Lost but found, again

A few days ago someone asked me if I had stopped blogging; I told them I hadn’t, but I just hadn’t written posts here for a while, though I had been offering pithy and more comments elsewhere. Then, it occurred to me that I had not seen blogs from several regular posters whom I know and had seen actively writing elsewhere. In one case, the writer did indicate that she hadn’t done certain posts in a while and promised and hoped to correct that. So, I tried to dig a little and quickly found that I couldn’t–I’d been locked out of my account. I was due to travel and planned to fix that en route, which I did after a few attempts to figure out why and how the lock had been put on. No joy, but access granted, again. But, the break from writing was not all bad.

I deliberately take such breaks, occasionally, just to let my ideas percolate without their being put out to the world; it’s another useful way to see if they have traction when they appear coming from other sources. Also, many ideas just never get old but don’t need restating–at least, not by me. I’ve been back in Jamaica long enough, now, to have a clearer sense of the cyclical nature of many of our issues, include their not being addressed–and it’s tiring. It’s one of our sad realities that many days are about pushing that boulder uphill, like Sisyphus, and seeing it roll back to the bottom so that we can try again. Many of our daily interactions can leave us wondering ‘how did we get here?’ Take an instance, last week.

I was doing some business in New Kingston and walking away from the Sagicor Building on Knutsford Boulevard. I headed towards the ramp for disabled access and just started down it, when a motorcycle bearer turned onto it and headed up. I stopped and looked at him, and asked “Really? This is not a vehicle access.” He looked at me with scorn and retorted “You could move over!” I walked on down past him and he proceeded up.

I’ve written many times about the perverse logic that many Jamaicans have that justifies what they knowingly do that is wrong. For the rider, I was at fault for not yielding to his improper use of the ramp; he say no need to apologize or better not use it.

What this signifies has sat in my head for a few days. It’s a long, hot, dry summer. I’ll keep thinking and sharing my thoughts, bit by bit.



No Written Rules Banning Sleeveless Dresses: An Access to Information Story

No Written Rules Banning Sleeveless Dresses: An Access to Information Story

— Read on rightstepsandpouitrees.wordpress.com/2018/07/14/no-written-rules-banning-sleeveless-dresses-an-access-to-information-story/

Excellent post on the baseless bind that Jamaican public institutions have created for their clients. Sadly, these essentially as hoc practices pervade the region and need to be removed.

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