Mitchell and Jamaica People Stress: The Trauma of Police Encounters

Sooooo..... BAAAAMMMM! 2:30pm Saturday afternoon. Paradise becomes abuzz with activity, residents scampering to cell phones, "weh dem deh, weh dem deh?" "Tek dung di line!" At the same time here comes one flock of residents taking a variety of unpopular routes, escaping and avoiding the JPS disconnection teams, who have in tow the long arms of the law. It is also alleged "one white lady weh look like di ooman who own JPS pon di TV did dih deh."

After the moments of flurry and outbursts of fluster and frustration and utter confusion, "nuff" ole me, decided maybe I should take a look in Bread Lane, site of what seems to be the police action and scene of quite a few arrests. Mothers and Grandmothers in police custody, young women and a "baby father." And here is where my head ache starts. The police are man-handling the baby father, who is in possession of his child at the moment.

Now I happen the particular child and new here mother was not in the vicinity at the moment, I also knew the baby father was not a resident of the community but was babysitting and staying in what is his woman's family yard. So technically he is being arrested for a crime he hasn't committed. And att the same time the police while jostling the youth is insisting on trying to palm of the baby off to any arbitrary community member so that he can carry through his arrest by any means necessary. Even if it means he has not left the child in proper or legal custody of an official guardian or family member.

Here is where I made the unfortunate mistake of pointing out to the Police man who I gleaned goes by the name Mitchell, that he is a bit to eager to carry out the arrest without following proper or due procedure and that he can't just give the baby to a passerby. This is when the ass loses his cool. and screams at me "Yuh a fool, aye  Rasta bwoy leff di place before mi tek a rock and mash in yuh head side, yuh know nutten bought rights? a stir u come fi stir up supm, cause a problem... a soon kick yuh and nuh stop kick yuh till bend up."

This is where I pause look at him, gaze intently, for I have met rude police men, but this man tops the list as the worst offender and most moronic. In holding his gaze, I see when his certainty breaks, for I am not moving , nor am I intimidated. So eventually I reply, "Lick who?"

To which he retorts with another expletive filled tirade. Then I say to him "Yeah I know my rights, but is like you nuh know them!" he then trys to make an explanation for dealing with the baby father and the issue of the child in the way he is, at the same time still eating up himself and badding up an explanation. At which time I turn to leave...

As I turn to leave, I can see his friend with either the oozy or mini-k/or 16 swinging round his neck like one of Flavour Flave's oversize pendants, is incensed that I haven't cowered, become a coward and completely capitualted with fear. While I a walking away, the Po-Po whom I shall call Gun-pendent is walking me down. When I turn round to meet him, he is already grabbing my left arming and turning me. Now thank Selassie that I have a PRESS ID, which is the first thing that greets him when he spins me, it stalls him. He is now taken aback, and I start chuck more ID's at him.

To which he responds, "Stop! Yuh seem like a educated yute, yuh couldn't have so much paper and nuh have eucation, so hear wah, we a do we ting, and we nuh need no trouble so jut gallang weh yuh a go, go dung deh so and nuh come up yah again, caah u seem like a trouble yuh waan start."

Mitchell then asks him as I am going away... " A who him?" T which Gun-pendent replies "NOBODY!"


So there it is like slaves, we have limited access to resources, police come and arrest on premises without warrants, squatters, landless, dispossessed, and baddup brutalized and pushed around. 21st century slavery I say.

A ME MOMENT!

Of PNP's Lost Roots and Forgotten Culture: Dorothy M. Thompson Must Be Remembered!

Now I would like to speak on the PNP's neglect and disrespect. My Grand Mother Dorothy M. Thompson has carried the party on her back since I came into existence and I am 32 and she is 94 and she  has been doing it longer than I was alive. In my lifetime, she was the cornerstone on which the PNP rested in certain areas of Montego Bay. She was close friend of Mayor Charles Donaldson who lived up the road and on the next drive. She was the ear Carl Miller needed. She was the reason Michael Manley and Howard Cooke stopped at the house, in Paradise, not Ironshore or Reading or Mango Walk! But time can forget but to ask about why someone is forgotten and to try to be silenced. How the PNP can forget Dorothy M. Thompson, how they can come to Paradise and not stop at her house? How they hand out awards and forget her? This is the reason they will lose the next election, for the have neglected their grass roots, and  have forgotten the last election was not a PNP win, but just a backlash and effort to oust a bullyism run JLP. Not a PNP mandate, not a yea for PNP, not any vouch of faith. Just a NO to JLP! But let them continue the folly they follow. Leave all my e-mails unreplied, leave all the real journalistic questions unanswered, send the wrong MP's, send old and slow councillors, do whatever convention wisdom tells them, ignore me, ignore the electorate, ignore the suffering Jamaicans, ignore the voice of the people! Jamaica is getting better, and Jamaicans are happy with the administration of the community, city and nation.

