Imagine if: Hi. My name is Zara. I say it to the mirror sometimes, just to hear the sound of a name that feels like it belongs to a girl I used to know. I was born here, in the heart of Jamaica, where the rhythm of the island is supposed to be in your blood. But my rhythm was dictated by the

Minenhle Bereng: Imagine if: Hi. My name is Zara. I say it to the mirror sometimes, just to hear the sound of a name that feels like it belongs to a girl I used to know. I was born here, in the heart of Jamaica, where the rhythm of the island is supposed to be in your blood. But my rhythm was dictated by the

Minenhle Bereng: Everything changed the day he finally took me to the capital to find her. We stood before a set of iron gates so tall they seemed to pierce the clouds. Beyond them sat a mansion that looked like a palace, surrounded by gardens that never saw a single weed. When the front door op