Michael Reckord, Contributor
"DADS, I need your help!" Artie's voice was a terrified
whisper in the phone.
"You in trouble, Artie?" I asked.
"In a life-threatening situation, Dads. Behind a garbage drum. I can't talk too loud. Can you come and get me?"
Over the phone, in the distance, I heard what sounded like gunshots. "That's rapid-fire weaponry, Artie. You seem to be in a war zone."
"It's not exactly a zone. I'm in Jiggy Man's yard downtown, but the bullets whizzing around are as deadly as those in Iraq."
"Well, my advice is to get the hell out of there. Where shall I pick you up?"
"I'll try to get to South Parade in the next 15 minutes that's about 4 o'clock. I'll be under the big tree." Artie paused, then, voice breaking with emotion, added, "If you don't see me, tell Mama I'm sorry I shouted at her this morning and I love her."
There was another burst of gunfire and the phone went dead. I dragged on a shirt and ran for the door.
My fears were not realised and Artie was at South Parade when I got there. Twenty minutes later, in a Cross Roads restaurant, my young friend was calming his nerves with a super size meal a burger, fries and Pepsi while he explained how he almost got killed.
"You may have seen this article, Dads." Artie took a newspaper
clipping and his tape recorder from
his pouch.
The clipping's lead paragraph read, "Ten of the more than 60 handcart operators in Falmouth, Trelawny, have come together to form the first association of handcart operators in the island."
"Interesting," I said. "I wonder how I missed that story?"
"The murder to those three children in Kilancholly was the big news that day," Artie said. "It overshadowed all the smaller items."
Remembering the tragedy, I nodded.
"Yesterday..." Artie paused, sipped his drink, and continued, "I got a call from a contact that some handcart men in Kingston wanted to emulate the Trelawny group and I was to come to the preliminary discussions today."
"At Jiggy Man's yard?"
Artie nodded. "Right. I got there just after noon. I could tell right away that the meeting was headed for trouble."
"Yes?"
"Yes. Pablo was giving a campaign speech to people at the gate, even though he and the other candidates for the Executive had agreed that all campaigning would stop at 12 o'clock that day, two hours before the inaugural meeting was to begin."
I held up my hand. "Before you continue, let me get these names straight. Pablo was a candidate for ?"
"Vice-President. Jiggy Man was running for President. Scrungie wanted the Treasurer's post which was stupid, Pablo told me, for they all knew he'd been to prison six times on various larceny charges."
"So," I said, "at that juncture, Pablo was breaking the agreement with his speech and Scrungie wanted a post he couldn't get. Any problems with Jiggy Man?"
"He wanted his woman, Precious, to get the Secretary's post. But, according to Pablo, though she would've been excellent, since she could write better than any of the men, she was a higgler and neither owned nor operated a handcart. So, beside the fact that her being on the Executive would've given Jiggy Man too much power, Precious was simply ineligible to join the Association."
I commented that Artie seemed to have got a lot of his information from Pablo.
"Affirmative. I actually interviewed him on tape." (Artie, who wants to be a reporter, is constantly interviewing people). He pressed the recorder's "Play" button. "Listen."
Artie: Pablo, the rules said no campaigning after 12. Why you break them?
Pablo: De law is not a shackle. Duck!
(Sound of gunfire)
Artie: Maybe not, but it's a guide.
Pablo: Seen, kingman, but de oddahs mus be guided by de rules, too. Is not me firs break dem.
Artie: Who did?
Pablo: Jiggy Man. Him bring him gun to de meeting.
(Gunshots)
Artie: He denies that. He said the other handcart men came to him, in his yard, where he always carries a gun.
Pablo: A technicality. He pull him gun during the assembly. Dat's what started de war.
Artie: When you accused him of corruption. At 1:20 the meeting had not officially begun. And it turned out that most of the handcart men had guns.
Pablo: Is who side you on, star? (Loudly) Tek dat, yu brute!
(A barrage of shots close by)
Artie: Pablo, man, you almost deafen me. I'm trying to be objective.
Pablo: Yu sound partisan to me.
Artie: Who you firing at?
Pablo: Whoever firing at me. If is not Jiggy Man, is Scrungie. If is not dem, is dem so-called delegates.
(a single shot, afar off)
Artie: You seem to have scared them off.
Pablo: Nutten scare dem man. We live in de inner city and we haffi prepared to dead anytime. Dem probably circling round to get a better shot.
Artie: I better take this opportunity to leave. A friend is picking me up in ten minutes. Thanks for the interview.
Artie turned off the tape recorder. "An absolutely pointless battle, you know, Dads. Now the association, which could have helped the men, may never be formed."
"Most battles are pointless," I said, adding admiringly, "You taped that in the middle of the gunfire, Artie."
He grinned. "I was practising being an embedded reporter, like the ones in Iraq. I figure if I'm going to be a reporter here, with our level of violence, I've got to learn the skill."
