The shame of the train
Published:Sunday | August 26, 2012 | 12:00 AM
Mel Cooke, Gleaner Writer
About two years ago, I did a series on the old train stations, going from the turntable in Port Antonio where the engines were turned around at the end of the line to Catadupa in St James where tales of the ladies who sewed for passengers were still told.
It was a sad journey through often run-down stations and the memories of those who had vivid images of the 'train days' in their heads, which they were all too happy to relate.
However, as forlorn as I was then about the death of a trailblazing train service which served the interior of the country especially well, my moment of real sadness came on Monday night. I was one of two adults who drove to Charlemont, St Catherine, to retrieve seven children and two adults who had taken the train in Spanish Town, the young ones waving goodbye from the end of the last carriage of three as it pulled out.
It was practically the 'last train', as the service was discontinued last week, and I was happy that the children could experience a train ride in Jamaica - something I have never and, chances are, will never experience. However, the sad moment came when we picked them up in Charlemont, at a concrete rectangle which serves as a platform. I sat on the edge of that platform and thought how remarkable it is (or was) that someone could have once stood on it and waited confidently for affordable, punctual, dignified transportation.
We associate waiting on a platform for a train with other countries, some of those images coming from spaghetti westerns. But there was a time in this country where the same experience, associated with developed countries, was commonplace.
waste of infrastructure
I regret the destruction of Jamaica's train system for several reasons, among them the obvious waste of infrastructure which took immense effort and expenditure to put in. But, more than that, it is the effect that the cessation of train service has had on the interior of the country. For while we are doing rather well in putting in highways around the island, the smooth roads do not go to the places where the bulk of small farming takes place.
Not that the train lines ran everywhere, but they certainly did a better job. It is part of our warped sense of what is important to us as a nation.
I also noticed that the behaviour of the persons taking the train was very different from the boorishness which often comes with the route taxis and 'executive buses'. Sure, it was crowded (the children said a lot of people came off in Linstead and were picked up, so they were not the only persons bidding the service 'so long'), but there was no raucousness. People respond to their environment - look how passengers line up downtown and in Half-Way Tree to take the Jamaica Urban Transit Company buses.
The children had many stories about their train ride. One was how bumpy it was (the television images of an ultra-smooth ride and tables to play cards were totally shot); the other was the man with the flashlight guiding the engine as it switched ends in Linstead to 'back up' to Charlemont. They were disappointed that they went through the tunnel at Bog Walk in the night, but still managed to squeeze off a picture of the rock face.
It will take many years before they realise the significance of the 45-minute journey they took on Monday night, but when those seven children take a train in another country they will remember that they did it in Jamaica first. Hopefully, they will understand it as a symbol of what Jamaica has been - and what Jamaica can be again.