MR ‘X’, a confessed gunman in the violence-torn community of Greenwich Town, has seen so many of his friends, neighbours and loved ones murdered that he has become immune to acts of violence.

“You see because mi born inna it (gun violence), I don’t feel it much because to how mi see it nuff from mi a little boy,” he says. “When you see you loved ones go, you know seh is something you just have to live with. From mi a little baby mi exposed to it.”

He denies having pulled the trigger in fatal shootings, but declaring himself a dangerous knife-man who has drawn the blood of countless people, he says he has and can determine who lives and who dies; who gets to keep their money and who gets robbed.

Nonetheless, he declares that his reputation in the community is good and says he plays the role of father to many children and those in need.

His first experience holding a gun was at the age of six. But with age creeping up on him, and with five children of his own to provide for, the 37-year-old wants to turn his life around. He harbours no regrets about the past but says he is “more than willing” to lay the gun aside and become involved in farming, chicken rearing, and selling dry goods.

Working a nine-to-five is out of the question since he isn’t qualified.

“I don’t decide to beg. I am willing to help myself,” he says. “If we could get some start, get some things to plant or raise fowl.”

And he isn’t the only one. Twenty-one-year-old Mr ‘Y’ and 20-year-old Mr ‘Z’, two other “shottas” in the community, are also willing to trade in their guns for a better life.

Mr ‘Y’, a St Joseph’s High graduate, is currently pursuing an auto mechanic course at an evening institute in St Andrew. His ambition is to be a businessman, selling an assortment of goods, while practising his auto mechanic trade.

He did not get the chance to sit the Caribbean Secondary Examinations Certificate exams because he couldn’t afford the fees, but he did sit the Secondary School Certificate exam. He doesn’t know the exact grades he received, however, because he has not gone for the results but says a former teacher told him he did well.

His first encounter with a gun was at age eight when he built his own. Six years later came his first experience shooting someone.

“From eight mi used to build mi little one pop,” he says, smiling. “I used to build mi little one pop with board and iron. We coulda find bullet dem time deh. When a man fire nuff shot up the road and some of it don’t fire, rain wash it come down here and we find it and ting. Real shot used to be in the guns.”

He explained the circumstances surrounding his first shooting incident.

It happened after a disagreement with a close friend, who had “switched to the other side”, brought men to kill him and a friend. When the ensuing shoot-out was over, his friend lay dead, inches from him.

“The same spot where he was dying, I was right next to him. Mi have to run. You done know how the ting go inna the garrison already,”

Since then, gun slinging has become a part of the daily life of Mr ‘Y’, who confesses that guns are even more prevalent than food in his community.

“Fi kill somebody a simple ting still enuh,” he says, chuckling. “But if we do something like that we nah go really tell nobody,” he adds. “Mi nuh too fussy to say ‘yeah mi a killa’. No, we nuh do that. When you see mi, mi just calm and simple, mi nah trouble nobody, you seet. Once nobody don’t trouble mi, mi nah trouble nobody. You could be my biggest enemy, once you don’t trouble mi, mi nah trouble you. Once you nah pass mi and nah screw pon mi, you good, you seet. But once you start screw pon mi or my friend dem, it get mi kinda upset cause you done know, wi love we fren dem.

“It wicked man in the ghetto down here”, he continues. “You have to just be strong and can hold the faith you seet. From you can hold the faith you will live,” the young man says, displaying little emotion.

Killing someone depends on the ‘vibes’ he is in, he explains.

“If you in the vibes you don’t response. If mi fi do it, mi a go do it. And it don’t make sense you do it and sorry after. If you know you a go sorry — don’t do it.”

Like Mr ‘Y’, Mr ‘Z’ grew up without a father and his mother migrated when he was eight-years-old. Growing up with an aged grandmother who could hardly care for him and his siblings, forced him to take care of himself. At 13, he was “hustling”, selling scrap metal and zinc.

“I used to do a lot of things man. I use to cut up all old car and sell them. Anything — as long as it not making any argument between me and anyone mi inna it,” he confesses.

Mr ‘Y’s story is much like that of 20-year-old Mr ‘Z’, whose mother was unable to send him to school past grade 10.

“I grew up without a father,” he says. “My mother neva have it, so mi stop go school from 10 grade so I just started “hustling” for myself. I would look old iron and old zinc and sell.”

The past student of Haile Selassie High still does that today and he also does fishing, but his dream is to become an auto mechanic. In the interim though, he discloses, he is willing to take up farming.

“The best thing I see now to do is farming,” Mr ‘Z’ says. “Mi nuh have no work and mi can’t get nuh work. But I would be willing to work with people.”

His first experience with a gun was at the age of 15, when a man for whom the police were searching gave him the weapon to hide. It’s a regular occurrence, he says, for the “big” men to give guns to the youth in order to conceal it from the police who have a tendency to overlook women and children.

He could have refused, he tells the Sunday Observer, but having heard stories where others were severely beaten for not agreeing, he feared the same fate would have befallen him.

Since that time, the gun has become a regular part of his life, too. He however, declares himself innocent of murder.

“Mi a tell you straight, mi never really do it, but you see if mi did do it, mi nuh feel like mi woulda tell you. Mi never really fire shot after nobody yet, mi only hold it (gun).”

Mr ‘Z’, too, is eager for alternatives to gun toting.

They recognise that they were products of adverse circumstances but they want fellow youth in their community to have alternatives. They want to see them given the chance to go back to school to learn a skill in order to break free of the lifestyle into which they have been born. They talk of the need for equipment such as cutlasses, files, hoses, and a water pump which they say would help them in the farming initiative.

They also talk of a block-making machine that already exists in a section of the community, which only needs to be repaired.

“We would plant callaloo, pepper, tomato — anything! We have three acres of land right here so,” one of the men says pointing to a nearby patch of land. “It bush up bad now but we willing to cut it down and plant it up. We would sell at the front (of the community) and downtown. Some even willing to sell in Ocho Rios,” says Mr ‘X’.

Still, the young men say though they are willing to lay their weapons down, they would not turn them over to the police under a gun amnesty.

“You see once you in it already, you just can’t come out so,” Mr ‘X’ says. “Cause even if you give up your gun, the man who warring you not going to give up his gun and that puts you at danger.”

Mr ‘Y’ and Mr ‘Z’ are in full agreement.

Editor’s note: Due to the nature of the story, the interviewees have asked that their names be changed to Mr ‘X’, Mr ‘Y’ and Mr ‘Z’ to protect their identities.