and in the years following that event, Lou became a positive influence in my life.

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CHAPTER THIRTEEN Don’t Give Up, Cainesey (Wayne M. Caines)

May 24th is a national holiday; Bermuda Day … the unofficial start to the summer. Old School Bermudians would never go swimming prior to the 24th of May. Bermudians love to be on the water, whether it be jet skiing, swimming, boating or simply frolicking about. Bermudians bring their yachts, racing and pleasure boats out on display for the first time all year. Many families enjoy picnics and camping out. The day begins with a series of sporting events. Firstly, there is the Sinclair Packwood Memorial Cycling Race that encompasses cyclist making a 13-mile spring from Somerset, the most western end of the island, to the central capital of Hamilton, with the winner of the event deemed to be king of the cyclists for that calendar year. Likewise, there is also a titled award for inline skating. Each event is a noteworthy accomplishment; although, the most significant among them is the Bermuda day half marathon. This is by far the most coveted. For over one hundred years runners have raced as fast as their feet would carry them from the Somerset western side of the island to the center of Hamilton. There are many other road races over the calendar year, but the Bermuda day half marathon 121

is the most significant. Spectators line the entire route to cheer on the runners. A victory in the May 24th half marathon race can catapult the winner into the pantheon of Bermuda’s history. You must be a resident of Bermuda to participate in the race. In the afternoon, thousands of people line the streets of Hamilton to watch the parade featuring the local Gombey dancers, majorettes and bands as they march through the street celebrating Bermuda’s history and culture. Dwayne and I were never at a loss for clever antics, and one day we were talking about entering the half marathon and winning it. We devised the perfect plan; all we needed was the perfect execution. We were both fast runners and knew if we pooled our talents we would be unbeatable in the marathon… [evil genius laugh]. We planned how we would both run the race, but as one person. We prepared a meticulous plan down to the last detail. We decided that I would leave the starting point in Somerset running as fast as I could, then fake an injury and Dwayne would be hiding at the halfway point (in Southampton). The Bermuda Institute (B.I.) was the halfway point, so Dwayne positioned himself behind the wall of B.I. wearing shorts, socks and sneakers that were identical to mine. The plan was for me to feign an injury, duck behind the wall where he was hiding, give him my jersey, and he would continue on in the race. Our plan was nothing short of brilliant. No detail was overlooked; it was flawlessly formulated. Dwayne was going to pour a little water over his head to give the illusion of the same amount of perspiration on me. After which, he would re-enter the race as me and run as fast as he could—passing everyone like greased lightning. The key was I had to be in the top twenty runners leaving Somerset so Dwayne could maintain that pace, And in the last mile he would sprint out in front of the pack and win the race. In the weeks leading up to the race we were preparing for it 122

but only minimally. We were not training as fiercely as we should have been because each of us only intended to run half the race. Therefore, it would only take half the energy the other runners needed. We knew our victory was certain because none of the other suckers, I mean runners, had an identical twin. As the day approached, we rehearsed and finely tuned the plan. On the day of the marathon as I was warming up, I stayed with the average runners and avoided doing my stretches and warm-up with the elite athletes because I didn’t want to be too obvious, I wanted to be a dark horse. When the gun went off I knew I had to take my position in the middle between the lead runner and somewhere around 30th place. My goal was not to start out in front; I was taking my time and maintaining a good position for the first mile. At the second mile I realized I was running behind the schedule we had set, so I had to pick up the pace because I knew Dwayne was waiting in the wings to take over and finish the race. I ran through the crowd as fast as I could. People on the side were shouting, “Slow down, Cainesey!” (Cainesey is what they call everyone named Caines). They were saying, “Slow down it’s 13-miles you’re not going to make it!” I could also hear people saying, “That young fellow is going to burn himself out running at that pace.” All the while I was laughing to myself because they were clueless about Dwayne’s and my plan. I kept running faster and faster, gradually overtaking and passing other runners. I started to get tired but kept on running because I knew Dwayne was crouched down behind the wall, and was more than likely very uncomfortable by then. I kept running and running, slowing down only for a few seconds at the water station to guzzle some Gatorade the Bermuda track and field association had so graciously provided. I was very close to the switch point; I had about one mile to go so I turned my jets on full throttle. I was enamored with Carl 123

Lewis, who was the greatest track and field athlete of that time, so I imagined being Carl Lewis as I was running. When I was about 200 meters away from our meeting point, I knew it was time to feign my injury. As I started to limp toward the spot Dwayne was waiting, I could hear people saying, “Poor fellow, he’s hurting.” As I got to the wall where we were to make the secret switch, Gerald Simons (my best mate Owen’s uncle) left his seat at the side of the road and started to run with me, he started to encourage me “don’t give up, Cainesey… hang in there, Cainesey, DON’T GIVE UP, CAINESEY!” Suddenly, I heard what sounded like hundreds of people clapping and cheering in unison saying, “Don’t give up, Cainesey! Don’t give up, Cainesey!” over and over. I was horrified because they were cheering so hard. The crowd was doing everything in their power to keep me from giving up. In normal circumstances this would have been awesome and the perfect scene from an after-school TV special, but these circumstances were far from normal. All eyes were on me while they were applauding and cheering me on so I couldn’t duck into the area where Dwayne was waiting. I saw Dwayne’s head pop up from the secret transition spot as we realized pretty quickly that it was a lost cause; our plan was doomed to failure. Dwayne came out and started running alongside me. Then the crowd really went wild—believing that he was running beside me just to support his brother. Dwayne and I realized there was no way for me to keep up the pace because I was exhausted. Dwayne told me I had to keep going, even though I wouldn’t win I still had to finish strong. At about mile six or seven my legs began to give out. I would walk a while and run a while taking rest stops along the way. I kept slipping farther and farther behind until I was in about 350th place. I barely made it to the end; Dwayne had to practically carry me. I ended up coming in 10th from last place. Lesson: Sometimes in life you have to do what it takes to get 124

the desired results. We look at successful professionals, scholars and athletes and only see their rewards and accolades but don’t realize the price they paid for them. We try to take shortcuts to get where we want to be in life, but there are no shortcuts to success. If you want to achieve a goal you have to stretch yourself and do what is necessary. You have to hunker down and burn the midnight oil. There is no substitute for hard work and dedication.

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CHAPTER FOURTEEN Coming to America (Wayne M. Caines)

In the summer of 1988, Dwayne and I prepared to go off to college. Initially, our intention was to attend different universities because we each desperately wanted to go our own way, chart new courses and navigate through new waters apart from one another. Dwayne was planning to attend Atlantic Union College in Massachusetts, and I was going to attend Oakwood University in Huntsville, Alabama. Oakwood is a Seventh-day Adventist historically black university that was established in 1896. It has continued to be an outstanding learning institution for over one hundred years educating many of the leaders across the Caribbean and America. As time drew near for us to solidify our plans for university, many people strongly suggested that it would be in our best interest if both Dwayne and I attended Oakwood. Dwayne and I were adamant that we would go to different colleges. Our parents decided that it would be more cost effective for us to both attend the same College, the compromise was that we would not be roommates. So going away to college was monumental for us because Dwayne and I had grown up on twenty-two square miles 127

on an island in the middle of the Atlantic ocean. Everyone in Bermuda knew our parents; if Dwayne and I did anything good, bad or indifferent our parents knew of the event in a microsecond. As stated in previous chapters we were raised in a very strict home where everything was regimented. We were tightly reined and disciplined by our parents. We were not allowed to go to the movies, clubs, or house parties. Essentially, almost every aspect of our lives was controlled by our parents. Our mother knew our propensity to go off the grid and act dopey, so she felt it was incumbent upon her to keep us on the straight and narrow. Being away from home for the first time was a unique experience for us. I do not want to paint a disparaging picture of our childhood that suggests our parents were severely strict or overly harsh in raising us because that was not the case at all. They knew that Dwayne and I had a proclivity for mischief and wrongdoing. They made sure we had structure in our lives and kept us involved in structured activities that would limit the possibility for problems down the line to destroy our lives and chances for success. Having said that, I COULD NOT WAIT TO BUST UP OUT OF THAT HOUSE... When it was time to leave for Oakwood, we didn’t know what to expect. We were eager yet apprehensive about going out into the big world known as America. Our father accompanied us while our mother stayed at home. When we arrived, it was all so new to us; it was an eye-opening experience. We were captivated by Oakwood’s beautiful campus nestled in the peaceful confines of Huntsville, Alabama. Dwayne and I were adamant about not being roommates. We each wanted different roommates and not each other. I remember meeting my roommate, Andrew from Tennessee. He was a gymnast and very organized, neat and a strict vegetarian. I met a lot of wonderful people on campus and got to do things we had never done before. I remember the first 128

movie we saw after arriving was ‘Coming to America’. We sat there watching the movie so excited by this new experience. I felt like such a rebel. I was just like the main character in the movie, Coming to America, a young (Prince) living in the U.S. for the first time. The only difference, I was not trying to find my Princess, I was on my quest to obtain an education. I remember driving in our friends’ cars and going to the mall. Our friend, Mason West, would charge us $5.00 to drive us to mall. At the time, we thought it was a huge bargain. We were able to spread our wings and be in an open, free and liberating environment that was unlike our sheltered existence in Bermuda. When it came time to get down to the basics of academia, it became apparent that we had some glaring deficiencies. Prior to attending Oakwood we sat for the ACT, a college entrance exam. My scores were average. On my arrival at College my academic advisor indicated that I would be required to take remedial English and remedial Mathematics; English 095 and Mathematics 095. I was told that if we successfully completed the remedial courses I could move on to the regular college courses. I was deeply bothered by this revelation. Dwayne and I immediately realized we were ill-equipped and woefully unprepared for the academic rigors of university life. We were sub-par academically and quickly found ourselves falling behind and suffering from a low GPA. I remember having the desire to do well academically but at that time we did not have the discipline and the requisite study habits to meet the demands of higher education. I would observe the study patterns of my roommate and how grueling his study routines was, but at that time I was more interested in the social aspect of college life. It was a thrilling new experience to be in the company of the opposite sex and, essentially, in a state of independence for the first time. At the end of my 2nd week at Oakwood, I was in a relationship 129

(who is now married with kids). When I started at Oakwood I was in between minds as to what I would study. I struggled with being a Pre-Law Student and being a theology major. I knew being a Pastor was a very serious calling and something I could not half step with. My girlfriend at the time was exceedingly focused in school. She was a phenomenal student and was on the honor roll. She would help me with my school work and encourage me not to give up when I became overwhelmed and discouraged, something that I remain eternally grateful for. I struggled with writing; I had difficulty formulating and putting sentences together. The truth is, I always struggled with writing and reading. I could remember anything but could not express myself in writing. Previously, if I had a written assignment or test, I would struggle to finish the paper on time. Professor Daley, my English instructor told me it was challenging for her to understand what I wrote but she said to me, “Wayne, you’re very articulate, and I suspect there’s an underlying problem.” Professor Daley arranged a battery of tests for me. Shortly thereafter, I was diagnosed with dyslexia. That was a crushing blow and significant upheaval for me because at that time, dyslexia was classified as a learning disability, and I didn’t want anyone to know for fear they would label me as someone who was slow, or mentally challenged. That was a very dark time for me; I did not know what the diagnosis meant. I had to learn a whole new way of studying. I did not discuss my dyslexia with anyone. I did not tell my parents, I did not even tell my twin brother. I felt inadequate, I had already overcome so many obstacles in my life, and I did not think I could ever pass my classes. I was almost sure that I would flunk out of Oakwood and return home to Bermuda as a colossal failure. My academic advisor mandated that I attend the Developmental and Learning Resource Center (DLRC). I was assigned two learning 130

coaches, Dr. Miles and Mrs. Daley. When I thought my academic career was over, Dr. Miles and Mrs. Daley, vowed to work with me night and day to help me improve my reading and writing skills. They taught me how to put words together. I went to Mrs. Daley every day of the week. Dr. Miles was my academic advisor. He was hard on me and held me accountable for my own learning experience. He was not the kind of man who could be taken in by my wittiness or fun loving nature. He held me to a higher standard. After a short period of time, they helped me develop a writing pattern. I was amazed at how things began to evolve for me. All that time I struggled through primary and secondary school not understanding why I could comprehend everything that was said to me but could not express myself in writing. I did not understand why words looked the way they did, and sentences didn’t work for me. I didn’t realize I had a problem that could be addressed and that I could move forward with greater academic understanding. I was able to develop a method by which to memorize and assemble words and put them into sentences. This was before laptops and computers so I had to write out a draft by shorthand of my exams and then go back and write a final copy without grammatical errors. Once I found the key to managing and moving beyond my dyslexia the world opened up for me. Dwayne was a communications major and many of his classes centered on writing, so it was critical for him to possess good writing skills also. Prior to writing this book, only my wife and daughter knew that I had dyslexia, for a myriad of reasons I have kept it private. I have not even discussed my dyslexia with my twin or with my parents. I hope that by discussing my dyslexia I can inspire and give hope to someone with a similar struggle. Oakwood University afforded us the opportunity to see strong leadership in a caring and nurturing environment. We were still 131

fun-loving mischievous guys but we found the environment to be academically supportive. Our educators and our peers all believed in us. It was challenging but we worked hard. We interacted with very strong students who were committed to learning and we knew if they could do it we could too. Oakwood had something called academic probation, which meant if your Grade Point Average (GPA) was below 2.0, you had to sit out one semester and come back the following semester. At that time, our GPA was teetering around 1.9. My father wrote us a letter saying that he and my mother were working very hard to pay for our education. He reiterated that our mother was working two jobs, and he was working every extra hour he could get his hands on to pay for our schooling. He told us we had to get our grades up or that would be our last semester at Oakwood College. I remember reading the letter and knowing we had to come up to academic par. I knew that my dad did not bluff. We did not want to return to Bermuda as failures. Incidentally that was the only letter that I have ever received from my father. It wasn’t solely the academic component that motivated us to bring our grades up, it was the social element. You could not participate in leadership or other activities at the school if you didn’t have at least a 2.0 GPA. Dwayne and I were becoming very popular and influential on Campus. There was no way we could talk big and not have the grades to back up our chat. Dwayne and I tried out for Natural Chic, which was a fashion troupe on campus (this was similar to the Ebony Fashion Models). All the pretty women and the smoothest men were in Natural Chic. Edwin Lightbourne, who headed the ensemble suggested that Dwayne and I enter the talent show. Stanley James was four years our Senior. Stanley was from Bermuda, my parents asked him to mentor Dwayne and me, and keep an eye on us whilst we were at College (something that he continues to do to this day). 132

Stanley told us that we had to work the “twin thing”. Stanley taught us a routine that involved walking across the stage with our heads held high, turning to each other, striking a pose and then walking back. We practiced over and over and the choreography was stellar. On the day of tryouts the Moran Hall was packed. Dwayne and I got on the stage and struck the moves with absolute precision. The auditorium went crazy, girls were yelling and screaming. As a result of our impeccable routine, the leader of the troupe invited both of us to join Natural Chic. Being chosen to be members of Natural Chic was greatly significant in our development because, remember, in our early years Dwayne and I suffered from low self-esteem. We always walked with our heads down, we would not look people in the eye when we spoke to them. Prior to this we had a complex about being dark skinned, we always felt that we were ugly and undesirable because of our dark skin. This positive affirmation coupled with our new exposure to young people from all over the world benefited us greatly. Music was another affirmative building block at Oakwood. I was an average singer with an above average view of my voice and talent. I loved singing with the Southampton Inspirational Choir, so I tried out for the Oakwood college a-capella singing group, the Oakwood College Aeolian. They were a dynamic vocal choir and had traveled all over the world. When I auditioned for the group, I sang an old hymn we used to sing in Sabbath school. After I finished singing the song, I remember the choir director, Dr. Ricky Little, narrowed his eyes and looked me up and down. I instantly thought I was going to be asked to leave, but he said, “Your voice is not a tenor, but you are a baritone.” He admitted me to the group and I was ecstatic. I remember being proud and humbled at the same time that he selected me of all people. I was singing and traveling with the best of the best. I was starting to 133

evolve into the man I knew I could be. At Oakwood University there were women who saw me as more than just a Blue-black scruffy boy from Back-a-town in Bermuda. At the time Oakwood had five women for every man. Women were genuinely attracted to Dwayne and me for the first time in our lives. We would receive compliments and attention from the opposite sex. We weren’t used to that. We went from having exceedingly low self-esteem to being considered arrogant or cocky. I always smile when I hear people use that term to describe us because little did they know how hard we had to strive just to not feel bad about ourselves. Dwayne was very social also. The now famous, R & B singer, Brian McKnight, is a notable alumnus. He was a fast runner, and Dwayne and Brian challenged each other to a race. The whole school was at the track to see the race. Dwayne took off his shoes and ran barefoot. Dwayne out-ran Brian leaving him in the dust. The Caines twins had once again become renowned athletes on campus. A major turning point in my life was in 1991 when the brutal beating of Rodney King took place. Not only because of the civil unrest in Los Angeles but because of the activism implications. It had a great impact on the student body and before long there were rallies and large student gatherings of young people who wanted to do something. Derrick Green, Neale Davis and Thomas Felder decided to organize a March on our Campus. We drafted about 400 students as well as significant rights leaders in Alabama to march with us. I remember speaking to an agitated crowd over a megaphone and they listened to me. When I realized they had been subdued by my voice. It was at that moment that I realized my purpose in life. I knew that God put me on this planet to lead. Through the Rodney King incident I realized my purpose was to lead. I knew I was put on the plant to make the world a better place. I knew that I was “called” to be a voice for the voiceless. 134

Oakwood was a breeding ground for spiritual and personal development. We were nurtured by some of the greatest minds of our faith. At Oakwood University, we were required to take two Religion classes. I remember sitting in E.E. Cleveland’s class as he taught about the life and teachings of Jesus Christ. I was mesmerized as a theological luminary taught us the key elements of our faith. I remember the best and most life changing lecture of his was about Jesus dying on the Cross, and the uniting of his divinity and humanity. In the middle of his lecture he started to cry when he spoke about the sacrifice and awesome nature of our Lord. I was at a university that was a Mecca for spiritual learning. I sapped it all up. On Friday nights, young theologians would get together and have what they called a preach-out. The theology majors would take a topic in the Bible and wax lyrically on topic. We (the men in the dorm) would decide who the best preacher of the night was. I loved these “preach-outs”. Now many of the men who were involved in the preach-outs are now Ministers of the Gospel and are now dispersed all around the world. I started to work really hard; my major was History and my minor was Political Science (pre law). I found an academic rhythm and started to excel scholastically. The Professors in the History Department, Dr. Hasse, Dr. Barham and Dr. Saunders were vested in my success. They really pushed me. They inspired me. They brought out the best in me. Oakwood University helped me to develop mentally, socially and spiritually. If the teaching staff did not believe in me and push me, I would have given up. I owe a great debt to my alma mater. I informed my daughter that she can attend the University of her choice, but I am only paying for her to attend Oakwood University.

