Going home to die…
My heart races, my face feels swollen and tight, I can feel blood pulsing in my neck, and my breaths are sharp and low. This is my reaction every time I think about returning home. I have lived overseas for almost 5 years and to me it seems like just the other day I left home. I have been grappling with the thought of returning to my home country for years and it has been the cause of many sleepless nights and long internal debates. But are my fears dumbfounded or irrational? Are they warranted, expected…is this anxiety natural?
Jamaica is best known for reggae, beautiful beaches, and vibrant resilient people. But beneath all of this, or happening in tandem with the beautiful sunshine and the pulse of rhythmic bliss, is the fact that the country has one of the highest murder rates per capita in the world not withstanding the many plans implemented by successive governments to stem the overflow of murders, gun violence, and other forms of heinous crimes.
For most of my life I lived in Waterhouse and Arnette Gardens (Jungle) — two lower income political garrisons in Kingston. I recall my childhood in Waterhouse with a great degree of fondness as I enjoyed playing “dandy shandy” in the streets and watching scrimmage matches on the banks of Sandy Gully. I was unaware of how dangerous the community was. When I moved to Jungle (a very fitting name), I became more aware of the violence because, well, I was older and more conscious. And my friends and peers started to die.
Jungle was my home before I left Jamaica in search of better opportunities and it may very well be the place I return when I leave this foreign land. I’m just a teacher and I still can’t afford the 35 million dollar condos in New Kingston or Town Houses in upper Saint Andrew. I marvel at the idea that there are regular people in Jamaica who can afford this off the bat, even though I dream and make plans in preparation of home ownership in the near future. That is another thing that keeps me up at night.
There is a school of Academics that put forward the idea that crises occur in a cyclical form and feature moments of calm or stillness, but this is far from my experience in Jungle. Perhaps the community has evolved past the state of crisis and a new word is needed to describe it. Jungle has always been in crisis. I cannot recall a point in my life when Jungle wasn’t hot.
The community has always been plagued by gun violence. Notable killings include Willy Haggart, Machine Man, and Tasha. Those are some of the most popular names but the many deaths of lesser known men, women, and children cannot be ignored. As I sit on the kitchen floor of my tiny apartment with thoughts of home swirling in my head, I scribbled 26 names of men, women, and children who I knew personally that died at the hands of gun violence. I’m saddened and I don’t want to write anymore but this helps me to deal with all the pain. One name in particular is Andre. We grew up together and were close. He was gunned down a few metres away from his home a year after I left. I saw his daughter last summer and she looks just like him with deep set eyes.
Jungle is a political garrison but regardless of which party is in power the status quo remains the same — high murder rates and violent crimes. The crime plans proposed and implemented by successive governments have failed to address the issues in the community. The current use of a Zone of Special Operations (ZOSO) in Arnette has done little to curb murders. However, some residents of the community report that they are happy with the presence of the security forces while others view the law men with disdain. There is also growing animosity between some residents and the law men. Residents of Jungle have made claims of abuse by the security forces and the amount of reports to the Independent Commission of Investigations (INDECOM) are mounting.
Crime Plan aside, another method that can be used to save the community and its residents is through education. This method would involve a significant increase in social programs for members of the community. I am particularly fond of this approach because it is how myself and some of my friends got away. I must of course accept that education and social spending is not the panacea to Jungle’s ills, or Jamaica’s for that matter, but it could help. Can we realistically educate the crime away? By spending more on schools, implementing training programs, and providing jobs will that make murders decline or disappear?
I cannot pretend to have the answers to solving the problems in Arnette or Jamaica. I am not a saint and certainly do not wish to be a martyr. The truth is I am afraid to die. I am especially troubled at the thought that my life will be cut short by some young man who didn’t receive the opportunities that I wish were commonplace for all Jamaicans — access to quality education, decent healthcare, adequate housing, and a liveable wage — because he felt he had no other choice. I just want things to change.
