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No Mark, a foreign army did not invade Jamaica, the dons must go. The bottom line is that the umemployed have must to have a source of income or access to free food and services or they will die. Crime is just another source of income, rather that pay the dons, we should be paying the poor man directly through workfare or wellfare.
Political will and police action needed to fight crime
Wignall's WorldMark Wignall
Sunday, May 11, 2008
The Fiesta hotel at Point, Lucea, showing an illegal groyne under construction and limestone pollution of the reef
Between the many peaks and troughs of the violent crime wave that has beset this country since the mid-1970s are a similar number of experts who have completed a mountain of studies on crime in Jamaica.
If we make the safe assumption that money was spent in conducting these studies and preparing the respective reports, then for all the usefulness that they have had in keeping violent crime within reasonable limits, we can easily conclude that the money and the time involved were grandly wasted.
The numerous theories that we have about the various reasons for the many spikes in between the lulls have themselves not taken us any closer to taming the crime monster. Knowing that the many inner-city pockets with garrison-like links to the either the PNP or the JLP are both the breeding grounds for criminality and safe havens for young men with high-powered automatic weaponry and no shortage of ammunition ought to tell us that the authorities (politicians/police) should have, long ago, met with the respective 'dons' for these pockets in an effort to head off violent criminality at the pass.
Many of our politicians are of the view that maintaining a self-righteous image is what the constituents desire first. While most politicians are content to link with the criminal dregs of the respective communities in seeking power, once that power has been sealed by a voting win, the dregs and their unfortunate followers are abandoned until the next election when their robotic behaviour is once again needed.
SMITH. hoping for a speedy recovery
That is where I believe our politicians have erred most grievously.
From Montego Bay and Falmouth in the west to the many pockets of criminality in the Kingston Metropolitan area there are well-delineated communities with strong loyalties to either the PNP or the JLP. It is my belief that the links made by the politicians with criminal dons during the run-up to elections should be taken one step further.
Let us appreciate some facts. The dons for the majority of these areas attained their rank by being the most violent, most feared for many years. So whether he is called 'area leader,' 'dads' or 'don', he is the person who has most made his name by murdering at will, often from his preteen years.
Like most people in similar positions, once the don has made his reputation by being a killing machine, he then surrounds himself with 'soldiers,' all of whom are quite willing to do his bidding. Most of these 'soldiers' grew up without father figures and were no strangers to physical abuse from a young age. Most have been exposed to a schooling which was never seen as any great priority in their lives, so most are illiterate and are only numerate in counting gunshots and money.
MEETING A DON AND HIS SOLDIERS
Quite apart from the many 'semi-dons' and pretenders who want to 'run a lane' or control 'a corners', there are a few dons in Jamaica, no more than about five, who wield absolute power. The first qualification is the link to big money in the trading and handling of crack cocaine.
Second is the controlling of extortion within the don's area of influence.
Third, the don usually has links to government contracts if he is himself not a contractor with strong ties to one political party. Even if he is not a contractor, his influence ensures that whatever significant project is taking place within his reach, he must 'eat a food' off the project.
A few years ago I met one of the dons and struck up for a brief while a loose form of acquaintanceship. He was a charming man who had an easy smile, and one could sense that he was a hit with the ladies. Acting against advice, I maintained contact with him for a few months and learned much in that short period.
The fourth qualification to be a don in the big leagues is the 'owning' of entire police jurisdictions. Now while a 'baby don' or a young man headed for a life of violent crime and an early meeting with a gravestone may have a pet policeman or two whom he will always liaise with 'just in case,' the real don has no such petty illusions.
In this connection, I am reminded of an incident which was reported to me by an 'insider' a few years ago. In a police jurisdiction close to the north coastal areas, there was a change in leadership. Two weeks after the new superintendent arrived in his post the don visited. He barged past the lesser ranks and entered the superintendent's office as if he had an ownership title for the police station. In one hand was a small briefcase.
He introduced himself, plopped down the case on the supe's desk, opened it (packed with many thousands of dollars) and said before he turned and left haughtily, 'You work for me now.'
