Happy Friday

Tags

Children, Education, Jamaica, Social issues, Sports development, The Bahamas

Without a doubt, Jamaica is a country of dramatic contrasts. If I look back at my own writing this week, I can easily trace the things that have frustrated me, but even in that I can find much to like. Many days leave me with nothing but a head that is shaking in wonderment. But, many days also leave me with a warm feeling that comes from feeling so much pride for the people around me. How can that be?, I sometimes ask myself.

Today, my daughter’s school was hosting the latest leg of an inter-school sports festival. About six schools were involved, including one from The Bahamas.

The children were focused on playing tennis and football today. Some elementary children were in tennis, but most children who were playing football were middle and high schoolers. The event was due to kick off at 9, and as usual, was running late. Two schools were absent at the opening presentations. Ironically, one was just adjacent to our location; the other was really just 10 minutes away.

However, I was not getting into the logistics of how and why they were late. We sang the national anthems of the two countries–each being a very melodious and moving version. I really got a think feeling in my through as I sang the Jamaican anthem. Then the games were ready to start.

All of the school had been present for the opening, and children were encouraged to come back to watch matches where the host school was playing.

It was a mixed up day, but scholastic things were still in place. My role, though a football coach, was to help sell tickets for refreshments and food; otherwise, I could sit and watch the play.

Flags and sponsors’ hoardings were all over the school grounds and it looked like a big event was underway. As always, the hands behind the scenes had worked magic to get everything looking right: tents for vendors; tents for teams; tents for spectators.

Parents started to dribble in to watch their children; never a horde, but a decent number. Not everyone can or wants to take the time off during the day. Later, as afternoon came, more parents appeared–work was ending or near to that, so a natural opening had been created. The atmosphere was not wild but had animation. Nothing untoward seemed to be going on between the schools, some of whom could harbour serious rivalries.

It was hard to see what could possibly be wrong with the country they were in, or the people with whom they shared the island. Admittedly, these were people who had been well-educated and their children, who were also getting good educations and seeming to thrive at school. Not here a cohort of potential school drop-outs, coming from homes with parents who had been school drop-outs. These are fortunate Jamaicans; privileged in a sense, but the sources of their privilege were varied.

The foreign visitors were being hosted by families from the school. The overwhelming feeling was “It is great to be in Jamaica for four days”.

They know the crime statistics, but did not seem to have any issue with being here. Some wanted to see a cricket match, if possible–20 over Test matches are going on at Sabina Park. Jamaica was for these few hours a very happy place where everyone wanted to stay.

That is what I will hold for today, sometimes labelled ‘Happy Friday’. I will not twist my mind to search for the dark and nasty and violent. It will be there for me to rediscover tomorrow.

A day in the asylum

Tags

Children, Crime, Jamaica, Mental problems, Population control, Psychological disorders, Social issues

Sometimes, the mistake made is to try to put structure onto things that don’t really have it. Life is often just a jumble of events and making sense of it is not possible. Today has been one of those day when so many thoughts have gone through my mind that I can understand easily why many people wander around bewildered–about their own lives and about the lives of those around them. So, with no attempt to structure the thoughts, they will flow.

Murder most heinous: beheading, like an animal butchered; chopped many times about the head; shot through the window of her car; kidnapped, raped and mutilated, the body strewn to be found by whoever came across it. Find the killers. Burn them. Burn their houses. Hurl stones at them. Hit them with iron pipes, till their blood spills and runs on the road like rain. Vengeance! Police! Police! Help! What a hope that would be. People who may be useful with enquiries. Hide, before they see that you are an informer. You’ll be killed as quick as you speak. Hide your head. Then, enough. March. March. Pray. March. Pray. Beg for help. Beg for deliverance.

Civil war within your midst, but you never chose sides. An enemy lurks in shadows and on street corners. Sitting in cars, gun on the belt; gun in the hand. Passing by, then bullets fly. ‘Gang-related’ we hear about nearly 2 of every three killings. So many gangs, how can they get recruits who are ready to die. Civil war being waged. But, one side has no arms, no soldiers. The other, coming trampling like the original Thugees; living amongst the people, like ordinary neighbours, but just waiting to kill to gain control.

