Hartley Neita, Contributor
THIS MORNING (and I am writing this on Thursday), I woke at the crack of dawn.
Normally, my deadline for turning in this weekly Sunday article is on a Wednesday, but from time to time my editor gives me dispensation when he knows I am occupied with other things. So, I decided not to stretch his patience, and write it early.
Yesterday (Wednesday), I did some reading in the morning, and as it was warm the windows in my study were closed while I breathed the artificial cool of air-conditioning. The rain yesterday made this morning cool. I switched on my computer, placed an Abbey Lincoln CD with the haunting ballad, "Bird Alone" in the "ROM", and opened the window to my garden.
Gasp! Outside, a foot from the window, were two long-stemmed mauve roses blooming full and wet with the morning dew. And hovering to and fro was a humming bird. Gasp!
Me heart full. It nearly bus'. And I reflected on the night before.
I went to the swearing-in ceremony of Prime Minister Patterson. There were friends of mine, Del Hutchinson and Barbara Stewart and members of their posse from Westmoreland, boasting proudly that their parish had colted the domino game with a three-love. And from all over Jamaica, came friends of long ago to celebrate with P.J., along with posses from the Eastern Caribbean led by their Prime Ministers.
One JLP leader
But as I walked around the grounds of Emancipation Park before the ceremony began, I saw only one leader of the Jamaica Labour Party, Ossie Harding. And there was the Most Honourable Denise Eldermire-Shearer who came to represent the Most Honourable Hugh Lawson, who was not well, and who would have been present as he has been for every swearing-ins of his friend Percival James. And I recalled that he was always present at P.J.'s home, before P.J. became Prime Minister, to share in the birthday celebrations of P.J.'s mother, Ina James.
For me, the swearing-in was a moving ceremony. The rain blessed the afternoon and postponed it until the sun went down. There was, too, the inspirational "This Is My Land" composed by Jamaica Labour Party's Robert Lightbourne sung by a "massive" combined choir.
And then there was the moment I have waited for, for nearly 30 years. At a seminar for the creative team of information officers of the newly-created Agency for Public Information in 1974, I told the staff that some years before I was in a receiving line of senior journalists being presented to Her Royal Highness, The Princess Margaret and her husband, the Lord Snowdon. I had been assigned to the Royal visitors as their press liaison officer and so was the last in the receiving line. Ahead were T. E. Sealy, Evon Blake, Frank Hill, Alva Ramsay, Aimee Webster, Vic Reid, Sybil Thompson, J.C. Proute, Charlie Balfour and others, and just ahead of me were Barbara Gloudon and Corina Meeks.
Now, in the close presence of Royalty, men when introduced are required to bow their heads while women curtsy. But as Barbara and Corina curtsied and I followed, I too, began to curtsy and had to do a quick Muhammad Ali shuffle to recover from the moment's embarrassment.
'Woolly-eyed socialist'
So I told the staff, that I swore then that the day would come when I would be bowing my head in respect to the Lady Bustamantes, Louise Bennetts and Edna Manleys of Jamaica, and I would be raising my voice in the councils of the land to get rid of the oath sworn by our leaders to Her Majesty, Her Relatives, and Her Heirs in perpetuity. My comments were recorded and published in a report on the seminar, a copy of which was sent to the late Morris Cargill, and in a subsequent column, he said my comments were those of a "woolly-eyed socialist" and Jamaica could well do without the likes of me.
Well, I have seen the glory! So the big moment of the ceremony at Emancipation Park was when the Prime Minister began his oath: "I Percival James Noel Patterson, do swear that I will be faithful and bear true allegiance to Jamaica." The crowd interrupted the solemnity with a roar that could probably be heard at Belmont Road and in the studios of POWER'S "Nationwide" programme.
And again when he said: "I will conscientiously and impartially discharge my responsibilities to the people of Jamaica", the roar of approval was deafening.
It was a 30-year-old dream come true. Me heart was full, till it almost bus'. And on Thursday morning, when thanks to my friend Michael Archer who gave me the CD, I heard Miss Lincoln's voice singing, with the saxophone of Stan Getz and the piano of Hank Jones adding colour to the background.
"Bird alone, flying high
Flying through a cloudy sky
Sending mournful soulful sounds
Soaring over troubled grounds-"
Me heart really full. The only missing glory was the turning on of the fountain.