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CHAPTER FIFTEEN Willing, Succeeding and Black (Dwayne A. Caines)

Our first year at Oakwood University was indeed a phenomenal year for Wayne and me. One of the first individuals we met was an immaculately dressed young man named Derrick L. Green. We didn’t know at the time what a significant role he would play in our lives. He was a student at the university and in a work-study program designed to allow students to assist in financing their own educational endeavors. Our first encounter was unceremonious. We met Derrick diligently vacuuming the lobby of Cunningham Hall (male freshmen dorm). He introduced himself and asked Wayne and me where we were from. We told him we were from the beautiful island of Bermuda and he asked us to tell him about Bermuda. This in itself was interesting as many of the persons we had encountered up until that point did not know where Bermuda was geographically, many assumed it was in the Caribbean, and their only point of reference was the Bermuda Triangle. We had a wonderful conversation and I remember it like it was yesterday. He said his family roots were from South Carolina and that he had Gullah blood in him. I had never heard that term before and didn’t know what he meant by that, so he explained 137

it. Gulla or Geechee are descendants of enslaved Africans who live in the low country region of South Carolina and Georgia. I realized he was attempting to find common-ground with Wayne and me. We became friends very quickly and he introduced us to his best friend, Neale Davis, who was from Atlanta, Georgia. Interestingly, Neale’s mother was from Jamaica so there was an immediate connection and kinship. The four of us developed an instantaneous bond. We moved as brothers as you did not see one without the other. Another thing the four of us had in common was that we all liked to dress well. When everyone else was wearing jeans and t-shirts, we made it our business to go to school every Wednesday wearing a suit and tie. Soon we were reputed around campus as being the smartest and best dressed. We also became acquainted with other likeminded men of standard on campus, one of which was a young man named, Mason West, who was from Alaska. I had never met anyone from Alaska before. His parents were in the U.S. Army and stationed in Alaska and Mason was born during his parents’ tenure in the army. Our peer circle was broadening with each passing day. I remember meeting a gentleman named Eric Walsh, who was the most radical young man I had ever met. He could articulate his point better than anyone I had ever heard in my life. He embraced the teachings of Jesus, yet he was also very passionate about the black culture. He listened to the teachings of Farrakhan but he was also a student of the black experience as a whole. We would sit in the lobby of the dorm and have fascinating complex arguments and debates over an assortment of topics; sports, politics, race, anything controversial, intriguing, or “deep” we debated. These debates were critical because in order to win or at least get the respect of your intellectual peers, you had to stand strong in your position but also be able to articulate your point of view so that your peers would agree that you had something 138

significant and meaningful to offer. With the passage of time, we thought we should capitalize on our popularity around campus, so we dubbed ourselves WSB. We were freshmen young men who were building a fraternal spirit. WSB was initially an acronym for Wall Street Bums, which was simply an ode to us dressing well. Our motto was “doing nothing and getting paid for it.” That’s what we thought of Wall Street Executives back then. We understood the importance of image for young black men. In addition, we would discuss critical issues taking place in America. Likewise, it was a time in America where people were looking for justice. Nelson Mandela was still in prison at that time and there was a cry for his freedom. There was a struggle among individuals in America who looked just like us; who were being grossly misrepresented in the judicial system as well as every facet of American life. We realized very quickly that we had to take a positive stand in America for the sake of those whose voices and causes were being diminished. Derrick Green who was a student of African American History was inspired by the student organizations of the 1960s, like the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee. Derrick was asked by Dr. Janice Johnson Browne, who was psychology professor at Oakwood College, to do any research project he wanted for extra credit. Derrick’s research was on why African-Americans should be Democrats. Jesse Jackson was running for President in 1988. It was an exciting time because he had a serious chance of winning the Democratic nomination for President of the United States of America. After that experience and the response of the student body, Derrick suggested that we turn WSB into a serious organization. One night in the spring of 1989, Derrick, Neale, Wayne and I asked ourselves what we could do to make our WSB organization more impactful. It was then that we decided to rename it – Willing, Succeeding and Black. Our mantra was not just 139

words but a way of life. We became an organization with hundreds of members from around the world. We wanted to be a Christcentered black organization that was a positive role model for the community while effecting social change first using Christ as an example and second using our lifestyle as an example. We wanted to show people what they could achieve when they put Christ first, worked hard, and believed in each other. We were serious and committed to our endeavor. We drew up a constitution, by-laws and elected officers. Based on our personalities and belief system we started to get the support of other male and female students. We wondered how to make the greatest impact on the community so we decided to develop a theatrical play consisting of a series of skits. Our first play was called, “Just Do It” which was a dramatic presentation depicting the effects of psychological slavery in the 20th century. Our first educational function was an event called “Black Facts” which was a key cultural discussion between the students at Alabama A&M University, University of Alabama in Huntsville and Oakwood University. Our second dramatic presentation and arguably our most powerful was called the Judgment. The Judgment was based on a court case wherein the prosecutor was Satan and the defense attorney was God. The audience didn’t know this until the end. The skits encompassed a number of sensitive issues within the community; violence, drugs, abortion, lack of identity, generational curses of male apathy and other delicate social and cultural issues. We developed it in such a creative fashion that it caught the attention of the young people in our community. The play was first performed at Oakwood and was extremely well received by the student body and garnered us a reputation as people who could capture the attention and hearts of young people in the community. Other plays included 60’s and 90’s, Same God, and Never Give Up. We then felt it was important for us to 140

take this program on the road. Before we knew it, we were being asked to travel across the United States. One of the first places we traveled to was Atlanta, Georgia, to a school called GAAA (Greater Atlanta Adventist Academy) and we were fully engaged the whole weekend. We talked to students about staying in school; we preached in the morning and did the play in the afternoon. Then a light bulb went off in the heads of the WSB members. We realized that what we were presenting to our community was a lifestyle. We would do workshops to encourage the young people to believe in themselves and understand the importance of achievement. We promoted intellectualism. We impressed upon them to believe that they have great value. We traveled all over the United States for four years performing in places such as New Orleans, Louisiana, Washington D.C, South Carolina, Mississippi, Tennessee and New Jersey. Another significant highlight was that WSB was sanctioned by the Department of Corrections in Birmingham, Alabama to go into the actual cells of juvenile detention centers to mentor the young men. Also, in the city of Huntsville, we became prison mentors for COARMM (Coalition of At-Risk Minority Males) under the leadership of the County Commissioner. After a few years had passed, Oakwood College realized that WSB was a positive unofficial ambassador for the school and the school quickly formalized the relationship, as we were able to merge the Gospel with a component of belief in one another. Now when we traveled, we did so with the blessing and financial support of our beloved institution. We received a small stipend and the school also absorbed the cost for transportation and gas. They considered us a part of the recruitment team of the school. What a phenomenal experience for me to take my God-given gift of communication skills, acting and community engagement and get paid for doing something that I love. 141

While in Atlanta, GA, we stayed at the Davis’ home, the parents of my good friend, Neale. The Davis’ were kindred spirits of my mother and father. We arrived at their home at 3:00 a.m. and Mrs. Davis welcomed us in, fed us, and made sure we did not want for anything. The care and compassion the Davis family showed to Wayne, me and the other students that came to their home was heart-warming. They held the same standards and values as my own parents and they treated us like my own mother and father would treat our friends in Bermuda. While we were traveling from state to state sharing our message, there was a unique kinship with the forefathers of social change. We felt as though we were following in the footsteps of the great civil rights leaders who had blazed the trail before us, like Martin Luther King, Jr., Ralph Abernathy, Malcolm X, to name a few. We were taking our gifts and using them to mobilize a community. It wasn’t uncommon to see us in halls with upwards of one thousand people, and engage them with our acting and then breakout in workshops about what we could do to enhance the community, the church, and the lives of each individual. It was a phenomenal opportunity to see young men and women my own age who were passionate about God, passionate about service and passionate about the community. I was traveling this road with people I loved and we were able to merge social consciousness with a good time. It was an experience that I’ll never forget. Many of the individuals who joined WSB over the years have gone on to become captains of industry; some are in politics, some became doctors, many are in leadership roles all over the world. But it was those early days of Willing Succeeding and Black where we had nothing but dreams in our hearts and the gifts of our hands and our collective voices that took us all across the United States motivating young people to see the value within them and use that ability to change and transform lives. I am forever thankful 142

for that opportunity because those skills I was gifted with some twenty-plus years ago are still some of the building blocks I use today in my own life to engage my community, keep myself motivated and always ensure that my life is a life of service. It was one of the most transformational times I have ever experienced. WSB - Willing Succeeding and Black – not just words but a way of life.

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CHAPTER SIXTEEN One Drive, Buick Riviera (Dwayne A. Caines)

It was an important rite of passage at Oakwood College, for young men to have their own transportation. This was important for “Swag” - putting it bluntly, girls like the guys who had their own transportation. If you did not have your own vehicle you had to take the bus or ride with someone who had their own car, in which case you had to give them money or pay for gas. It wasn’t uncommon for them to ask you for your gas money in public regardless of where you were. This was particularly odd for me because in Bermuda it would be considered rude and unkind to ask for money for a short journey. Now let me state, we are dealing with “broke” college students who would do just about anything besides sell a kidney (wait, I heard someone did that to stay in school) to get a little money. Many were “broke as a joke and it was not even funny.” Both Wayne and I had girlfriends at the time and we wanted a vehicle that would give us an opportunity to exercise our independence and quite frankly give us an opportunity to have quality (alone time) with our ladies. We had visions of driving down the highway with the windows down, music blasting and our hair…well “naps”… blowing in 145

the wind listening to a crazy musical mix of Commissioned, Guy, Public Enemy, Take 6, and Al-B Sure. Also, the cool dudes had cars; we wanted to keep our status as “big men on campus”, however, this could not be done from the window of the school bus. Wayne and I were very proud individuals and the lack of our own transportation was disconcerting for us. So we worked very hard to earn enough money to purchase our own vehicle. Now, as usual we thought it made more sense to save and buy one car rather than each of us spending our hard earned dollars on individual cars. So after pooling our money together and getting assistance from our parents, we had a total of $1000 with which to buy a car. Being the crafty schemers that we were, it was our goal to find a really nice vehicle as cheap as possible. There were rumors of an auto auction being held in one of Alabama’s small towns. We had seen the shows on TV and thought we could take our $1000 to the auction and leave with one “Fly” (cool) car or two cars for the price of one. Either way, we were sure that we would leave this auction with a sweet deal. A friend drove us down there the day of the auction and all the way to the auction Wayne and I had conversations about the kind of car we wanted. We said we should get a BMW or even a Benz. We thought that might be too much and we mentally set our sights on a Nissan Maxima or a VW Jetta. One thing was clear; it was going to be something awesome! Even though we had absolutely no idea what $1000 could buy, we knew it would be something HOT! When we arrived, all the cars were neatly lined up side by side. Wayne and I had no mechanical knowledge at all, we were simply looking for cars that would complement and represent our personalities. Being from Bermuda where the cars are relatively small, we were enamored, I mean blown away with the entire “Pimp-like” large cars. As we walked up and down the row of cars, we spotted a car that seemed to call out our names; it was a 1980 146

Buick Riviera. At the time we thought it was a Mercury Cougar and there was no real reason why we liked it other than it was nice and big. We set our sights on that car and we decided to bid on it. There was a bidding war between Wayne and me and a gentleman with a cowboy hat. Looking back it must have been a funny sight to see two island boys in a bidding war with a “good ole boy” from Alabama. We got caught up in the bidding process and lost our desire for two cars. At this point, we just wanted that one car! We wanted to outbid the “cowboy” and take home our new baby. In our minds it was the kind of car that caught everyone’s attention when you drove up. When we got to $957, the other bidder backed out. The Auctioneer said going once, going twice, sold to the twins standing by the car! Yes! Wayne and I got the vehicle! We were so ecstatic that we ran up and down the lot, high fiving each other, hugging, doing crazy dances, and screaming! It was one of those moments you never forget. We signed all the paperwork and were the proud new owners of a Buick Riviera. The final piece of our social puzzle was solved and we now had the last ingredient that completed our social integration into the American way of life. We had just purchased our mobile independence but there was a problem. Who was going to drive the car back? The elation and joy from the purchase was quickly overshadowed by the ever-present reality of who would be the first to “christen” the car or drive it. To some, this should not be a big deal but for Wayne and me this was a serious and complicated process as the first person to drive the car was the twin who does the proverbial first cut of the turkey on Thanksgiving or Christmas. We bickered over who would drive back and flipped a coin to settle the argument. As fate would have it, Wayne won the coin toss! To say I was upset would be an understatement but staying true to the code, Wayne got to drive the car first. Halfway back to Oakwood, I wanted my turn to 147

drive and I begged Wayne to let me get a drive. I wanted to press the gas and feel the joy of the open road and, surprisingly, Wayne compromised and I drove the rest of the way back. Once we got to Oakwood there was another problem. Who would be the first to take their girlfriend out in the car? Now this once again created a major argument on the campus, that debate set off a firestorm of quarreling closely resembling the Civil War. Wayne and I argued right there in front of the school library. Back and forth, “Why should you get it first?” “I want it first.” “No, I want it first!” We argued for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, the age old method of democratically deciding a fraternal outcome was instituted. You guessed it, we flipped a coin again and Wayne won the toss. I was angry! What did I do to deserve another loss? Wayne was to take the car first. My instructions were simple - please bring the car back in an hour so I could have the opportunity to take my girlfriend in the vehicle. Within fifteen minutes of his leaving, I was seething because Wayne had once again gotten an advantage over me. He got the vehicle and that bothered me. I saw his smug cheesy grin as he and his girlfriend drove off into the sunset. All I could see as they disappeared over the horizon was the back of her head as she gently leaned on my brother’s shoulder. That should have been me!! I decided to simply wait for Wayne by the school library with my girlfriend because the agreement was for him to return in an hour. I sat as an hour passed. I grew angrier and angrier with each passing moment. When two hours passed, I was furious because that meant I would not get my turn to drive the car that night. Oakwood had a 10:30 p.m. curfew and everyone had to be in the dorm with very few exceptions. Curfew was approaching and I couldn’t wait to give Wayne and his girlfriend a piece of my mind. It was not going to be a pretty exchange. He would get a mouthful from me. I mentally declared that war would take place that night. At about 148

10:15 p.m., I saw Wayne and his girlfriend on campus walking slowly toward me. Wayne had his head down. He came up to me and said, “Dwayne, you are not going to believe this. The car broke down in the middle of the street on Jordan Lane. We had to push it to the side of the road and tomorrow we have to get a tow truck to go get it.” I was still angry but my anger subsided a bit when I realized it wasn’t his fault. The next day we had the car towed to the mechanic. The mechanic came from underneath the car and said, “Where did you get this piece of junk?” To which we replied, “What are you talking about? This is a great car, why would you call it a piece of junk?” The mechanic stated that the car had an oil leak and the car was completely out of oil and as a result threw a rod. He said it would cost $2000 to fix the car. We didn’t have $2000; we could barely afford the vehicle in the first place. The mechanic then asked the fateful question “So college boys” in a sarcastic tone, “why did you not take a mechanic or someone with knowledge of cars to look under the hood before you spent your hard earned money?” He then looked at Wayne and me and said, “I need to go to college so I can get dumber.” The car sat there in the garage so long that we ended up owing the mechanic money for storage fees. It was costing us $30 a day for the vehicle to sit there in the garage. Now, I look back on it as a fond memory and warm story but it encompasses a basic principle that remains the same today. In order to be successful you have to meet destiny with a plan. Hindsight is always 20-20. Wayne and I should have gone in with an outlined, well-thought-out plan as to the kind of vehicle that would best suit our needs. We should have taken a mechanic with us to be sure the car was road-worthy and in good shape. But we were only looking at the surface and focusing on the image we wanted to project. We had no foresight. The same is true for 149

many young men and women today. They wake up without a plan, without a vision and without a purpose. Without direction and guidelines for our lives, we are like ships without a port or destination. The key to success is not only understanding where you are but where you want to be. You need a roadmap with clearly defined lines to make it to your destination successfully.

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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN Law and No Order; Journey to Law School (Wayne M. Caines)

I was once (several times actually) told that one could speak matters into existence, and as I matriculated at Oakwood University, I repeatedly put this theory to the test. I wanted to become a lawyer and told of this daily to any who would hear – and many who desired not to hear the rhetorical prose. I pursued, attained and served as the University’s Pre Law Society President and continued to speak loudly and often in reference to my aspirations to become a barrister. But if the truth be told, it was not something I thought I would actually do. However, I had talked about becoming a lawyer so much that it became something I had to do. Quite frankly, I didn’t have the finances to pay for law school and, more importantly, I didn’t believe I had the ability or necessary smarts to finish law school. When I applied, I was shocked and amazed that I was accepted by more than one university. I am continually reminded through the evolution of my life that God had His hands on every step that I took, and everything in my life was by Divine design because I was incapable of accomplishing something as monumental as law school relying only on my own strength and intellect. 153

After finishing Oakwood University, I was so Americanized, I wanted to live in America forever. I wanted to attend law school in the U.S. Bermuda is a British Dependent Territory, which meant that if I ever planned to live and work in Bermuda, I could not attend Law School in the United States, I had to attend Law School in the United Kingdom. This was a hugely significant development because my entire life and existence was in Bermuda and the U.S. I knew that I would have to leave all of my friends and family behind to move to the U.K. for my legal studies. At the time I was in a 5-year relationship and I knew I had to focus on my impending legal studies. My then girlfriend and I ended our courtship. I was an emotional wreck; a basket case. After I was admitted to law school, I had to figure out how I was going to fund those three years of legal studies. I knew that it would be a burden for my parents to fund my law school education because they had already paid for Dwayne and me to attend Oakwood University, and at that time they were paying for my younger brother, Travis, to attend Oakwood also. Therefore, I knew they couldn’t afford to continue to pay for my education, nor did I expect or want them to. I had become a man and I shuddered at the thought of still relying on my parents to financially support me through school. I felt weak; like a leech watching my mother work night and day to put me through Oakwood. Knowing that my parents were suffering and were not able to enjoy life made me hate the whole education process. So I made a decision to work for a few months, save and then go on to law school. My godmother, Helena Brice, contributed a large sum for my tuition. I also took out a loan from the bank and that was a weighty chattel around my neck because I realized that after three years of law school, before I made one dollar as a lawyer I would have to pay over $130k back to the bank. 154

The move to England was also significant because it marked the first time I was separated from Dwayne. In those days, email did not exist; the only way to communicate was by letters and telephone calls. I didn’t have my parents to rely on nor did I have Dwayne. Throughout my entire life, through my adolescence and into adulthood, my family had been the incubator that protected and covered me. I grew up in a Seventh-day Adventist home and got my undergrad degree at a Seventh-day Adventist university. Now for the first time I was soloing on my own without the safety net and refuge of my family. It was my first time away from the structure of the Adventist safety net. I was in the real world. Being in England at the University of Kent at Canterbury was vastly dissimilar to the environment I was accustomed to. I was forced to hit the ground running. I had developed inter-dependence with the nurturing environment of Oakwood University. I was forced to dig deep and pull from my experiences at Oakwood to help me to develop and morph in the next phase of my journey. I have never felt as alone as I did in my first few months at the University of Kent. What was especially significant was that I sat in these classes and I did not believe I could do it. I was overwhelmed with the enormity of the whole “law school thing” Even with a degree in History with a minor in Political Science, I still felt unworthy of my place at the university. I still felt like the dumb dyslexic kid from the back of town. Many of my students from Bermuda and other parts of the world were really brilliant and on full scholarships and could afford the books which were very expensive. Some of our books cost upwards of sixty pounds each, which is the equivalent of about $120 per book. I could not afford to buy many of the textbooks and had to borrow them or study with friends. I could not afford a laptop computer so I spent an inordinate amount of time in the computer lab. I started to feel sorry for myself. I lamented 155

and rued the day I decided to attend law school. I could not even imagine myself in a law firm. I didn’t have the connections with the big law firms in Bermuda I was still tethered to the United States. We were always told that it was the Mecca for law and if you wanted to come home and land a prestigious position it was in your best interest to go to law school in England. So I was there under duress; still emotionally tied to the United States. Everything was different. I was forced to learn a new system and I did not like it. The curriculum was more intense and there was very little room for error. Unlike the United States, there was very little concern about your background, your ethnicity or your life’s challenges. I was forced to step up my game. I had to focus all my attention on academics and put aside all the socializing I did at Oakwood. I acquired the academic framework from Oakwood College that I was able to build on at the University of Kent at Canterbury and maintain average grades throughout law school. I had learned the art of discipline and the ability to sit down and write and give 100% to my studies. It wasn’t easy but I was able to do it. After six months in law school I started to get a rhythm. I blocked everything out of my head and focused on my studies. What motivated me was returning to Bermuda to be a voice for the down trodden and for the voiceless. I felt as if I were preparing for my life’s work and I used the time to prepare for the next evolution in my life. I remember sitting in evidence, contract and family law classes, and being energized by the pursuit of academic excellence. I developed an excitement for the law. I slept, ate and drank law. I would prepare opening statements in my head; I would prepare closing arguments in my head; I mentally practiced my Call to the bar speech. Slowly but surely as one year became two I started to get the hang of law school and could see myself as a lawyer. At the end of my first year, I came home and 156

my mentor, James Landy, had me working on his construction site. I was very bad at construction. My only job was to push the wheelbarrow to assist them and even that was too much. I remember hiding in the tank of an unfinished house in the heat of the day while everyone else worked around me. James came to me and said, “I believe in you; you’re going to become a lawyer and you’d better become a lawyer because you are a terrible laborer on a construction site.” He was joking but he was encouraging me to stay in school. He loved construction; that was his life’s work but he knew I wasn’t cut out for it. During the summer, I also worked at night as a Bar waiter. My job was to serve the guests at the Coral Beach Club and I began to see the contrast in my existence working with the elite people of Bermuda as well as elite tourist who would come to the Country Club. I desperately wanted my legal career to change not only my life but I wanted it to change the life of the average Bermudian. I remember when traveling back and forth to law school, I would see businessmen on the plane. I would imagine myself in such a position, and I pledged that I would return to Bermuda and fight for justice. I wanted to be a voice for the voiceless. My whole persona changed. I went from feeling sorry for myself to wanting to learn as much as I could about the law. My frame of reference changed. I started to travel by train to Brixton every Saturday to go to church. It was an hour and a half there and an hour and a half back, but I made the trip because I needed to soak up some of my culture. Brixton was the black epicenter of England; I needed to wrap myself in the sights, the sounds and the smells of my culture. While at Canterbury, I met many students from other countries. I formed strong alliances with the African students and Arab students, and I learned about other religions on a deeper level. I learned about Islam and Ramadan and spent time with 157

students from different Muslim countries experiencing and learning about their faith. It was a beautiful experience for me as a human being. I was able to travel across Europe. Unlike the U.S. when you leave Alabama and travel down to Georgia, you can go up a bit and into Tennessee. It’s different in Europe; when you’re in London the next place over is Paris. We would drive from there to Amsterdam and then drive over to Spain. It was a heck of a road trip experience. My eyes were being opened and my territory was being enlarged as I traveled through Europe. I loved law school, I loved how my mind expanded, I loved the fact that I was on my own. I was not focused on being popular or dressing fashionably, I was evolving as a man. I informed the University that I had dyslexia. After receiving medial evidence of the same, they allowed me to have extra time for my exams. I had to work doubly as hard as all of my counterparts. I would have to read the same chapter over two and three times before I understood what I had read. I had to rewrite papers and assignments several times to ensure that my work was to required standard. Whilst at university of Kent, I met two of the best people in the world. One was Barclay Simmons; a fellow Bermudian. He and I hit it off immediately, we spent countless hours together. Barclay was a constant tower of strength and a most excellent academic mentor. Barclay has remained one of my closest friends. Whilst at the University of Kent I met a Bermudian named Maxanne Anderson. I will talk more about her in subsequent chapters.

