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Lucea Infirmary a national disgrace
Friday, May 25, 2007
The report on the front page of yesterday's edition of our sister paper, the Observer West, points to a most unsavoury state of affairs in an administration which purports to put people first.
In fact, the report, which speaks to the Lucea Infirmary's desperation to relocate from the dilapidated, old buildings to a sturdier locale in the face of the start of the hurricane season on June 1, illustrates the downright mockery being made of the poor people that the Government, through its administrative head, Prime Minister Portia Simpson Miller, says it prides itself in loving.
According to Mr Dwight Wilson, director of technical services in the Ministry of Local Government, which is responsible for the financing of the home, efforts to find a suitable location to construct a new infirmary have so far not yielded any fruit.
This, we submit, is simply not good enough. If Lucea does not have a suitable alternative location to build a home, it simply means that alternative arrangements have to be made.
In any case, we find it unbelievable that the parish of Hanover cannot accommodate an infirmary. We suspect that the inability on the part of the relevant authorities to find a suitable location stems from a callous disregard for the 53 inmates and indeed the others who will eventually end up at the home. What else could explain the existence of a problem that, according to the story, was identified almost two decades ago in the wake of Hurricane Gilbert in 1988 and made worse by Hurricane Ivan in 2004?
Are we really to believe that serious efforts were made to avoid the current situation, which, according to the story, features crumbling, rotting wards with cracked walls and huge holes in the ceiling?
Is it really possible that the ability to put a decent roof over the heads of the inmates so that the officials of the infirmary don't have to shuffle them to the centre of the ward - like cattle - to avoid getting wet when it rains, is really too much to ask?
According to Lucea's deputy mayor, Councillor Audley Gilpin, it is unlikely that the buildings will withstand another hurricane. What if, God forbid, the next hurricane that comes our way takes the building and some lives with it?
Could those charged with the responsibility of moving the infirmary really escape being guilty of a crime - in this case manslaughter - against the background of what, after the publication of yesterday's story and this editorial, must qualify as certain knowledge of the impending danger?
We think not. But the reality is that in this country, where national disgraces like the Lucea infirmary are allowed to remain in vogue, it would be naïve of us not to realise that it is being poor and having to fall on the mercy of the state that constitutes the real crime.
Friday, May 25, 2007
The report on the front page of yesterday's edition of our sister paper, the Observer West, points to a most unsavoury state of affairs in an administration which purports to put people first.
In fact, the report, which speaks to the Lucea Infirmary's desperation to relocate from the dilapidated, old buildings to a sturdier locale in the face of the start of the hurricane season on June 1, illustrates the downright mockery being made of the poor people that the Government, through its administrative head, Prime Minister Portia Simpson Miller, says it prides itself in loving.
According to Mr Dwight Wilson, director of technical services in the Ministry of Local Government, which is responsible for the financing of the home, efforts to find a suitable location to construct a new infirmary have so far not yielded any fruit.
This, we submit, is simply not good enough. If Lucea does not have a suitable alternative location to build a home, it simply means that alternative arrangements have to be made.
In any case, we find it unbelievable that the parish of Hanover cannot accommodate an infirmary. We suspect that the inability on the part of the relevant authorities to find a suitable location stems from a callous disregard for the 53 inmates and indeed the others who will eventually end up at the home. What else could explain the existence of a problem that, according to the story, was identified almost two decades ago in the wake of Hurricane Gilbert in 1988 and made worse by Hurricane Ivan in 2004?
Are we really to believe that serious efforts were made to avoid the current situation, which, according to the story, features crumbling, rotting wards with cracked walls and huge holes in the ceiling?
Is it really possible that the ability to put a decent roof over the heads of the inmates so that the officials of the infirmary don't have to shuffle them to the centre of the ward - like cattle - to avoid getting wet when it rains, is really too much to ask?
According to Lucea's deputy mayor, Councillor Audley Gilpin, it is unlikely that the buildings will withstand another hurricane. What if, God forbid, the next hurricane that comes our way takes the building and some lives with it?
Could those charged with the responsibility of moving the infirmary really escape being guilty of a crime - in this case manslaughter - against the background of what, after the publication of yesterday's story and this editorial, must qualify as certain knowledge of the impending danger?
We think not. But the reality is that in this country, where national disgraces like the Lucea infirmary are allowed to remain in vogue, it would be naïve of us not to realise that it is being poor and having to fall on the mercy of the state that constitutes the real crime.
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