The Mad Bull’s Blog, Version 3

In Kingston, where I live, there are good areas, and there are not-so-good areas, like any other city, right? The thing about it is that the good areas tend to be surrounded by areas that aren’t so nice.

How did that come about? Most moderately well off people in Jamaica have “servants”. We call them household helpers, or gardeners. In Britain, and in the U.S., that tends to be something that only the rich enjoy.

Well, middle class people started moving out of the city center, just as they do everywhere else, thus creating the suburbs… Since these people want help around the house, when they moved, a poorer set of people would eventually settle nearby. These people would then offer their labour as household helpers or gardeners or washing ladies or cooks… you get the picture, right? Over time, these not so good areas have also given rise to thieves and gunmen. And as I said, a lot of these nice upscale residential areas are just next door to an area which I would describe as “not so nice”. There is more if you want to read it…

At the same time that this was happening, the city center was abandoned by the well-to-do. When they left, the whole city center became rundown. The buildings ceased to be maintained and more and more, anybody who could move out did. Now, all that is left there is the poorest of the poor, living in substandard housing, having substandard infrastructure. Not surprisingly, these areas have given rise to gunmen and drug dealers also.

Over the years, the police have sort of abandoned these areas. The focus seems to me to be more about protecting the rights and property of the people who live uptown from those who live downtown. As a result, the police seem to have abandoned the people who live in these inner city areas.

Into that void moved the “Don” or “Area Leader”. This essentially is a bad man who is canny enough and strong enough to come to lead all the other bad men in a particular area… Thus we speak of the “Matthews Lane Don”, who controls the heart of downtown, or the Don of Tivoli, who is supposed to control the area directly to the west of the city center…

These people take over the sale and distribution of drugs. They distribute their ill-gotten gains in a manner similar to Robin Hood from the Sherwood Forrest. They grow in influence and power, until they even begin to dispense justice in those areas.

Nowadays, they have even begun to challenge the people who really control power in the country - the wealthy and their lackeys, the Government. Thus we hear of the protection rackets the big merchants face downtown, or in Grants Pen… We hear how particular Members of Parliament who control the so-called “garrison” communities have lost control. The Dons seem to have taken over.

Everyday, people like these begin to impinge more and more upon the lifestyles of people like me. People who have been born into better circumstances. Our parents were comparatively well off. We have decent schooling… We work for and earn reasonable standards of living. But the hooligans encroach daily…

As and example, I have mentioned before that my father is in the construction industry. He got a contract to do the roof of a large factory in the Spanish Town Road Area . (yes, a shotta community ) While he was at the site one day, he was approached by a gunman from the area. The gunman wanted my Dad to put him on his payroll. He wanted to come and collect his pay on Fridays… only one hitch… He didn’t want to have to do any work! My Dad says he told him that he didn’t pay anyone that didn’t work for the money. He said the gunman looked at one of his foremen and said “Him nuh know who me is?!? Tell him who me is nuh!“. (Obviously this fool doesn’t know who I am. Tell him who I am, please!)

My Dad can be a bit pig headed sometimes. He said he continued to refuse to pay for work not done. The gunman probably looked at him and said to himself that it might be too dangerous to pump the little uptown brown man full of lead, so they arrived at a compromise… The gunman sent one of his bwoys (contemptuous name for somebody he could control) to do the work, and the gunman collected his bwoy’s pay on Fridays.

People like me are forced to react in some way to the impositions of the bad men in our city. We try our best to ignore it, and hope for the best… We either batten down and barricade ourselves in fortresses not unlike Helm’s Deep… We hire private security guards and security companies… We get panic buttons… or we go the other route - we simply leave! We migrate in search of greener pastures. For the most part, this is how we live in Kingston. The rest of Jamaica is not nearly so bad. Indeed, many suggest that Jamaica would be SO IRIE if only we could build a high, high wall between Kingston and the rest of Jamaica. This is the story of Jamaica today.

Where will it all end?

Tags: Things Jamaican //