Mark Wignall | Strong survival urges

The American Embassy sits strong and secure just south of the well-known community of Standpipe. A part of the view from the entrance walls, where the embassy intersects with many Jamaicans seeking visitor visas, leads ones eyes to the offices and home of the late Dr Lloyd Cole.

Some will remember that Dr Cole took it on himself to mount an annual fête for the children of the surrounding community. And Dr Cole would strategically involve sponsors to ensure the continuation of the annual event.

On the outer walls of where the GP practised is painted the following: ‘Vox Populi, Vox Dei’ – ‘The voice of the people is the voice of God.’

Lloyd and I could never found agreement on the essence of that saying in the five or six times we sat and talked about many things.

The people from the communities close to the embassy have created an ‘industry’ around the business model and the security practices.

In its simplest form, no visitor can enter the embassy with a cell phone. I would imagine that motor vehicle drivers would keep them in locked vehicles.

A few shops across the road offer the services of selling mobile-phone calls. Just in case you have just exited the embassy and need to make an urgent call.

Secure parking in the proximity of the embassy is not cheap. $1,200. $1,500. And it may be 50 metres away.

Outside on the street, unless one is in uniform, it is difficult to tell who is directly carrying out the embassy’s work and who is a community hustler directing one to ‘di 7:30 line over there’ and ‘stay right here until dem come to yu.’

For convenience, across the road are little shops selling your daily fix of numbers and telling you exactly what your dream really means. At little one-room outlets where hot beer and heated rum sells, the information mill is invaluable. ‘Is not everybody I would do it for, but if you want I will keep your phone for you. Only $500.’

TOURISM HOT IN THE POT

Long before Ed Bartlett took tourism to stratospheric levels, he had kept his head as the industry nosedived during the worst of COVID-19 in 2020-2021.

But even before that, tourism harassment has attached itself to those trying to earn a living by selling craft items on the street side and in the markets.

From what I am gleaning now, more than some semblance of order is the captive mood in that small but important industry.

‘Process’ was the key word. It was the concept and practice of placing a select few craft vendors in all-inclusive hotels. Then it was rotated until vendors were schooled in the ways of gentle interaction, coupled with an increase in the quality of the items being sold.

I am certain that even as more than a few government workers are holding out the hand of hope as the complexities of the new compensation become unravelled, there will be a few hustlers outside the US Embassy, and others in tourism resorts, placing themselves in a better Christmas than the year before.

Some silently cry. Others laugh.

About a decade and a half ago while I was in the US Embassy securing a visitor visa, I watched briefly as a woman was turned down.

“I’m sorry,” said the consular officer. “At this time you do not qualify for a visa. But you can try in another... .”

The woman had a tonload of documents in a huge envelope, and in some sort of panic she began to pull out document after document. “I am sorry,” said the officer as the woman walked away in a daze.

A few weeks ago, I saw a video clip of a very confused young man. He was cussing the prime minister for the sun rising and the moon’s soft glow at night. Just about everything was Holness’ fault.

He cussed the PM for him, a poor Jamaican, being somehow forced to pay application fees at the US Embassy.

According to this man, the PM should force the embassy to refund his money after the embassy refused to grant him a visitor visa.

The real truth is, one man’s sadness is another man’s bread. I am certain that the residents of Standpipe would not mind if people get turned down or not. Just as long as they show up at the embassy to plead their cause or to lawfully seek permits to enter the United States.

MISSING LOVED ONES ON CHRISTMAS

My mother said her final goodbye in 2005. My father left the firmament named life in 2016.

But both, especially my father, brought joy to me, and my siblings and it was mostly concentrated around the Christmas. Many rural youngsters of today are still finding time to ‘go back home’ in the few days of holiday.

The distinctions between urban and rural Christmas are more myth than reality. Town becomes country, and a small, rural town transforms itself into a bustling mini metropole, and the bits merge into one.

We will never dare to eat less or engage in sobriety, even though those spartan treats are quote unfit for the Christmas season.

The best gift is probably the saving of one’s own life. After all, you have to be alive to love those who are gone and those who are in the same place where you are.

For this day, and the others to follow, I wish you love, peace and as much contentment as you can handle. Eat, drink and be merry.

And, if you can, share something with someone else. Then wait for the broad smile.

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