We were seated at a semi-private section at the rear of a small joint close to the Cross Roads area. My sociologist friend was at one end of an old wooden table. She was sipping a beer. The place and the afternoon was cool and quiet and perfect for our purpose.
It was her view that the tourist and the resort areas are shielded from violent criminality because of what she called social shielding. “Explain that,” I said to her.
“Our criminals may be murderous, but they are not necessarily fools. They know how the societal arrangements are set because they see it, live it. The young, poor, black Jamaican criminal knows that in any conflict with a white or light-skinned Jamaican, the poor man is likely to end up with the blade instead of the handle. As a result of this very simplistic reasoning he does not include the typical tourist in his criminal equation.”
“What about extortion?” I asked. She shot back with, “What about it?” I wanted to know if she believed that some in the powerful tourism industry had any ‘special arrangements’ with key criminal elements operating in the physical perimeters of these posh areas. In furtherance of guaranteed peace and social comfort. And continued viability of investment.
“Well I have no direct information there, but I am sure that the normal outreach as good corporate and community citizenship could accommodate that.” The vast majority of us must operate in an environment where key, unwritten codes scripted by the powerful and connected cannot protect us. And over many years ,we have grown to accept it.
Media reports detailing the words and the reasoning of Justice Bryan Sykes coming out of the trial of men attached to the Klansman gang have, in recent days and throughout the trial, identified a dark and frightening part of Jamaica.
Justice Sykes’ words present us with a broader social summation, but that is not his job. His duties at this time are identifying those who were immersed in specific criminal behaviour and attaching fitting penalties to their crimes. Some may escape the dragnet of justice.
One part of this ‘social summation’ speaks to urban, inner-city existence, where one criminal gang and the possession of assault weapons are feared to the point that residents are forced to go along with the community laws set by the gang. And bear in mind that the laws are set to directly benefit the gang leader and his many lieutenants.
We already know that like many other countries in the world, Jamaica is made up of little bits and pieces of social bytes and economic megabytes. At the time that Jones Avenue in Spanish Town was the stomping ground of Blackman and his hordes, those of us living ‘better off’ modes of existence knew that we were free to meet and fête our friends on either our front or rear porches.
The easiest way out was to let the chips fall where they may in Jones Avenue and concentrate on our personal, family, and business affairs. “Mark, we have written at length on bridging the social divide.” That was coming from my sociologist friend. ‘People know there is no quick fix. If I was in charge of developing areas of sociological research at university level, I would suggest that youngsters not waste their time on overworn foolishness.
“You remember years ago when Seaga said “It takes cash to care”? It wasn’t anything earth-shattering. It was a simple fact. You know it as much as me. Many people living in the hell that many inner-city areas cannot afford to move out because they are trapped there. Some get away with living their monthly lives on stolen electricity and NWC, scared to disconnect where millions are owed.
And add to that the low rental, especially where the don collects. So right now, as the time moves, Jamaicans lock more of themselves inside, meaning that I understand your problems, but please don’t burden me with explaining it. Let inner-city areas work out their things with lying politicians. I will cheer the comedy revue.”
As much as I cannot feel even the least bit of sympathy for Jean Ann Panton, late of Stocks and Securities Limited (SSL), it is only fitting that she attain the highest state of health for the day when she has to explain how and why she brought pain on others.
That said, I wasn’t quite sure what to make of her using crutches and being pushed in a wheelchair. I must confess, though, that the policeman pushing her wheelchair had a face and body that made him come across as an honest and trustworthy person. A study in contrasts indeed.
The first assumption made by many, including me, is that it seems the most unlikely of outcomes that Ms Panton acted alone. Let’s think about it. It was multiple millions of dollars. So if she did remove these funds, what was the name of the entity receiving those funds? Certainly people connected to this entity or entities could not have been so naive to the regular controls that no red flag showed itself.
Plus, it needed someone from home base to oil the machinery while the funds were given flight. In seeking some kind of home confinement bail as against being locked up behind bars, her attorney told the court that a lot of the assistance being given her in her physically unwell state was by other individuals who were also locked up.
The Anansi in Jamaicans has kicked in. A lady locked up on a charge involving many millions of dollars. Of course she is going to get nuff nuff assistance. The thing flows so, and it goes so.
I’m not sure if the book I saw it in was written by the late, great Gleaner columnist Morris Cargill.
But it spoke of this rural Rastaman. In the 1960s. He is illiterate, he is poor, and as would be expected, a bit of a community hustler. At times he would steal something and someone else would be held and charged for the crime. Other times, the constable would pick him up for something he never did.
So on this day, he is before the petty sessions court. In a very informal way the judge asks him: “Guilty or not guilty?” The Rastaman gets philosophical. Him go jail nuff time when him innocent and other times him get weh when him guilty.
So, to the judge’s question – guilty or not guilty? He answers:”Is dat I come here fi find out.”
n Mark Wignall is a political and public affairs analyst. Send feedback to columns@gleanerjm.com [2] and mawigsr@gmail.com [3].