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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN Homie, Lover, Friend (Wayne M. Caines)

It is a well-worn cliché that speaks to there being behind every great man an equally great woman. My story absolutely adheres to this school of thought apart from the fact that my ‘superwoman’, rather than in my shadow, stands and has stood firmly alongside me through my career travails. This love story began inauspiciously, whilst I was studying law at the University of Kent at Canterbury where I met a vision of a woman, her name was Maxanne, which was all I needed to know. She was similarly a young Bermudian law student, whom I recalled having seen once or twice over the years, but had never conversed with beyond simple greetings. Additionally, I had randomly bump into her at a mall in Atlanta, Georgia a few years prior. By the time we met at Kent, she was already dating someone else, so we became friends and classmates. Living on less than a shoestring budget on campus at the university, I didn’t have a television in my dorm room—I couldn’t afford one, nor could I afford the TV license fee (in England there is a mandatory tax/fee that has to be paid once per year). Thus I would split my time between my more affluent fellow Bermudians 161

who possessed this crucial piece of technology. One night I’d hole up in Brian Holdipp’s room, the next I’d impose upon Christopher Swan and following I’d have Maxanne as my host. I spread my visits out over three friends because I did not want to burden any one person. I would visit Maxanne’s room on Thursday night and we would watch “Friends” and “ER”. Maxanne and I would talk about our studies and about our families back in Bermuda. Maxanne would feel sorry for me and cook me a “greeze” (tasty meal). She would always say, “you are skin and bones” She was a confidant. She helped me and I helped her. Maxanne’s sister, Jennifer, was also attending the university at that time. There was a small group of us who hung out together — we were the Bermuda crew. On one particular occasion during reading week, we were all supposed to go to Amsterdam. Reading week was time off which you were given to study. Usually everyone just took the week off to relax. A bunch of us had planned to go to Amsterdam but it ended up being just me and Maxanne. Our relationship was strictly platonic at that time. We just talked and had a tremendous time together in Amsterdam — there was no romance at all, just good quality time. I was so naïve and did not know Amsterdam’s history at that time as far as their red light district, legalized ‘herbs and spices’ and other accepted morally questionable shenanigans. We were just there having a nice jaunt. We rented bikes and rode around seeing the sights. We visited the Anne Frank Museum, the Van Gough Museum and the Rembrandt Museum, along with a few street markets. We had such a good time. She had a boyfriend at the time and so neither of us would cross the friendship line. During school breaks we’d each venture home to Bermuda and it was during these times I found it very difficult seeing her as I had developed very strong feelings for this woman that wandered beyond mere friendship. Cupid’s arrow had pierced my heart and 162

I was beginning to fall in love with her, yet there remained the not so small matter of Maxanne being in a relationship with a man not named Wayne Caines. She would see me in the street and act as though she didn’t even know me, which was very upsetting considering the moments we’d shared while overseas. It took a while but eventually I was able to ingratiate myself into her heart and we became boyfriend and girlfriend. Maxanne moved to London to do her Bar Exams and I did my last year in Canterbury. I would visit her in London and on one visit I worked up the courage to ask her if she wanted to get married … to me. To my shock and glee she said, “When do you want to get married?” I jerked suddenly forward, almost stunned at my good fortune, mustering, ‘Let’s do it now.’ We actually went to the Registry office in London and got married without telling anyone, not even our parents or the majority of our friends. We each brought a friend to the Registry office with us but no one else knew. I remember being fearful to tell her parents, especially her father who was an Officer in the Bermuda Regiment and someone that was not to be trifled with. We had gone against tradition; I had not formally asked for her hand in marriage. Her mom and dad were devastated because her mom felt robbed of the opportunity to give her daughter the wedding she desired to give her. Her mother wanted her first child’s wedding to be a lavish affair held in the Cathedral complete with the white wedding gown and fruit cake. But we wanted to chart our own course and not play by anyone else’s rules. We did not want a big wedding. The wedding we had on our own cost us $120 which included our Reception at Chi-Chi’s (Mexican restaurant). If we had it to do over again, we would do it again. I know it sounds contradictory but my only regret is that our family was not there to share in our special day. In the early days, it was me and Maxanne against the world. 163

We were living in London and I was doing my Bar Exams year and legal finals. When we discovered we were expecting a baby we made a decision that Maxanne would stay home for eighteen months with our daughter before going back to work. We knew that our lives would be hectic, but we wanted to give Maxii a balanced start to life and we also wanted to give her as much love and focused support possible prior to her entering nursery school. Everyone questioned and challenged the decision. Many people including close friends and family did not understand why she would spend all that money on law school and then be a stayat-home mom. The fact was that we had to do what we felt was right for us. I secured a pupillage (an unpaid internship) in London but we were finding it difficult to be away from home without any family support system. It just wasn’t working out for us in London. I decided to send my family home to Bermuda where they would have the family support they needed while I stayed in London. However, as time passed, I missed them so much I decided to return home to Bermuda also. Our intention was to move into our own place but we couldn’t afford it. We stayed in the downstairs apartment at my parents’ house. As much as I love my parents and I know they love me, the living arrangement just wasn’t a good fit for us. It was too close for comfort. No matter how much you love your parents, when you become a man with your own family you need your own space. I was very close to my parents, brothers and sister, consequently I would hang out upstairs with my family like I was a single man. My wife would slave to prepare me a hot cooked meal and I would waltz in and announce that I was not hungry because I had eaten upstairs at my mother’s house. My mother, God bless her, is a strong force and would come down stairs all the time to hang out and chat. My father would be like “When are you going to leave 164

that man alone and let him spend time with his own family? I bet you are down there still trying to breast feed him.” and bust out laughing. My mother was not amused and would retort “If I am guilty of loving my family, call the police to come and lock me up”… (said with Jamaican accent). We moved to my wife’s grandmother’s home. My wife’s grandmother was a significant force in her life and she was getting old. We thought this would be an awesome opportunity for us to help with her caregiving and have a place to stay and raise our daughter. We had no money nor did we have a car. My father-in-law loaned us the money to buy a 15-year-old used car and we lived in my wife’s grandmother’s house. We sacrificed and saved every penny we could for the first five years. We did not travel abroad or eat out in restaurants for three years. We focused on paying our bills and saving money. We put all of our energy into planning for our family. Our plan was to own two homes in Bermuda and a condo or apartment in the United States so when our daughter went away to college she would have a place to live. This was a difficult time because we were living on one meager salary. I was happy and content with my wife and daughter but I was again mad at the world. I just struggled to find balance. My wife’s grandmother had Parkinson’s disease and had a caregiver during the day but at night we took care of her. We were a complete unit who looked out for each other and grew as a family. When my daughter was five years old, we had to make a decision as to where we would educate her. We wanted to make sure she had a balanced education. We looked at all the schools on the island and realized Warwick Academy was the best choice for her at that time. We were chastised by some who believed it was not a good decision, as she was not attending an Seventh-day Adventist private school. We made sure we instilled our values and beliefs in our daughter. We were confident that Warwick Academy was 165

the best fit for our daughter and we were adamant that we would do what we felt was best for Maxii. My wife is very organized, she is meticulous and very good with money. She describes herself as the brains of the operation. She is very balanced and when I get sidetracked with insane spending requests she would always veto my plans. I can say without fear of contradiction that we would not have anything if it were not for my wife’s fastidious saving and planning (please don’t tell her I said that). The joy of fatherhood is something that cannot easily be described. I love being the father of a little girl who needs me and looks upon me as her hero. I derive great happiness and satisfaction from fatherhood and my relationship with my daughter. My wife had a very difficult pregnancy. She was on bed rest from the third month. Maxii was born with the umbilical cord tied really tightly around her neck. At the time of her birth she was not breathing, lifeless and purple. I remember feeling helpless as I watched the Midwife and OBGYN battle to save my child’s life. From the day of her birth till today Maxii remains a spunky fighter. Maxii has always been exceedingly strong willed and determined. She has her own opinion on everything and her main objective in life is to prove her dad wrong. In times past when I would complain to my mother about Maxii, she would die laughing and say “My God does not pay his debts in money”. Being a dad is the most gratifying and blessed experience that I have experienced in my life. I love spending time with my daughter and sharing my life’s experiences with her. I love being able to be a part of developing her character. One of the main reasons I became focused and wanted to excel as a professional was so that I could set an example for my little girl and remind her that the sky was the limit. When my daughter was in the Second Grade at Warwick Academy we noticed that she started to struggle in school. We had her tested 166

at the Bermuda Reading Clinic and it was determined that she had dyslexia. Initially, I was mortified; I had passed on my gimp learning gene to my daughter. I was filled with a sense of failing. I so desperately wanted Maxii to have an easier go at life than I did. My wife tough loved me; she said: “Stop being a punk! This is not about you, Wayne! Our child is brilliant. She has a challenge with dyslexia; now that we have a diagnosis we will ensure that she gets all of the academic support that she needs.” I agreed, and from that moment on, we ensured that Maxii had all the academic support that she needed. Marlyn Mendez from the Bermuda Reading Clinic became Maxanne’s tutor. Marlyn met with Maxanne every morning at 8:00 a.m. for extra lessons. They spent Sundays and several other days together over the period of three years, just working on Maxanne’s reading. Marlyn tutored Maxii for three years, but remains her mentor and confidant until today. Marlyn’s help and tutoring gave Maxii confidence and taught her alternative learning styles that have been an amazing help in her life’s journey. We owe a great debt of gratitude to Warwick Academy, the Reading Clinic and Marlyn for their invaluable support. One day I received a distraught call from my daughter, she said, “Dad, my period has just come on; I am in PE in swimming class.” I could hear in her voice that she was deeply distressed. I told her I would be there in fifteen minutes. Now normally such matters are handled by my lovely wife but on this occasion, and as my luck would have it, my wife was traveling on business. This incident was significant because my daughter’s menstruation cycle had come on for the very first time. I was panicking. I walked into Peoples’ Pharmacy and started picking up items. I picked up pads (with wings, without wings, scented and unscented), tampons, douches, panty liners, feminine sprays and wipes. I purchased about $150 worth of products and then rushed to my daughter’s 167

school. I found my daughter sitting in the changing room just repulsed. I took my suit jacket off and wrapped it around her waist. I walked her to the car. Maxii looked into the two bags full of products and she just giggled. She simply said, “Thanks Dad! You are the best”. She held my hand as we drove home in silence. That was my best day (so far) as a parent. I am so glad that I have been entrusted to be a part of developing her life and molding her character. After five years of marriage we decided we needed to buy our own house. We tried everything in our power to get a loan but we were turned down by bank after bank. It was very disheartening. I remember walking down the street crying after being denied yet another loan. I remember it was raining and a man that I now know to be Rhamadin “Rammy” Smith came over to me and asked what was wrong. I poured out my heart to him. I told him I had done everything that I was supposed to do; both my wife and I finished law school and were qualified lawyers; we lived within our means, we had not traveled for years, we saved every penny, and still could not qualify for a loan to own our own home. Rammy shared with me that he had been in a similar situation many years ago. He encouraged me not to give up and he told me that he could assure me that I would have my home, I just had to stay to the wicket. He also referred me to a friend of his at a local bank. That friend of his intervened in the loan application process and a very short time after our meeting, my wife and I were approved for our home mortgage. Marriage has not always been easy for me. I had a hard time settling into the role of a husband and father. My wife began her legal career when our daughter turned two years old. Bermuda is a small place and my wife and I were practicing law in the same community. Oftentimes, my wife would act as Duty Counsel (a Government appointed defense lawyer that was provided for 168

people who could not afford a lawyer). It was a nightmare to appear in Court as a prosecutor when she was defense counsel. My wife could not handle my professional aggressive nature. She would take my jabs and court banter personally and would seek retribution in the unhealthiest manners such as withholding the “tings” from me in the small hours of the morning. My wife would go into the prisoners dock to chat with her clients. I thought this was most unsafe. I could not concentrate on whatever I was doing when she was in the courtroom. I was hyper-protective when she was around the prisoners. My wife’s presence in the courtroom was exceedingly distracting. I would become irate when I saw prisoners in the courtroom leering at her and making obscene gestures about her; it would make me very angry. One day I got so mad, I told her she could not come back in the courtroom anymore. I told her she had to find another area of law to practice. My wife scoffed at the idea that I would tell her what to do with her legal career. There came a point where there was a Mexican standoff in terms of both of us digging our heels into practicing at the criminal bar. The truth was my wife was a very good advocate; she worked well with the clients and got along really well with the judges. My wife has always wanted to be a judge in the Supreme Court of Bermuda. She reminded me that it was her aim to practice in a few different areas of the law, so that she could have well-rounded and diverse areas of legal proficiency. Even with all the love and support I received from my wife, there was a point that I hurt her very deeply and I thought the damage was irreversible. I didn’t think we could get past it. I remember seeing her cry and I wanted to hurt myself because I had caused her so much pain. We were recommended to go to the Family Intimacy Center. We went through months of counselling. We were able to make it through a very difficult period. I am 169

grateful to my wife for believing in me and not giving up on me. At the core of my relationship with my wife is friendship and mutual respect. We have been married for eighteen years. It has not always been easy, but as we have gotten older we have grown closer. It has been a most excellent journey. I look forward to the next half of our life together.

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CHAPTER NINETEEN You’re in the Army Now (Wayne M. Caines)

In 2014, Bermuda still stands as one of the few democratic jurisdictions enforcing mandatory military service for men between the ages of eighteen and thirty-five, although extreme pressure has been applied by various pacifist, anti-conscription and civil rights groups. But until legislation is passed to the contrary conscripted men remain under requirement to serve in the Bermuda Regiment for three years and two months at Her Majesty the Queen’s pleasure. I always dreaded the notion of going into the army; it was something that made no sense to me. So my plan after law school was to use the fact that I was a lawyer as a means of avoiding service. When I returned home from England I promptly appeared in front of the Exemption Tribunal in an effort to be excused from any and all regimental duties. However, the Exemption Tribunal would hear none of my pleadings, denying my request for exclusion, and I landed as did my rucksack, with a thud at Warwick Camp, headquarters of the Bermuda Regiment. I remember going to recruit camp and being exasperated on the first day. I had very little time and tolerance for that entire 173

enterprise of screaming, drilling and demanding superiors. It was an appalling prospect in my opinion, “…turn boys into men,” I’d mutter, “I’m already a fricken lawyer and a father, what more man need I be?” In my mind, I did not belong there, I was better than that. I was in the barracks with 18-year-old boys just out of high school and I felt as though the whole thing was a colossal waste of my time. Everything I did, I would do half-heartedly. I had no enthusiasm whatsoever. After all the academic and professional dues I paid I felt mandatory military service was beneath me on every level. I was exacerbated with the prospect of surrendering one night per week and one weekend a month to the Bermuda Regiment. I felt I had so much more to offer my family, practice of Law, my community than to play silly buggers at the Bermuda Regiment. At the end of the first week of Recruit Camp, I found that I enjoyed the physical exercises. I liked the assault course that challenged and tested your manhood. My Platoon Commander was Captain Marc Telemaque, he was my age and he was also a lawyer. He was confident, articulate and an awesome leader. I was impressed with him, I observed as he connected on several levels with the young and older soldiers. In that environment it did not matter whether you were black or white, rich or poor, either you could do the twenty-five push-ups or you could not. Either you could run in the requisite time or you could not. The physical rigor of the Regiment separated the men from the boys. As men we proffered our respect when we saw that a fellow recruit had the moxie to complete the tasks assigned. I remember struggling with rifle stripping and assembling in the required amount of time. I would see the young 18-year-old men, whom I had initially looked down on, accomplishing tasks with a set of skills I did not possess. From that point I found myself stepping down from my position of arrogance and haughtiness and 174

I started to learn from the men around me. The Lance Corporals and full Corporals were young men of nineteen and twenty years old and I had to retreat from my position of narcissism and selfabsorption and give them the respect they were due. I started to see my time in the Regiment in a different light. I started to see it from a position of service to my country. The Bermuda Regiment has three main purposes: To help in the time of national and natural disasters, such as hurricanes; to bring order during civil rioting or unrest, and to act as ceremonial guard for events such as funerals, parades or other events requiring ceremonial overseeing and supervision. When you are serving in the Regiment you are part of an important unit. I stopped focusing on myself as a solitary individual and began to embrace the spirit of service to my country. They had something called the Corporal’s Cadre that they would come to recruit young men for. By that time, I was looking for opportunities to make the most of my time in the Regiment. I didn’t want to be the one who was yelled at all the time, I wanted to move up the ranks and be in a position of authority. I went to talk to the head of the Bermuda Regiment, Lieutenant Colonel Eddie Lamb (now a mentor and a close friend), to ask what I needed to do to advance to Officer. Lt. Col. Lamb gave me such a motivational speech, I felt as if I could walk on water after our meeting. Lt. Col. Lamb took me under his wing and personally trained me. He told me I would have to go to the Royal Military Academy at Sandhurst in England (RMAS), and undergo the Territorial Army officer’s training. The RMAS is the equivalent of West Point in the United States. It is an elite training school for military officers from Britain and the British Commonwealth. It has been there for hundreds of years training officers to lead their countries. Derrick “Bobby” Hurdle, Marlon “Ali Babba” Williams and I were sent by the Government of Bermuda to Sandhurst’s Territorial Army 175

Commissioning Course. I remember the first day I arrived, I was mesmerized by the opulence and pristine condition of the entire military facility. We had to undergo an arduous training program. The rifles were different from the ones we used in Bermuda and, once again, I struggled with rifle assembly and disassembly. I did not have a command of that portion of military training. I had to practice for days to be able to pass the entrance exam. I had trained for month prior to going to Sandhurst; I was in peak physical condition. What I lacked in military skills I made up for in my speed, strength and fortitude. It was a demanding program. We had to do night navigational exercises to be able to find our way in the dark. We had to practice military maneuvers and simulated rescue exercises that required you to formulate a plan instantaneously and you would be graded accordingly. It was a grueling process. I was being tested militarily, emotionally, physically, every day in every possible way, and it was taking a devastating toll on me. At one stage my knee blew out, I was knackered and lay on the ground wincing in pain. I was given the opportunity to be RTUed (Returned to Unit) and I refused. I would never return to Bermuda as a failure. There was a lot riding on our success. Our Government had spent a large amount of money for me to attend the course. I asked the Military doctor to give me a shot of hydrocortisone in my knee and I carried on. At times I wondered why I was putting myself through the stress and strain of officer training when I could have just stayed in Bermuda and served my three years and two months as a Lance Corporal. I pondered to myself, why was I afflicted with such ambition? Why couldn’t I just keep my tail quiet and be satisfied with my lot in life and just cruise through life like everyone else? Then I was reminded that I had been blessed with certain skills and abilities and to whom much is given much is required. I pressed as hard as I could and 176

graduated from the Royal Military Academy at Sandhurst and came back to Bermuda commissioned by Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth II, as a Second Lieutenant in the Bermuda Regiment, ready to take my place as a leader and give back to my country. My fellow officers and I taught young recruits traditional military skills; weaponry and physical endurance. But we also taught them about honor and integrity, and showed them strong positive leadership. One of my favorite times in the Bermuda Regiment was as a Second Lieutenant during recruit camp. There were four platoons and each would battle at the end of camp to see which platoon was the greatest. Each platoon commander had thirty recruits in their charge. At the end of the two-week camp, the platoon recruits would square-off in a series of competitions, i.e., military skills, marching and shooting. All scores were aggregated and at the end there was one winning platoon commander. The marching competition was the one that held the most weight. It was a parade that family, friends and dignitaries attended. I was certain I would be the best. I made sure my men were up to par and ready for all the competitions. I was confident I would be platoon commander of the year. Many people were there for the competition, including my family. My platoon had worked really hard and my Sergeant Major had worked really hard to ensure that the lads were ready for the drill competition. My platoon was immaculately turned out, their kit was in pristine condition, and their uniforms were without spot or blemish. As the drill competition started, my platoon marched strongly and proudly onto the military square, they marched on my command accompanied by the Regimental Band. Everything was going swimmingly and just as we were about to end and march off the Regimental Square, I called the last left turn on the wrong foot. As a result of my badly given command, the men 177

lost their pace and position and crashed into each other. I stood there in horror as I watched these hard-working young men in my platoon flounder because of my inability to issue the correct commands. They had what it took to win and I felt as though I failed them. I remember sitting in the barracks that night dejected and feeling that I had failed my men. It was then that one of the young men in my platoon came over to me and said, “Sir, we lost the competition and came in last but these last two weeks have been the best time of my life. Not only did you spend time with us teaching us to march, you encouraged us. Every time we stood in the rain I would turn around and you would be there getting soaked with us and you didn’t have to be. That showed me that you cared about us. When one of our soldiers got sick you were in the infirmary with him. That is leadership. You inspired us. Our early morning runs when we ran in the rain and you quoted Bible texts while we were running changed me.” Then all the men got up and like it was planned shouted in unison at the top of their lungs … “Philippians 4:13: I CAN DO ALL THINGS THROUGH CHRIST THAT STRENGTHS ME!” He continued: “No, we did not win today, Sir, but we came away better men as a result of your leadership.” I stood in the Barrack room with tears streaming down my face. I finally got it! I was walking into my destiny and every time I tried to exalt myself I would be reminded of my purpose in life and then be re-grounded, rerooted re-dedicated to the service of mankind. Everything in my military career revolved around that conversation with my young soldiers. I went into the Bermuda Regiment thinking it was about me and my unwillingness to serve because of my legal career. And then later it became about my subsequent desire to rise in rank. But it was never about me. It became apparent that before I could lead I had to serve. God had given me so much and I had to learn a different method 178

of service. I had to allow my light to shine for young men who would normally not be in my sphere. I thought leadership was confined to the church or to the courtroom, but God gave me a different platform. Initially, I disagreed with conscription and the Regiment as did many men. But sometimes you are given a nontraditional avenue to lead and change lives. I am thankful for the opportunity to touch the lives of those whose paths I crossed in the Bermuda Regiment.