But back to my meeting with the don. After we had lunch together one day, he led me through a gate and took me to an adjoining building. Around a long, crude wooden table sat about eight young men having their meals. 'These are my soldiers,' he said.
I would estimate that their ages ranged between 18 and 28. Their eyes were cold and forbidding and no one smiled or gave me a second glance or even answered when I said, 'Gentlemen, how are you?' Each of them had at least one long scar on his face,and their heads were wrapped with scarves bearing the colour of their political party. In plain language, they were evil incarnate. As we walked back to his main office the don said , 'Anything mi tell dem fi do, dem do. Dem love mi yu si.'
My don friend had the capacity to turn on and off the violence in his reach, whenever violence was deemed necessary, such as to prove a point in extortion, to throw off the police in other jurisdictions or on behalf of his politician friends, one of whom he referred to as 'the boss.' And in those respects he was very effective.
A SHAMEFUL ACT ON MY PART
Some years ago I was travelling in from a deep rural hill country. As I arrived in the hell that the KMA can be after a therapeutically healing trip to the country, I came upon a traffic light. A young man approached the car with squeegee and pan. I waved him away but still he came. I wound down the window and must admit that my response in words to him were quite unkind even as he was still splashing dirty, soapy water on my windshield.
From the passenger seat my lady motored up the windows. From my side, I switched it back down while telling him a few Jamaican cuss words. My lady upped the windows again and urged me to break the traffic lights. With the anger raging, I wound it down again and then I saw him with an open ratchet knife approaching the car.
The light changed just as my lady had the window up again. My windshield was badly soiled with what appeared to be oily water. And of course I was fit to be tied.
The next day I called the don and related the incident to him, as it had occurred in his 'reach.' "What, a man like you should never be treated that way in this country. That is just not good enough," he said.
I insisted that I wanted no harm to come to any of the boys who were manning the intersection. 'Have no fear,' he said. 'That's not how I operate.'
The next day he called me and said. 'You or no one else will have any more problems at that intersection. Him get a good lesson an' from now on him will know how fi behave.'
POLITICIANS, DONS, POLICE MUST SIT DOWN AND HAVE SECRET TALKS
It is always easy to heap our frustrations with violent crime on the head of Security Minister Derrick Smith. At this time, I am not prepared to cast blame on him, especially in light of the poor health being experienced by the minister. In the interim I wish him most sincerely the speediest of recoveries.
It is my belief that the police and the political directorship need to sit down with selected dons and once and for all apply a radical 'out of the box' approach.
It is known that most of the violent crime emanates from the relatively few-inner city pockets. Once the crime -aggravated robbery, wounding, murder, rape - is committed, the perpetrators know that once they head back to the ghetto, they can blend in like a wave on the water's surface.
The rough outline of this 'meeting' would be to ensure that once the criminal commits himself outside the ghetto, he will not be allowed back in. What would be in it for the don?
As a condition, massive projects of the self-help type or cooperatives especially where it assists the womenfolk will have to be instituted. The objective would be to upend the inner-city areas with a focus on ultimately dismantling the garrison. In this connection funding must be sought from wherever, including an increase in taxes. Where it will be seen that the whole exercise will be an investment in a safer country, the political directorate cannot afford to listen to every convenient do-gooder who wants the stamp of goodness on every project or those who like to criticise because, well, criticism sounds like real action.
The don will have to be 'accommodated' because he will be suffering a loss of earnings. The deal is, the don will not sanction violent criminality where the perpetrators reside in the ghetto. Once the crime is committed, the criminal will not be allowed back in. Once the criminal is left outside of his safe haven, the job for the police will be easier.
THE NASTY REALITY OF DON-SHIP
An ex-policeman recently stated the following: 'The criminal underworld players in Jamaica, euphemistically called Dons, send out their "soldiers", EVERY Thursday evenings or Friday mornings to different points in Jamaica. These will then rob, kill, maim and inflict general mayhem over the weekends. Check the crime statistics and see how many have been robbed, shot or killed between Thursdays-Sundays this year and all the other years.
