O death, where is thy sting?

O grave, where is thy victory?

DEATH is man’s worst enemy. My apologies to my many readers for my column not having appeared in the last two issues of this esteemed newspaper. This was due to the death of my dear mother, Ethelda Maud Smith, at the age of 96. My unreserved gratitude is extended to all those who took time out to share in my grief and to offer words of comfort and love.

During the last few months, Jamaica lost many of its outstanding icons. These distinguished Jamaicans were doers, not just talkers. Such greats as Trevor Rhone, Sonny Bradshaw and, of course, Rex Nettleford come to mind. My mother was an ordinary individual in comparison to these luminaries but to those who knew her, she was an extraordinary Jamaican woman. She may not have attained national and international acclamation like them, but she represented thousands of everyday Jamaicans of her generation who embraced the many values and attitudes of the true Jamaican that is fast becoming an endangered species.

What makes so many ordinary Jamaicans so extraordinary in their own right? These are the many unsung heroes and heroines. It was first their passionate love and respect for life. Regrettably, in today’s Jamaica, so many of our young people have very little regard for human life. Teenage “gun boys” take pride and joy in declaring that they have “made a duppy” (killed someone). In the meantime, so many of our young men in particular openly declare that they do not expect to live past 25 years old. Life to them is cheap. In an environment of abject poverty, hopelessness, partisan fanaticism, wanton criminality and where the laws of the jungle hold sway, death becomes an easy option. Indeed, it is no longer the classic case of only the good die young. In a country where it is good to be bad, the bad, comprising mostly the young, do bite the dust with so much frightening frequency. Ironically, life expectancy in Jamaica has increased tremendously which means that more of us are living longer!

Then again, just look how some people behave at the scene of a tragic motor vehicle accident or murder. Watching the spectacle on prime time television news is like viewing a carnival-type affair. There is much laughter, looting if possible, and a general atmosphere of disrespect for the dead. Interestingly, in the case of a controversial police shooting, even when the young victim (usually male) is known to be a multi-murderer and evil miscreant, he is described by parents, relatives and friends as “a good youth”. The police, on the other hand, have a different opinion which in essence seeks to justify their often perceived extrajudicial execution. For many fed-up and frustrated police officers, death is the only desired outcome for these young criminals. In this vein, there is even talk of a “hit list” which some law enforcement officers operate from! Talk about “born fi dead”!

Let’s face it, the older generation possessed a generosity of spirit; they exercised courtesy and tolerance with whomever they encountered; were for the most part God-fearing, patriotic, hard-working, industrious, honest, practised cleanliness and exuded self-confidence, notwithstanding their umbilical link to slavery and colonialism. All that has changed. To be any of the aforementioned is to be a “softie”, a “hasbeen”, someone who is out of touch with the realities of the day. The crass indiscipline that is displayed on our roadways and in public places, the disregard for the National Anthem, the lack of a productive work ethic and a preference for the lowest common factors in everyday life are sure signs of a society that is decaying rapidly.

Juxtapose these negative qualities which have helped to stymie a fulfilling path towards nation building with a very weak economy, the divisiveness, the corruption, an educational system which primarily has failed to produce useful and happy citizens as well as the “fire sale” that is taking place of Jamaica’s prime assets (including Air Jamaica) to foreign interests, and one begins to conclude that there are worse things than death itself.

To some overseas critics and writers, Jamaica has become a “dead yard” — a place where dreams may come to die. And yet we have been able to produce a Usain Bolt. When last have you visited a “dead yard” or “nine night”? Not to mention those “bling-bling funerals”? Death has become a commodity, an occasion to bring out greed, depravity and even slackness – just look how some of our women attire themselves when attending a funeral! I once attended a dead yard and during a rambunctious domino game, one of the players, while gorging on a plate of curried goat and rice in between imbibing white rum and Ting one after another, asked rather curiously, “Boss, a who dead?”

Anancyism abounds while arrogance, incompetence and self-aggrandisement pervade the body politic. Already, there are signs that a general election is in the making, but to what end? Another opportunity for one more killing field, not only in terms of bodies but ideas and dreams? Where is the consensus? Whatever happened to hope? Where is the commitment to put country first?

My mother died lamenting the ugly place that Jamaica had become. Her last words to me were: “Trust in God and all will be well with you.” Perhaps, that’s the only lifeline we have left.

lloydbsmith@hotmail.com