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CHAPTER TWENTY Crown Counsel (Wayne M. Caines)

After a tortuous ride through law school and my eventual conquest of both it and barriers to Maxanne, my confidence was lifted exponentially to a point of arrogance – for there is a fine line between these modes of thought. I was now king of all that surrounded and it was with the mindset of assuming the deserved throne that I returned to Bermuda diploma armed, only to find my conquests to be those of great rumor, my crown nonbejeweled and my throne non-existent. There was no kingdom, only desolation and from this resource setting I had to build. Again. I landed as my rucksack, with a thud. Yet, an initial foray into foraging provided a glimmer of hope as the timing of my arrival home coincided with the formation of telecommunications start-up, Global Crossing, as part of the ‘dot com’ boom that came with the dawning of the Internet and its myriad possibilities and promise. This company was said to be the wave of the future, producing millionaires, strong professionals and persons of great influence all over the world. I filled out the employment application and got the job. Perhaps I was right about becoming king, even if I was at or near the lowest rung 181

of the corporate ladder. Given the company’s rapid growth and my being equipped with a law degree, I was certain I would be catapulted into a senior management position relatively quickly. It was an excellent place to work and success would soon follow … or not. Nine months into my initial corporate employment experience the bubble burst with the closure of Global’s Bermuda Office. I found myself a married, unemployed lawyer with a young child. I had to find employment wherever I could, so my godmother secured employment for me as an orderly at night in a nursing home. My job was to wash, administrate, clean and take care of the personal needs of the nursing home patients. I looked for other employment opportunities during the day and worked at the nursing home at night from 5:00 p.m. to the following morning. I had to support my wife and daughter but I was very angered by the state of my life at that time. I cannot describe how angry and frustrated I was. How could I be unemployed with a law degree? It made no sense. I had overcome so many challenges and struggles throughout my academic career and in my life in general. How come I could not get a break through? Several of my law school friends had landed jobs in prestigious law firms and were being offered lucrative opportunities while I was wearing scrubs and bathing elderly men and women in a nursing home. I became despondent - I shook my fist in the face of God and asked Him how He could take me through so many things, show me so much, give me so much potential, and then bring me to a place where I am still at the bottom. My wife and I made the decision that she would stay at home with our daughter for the first two years of her life. My wife, my daughter and I were staying in the upstairs bedroom of her grandmother’s home. I was grateful to my wife’s grandmother for letting us reside in her home but I was not happy. I wanted my own place, I wanted my own space. This was 182

not how it was supposed to be. I felt that every door should have been open for me but every door seemed closed and locked. I was full of rage and anger, and it eventually seeped into my marriage. I was mad at my wife and she was the most supportive and loving woman that a man could ask for. She was also sacrificing greatly for our family. I lost my passion for the Church and my desire to attend weekly services. I was an angry black man. I was estranged from everything and everyone. I remember an incident at the rest home with an older gentleman one day while I was giving him a bath. As I was finishing up, he said to me, “Caines, you forgot to wash my balls.” I remember saying something like, “All right, Mr. Swan, take it easy.” I got a washcloth and I finished washing his testicles as per his request. No happy ending of course. It was at that very moment that I got it; I understood the need to serve others. I realized I was not ready to be in the world of law. I was so cocky, so full of self, I needed to learn humility and how to be of service to my fellow man. I now know that I had to privately develop my character through learning to be a servant to the most vulnerable citizens in the country in order for me to be able to have a clear understanding and appreciation of my Life’s purpose. Working in the rest home allowed me to become a more loving, caring person. An added benefit to working in the rest home at night was that it allowed me to spend time with my wife and daughter during the day and my relationship with my wife and daughter began to grow stronger. One day while out for a walk I went to Dorothy’s Restaurant, home of the best burgers and milkshakes in Bermuda [I’m still working on that vegetarian thing, don’t judge me.] I sat down, ordered my burger and on the bench sitting next to me was a gentleman I did not know, who introduced himself as Khamisi Tokunbo. He was the Director of Public Prosecutions - the local equivalent of the United States District Attorney. 183

He looked at me and said, “Aren’t you one of the Caines twins? Didn’t one of you boys just finish law school?” I said, “Yes, it was me.” He asked where I was working and I told him I wasn’t working in the field of law at present — I was an orderly in a Rest Home. He said, “We have a Crown Counsel’s post - Assistant D.A. - and if you’re interested send me your resume and come up and chat with me. I took my resume to Mr. Tokunbo that very same day. Two weeks later I was hired as a Crown Counsel in the Bermuda Department of Public Prosecution. I worked with a talented group of young Bermudians there. I had to do my pupillage for a year, which was required before I could be formally Called to the Bar. The Bar Council rules mandated that I work with a senior lawyer who would guide me in the practice of Criminal Law and ensure that by the end of the year, I was a fit and proper person to be Called to the Bar. My Pupil Master was Dorian Taylor. He was a phenomenal lawyer who was employed in Bermuda on contract with the Department of Public Prosecutions from Barbados. He taught me the practices and nuances of law. He showed me things that could never be learned in law school. He showed me how to prepare a witness, handle a difficult judge, and how to shut down overly aggressive defense counsel. Mr. Taylor taught me how to cross-examine a witness, and the art of delivering an effective closing argument. I sat with him through trial after trial. I learned the tricks of the proverbial trade by watching and observing him. Just before the end of the year when I was to about be Called to the Bar, Mr. Taylor suffered an aneurysm and subsequently passed away. It was a devastating blow to me as Mr. Taylor was my friend. I was besotted with grief. It was difficult both personally and professionally. Shortly thereafter I was mentored by Crown Counsel, Juan Wolfe. He was only about five years older than me but he was hard on me and held me accountable. He kept my feet 184

to the furnace and made sure I lived up to a higher standard. I am forever grateful to him. Juan had a crazy work ethic; he would be in the office at 7:00 a.m. every day, he would leave at about 7:00 p.m. every night. He would put in Herculean hours, he would prepare each case meticulously and he would never leave any stone unturned. Juan had a good balance of being my brother but never letting me forget he was my Boss. Juan would sit through my trials in the Magistrates’ Court and would provide me with positive tips and helpful critiques when I returned to the office. There was a changing of the guard in the DPP’s office. There was a new boss and she had a few new rules. One of the new rules was that a Crown Counsel could only have sole conductor of a trial in the Supreme Court if he or she had five years’ experience as a Crown Counsel. I disagreed strongly with the new policy. I had sat as second chair in many criminal cases and I felt qualified to be in the Supreme Court on my own. I had conducted several complex trials in the Magistrates’ Court. I was the Head of the Drug Court Prosecutions team. I was incensed that I would not be in the Supreme Court getting all “You want the truth? You can’t handle the truth!” on people. I felt this was yet another stumbling block that was being placed in my path. I had such a big chip, no a boulder, on my shoulder. There were some senior lawyers in our office that felt I wanted too much too fast; that I didn’t want to put in the time in the lower courts. It was also felt that I was too Hollywood and needed to be more grounded in the law. I felt stifled and surrounded by haters. I felt that the five year wait being imposed on me was unreasonable and counterproductive. I watched as defense lawyers with only two or three years under their belts competently conduct trials in the Supreme Court. I wanted to do more than deal with minor traffic cases in the Magistrate’s court. I felt as if I was wasting my professional career on small, insignificant matters. In addition to the professional constraints, 185

my salary was not in keeping with the cost of living in Bermuda so I was still facing the financial burden I had experienced as a student. My wife and I were both lawyers; we were both repaying law school loans, and a host of other expenses. We were barely making ends meet. We were forced to depend on my parents and my wife’s parents to help make it from month to month. It didn’t make sense to me. I was frustrated and angry. In my private moments I would cry and wonder, “When will I get the opportunity to provide for my family, reach my full potential and have the opportunity to show the world what I can do?” I wanted a big trial, I wanted to prove myself and I desperately needed the increase in salary so I could better provide for my family. I was very conflicted as a prosecutor; I was from a working class family, I was raised to be a man of the people and for the people. I knew that as a prosecutor I was performing a noble and necessary role, but it was not always easy. I took my job very seriously. I conducted my duties as a prosecutor without fear or favor. I ruffled many a feather during my time as a prosecutor. On many occasions, I was forced to go for the jugular if the circumstances warranted. I would ask for maximum penalties which included long periods of incarceration for convicted persons. Many times my role as a prosecutor put me at odds with people in my community. On several occasions when I was out socially I would have uncomfortable interactions with people I had prosecuted or with the family of people that I had prosecuted. Bermuda is a very small country and working as a prosecutor is exceedingly difficult. By my nature, I was a healer I wanted to do many community-related projects. I wanted to be much more active in bringing my community together. As a prosecutor I couldn’t do it. I was becoming estranged from the practice of law. I still loved the law but it was shackling and socially frustrating me 186

because it separating me from a community that I was called to lead. I made up my mind to leave the DPP’s office but I still wanted to go to the Supreme Court. After I conducted my first trial in the Supreme Court I realized I was not as ready as I thought I was. My first trial in the Supreme Court was a Wounding with Intent case. I appeared opposite Victoria Pearman, who is a brilliant lawyer, and although she has this “I am just a country lawyer routine”, she disarms a jury. But Vicky is as sharp as a three sided machete and not one to be trifled with. I remember my closing argument; there were seven women on the jury so I decided to use baking a gingerbread analogy in my closing. I made reference to the elements of the Crown’s case being like ingredients in making gingerbread. Vicky rose for her closing arguments. She started by saying: “I might not know much about law, but I know how to make gingerbread. Did you hear the prosecutor mention yeast? Did he mention a little vanilla? Well the gingerbread is just like his case, missing a few key elements. No yeast, that cake won’t rise, no vanilla, that cake won’t have the right taste.” The female members of the jury busted out laughing and nodded in agreement with the defense counsel. I was horrified. My first trial seemed as if it would be a disaster. Soon thereafter the jury left the room and deliberated for four hours. When the jury returned to the room the judge read the verdict, the defendant was found guilty and convicted on all counts. I look back on my six years in the DPP’s office and I can now chronicle significant professional and personal growth in my life during that time. I can also now see that there was merit in the Director of Prosecutions ensuring that Crown Counsel received the requisite training and mentorship prior to appearing in the Supreme Court. I was again forced to learn valuable lessons as a result of a challenge in my life. I was impatient and wanted everything right away. I still was allowing my circumstances to 187

define me and control my actions. During my time at DPP’s office I learned that I must find contentment and balance in my personal life. I also learned that when faced with professional challenges I had to know my strengths and weaknesses and develop a plan to accentuate and develop my strengths and minimize and work on my weaknesses.

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CHAPTER TWENTY ONE Here Comes the Chief (Wayne M. Caines) The year was 2006, my six-year career in the government sector from the outside might have appeared to be blossoming and boundless, yet inside my mind and emotions were contorting in increasingly uneasy fashion. Rather than boundless there were restraints consistent with the DPP office that demanded release, and I had reached a crossroad as to where escape lie. At the time the DPP held their (and thus my) office in the heart of Hamilton on the second floor of Cumberland House and neighbored the Department of Tourism. This was not initially significant to me, but one day would create for a momentous bursting into the high powered political arena …for within my rival department I would find a fast friend, one headed toward the pinnacle of power, one whose coattail I’d ride to this zenith, for my new found alliance had a name – an often still polarizing name - Dr. Ewart Brown, the, then, Minister of Tourism and Transport. I frequently saw Dr. Brown going in and out of the building. One day I motioned to him and told him that if he ever needed any assistance with anything relating to his political campaign, I would be happy to help. I mentioned my Bachelor’s degree in history and political science as well as a law degree and I always wanted to get involved in politics. About two weeks later, I received a call to come

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to his office for a meeting. At the meeting Dr. Brown informed me that he was preparing a campaign to run for the post of Premier of Bermuda, which is the equivalent of the President in the U.S. or the Prime Minister in the U.K. Dr. Brown asked me if I was interested in joining his campaign, and he went on to say that he would love to have me on his team. I was elated that such a powerful and prominent man thought enough of me to want me on his team. Dr. Brown and the team met for several weeks night and day and put together a phenomenal campaign. Dr. Brown was a Medical Doctor who lived and practiced medicine in California for over 30 years before he decided to return home. Dr. Brown was a Member of Parliament for several years prior to running for Progressive Labour Party Leadership; the Leader of the Ruling political party also becomes the Premier of the Country. On October 27, 2006, Dr. Brown was victoriously elected as the leader of the Progressive Labour Party and was elevated to the role as the Premier of Bermuda. I was excited about his win and eagerly anticipated his leadership. He had a lot of progressive ideas that he shared with us and I was so excited for him. He thanked everyone during his victory speech and we all went home to resume our normal lives. On Saturday morning I went to Church as usual and had not given much more thought to the election. Then I received an unexpected call from the Premier who said: “Wayne, I need a chief of staff, would you be interested in that position?” I was shocked. He then added: “I also want to appoint you to the Senate.” I said, “Appoint me to the Senate, Sir, are you serious?” He said: “Yes, I think you have a lot to offer. I was impressed with the way you carried yourself during my campaign and I want to have you as my chief of staff. I want you to be the Junior Minister responsible for transport, tourism, and for youth and sport.” This was a tremendous responsibility and I asked him if it was a full-time position because if it was I would not be able to continue my job as a prosecutor. He said it was full time. So I asked him when the position would begin. He said: “Wayne, you have to give up your job today. You have to walk away today.” It was overwhelming; everything was happening so fast. The Premier of Bermuda offered me a monumental opportunity and 192

I didn’t have a long time to think about it. I had to decide whether I would leave my post as prosecutor in one day. I told him before I gave him an answer I wanted to talk to my pastor. My wife and I prayed about it and she agreed that I should consult with our pastor. I went to my pastor, Kenneth Manders, at his home and we walked through the pros and cons systematically. After a lengthy discussion, my pastor prayed over me and told me I had to do what I felt God was leading me to do. I left feeling that it was the right thing to do; that it was time for me to move to a new level of leadership. I immediately called the Premier and with humility and gratitude I told him I would accept the post as Chief of Staff and Senator in his administration. From that point, everything started happening very quickly. The next day we went to the Governor’s mansion and were sworn in. I was also appointed Justice of the Peace that same day. Directly after that, the press started to bombard me for statements asking what I planned to do. I was the youngest person ever to be appointed Chief of Staff. I had no prior training as a higher-ranking politician but I settled into it immediately. I remember walking in the house and my wife saying, “Hi, Wayne” or something to that effect, and I said, “It is not Wayne, it is Senator Caines”. She looked at me and shook her head. My pompous behavior began the first day after my installment to political office. She would ask what I wanted for dinner and I would say, “The Chief of Staff will have …” Monday morning was the day the trash went out for collection. That morning my wife addressed me as “Senator Caines” and my ears perked up; I thought how nice she was acknowledging my importance and status. Then she told me to take the trash out. I was immediately reminded that even though I was a bigtime politician, it in no way negated my responsibilities as a husband and father. When I went to Church and the pastor called me to the front and my entire Church family prayed for me, I was reminded of my purpose and the things I should do to make my community and my country a better place. On my first day, the Premier set out what he wanted me to do. We organized our schedules and what would take place on a daily basis. Dr. Brown was the most intense man I have ever met. He would commence 193

working well before 5:00 a.m. He would send e-mail communique at any hour. He would go to the gym three times per week. He adhered to a strict diet and did not eat between meals. He was very disciplined. The Premier did not suffer fools; he would not ever accept low or subpar performance. In our first meeting, the Premier told me I had to tone down my dress. All he told me was “the flashy-coloured shirts” were now a thing of the past. He informed me that I had to represent all the people of Bermuda and that I would have to be mindful of that fact in every element of my life. I worked with a small team, Shahidah Rahmin, Personal Assistant, Scott Simmons, Press Secretary, Beverly Pitt, Protocol Officer and Verna-Lee Ramsey, Administrative Officer. I knew from the lead-up to the election that Premier had a clear and documented political agenda. We knew that he had a few key things that he wanted to accomplish during his term in office and would always say to our team. “Ignore the drama and execute the agenda.” It was an enormous opportunity for me to grow as a professional. It was a fast-paced environment. One week after the Premier was sworn in he graced the halls of Buckingham Palace and met with her majesty the Queen Elizabeth II. We had to meet with all the Bermudian students who were attending school in London, and the Premier asked me to be the keynote speaker at the banquet. I had to prepare a speech for all the Bermudian students. It was an amazing responsibility placed on my shoulders. Dr. Brown was as tough as nails; he was shrewd, brilliant and a political genius. I sat in hundreds of meetings with him. I watched him negotiate with leading Congressmen in the U.S. I saw him go toe-to-toe with some of the greatest Prime Ministers at the Caribbean Heads of State Conference. I often watched in awe as he tamed the most hostile of crowds at Alaska Hall (PLP Party Headquarters). I learned how to be a strong leader from watching him. Dr. Brown showed me how to be unafraid. He once said to me “Caines, you can’t be scared all your life, at the appropriate time you have to be willing to unleash the beast.” But he said: “There are consequences for unleashing the beast, and you have to be prepared and willing to accept the consequences of your actions.” I had to mature really fast politically. I had a huge responsibility 194

running the affairs for the Premier of the Country. The Premier always had a myriad of meetings both day and night. Our Political agenda saw several meetings per day, along with meetings and political and social functions at night. I had to coordinate meetings with Cabinet, Members of Parliament, party faithful and constituents. I was always going full throttle. In tandem with my role as the Chief of Staff, I was also a Senator and Junior Minister for Tourism, Transport, Youth and Sport and the Environment. My responsibilities as a Junior Minister were also very intense. Life in the Senate was a very interesting thing. Lt Colonel David Burch was the Government Leader in the Senate, he was also a no nonsense leader. The Colonel would meet with us prior to our Senate Meetings on Wednesdays to discuss pending legislation and to discuss our strategy. We always had a plan on how we would tackle the issue of the day and how we would respond to the Opposition party’s comments. I remember going through pieces of legislation with opposing Senators while sitting in Parliament, and even though we were sometimes at odds we still had a collaborative relationship as we were all focused on a common goal. I was thrust into the limelight of politics and it was a difficult existence at times. Dr. Brown was loved by many but he was also disliked by many, such is the nature of politics. I had to develop thick skin as people publicly criticized my boss. During the thickest and most difficult of circumstances Dr. Brown would again simply say “Ignore the drama, executive the objective.” I admired how he was able to keep his calm and composure during challenging times. Even though I love my country, I came to realize I did not like the rancor and cantankerous nature of politics. It was a difficult environment for me to work in. No matter what you did you were polarized by a certain section of the country. The population is very party-oriented as opposed to issue-oriented. You could have a good motion on the table or a good ideology that you want to promulgate but if it came from an opposing party it was given very little credence. Within fifteen months of Dr. Brown’s elevation to Party leader and Premier, we were directly preparing for a General Election, and every Member of Parliament would have to be re-elected. I was bold enough 195

to say publicly that I wanted to challenge one of my Party’s sitting Members of Parliament in Constituency 21; it was the Constituency that my family grew up in. It was in the heart of what we would call “The Hood”. I believed I could change people’s lives there and turn things around in that neighborhood. I didn’t realize I had broken a cardinal rule by challenging a fellow member of my party who was already the sitting MP (Member of Parliament) in Constituency 21. I now know and realize that my actions were not prudent, I should have never declared intent in such a manner. My decree of intent caused quite an uproar within the party and that definitely was not my intention because I wanted the party’s objectives to be met. In order to run for Constituency 21, I had to be selected by PLP party selection committee and the PLP Constituency 21 Branch members then had to decide who would represent their branch in the General Election. On the night of branch elections, I remember arriving at Alaska Hall and there were only about twenty people present for the branch election process. I felt then as I feel today that it is undemocratic to have such a small number of people make such an important decision that affects the lives of so many people. After the primary results, I was not chosen. I did not even get four votes. I left the room feeling dejected because the sitting Member of Parliament was chosen over me. I had placed my head on the chopping block; I felt I had committed political suicide. I challenged a sitting Member of Parliament and I lost. I was undeterred; I was so focused on making a change in Bermuda. I wanted a better education system, I wanted to close the widening gap between the haves and the have-nots. I refused to give up. Six months prior to the election there was an interesting development. The candidate that was selected to run in Constituency 7 was not able to run in the election due to a change in his personal circumstances. I was asked to fill the breach. I was selected to run in Constituency 7. I was later informed that no member of my party had ever won in that district, but I was undeterred and was fully confident that I would reverse history. I pushed and campaigned rigorously; I knocked on doors, and met with hundreds of my constituents. My campaign was financed by my family and friends. We conducted and executed a well thought through plan. 196

My opponent (now a good friend) had not been as thorough with his campaign, nor was he as well known. I had flyers made, I had my face put on chocolates, I spoke at town hall meetings, I was determined to win and become an effective leader in the community. Not everyone was receptive to my campaign; it was a hard slog. Many homes that I visited were not very hospitable - they did not like me or the PLP but I was undaunted. During my campaign for Constituency 7, I still had a massive weight on my shoulders with all my Chief of Staff duties. I had to travel to Uganda, to Tanzania, to the Bahamas, and the United States to speak on behalf of the Premier and Bermudian government. It was a colossal responsibility and I loved it; I savored every minute of it. I was under close scrutiny and everything I said or did was in the public eye. So I had to always maintain a level of tactfulness, diplomacy and integrity. For many years I had prepared for a time when I could take up my rightful place in Bermuda. It seemed as if all the stars were finally aligning, I was finding my place in the world of politics. People would say I was poised to be the first Premier of an Independent Bermuda [independent of Great Britain]. I remember the day of the General Election; I was so excited and nervous at the same time. My wife and I drove to the polling station to meet and greet the voters as they entered to cast their ballot. It was an intense environment. Both political parties had polite yet distant interaction all day. The polls closed at 8:00 p.m. I remember returning to our Branch Headquarters at the Hamilton Parish Workman’s Club and falling asleep prior to the results coming in. I lay on the ground with a trench coat covering me. I remember Dwayne waking me up and I could see a look of deep sorrow and concern etched on his face. I asked him if I had won and he said “no”. He informed me that I had lost by 107 votes (which was an exceedingly small margin.) Dwayne told me that I had “almost won”. But in this case, almost would not cut it. I was devastated and broke down in tears. I was distraught. My entire family and all of my friends were present and they formed a circle and cried and prayed with me. That circle was so powerful and now that I look back on it, it was a pivotal and significant night in my life. I was sad because I felt as if I had let the team down, my life was again in 197

limbo. Even though my party, the PLP, romped to an election victory, I was mindful that my role as both Senator and my role as Chief of Staff were appointed posts and I served at the pleasure of the Premier. There was no job security. I had failed in my attempt to get elected to Parliament and I was not sure if the Premier would keep me on.