Imagine, your house, your home, becoming a commodity for which you have to pay in order to continue living as if it’s your home. So offensive an idea. Reminds me of the way that invading soldiers during the Second World War would commandeer property and take over lives.

Nazi soldiers show who is in control of occupied country.

They had the force, so they had the rights. Come, pay homage! ‘Big man’, ‘Don’, ‘Capo’, ‘Godfather’. Pay respects: one for me, half for you; two for me, half for you; three for me, half for you. Squeeze! Survival? That’s your problem, poor wretch. Uneducated. Uninformed. Dependent. Always the victims. Always.

“Don’t drive through Mountain View; it’s a volatile area. But, all of east Kingston is volatile. How do people who need to go to St. Thomas reach there? Take a boat, and bypass? How do travellers to the Norman Manley International Airport get there? Take helicopter. Those people have enough money. They are the ones who take the food from the poor. Clichés. Need someone to blame.

How many children do you have? Five, sir. All the same father? No, sir; five different fathers. Are any of the fathers living with you? No, sir: all of them are in prison. It’s just me to look after the children. I have no job, sir, but I hustle downtown, selling cigarettes and sweeties. Let’s tie your tubes and stop you having any more children. You’re a burden. They’re a burden. The fathers are a burden.  You’re living lives that make no sense. Chinese investors will be our hope and answer all our prayers. We should learn from how they reached where they are.

One child policy

You are getting what you deserve. A wretched life, for a wretched people. Did you vote? I did. I didn’t. Half cared enough. Half were scared. Half didn’t see the point. Half hoped to get work for voting–politicians promised us jobs. Well, no jobs. There’s a world recession. Haven’t you heard? Half didn’t need to; they have friends and friends of friends, and good friends and good school friends, and college friends. Everyone’s so friendly in Jamaica. Don’t it?

A learnèd professor tells us that one million Jamaicans have personality disorders. No kidding! Hold on. How many? We have a population of just under three million. So…about one-in-three persons is a little off their rockers? More or less. It all starts to make sense now. We’re in a mental asylum. The cuckoo’s nest. Some of us get to walk around the gardens and smell the flowers. Go to play cards and other games with our friends. We sit at meals alone or with some people we see, barely recognizing some, thinking we recognize others. Babbling to be heard as the orderly throws some slops in our direction. No one knows what they did to get placed here, but that’s what is happening. It’s just a big madhouse.

All the talk we hear are voices in our heads. Close your ears. “War against crime…” “Community policing…” “Increasing resources…” “Street patrols…” “We will find the killers…” The noise! They make no sense. The voices. La-la-la-la. Can’t hear you!

Houdini in his strait jacket

“Tommy? Can you hear me? You’re sweating. Were you having a nightmare?” You look up at the face of the nurse and doctor. Hypodermic needle in hand. You see the serum. Will it be calming? Take away the pain? “Relax. It will be alright.” That’s all they ever say.

The objects of our desires

Tags

Caribbean, Children, Economic issues, Jamaica, Sex, Social issues

The Caribbean in general, and Jamaica is no exception, is a place of much muddled thinking. Currently, we are grappling with what seems to be a wave of sex offences, notably including children, especially girls.

Yet, this region loves to make women sex objects. In the short time since coming back to Jamaica, I’ve been struck by how commonplace that is. Have a product to promote or sell? Find some beautiful young women and dress them skimpily, then spread liberally around. Voila! Hit event.

I’m not going to lay blame on ‘dance hall’, but show me where women gyrating sexily is not a constant image. This is with or without a male prop.

Carnival-style fêtes are similar in terms of what passes for dancing.
The recent brouhaha in Jamaica over videos featuring teenagers, sometimes with adults, involved in sexual acts is just ‘more of the same’. That coming months after another viral video of school children in Maggotty showing that they know ‘the moves’ and ‘the grooves’.

What Jamaica experiences is similar in other islands. Yesterday’s Gleaner screamed about the number of sexual offences and the high proportion involving minors. Trinidad’s PM went on the warpath over her country’s tolerance of such things, proposing fines for non-reporting.

