JAMAICANS are familiar with the sight of guns, what with the high crime situation and the need for the security forces to arm themselves. There are, however, not many who actually “face the line of fire”. I will relate a few incidents in which I was involved:

The first confrontation took place in the 1970s while I was parked outside the Lyndhurst Methodist Church, where the youth club was meeting. Just after 8:00 pm, I was pounced upon by two gunmen on either side of the front windows, demanding money, which I unhesitatingly handed over. With expletives, I was told to drive and not look back.

As a cast worker of the popular radio serial Wrong Move, I had some recording on this rainy and overcast Saturday morning at Radio Jamaica. After the recording, I travelled along Lyndhurst Road by the Calvary Cemetery and immediately observed a motor car with four men aboard. They were about 500 metres away when one of the occupants exited the car and slowly walked across the narrow road, which drew my suspicion.

If you knew the area, there was no turning back. On reaching the spot where the passenger disembarked, he suddenly made a 90-degree turn and held a gun at the driver’s side of the window, which thankfully was rolled up. He threatened me not to attempt to drive away as he looked towards Brentford Road, where the other vehicle was heading. I saw death in the gunman’s eyes as he reinforced his threat. Anyway, I glanced through the side of my glasses as most people who wear glasses are inclined to do, and observed no oncoming traffic. I said a prayer. It was my first automatic transmission car so all I did, without drawing any suspicion, was to drop to the front passenger seat and simultaneously pressed the gas, while leaving my head just below the steering wheel for about a good 30 metres, catching the gunman by surprise. On reaching the corner by Brentford Road, his accomplice was there waiting for the obvious robbery changeover but he had no gun, so I further accelerated and drove out of sight.

A friend later told me that the other car owner also escaped, by dimming his lights and drawing attention to an approaching police car. The gunmen had a history of committing robberies in the area and were killed in a gunbattle. In the 1970s also, I was the Social Development Commission’s (SDC) area supervisor for zone four, which consists of all the communities in the western belt of the Corporate Area.

Violence was all around us but nevertheless we had to visit there tribalised areas. One of the project officers, who lost a hand due to the violence, actually offered a gun to me to protect myself but I declined and I told him that social work skills and Jah would help.

There was a feud between Tivoli Gardens and Rema (Wilton Gardens) in 1984, and five persons were killed one night. I drove into Boys’ Town for another day’s work, as the director and noticed the place was very tense. As I drove in, I could not help but notice four men on a search mission who didn’t look like security personnel. All had m16 rifles and caught me staring at them. One member of the group shouted: “Yuh alright, Mr Director”, and they did not harm me.

Following my secondment to Boys’ Town, I returned to the SDC and was immediately assigned to help with a youth club survey to establish the effectiveness of the groups. I eventually reached the clubs in the Mountain View area and was challenged by three thugs who wanted to know my credentials and political affiliation. They forced me to go along with them to a yard on the road, where supposedly someone would confirm my identity. The group obviously had guns, as was later confirmed. I was able to “escape” as they inadvertently mentioned the name of the SDC person whom I didn’t know. Somehow, I got to her while they were distracted and hugged her as she exited a birthday party in progress. They left without asking, as they presumed I knew her.

Following these incidents, I can definitely relate to persons who encountered the monster that is the gun. Gladly, some escaped but others were not so fortunate.