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CHAPTER TWENTY TWO Chief Executive Officer/Order My Steps (Wayne M. Caines)

As I moved along in my tri-fold role as Senator, Junior Minister and Chief of Staff to the Premier, it became increasingly challenging for me to properly fulfill the last listed aspect until finally the Premier and I mutually agreed that it was best for me to transition away from the Chief of Staff posting. This was not an acrimonious or discordant departure, the opportunity had just run its course and it was time for me to move on. It was difficult because I loved the job, and I had become fond of my colleagues. However, I recognized it was time for me to evolve in another direction and chart an alternative course. Interestingly, I still maintained my Senate appointment with responsibility for transport, tourism, youth and sport. In the Senate I had a huge portfolio and was still deeply committed to public issues, though I was becoming somewhat estranged from the political process itself due to its partisan nature. I was well aware from the beginning what I was getting involved in but I wanted to effect positive change in my community. I found myself becoming jaded with the world of politics, largely because I was unable to accomplish all the things I desired to do for my country. I started to 201

feel disconnected from a number of alliances within my party for whom I had a great deal of respect and many things in common. In addition to the challenges and difficulties I encountered during my tenure as Chief of Staff, there were also positive life-affirming experiences. The year before I concluded my term, I was privileged to go to Uganda. The Premier was to speak at an International Institute of Peace Through Tourism conference (IIPT) in Kampala Uganda, but at the last minute he was unable to attend and I was asked to go and speak on his behalf. I had never been to the continent of Africa before. I was met at the airport with what can only be described as a hero’s welcome. The President of Uganda rolled out the red carpet. I’m sure they were disappointed that the Premier could not attend but they seemed very pleased to receive me, the stunt double. I was met by dignitaries at the airport and escorted to the hall where the President and Chief Ministers of Uganda were present. There were dignitaries from all over Africa and the United States at the Conference. It was a think-tank of sorts, formed for the purpose of using tourism as a means of achieving peace and a sense of hope for some of the war-torn regions of Africa. I was the keynote speaker for the conference. It was a significant honor but I felt overwhelmed by the pressure. There were several Heads of State from several African Nations present in the audience. Prior to my arrival in Africa, I practiced my speech for almost the entire 15-hour flight. The good news is that my speech went over really well. President Yoweri Museveni, was very complimentary and asked me to sit next to him at the head table at the State Dinner later that evening. Right on the heels of my keynote speech, the organizing committee asked me to speak at the youth wing of the IIPT. The youth wing had several hundred of Africa’s brightest young people present and eager to learn how to make their respective .

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counties stronger and more economically viable. After I spoke, we conducted a question-and-answer session. The young people asked me questions for over two hours. While in Uganda I felt a true sense of purpose. I went into some of the villages and met with people who had a burning desire to make their lives better. I was well received and felt a kinship with the Ugandan people. I saw my life’s calling and that was to be a voice for the voiceless, a representative for the people — even on the continent of Africa. I was deeply and profoundly changed as a result of my visit to Uganda. At the end of the conference, one of the people in the audience said they were having another conference the following year in Tanzania and asked if I would be one of the featured speakers. I graciously accepted the invitation. The following year I did, in fact, go and speak to the people of Tanzania. It was a humbling experience. I interacted with the people; I saw the level of poverty they were faced with, yet I saw the hope for change in their eyes. I saw their eagerness for something better. I realized my true calling was to get involved so that people would have the opportunity for a better way of life. Whilst in Tanzania, I started to see my life in a global context. I could not understand how petty politics had become in my island life. I felt that was not living up to the high ideals that I set for myself prior to entering politics. I saw myself meandering and losing sight of what really mattered. I wanted to change lives, I did not feel I was making significant change in politics. Leaving the political arena would have left a financial void in my family. I knew that my Senator’s salary and my wife’s salary alone would not be enough for us to live the lifestyle to which we had grown accustomed (I was no longer employed as Chief of Staff, I had given up a salary of just over $100,000 per year). I thought about all the prestige I would be walking away from if I left politics. I would lose all of the influence to 203

make things happen in my community. There were quite a few things that I loved to do that made it difficult for me to just walk away. I questioned and doubted the tugging I was feeling in my spirit prodding me to leave politics, because logic and financial situation were telling me I shouldn’t walk away. I asked God to show me a clear unimpeachable way. I was serious, I wanted a Moses “burning bush” kind of sign. While sitting in the airport on my way back to Bermuda from Tanzania, I had my iPod on and for some reason it was stuck on one gospel song — Order My Steps. I started banging on the iPod but it was stuck on Order my Steps and wouldn’t play anything else. After I boarded the plane, I fell asleep after several hours of that song playing over and over. I had a layover in Amsterdam and then eventually made it back home to Bermuda. The next day there was a memorial service for a former leader of the Progressive Labour Party, who also was the first black female lawyer in Bermuda, Dame Lois Browne Evans. The memorial was being held in her honor a year after her death. The service was on a Sunday and even though I felt tired from my long flight, there was no way in the world that I would miss the memorial service for one of my political heroes and one of the greatest leaders in my country’s history. The service was held at the Immanuel Baptist church and a choir got up to sing and they sang “Order My Steps”. I sat there in amazement as I knew that was the sign that I asked for. Immediately after the service I went to the Premier and told him I was leaving politics, resigning from the Senate, relinquishing my roles as the Junior Minister of Tourism, Sport, Transport and Youth and Sport. He was stunned and asked me if I was sure, I told him I was indeed sure. The next day it was front page news. A barrage of people called asking what I was going to do. I didn’t know. I had no job. I remember sitting at home, unemployed but content, happy and secure in the notion that I had made a decision that was unpopular and against the 204

grain but it was the right decision for me and my family. Unlike the other occasions I did not implode - I did not question God. I knew he was with me and I knew he would provide another opportunity for me. During this time my grandfather passed away in Jamaica. While in Jamaica for the funeral, I went to a store to buy sunglasses because I had left my Raybans on the airplane. Whilst in the store I tried on a pair and asked my brothers how I looked, and they were clowning around and would not give their honest opinion. So I saw a random gentleman and went over and asked his name. He said his name was, Gawaine Forbes. I asked his opinion about how the sunglasses looked on me. He said they looked cool. So we continued to chat. I asked where he was from, he said he was from Jamaica and I told him I was from Bermuda. Interestingly, he was also a lawyer and he marveled when I told him I was a lawyer too. As our chat continued, I asked him what he did for a living, and he said he worked for Digicel. I told him I had heard of Digicel, it’s the leading telecommunications company in the Caribbean. He asked where I worked, I told him I was a Senator with the Bermuda Government but I was between opportunities at that moment. So I gave him my card and said if anything comes up give me a call. I didn’t think any more of it. We proceeded with my grandfather’s funeral and returned to Bermuda after his burial. A few weeks later, I received a call from Gawaine telling me that Digicel was looking for a CEO in Bermuda. He asked me to keep my eye out for the advertisement in the newspaper. He asked me to send him my resume and said he would give my name to the Digicel Group Human Resources Director. I asked around Bermuda and found out that there were several very qualified telecommunications professionals who were interested in the CEO role. I sent my CV and Cover Letter to Gawaine. Meanwhile, I started researching and learning everything I could learn about Digicel. I learned about the board, 205

the chairman, the products, the services, I researched each of the persons who would be on the interview panel. A week before the interview, I put together a mock interview panel comprised of friends and colleagues in law and telecommunications, and we rehearsed and practiced every possible interview scenario. My first interview with Digicel was postponed for two weeks because the Human Resources Director had a death in the family. By the time I interviewed, over seventeen other people had applied. They asked me a series of very difficult questions in the interview. About a week later I received a call from the HR director who informed me that I had been selected for the position of CEO and that I had to fly to Jamaica for a confirmation interview and salary negotiations. I sat in HR Director’s office totally overwhelmed! I could not believe that I was going to be the CEO of a multimillion dollar telecommunications company. Me of all people… the scruffy, nappy-headed boy with dyslexia from the Back of Town in Bermuda. I was grateful and so emotional. After the interview the HR director gave me a few private moments and I ran to the bathroom and shut the door. I started repeating “Thank You, Jesus” over and over with tears streaming down my face. I know that my steps are ordered.

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CHAPTER TWENTY THREE New Life, New Reality (Dwayne A. Caines) Being young is a very interesting time in one’s life because you are always trying to fit in; to be peer-relevant and matter to someone in the big scheme of things. Youthful exuberance can be constructively beneficial, but it can also be severely debilitating, I’ve experienced both sides of this tenuous coin. Every young person seems to have something or someone that occupied much of their time, as most want to feel validated and loved and it was with great resolve and purpose in 1986, I started seeing a young starlet named, Shervelle. We dated for what seemed like an eternity, her becoming a significant part of my family and I of hers. We were always together. Our relationship was unique in that we had a bond of friendship prior to becoming boyfriend and girlfriend. We attended the same church, we were in the same class in high school and our families were very close. So we seemed to be a natural fit. We had grown up together, fallen in love and had what by all accounts would be a storybook romance. We traveled all over Bermuda together on my motorcycle because that was the standard mode of transportation for teenagers. When she was eighteen she got a car and we were able to truly enjoy Bermuda 209

in the company of one another. When it was time to go to college, both sets of parents recognized that it was not a good idea for us to go to the same college because we were so woven together. They feared we would not focus on our studies but rather on each other. So my parents told me I had to go to Atlantic Union College (AUC) in Massachusetts, an hour outside of Boston. I didn’t want to go to AUC because my brother and other friends were going to Oakwood College in Huntsville, Alabama and I wanted to be near them. I did not believe that AUC was the right school for me but I reluctantly accepted my lot. Dr. Alma Foggo-York, a Bermudian who was a recruiter for Oakwood College at that time, implored my parents to send me to Oakwood. It was her belief that Wayne and I should not be separated and that Oakwood had something special in store for both Wayne and me. Dr. York was so convinced that Oakwood would be the school for me that she came to my house and assured my parents she would keep both of us on the straight and narrow academic path, and that we would make our parents proud. My parents were apprehensive but they finally reluctantly agreed, and we were off to Oakwood. Oakwood was an exciting new experience and, as expected, where you saw me, you inevitably saw Shervelle. We were inseparable. Our college experience was unique because generally new college students begin their academic tenure making new acquaintances and seeking new friendships. However, Shervelle and I were indivisible and sought very few new serious friendships outside of one another. Our relationship was reciprocal; we did kind things for each other and shared just about everything. As you might expect with that level of closeness and commitment, inevitably, we became intimate. I vividly remember that day in February when Shervelle came to me and said there was something she needed to tell me. She said she thought she was pregnant. 210

For two college kids those are words that can take the wind out of you. I remember my knees buckling, my speech becoming slurred and I broke out in a cold sweat. I suggested that maybe her cycle was thrown off as a result of her irregular eating and exercise habits; maybe it was the cafeteria food, anything! I was grasping for straws, but she was adamant in her belief that she was pregnant. We said “What are we going to do?” What made this situation particularly frightening and troubling was the fact that Oakwood College was a stringent Christian university and if a young man and woman were found to have violated their code of moral conduct by means of a relationship resulting in pregnancy, both were expelled from school. It was an embarrassingly devastating situation for the male and the female. But beyond the embarrassment of theoretically bringing shame on your entire family in addition to yourselves, was the prospect of being forced to leave the school. Our very reason for being in the United States was to attend school. So our number one goal became getting through the school year without anyone finding out. The first few months were easy but as time progressed she started to experience morning sickness. We began a dangerous game of concealment. It got to the point where we just would not go anywhere for fear that someone would notice the change in our behavior and an anatomical change in Shervelle’s body. When it got to the point where we could no longer hide it, Shervelle started spending practically every minute in her dorm room. I remember sneaking food out of the cafeteria and taking it to her to be sure she was nourished and sustained. We were torn; I was guilty and ashamed for letting my family down, but even more so, I was disappointed in both of us for allowing this to happen. We were college students, we had no money, no resources. We should have known better. I had just recently received an award 211

in Bermuda as the “Most Religious Youth of the Year”. So you can imagine the burden I had on my heart as a young man about to become a teen father. I knew I was putting myself in a position to be one of those young men I thought I’d never be, which was a young unwed teen father. I also came from generations of men on both sides of my family who were responsible “married men” when they had their children so I was carrying the burden of letting down the “family name”. In addition to the encumbrance on my life, Shervelle was also going through her own difficulties; the morning sickness, hormonal fluctuations, but there was also a greater concern, and that was we were not getting prenatal care for her. Prenatal care is of the utmost importance for an expectant mother and for the unborn child. School let out the third week in May and we still had no plan. We stayed on campus an extra week trying to devise a plan as to how we were going to break the news to our parents. We had no idea what to do; we had no strategy. We were like deer caught in headlights hoping something miraculous would take place the next day. It did not. However, we jumped on a plane and headed back home to Bermuda. Coming home as a college student from your first year of college is usually an exciting time filled with adventurous escapades. My friends were partying, working hard and enjoying the beach, sun and sand, just having a blast. I could not. Everyone at home was happy to see me, however, I was not myself. I felt like I had the world on my shoulders. I was already skinny; I lost even more weight not eating and worrying. Shervelle was going through the very same emotions but it was worse for her, she still had to hide the fact that she was pregnant from her mother. Looking back, that was such a burden for anyone to have to carry. The interesting thing was, she did such a good job concealing her pregnancy. Her family and friends at that point assumed she 212

had just put on weight; the typical freshman fifteen or in this case - thirty. We decided after being back for a few days it was time to tell her parents. We planned to tell my parents after she told hers. However, someone beat us to it. A nosy person contacted my mother and told her that they heard it through the “grapevine” that Shervelle was pregnant. My mother then called Shervelle’s mother to inform her of what she had heard. The cat was now out of the bag. Shervelle now officially broke the news to her parents. As expected, her parents were very disappointed because they felt she had jeopardized her opportunity to change the trajectory of her life through education and they believed that opportunity had now slipped away. Her mom in particular, was working two jobs night and day to pay for Shervelle’s college so she was understandably hurt. Shervelle called and let me know that she told her parents; it was now time for me to have the conversation with my parents. I sat my parents down in the living room and said, “Mom and Dad what you heard is true. Shervelle is really pregnant.” They interestingly enough did not seem as shocked as I thought they would be. It is almost like they in their hearts knew this would be the outcome. My parents were justifiably angry and disappointed because they saw my future slipping away. They expected more from me … more from us. My father, being a practical man, was angered because he felt with all of the birth control options available why did we not use any? Our families were no strangers to each other so a meeting was called to discuss the latest developments. I was unsure how this meeting would go because tensions and emotions were so high. It was time for me to “man up” and to face the proverbial music. Both families sat down and both Shervelle and I apologized to our parents for disappointing them. We then expressed our commitment to giving our all to our new role as parents. Our parents were disappointed, however, in the meeting everyone stated that they would do 213

whatever it took to be sure we got the support we needed to be the parents we needed to be. Shervelle’s mother gave me a hug, my mom and dad gave Shervelle a hug. My mother said something I will never forget: “God has never turned his back on us, and we will never turn our back on you”. The first week in June 1989, we set up doctor visits to get her the prenatal care she needed. By then she was quite visibly showing, so you can imagine the shock and surprise on the faces of our fellow church members when we showed up. We were the talk of the town. The young people who were supposed to be leading by example had become the ones carrying out the stereotypical “young and pregnant stigma”. We decided not to go out much until the baby was born; we wanted to focus on the health of our child as this would be a new reality. On July 18th 1989, I remember getting a call that Shervelle’s water had broken. I was confused and dazed. I jumped on my motorcycle and raced down to the King Edward VII Memorial Hospital. I remember walking through a maze into the delivery room and seeing Shervelle’s legs in the stirrups. I remember the exact moment I saw the head of my precious little girl. It was a moment that changed the direction of my whole life. On Tuesday July 18th, Deshay Tyeisha Caines entered this world, six pounds, two ounces, full head of hair and nineteen inches long. The moment I saw Deshay, every ounce of guilt and shame I had felt the previous year vanished in the light of her beautiful innocent face. She radiated a light of hope and purpose in my life that I had never felt before. I now had someone that depended on me for everything; someone that I could love unconditionally and I was truly a proud dad. She transformed all of our lives. Shay (as she is affectionately called by family) became the apple of her grandparents’ eye. I was mesmerized how this little girl melted the hearts of my mother and dad. She had them wrapped around her 214

little finger. These two strict disciplinarians became her biggest supporters. I was taken aback by how soft and loving they were. I secretly wondered who these strangers were. Were they the same people who raised me? Certainly not! Then I remembered a joke I heard: Why do grandchildren and grandparents get along so well? They have a common enemy. Deshay gave Shervelle and I purpose and focus. I knew my life would never be the same. Every step from that point was guided by the thought that I had a child I was responsible for. Shervelle had to withdraw from school to nurture our child and I returned to college in Huntsville. My parents agreed to help me financially through school so that I could be placed in a position to provide for my child. They were very clear that they were not going to be surrogate parents but grandparents who were only lending a helping hand until I finished my education. My brother, Travis and my sister, Shereen were also my strength. My brother, Travis, even though only thirteen at the time, represented me while I was away in school. He stepped up to be an uncle of standard. He made sure that in my absence there was nothing my daughter wanted for. He took her on walks, he spent time with her, and he kept a picture of me on hand at all times for Deshay to see so she never forgot what I looked like. He always ensured that if she was with him, he would “sneak” a long distance call for Deshay to speak to me. Travis bonded with Deshay in a special way and if she was spending the weekend at my mom and dad’s home, you can rest assured at some point she would be cuddled up somewhere with her Uncle Travis. My sister, Shereen had just finished university and she was home teaching at Prospect Primary. She poured into Deshay also; combing her hair, spending quality time with her, teaching her scriptures. My sister taught our 5-year-old Deshay “Psalms 91”. My sister ensured that Shervelle had an extra pair of hands at all times to assist with the role of raising our young lady. I should note, 215

Shervelle’s sister, Alicia, was also a tremendous asset and help. Shervelle’s mom, “Nana Russell”, was a gift to us as a grandmother along with Shervelle’s own Grandmother, Alice Muriel Burch. Our families came to our aid in ways that were unimaginable. We were blessed to have the support that we received. We could not have done it without that level of love and support from our family. Shervelle was a wonderful, loving mother to our daughter and raised her with such a high standard that to this day, I am honored to have her as my daughter’s mother. She provided our daughter with the love and discipline that is necessary to raise a well-balanced child. After about two years, Shervelle returned to Huntsville to resume her academic studies at a technical college where she pursued an associate’s degree. My daughter was also in Huntsville so I had the opportunity to be with her on a daily basis. Many of my friends and classmates became her surrogate family. She had a unique experience as a child because she spent a large portion of her early years on a college campus. She was able to be around dynamic people doing innovative and creative things. She had an opportunity to see the world from a prospective reserved usually for children much older than her. Though a bit precocious at times, Deshay developed a passion for life and a zest for new and different things because of her exposure to my and her mother’s college buddies. Shervelle went on to get her Bachelor’s and, ultimately, Master’s Degree. During that time, circumstances existed that unfortunately caused Shervelle and me to break up. It was one of the saddest points of my existence because I wanted my daughter to have both her parents in a committed relationship. However, our focus continued to be our daughter regardless of our personal circumstances and we both stayed true to our commitment to our daughter. There was a period of time when we lived in different parts 216

of the United States; they were in Alabama and for a time I was in New York and then back in Bermuda. Eventually as time passed, I married my wife, Roshanda, and had two more beautiful children. My desire was to unify my children under one roof. I wanted Deshay to have a full experience with her father and her sisters and be part of the texture of my home. I did not want to be a part time father. I understood that she was at a critical point in her teen life and needed the strong guidance of her father. I went to Shervelle and asked how she felt about Deshay coming to live with me. I’ll never forget that moment; she looked at me with tears in her eyes and said, “Dwayne, it’s the only thing for our daughter right now. I was raised without my father in the home and I want my daughter to experience something I never had.” And that was the constant support of her father. It was the greatest gift Shervelle could have given to me aside from my daughter’s birth. There was an immediate difference in my daughter. She went from being a ‘C’ student to improving her grades. It was not that her mother hadn’t provided a good environment for her before, it was the characterdeveloping agent of change. Oftentimes, teenagers yield more willingly to the authority of fathers than they do mothers. My daughter went to Bermuda Institute, secured two scholarships and continued on to Oakwood College. My brother, Wayne, was the commencement speaker at her graduation. You can imagine the moment when I walked into the Civic Center in Huntsville and saw my twin brother and my daughter walking down the aisle with her certificate in her hand, I felt an indescribable joy. I thank Shervelle for giving me the opportunity to be an intricate part of my daughter’s life. I thank my wife for being patient and understanding making the blending of our family a reality. We realized that we had to put our egos aside for the good of Deshay. It was uncomfortable at times but it 217

wasn’t about us. We, as adults, had to sheath our personal feelings and give Deshay what was necessary to make her a productive member of society. I have to thank my sister, my brothers, my parents and Shervelle’s family. We came together as a village to insure that we produced a loving, kind, respectful young lady. And that is precisely who she is. I think back to how awful I felt when I thought I had let my church down, let my parents down and torpedoed my future. But now I know that the crowning achievement of my life is my role as a father. I cannot imagine my life without my daughter. What I would say to young people who find themselves in the same situation I found myself in as a young unwed father, is that you can still achieve great things; your child can be an amazing blessing if you stay faithful, work hard, and believe. Having a child as a teen clearly is not the best option for a young person, however, you have to be committed to your child ensuring that he or she is, at all times, your number one priority. Everything else is secondary to the needs of your child. You must establish critical ways to make yourself better so that you are mentally, emotionally and financially in a position to provide for your child until they reach adulthood. A child is a major responsibility and should never come second to a job, a sport, any form of entertainment or any other individual. Our children did not ask to be here and they deserve the best of us at all times. As fathers, it is your responsibility to respect your child’s mother no matter what the circumstances. Your child will learn to respect womanhood and motherhood by how you treat their mother. This will result in a father at times having to put his feelings and emotions to the side to allow your child to thrive and flourish. Having a child as a teen, though certainly not ideal or even advised, is not a curse. If you find yourself in that position, it will require a maturity that can only come first from 218

God and second by surrounding yourself with mature adults who can give you sound advice and parental mentorship. I modeled my parenting styles and techniques by observing the people in my environment that I felt were managing parenting well. A seed watered, nurtured and fertilized can grow into a mighty strong oak despite the circumstances around it. Likewise, a child no matter the circumstances can grow into a well-balanced contributing member of society as long as they have the consistent support, stability, nurturing and guidance of those in their environment.