We are what we tolerate. Practice makes perfect. We reap what we sow.

Leaving on a jet plane. Are we there, yet?

Tags

Children, Informal economy, Island Grill, Montego Bay, Music, Norman Manley International Airport, Travel

Blame me! My little daughter is becoming a good observer of people and more. We were travelling through Norman Manley International Airport (NMIA, to its friends) yesterday. Airports are great for people-watching and seeing how people just mess up things. On the messing up, NMIA has the unfortunate distinction of being better known by its often misspelled name: check the entries under Normal Manley International Airport. As good an eggcorn as I need to read.

We like NMIA, though. It’s been upgraded recently, and we were enjoying its ‘deliverables’. We enjoy it, not least because it has the best food for travellers, coming from Jamaica’s own Island Grill chain: tasty, cheap, and filling are what most travellers want, and get there. We had come straight from school and were early for our departure, so she tucked into a fish sandwich combo with mango peach drink, and I ate a chicken fricassee yabba, regular, all for less than US$10 equivalent.

We had been waiting a while before we were allowed to board. As we stood at the head of the line, we read the large poster put up by the airport authority with ’20 interesting facts about Jamaica’. Interesting yes, but facts?

Hmm. We noted that it had been put up when Usain Bolt had only 3 Olympic medals. We wondered if updating was not part of the budget. Shame, we thought. We noted that it mentioned the Manchester Golf Club as having the ‘oldest hotel in the western world. Eh? Shamer. They mean golf course. Who did the fact checking? I pointed out to my daughter the fact about ‘it’s inhabitants’: that should be ‘its’, Daddy. (School is paying off.) Shamest.

As we prepared to board the plane to Montego Bay (MoBay), my child noticed two women standing behind us. “They’re twins…Both have the same weave. They have on matching leggings and tops,” my daughter stated, confidently. Children spot people’s physical features and clothing quickly. I pointed out that they were not wearing the same type of suede shoes: “But, they’re both wearing boots,” she retorted, quickly. We wondered why they were going to MoBay. As we moved through the first check, one of the ladies said to the other at the top of the escalator “Mek sure yu ha one foot pon di step,”; her friend was clearly stepping into new territories. The ladies proceeded to the gate, ahead of us, then made a huge fuss about the lateness of the plane’s departure. We were still ahead of time, but it seemed that we would not take off on time. A mechanic explained that the plane had come from “Up deh…an a ‘hole ‘eap a snow an’ ice deh ’bout.” The plane had needed to be washed down after being de-iced. Did the ladies want to fly with the risk of not making it? It had also been fully cleaned: “De peeple dem eat an’ leave all a dem nas’iness. You don’t want dat!” The ladies seemed mollified. As we went to the airbridge, one of the ladies was pulled over for ‘secondary screening’: welcome to air travel. We passed them, then pretended to complain, too, and raised a few smiles as we strolled onto the plane.

When we got to MoBay, the two ladies followed us from Immigration to the baggage claim carousel. A man then asked them how they knew this was the right one. They told him they didn’t know, they’d just chosen one with some people standing around. Again, clearly newbee travellers. As the bags began to roll around the belt, and were being cleared, I saw one of the ladies haul a huge cloth suitcase off, then haul off another. Higglers (vendors), I thought. If you’re not familiar with Jamaica’s street or market traders, get a funny insight by watching clips for a play. I speculated about what they had in the bags. I presumed they were headed to MoBay to take advantage of the many visitors there this weekend for the annual jazz and blues festival, which has been running since 1996, and draws much attention from Jamaican and foreign fans. It’s an expensive event, by Jamaican standards–cheapest ticket is US$50 (and it’s to be paid in US dollars). But, that should mean some deep-pocketed potential buyers. The informal market at work on the island: where there’s a crowd, look for opportunities to sell your wares.

