Michael Reckord, Contributor
Residents of Tivoli Gardens block the road during a major Police/Military operation in the community October 4. -RUDOLPH BROWN/CHIEF PHOTOGRAPHER
THE INCLEMENT weather had kept me from visiting Artie for several days and when, the other afternoon, I walked up his driveway towards his verandah where he was sitting, I expected a cheery response to my greeting. "How you doing, Artie?"
Instead, in his most funereal tone, my young friend replied, "Lucky to be alive, Dads."
Settling into my usual chair, I accepted a glass of beer from Artie, took a sip of the cool, tangy liquid and asked, "Was there some doubt you would be?"
"There was indeed." Artie gestured with his own glass to his tape recorder, which was on the verandah table beside a bowl of pretzels. "Me and my machine almost got shot to pieces a
couple Tuesdays ago."
"Good Lord! What happened?" was my immediate response, though I made a mental note to remind Artie to watch his grammar if he still intended to be a reporter.
He explained that, while in a taxi going home from a party in the early hours of the Tuesday morning in question, he had encountered Bev, his family's helper, on her way to Tivoli Gardens to see her brother, Dennis. Artie's offer to give her a lift had an unfortunate result: The invasion of Tivoli by the security forces and the concomitant curfew and gunfire left Artie and Bev trapped in the area.
"Trapped in Tivoli!" I exclaimed, horrified.
"Under Dennis' bed," Artie added. "With gunshots whizzing around the house."
"Goodness! What did you do?"
Artie chuckled and picked up the tape recorder. "What every good war correspondent does under fire: I conducted an interview. Want to hear it?"
"Naturally," I said and Artie pressed the Play button.
Here's the under-the-bed conversation, which was accompanied by the sound of barrages of gunshots, that I heard.
Artie: I'm going to get this on Breakfast Club, so you guys speak clearly into the mike, okay?
Bev: Me too frighten to talk, yaw! Dennis, you have anything to say to the listeners in radio land?
Dennis: Me jus dying to get outa dis place.
Bev: Doan talk bout death, Dennis! If one o' dem bullets mek mistake an lick you, you gawn home right away.
Artie: Who is firing, can you tell?
Bev: Me doan know if is de police or de criminal, but two a dem shoot hot same way.
Dennis: You know weh me waan go live? Upper St. Andrew, like de MP fah de area.
Artie: You thinking of going into politics and becoming MP?
Bev: Doan boddah wid dat, Dennis. It too dangerous. Mi jus hear pon de radio seh police shoot at Missa Golding.
Dennis: But me not into politics now, and look weh me deh under mi bed a hide from shot. If me was living in Norbrook, dis wouldn't happen to me.
Bev: You doan haffi get into politics to live dere.
Dennis: Is true. De don fah TG live in big St Andrew house, too.
Artie: So you'd like to become a don, instead?
Bev: Missa Artie, stop dem sorta ideas in mi breddah head.
Dennis: Whatever mi do, me haffi come outa TG. De police love invade de place too much.
Bev: Dem searching fah
gunmen.
Dennis: But dem never find any, an dem always shoot innocent people. So like how me innocent, me in danger.
Artie: From the very police who are supposed to protect you. There's a certain irony in that.
Dennis: Is thousands of people in TG under dem beds right now, like we. Dat couldn't be right, Artie.
Artie: What you going to do?
Dennis: I want you help me write a letter to the Speaker of de House of Representatives to get a debate on how a ordinary man like me can escape from Tivoli and go live in Norbrook.
Bev: Dem wi only debate it if is a matter of national importance.
Dennis: Is more dan dat to me. Is a matter of life and death.
Artie turned off the tape recorder and I asked if he had helped Dennis with the letter.
"I was going to," Artie said. "But now I'm wondering if the Speaker would look favourably on a letter coming from a resident of the 'mother of all garrisons' if he won't allow a debate on a claim the Leader of the Opposition was shot at by the police."
