Mark Wignall | Feeding the hogs boiling, hot food

BB was then my friend. Like me he was eight years old and hated one of his main evening chores; preparing hog food.

I was then this skinny ‘town boy’ living with his parents, the Wallaces and the rest of their children in a sleepy village named Clapham close to Moneague.

There was no light or running water or paved roads in Clapham. I loved living there although the mornings and late evenings were quite chilly and the mosquitoes were a constant menace.

BB would chop up various root crops and boil them in a zinc pan. Then if the process was done correctly, the food would be left to ‘cool off’ in a large wooden bowl and then the hogs would be let out of their pens to feed on the swill.

But as I said before, BB hated it. So he devised a particular way of getting back at the hogs, the times, and the chore. So BB would boil the food, pour it out in the bowl, and with the swill boiling hot, he would release the ever-hungry hogs to feed on the steamy, hot food.

The poor hogs had to be competing with each other and could hardly afford to play decent and allow others to eat first. The result was, the hogs were squealing as they gobbled up the hot food, and I was amazed as they would seemingly prefer to suffer rather than see the competition eat and leave them behind.

BB would sit on a large log and laugh at them almost burning up themselves because none of them could afford to play nice guy.

The very first time I met the Jamaica Labour Party (JLP) South West St. Catherine MP he struck me as lacking in good manners and quite at ease with being uncouth.

It was on the very day in mid-2000 that Eddie Seaga had written a letter signalling his exit as JLP leader. A party was being held at a mansion in Jack’s Hill, and by way of a telephone call I was invited. As I entered a large patio area I was handed a copy of the letter.

REASON TO CRITICISE

Seated nearby was Warmington. A few days before, I had had reason to criticise him in a newspaper column. He immediately darted from the chair and rudely grabbed the letter from my hand. What made his move so stupidly crude was that there were dozens of copies of the letter circulating at the party.

Since that time I have found that the controversial member of parliament has a certain.comfort level in competing with himself in trying to determine his crudest side and then to reside in that space.

That he is leaving representational politics is quite pleasing to those who have long put up with his bad manners. His recent racial outbursts in criticising PNP leader Mark Golding on his skin colour may not necessarily be grounded in skin colour per se as it is just another opportunity for him to be rude and crude and pat himself on the back for enjoying another display of the misunderstood noises and the urges driving him on another self-destruct mission.

POLICE WORK BROADER

The young sergeant was clean shaven and his uniform fitted him like a managing director headed to a board room meeting.

I was in his office last Thursday morning. “Mr. Wignall, if someone in the area gets sick they call the police because Jamaica has never had a workable ambulance system.

“There are times when schools are experiencing social problems with students that are not overtly behavioural. We get calls to come into assist. A dried tree limb falls. The people call the police. A fire is on a light post and you may find this hard to believe: they call the police.”

He saw the look of utter surprise on my face. “Yes, they call us. And as you can see as you look around, we are under resourced. The space for prisoners is too small. The computer is old and slow. The printer has to be primed to work.”

He is bright and well educated and I ask myself why he is where he is. But without even asking, I can tell that he loves his job.

“A few years ago there was this mystique about the JDF. It could do no wrong. With the many ZOSOs and states of emergency, the soldiers are more exposed to the people. And what happens. They are not trained for it, and the population have begun to treat the army boys like how they treat us at times. It can get quite chaotic.”

The outside of the yard is packed with wrecked cars. ‘There is no space to stash those wrecks until they can be cleared. In the meantime we have to solve man-and-woman problems. Lovers wounding each other, petty thieves, robbers, and at times, we have to step in to try and lessen the carnage on the road.”

“Why do you stay in it?” I ask.

He doesn’t hesitate. “I am a believer, and I share the view that one day soon, if all of us band together, it can get better.”‘

CAN POLITICIANS MOULD OUR CHILDREN?

If our children could look up to someone like Everald Warmington and find reason to follow his words, what would they become?

Certainly, worse than they are now. I wanted to give a name to the bright young cop I spoke to, but he gave me no such permission because he wanted to speak freely.

But it seemed to me that the policeman was adequately placed where he was. Doing as best as he could and being given big respect by the younger colleagues on his charge.

One of Mr Warmington’s colleagues offered me a very cynical view of his. “Warmy doesn’t care for much outside of his constituents. And every now and then he says things that we only think about.”

That I find quite scary.

Mark Wignall is a political and public affairs analyst. Send feedback to columns@gleanerjm.com and mawigsr@gmail.com.