My wife/my mother was in Mobay for a work event and staying at one of the fancy north coast hotels. The hotel staff greeted us at the airport and arranged our ‘transfer’ to the hotel. “Have I been here, before, Daddy?” my daughter asked, as we left the airport. I told her she had, but when she was much younger. “It looks familiar,” she said as we drove on a piece of road on which she’d never travelled. The van driver told us that the city was busy because of this week’s jazz and blues festival, and that some celebrities may be staying at our hotel. My daughter was really enjoying her latest taste of good living and we joked that the driver did not realise that he had ‘celebs’ in the van with him 🙂 She took it to heart by trying out her impersonation of Jamaica’s PM, Mrs. Portia Simpson-Miller, waving her hand in regal fashion and saying “My people…”, one of the PM’s signature phrases. I cracked up: it was pretty good. She kept on saying it as we reached the hotel, and were greeted by a bellman.

It had taken us just over 4 1/2 hours to get from her school to the hotel, by plane. I told my daughter that it would have taken about the same amount of time to have driven. But, we were not exhausted from the drive, which we could do another time when we had more days to play with. “No problem with tiredness on the drive: I’d have slept,” came the nonchalant reply. Therein, lies some of the fun of travelling a lot with children. We know how to make the time pass on journeys. Well, sometimes.

Give me the other side: a view of public expression

Tags

All Angles, Children, Jamaica, Media, Sexual behaviour

A basic problem facing Jamaica is that major issues are not discussed from anything like the same view-point. Last night, I watched a very informative discussion on TVJ’s All Angles, about recent revelations on video of teenagers engaging in sexual activity (sometimes, with adults). The studio audience included a head boy and head girl from two well-known and prestigious Kingston schools, plus a student from the University of the West Indies, plus some adults with expertise in the field of child counselling, etc. What struck me was how this discussion went on with much intelligence and understanding of what issues teens may be facing, yet had no representative of the ‘target’ group (I’m struggling for a word).

Those who do not have the behavioural problem being discussed can air their views, but they may well be talking past those who appear to have a problem. I yearned to hear from a young girl or boy who had engaged in the sexual behaviour. Clearly, when society is looking at what it has called deviant behaviour–and I use the term with no moral judgment, but just to position the argument–it can be difficult to get the deviant people to express themselves in a way that clearly exposes themselves. Much deviant behaviour is done out of sight, usually in the hope that it will not be exposed. Many people, however, get to hear or see the behaviour because attention is often sought, as part of the ‘fun’. But, we still need to try.

In our televisual age, we expect to see everything. I would be content, however, if I could hear (or even have someone read a testimonial) from those being discussed. The speculation about the whys and hows would then have more validity. The head boy telling us that he tries to be a role model is laudable, but clearly others have found and followed role models who are not ‘head boy material’. Do those people know or care about the so-called good role models?

We’ve put out many ideas and images that suggest that certain adult lifestyles can be part of ‘living the life’, but for many children it’s not clear that much of society disapproves. (I listen to the radio, and even on stations which state that they are about ‘consciousness’ and ‘good attitude’ put out music with messages about youths engaging in sexual activity.) So, when certain acts or words are part of popular culture, and easily accessible, how will young people know that society wants a line drawn that excludes children from copying such behaviour? Talking about the need for better parenting is all well and good, but it’s not going to happen because a panel of well-educated, articulate, and (let’s say) well-adjusted persons tell us that it’s needed. If some people are doing it because they feel it is a road to something worthwhile, I’d like to hear that. If parents are procuring their children in sexual activity to put money on the table, there may be embarrassment of shame involved in sharing that information, but we need to know those circumstances. It’s not about trying to justify, but to better understand.

I think it will be hard to get the target group to stand up or sit down and talk with the same freedom, not least because they have to believe that exposure will not lead to total condemnation. If they enjoy and value what they are doing, we really need to understand from them what is driving them toward what the rest of us think is the wrong direction. Second- or third-hand views don’t do that.

Bully beef: heavy-handedness, Jamaican-style

Tags

Children, Discipline, Education, Public policy, Social issues

The past few days have brought up instances of something that seems common when dealing with social problems in Jamaica. Let’s call it the ‘big stick’ approach. Whatever the transgression, the most extreme solution gets preference.

I addressed the way that illegal street vendors were treated–their stalls were broken down.

