Cananapo!
I had not planned on writing a post for Jamaica Blog Day. My blog
is dedicated to the 8ths of the month. But, one and two times in the early
years, I’d missed and posted on the 19th. So, I imagine, an
extraordinary post on the 23rd won’t kill me.
Speaking of killing. That's what the first annual Jamaica Blog Day is
doing – speaking of unlawful and unnecessary use of force and unlawful killings by members
of the security forces in Jamaica. (By the way, would a change in name, to, say, Jamaica Police Service, help any? (Nuh badda cue the JPS jokes now.) Could that help to drive home the idea to many new enlistees what the membership should be about. Thoughts?)
I have never been abused by a member of the security forces
in Jamaica. I don’t feel special about that. It just is what it is. I am,
however, thankful. Folks can always talk about what and what they would or
wouldn’t do if they ever found themselves in this or that situation. Monday morning
quarterbacks and veranda commentators abound. All I know is that, based on the
record of killings and instances of abuse committed by some members of the
force, I am thankful not to have had that experience. I can hear somebody
saying, “Knock on wood” or, “Don’t talk too soon.” Mi nah knock pon nuh wood.
In a conversation with sis @MizDurie, (her #JaBlogDay post here), I mentioned that the
incessant focus and messaging that Jamaicans for Justice (JFJ) has maintained on
this issue has likely reached the point of "noise". Y’know? As children we used
to call it “static” when JBC used to sign off and so-so rice grain come on the
screen? Kinda like that. It’s present
but, to a large extent, the volume isn’t deafening anymore. And, to an extent, we
have tuned out. The occurrences are no less abhorrent, but, for myriad reasons,
our attention span has significantly declined. That’s why I think this thrust via social media – blogs
- and the extended arm of Twitter – is a timely one. It’s not an aleatory twist that the
movement has been birthed on Labour Day.
Living away from Jamaica – residing in the US and in Canada –
has inevitably helped shaped my perspectives on a number of things. There was a
particular notion that I struggled with for a while. And, it was frustrating to no
end as I could not put what I was feeling into the appropriate words. Ever get
that? One day, as I read a comment on an article, it helped. Before I get to
that, though, let me share this piece first.
A few years ago, I was walking along Bay Street downtown Toronto one morning on my way
to work. I heard a man at the top of his lungs saying words that I couldn’t
quite then make out. As I got closer, I noticed he had a placard hung around
his neck as he paced the walkway along City Hall. His words became clearer and
clearer: “Write to your MPPs! The only way these things will change is if they
legislate! Legislate! Legislate!” Now, Queen Park/Legislative Assembly is a few
blocks up the road. But, I figured that he probably hadn’t secured permission
to carry out his action on the grounds of QP.
Can I tell you? When I heard the man’s cries, as Miss Lou sang, “water
come a mi eye.” I felt a pang of longing for the advancement of Jamaica that I
had never felt before. For, why on earth
could Jamaica not be like this?! Why did many people have to, or feel that they have to, resort to crass-like behaviour,
jumping up and down on TV, just to get their points across to MPs for whatever
the problem – road, water, tax…? The answer came. Education. And, self-respect. If ours was an educated
society, we would know that we should
expect better from those in public office; demand more when they carry out
mediocre work; hold them accountable and demand answers when they fail to carry
out their obligations. We’re not expecting miracle workers in public office. We
should expect them to put Jamaica – and not their party, nor themselves – first. And, because we’d have a thinking, and self-respecting, society,
they wouldn't dare expect that they would be ushered back into office come
election time.
But, our politicians, and those who somehow benefit from the
illiteracy of “the voting masses” would rather not have that, you see. I am
convinced of that. Why would they want to change the status quo when it would
likely mean that they’d be ushered out of power quick o’clock? So, in lieu of
long term and far-reaching help – to educate and empower communities – it’s a concrete
wall here; a plate of food there… And the voting masses are somehow left with the
impression that their interest is at heart; that the money they receive through
remittances plus a superficial glamour-look and feel, fed by a steady (North) American diet of fashion and other pop culture, is
the shizzle!
Enter the notion I had struggled to put into words: First World
lifestyle on Third World mentality. Like putting a coat of paint on a rusty car. We have all the trappings and accouterments of ‘foreign’, but, when it comes down to the substance of what would make Jamaica "the place of choice to live, work, raise families and do business"? As my grandmother used to say, “Cananapo!” (read: all now, not a word!) Because, explain to me, for example, these allegations by citizens, of how police officers chose to discharge their weapons. ("Dem put the guns over the zinc (fence) and start firing," she alleged.)
How so many killings by members of security forces could go “jus
soh”? In many developed countries, swift disciplinary action under the
provisions of the governing Act is one thing; criminal charge is another.
And the deafening silence of those “in charge” (quotation
marks intended), is yet another. In
some countries? The minister would feel so ashamed that he or she would resign.
But no. No one is willing to expend political capital to tackle this. And,
neither will they pack their bags and go.
We have a role to play, too. It starts in the mind. If it is
not at peace, sometimes, all hell will break loose. It is in
the perception of, and respect for, self. It is what Scripture Willy, when I was
in second form at Wolmer’s Girls, called “respect for life.” Also, it comes
from an understanding that we deserve better from those we put to lead us; from
an understanding that, if we do not do something about this haemorrhaging, we
might not have anybody to turn to and to speak for us if our time should come.
And, if this continues, for many, it’s simply a matter of
when.
Claudia
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Enter the notion I had struggled to put into words: First World lifestyle on Third World mentality.
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