Growing up in the UK with Jamaican roots meant living in two worlds at once. It’s a strange kind of cultural passport — one that gives you a front-row seat to British life while still being anchored deeply in the rhythms, food, language, and values of Jamaica. The journey from Brixton to Kingston is more than a flight path. It's a story of movement, of memory, of ambition, and sometimes, disappointment. It’s also a story of investment — in homes, in heritage, and in hope.
I remember the UK fondly. My childhood was filled with the sights and sounds of places like Stoke Newington, Tottenham, and, of course, Brixton. These weren’t just locations; they were cultural landmarks — hubs of the Afro-Caribbean experience in London. Even now, I can hear the echoes of community halls filled with music, the laughter of aunties, and the smoky aromas of Jamaican food cooked with love for another christening or wedding. At one point, it felt like we had a celebration every week — if it wasn’t a baby blessing, it was a birthday or just a good old-fashioned lime.
My father, like many men of that generation, was a lover of music. I often wonder if that’s why we seemed to be at every event. The Afro-Caribbean Centres were like second homes — I must have visited at least 15 growing up. Tottenham had one. Stoke Newington had a few. Brixton, of course, had several. Peckham too. These spaces were where our culture came alive. Where “Uncle” and “Auntie” didn't always mean blood relations, but were words of respect — ties formed through shared struggles and triumphs as immigrants in a new world.
Remembering Oliver
Those memories were also shaped by what we saw on screen. I can’t talk about growing up without mentioning Oliver at Large — the classic Jamaican comedy series starring the late great Oliver Samuels. Watching episodes of Oliver bundling himself up at the airport in earmuffs and oversized coats to head to “foreign” — often a place like Brixton — was comedy gold. But beneath the laughs, it struck a chord. It brought my parents a bit closer to Jamaica. It reminded them that their experience — leaving home to build a life in a foreign land — was shared, and that they weren't alone.
Oliver may have been acting, but the truth was real. When someone left Jamaica back in the day, you’d often hear, “Mi deh go Brixton,” or “Is Stoke Newington mi a go.” It was almost a rite of passage. And these weren’t random destinations. These were strongholds of the Jamaican diaspora — places where a friend of a cousin or a cousin of a friend could give you a start.
The Windrush Generation and Real Estate Legacy
Many of those who arrived during the Windrush era and beyond didn’t come with riches, but they brought resilience. They took jobs others didn’t want — cleaning streets, working on buses, in hospitals, in factories — and they pooled their resources. One of the most powerful tools of that time was “partner” — a traditional Jamaican savings system where each person contributes a fixed amount regularly, and one by one, each person takes the lump sum. That partner money helped many buy homes outright. Often, these were the big Victorian or Edwardian homes in areas like Islington, Stoke Newington, or Maswell Hill. Four-storey properties with basements. Real homes.
Today, we talk about gentrification like it's a new concept, but the shift is striking. Areas that were once seen as “too black” or “too run down” are now prime real estate zones. Brixton, for example, has seen its property prices triple or quadruple. With a few station upgrades and some rebranding, what was once a working-class Jamaican area is now overrun with trendy coffee shops and organic wine bars. And most of the children of those original homeowners? They can’t afford to live there anymore — unless they’ve done exceptionally well.
The Return Home — Dreams and Disappointments
But the story doesn’t end there. Many of our parents and grandparents didn’t just work to build a life in the UK. They dreamed of returning home to Jamaica — of building something there. A big house on the hill. A return to warmth, not just in weather, but in spirit. They built with ambition: four, six, sometimes even 16-bedroom houses. Why? Because they wanted to come home in style. They wanted to have enough space for all their children and grandchildren. They wanted to make a statement: “Mi come back.”
Some of these investments paid off. But many didn’t. Builders ran off with money. Paperwork wasn’t in order. Land disputes. Family fallouts. Others returned to a country that didn’t always welcome them the way they had imagined. Their English accents were mocked, their expectations misunderstood. They were seen as "foreigners" in the land they never stopped calling home.
And then there were those children who never came. The houses stood empty or half-built. Or they were passed down to relatives who didn’t maintain them. Some were sold far below value. Others were lost in probate limbo.
A New Generation, A New Strategy
And this is where my journey — our journey — picks up again. You see, I’ve walked both sides of this road. I’ve lived in the UK. I’ve lived in Jamaica. I’ve seen the good, the bad, and the rough in-between. I’ve watched generations invest with heart but not always with strategy. And now, as a real estate professional with deep Jamaican roots and UK insight, I offer this advice:
Invest smart.
Jamaica is full of opportunities, but gone are the days of building 10-bedroom mansions just for show. Today, it's about strategy. Whether you’re investing for income or settling into a forever home, know the difference. A home is personal. An investment is financial. The mindset you need for each is completely different.
As the old saying from every British property programme goes: location, location, location. In Jamaica, that’s even more true. Is the area safe? Is it growing? Are there schools, hospitals, roads? Is the land titled and registered properly? Will the home bring you peace or problems?
You Inherit. You Invest. You Decide.
Many of you reading this are the children or grandchildren of that first migration wave. You’ve inherited property. You’ve inherited stories. Maybe you’re looking to sell. Or maybe you want to rebuild. Maybe you’re tired of the back and forth and just want clarity.
I’m here for that.
I’ve lived the life. I’ve had the hard conversations. I’ve carried the weight of navigating two cultures, two economies, and two real estate systems. I’ve got the scars to prove it. But those scars? They’ve become my tools. My guideposts. And now, I use them to help you.
Whether you want to:
- Sell a family home that no one is using
- Buy land in a prime area before the prices shoot up
- Rebuild or renovate a property that means something to your family
- Make your return to Jamaica, but with better insight than your parents had
...I’ve got you.
From Brixton to Kingston — It’s More Than a Journey
This series, Brixton to Kingston, is more than nostalgic storytelling. It’s a bridge. A way to make sense of where we came from and where we’re going. We are the children of dreamers. Some dreams came true. Some didn’t. But now it's our turn to shape the legacy.
So, whether you’re in the UK, the US, Canada, or here in Jamaica — just know this:
You’re not alone.
You don’t have to repeat the mistakes.
You can honour the past while building a smarter future.
And I’m here to help.
Let’s walk this road together.
— Dean Jones
Real Estate Professional | Founder of Jamaica Homes | Son of Windrush | Bridging Diasporas