What next will be stolen?
I have written what I hope is a humorous letter about your Sunday Observer front page of September 23, "Trucks with drugs, guns vanish".
After a night of heavy entertaining, I fell into a disorderly sleep. I remember my head was pounding, and so sleeping, waking, sleeping, was my pattern
that night. At some point I recall walking up Duke Street and was approaching Gordon House.
I heard the heavy roar of a bulldozer, and when I looked up I heard the CAT engines whine, and saw the dozer lift some rocks, where Gordon House was supposed to be. There were only rocks and stones, twisted masses of steel and other debris. Parked in front of what was Gordon House were three garbage trucks loaded with what were the remnants; they were marked NSWMA, something to do with garbage collection.
Standing right across the street, was a dread, also looking on. So I went over and asked, "Dread, what is happening here?"
Still looking at the wreckage, he said: "Bass, I don't quite know, but from yesterday them pull down Gordon House and start to load the garbage trucks, and them gone to Palisadoes. I get to understand they are using it to support the road works".
"But how come, I said, who authorised it? How can someone just steal a building and get away like that?"
"Bass, I doan know, but I get to understand them tief the trucks as well, from down a wharf! Then they come here to tief the building."
"But what about the politicians and MPs who were in the building", I said, "Where are they now?"
"Bass, dem gone with them too. Everybody who was in the building."
"And I always tell them not to sleep in the morning after the heavy breakfast," I responded. "So the whole Government of Jamaica was stolen?"
"Well, bass, if they can steal three trucks from wharf, loaded with firearms, dem can steal anything. And the politicians don't know is who, or don't want to tell. All the criminal in Fletcher's land a laugh at them. Because between this P and that P, Energy P and Sista P, nobody know what they are doing! I hear we are going to cook with coal or bagasse now. Is true, bass?"
At that point I woke from that fitful slumber, got up and washed my face. Then I went out to see my goodly
wife bustling about the kitchen. She offered me my coffee, and the Jamaica Observer newspaper.
The headline hit me! I looked to see if any mention was made of Gordon House, quickly put on some clothes, and headed out to see if Parliament was still there.