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Showing posts with label Death. Jamaica. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Death. Jamaica. Show all posts

Monday, July 25, 2011

I slapped people with a cutlass...never beheaded a man - did not think that would be a 'thing'

Ok this is a short one, cause my heart hurts for my people.
A gang back home has started doing BEHEADINGS, yes that had to be capitalized the dog-heart bastards have made this a thing! The level of depravity to do something like that shocks me. It shocks me when it is done as part of religious fanaticism but it shocks me more when it is done to send a bloody message (at least with the religion I sigh and chalk it up to people can be convinced to do anything in the name of God/Allah/Buddha/Love)

Jamaica has had 4 beheadings in 5 days...let that sink in...still with me? Not 1 in the last 5 days, not 2 spread out over 5 days no 4 in 5. Look I hate writing bad things about back home, we thrive on tourism so to be fair I often gloss over any violence especially since violence touches the tourist areas so infrequently as to make a statement like "Tourists are NEVER touched in Jamaica" be as close to a true statement as water is wet. So while this does not affect the tourists, it affects MY people and it hurts me. Fourth death article

For now we should be grateful that American news media has not latched on to this (small comfort) but if we do not eradicate them dog heart fassy dem we will soon be looking at Fox news slamming us for our lawless state.

When I was a kid, we had tonnes of fruit trees in our property, in fanciful American real estate puffery it would have been listed as an orchard to drive up property value, for us it was known as the "Mango, cashew, banana, avocado, guava, guinep trees weh mi haffi rake up di leaf dem". But because of this bounty, thieves would often step into our yard despite the presence of viscous guard dogs and a fearsome 5 ft 2 inch skinny black kid weighing about 85lbs and holding a cutlass. I wish I had a picture of the time when I stood under the mango tree surrounded by 7 German Shepherds holding a rusty cutlass yelling up into the center at a thief who was begging me to 'tek the dog dem weh man so mi cyan climb down the damn tree and leff'' while I with my voice cracking yelled back 'fling down di bag a mango and mi will let u leff' (as a kid I always thought patois made me sound more intimidating...really should have realized the 7 dogs [less the cutlass] did that for me).

The dogs were wonderfully trained and would actually listen to me (I cooked them their food after all [outside with them waiting], they knew not to bite the hand that fed them...literally). I told them to sit and they would sit. So the guy in the tree saw me tell them to sit starts to climb down and I did the only practical vigilante justice thing someone holding a cutlass and in the presence of someone who wanted to rob them would do...I SWUNG. But because I am not some insane thug or someone who wants to ever actually maim another I hit him flush with the flat side of the cutlass across the buttocks and lower back. Which of course caused him to lose his grip on the tree, yelp and fall to the ground. Problem for him was that reanimated the dogs so back up the tree he scampered. Short form of the story, he stayed up there an hour while I stayed under the tree till my mom came home and she finally made me lock up the dogs while the dutty boy ran fi him life.

I tell you that story because it is funny and illustrative; just because I had an instrument of death did not mean I had to use it as such, I merely taught the man a lesson, I never saw it as something to remove a body part. No matter how mad at thieves I was, I never swung my cutlass to cut, but these guys are wilfully going into situations to remove body parts...Lawd I pray fi mi country tek care a all a wi!

Selah


Thursday, August 14, 2008

A little dark humour to reflect my mood!

The CIA was once recruiting new candidates for special missions. The final 3 Candidates were a Jamaican an American and a Canadian. To weed out who would be best for risky special ops the CIA called them in one by one the Canadian came in first: "Congrats you have made it to the final stage, the only thing left for you to become an agent is to take this gun go inside and kill the 2 people in the waiting room." The Canadian looked at the gun and said, "Oh no I cannot do that, dontcha know that is wrong. Goodbye eh" He then walked out.

The American was called in next and given the instructions, he looked at the gun looked at the CIA rep and shook his head saying "Man y'all are crazy no way can I do that."

The Jamaican was called in next, he looked at the gun reluctantly after receiving the message slowly picked it up and walked out. There was silence for ages then some shouting, some yelling a commotion sounded, the reps from the CIA rushed out to the waiting room. There they found the Jamaican with a torn shirt breathing heavily and a vexed look upon his face and the Canadian and American dead at his feet.

He looked up at the CIA reps and in a disappointed voice said "Dread, the gun unuu gave mi never have nuh bullets so mi haffi beat them over the head with it and fling some chair till the boy them stop moving...so when do I start the job?"

Not the greatest joke, bit macabre but such is the way I feel after reading that 125 persons were killed in July and that is actually a DECREASE in the murder rate for back home!

Sand A, says I should put the murder rate in context so let me try: San Diego County and Jamaica have a similar population size. It is considered a gruesome year in SD if there are 40 murders for the whole year. If Jamaica had a month of only 40 murders we would probably have to have a national holiday!

Friday, June 27, 2008

Father Forgive them! R.I.P. Kamau G.

One of my friends and colleagues from High School (Campion) has passed away. I do not know all the details, I do not even know exactly when his death occurred. What I do know is that I have lost another person that made my life better when I was a young one, and made the lives of others richer.

He was always smiling, he was a great chap. From the Pagoda to scrimmage to just shooting the breeze, waiting in the parking lot.

Like many of my friends whom I did not stay in contact with after high school (mainly because I left Jamaica) my image of him is always in Khaki uniforms. I can see it now, shirt slight ruffled because a whole day of school has gone through, everyone jostling each other, yelling out "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH" when someone trips. There was nothing but joy back in high school. Even death was fleeting, we lost a friend our last year of school and we just celebrated their life and did not dwell on the pain. But now that I have gotten older, death hits me harder. I realize that, it is actually something I cannot stop, it creeps towards me. As I heard a couple weeks ago "Life is a terminal illness."

Kamau was always in my mind, incredibly strong. He was fast, I mean 'do not bother racing him, he will kick your ass' fast. When someone whom I can only remember as the epitome of fitness and vitality passes in a sudden shocking manner, it is hard to believe because all I can remember them as is living life to its utmost.

My friend Derrick said this as we were exchanging shock about the news:
"In my opinion people need to stop dying.

Don't die Aaron."

I love Derrick, he knows the best things to say. It put a smile on my face and reminded me, to just keep on living, and come what may...don't die!

I'm sure I could with time, sit down and write a better blog, a better memorial, but then it would never be as true as this one is, and never be as raw as this one feels right now. I miss the kid. I hate that my friends have to die. I know that they must, I know that we all must. I know I will. And when my time comes, may I face it with dignity. But for now, I must mourn another friend. I must say a prayer for his family, and I must face the shocking reality that I did not stay as close in touch with him as I should have.


Father, forgive me!

To all my other friends, I pray for you, I pray for your health, I hope we all live to the age where we can look back and talk about "When I was young we used to do this..."

Rest In Peace, Kamau Graham!

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Cali-J ueber alles in der Welt. Some think that I am mean; (I call them friends), in fact I am not that mean. What I am is sarcastic and dry to the sandpaper level. I have friends that I have never said a kind word to their face, but I praise to the ends of the earth to anyone I know and will defend them to the end. That’s just how I roll! My boys know that I am down for them, my girls know that no matter what I will keep them safe (and occasionally flirt with them [If you are a female friend of mine and think I haven’t flirted with you it just means you didn’t notice, it was extremely subtle or…not yet ]). No one is safe from my sarcasm even my own parents; hence of course as a kid I spent a significant amount of time in punishment. I treat people with respect if I think they deserve it – everyone starts off with the same amount of respect from me (a lot). You don’t need to earn my respect; you have to keep my respect.