Colin Steer, Associate Editor - Opinion
PHILIP CURTIN'S Two Jamaicas, a study on Jamaica's social stratification in the immediate post-Emancipation period, has been a mandatory text for students of West Indian/Caribbean history since it was first published in the mid 1970s. That title has often served as a metaphor for many subsequent studies on our society. In 2006, we have evolved well beyond two Jamaicas and the chasms are widening.
On a recent journey back to the Gleaner's North Street offices, I drove along the Spanish Town Road industrial belt, through the Portia Simpson Miller Square past Tavares Gardens and the decrepit lower section of Maxfield Avenue, turned left on North Street into sections of Denham Town, drove behind the Kingston Public Hospital, along Charles Street and back up Princess Street and turned right again on North Street. The general run-down condition of the area was a grim reminder of the massive urban social blight that has overtaken large sections of the Corporate Area. The scene could be replicated all over Jamaica.
TESTOSTERONE OVERDRIVE
At 3:30 in the afternoon, the pavements and streets were teeming with hundreds, perhaps thousands of blossoming young women strolling by in groups being teased or pawed by young men seemingly in testosterone overdrive, who were themselves idling at the street corners or just moving about almost aimlessly. At the corner of Charles and Princess streets, a shirtless young man rocked to and fro to the rhythm of some music he alone could hear in his head as he puffed on a chillum pipe a little longer than his forearm. Some business was being transacted in a few establishments but by and large, it was a mass of idle humanity.
For many of us, these scenes are far removed from our daily experiences. We get near to them only as we travel the corridors of these communities to and from work each day or for the occasional visit for business downtown Kingston. The areas are relatively quiet now. There are no upheavals causing people to spill out onto the streets in violent confrontations. But for how long will things remain quiet?
There has been much talk about the need for social intervention programmes and skills training to tap this reservoir of youthful energy and vigour. But what is required is so massive and so urgent as to give one a migraine for weeks just thinking about it. Yet the conditions cannot be ignored for long. For, as it is with termites that may be hidden from view in a house, they soon crawl out of the woodwork. By the time we discover the size of their nests, the building may be close to being destroyed. Many of us will take refuge in our gated communities. We may seek tougher policing methods to keep 'those people' in their places. But they will not stay there for long.
LIFE OF CRIME
This is not to suggest that these residents are obliged to turn to a life of crime or that what is required are large dollops of financial handouts. But assuming they have a desire to get out and work, in the absence of productive and social skills, where are they going to find gainful employment?
The collaborative work required of Jamaica's captains of industry, government and social leaders is past urgent. Some attempts are being made with new houses being built. But where people have no work, how do they keep these houses in reasonably good condition? How long will it be before broken sewerage systems and mounds of uncollected garbage become the norm, and the brightly-coloured buildings lose their lustre? Should we just write off this set of young people as a lost generation? And after that, what? The volcano is rumbling. Who is listening? We continue to ignore these conditions to our collective peril.
