Honouring real fathers
BELIEVE it or not, there is historical basis for the irresponsible approach by far too many Jamaican fathers — some so uncaring in relation to their children they are mere sperm donors.
That unfortunate attitude is grounded in chattel slavery, which many Jamaicans hate to even think about.
The kidnapping of West Africans and their transportation across the Atlantic to be sold to plantation operators in Jamaica, the Caribbean, and the wider Americas lasted from the 16th — century shortly after the Europeans first came — until the 19th century.
Historians tell us that for Jamaica and other British colonies in the Caribbean and Guyana, the transatlantic trade in Africans ended in 1807. Chattel slavery in the British colonies finally ended in the 1830s. For other areas in the Americas, including the USA, the abominable practice survived for decades longer.
For the children of displaced Africans, parenting as we know of it today was largely meaningless — despite the link to mother who had carried the child to birth and nursed him/her through infancy and early childhood.
But in the legal and real sense those children were property, readily bought and sold by their masters without any need for permission from biological parents. Just as they took care of their cattle and other animals, those property owners ensured their slaves — adults and children — were fed. How else would they be strong enough to work?
Likewise, rudimentary housing (huts) was provided and there was minimal medical care, as deemed necessary.
In such circumstances biological fathers often kept their distance. Why not? We can be fairly sure that in the eyes of the owners, fathers of enslaved children were about as pertinent as fertile bulls.
It seems to us that even as we lash out at delinquent, uncaring fathers in today’s Jamaica we must never lose sight of how such behaviour took root in ex-slave societies such as ours.
Yet, for all that, when the slaves were told in 1838 that they were now ‘free’, many enlightened men among those ex-slaves put familial responsibility first, embraced their women and children, and sought to protect and nurture as best they could.
Some fled deep into the mountains, as far away from the plantation as it was possible to get — surviving, even thriving, as farmers and herders. Some stayed where they were and worked hard for meagre wages to feed their families.
What could have motivated that positive ‘vibration’? Maybe it came, in part, from having seen at close quarters as ‘backra massa’ protected and nurtured his kith and kin. Perhaps that knowledge drove a fierce determination amongst those impoverished, illiterate ex-slaves that their children and children’s children should someday also find reason to celebrate life, just like the ex-master’s offspring.
We have a feeling — hopefully it’s correct — that in today’s Jamaica an increasing number among us are standing up and embracing fatherhood.
Uplifting articles in our latest Sunday edition honouring those men are very much in order, we believe.
We should celebrate such stories, not just on Father’s Day but as often as we possibly can. Every day should be parents’ day.
Equally, we must keep telling our people, more especially our young, about their history — even the uncomfortable, discomforting parts.
If we don’t know where we are coming from we will never know how we have come to this or where we should be trying to go.