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CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR Life, Work and Motor City Madness (Dwayne A. Caines)

The lives of each and every one of us are uniquely special and especially unique. Mine has been a constant evolution filled with memorable twists and turns, periodic stagnation and positive personal growth movement. I graduated from Oakwood and immediately wanted to come back to my home country of Bermuda to independently perform, produce and take over. I believed I had worked extremely hard and made the appropriate connections that would start me on the next chapter of my life. Nevertheless, after being back for three months, I still had not secured full-time employment and was becoming increasingly frustrated and despondent. I could not understand why in a place where so many people seemed to be doing so well and enjoying the benefits of their home country I, as a son of the soil, could not find work; could not occupy my rightful place. I did not know it at that point in time, but my break came one evening at an open mike rally put on by a youth group called Progressive Youth. It was to discuss lowering the voting age in Bermuda to eighteen, which at that time it was twenty-one. This was a topic I was passionate about. I believed that if a young man could serve in the 221

military at eighteen to die for his country, he should be able to vote. I got up to the mike and articulated my point to the best of my ability. At the end of my comments, a gentleman by the name of Rick Richardson, the CEO of Bermuda Broadcasting Company, came to me and said, “I have been watching you for a while. I like your passion and how you carry yourself. I believe you would be a good addition to my company.” On the following Monday, I went to his office and he offered me a job in Marketing and Sales. This was not something that I was trained to do or even wanted to do but I recognized it gave me a critical foot in the door. While in the Marketing and Sales environment, I had an opportunity to learn the broadcast business from a unique perspective. I learned that the driving blood behind broadcasting — both radio and TV — is advertising because that is where the money is generated. It was a whirlwind educational process. I learned the “ins and outs” of the business, the players of the business and I had the opportunity to learn from some of the best role models at BBC. Everyone took a keen interest in my development — from the DJs to the production staff even the individuals in the finance department. They all ensured I had a phenomenal working experience and I was given all the tools necessary to learn and develop within this field. In retrospect, it was the most profound professional opportunity that I was given. One day I was having lunch and Rick Richardson approached me and asked if I would be interested in hosting a national televised talk show. Of course, I was nervous but I embraced the opportunity. It was a talk show that would cater to young people age 13-30, capturing a bird’s-eye view into their world. I became the host as well as the producer of “Youth Talk.” During my time as host, we tackled serious issues like drugs, race, violence and other topics such as road traffic fatalities, expectations in relationships and modern-day challenges facing young people. Also, during that time, doors began to open 222

in other areas. I was moved into the newsroom and became a reporter, which was one of my goals. What an awesome opportunity to cover stories, as this was a skill I was trained for and an area I was passionate about. During that time, I worked with a disciplined group of journalists who set very high standards, did not take short cuts and held me to a very high standard. Working in a deadline specific environment with strong personalities at a high octane pace was thrilling but I soon realized that life was pulling me in another direction. Every few years I ask myself a set of very important questions, “Have I outgrown my present circumstance? Am I still enjoying what I’m doing?” and “Do I see a future where I am?” It was at that point, in December of 1995, that I recognized I had to make some critical decisions. I had just finished the twoyear job at Bermuda Broadcasting Company. As rewarding as those experiences were, I had come to a point in my professional life where I wanted to do something very different. I explored the possibility of going back to school to pursue my Master’s Degree in Public Relations. I did not know where I wanted to go or what I wanted to do but I recognized that I was at an impasse in my professional career. I was no longer happy being a journalist because I knew the world had more to offer me. After being in the United States for such a long time, I experienced a reversion when I returned to Bermuda and the small room I occupied in my parents’ home. I felt like a caged bird; trapped and suffocating in a confined environment and I wanted to pursue life in the U.S. because I had grown accustomed to the North American lifestyle and, honestly, I had grown tired of Bermuda. So I had to find a way out. I thought the answer for me was to go away and embark on furthering my education in graduate school so I started exploring my options. While at Oakwood I met a lady by the name of Roshanda Clay, she was shy but beautiful and kind. She was passionate about the same things as me. We hit it off and 223

instantly we became a couple. After we both graduated with our Bachelor’s Degrees, I moved back to Bermuda and soon after she received a full-time position in Michigan in the Detroit Metropolitan area. Even though we were physically apart, we maintained a long distance relationship. After she settled into her new position, she was accepted into Oakland University in Rochester, Michigan to pursue her Master’s Degree in Counseling Psychology. She enjoyed living in Michigan and said I should consider coming to Detroit because there was a school called Wayne State University, that had a phenomenal Public Relations program and it sounded like a good option for me. We were in a long distance relationship so the thought of being with the woman I love and going to school seemed like a good idea. I could pursue my education and follow my heart at the same time, a “win, win”. So I scrimped and saved all my pennies and applied to Wayne State University, and was accepted. As I prepared for this new chapter in my life I realized I would have to do this on my own, my mother and father would not be subsidizing my education any longer. They had paid for all four of their children to get their undergraduate degrees, and made it very clear that if we wanted to pursue higher level degrees we would be on our own. They had done their part and I thought that was fair and equitable on their part. They were getting older and could not continue to finance their adult children’s education. I recognized very quickly that once I paid my tuition and first month’s rent I did not have much disposable income to live on. I could not live with Roshanda because she lived with her aunt and, besides that, it just wasn’t the right thing to do and if I am honest, Roshanda’s Aunt Karen was not having any of that. So I stayed on Wayne State’s campus with enough money for the first semester’s tuition and no money for anything else. I walked into Student Services one day feeling dejected not knowing how I was going to make it. I was hoping I 224

could perhaps find a job on campus. One of the first people I saw in the student services office was a gentleman named, Anthony. I introduced myself, told him I was a student from Bermuda, and that I was looking for a job. He asked what kind of job I was looking for, and I told him I would take anything — any kind of job. He asked if I had a place to stay; I told him I did not. As we were talking I glanced over on his desk and saw a little plaque with the words Alpha Phi Alpha on it, which was the fraternity I had pledged in 1992. After discovering that we were fraternity brothers, we exchanged the requisite fraternal greeting and he informed me that he had, ironically, just lost his roommate and that I could stay with him until I got on my feet. Moreover, he said he could also get me a job as a student advisor at one of our local high schools. You can imagine my joy. Once again, God had placed someone in my life to look after me and create an opportunity and a path for me. I was humbled by Anthony’s generosity. We headed to his apartment and I was expecting something small and modest. Instead, we drove up to one of the fanciest apartments I had ever seen. It was in a very small exclusive neighborhood called Indian Village. It was a very ritzy apartment overlooking the harbor. It was a gated community; there was a doorman, and a very strong security presence. My posh bedroom, the lavish furnishings and overall glitz and glamour of this apartment blew me away. It was like something out of the movies. The job that I was given as student advisor afforded me the opportunity to work at the local high schools helping students who were struggling with their grades and having trouble dealing with school in general. It was another opportunity for me to use my God-given ability to help these students in need. I also began spending more time with Roshanda. Being new to Detroit I did not know very many people independent of her. Her family became my family, her friends became my friends and I discovered 225

the inner-workings of Detroit through her community network of people. Roshanda’s Aunt Karen introduced me to a gentleman named, Darren. He was by all accounts a street hustler, not in the negative sense but he did anything to legally make money and survive. In Detroit they had a very big “shift community,” meaning first shift workers, second shift workers and third shift workers. People socialized by going to parties given by people on their respective shifts. Many worked at Ford or GM. First shifters would throw a party and everyone from first shift would go and it was the same with each individual shift. Darren was a picture man; he would set up these elaborate canvases around clubs and take pictures of party-goers with a Polaroid camera, airbrush them, put them in elaborate frames and sell them. Aside from the understandable culture-shock of being in Detroit, I remember being overwhelmed by the cold. Being an islander, my body was not accustomed to subzero temperatures. One day it was ten degrees below zero and I was traumatized. I remember shedding a tear that froze on my face. It was a critical time in my life, I had been taken out of my comfort zone but I was learning to survive. In Bermuda, I knew everybody and everybody knew me. I was not new to the United States having been in Huntsville, but Detroit was different. In Huntsville, I was in a safe and cocooned environment surrounded by people I knew and trusted. But no one knew me in Detroit; I had to create an entire new inner circle. Everyone previous to this knew that I was a twin and my whole identity was built around that reality. I did not recognize until that point how much I leaned on being a twin as a form of social comfort. In Detroit, for the first time in my life, people got to know me for me. I was able to build core friendships on the strength of who I was and ironically, for most of the time I was in Detroit I did not tell many people I was a twin. I simply managed my life as an independent adult. I had to stand on my own and in 226

that process I grew. I met a whole new set of individuals who helped me expand myself. I met a brand new church-family and had an opportunity to see life from a whole new perspective. Soon I realized I needed more, I started spending a great deal of time with Roshanda and decided this was the lady I would make my wife. But I had to do it creatively. So she accompanied me to Bermuda for the summer, and I came up with an extraordinary plan as to how I would propose. I took her to one of my favorite restaurants, called M.R. Onions, and we had a wonderful meal. I was nervous, my knees were shaking, my tongue was tied and she didn’t understand why I was so fidgety. Unbeknownst to her I had arranged a horse and carriage to pick us up as soon as we got out of the restaurant. I asked her if she wanted to go for a horse and carriage ride. She said, yes, so we jumped in and ended up at a place called Ascott’s, which is a restaurant with a beautiful lawn and a Poinciana tree that was in full bloom about thirty feet tall with beautiful flowers cascading down to the ground. The buggy pulled up under the canopy of the tree and stopped. I said: “Let’s get down and go for a walk.” She still had no idea; she just chuckled and commented that I was being very romantic that night. At that point, the buggy driver told me I forgot something and he pulled a ring from his pocket and gave it to me. I got down on one knee and proposed. She shed a tear and accepted my marriage proposal. All the patrons sitting on the porch of the restaurant applauded. In those days there were no cell phones so she went to a pay phone and called her family and friends to tell them we were engaged. We decided on a short engagement and planned to be married in her hometown of Atlanta, Georgia. Having our wedding in Atlanta was significant because it showed the level of love and commitment from my family and friends to have to fly overseas to celebrate our wedding. September 1, 1996, we were married at Roshanda’s home church, Decatur Seventh-day Adventist Church and some 227

of our closest friends from around the world were there to celebrate with us. Our families seemed to gel together well as we completed the final preparations for this exciting day. Roshanda’s mom (Rosa), dad (Jerome, Sr.) and siblings (Jerome Jr, Radiance and Jarone) welcomed me into their family, and my mom, dad and siblings welcomed Roshanda. I remember when the wedding day came and Roshanda was walking down the aisle, we were both fighting back the tears. I thought Roshanda or me would be the first to cry but we weren’t. It was my twin brother, Wayne! I just saw his shoulders going up and down out of the corner of my eye and then the tears came rolling down his cheek. We often labeled him as the crybaby of the family. Well, once he started to cry, the waterfall of tears streamed from everywhere. What a beautiful moment. My parents actually gave us our wedding gift, which was a honeymoon vacation in Orlando, Florida. We were graduate students so we couldn’t afford an elaborate honeymoon but we were grateful for our gift and took advantage of some of the timeshare meetings that allowed us to see a great deal of the city and its attractions. I was now living with my wife in Royal Oak. I started to work at a public access television station as a journalist and editor. I covered sports and events around the city. One day I got a call from someone in Bermuda who shared that there was a job being advertised for a Public Relations Assistant at the Bermuda Telephone Company. I applied for the job and was offered the position. I moved with my wife back to Bermuda to start a new chapter in life as a Public Relations Officer.

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CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE New York, N.Y., the City of Screams — Life in the Big Apple (Dwayne A. Caines)

When New York beckons it is hard to resist her charms, but there’s a reason why New York is known as the city that never sleeps … blink and you might just get yourself killed, I know, it almost happened to me. There’s an old proverb my Jamaican ancestors cling to ‘…don’t trust no shadow after dark’, and there are few with more lurking shadows in shade than in New York, New York. The setting was 1998 and I was working for the Bermuda Telephone Company as a Public Relations and Media Assistant. One day, while skimming through the paper looking for an opportunity that would put another feather in my proverbial business cap, I saw a job being offered for a Public Relations Manager in the New York office of the Bermuda Department of Tourism. I saw it as a phenomenal opportunity to use my skill-set in an overseas environment and represent Bermuda. I was chomping at the bit because it was an opportunity of a lifetime. I prepared my resume and went to the job interview. I was nervous going in but I felt confident. It was that feeling you get when you put your all into something and you just know you’re going to be 231

successful. Two weeks later I got the call that they had selected me for the position as P.R. Manager in charge of the New York office. I was ecstatic and immediately began picturing myself in the Big Apple. As the song says, “New York, New York, the City of Dreams.” It’s important, however, to take note of the rest of the song; “But everything in New York is not what it seems.” I was working on Fifth Avenue and 42nd Street, and anyone familiar with New York knows that Fifth Avenue is where it all happens. I would go for walks at lunch time and marvel at the magnificence of the city — I couldn’t believe this was my life. My wife was still in Bermuda and I had six weeks to find a place for us to live. I had family in New York, my mother’s first cousin and best friend, Aunt Blossom. She had eight children: Yorkland, Michelle, Paula, Karlene, Stacy, Kamilah, Aisha and Marissa. They became my support system. Each one opened up their homes and hearts to my family and me. We celebrated holidays, birthdays and good old family times together. What became evident was that everywhere I went, God provided me with people who protected me and created a safe haven for my family and me. My cousin, Yorkland, picked me up from the airport and took me right to his home in Brooklyn. His level of benevolence and kindness was mind blowing. He took Roshanda and me in and treated me like his brother. We wanted for nothing, he fed us, gave us a room to live in. He drove us around so that we could take care of necessary things like getting a driver’s license and looking for an apartment. Neither of my siblings was present with me in NYC but I had Yorkland, who became more than a cousin, he became my surrogate brother. He made sure that we wanted for nothing. His sisters treated me not like a cousin but like a brother, and my Aunt Blossom became my mother away from home. Growing up in Bermuda, my mother was notorious for opening our home and having people come by every single day. As kids we sometimes 232

became frustrated because people were always at our home. Some came for conversation, some for a hot meal and others for help or information. The circle of life is very interesting; now I was at the other end of the spectrum — dependent on the love and kindness of others. They say be careful on the ladder of life — the same people you pass on your way up, may be the same people you need on your way down. During our search for a place to live, we saw upwards of about thirty apartments, but nothing suited our needs for various reasons. As you can imagine, Brooklyn was nothing like Bermuda. I had to get used to very small apartments, very little amenities and very little access to the things I was accustomed to in Bermuda. There were apartments with bathrooms next to kitchens, very small square footage, a lot of traffic and noise and very little yard space. It was an exhausting undertaking for my wife and me. Finally, we found a beautiful complex on the waterside in Canarsie, Brooklyn. It was not Bermuda but, I dare say, surprisingly close to it. We were by the water, it was quiet, it was close to a park and it was a vibrant multicultural neighborhood and very secure. It was hard to believe an oasis such as that existed in Brooklyn, but it was a little slice of paradise. Finally, my wife and I had our own place to live in where we were both comfortable. We were all set except for finding my wife a job. My church had a camp meeting in Victory Lake, in upstate New York. Camp meeting is a time when all the churches in a specific area get together to develop a collective vision of what they need to do spiritually and regenerate their spiritual engines. While we were at camp meeting, we bumped into a Bermudian, Rosemary Tyrell. It was very exciting to see her because she was one of my former principals at Bermuda Institute, my old high school. She was a part of the executive committee at the conference. She said they had an opportunity for a Guidance Counselor, and we knew my wife was perfect for the position as 233

she was very qualified. So, shortly thereafter, my wife interviewed for the job with the principal of the school and the Superintendent of Schools for the Northeastern Conference and soon became the Guidance Counselor and Registrar at the Northeastern Academy in Manhattan, New York City. It was an opportunity of which she loved. So we were both set with jobs and a place to stay. The New York office of the Department of Tourism had a very unique texture because many individuals working there were Bermudians who had been in New York for many years. Regrettably, one thing became clear to me after my first week on the job; I realized it was just not a good fit for me. The work environment was not what I was used to, and the chemistry with some of my bosses was just not cohesive. After working there for three to six months, I realized it was not a good opportunity for me. And in addition to that, I did not enjoy the work I was doing. I became, more or less, a management level typist – not exactly a strength of mine – and so was planted the proverbial nail in my coffin. This was particularly troubling because my wife was pregnant with our daughter, Dasha Rayne, at that time. We were expecting a child and I was now out of a job. I had always worked so I was sure that I could simply go out, get a job and start working. I knew with my personality and experience, getting a job would be no problem. Three months went by and I was still not working. To make things even more complicated, Roshanda was suffering from preeclampsia during her pregnancy and was dramatically retaining water to the point that we knew she would have the baby at any time. This limited her mobility and put an extreme amount of pressure on me, as we did not have any immediate family present. On December 12, 1998, our daughter, Dasha Rayne, was born. She represented an exciting and new chapter in Roshanda and my life. New York was now not just a stop on our journey in life; it became the birthplace of our daughter. Our family history was now interwoven in that 234

world famous city. Who would have ever thought I would have a daughter born in Brooklyn. This was a beautiful time because we had a new daughter that we loved and adored and my older daughter would come and spend holidays and summers with us, but I was still not working. We had faith that something would work out, but two months went by, then three months, and then four months. So, you can imagine what it was like being in New York City having a young family and very little money. As a man I felt crippled and inadequate because I was not participating in the financial support of my family. I saw my wife everyday leave to go to work and I was still unemployed. I went to interview after interview. Sometimes walking into what is commonly referred to, as a “cattle call interview” where a company places a generic ad into the paper and once you get to the interview there are hundreds of people competing for one job. Those interviews were very intimidating and depressing because I did not even receive a courtesy call or a rejection letter. I started to slip into what I now know was a mild state of depression. I began to watch TV incessantly, stay on the Internet and withdraw from most of my friends and former colleagues, as I felt embarrassed not to be working. That was something that did not sit well with me because I came from a long line of providers where men were responsible for their families. There were some sparse business opportunities that presented themselves and I had to take advantage of whatever I could. There came a point in time where I made up in my mind that I would do whatever was legal and morally ethical to make money for my family. I resorted to selling purses on the street. I sold purses to anyone and everyone; strangers, family, and friends. It was miserable but it was necessary. Selling the purses was more for my benefit. I had to condition myself to be prepared to do anything to support my family and be an honorable man. I learned that who I was as a man was not defined by what I did for a living. 235

