i always knew that my dad was a tireless rural development activist in Jamaica. For sure, his first love was Jamaica. But it took goin to Jamaica to bury my dad to see all the politicans there, and to geta  letter from the former prime minister of Jamaica to realize that dad was practically a national hero.

He was born in rural Mayfield, Manchester, Jamaica  Feb. 28th 1932 to Florence "Coolie" Sessing and William Oliver Wright. Dad's mom died when he was barely one, and he never saw his dad till he was eight. he was raised by a great grandmother he called "Ma", and remained the most stable parental figure in his formatibve years. He always missed his mom, which is why he wanted to be buried next to her in Mayfield. He was getting treatment for lymphoma cancer in Florida for 2 years, during which time he got rid of the cancer twice, and it came back more virulently. During his last week, he declined rapidly, spending most of his time unconscious. He wanted to die in Jamaica, and for all intensive purposes, it didn't look like he could leave the hospital and go onto a plane... but miraculously, with the help of Air Jamaica, he went on a flight on a stretcher with my mom, my Aunt Elaine, and a doctor. Dad died within 12 hours of being in Jamaica, and my mom told me that he died with a peaceful smile on his face, a big change from the visage of discomfort and struggle that his face would have during that last week. This image alone has given me much solace. It is an inspiration, a blessing, a gift.

He was the Jamaican Ambassador to Mexico in the 60s. He graduated from Fordham and Columbia. He founded and directed Projects For People, an NGO that helped people get funding for community based projects. He learned how to make cheese at the University of Wisconsin, and in the 80's started his own community project, his own model for rural development, a series of cheese factories run co-operatively by dairy farmers in the country. 

one of my fondest memories of my dad is us taking a rowboat out onto the lake in Central Park NYC. it was good to see my workaholic dad have his muscles relax and his eyes slightly close as i rowed the boat..... my sister Ghenete was there too...

i feel blessed to have been able to say what i wanted to say to him before he left, to say good byes, i love yous... and i know that my own activistic ethics come from this man. And again, it was also a blessing to learn that he died with that peaceful smile on his face. that in itself has been such a cosmic affirmation. love you dad, proud of you....

love,

richard