'Criminals from BOTH political parties in the garrison areas are involved here, depending on WHO IS IN POWER!!! Guns and vehicles are returned on Monday mornings, then the loot is divided, with the lion's share going to the don. If any of these criminals are caught or killed during their weekend blitz, they will be disowned by their area leader.
'Maybe the time has come for the government to do what the US military has done in Iraq... create an unholy alliance with these warlords to save thousands of Jamaican lives and enhance tranquillity and economic growth in Jamaica.'
It is this very 'unholy alliance' that I am referring to.
The responsibility of the don would be to ensure that work on the inner-city projects is carried out without 'incident,' that is, no undue overruns due to stealing and stoppages. He must also patrol his borders and ensure that no criminals who 'worked' that weekend or whenever return to the garrison.
The police and the political directorate would ensure that any 'police problems' that the don had be conveniently erased. While the mechanics of funding the don will take some infernal thinking on the part of some Machiavellian technocrat/politician, it is, I believe, an option that we should consider.
There are some communities where other options will have to be employed but once we begin to put work in the ghetto, not just more housing to create living spaces for criminals, it will not only bring development and sustainable employment to the troubled young men, but the wider society will benefit as some pressure is eased off scared Jamaicans, now afraid of their shadows in these ominous times.
Over the next few months, I will be developing the mechanics of this rough plan with the hope that some brave soul in the political directorate will see some merit in it.
DEAR MOTHERS, YOU ARE THE ESSENCE OF GOODNESS
Even as a baby inside of you, I could feel your love for me although I didn't know it then. In that last amniotic swim to life you held me, loved me, fed me and later kept me clean.
In the many instances where the fathers ran off like the irresponsible lot that too many of them are, you never considered leaving your child to the cold air of being motherless.
How did you live through the many nights when I must have stretched your patience to its limit? And how did you do all that with so many other mouths to feed, so many other eyes needing yours and seeking your love?
In times of illness, I would have bled for you had I known a short cut to health. You could have become frustrated and I am certain you did, but you struggled on even as my mouth uttered the first sounds of 'Mama,' even as I cried as the doctor stuck me back to health.
I was never a bad child even when I was rotten to the core. You made me seem so special, so protected, so wanted. I never did like the spankings and to be honest, at times I was downright scared. But your touch was gentle and even funny as I easily ducked under the soft slipper you threw at me in frustration.
I remember falling in the newly dug pit, with water in it. I remember Daddy rushing to haul me out and you both rushing me to the doctor to sample his awful-tasting chalky white water. But guess what, I never forgot the bottle of Coca Cola Daddy got me. One whole bottle! All for myself.
I remember when the dogs bit me so bad and at 11 years old I cried. Not so much because I was scared and in pain but because I was crying. I cried because of the embarrassment of crying. If you were here, I know that you would understand me, as complex as I would be at times.
I remember Daddy's bald head and you would always joke about it. You guys really loved each other and were always playing. Wherever you are, Mama, I just want to let you know that Daddy is 88 and he still misses you. Did you know that he cried as you slipped away. Yes, he did, and it was the first time I saw him do that, something I still have a problem with- crying.
I still gaze at the picture now. Me in my KC blazer as he snapped away. Could someone not have told me to smile. I still remember that term when I tried so hard to prove that I could be as bad and 'big' and rotten as any other schoolboy. You and I sat down with 'Dougs' of blessed memory and he said, 'Sonny, I will give you one chance to prove yourself.' You sat beside me and you cried. And as I write, my insides are bleeding for you, weeping for you, missing you, wishing that there could be something that I could have done, should have done to keep you here longer.
You never wavered in your faith in me. You saw something in me even when I was blind to myself. For this reason I have rejected the fast track to life, and my ultimate judge is that voice inside of me saying, 'If I do this, what would Mama think?' So far it has served me well.
I never said enough, never did enough, and never had the closeness with you that my sisters had. Maybe I was afraid because the love I had for you was too much. Too much to express?