The essence of my manhood was providing for my family and not allowing the temporary position to dictate my path and trajectory in the future. Ironically, selling purses was a critical turning point. I was good at it and I was told I could “sell ice to an Eskimo, sun to a Jamaican and sand to an Arab”. Then one day one of my wife’s colleagues asked her if I could teach, my wife said, “Yes, my husband can do anything!” Her colleague said there was an opening at Excelsior Elementary for a substitute eighth grade teacher because the permanent teacher was going on maternity leave. My wife asked me if I was interested, and I was definitely interested. I went for the interview and they hired me as the substitute. I walked into the classroom and instantly felt a kinship with the students; I fell in love with them. For six weeks, I taught those kids everything I knew about English, Math, Science and Bible. After six weeks, their regular teacher came back and, unfortunately, my time ended. But I made such an impact on the class that the school asked me to come back and do summer school. So I did, and it was an amazing opportunity as well. The Northeastern Conference had another opportunity for me at R.T. Hudson. The commute was a bit of a challenge at times but we made it work. My wife and I would leave home at 7:00 a.m. and drive through Brooklyn to Manhattan, I would drop her off, and then I would drive to the Bronx. If for any reason we could not drive the car, it would take up to two hours on the subway to get to our respective jobs. But I loved teaching at R.T. Hudson. We had a group of teachers committed to excellence and a phenomenal group of students. I got involved in numerous extra-curricular activities; I was a co-basketball coach with Ian Hobson, I did some drama coaching and also directed some of the Christmas plays while I was there. It was a life-affirming experience. Most of my students were from economically disadvantaged environments but they were smart and switched-on kids. I remember the story 236

of a young girl in my class who missed huge blocks of school and I wondered what was wrong. One day she came to me and said, “Mr. Caines, my mother has died of AIDS and I am very sick and that’s why I have missed so much school. But I need you to keep that to yourself because I do not want the students in my class to tease me.” It was heartbreaking. The following week she missed more time out of class and I remember taking my class down to the office and we called her in the hospital. We sang and prayed for her over the phone and she was uplifted and truly thankful. I appreciated R.T. Hudson because it was a Seventh-day Adventist Christian school and I got the opportunity to talk and pray with my students and be a mentor to them. I was able to pour into their lives everything I had been prepared for over the last ten years. And every day when I walked into that classroom my vision was clear. Every day I would awaken with a keen sense of motivation because I recognized that my purpose was to transform the lives of these students I was responsible for. I taught there for two years. The school also had a phenomenal gospel choir. The students entered and won the McDonald’s Gospel Fest. It was a sign that a small Christian school in the Bronx with the blessing and anointing of God could do great things to change and transform their lives and the world, and they did not have to compromise to truly be recognized. While living in New York, I got involved with a drama group called Testimony. My good friend, Derrick Green, who was also co-founder of Willing Succeeding in Black while in college, started Testimony. Its mission was to take the message of Christ to people around the Northeastern seaboard through the art of acting. We had about fifteen to twenty people in our revue. We went from church to church; community to community acting, praying, singing … it was a phenomenal experience. Just like WSB we used our talents to glorify God and also to get the young people in the city to see their potential. Our 237

talents took us to camp meetings, youth conferences and it was a brilliant and creative way to spread the gospel. We also had the privilege of performing off Broadway. It was an experience in New York that I will never forget. We also became close to our new family at Bethel Seventh-day Adventist Church in Brooklyn, New York. There was a family called the Bells, who took a personal interest in my family and me. They invited us into their home for Sabbath lunch and they checked on us on a regular basis. They created a wonderful secondary level of support. There were also a number of people at the church who rallied around Roshanda and me to ensure the girls had the support that they needed. After being in the church for a few months, I came across a man immaculately dressed standing outside of the church. We struck up a conversation and I found out that he was a web developer and we also had a lot in common. He was also a member of my fraternity, Alpha Phi Alpha, Incorporated. We became very close, so close in fact that he became the godfather to my children. Yet again, individuals that became “our family” cocooned us and our circles began to expand. Our home, though small, became a hang out spot for couples as well as some of the young people in Testimony and in the church. We created a small version of my Bermudian Sabbath experience in our home in New York. It would not be uncommon on a Sabbath afternoon to come into our small loft-like apartment and see young adults crammed into a corner enjoying a wonderful Sabbath meal having intense conversation and enjoying a laugh. In fact, on Friday nights we joined with siblings Edwin and Jewel Bell and hosted groups of young adults at their home and at our home. I inherited the gift of hospitality from my mother and there was nothing more that made Roshanda and I happy than watching our friends relax, have a good meal and a good time. In the year 2000, this was a monumental time for the world. It heralded a new millennium 238

and signaled the dawn of a new era. Roshanda and I also were excited because on May 30th of that year, we were blessed with another lovely child, Dori Raven. She was a bundle of joy and yet another gift of God to us. We were proud and happy. She, like her sister, Dasha was born at State University of New York Hospital in Brooklyn. Two Brooklyn babies! At that time, we had all three of my daughters with us in New York and it was a critical growing phase in my life. I recognized that I was given the opportunity to use my God-given talents for leadership and mentorship, while developing my own character in the process. When we left Bermuda for New York, I was singularly focused; my goal was to be a maverick in business. God had to take the things that I thought were most important to me, which was prestige and affluence, and strip me down to the essence of who I truly was, and remind me that my calling was service to mankind. Sometimes we have plans for ourselves but God has a greater plan for our lives. Sometimes He will take you to a very low point so you can understand your purpose. In New York, my eyes were opened to who I really was and what my calling was and that was a calling of service. The pace of New York began to take its toll on Roshanda and me. The two-hour commutes to work, the fast-paced environment and the lack of intimate family support started to have an effect on us. We were leaving home at approximately 6:30 a.m. and arriving home most days at 5:30 p.m. sometimes 6:30 p.m. and the pressure started to affect our personal lives. We were spending so much time on the commute when we got home there was not much time we could spend with our infant children. Roshanda and I had to make a decision. We started to look around for opportunities in Maryland and the Washington, D.C. area because a number of our college friends were in the area and we were convinced that there would be professional opportunities there for the both of us. I then remember talking to my brother 239

and friends in Bermuda. My brother, Wayne, was back in Bermuda and my mother and father were encouraging me to come home so they could spend more time with their grandchildren. It became clear to me that it was time to go back home. I wanted to make an impact in the country of my birth and raise my children with the same family values that I grew up with. Roshanda and I put in our letters of resignation, we said our goodbyes and packed all of our belongings and headed back to Bermuda on September 2, 2001.

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CHAPTER TWENTY SIX Building a Home (Dwayne A. Caines)

One of the most coveted goals of Bermudians is to ‘get a piece of the rock’, translated ‘to own one’s own home’. To many in this country it is the benchmark or key indicator of personal success. `Real estate value in Bermuda stands among the priciest in the world, on par with that of Tokyo, New York and California. Sixty thousand plus people occupying 21-square-miles, Bermuda is one of the most densely populated countries in the world, and that contributes to making island real estate very expensive. It is not uncommon for a buyer to spend upwards of a million U.S. dollars for a three-bedroom home. While I was living in the United States, I felt a desire to go back to my country. I loved America and felt a synergy and a kinship with the country, but I felt a tugging to return home to Bermuda. I wanted to be near my family and friends. I felt we needed a greater network of people in our lives. I remember asking my wife when we got married if she could live in Bermuda, and she said she could. I knew I had an obligation to provide her with the same standard of living she was accustomed to after being raised in Atlanta and living in Detroit. We were excited to be back in Bermuda because we were with 243

people to whom I had a historical connection and bond with. Roshanda and I recognized when we came back to Bermuda it was imperative for us to save and get ourselves a piece of the rock. In Bermuda when a working-class family was building a home, it was customary to build apartments onto the main house. The apartments were income property used to supplement and assist with your mortgage payment. My parents had a studio and a twobedroom apartment on their main house. So Roshanda’s and my strategy was to move into the studio and save up enough money for the substantial down payment we would need to purchase our own home. The studio apartment was very small and even smaller when you consider the fact that it was occupied by my wife, my three daughters and me. Our youngest was 18-months, one was three-years old, and my oldest was twelve years old. We recognized it was an important stage in our development as a family because we had to consolidate. My wife, being American and having gone to undergraduate as well as graduate school, had an enormous student loan debt. On a side note, if America wants to find Al Qaida, they need only send the student loan people to the Middle East because they can find you no matter what tiny little corner of the world you have planted yourself into. But I digress! She had student loans, I had student loans and we were back in Bermuda having to financially start all over. For eighteen months we stayed in a studio apartment paying off bills and saving. Eventually, we realized the studio apartment was just too small so we moved into a one-and-a-half bedroom apartment on North Shore in Pembroke. It was a nice change that gave us a little more space and the kids could enjoy a back yard. We continued to save and put every extra penny away. And finally one day I told my wife I thought we had enough to start looking for a home. One day my mother called me; I distinctly remember I was watching the Super Bowl at the time, and she told me there was a home for sale that 244

was built by my grandparents and asked if I was interested in it. We had saved a sufficient amount for the down payment and went to the bank for the mortgage. We were delighted when our paperwork was approved. We had to then go back to the bank for more money to do certain renovations and repairs to the house. Unfortunately, we did not get enough money for all the necessary renovations so we had to continue saving and return to my parents’ home. Going back to my parents’ house, as a man, had a psychological effect on me because I felt like I was going backward instead of forward. But we had to suck it up and bite the bullet. We had the house; we just needed to do the renovations. I went to the house one Saturday night, it was pitch black and I remember being deeply frustrated wondering how I was going to get this house finished. I knew that if anything was going to be accomplished, I had to do something — I had to move and take a giant step forward. I lit some candles and got a big mallet and started zealously knocking down one of the walls. This was uncharted territory for me but I was taking ownership of the work that needed to be done. From a psychological standpoint, I knew I had to become vested in the project. I could not allow someone else to jump-start the project on my home; I had to start it myself. It was the most liberating experience because I was in the driver’s seat. A gentleman came to the door with a Jamaican accent and asked what I was doing. I told him I was working and he asked why I was working in the dark. In a confused, lonely, disheveled voice I said, “I don’t know”. And I was being honest because I really didn’t know what I was doing. He took the mallet from me and he said, “Let’s work together.” He told me his name was Vaughn but he said his friends called him Steff. I told him my name, and he and I worked together for four hours. We knocked down the wall and it opened up the space, and for the first time I could envision how I wanted my home to look. Vaughn said he 245

knew some individuals who would work for me at a fraction of the cost. He said, “I need your help though. I have a situation at Immigration and I don’t have anyone to turn to. I don’t have anyone to help me write letters or go with me to Immigration because I ran into difficulty with my former employer and I need someone to advocate on my behalf.” I told him if he worked with me I would use my time and resources to help him out with his situation. Vaughn and his friend, “Porter” helped me work on the house after hours for six weeks. My wife would cook a pot of food on Sunday and my friends would come over and we would eat and work on the house together. My family would lend a helping hand also. My friend and mentor, James Landy, who owned a construction business served as project manager on the house for free. He would give us instructions on what material to buy and what to do. So we had the benefit of his vast knowledge at no cost at all. For the first time I saw a different side of my country. Individuals in my community rallied around me and helped in the renovation of my “new” home. The thousands of dollars I would have spent on labor I saved because of the love and kindness of these selfless individuals. That project spawned many friendships that still exist today. Vaughn became one of my closest friends and, in fact, I was best man at his wedding. The house was finished, we moved in and our home became a testament to hard work and dedication. Another dear friend, Mason West, came along with my pastor, Kenneth Manders, and blessed our house. That house became an oasis for my family. We integrated very well in the neighborhood. Although, as time progressed, we needed more space as we had outgrown the house. So we sold it and purchased another home that had more space. But that whole experience taught me, once again, that God puts people in your life at the time you need them. It’s good to know doctors, lawyers and accountants, but sometimes the people who have the greatest 246

value in your world are the mechanics, the construction workers, and the electricians; they are the heart and soul of the community. A very valuable lesson was learned. The foundation of your world is the people you can count on. I learned a respect and honor for the craft of building. The tradesmen who keep the trade are the heartbeat and lifeblood of our community because they create safe havens by building houses that we ultimately call home. It was not uncommon in “old Bermuda” for family and friends to come together in evenings and build a home together. The women would cook a meal and the men would work feverishly night after night until the house was completed. This created a strong family and community unit. I experienced some of those old traditional Bermudian values from my family and friends when renovating our first home. It is an experience that I will never forget.

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CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN De Media Mon; Life as a Public Relations Manager at BPS (Dwayne A. Caines)

There is a time when a man’s voice must be heard and his face seen by a nation…but should it happen daily? And especially if one is not the leader of the country and needing to be shown. Needlessly or so needed, the spotlight firmly encroached and captured me upon my return to Bermuda from the rollercoaster ride in New York as I was suddenly placed front and center for all and sundry. In November of 2001, I joined the Bermuda Police Service as a support staff member, a non-police officer working as the Manager of Police Media and Public Relations. That meant I was the ears, eyes, and voice for the Bermuda Police Service. My duties included (they still do) managing the annual reports, writing press releases, managing the advertising and marketing of the service and creating media opportunities that highlight the Bermuda Police Service in the public light. I also manage the website and write a number of police documents. More importantly, I cover critical incidents that affect our community. Some of my friends jokingly refer to me as the “grim reaper” because whenever they see me on the news, in the newspaper or 249

news blogs and sites, I am typically reporting events of the bad variety. I was excited about getting the job because it opened up an opportunity for me to be part of a vibrant public relations environment. As a P.R. practitioner, the bread and butter is not the warm fuzzy day to day press releases, it is the critical life changing issues like management of a case of a police officer who was accused of sexually assaulting young boys, the unprecedented rise in gun violence that plagued Bermuda from December 2009 to January 2013. This position is everything I trained for and more. I remember at one point being overwhelmed by the magnitude of the job. I was a voice for the community in perilous times. I remember the first major incident I was called to cover: it was about 11:00 p.m. and a diver from a U.S. Navy ship had gone overboard and was accidentally sucked into the propeller at the bottom of the boat and was killed. I remember going down to King Edward VII Memorial Hospital and looking at the face of the other diver whose fellow sailor had died. I will never forget the look in his eyes. The U.S. Naval officers were gathered around and I remember having to do my first. That was the first of many other serious incidents I covered. My mind drifts back to when I covered the story of a double suicide. The two victims had taken a water-hose, attached it to the muffler of the car and put the other end into the window of the car. The next day Police arrived to find the two individuals in the car deceased. Another incident I will never forget was the case of a toddler who went missing in the neighborhood of West Pembroke. His guardian was frantically searching for him and could not find him. The police and the community came together and canvassed the neighborhood searching for him. About an hour later, someone screamed and we rushed to the house where we saw the silhouette of the child at the bottom of the pool. He had somehow slipped down through the pool cover and drowned. I have covered countless traffic 250

fatalities and road fatalities usually involve young Bermudian males tragically losing their lives in motorcycle accidents. I traveled from Somerset to St. George’s and everywhere in between, and I would venture to say I have reported on over one hundred deaths on our roads. Innumerable lives have been altered as a result of traffic accidents, whether the result is death or paralysis, lives are changed. It is one of the most depressing things to have to report on a regular basis. I was out with friends one night and I got a call about a collision. I was about to go to the hospital to get the particulars of the story when a young lady who was present at the same social location asked where I was going. Ironically, she had just received a call about her sister who had been in a car accident. I did not want to tell her because it was not my place or my job to tell her so I made my way to the scene. At the scene, I discovered the young lady involved in the accident died. I went on to the hospital and at the hospital I saw the young lady who had earlier asked where I was going. When she saw me, she punched me in my chest and shouted, “Why did you not tell me my sister was in an accident?” I told her I could not have taken that responsibility by telling her and risking something happening to her on the way to the hospital. She said it was my responsibility to tell her. She pushed me; she was very angry with me. I watched her go into the room where her sister’s lifeless body was and she screamed and wailed at the sight of seeing her. I remember another incident quite vividly about a young man named Kellon Hill. He had just graduated from my alma mater, Bermuda Institute, and was at a party. For whatever reason, he was attacked by a group of students and subsequently died. What made this particularly disturbing was that I was very close to his entire family. We were connected on many different levels through countless family relationships. I remember walking into that room and seeing his family grieving his loss and there was nothing I could do to take 251

away their pain. I had to step out of my role as a reporter and give them a word of comfort because they were my extended family. That was one of the unique things about being in the world of police media relations. As a person who is so connected to the community, you see people at the worst point in their lives. Oftentimes, these are people you have a relationship with but you are expected to remain neutral while being compassionate and kind. It was always a challenge for me to see those I cared about at their worst. I remember when Hurricane Fabian was brewing; it was a Category Five that actually reached Bermuda on September 5, 2003. It was said to be the worst storm that had hit Bermuda in over fifty years. We had received ample warning so we battened down the hatches and prepared for the storm. Shelters were set up and everything was in place. But no one could have prepared for the damage that the island would sustain. I remember a sequence of events that changed the trajectory of my life. I remember several police officers and a station duty officer leaving St. George’s Police Station to take one of the officers home. It was necessary for them to drive over the Causeway from St David’s Island to the main island of the chain called Bermuda, The Main. For those who are unfamiliar with Bermuda, a causeway is a road route across a broad body of water raised up on an embankment. A bridge is supported by columns and arches and a causeway is supported on earth or stone. The Causeway is important because of its proximity to the airport. Without it, we would essentially lose the main source for transporting goods and services to Bermuda. The Causeway took a severe battering by the winds and rain, and the officers didn’t realize a portion of the bridge had been washed away. I remember going into our command post and hearing the Police Commissioner having a conversation with one of the officers in the vehicle. He was giving him instructions. I could hear the officer saying, “Sir, I cannot see anything.” The 252

commissioner was frantically saying, “Hold on, we have someone coming!” The commissioner was trying to repeatedly engage the officer in conversation. He kept saying, “Can you read me? Come in. Can you read me?” And then suddenly all we heard nothing on the line — just the deafening sound of silence. It was at that moment that we realized something drastic had occurred. A day went by, then a few days went by, and then we realized that we had lost all four people in that vehicle. It was a very sobering reality. I recognized that the men and women I served with on a daily basis put their lives on the line for people just like me. When I worked for the BPS, people would often ask if I was a police officer and I would, somewhat, arrogantly say, “No, I’m a civilian member of the organization”. But after that day whenever someone asked if I was a police officer I actually felt unworthy of being a police officer and I would humbly tell them I was on the support staff. That day I experienced a mental shift and came to realize the officers I worked with were heroes. After the hurricane, many of us were required to talk to Grief Counselors and Psychiatrists, which has become a standard practice following a tragedy. I had never been the kind of person to talk to Psychiatrists or Counselors, and I was reluctant to go. As a P.R. person, I felt I could talk my way out of anything, so I planned to go in and tell him I was okay and then leave with my clean bill of health. He asked me a sequence of questions to which I had all the right answers. I remember him then asking me how I felt leaving my family home during the storm. That question took the wind out of my sail. During the hurricane, my colleague, Robin Simmons, my brother, Wayne, and I were charged with manning the Emergency Broadcast System, which the whole country listened to for information during the storm. We also played music and I remember a notable event relating to one of the songs I played. It was Frank Sinatra’s — “(I Did It) My Way”. Apparently, it was not the best song choice 253

during such a ferocious storm. Compounding the trauma and planting an unwanted notion in the minds of listeners was the lyrical first line which says: “And now the end is near …” With the playing of that song, the phone lines lit up like Times Square on New Year’s Eve. People were yelling, “Take that song off! That’s a song about doom!” And we laughed about it. In the midst of tragedy we were able to momentarily lighten our hearts. It was devastating hearing my colleagues take their last breath, but we were doing an important job by keeping the community up-todate on what was occurring around them. At a point I had to finally process that fateful question the psychiatrist asked me, which was — how I felt knowing my family was home alone during the storm. I envisioned my wife and my daughters, and soon every emotion I had bottled up came pouring out. The flood gates were opened and everything I had seen and experienced on the job came to the forefront. It was a deluge of emotions. I remember trembling and shaking and not knowing why. He told me I needed a break and he gave me a form. I told him I could not take it because I did not want to appear weak to my peers and have them think I couldn’t take the pressure. I discussed it with one of my colleagues, Inspector Mark Clark, and he made a very profound statement to me. He said, “A wise man knows when he needs help. And you needing a break is not a sign of weakness it is a sign that you understand where your strength comes from.” He had no idea that he had thrown me a lifeline at that point in my life. Around 2010, we experienced a gun violence crisis. We were experiencing what could only be described as urban warfare, the likes of which Bermuda had never seen. The number of deaths caused by firearms skyrocketed to over ten in one year which was very uncommon for us. As Bermudians we simply could not wrap our heads around young men killing each other. We were known as a place of peace and tranquility. We could leave our doors open 254

and walk around with a sense of pride that we did not have those gang issues we saw on TV in the big cities of the U.S., we prided ourselves on togetherness. But we, too, had succumbed to the scourge of violence. I saw images of parents crying over their children who had fallen victim to gun violence. Going to funerals became a regular occurrence. And sadly the most affected part of our community was the neighborhood I grew up in. I knew many of the victims and the victims’ families. I remember one night I received a report that there had been a shooting. This had become a common occurrence so I knew the routine. I put on my vest and went to the scene. This time I neglected to do something I normally do, which is ask who the victim is so that I can be prepared when I arrive. I remember walking to the spot where the body was and seeing the face of a young man I watched grow up. His parents were very good friends of mine. His name was Randy Robinson. I broke down and cried as I walked away. He was his mother’s only son; he was her everything. One of my senior officers, Mr. Mirfield, put his arm around me and asked if I was okay. I said, “Give me a few seconds to gain my composure”. I walked down the hill and as I walked I heard a sound that I will never forget; it was the heartwrenching screams of Randy’s mother. She cried and screamed at the top of her lungs for hours. She wanted to know why her son’s life was senselessly taken. I found myself attending a funeral practically every weekend. The problem had become so grave that my brother, Wayne, and one of my best friend’s, Dr. Lou Matthews and I decided to start a group called Rise Above Bermuda. It was an attempt to galvanize the community to find effective solutions for the gang violence. We recognized that the concentration of violence was among disenfranchised young men who felt their lives were at a dead-end because of lack of opportunities to rise above. Many were in drug environments, many did not excel in school so they banded together and held the whole community 255

hostage. We needed a long-term and short-term solution, and that was the goal behind the formation of Rise Above Bermuda. Living in Bermuda over the years, I have seen the worst it has to offer. But in that space I have had an opportunity to be the best I can be. I have also seen the flip side and interacted with the kindest, most loving and compassionate people on the planet. I have had the honor of working with men and women who put on uniforms every day, and their express desire is to keep Bermuda safe. It is an experience I have treasured and I am thankful to be a part of the BPS because it has given me the opportunity to serve my community.

