Unity is constantly eluding us
IF HE is honest with himself, the typical policeman is likely to tell you that he does not trust the typical inner-city citizen. The person living on the edge of the gully where stink gases become awake at night to infect cramped rooms with multiple children definitely knows that the police are not to be trusted.
“Dem kill yout and plant gun pon dem. Sometimes all just because dem and di yout inna business arrangement and dem want just tek it over. Murder, plain and simple,” said a 56-year-old Papine-based mason from Jungle 12. “Bad boy dey yah and wi know dat, but if you leave it up to we di citizens, a solution can be found. The best solution.”
The undereducated and untrained worker does not trust his employer who, he believes, will use minimum wage to keep him just two notches above the poverty line and basically committing himself to a life of servitude. His employer believes that if he does not spend hundreds of thousands for security interfaces and protection, his workers will cost him millions through theft and loose loss-prevention management.
The preacher grudgingly trusts his congregation but much of it is transactional. He aches for empty praises for his latest sermon but more so for the sheep’s ability to overload the collection plate.
Mistrust is rife among our people and until we can rebuild that broad societal trust that once existed up to, at least, the early 1970s, we will never find unity.
I would have to be a most stupid person to believe that I can build a bond of unity with someone who I do not trust.
Back in the late 1990s when the inner-city pockets of Grants Pen in North East St Andrew were shooting at each other, I was driving late one night when I had a blowout. The spare tyre, long unused, had deflated. It was about minutes to two that about four young men came to me and offered me help.
They did not know me or know of me. I called a brother of mine and when he came, the young men had long removed the bad tyre from the car. We loaded the two tyres in the car and told them we would soon be back.
As we came back I saw that the young men had spread out cardboard by the car and they were sleeping in protection of the car. We did what had to get done and then I realised that I had no extra funds on me.
They were more than disappointed when I told them that I had no money. I told them that I would be back in a few days. I had a lot on my mind at that time and it was after two weeks that I remembered that I had promised to return.
The day I drove up I saw two of them. As I exited the vehicle, one said to the other, “A weh mi tell yu sey, di man a go come back.” They trusted me with absolutely only faith on their side.