The Long Road Home

By TH Cyrus

About the Book
Many of us take this journey in life daily, and sometimes we are not sure where we are going or where we will end up. The Long Road Home captures Theron H Cyrus’s journey throughout his life. It captures his pain, tears, achievements, triumphs, and failures.
It tells of his spirituality and driving force within to succeed. When Cyrus fell, he got up. When he abandoned God, He did not give up on Cyrus, and restored him to his place in His Kingdom. This book is a must read, especially for those who may have fallen and are wondering how to get back up!

About the Author
The fourth of his parents’ five children, Theron H Cyrus was born into a poor family with an uncompromising Christian faith, and a strong belief in service to God and their fellowmen. His mother was saved before he was born. Though they were poor, Theron grew up in a home filled with laughter and love.
Taught to pray and love God, he gave his life to Christ at the age of 14 and began to exercise his Christian faith and beliefs. This has continually been a driving force in his life and what has made him the man he is today.
Theron enjoys reading and studying the Bible. It gave him the foundation in his military service, his daily life, and in the love for his family.

• Language: English
• Publisher: RoseDog Books
• Release date: Aug 17, 2023
• ISBN: 9798887299600

Book preview

Going to America

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When you get to America, please do not come back here because there is nothing here for you. You must promise me that, my son! The young son stared into his mother’s eyes as he heard her final words the few days before traveling to the airport to board that plane for the start of his journey. Yes, Terry was on his way to America. He did not know if that was his mother’s final request or final marching orders as she sent him off to a foreign distant land. Terry just knew she loved him and he wanted desperately to respond but was choked up as he saw the anguish on her face and tears in her sad eyes. Though she had five children, Terry, who was the pride and joy of his mother’s heart, was going away. He could only imagine all the thoughts that were in her mind: from his difficult birth, to the doctor’s prediction that Terry will not live for more than a week, to all the sickness he went through as a baby and all the praying and sleepless nights she endured in hopes that God would have mercy on her to answer her prayer and spare the life of her son; to have him be the young man he had become; just to see all of that being whisked away by a plane ride.

Terry was born the fourth of five children to a mother and father who were not married at the time and for whatever reason, he was born sick or what would be described in America as premature. In the Caribbean in the sixties, medicine was not at its best and it was very possible that children born with any illness will not live. So, there were many challenges facing him. When he was born, the doctors told his mother that he will not live past a week and be prepared to bury him. But here Terry was fifteen years later facing the biggest step/test/challenge of his young life. He was leaving the only place, the only home and the mother’s love he’s known.

Not fully understanding the charge he was given, Terry walked slowly away without uttering a single word and sat in his usual corner under that apple tree where he went to cure his loneliness or to discuss with himself whatever was bothering him. The apple tree always provided comfort for Terry. It was a staple of their backyard that had been there for years and like that reliable friend you can always count on. A friend who would never judge you and was so loyal that they would never utter a single word nor criticize your mistakes and lack of proper decision making skills. At fifteen years old, Terry was a very shy boy and had been brought up to know that mummy was always right. So why was he being given the conflicting charge? Why would he not come back to his homeland? The only home he has ever known? Barrouallie was a beautiful fishing village. It sat in the middle of two hills—Glebe Hill and Kearton’s Hill,, where Terry was born—and opened to two beautiful beaches. It is the only village/town where Blackfish (Sperm whale) was/is hunted, caught and harvested for their rich oil and meat. That little seaside town full of seafood, fruits, and vibrant life—it was beautiful and regardless of where Terry was going, in his heart and soul, this was home. However, he did not question her judgment, counsel or orders.

Terry’s uncle sat idly by at this moment of counsel as his departure guidance was being impressed on him. He was somewhat dumbfounded that his uncle did not take this opportunity to exercise his wise counsel. He thought this, because his mother was a poorly educated and simple woman who had never finished school. She started having children at an early age and had to work on the plantation in order to provide for her children; so she never really had much in life. Princess and her family were poor. She didn’t finished any type of formal schooling and except for life in her small village cropping coconut, picking tobacco, cotton, digging arrowroot and various other crops on the plantation. She was not wise in any way to matters of her country nor much more the world.

 She had never traveled outside of that small beautiful island nor even taken a plane ride anywhere. Her life was occupied with trying to give her five children the best of nothing, working her few acres of land planting peas, tomato, yams and potato; to name a few and on the local estate plantations chopping coconut, picking tobacco, cotton and various other crops to make a living of very meager wage. She was content with giving all five of her children equal portions of love, food, education, religion and anything else her meager wages would afford her.