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Dwayne and Wayne at three months

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Wayne (left) Dwayne 4 Yrs old at the Barcardi Building

Happy Valley Nursery Teacher: Marie Mathews Roxanne Christopher Dean Edwards Dwayne and Wayne

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Dwayne (left) Wayne 14th Birthday Party

Wayne (left) Dwayne 17 years old May 24 half Marathon (Hang in there Cainesey)

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WSB Leadership Team (1990) Oakwood University

The Fellas 1989 Oakwood University

Lt. Wayne Caines, Lt. Lauren Smith in Portland Jamaica

Daddy (Wayne) and Maxii

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Dwayne his Family (wife Roshanda, Daughter’s Dasha, Dori and Deshay)

Dwayne and his wife Roshanda

Roshanda, Dwayne, Maxanne and Wayne

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Wayne: Commencement Speaker Oakwood University 2012

Mom and Dad (Michael and Shurnett Caines)

Wayne, Maxanne and Danny Glover

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Political Poster 2007 Election (I lost L)

Captain Wayne Caines, Lt. Noel Pearman and Lt. Kevin Desilva, Recruit camp 2004

Wayne and Maxanne (and the Burberry Trousers)

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Dwayne-Media Relations Manager- Giving a National Brief (Whilst in Helicopter)

Dwayne, Wayne and Lou- on the Hogs Campmeeting 2013

Dwayne and Wayne on Hogs Campmeeting 20012

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Wayne and Maxanne (wife)

LT Caines (Daddy) and Maxii the Adventurer

Wayne and Dwayne on the rocks, southshore Bermuda

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Wayne: Digicel CEO :Official Opening of the Digicel Retail Store, Premier of Bermuda the Honourable Paula Cox JP MP cuts ribbon

Wayne, Travis ((brother) Dwayne

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Wayne and Maxii (daughter)

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Dwayne- Media Relations Manager

Wayne Caines-Digicel Bermuda CEO and Denis O’brien Digicel Chairman and Owner

Captain Wayne Caines, Jamaica

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Wayne and Maxanne (wife)

Wayne and Maxanne ( Barristers at Law, in their wigs and gown)

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Men in Family praying for Reece McKoy (he took a stand to get baptized)

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Dwayne, Travis (brother) Wayne and Santa

Siblings: Wayne Dwayne, Shereen and Travis

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Wayne and Dwayne

Dwayne and Wayne;Graduation Oakwood University

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CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT Lessons learned (Faith) (Dwayne A. Caines)

In life there are critical moments …highs, lows and many plateaus in between. In our lives, Wayne and I have had several of these…ebbs, flows, peaks and valleys, but through it all we have learned valuable lessons. One of the things we consider as the hallmark of our success is having a faith-based system of intra -dependence. It keeps us humble, grounded and gives us perspective as to where we should have something to focus in on and guide everything we do. We believe our faith has transitioned from the four walls of the Church and has been incorporated into every aspect of our lives. While I would state for the record that this is no indication of any journey completed or perfection in terms of our walk as African descendent Bermudian (people) or the ideal faith, yet it means that we understand the basic principles offered by Moses and other new and latter day disciples, apostles, prophets, teachers and preachers in that there is something, indeed someone much greater than ourselves – despite public opinion to the contrary. In the process, we have learned that dependence upon things we can see is only such, surface material. Instead we must peer 273

deeper into the raging abyss for that which has true substance, for these are the unseen things, mysterious pleasure of Godly provision that only the Creator can cater. Faith, as we know, “is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” This faith of present victory and accomplishment has played a significant role in developing our character. And we understand that service is the hallmark and calling of who we are, for it is what we give and not possess that is the true impact of living among men. Yes!!! We’ve taken part in much of the auxiliary functions of the Church which were paramount in bringing a love for God and discipline into our lives. We learned that we did not have to do the things that everyone else was doing. Refusing to compromise and go with the flow has made us stronger both as men of faith and in general. We were told growing up that we were peculiar; it does not mean better but simply special or unique. We, as each of us that walk this our rightful planet, have been set apart for a purpose much greater than the ordinary, as to call God ordinary is akin to blasphemy. Lessons learned (Family) (Wayne M. Caines) Regardless of our equating of ourselves unto men and God, we fall short as individuals and so at the epicenter of Dwayne’s and my development as twins was our home team. Yes, we’ve had our mother and father on edge both during and beyond our contrary antics and legitimate successes. We’ve ridden the rollercoaster through the climbs and descents, gutting it out at and holding on for dear life through the many adventures and misadventures, all the while remaining a unified force. We were brought up in an environment stressing discipline, love, hope and nurture, which have unfurled as the groundwork within our development. This system of cultivation has not only permeated 274

us but tentacled others to encompass and create a real - honest and open - extended family. Sabbath afternoons are ‘on blast’ during the Saturday luncheons that attract every segment of our family – relative or figurative – offering safe shelter for all. As each of our members are not without tribulation and fault, these lunches each weekend allow us to have a peaceful haven where we can share hope, dreams and ambitions with family tradition and beyond, continuing tradition passed down through the ages. It is our sustenance whether it be emotional, financial and/or spiritual it supports our family unit. We realize that a key component in all success is the faith in God the Creator, His command and promise intimately entwined to offer unmerited blessing unto a family, that it be filled with role models and examples for my brother, me and indeed each member and elsewhere to follow. Our mother’s family not only taught, demonstrated but mandated our participation in our Jamaican custom, ensuring that even though we lived in Bermuda, we had another rich element of our heritage that we should be proud of. We also connect with our paternal family members and learned about our heritage, in both Bermuda and in St Kitts. The close connection with our family allows our family to have clear, and honest measurements for success. We are able to have a unit where our kids can be safe and feel nurtured. Our family has been the pillars that we lean on in the most difficult of times. Dwayne and I are an amalgamation of all of the love and support that was given to us by our family. Lessons learned (Cultural Strength) (Dwayne A. Caines) From a very young age, we were taught about our culture and the beauty of our history. Our history did not start when we were slaves; our history began when we were kings and queens 275

in Africa. Yes, we were told about the darkness of slavery and the vestiges that still exists today, but we were told about the richness of our heritage and the legacy of our family that came from St. Kitts and our family that came from Jamaica. We learned about the role they played in shaping the West, the role they played in shaping Bermuda, and the role they played as educators enriching the lives of those they taught. Also, we have a profound respect and love for our home country in Bermuda. There is a rich culture that exists on our island; from the codfish and potato breakfast, the dancing of the Gombeys, to the maritime history as well as the men and women who the paved the way for us to enjoy the everyday things that some take for granted. We are truly honored and blessed to Bermudian. Your heritage is your story. We must take responsibility for passing down our traditions and our narrative. Many young people today are not fortified with stories of strength and do not have a keen understanding of the people in their families and communities that have paved the way for them to enjoy the quality of life they now come to expect. Therefore they don’t value themselves, their surroundings and their family. We were told that our history is what happens to us but our heritage is our role in history; how we embrace it and use it is a catalyst to create opportunities and paths for our families and ourselves in the future. Lessons learned (Cultural Evolution) (Wayne M. Caines) In this age of social media, oftentimes, we allow Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and other social media outlets to set our cultural pace. We have to go back to understanding our history. We now understand that a true knowledge of self is important particularly within the black community as so many black males are not living up to their full potential and find themselves in the penal system, unemployed or underemployed and/or selling illegal substances. 276

There must be a better reflection of who we are so that young black males have positive images to look up to and reflect on. However, an evolution must take place within our culture - we must be equally as concerned with everyone in our community that has experienced injustice of any kind. Injustice to any individual or group is just as detrimental to the fabric of society. Many times we look at the world from our myopic cultural perspective. We must broaden our scope of care whilst not losing the love and passion for the community that we represent. Dwayne and I focus on helping people who are in need. We have developed a global focus that mandates that we fight against injustice wherever it is. We will fight for the underdog wherever they are in the world. So our cultural evolution as black men has allowed us to appreciate our history and culture while speaking for the under-privileged all around the world. Lessons learned (Mentors/Mentorship) (Dwayne A. Caines) Wayne and I now realize what brought us to where we are in life today, were the people who took time to pour into our lives, long before we knew who we were or what we wanted to be. These were people who saw our potential and told us we could be anything we wanted to be. Growing up, both Wayne and I had phenomenal teachers. I think of the teachers at Prospect Primary, the teachers at Warwick Secondary, and in particular, Mr. Hill and Mr. Trott, both of whom have since passed on, taught us at Bermuda Institute. Their belief, understanding and commitment went a long way into shaping our characters as men. We had teachers at Oakwood College who believed in us like Dr. Alma Foggo-York, who was a Bermudian working at the college, who mentored us from our last year of high school to graduation from college. When Wayne and I got into trouble at the school, she went to the administration and lobbied on our 277

behalf. She opened up her home and her heart. One of our mentors was a gentleman by the name of James Landy. He was an active agent of change in our lives. To this day, he is a man that Wayne and I consult about major movements in our lives. He has been a steadfast guiding force for us. He is a man of principle who has seen us through life’s ups and downs. What has been especially powerful is that he was never hesitant to tell us when we were wrong, and always affirmed us when we were right. James, a builder by trade was always concerned with us “building” a strong character. He invested time in the both of us and we are eternally grateful. Lessons learned (Mentorship) (Wayne M. Caines) God’s blessings have not been limited, for in my professional career I have had a number of people who breathed into my life and gave me the opportunity to excel, most notably, Mark Pettingill, now the Attorney General of Bermuda. It was he, who while working at the firm of Smith, Bernard and Diel, took me on as an inexperienced summer student, gave me guidance and advice and allowed me to assist and grow with major cases and spend time with him court. When I became a prosecutor, Juan Wolfe gave me training, tutelage and very tough love. He set a very high standard and showed me how a professional prosecutor carried themselves. He played an integral role in my development as a prosecutor. Also, Mr. Carl Greaves, now a Puisne Judge in the Supreme Court of Bermuda. When I was a fledgling prosecutor in the Magistrate’s court he was exceedingly hard on me. He would take me into his chambers and give me guidance as to where I went wrong. The late Dorian Taylor, my pupil master, he instilled in me a high standard of professional legal conduct. When I entered into politics, Dr. Ewart F. Brown was a constant professional example. I traveled 278

abroad with him on many occasions. I was able to observe him interact with senior U.S. government officials, Caribbean heads of state and senior members of the British government. He was a professional mentor who showed me what I needed to do to succeed in politics. My time with Dr. Brown was exceptionally well-spent. On a personal note, when I was heading to law school, a gentleman named Wayne Dill heard that I was leaving for school and gave me $500 toward my books. I did not know Wayne very well, he simply said to me, “I believe in you and want to be a part of making your dreams come true.” I was overwhelmed that somebody believed in me and sowed a seed into my education when I didn’t even believe in myself. I have never forgotten that benevolent act and it has prompted my wife and me to help others in need whenever we have the opportunity. Rammy Smith is a Bermudian entrepreneur who gave me advice on how to purchase my first home. I had an interesting experience with Rammy. One afternoon he took me to a restaurant in Hamilton and recommended the sushi. I told him I didn’t eat sushi because I didn’t like it. He asked me if I had ever tasted it and I said, no. He said, as a man of color I had to be willing to try things that were outside of my comfort zone. He went on to tell me about all the different types of sushi and encouraged me to be a cosmopolitan man of the world. He didn’t force me but he strongly suggested that I step away from my Big Mac and Cheeseburger mentality and push myself to try and experience new and diverse things. One of my many spiritual mentors was Dr. Stanley James, who is only four years my senior. He is a medical doctor and a pastor. He held me accountable for my walk as a Christian and as a leader. He has what he calls “required reading” books that he gives me once every four months to enhance my spiritual and professional growth. Whenever I speak publically Dr. James takes 279

me through my paces and ensures that I am ready and prepared for the speaking event. Dr. Carlyle Simmons, was my pastor for a number of years. This is a man who walked uprightly and circumspectly, when I was a teenager he spent a great deal of time with Dwayne and I. He was a guiding force in my life and in the lives of several of the other men in my community. Dr. Maria Seaman is someone who has mentored me from afar. She is a minister in Bermuda and former school teacher, and when she is on the radio or on television she evokes a spirit of power. She is organized and embraces her community. She transcends the pulpit and interacts with the general public on a day to day basis, in newspaper articles, Facebook and in other non-conventional ways. I have countless family members who have been instrumental in my personal growth. My Uncle Rollin and my Uncle Aaron were ever-present forces in my life. These men were by my side providing love, guidance and support throughout my entire life. Dwayne and I could never forget my Uncle Junior who gave up two years of his life as a young man to come to Bermuda to help our parents with the daunting task of helping with us. My Aunt Elizabeth has played a very important role in guiding shaping and mentoring as well. I believe that sharing your life experiences and developing meaningful long-term relationships with those who need guidance and support is critical for saving the next generation of young people. Oftentimes, we lament the crisis in our communities but we very rarely see men and women who have experienced success return to their community to mentor other men and women. It is imperative that we provide solid role models for our young people and be a connecting, transforming force in their lives

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Lessons learned (Mentorship) (Dwayne A. Caines) My pastor has a saying that goes: “We stand on the foundation of many generations.” One of the things that Wayne and I have come to recognize is that there are people in our community, great and small, who poured into us and we were mentored by individuals, some of which did not even know that by the very act of their kindness they were impacting our lives. We were students of Church leadership and students of cultural leadership, and that is the sum total of the word mentorship. It may be someone who looks like you or does not look like you, but pours into your life something that you can return to society and make the world around you a better place. We stand today not as great men but as men who have benefited from a community of people who invested in our character and our development. A man is not known by what he tears down but what he builds up. There are many in the community and in the Church who are leaders but they do not possess the character that causes young people to say, “I want to be like them.” Sometimes the best sermon young people can receive is seeing a Christ-like commitment in the lives of their leaders. Lessons learned (Community Service) (Wayne M. Caines) Charity is translated in scripture as ‘love’ and so has been our labors, travails and triumphs through this trek called ‘life’. Moreover, family, the extended community and our connection and service therein have not only been legendary, but productive to the greater. A significant portion of the work that Dwayne and I have been involved in is volunteer work for many different organizations, donating time, leadership and giving support to those in need. We have learned that community service is the hallmark of our 281

character and we are honored to give back to a community that has given us so much. Everyone must have something or someone that you can selflessly give to and expect nothing in return. The strength of our communities is judged by how we take care of our vulnerable citizens. Do not sit and wait for the Government or Big Business to make a difference in your community. You must be the change, you must take action to revitalize your community. Find something that you like, something that you are good at and help someone and do not expect anything in return. Our communities are only as strong as the people in them. If there is a weakness or need in our community, we must have people who are community-minded who are willing to roll up their sleeves and get involved. We often see in times of natural disasters such as hurricanes and blizzards, people come together and galvanize to solve the problem. We must find areas and occasions in our community where we can fill the gaps. A great metamorphosis takes place when people band together. Not only does the community get stronger but we as individuals also benefit from that strength. Lessons learned (Facing Obstacles) (Wayne M. Caines) Obstacles are a constant – they will not disappear –and you will have read exactly how Dwayne and I faced many obstacles in our lives that could have been the end or seriously derailed a path of success. It could have been the end when I was told I had dyslexia. It could have been the end when I did not succeed in the election. I had to realize that my very essence was being tested during every crisis. Oftentimes, we go through life and when obstacles come we fall down and give up. We must have the ability to face the things that take us off track and have a clear plan on how to recover. If you are a young person struggling to 282

pay for college, you may have to withdraw for a semester or two. You may not be able to finish in four years, it may take you five years, even six or seven years but you must persevere. Life is never going to be easy; it is not a rose garden and you will encounter things that pull you down. You will encounter people that will not believe in you. You must have the fortitude, the grit, and the savvy to rise above adversity and fight through a difficult set of circumstances. Set clear and obtainable goals, and move towards achieving them. Celebrate milestones, reflect on challenges and never give in to that nagging bastard called defeat. Success comes in many different packages, I have learned that I am evolving as a person and my view of success has morphed over the years. I constantly face obstacles, things that weigh me down and try and overtake me. I never get overwhelmed with the test or trial of the day. I focus on making a plan, trusting in God and knowing that I will get through the challenge. I am not scared of pain or hurt, I have come to expect it. But I have an abiding faith to know that I am never alone and I will always have a guiding force that will lead and direct my path. Lessons learned (Iron sharpens Iron) (Dwayne A. Caines) It is a hallmark of success for any individual that the ‘team’ be equally successful, thus I believe that some of our success as men has been as a result of our peer group associations. Those we associated with were passionate, progressive persons who wanted the best for themselves and their communities. They had a passion and zeal for life and a thirst for success that was infectious. We linked arms socially and spiritually and always endeavored to better ourselves and our community. Some of these young individuals were raised by a single mother but went on to become great men in the community. Everywhere Wayne and I went, God placed like-minded men in our circles to protect 283

us, sometimes, from ourselves. We are all members of Alpha Phi Alpha fraternity and that organization is icing on the cake of leadership; it embodied our community principles, it embodied our spiritual principles, and allowed us to do phenomenal things in Huntsville, AL, and equally in our community through the local chapter in Bermuda. Your success and evolution in life begins with associating yourself with men who are destined for greatness and understand the importance of the space they occupy in the world. I have had dear friends who have been consistent with their friendship. Wayne and I have always surrounded ourselves with individuals who have had the same likeness and interests; men who were always committed to their community and selfdevelopment. We surrounded ourselves with men of standard. They say, “High tide raises all boats.” Equally being surrounded by positive men reinforces positive behavior. Dr. Lou Matthews, Owen Simons, Kwame Webson, Omar Pennymen, Shawn Crockwell, John and Scott Pitcher, Nathan Mapp and Denton Leader and numerous others were close childhood friends. Along the way, we have made the acquaintances of some strong men who continuously strive to make everyone around them better. I think of Jason Green, Barclay Simmons, Noel Hayward, Patrick Bean, Mark Clarke, Calvin Smith, Belcario Thomas, Jerome Reid, Dale Jackson, Shannon James, Lloyd Holder, Owen Simons, Marc Telemaque, Ross Noe, Marlon Williams, Noel Pearman, Arnold Todd, Larry Musenden, Lorenzo and Lamel Burch, Sydney Bean and James Howard, Gary Moreno, Trevor Lindsay and Patrick Burgess. My time at Oakwood College was profound because it was there that I met some of the most influential peers such as Mike White, Derrick Green, Neale Davis, Mason West, Eric Thomas, Eric Walsh, Paul and Patrick Graham, the WSB family, Peter and Andre Campbell, Dynamic Praise and the Bell Tower Ministries. There was a group of men and women over the years 284

that have become spiritual advisors who have kept us grounded spiritually and focused. Those individuals were Pastor Kenneth Manders, Pastor Carlyle Simmons, Pastor E.E. Cleveland, Bishop Lloyd Duncan and Apostle Denwiddie, Pastor Phillips, Pastor Damon Hendrickson, Pastor Hetsberger, Pastor and friend Mason West, Elders at Hamilton Seventh-day Adventist Church, Pastor Trace White, my grandfather Elder Lester Nathan, and my brother-in- law, Pastor Jimmy Ferguson. Much can be said for healthy relationships with females who played an important role in our development. At Hamilton Church there was a group of young ladies who we grew up with from the age of about two years old. We still remain close to them as friends and attend church together and we will do anything for each other. Those friends are Tracey (Spenser) Richardson, Judy Spenser, Michelle Spenser, Deah Iris, Chanelle Francis, and Rhoda Musson, Tremae Smith, Lakeesha Bean and Cynthia Thomas Hassell. Roxanne Christopher was a childhood friend of our mothers who came to the shores of Bermuda around the same time, she has remained a close friend and confidant over the years. There was also families in our neighborhood that provided love and escape. The Morris family became the neighborhood family. They turned their yard into a sports field, whether it was cricket, football, or basketball, the neighborhood kids after school or on summer holidays would meet and enjoy the peace and safety of their environment. For their love, nurturing and protection we are thankful. The Cumberbatch family lived only a block over from our house, they had five children that were around our age. There was a strong closeness between them and us we are thankful for their friendship over the years. The Annie and Steven Phipps family, the Faries family, the Dill family, Place family , Wade family, Fox family, Pedro family, Leader family, Breary family and Stevens family. It was like a village growing up 285

and we were proud to be a part of the Happy Valley and Shelton Road Village. In conclusion: (Wayne M. Caines) When I think about writing a book, I realize that normally a person writes a biography when the subject is up in age. By the same token, one generally thinks of writing their autobiography much later in life. So, the process of writing this book has been a journey of reflection and introspection. I asked myself what I wanted to accomplish in this book and the answer in a nutshell is this: My life is no different from anyone else’s. I have had good days, I have had bad days and I have faced obstacles. The beauty of my existence is that my parents instilled a love for my faith and that has been the moral compass for my life. I have a twin brother whom I love with all my heart, a sister and another brother, both of whom I love with all my heart, I have been given the opportunity to love, nurture and develop my family, and the ability to spend time with my wife, Maxanne and my daughter, (also named Maxanne). I have been blessed to experience professional success as a Lawyer, as a Military Officer and as a Chief of Staff to the Premier of Bermuda. But I now know that all of the professional success does not mean anything if I do not have a meaningful and loving relationship with my wife and my daughter. I cannot be out saving the world and I have not saved my marriage and I have not nurtured, loved and developed my daughter. As much as I have run from it, I am called to be leader. I have committed to take on a leadership role in my church. I am cognizant where all of my blessings come from. I know that I have a deeper responsibility to my community and I will walk in my purpose. I want to be a person who is a voice for the voiceless. I want 286

to be someone who lifts up the downtrodden and the broken. If writing this book can encourage one young man or woman who has dyslexia, one young woman who was told she would never succeed, one young man who is incarcerated facing a stretch of time and thinks it’s over for him, one entrepreneur who has a dream but doesn’t have the money to make it a reality, if I can inspire just one of them then my goal in writing this book will have been achieved. I encourage everyone to continue to believe, continue to work hard and continue to think big. And no matter what you go through do not give up. I want to pay homage to all the people who believed in me. I want to say, ‘Thank you’ to everyone who helped me along the way, and as long as God gives me breath I will continue to help and serve others. In conclusion: (Dwayne A. Caines) “The house we live in tomorrow will depend on the labors of today. We must work together young and old to ensure the foundation is strong. Love must build the house.” And so it has been that Wayne and I have been surrounded by phenomenal people and a world of opportunity in our lives. Born to and raised by parents who loved us, disciplined us and kept us rooted and grounded in our faith, we had a community that wrapped their hearts and arms around us and poured into our lives, peers who were long-suffering alongside us. We believe we are the sum total of the love and dedication of our community. We simply want to say, ‘Thank you’ and encourage a young man or a young woman to persevere and realize they can achieve in spite of any obstacle. This book is to encourage parents who may be struggling with their children and fearful that their sons or daughters will not develop into the men and women they dreamed 287

they would become. This book is for the community who is growing wary and angry because they do not know if everything they have collectively sacrificed for will be in good hands with the generation that is coming up. We want to say to that young person who is searching for direction that we are by no means perfect men; we are fundamentally flawed, just ask our wives. But what we recognize is that God has asked us to stop and take time out to reiterate that we must believe in Him and we must believe in each other. It is our hope and our prayer that somebody reading this book will be transformed and come to realize that through the power of God they can do anything if they simply believe. I would like to thank my wife Roshanda and daughters Deshay, Dasha, and Dori for their support and inspiration. I would also like to thank my family in Bermuda, Jamaica and the United States for their belief, support and love.

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