Yesterday, I noted a recurrent discussion, about lateness at school; it surfaced some months ago with some schools in Kingston. Common solution: lock out the students. The National Parent-Teachers’ Association of Jamaica takes issue with this practice. Education Minister, Rev. Ronald Thwaites, has also called for schools to stop locking out students. Why cannot it be made mandatory that schools not do this? 

What do the schools expect when children are then left to fend for themselves for the duration of the school day? Let’s think. They get up to…mischief. (A flurry of sex videos made people shudder when seeing some of the mischief—made easier when kids are locked out of school.) They become prey to others who need some young bodies for tasks (these need not all be bad, but we know that a lot of sinister things can be done). They may not be reachable by their parents (not everyone has a cell phone): normally, issues at school can be addressed by trying to contact parents; parents can raise issues with schools that affect their children. Educational opportunity is lost.

Travel is not simple in Jamaica, and it’s hard for children, who do not have special transport to/from school. They generate lower fares and can often be left behind by some public transporters in favour of adult passengers. Children do not have the means to control all of their movements. I just met some parents bringing children to school late; in every case, it was the parents’ fault. Should children suffer for the fault of their adult caregivers?

Other than locking students out, does it take a rocket scientist to come up with other solutions that would still provide a ‘safe environment’ and ensure that chances to learn are not lost completely?

Is it too difficult to let late students enter late, join their next class, record the lateness on their official school record, and let that count against the student in final assessments? Any mitigating circumstances can be noted, and need to be attested by a 3rd party, but would not expunge the late record. Admittedly, students who are habitually late tend to have other academic negatives on their record and this may compound that, but it can be part of a ‘warning system’ about students’ vulnerabilities. Yes, it will take time and people to address the problems, and parents, teachers and students will need to talk about what is going wrong.

If I arrive late for a doctor’s appointment, would it be reasonable to lock me out for the day? If the doctor arrives late for an appointment, should he/she be locked out and not be able to perform duties?

Yes, timeliness in important in our society. However, the cost of it should be proportionate to what is being lost by lateness. If I’m late for a flight, I miss it. I can try to get the next flight, and that may be anything from a few hours to a few days. It’s costly to change tickets and costly in terms of what I lose by being late. I will try not to be late, but sometimes I cannot control the flow of events.

But, guess, what? Just slamming the door and turning people away is easy. Lazy, did you say?

Note, too, that this is another instance of how adults want to treat children in a less tolerant way than they would treat other adults. Are teachers who are late for school also locked out? Do employers routinely lock out employees who are late for work? Replace them, maybe, in time; sanction them in some other way, too, is the norm.

Discipline is learning to do the right thing without being told. It is not about being punished.

The good, the bad, and the ugly (January 26)

Tags

Bustamante Children's Hospital, Charity, Children, Education, Jamaica, Music, Olympic Games, Shaggy, Sport

Good

The Shaggy Make a Difference Foundation has donated the proceeds from the Shaggy and Friends charity concert on January 4, totalling J$70 million (about US$700,000), to the Bustamante Hospital for Children. (Press reports indicate that private donors included DJ Squeeze of Linkup Radio, who gave J$1 million, and athlete Yohan Blake, who also pledged J$1 million. Other donations included US$20,500 from Food For the Poor as well as J$389,200 via the Digicel Text line. Corporate donations included J$3.75 Million from SportsMax and Jamaica National Building Society, which handed over US$8,110 after a pledge to donate US$1 from the proceeds of each money transfer from the United States to Jamaica between January 2 to 15.)

Bad

Press commentary about a report on Education and Crime was shoddy and unfair in referring to ‘prison schools’ and suggesting a causal relationship between school attended and likelihood of imprisonment. Government reaction, notably by the Minister of Education, to criticisms of the report were also casual. Not surprisingly, many teachers have reacted negatively to the report and commentaries.

Ugly

An 18 year-old black South African skier, Sive Speelman, from a poor, rural area in the Eastern Cape where it snows, has qualified for the coming winter Olympics in slalom. But…the South Africa’s national Olympic committee has decided that Speelman isn’t good enough, so denied him the chance to compete. This move has been criticized in South Africa and abroad. Speelman is outside the top 2000 but amassed enough points to gain eligibility to compete in the Olympics. In the association’s words, it wants “to ensure participation…is of the highest quality…unfortunately will not be delivering (sic) him to the Winter Olympic Games.”