Now you are gone and I will not have that chance to tell you how very much I love you still.
observemark@gmail.com
Political will and police action needed to fight crime
Wignall's WorldMark Wignall
Sunday, May 11, 2008
The Fiesta hotel at Point, Lucea, showing an illegal groyne under construction and limestone pollution of the reef Between the many peaks and troughs of the violent crime wave that has beset this country since the mid-1970s are a similar number of experts who have completed a mountain of studies on crime in Jamaica.
If we make the safe assumption that money was spent in conducting these studies and preparing the respective reports, then for all the usefulness that they have had in keeping violent crime within reasonable limits, we can easily conclude that the money and the time involved were grandly wasted.
The numerous theories that we have about the various reasons for the many spikes in between the lulls have themselves not taken us any closer to taming the crime monster. Knowing that the many inner-city pockets with garrison-like links to the either the PNP or the JLP are both the breeding grounds for criminality and safe havens for young men with high-powered automatic weaponry and no shortage of ammunition ought to tell us that the authorities (politicians/police) should have, long ago, met with the respective 'dons' for these pockets in an effort to head off violent criminality at the pass.
Many of our politicians are of the view that maintaining a self-righteous image is what the constituents desire first. While most politicians are content to link with the criminal dregs of the respective communities in seeking power, once that power has been sealed by a voting win, the dregs and their unfortunate followers are abandoned until the next election when their robotic behaviour is once again needed.
SMITH. hoping for a speedy recovery
That is where I believe our politicians have erred most grievously.
From Montego Bay and Falmouth in the west to the many pockets of criminality in the Kingston Metropolitan area there are well-delineated communities with strong loyalties to either the PNP or the JLP. It is my belief that the links made by the politicians with criminal dons during the run-up to elections should be taken one step further.
Let us appreciate some facts. The dons for the majority of these areas attained their rank by being the most violent, most feared for many years. So whether he is called 'area leader,' 'dads' or 'don', he is the person who has most made his name by murdering at will, often from his preteen years.
Like most people in similar positions, once the don has made his reputation by being a killing machine, he then surrounds himself with 'soldiers,' all of whom are quite willing to do his bidding. Most of these 'soldiers' grew up without father figures and were no strangers to physical abuse from a young age. Most have been exposed to a schooling which was never seen as any great priority in their lives, so most are illiterate and are only numerate in counting gunshots and money.
MEETING A DON AND HIS SOLDIERS
Quite apart from the many 'semi-dons' and pretenders who want to 'run a lane' or control 'a corners', there are a few dons in Jamaica, no more than about five, who wield absolute power. The first qualification is the link to big money in the trading and handling of crack cocaine.
Second is the controlling of extortion within the don's area of influence.
Third, the don usually has links to government contracts if he is himself not a contractor with strong ties to one political party. Even if he is not a contractor, his influence ensures that whatever significant project is taking place within his reach, he must 'eat a food' off the project.
A few years ago I met one of the dons and struck up for a brief while a loose form of acquaintanceship. He was a charming man who had an easy smile, and one could sense that he was a hit with the ladies. Acting against advice, I maintained contact with him for a few months and learned much in that short period.
The fourth qualification to be a don in the big leagues is the 'owning' of entire police jurisdictions. Now while a 'baby don' or a young man headed for a life of violent crime and an early meeting with a gravestone may have a pet policeman or two whom he will always liaise with 'just in case,' the real don has no such petty illusions.
In this connection, I am reminded of an incident which was reported to me by an 'insider' a few years ago. In a police jurisdiction close to the north coastal areas, there was a change in leadership. Two weeks after the new superintendent arrived in his post the don visited. He barged past the lesser ranks and entered the superintendent's office as if he had an ownership title for the police station. In one hand was a small briefcase.
He introduced himself, plopped down the case on the supe's desk, opened it (packed with many thousands of dollars) and said before he turned and left haughtily, 'You work for me now.'
