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Time of water-wash and mudslides
Barbara Gloudon
Friday, November 09, 2007
AS THE AIRCRAFT began its descent into "Jamaica Land We Love", as far as the eye could see, the landscape was a carpet of deep, lush green. In all my time of revelling in the sight of JA from the air, it was the first I'd ever seen it look like it did on Monday afternoon.
Almost three weeks of rain had brought about a transformation. Every mountain and hilltop was blanketed with vegetation, which looked as if dark green dye had been poured on. None of the usual brown outcroppings of rock were to be seen. It was weird, in a strange, majestic kind of way.
When we returned to earth, after passing through a heavy cloud cover, the rain was beating down once again. Outside the terminal building, it was not a happy situation. Exit from the baggage area was through a short passageway which was thoroughly soaked. Water was running over the tops of shoes and sloshing over luggage. Persons who had come to meet those arriving were huddled into a damp and anxious bunch.
The joy of homecoming was considerably muted as passengers slogged through the water, dragging themselves and their wet-up bags. Further along, two tents pretended to be offering shelter, but the water challenge worsened. The tents leaked. Persons gathered under them looked forlorn and as angry as the proverbial wet hens. The rain poured and poured and poured.
Out in the roadway, there was chaos. Drivers were trying to get as near as possible to the edge of the concrete apron separating them from the arrivals. Others were trying to drive, park, wave, call to anxious friends and family, all at the same time. A tall foreign man in a rapidly wilting business suit talked anxiously into his cellphone... an SOS perhaps? The rain went to work on him from above and below. The water pooled on his expensive executive footwear. If his Blackberry was not waterproof, he was in trouble.
Welcome to JA. Now, just suppose this man was one of the highly anticipated investors come to lead us into prosperity, what kinda welcome was this? And, what about me, loyal dawta of the soil and all the other loyal sons and daughters arriving back home? Did we deserve a water-wash welcome?
I've been quite prepared to put up with inconvenience while Norman Manley airport is being expanded and upgraded. I recognise that construction work takes time. I understand why things are not yet up to the full one-hundred, but lawd sah, there is a limit to how much dislocation one can bear. The airport authorities will have to move faster to service the seasonal traffic, which will begin any day now.
THE DEHUMANISING, depressing scenario which I and others experienced on Monday nuh right at all. The two lickle joke tents, passing themselves off as shelter, can barely accommodate the number of persons who take refuge there. Dry weather is bad enough. In bad weather, it is plain insulting. I am no engineering genius, but couldn't the big, open area adjacent to the crumoochin tents be made to facilitate a larger, temporary shelter, so that persons waiting to access transportation do not have to feel like illegal aliens?
The pickup experience itself is another moment from Hell. Amidst luggage piled up all around, passengers wait in an air of stifling anxiety. Despite the best efforts, there's still an assortment of shifty-looking individuals hanging around the airport yard, offering to put your luggage into the vehicle when it finally arrives. It is not the best way to say welcome to Jamaica - certainly not at an airport named after a national hero.
MUD ALL OVER: One very unwanted reminder of the rains has been the landslides on the Gordon Town Road, in the area near Papine, with fatal consequence to one unfortunate resident of the "informal settlement" called Mud Town. It gives me no pleasure to say "I told you so", but we've been conscious of a tragedy which has been in the making for some time now.
Persons who care about the future of the hills in that part of the country (myself among them) have been trying for the longest while to draw attention to the danger posed by the growing settlement on land so fragile that according to old-timers in the area, only goats used to climb up there.
The particular location now in the spotlight, bearing the name of Mud Town (for obvious reasons), was established in the '80s and since then, has grown out of all proportions. Substantial expansion has taken place, totally free-form. When heavy rains turn the soil into a porridge-like mush, it creeps down the hillside and on to the main road below, with ugly consequences.
In the fragile ecology, the land goes its own way, and so do the people. The expansion is not going to stop - unless someone officially takes steps to halt it and put the brakes on the mudslide... but who will? Anyone reckless enough to point out the danger of the situation and the necessity for relocation is regarded as an enemy of "poor people"... and that has consequences which few want to take on.
DID TRANSPORT MINISTER Mike Henry take his ministerial power too far in the debacle with Richard Branson, the Virgin Atlantic head backra, in the Air Jamaica London route issue? While Mikey "chaw fire", calling down thunder pon Babylon, the Branson landed - very British, very toothy, very confident, very rich, brushing aside Bredda Mike's posturing with the reminder that he, the Virgin head honcho, possessed that important thing called a CONTRACT.
While Mikey huffed and puffed, hoping to blow the Virgin down, Sir Rich met with Brucie for a big-man chat. Then, it was on to Goldeneye where martinis were stirred, not shaken, in the spirit of James Bond who was born right there in Oracabessa. At the height of the luncheon festivities, our Man Mike arrived late-ish, but arrived all the same, unlike when he boycotted two previous "Welcome, Virgin" bashes. Sir Richard rewarded him with a big jaw-kiss and hug, for benefit of the paparazzi. (Hey, watch it guys. This is Jamaica!)
Then, the Virgin Chief was off to London again. And what of our Main Man Mike? Air Jamaica has been removed from his portfolio. Oh well!
THOUGHT OF THE DAY: When is a light bulb dim? When politicians are in charge of the switch.