Putting life into a cliché: children are our future

Tags

Children, Christmas, Heritage, Human relationships

My youngest daughter, all 10 years of her, sometimes encapsulates good sentiments in a way that is so pleasingly simple.

This child is a great blend of a certain kind of diversity. Her parents are from different countries. Her half-sisters were born in different countries; they look very different. She has  spent most of her life living outside the country of her birth, but also living in countries to which she can claim some strong ancestral links. She speaks one language fluently, and two others reasonably well. She embraces all aspects of her family history, as far as she can capture it.

She’s lucky enough to be living in Jamaica, the country where her father was born–not that of her birth, which he left for half a century and to which he returned a few months ago. Due to sad circumstances, she has her paternal grandfather living in her house, convalescing. Nice to be living near grandpa, whatever. She gets to see the wonderful landscape of that island, and sample some of the family and cultural connections that surround her.

Last year, she went to a family reunion to Grand Bahama, where her maternal grandfather’s family gathered. She spent days enjoying cousins she had never met before. It was a first reunion for her.

She spent the past summer on a small island in The Bahamas archipelago–Greater Inagua–from where her maternal grandmother comes; it was a family reunion on her mother’s side, the first she’d attended with them. She had a ball, seeing an island of about 1,000 people, whose economy is based on salt extraction. Apart from those on the reunion, most people seemed to be cousins or connected. The island has ruggedness throught its heart, supporting some vegetation that like dry climates. Fish abound off its coast as do conch, and we went to catch our fair share. It also hosts flamingoes, arguably the most beautiful birds on Earth. They are preserved in a national park established by one of her maternal great grand uncles.

She admires her grandmother as the matriarch of her mother’s family. The patriarch of that family, her grand uncle, born on the same island, is now an important political figure and she loves to let the world know that she is his relative. Her grandmother and grand uncle are half-brother and -sister, with the same mother (born in Haiti), but one having a Bahamian father, and the other having a Jamaican father.

“Where will the next family reunion be next year?” she asked her mother on Christmas Eve. Her mother explained that there’s no reunion every year. “Whatever. Why don’t we go to Haiti, to honour your grandmother and her family roots?” she asked. My wife nodded and agreed that was a good suggestion.

I am not sure if my daughter has a good idea about the recent earthquakes in Haiti. However, her mind has no barrier to the place.

She spent the afternoon of Christmas Eve looking at photo albums in her grandmother’s house. “She looks just like me,” was a common comment as she saw pictures of her mother and her aunts. She was the centre and they were the edges. Welcome to her world! She binds her present with their past seamlessly.

I hope that she can continue to embrace the small and big differences that come into her world.

Normal abnormality: Jamaican overview

Tags

Children, Economic issues, Education, Jamaica, Social issues, Violent crimes

I woke up ridiculously early on Sunday morning, at about 4 am. I took the opportunity to catch up on the day’s newspapers much earlier than usual, by reading them online. By 5am, I had surveyed the whole of Jamaica, as far as the two main papers wanted to report. If I was a nervous person, I should have been in a cold sweat. Why?

• The media had informed me that at least four major communities across the country were under curfew.
• Delinquent behaviour by school children, sometimes with the abetting of adults, was taking over a major bus centre in Kingston. Adult bus riders were disgusted and appalled. The ‘authorities’ seemed helpless.
• A former government minister wrote about the country’s economic woes because it had abandoned its manufacturing sector. No jobs now. No jobs later…Some future that for the young children. Delinquency has a context…
• Details of some gruesome violent crimes across the nation were thrown at me.

I felt nauseated by the time the sun was coming up.

I like my Sundays to have a certain calm, and this was not really the way to set the table.

I pondered the adages that ‘a little knowledge is a dangerous thing’ or ‘where ignorance is bliss, ’tis folly to be wise’. I knew that many people would be in church, praying for better, praying against the worst.