On the other hand, Terry’s father was an alcoholic who would come home after drinking the day and night away and fight everybody in the house. He also worked the plantations and could not wait for the fortnight/pay day to get paid. On that fortnight Friday (payday), he would get paid and his whole paycheck, though not much, would be gone before he got home. He would drink his whole paycheck away with his drink of choice—white (colorless), strong (over 100% proof) rum with a little water chaser—then he’d then make his way home full of cheap alcohol. He was a stone cold, fall down drunk! He was an abuser! Many days and nights the family would cower in corners of the house and just wait for the drunken hurricane name James Kaine but all the children referred to him as the Ogre because of the mayhem that accompanied his drunkenness. Was this the night when they will be chased around the yard by the Ogre carrying his cutlass? Was this the night when the pot or plates with whatever food Princess had scrapped up and prepared for her five children with some for him, would go flying out the door and into the yard? These are just some of the questions that plagued their minds as they prepare for the hurricane Ogre to make his presence. The entire family and even some of the neighbors were afraid of him.

At this point, Terry’s mother and father had been together for over thirty years and had never gotten married. In the Caribbean, this was not an unusual thing. Marriage was not high on anybody’s agenda. Most men and women meet and start having children (they imagine this constitutes a relationship) whether they are living together or not. At some point, they may move into a very meager dwelling but would never consider getting married. This was the norm. So, you would find many families where the father may be present but not engaged because the children were really raised by the mother.

Many of these nights Terry wondered why his mother had put up with this abuser and drunkard for such a long time. What was the attraction to him? To this point she had given him four children (the oldest was from a different relationship before they met) and all she got back in return was abused and disrespected. Was this love? Was this what love looked like? What was it that kept such a spiritually sound, though financially poor with meager means attached to such an abusing drunk at the cost of her children’s welfare? Terry asked himself these questions because, there were the usual tossing of pots or plates of food that their mother had cooked and after feeding her children, the remainder was left in a pot or plated for James Kaine. It made no sense. Half the time they had no food to eat regular meals, and whenever Princess would manage to get food to cook for her children and save some for that drunkard, he would come home, chase them out the house and throughout the yard with his cutlass. Many nights they would seek refuge in one of the neighbor’s yard and house or hide between the many pomegranates trees or hedges throughout the yard until the drunkard passes out for the night. There were those nights when some of the children would hide under neighbors’ houses and between the hedges that separated the houses to avoid getting beat up by the hurricane of a father. Terry wished he could use that same cutlass on his ass. Sort of a taste of his own medicine. He hated his father! That would guarantee peace for them all.

So, on one hand Terry was glad to be going away, but he will not be able to protect his mother even at the expense of his own beating. The mixed emotions were like a dog trying to bite its own tail trying to get rid of fleas or whatever it was in that tail annoying it. It was difficult for Terry to leave his mother knowing the daily difficulties she faced with this Ogre.

After one drunken rampage, the Ogre began to beat on Princess, and when young Terry intervened in the defense of his mother, he was badly beaten by his father and left bloodied and in pain with a stiff neck. Terry made the decision to stop talking to his father, because a father who loves his children would never mistreat and abuse like he did and was doing. It would take over thirty years before Terry would talk to him again. Many of days when Terry would call from the United States to speak to his mother and he would answer the phone, Terry would not even address him in any way. His only words were, Let me talk to my mother. Automatically, he would just pass the phone to Princess. There was no doubt that he knew who was calling because he would just say, It’s your son. Eventually, he started to complain to Terry’s sister that her brother would call from America and would not even say hello to him. Terry did not care; he had hurt him to his core and such a scar is not easily healed nor erased. He hated his father and he could not make that hate go away. Nobody mistreat my mother, PERIOD, Terry exclaimed! Terry exclaimed after that beating that James Kaine was not his father because a father will never mistreat his children in that way. This was not love. Terry hated him!

Those days in the Caribbean, you did not call the police for these things. Even though there were police patrols in the villages and neighborhoods, it was more of a neighborhood outreach than police enforcement. Besides, there was no such thing as domestic violence, domestic abuse nor child abuse. This was life. It was normal in the Caribbean. It was a man disciplining his family. Well, nobody knew better, so a parent beating the hell out of their children or a man knocking his girlfriend/wife around in the front yard were all acceptable behavior. As a matter of fact, many of these episodes usually drew audiences. It was common. It was life and the lack of information and education made it even more acceptable. Terry recalled seeing a husband that was a teacher walked into his primary school class and beat the hell out of his wife (another teacher) with all the students ducking for cover. He was removed from school that day but returned to teach the following day.

