Former Monymusk workers no longer enjoying the sweetness
This is the first of a FIVE-PART SERIES looking at life in communities where sugar was once king, but in which the government-owned factories are about to change hands.
RESIDENTS of Lionel Town and surrounding communities in Clarendon said they could not recall a “crop time” when the familiar smoke from the Monymusk Sugar Factory boiler and the pungent smell of sugar did not fill the air.
Then men, women and youths would start out at the crack of dawn in the fields where the swish of sharp machetes against the cane was the dominant sound of the day as they laboured in the hot sun to fill their quota.
Inside the boiler room, sweat would run down the workers’ backs and faces as they battled the intense heat to process cane juice into sugar.
It has been hard work, the workers said, but it’s the only job dozens have ever known in a community where sugar remained the main source of income for many generations.
But after a number of decades things have changed, unfortunately for the worse for several residents of Lionel Town.
The frustration and desperation on the faces of old and young men alike, sitting hopelessly along the roadside on a recent visit to the Clarendon sugar factory signalled that waiting for work had been even harder than toiling in the fields.
The cane season began a month ago but the sugar mills were not yet up and running as the management of the estate was awaiting the sale of the Government-owned factory to private investors. Monymusk is among the five sugar factories that the administration is trying to offload to the Brazilian firm Infinity Bio-energy.
Along the way men, attired in the blackened and tattered clothes reserved for the field, were seen huddled in groups as they discussed their fate.
A number of the men said they have not worked since last July when the 2008 crop ended.
On December 18 last year, 1,650 of the sugar workers were given 14 weeks’ notice pay, but were uncertain when they would receive their severance package.
A group of men seated under a tree declined to give their names when the Observer spoke with them, saying they did not want to be labelled troublemakers as they had wanted to be among those called back to the factory to work on contract.
According to some of the cane cutters, labourers were being employed to work with contractors doing repairs at the factory and said they were willing to do the simplest of jobs. Repairs to the factory started last August and should have been completed by December.
“If them feel you is a good enough worker dem will call you back and give yu little something fi do like help hold one ladder or do a little painting,” said one man.
“From January, every morning, if yu see the amount a men weh come and ah ask the boss when yu ago call me and all dem can hear is we no ready yet,” said another man.
But with no work in sight some have resorted to the illegal act of burning the canefields, hoping to force management to hire them to cut the cane before it is spoilt. “Is 11 canefield dem burn down a ready because people a hope say if dem burn them down them will get work fi cut it and carry it
go Frome (another factory in Westmoreland),” said one man.
“We would ah feel better if them did ah communicate wid we and meck we know what a happen but nobody no say nutten and now is pure sufferation dem left we in,” said Michael Francis who has worked in sugar for more than 15 years.
“Is $200 fi send my son go school a day and is only $100 me can give him so me don’t even know how him manage,” added Francis, the frustration evident on his face.
In neighbouring Raymonds, a number of men sat under shop piazzas, some with their hands at their cheeks. The business places were empty as sugar workers said they had no money to spend. The only place with customers was the horse-racing betting shop, as several put their hopes on gambling.
Others flocked the ‘drap han man’, in the hope of winning enough for their day’s meal.
“Every step yu step ah man beg yu a money. Dem ask you fi $100 and you say yu no have it and them ask fi $50 then them go all the way down to $20 and if you give dem $20 dem a teck it cause dem desperate,” said another man.
In the meantime, the workers said they had no idea how they would pay for the houses they recently acquired through the National Housing Trust (NHT) after purchasing land from the sugar estate.
At the Raymond Housing Scheme, where a number of units were still under construction when the Observer visited, a group of men sat idly under a tree.
“Yesterday woulda be fortnight and we woulda did get we money fi buy groceries fi we home,” said a man who gave his name only as Byron.
Winston Wilson said he worked in sugar for 15 years and had nothing to show for it as he made only $900 a day.
“Fi me old man (father) work in a sugar till him dead and is fool me fool because me shouldn’t did put meself in deh to,” he said.
However, at least one resident, Pearlita Wright, made it clear that she had no interest working at the sugar estate, as she spoke about the ‘hard look’ it left on other women in the community.
“When them come out the field a day time dem black like deh so,” she said, pointing to a black surface. “All young green girl ah chop cane because them have them children, and so when crop time everybody look forward to getting a work,” she said.
Small cane growers said they too were suffering as the longer the cane took to be reaped the less sugar it produced, resulting in them being paid at the ‘molasses grade’ – a lower cost because of the poorer quality.
Yet another problem seems to be affecting communities in and around the Monymusk Sugar Factory: Crime.
Roger, a welder who worked at the factory six months of each year, said he was not among those lucky enough to get a job repairing the factory this year, and that crime was now taking over the communities as a number of people were out of work.
“When the little old men dem get pay a Thursday day and ah ride home, man hold dem up and teck we dem grocery and dem bicycle,” he said.
Last December when workers were being paid their notice pay, the police had to increase their presence in the area, the Observer was told.
NEXT: FROME