Gloudonb@yahoo.com
Barbara Gloudon
Friday, November 09, 2007
AS THE AIRCRAFT began its descent into "Jamaica Land We Love", as far as the eye could see, the landscape was a carpet of deep, lush green. In all my time of revelling in the sight of JA from the air, it was the first I'd ever seen it look like it did on Monday afternoon.
Almost three weeks of rain had brought about a transformation. Every mountain and hilltop was blanketed with vegetation, which looked as if dark green dye had been poured on. None of the usual brown outcroppings of rock were to be seen. It was weird, in a strange, majestic kind of way.
When we returned to earth, after passing through a heavy cloud cover, the rain was beating down once again. Outside the terminal building, it was not a happy situation. Exit from the baggage area was through a short passageway which was thoroughly soaked. Water was running over the tops of shoes and sloshing over luggage. Persons who had come to meet those arriving were huddled into a damp and anxious bunch.
The joy of homecoming was considerably muted as passengers slogged through the water, dragging themselves and their wet-up bags. Further along, two tents pretended to be offering shelter, but the water challenge worsened. The tents leaked. Persons gathered under them looked forlorn and as angry as the proverbial wet hens. The rain poured and poured and poured.
Out in the roadway, there was chaos. Drivers were trying to get as near as possible to the edge of the concrete apron separating them from the arrivals. Others were trying to drive, park, wave, call to anxious friends and family, all at the same time. A tall foreign man in a rapidly wilting business suit talked anxiously into his cellphone... an SOS perhaps? The rain went to work on him from above and below. The water pooled on his expensive executive footwear. If his Blackberry was not waterproof, he was in trouble.
Welcome to JA. Now, just suppose this man was one of the highly anticipated investors come to lead us into prosperity, what kinda welcome was this? And, what about me, loyal dawta of the soil and all the other loyal sons and daughters arriving back home? Did we deserve a water-wash welcome?
I've been quite prepared to put up with inconvenience while Norman Manley airport is being expanded and upgraded. I recognise that construction work takes time. I understand why things are not yet up to the full one-hundred, but lawd sah, there is a limit to how much dislocation one can bear. The airport authorities will have to move faster to service the seasonal traffic, which will begin any day now.
THE DEHUMANISING, depressing scenario which I and others experienced on Monday nuh right at all. The two lickle joke tents, passing themselves off as shelter, can barely accommodate the number of persons who take refuge there. Dry weather is bad enough. In bad weather, it is plain insulting. I am no engineering genius, but couldn't the big, open area adjacent to the crumoochin tents be made to facilitate a larger, temporary shelter, so that persons waiting to access transportation do not have to feel like illegal aliens?
The pickup experience itself is another moment from Hell. Amidst luggage piled up all around, passengers wait in an air of stifling anxiety. Despite the best efforts, there's still an assortment of shifty-looking individuals hanging around the airport yard, offering to put your luggage into the vehicle when it finally arrives. It is not the best way to say welcome to Jamaica - certainly not at an airport named after a national hero.
MUD ALL OVER: One very unwanted reminder of the rains has been the landslides on the Gordon Town Road, in the area near Papine, with fatal consequence to one unfortunate resident of the "informal settlement" called Mud Town. It gives me no pleasure to say "I told you so", but we've been conscious of a tragedy which has been in the making for some time now.
Persons who care about the future of the hills in that part of the country (myself among them) have been trying for the longest while to draw attention to the danger posed by the growing settlement on land so fragile that according to old-timers in the area, only goats used to climb up there.
The particular location now in the spotlight, bearing the name of Mud Town (for obvious reasons), was established in the '80s and since then, has grown out of all proportions. Substantial expansion has taken place, totally free-form. When heavy rains turn the soil into a porridge-like mush, it creeps down the hillside and on to the main road below, with ugly consequences.
In the fragile ecology, the land goes its own way, and so do the people. The expansion is not going to stop - unless someone officially takes steps to halt it and put the brakes on the mudslide... but who will? Anyone reckless enough to point out the danger of the situation and the necessity for relocation is regarded as an enemy of "poor people"... and that has consequences which few want to take on.
DID TRANSPORT MINISTER Mike Henry take his ministerial power too far in the debacle with Richard Branson, the Virgin Atlantic head backra, in the Air Jamaica London route issue? While Mikey "chaw fire", calling down thunder pon Babylon, the Branson landed - very British, very toothy, very confident, very rich, brushing aside Bredda Mike's posturing with the reminder that he, the Virgin head honcho, possessed that important thing called a CONTRACT.
While Mikey huffed and puffed, hoping to blow the Virgin down, Sir Rich met with Brucie for a big-man chat. Then, it was on to Goldeneye where martinis were stirred, not shaken, in the spirit of James Bond who was born right there in Oracabessa. At the height of the luncheon festivities, our Man Mike arrived late-ish, but arrived all the same, unlike when he boycotted two previous "Welcome, Virgin" bashes. Sir Richard rewarded him with a big jaw-kiss and hug, for benefit of the paparazzi. (Hey, watch it guys. This is Jamaica!)
Then, the Virgin Chief was off to London again. And what of our Main Man Mike? Air Jamaica has been removed from his portfolio. Oh well!
THOUGHT OF THE DAY: When is a light bulb dim? When politicians are in charge of the switch.
Gloudonb@yahoo.com