Was I worried about what awaited me outside in the city? Not especially. I was not blasé, but I’ve seen that the chaos is not something that is spread through every road and place. In fact, if you did not read the papers, listen to radio news, or watch the evening news broadcasts, you might never know of some of the worrying things that seem to be going on under your nose.

When I had been out on Saturday, picking up vegetables from the market and fruit from ‘my little lady’, I had nothing but a smile on my face, as I felt that life was just fine. My lady’s daughter laughed about how her brother wouldn’t help out with the fruit because his mother was at Coronation Market. The market people waited patiently for me to decide which of their offerings I wanted to buy. They tempted me with little displays of kindness. They showed me the best: “Look how the yam white!” My scandal bags were filled and I walked out into the plaza to my car. Taxi drivers were in their usual contest for fares: “Cum sista! Town? Dis one ready.”

I looked around the bustling roundabout at Papine. A line of people had formed behind a truck, as a man was passing out loaves of bread. Makes life easier than having to go to find the hot offerings in a shop. The smell did not reach me, but I imagined that noses were filled as stomachs would be soon. I did not think these were the same people who had been reduced to buying bread by the slice. Women walked past me with bags full of vegetables. Boys walked past with backpacks on their fronts, and towels on their heads to protect against the sun. Music blared out of a parked car that could barely be called that–its door was stripped of all its lining; the driver hung his foot out of the door and talked on his cell phone. Oh, the cell phone! Jamaica’s best friend forever.

I made another set of trips to the University hospital. In the day, it was very quiet–it was the weekend. You realise that the hospital is a business when you see that the car park is almost empty on a Saturday, but filled to the brim on Mondays through Fridays. The nurses all smiled. The security guards flipped between talking to each other and passers-by and checking cars, handing out the parking passes like they were fliers for some company. Those who had shade hid under it. The blistering sun in the daytime was a problem.

By nighttime, the scene had changed as all of the area around the hospital was plunged into darkness–a violent storm during the afternoon seemed to have knocked out a transformer. The hospital was not spared. Though it had lost general power, its backup usually kicked in quickly. But, not this Saturday. The wards and every corridor was in darkness. I saw people with flashlights trying to function normally. People huddled by the few emergency lamps. Others sat in darkness. In the rooms, I heard the strange conversations coming from darkened places. The lights came back…then went out again in a minute. The hospital manager was searching for a maintenance engineer: “He needs to come now!” Fortunately, my father has a battery-operated radio with a big light, in case of hurricanes or other emergencies. It was with him in hospital. For him, at least, light was not an issue. The nurses’ station had a few emergency lamps ready. The nurses wrote their notes quietly, some using the lights from their cell phones to help them see. The cell phone, again; Jamaica’s best friend forever. All of the recent discussion about a new 360 megawatt power project seemed far from relevant.

By the time that hospital visiting was over, light had returned to the hospital. As we left the area, we saw the little street vendors stalls were lit again. Young children were running in the street. The people at the bus stops now had light to see each other. The taxis were still plying for fares, and ready to pile four people onto the back seats. Ladies of the night were now visible on some corners. Life was back to normal 🙂

Bashing bashment, but not too much. Save us from another nine day wonder

Tags

Caribbean, Children, Jamaica, Moral issues, Social issues

How many times will we go through the pantomime of outrage and do nothing to truly deal with the problems? We thrive on slackness, so why are we surprised?

I’ve lost count of the number of times I have seen in Jamaica and other Caribbean countries vociferous condemnation of some social misdeed that is not new but a hardened part of national daily life. The outrage and condemnation often come in the immediate wake of some clear evidence that things have gone too far. In Jamaica’s latest case, these have been brought on by a horrific bus crash that took the lives of four high school students. Quickly, we learned that the bus drivers were reckless and delinquent, with hundreds of tickets for infractions against their names. We heard (subject to court verification) that the accident resulted from a highly dangerous overtaking maneuver. The impression is that, if at least the law had been properly applied, the culprit driver would or have been at the wheel of the bus and lives would have been saved. Now, we see some bashing of police for not policing properly, and the police bash the Ministry of Security for not monitoring tickets properly and dealing with accumulated points and removing rights to drive. Something may happen, but don’t hold your breath.