But back to my meeting with the don. After we had lunch together one day, he led me through a gate and took me to an adjoining building. Around a long, crude wooden table sat about eight young men having their meals. 'These are my soldiers,' he said.
I would estimate that their ages ranged between 18 and 28. Their eyes were cold and forbidding and no one smiled or gave me a second glance or even answered when I said, 'Gentlemen, how are you?' Each of them had at least one long scar on his face,and their heads were wrapped with scarves bearing the colour of their political party. In plain language, they were evil incarnate. As we walked back to his main office the don said , 'Anything mi tell dem fi do, dem do. Dem love mi yu si.'
My don friend had the capacity to turn on and off the violence in his reach, whenever violence was deemed necessary, such as to prove a point in extortion, to throw off the police in other jurisdictions or on behalf of his politician friends, one of whom he referred to as 'the boss.' And in those respects he was very effective.
A SHAMEFUL ACT ON MY PART
Some years ago I was travelling in from a deep rural hill country. As I arrived in the hell that the KMA can be after a therapeutically healing trip to the country, I came upon a traffic light. A young man approached the car with squeegee and pan. I waved him away but still he came. I wound down the window and must admit that my response in words to him were quite unkind even as he was still splashing dirty, soapy water on my windshield.
From the passenger seat my lady motored up the windows. From my side, I switched it back down while telling him a few Jamaican cuss words. My lady upped the windows again and urged me to break the traffic lights. With the anger raging, I wound it down again and then I saw him with an open ratchet knife approaching the car.
The light changed just as my lady had the window up again. My windshield was badly soiled with what appeared to be oily water. And of course I was fit to be tied.
The next day I called the don and related the incident to him, as it had occurred in his 'reach.' "What, a man like you should never be treated that way in this country. That is just not good enough," he said.
I insisted that I wanted no harm to come to any of the boys who were manning the intersection. 'Have no fear,' he said. 'That's not how I operate.'
The next day he called me and said. 'You or no one else will have any more problems at that intersection. Him get a good lesson an' from now on him will know how fi behave.'
POLITICIANS, DONS, POLICE MUST SIT DOWN AND HAVE SECRET TALKS
It is always easy to heap our frustrations with violent crime on the head of Security Minister Derrick Smith. At this time, I am not prepared to cast blame on him, especially in light of the poor health being experienced by the minister. In the interim I wish him most sincerely the speediest of recoveries.
It is my belief that the police and the political directorship need to sit down with selected dons and once and for all apply a radical 'out of the box' approach.
It is known that most of the violent crime emanates from the relatively few-inner city pockets. Once the crime -aggravated robbery, wounding, murder, rape - is committed, the perpetrators know that once they head back to the ghetto, they can blend in like a wave on the water's surface.
The rough outline of this 'meeting' would be to ensure that once the criminal commits himself outside the ghetto, he will not be allowed back in. What would be in it for the don?
As a condition, massive projects of the self-help type or cooperatives especially where it assists the womenfolk will have to be instituted. The objective would be to upend the inner-city areas with a focus on ultimately dismantling the garrison. In this connection funding must be sought from wherever, including an increase in taxes. Where it will be seen that the whole exercise will be an investment in a safer country, the political directorate cannot afford to listen to every convenient do-gooder who wants the stamp of goodness on every project or those who like to criticise because, well, criticism sounds like real action.
The don will have to be 'accommodated' because he will be suffering a loss of earnings. The deal is, the don will not sanction violent criminality where the perpetrators reside in the ghetto. Once the crime is committed, the criminal will not be allowed back in. Once the criminal is left outside of his safe haven, the job for the police will be easier.
THE NASTY REALITY OF DON-SHIP
An ex-policeman recently stated the following: 'The criminal underworld players in Jamaica, euphemistically called Dons, send out their "soldiers", EVERY Thursday evenings or Friday mornings to different points in Jamaica. These will then rob, kill, maim and inflict general mayhem over the weekends. Check the crime statistics and see how many have been robbed, shot or killed between Thursdays-Sundays this year and all the other years.