Because of many of these events and his mother’s teaching about Christ, Terry decided to give his life to Christ at the age of 14. He had met a pastor from the Church of Christ who frequented the neighborhood and community. Terry quickly got on board his ministry and started traveling the island preaching and teaching the gospel on Sundays (three services in three different villages) and Wednesdays (two Bible study sessions in two different villages). Their mode of transportation was a Suzuki motorcycle with not a lot of power. Many of the roads used to reach those villages for church were very mountainous and because the motorcycle lacked power, it could not carry them both up some of the hills. Therefore, Terry would have to get off and run up the hill. This thing was so weak on power that many a times, Terry would beat it up the hill and be waiting on Pastor Gillezeau to reach the top. They both had a lot of adventure on their many travels trying to reach communities with the gospel. Terry also became one of the five members of the church’s Bible debate team and would travel the country debating Bible and scripture with other churches.

Terry, being the fourth of her five children who was born into a household and community with no running water in the house. They had to collect water in buckets from public water taps set up by the government within the local community and carry it on their heads at distances of up to a mile. The house was poorly constructed on stilts (wooden posts) about three feet tall with wooden panels made from Grugru tree wood for the floor that did not fit together. It consisted of two bedrooms and a living area. There was the bedroom for their mother and father with a homemade wooden bed with a hand-sewn mattress stuffed with dry grass to sleep on. The daily chore was making sure that the mattress was aired out by hanging in the sunlight. The second room was for the four boys where they slept on the floor on pieces of scraps of old torn up clothes that could no longer be worn that were used for their bed. The living area had a little wood made settee just big enough for one with a hand-sewn grass mattress that the only girl child slept on. As the boys would lay on the floor, they could see the ground through holes/gaps in the poorly fitted Grugru tree floor. Because there was no running water, there was no flushing toilet. At night they use a basin or pee-pot and it was one of the boys’ responsibility to dump it in the toilet in the morning. The toilet WC was a little hut built over a hole dug into the ground with a craftily built cement toilet seat deep enough to last a few years. When that hole begins to fill, it would be covered over with dirt and another on dug, and the little hut moved to cover it. It was all they had and it was life. At least they had their life and health, Terry thought, and as long as they believe in God, life will be the best it can be for them.

Princess believed in hard work and instill that in her children at whatever cost. Some of these involved her children toting sacks/bags of yams, potatoes, breadfruit, and firewood for cooking and other provisions on their heads for up to a couple miles with the last quarter mile straight up Kearton’s Hill. Terry remembered on this one occasion the load he was carrying was so heavy that he dared not put it down because it would be impossible for him to get it up on his head again. When Terry got home and dropped the load, his head and neck hurt like hell. He ended up with a stiff neck but this was his life, his family’s life. Hard work was required if you were going to be successful in life and if you were going to get food into your stomach.

Terry remembered that one or more of the four boys always peed on the rags they use for bedding on the floor at nights and they would have to hang the pee-soaked rags to dry the next day hoping that it would not rain. If it rained, they were unable to put the pee-soaked bed rags out to dry and would have to sleep on them the next night, pee soaked and odorous. There was always a rumble to see who could find any dry spot, so they would make sure they try to go to bed as early as possible to get the best spot. The constant pee-soaked rags for bed resulted in bed bugs that enjoyed feasting on their bodies at nights. There were many of sleepless night because the night was spent trying to slap their bodies to kill fat and feeding bed bugs. This went on for years. The beauty of this life was that they lived with what they had and what they knew and that made them happy. You never wished for what you did not know. You lived with what you had. That is what God gave you.

The kitchen was separated from the house. The floor was dirt and it was what was referred to as wattle and daub hut because it was made with a thatched roof made of bundles of tied-up dry grass and platted bamboo pasted with mud making up the sides. The family collected wood to cook their meals that were prepared over an open fire with their single cast-iron pot (used for all their cooking) sitting on three large rocks in the right corner as you entered through the bamboo door. That fireplace was used for cooking meals, frying fish, roasting plantains, breadfruit, fish to name a few. Terry remembered the games that they played in the kitchen of who would get wet the least when it rained. The kitchen grass roof leaked terribly but they had the most fun possible with what the good Lord had blessed them with. During rain storms (there were many), they would stand in different places in the kitchen and as the roof would leak,