Soon afterwards, we get another periodic reminder that many school children like excitement and risky thrills. So-called ‘party buses’, with darkly tinted windows, playing raunchy music, permitting on-board sexual activity, are running wild: for a fee of some J$300-500 a person for such pleasure.

But, wait a minute! Just make a random search online and look under ‘bashment’. The first thing I saw was a letter from 2005, in a Jamaican newspaper, mentioning girls on buses without underwear. So, eight years later, we’ve not dealt with the problem, or a new generation has taken over from the graduates. It’s not genetic, so learning has had to take place.

Why are we deluding ourselves that something with which we have never dealt properly can go away?

Our culture has built up a certain love of what some people term ‘slackness’. I’m not going to blame it on dance hall because I remember this attitude being prevalent with different music genres from when I was a boy, 50 and more years ago. We like to see people mimicking sexual acts and our styles of dance interaction have always stressed close and intimate contact. We can probably recall many instances of a child mimicking such dances and more people cheering that condemning the moves. “Oh, how cute!” would be more likely. So, why the shock and outrage?

In other English-speaking Caribbean countries, we know this is also the norm with music and our adulation of children, whether it comes to the fore during Trinidad Carnival or Barbados Crop Over.

Usually, by the time such stuff hits the public at large, the thrills have moved to some other form. In Jamaica and many other countries, we have heard of children engaging in all kinds of behaviour that most parents say they disapprove, by exchanging sexually explicit messages and pictures.

The condemnation strikes me as hollow. Ministers asking for the buses to be taken off the road. Calls for students to not ride these buses. That or similar has been on the menu before. If you’ve not been raised to not do certain things, you’re not likely to change when you’re grown. So, the seeds were sown much earlier, and well nurtured through formative years, and now they are flowering. But, of we think of this like weeds, that we don’t want, well we’ve let them strangle and stifle what we wanted to see thrive. In Jamaica’s case, you can publish as many stories and picture as you like of children excelling in exams, but most people know that they are outliers at net op of a pile of children who are far from excellent, and have to been directed toward nice behaviour as opposed to nasty behaviour.

Maybe, some will argue that it’s a social class thing. Don’t believe it. The kids from ‘better homes’ just do the same stuff in nicer situations, or with nicer equipment. Mummy and Daddy may be able to offer them their own rooms and their own phones and their own iPads, etc. They may get someone to take them around in a fancy car. But, the core culture is the same. So, don’t duck for cover thinking it’s ‘those inner city people’.

I read the same newspapers which condemn and I see their putting out images without any analysis or substantive commentary. Just this week, the Gleaner thought it good to publish a large picture of two women fighting, one wielding what looked like a piece of lumber, and each pulling at the other’s hair. For what purpose? Most of the reactions I saw disapproved, but I’d say the damage was done. I got no sense what possible news value was in the image. Why not put on the same scale a woman kissing her children as they headed to school? Boring? Trash sells.

The school children and their antics are just an example of something deeper and broader that is deeply unpleasant about the society that we’ve developed. Many times it’s the ‘rules for you, but not for me’ attitude. If you can get away with it, then let it go. I can be guilty, too, but maybe not in the same areas or ways. Sometimes, it’s the more modern form of ‘turning a blind eye’. Like the three monkeys. In Jamaica, we’ve many ways to ignore the obvious at our convenience.

Don’t lose sight that we will on the one hand talk about how much we cherish our children, yet freely put them into cars without seat belts, even sitting on the driver’s lap as I’ve seen many times. Adults will disregard their safety, too. I had the temerity to tell another driver to put on her belt: at least, she did and said “Thanks.” We applaud educational successes, yet also ensure that schools cannot function, without desks, chairs, electricity, enough schools. I still cannot understand why we have schools on shift systems. We applaud out athletes, yet forget they succeed DESPITE NOT BECAUSE of the support they lack, in terms of means and facilities.

So, keep digging the holes and wondering where all the dirt is coming from. Spare me, at least, the false outrage. Call me when something is really going to happen.