'Criminals from BOTH political parties in the garrison areas are involved here, depending on WHO IS IN POWER!!! Guns and vehicles are returned on Monday mornings, then the loot is divided, with the lion's share going to the don. If any of these criminals are caught or killed during their weekend blitz, they will be disowned by their area leader.
'Maybe the time has come for the government to do what the US military has done in Iraq... create an unholy alliance with these warlords to save thousands of Jamaican lives and enhance tranquillity and economic growth in Jamaica.'
It is this very 'unholy alliance' that I am referring to.
The responsibility of the don would be to ensure that work on the inner-city projects is carried out without 'incident,' that is, no undue overruns due to stealing and stoppages. He must also patrol his borders and ensure that no criminals who 'worked' that weekend or whenever return to the garrison.
The police and the political directorate would ensure that any 'police problems' that the don had be conveniently erased. While the mechanics of funding the don will take some infernal thinking on the part of some Machiavellian technocrat/politician, it is, I believe, an option that we should consider.
There are some communities where other options will have to be employed but once we begin to put work in the ghetto, not just more housing to create living spaces for criminals, it will not only bring development and sustainable employment to the troubled young men, but the wider society will benefit as some pressure is eased off scared Jamaicans, now afraid of their shadows in these ominous times.
Over the next few months, I will be developing the mechanics of this rough plan with the hope that some brave soul in the political directorate will see some merit in it.
DEAR MOTHERS, YOU ARE THE ESSENCE OF GOODNESS
Even as a baby inside of you, I could feel your love for me although I didn't know it then. In that last amniotic swim to life you held me, loved me, fed me and later kept me clean.
In the many instances where the fathers ran off like the irresponsible lot that too many of them are, you never considered leaving your child to the cold air of being motherless.
How did you live through the many nights when I must have stretched your patience to its limit? And how did you do all that with so many other mouths to feed, so many other eyes needing yours and seeking your love?
In times of illness, I would have bled for you had I known a short cut to health. You could have become frustrated and I am certain you did, but you struggled on even as my mouth uttered the first sounds of 'Mama,' even as I cried as the doctor stuck me back to health.
I was never a bad child even when I was rotten to the core. You made me seem so special, so protected, so wanted. I never did like the spankings and to be honest, at times I was downright scared. But your touch was gentle and even funny as I easily ducked under the soft slipper you threw at me in frustration.
I remember falling in the newly dug pit, with water in it. I remember Daddy rushing to haul me out and you both rushing me to the doctor to sample his awful-tasting chalky white water. But guess what, I never forgot the bottle of Coca Cola Daddy got me. One whole bottle! All for myself.
I remember when the dogs bit me so bad and at 11 years old I cried. Not so much because I was scared and in pain but because I was crying. I cried because of the embarrassment of crying. If you were here, I know that you would understand me, as complex as I would be at times.
I remember Daddy's bald head and you would always joke about it. You guys really loved each other and were always playing. Wherever you are, Mama, I just want to let you know that Daddy is 88 and he still misses you. Did you know that he cried as you slipped away. Yes, he did, and it was the first time I saw him do that, something I still have a problem with- crying.
I still gaze at the picture now. Me in my KC blazer as he snapped away. Could someone not have told me to smile. I still remember that term when I tried so hard to prove that I could be as bad and 'big' and rotten as any other schoolboy. You and I sat down with 'Dougs' of blessed memory and he said, 'Sonny, I will give you one chance to prove yourself.' You sat beside me and you cried. And as I write, my insides are bleeding for you, weeping for you, missing you, wishing that there could be something that I could have done, should have done to keep you here longer.
You never wavered in your faith in me. You saw something in me even when I was blind to myself. For this reason I have rejected the fast track to life, and my ultimate judge is that voice inside of me saying, 'If I do this, what would Mama think?' So far it has served me well.
I never said enough, never did enough, and never had the closeness with you that my sisters had. Maybe I was afraid because the love I had for you was too much. Too much to express?
Now you are gone and I will not have that chance to tell you how very much I love you still.
observemark@gmail.com
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