Reflections on Summer, Youth and Community

I-sah, summer draws to a close and there is much to reflect upon for the summer that is 2013! It's been hectic and I am certainly a different man. U-nah-mean so much in my meditations now. Firstly, I spent an immense and intense amount of time with Keekee in Paradise... our relationship is on another level right now... I feel a tighter bond. She all make me proud since this past week, when friends come to link mi fi mek a small check on a (problematic CQ61 HP Compaq) laptop headed to the pawn shop at City Centre, anyway... out comes Keekee out the house into the garage... "I'M YOUNGGG, GIFTED AAAND BLACK!" Mi breddrin dem look in amazement then pop up and seh "Coulda only fi yuh pickney Rasta!" But sitting a 3 year old while you have signs to paint, brochures to design, t-shirt fi design, your own newspaper to try and start, your blogs to write, articles, drawings to finish, paintings to be finish, Artistes biography, PR for Artistes/Breddrin, moeny to try make, bills to pay, Cashpot fi study and try ketch... It can be heavy and cumbersome sometimes, when every 15 minutes, Daddy I'm hungry, Daddy I want juice, Daddy tie this for me please, Daddy I want to go to the bathroom (All when she a do this by herself now), Daddy can I get a paper, Daddy can help me draw this, Daddy I want to go to the shop, Daddy I want to go by Jayla. YOW! More time mi feel mi brain go sprain... but a so it go. Daddy love you.

My Grrrl Boss: Ms. Young Gifted & Black!

Then there is the added task of trying to be a good son, assist Mommy with her burdens, as they are many, do the little I can, drop the goods to the hospital etc. That wobbled some here in the summer owing to all the constant things, things, things happening.

For one their is the Youth Club as well. AH BWOY! A real story and saga, and partially the inspiration for this article... for other than the intense Keekee hours, alot of the other hours were spent throwing mental and physical powers to the Youth Club and general community matters. And can you imagine after all that effort, in the Youth Club, it went up in flames I-YAH! Jah know! You can read the Observers small take on the matter at this link: Paradise Fire! Youth Club went in the Blaze!

Just to attend is a great effort on my part to, sit, stay, pay attention. But I did... eventually now I operate as PRO. But to imagine... the Kid's Treat today and stuff gone up in flames, free food, free slippers, second hand text books etc etc etc. And granted the media says fire of unknown origin, I suspect arson.

Anyway how all this ties with summer and youth, is because between having to be constantly around my 3 yr old daughter, and her 5 and 10 year old cousins, who host tea parties and stage shows ("Paradise Sumfest" with a painted sign included) outside my un-closed door and interacting with the communities tweens and teenie boppers and teenager cockroaches more than normal, with back-to-school here and ll this youth energy, it gave me a chance to remember a lot of my youth and mildly relive and remember what those youthful days of girls boys and summer adventure and the hassle and havoc and turmoil that, that social period and various stages and cycles of development are like... Do you remember what they were like?

We live in an age today, where President Obama Nobel Peace Prize winner will trumpet his second officil war, Libya being the first, now we see the trumped up charges with no UN proof for a Syrian War. Yes come September Obama and World War 3 will be in the backdrop of the children and the youths lives and TVs. Occupy this and that and 99%ers will probably be protesting. And just like when I came into to Earth, a war was in full swing on JBC... I would grow up in the ending years of the cold war and would hear Mikhail Gorbachov and Yitzak Rabin and Yessar Arafat, Gaddafi etc... constantly in the back drop of my life.

But what about the foreground... do you remember those Calvin and Hobbes-esque summers of immortality, infinite energy and endless hours. The more well endowed among us will remember there first cars, some the first job, or even the first summer job, most will remember that first kiss! Don't! Nuff a unnu must remember when it seemed like the whole world was exploding with new ideas and you were searching and reaching out for new experiences, wanting to see and know this world. Seeing through new eyes. Youth, Puberty, Adolescence, Growth, Change. It's a bitter sweet journey and beautiful sight.

But this article has to be continued as Keekee's pressing need to watch TEAM UMIZUMI (did I spell that right) oh well... youth.... gwaan listen this Avicii till when next I write

P.S. Youth(Dax) Happy B-day! To days of summer and youth, cricket and basketball!