This clown shows up at events around Kingston where children and families gather. The children seem to love him, especially the face-painting. This was taken at the Digital-sponsored concert celebrating Bob Marley’s 70th birthday. The Marley sons, Tessanne Chin, Capleton, Chronixx, No-Maddz, Marcia Griffiths and Judy Mowatt, among others, performed to a large and appreciative crowd. Last year, the concert was held in Trench Town, Marley’s former neighborhood, but it seems Digital has taken over the major celebration of Reggae Month, which goes on throughout February. I wonder how the people in Trench Town feel…

The other day, on a windy, precarious drive back from the country, I witnessed the following in less than 30 minutes, and I will describe them, but first I must set the scene. This road is windy, narrow and is on the coast, often overlooking steep cliffs. People drive fast, with little regard for the conditions, overtaking whenever and wherever. Pedestrians are always risking their safety by walking on the side of the road; of course, there are no sidewalks. Coaster buses and route taxis stop randomly and goats and dogs roam free. Massive trucks also trundle slowly along, often overloaded with rocks or sand and often with what appear to be wobbly wheels. The road also appears corrupted, as it is deeply ridged and rutted.

So first we were driving behind a large dump truck, which all of a sudden dropped a load of white rocks. They were strewn all over the road and the line of cars following had to swerve to avoid one another and the rocks. (I wonder how much these trucks are inspected and regulated. It does not appear to be too often).

Then, we rounded a corner and saw something horrific: a young man, all dressed up in what might have been church clothes, was lying on the sidewalk, his limbs at awkward angles. He was surrounded by a large crowd (we think he was part of a group of young motorcyclists who had sped by us earlier, most without helmets) and people were yelling and crying and screaming. I have checked the papers, but could not find anything about what happened or if a life was lost, but would not be surprised.

Finally, we were on the boulevard right on the harbour and were re-routed by the police. It seems a tanker truck had overturned. I think it spilled its contents but can’t be sure. I don’t think anyone died, though. Feeling rather grateful, we then made our way up to New Kingston but it was treacherous as the roads were flooded from a downpour. (The drainage system is virtually non-existent.)

It is not easy to get around in Jamaica, whether you are a pedestrian or a driver. Last year, there were over 200 fatalities and although the situation appears to be improving, there are still far too many unnecessary deaths. The National Road Safety Council does some good work educating and advocating, but it seems to be an uphill battle if the government does not invest in some basic infrastructure like sidewalks, or if the police do not improve on enforcement. and I haven’t even touched on the issue of getting around if you are a person with a disability.

Today would have been Mr. Robert Nesta Marley’s 70th Birthday.

Nearing the end of the day, over the Kingston Harbour.

I was going to do what is called ‘burying the lede’ with this story, but changed my mind, so here it goes: almost half of all females aged 14-24 in Jamaica are unemployed, while about one quarter of males in this age group are unemployed. 

Think about that for a minute, then continue on with the scene painted by the official government agency, and the story I originally wrote before remaining true to my journalistic roots.

Unemployment rates remain high in Jamaica, although there is reason for optimism. The latest figures in the October 2014 Labour Force Survey from the Statistical Institute of Jamaica reveal an overall increase of 0.5 per cent of people working in the period of Oct. 2014 over Oct. 2013. This means that 1.310,700 people were working compared to 1,304,500 over the same period one year ago.

Statin calls this figure the Labour Force, but then goes on to tell us that the Employed Labour Force in Oct. 2014 was 1,124,500 versus 1,110,500 for Oct. 2013. This is confusing- I’m not sure what the difference is. In any case, the figures appear to represent a positive trend, although it is always instructive to ask how many people gave up looking for work, but this figure is not in the report.

Put another way, Jamaica’s unemployment rate is 14.2 per cent, with a shocking discrepancy between males and females (quoting from the report):

Breaking the number down further, the unemployment rate amongst youth (14-24) remains alarmingly high at 36 per cent versus 37.7 per cent for Oct. 2014 versus Oct. 2013. It gets even worse when broken down by gender (again, quoting from the report):

The sectors that fared the best (in terms of an uptick in people working) are (from the report again):

Rae Town is a tiny fishing village on Kingston’s Harbour. It is also the site of the most lovely street dances in Kingston, where people get dressed up in their best suits and frocks and enjoy music all night.

Several evenings ago, I sat as a passenger in a car traveling on the island’s most northern road. My boyfriend was driving, and two of his friends accompanied us. We had taken a road trip to Portland so my boyfriend could conduct some business. It was about 11:00 pm and the moon was almost full so the light on the ocean made the cresting waves glow silver and a slight breeze blew, tossing the tree branches around gently. It was one of those nights; I was both awed by the beauty and rendered in a state of peace from it.

We rounded a corner, however, and this was all shattered. We came upon a police check. There were about three police cars and I’m guessing about a dozen police officers, all different ranks: a chief in the khaki uniform, the guys in the navy blue tactical suit with the knee pads and rifles and what I believe are the ‘regular’, street cops in the striped shirt and navy pants.

an officer waved us to the side of the road and my boyfriend immediately switched on the roof light and rolled down all the windows. This pleased the officer: “I like how you are co-operating,” he said. There were a couple other cars pulled over being searched as we rolled to a stop. The young officer, who was holding his cell phone and using it as a flash light, shone it in the car and asked: “anything to declare?” My boyfriend gave his standard answer: “No sir, I am a computer engineer.”

I have been a passenger many times now in cars that have been pulled over and subjected to this “routine” search. This question is apparently meant to refer to anything illegal- drugs or guns- and is asked in the hope that the driver is given the chance to be honest, thus paving the way for a more smooth interaction. These stops are a routine part of the police’s strategy, I’ve been told.

I thought we would be told to go on our way at that point, but the young officer asked my boyfriend to step out of the car. He complied. Then, the officer asked if he could search his person. The sense of injustice and indignation rose up in me. Most Jamaicans, my boyfriend included, are law-abiding citizens. However, given the crime rates (more than 1,000 people murdered in 2014) and the violent culture, the symbolic authority granted to the police is weighted more heavily in their favour.

I wonder what would happen if someone were to indicate that they declined to be searched. This is a right provided in the Jamaican Charter of Fundamental Rights and Freedoms (which was modeled in part on Canada’s), but I suspect it would not go over too well.

Nevertheless, my boyfriend was then patted down, as were the two others. Then he was asked to show his insurance papers and the entire car searched. I was asked to please get out of the car, Miss, but was not searched. The whole time I felt tears welling up in my eyes, perhaps fueled by my privileged upbringing in peaceful countries in which this type of search would be met with outrage and likely resistance. But my boyfriend complied politely, and as is usually the case, attracted the interest of the police officers with his ability to provide and fix computers.

It was windy and chilly. The entire time this was occurring, we were being watched intently by a tactical officer holding a rifle. I have yet to be accustomed to this experience and I doubt I ever will be. We were finally permitted to get back in the car and drive away. No one said much of anything; for them it was normal. I guess as a Jamaican citizen, you learn early on how to behave in these types of interactions so as to avoid trouble. These individual officers in this particular interaction were doing nothing but acting respectfully while simply doing their job. But as a foreigner from a country in which I enjoy many comparative privileges, I could not help but feel sad.

Last week, fellow volunteer and National Youth Orchestra of Jamaica‘s Executive Director Karen Prentice got a terrible shock. Her Mac Pro was stolen from a room at Kingston College where some NYOJ members were practicing. It seems a man, whom many people did not recognize, was hanging around and saw an opportunity. He was seen putting something in a box, presumably Karen’s computer, which had been under the care of a colleague while she took pictures of some new music stands.

The NYOJ is doing some wonderful work: they recruit high school students from tough, inner-city communities, who want to learn how to play a musical instrument. Through this experience, they also learn the intangibles like discipline, dedication and how to work as part of a team. They are also exposed to a curriculum that is not readily available in most Jamaican schools.

Karen immediately filed a report with the police, but they say there’s not much they can do because there is no picture of the individual, despite two eye-witness accounts of the suspect. The security cameras at the school are broken, of course, and the security guard says he saw nothing suspicious.

Needless to say, Karen is heartbroken, and not because of the loss of a piece of technology. She is despondent over the loss of close to two years of work, irreplaceable footage from NYOJ’s endeavours and a documentary that was close to completion (Karen is a journalist.)

The reward is being offered in the hopes that someone will return the computer, no questions asked, and these precious documents and memories will be returned to Karen. However, in reality, the computer has probably already been sold for a small sum. Please share this post widely, perhaps we can recover these precious memories.

Clothing stall in Morant Bay, St. Thomas.

Jan’s Couture. This is a small clothing store in Morant Bay. The front was covered by this blue tarp, I imagine to protect the clothes from the dust of the street. You can see one dress, a short, white piece, meant to entice buyers.