Jamaica

If there was ever a definition of a die-hard Jamaican, there would be an 8x10 glossy of my Granny in the dictionary. Granny loved Jamaica with all her heart, and although she was very religious she had her moments of voicing her opinion on Jamaican Politics.

It was usually a hand-twisting situation to get Granny to talk of politics but when she did, you got more than an earful. She always said she would rather serve the Lord, than talk about people idolizing leaders. When I was younger Granny always had me thinking that she hadn't any knowledge of Jamaican politics or leaders. My perception quickly changed after spending an afternoon with Granny.

Granny and I were sitting on the verandah, when we heard on the radio that a riot had broken out downtown, people were ranting and raving and carrying on quite horribly. In Jamaica during election time the political parties involved, would sometimes resort to violence in order to promote their parties' aspirations. It was usually JLP (Jamaica Labour Party) vs. PNP (People National Party). Granny and I were both very concerned about the developments so we stayed glued to the radio to get more information.

I said, "Granny what you think about all this carrying on?"

Granny remarked, "What is wrong with those people, thou he, dem not going stop until dem turn the country into an alms house." She listened intently as the newscaster updated the current status of the riot. Granny began talking about how politicians today are only concerned with making money for themselves and forgetting about the masses. Then she continued, "Busta was a good leader, that man stood up to the people when they tried to intimidate and terrorize him. They don't make leaders like that anymore. If you say boo to dem, they run gone."

"Busta really cared about the people and genuinely wanted to make a better Jamaica. Nowadays these politicians are so fool-fool, they act like they are movie stars."

I became very pensive because of Granny's thoughts, though simple; they were a good assessment of the general tone in Jamaica. Granny and I sat there on the porch quite concerned about the latest developments; it seems as if the riots were spreading to other parts of Kingston.

Granny grabbed my hand and started praying, "Lord, please don't let these people destroy Jamaica and please make sure everybody get home safe."

Granny felt helpless, so prayer was her way of contributing to the resolution of the situation. When praying didn't work Granny took up the phone and called her brother in Kellits. I said to her, "Granny why you calling you brother, this is not some children on the playfield bullying each other. This is a national disaster." Granny smiled.

Granny got on the phone and said, "Is the Honorable..... there," I thought my Granny was having an early case of dementia. Why would Granny be making such an official call?

She was on the phone for a few minutes then she ended the call. My curiosity was boiling so I asked her, who was the official she was talking to, she said, " My brother, Oh Ms. Mags, Granny forgot to tell you that your Grand Uncle is the mayor of Kellits. Don't worry the riot should be over soon."

I said, "Sure, Granny whatever you say, was that a vision from God, or did the "mayor" tell you this?

Then the phone rang, and it was Madame Rose Leone calling Granny, to tell her not to worry that everything was under control. At this point I was completely astonished; my Granny was getting calls from all these political figures with updates about the riot. This little church lady was more informed than all of Jamaica. Madame Rose Leon was a very prominent political figure in those days and Granny was a close confidante. If this riot had never happened I would have never known that my Granny's brother was the mayor of Kellits for several years and that Granny had political connections.

There were times in my life when I thought my Granny was a secret agent. Just when you thought that she was this bible toting, little old lady she always managed to surprise me with her affiliations. About an hour later, the radio broadcaster announced that the rioting had ended, and it was now safe to travel about the streets of Kingston. Granny suddenly decided that she wanted to pick up a few things on King Street. My thoughts were that she really wanted to go by the stores and minister to the devastated shopkeepers. Granny and I got dressed and we were off to King Street before the stores closed. As we walked through the streets all the Rastas and Higglers hailed my Granny as if she were celebrity. Granny was always ministering to people, so I guess you could say she was a celebrity in her own right. Besides, she always wore the coolest attire, long flowing skirts with her crochet tams, they probably thought she was an ital queen.

As we entered into the store to purchase a few items, granny whispered to me and said, "I soon come back, I'm just going to say howdy-do to a friend." Granny had an intense conversation with the woman for a few minutes. The more I looked at this woman, the more familiar she seemed. I had seen her somewhere before. Granny returned with the lady and said, "Ms. Mags meet the Prime Minister's wife."

I knew that lady looked familiar......

As you can imagine, I was in a state of bewilderment, Who is this lady they call my Granny and is she a silent member of the United Nations? Granny and I bade farewell and departed. The streets were being cleaned up and King Street was back to its usual splendor and activities.

Granny smiled, "I told you Mags that everything would be o.k., a little bit of God and human intervention never hurt. How about an ice-cream cone?"

I remarked, "Granny I don't know, I may not be properly dressed, in case we run into the Governor General."

"Don't worry you'll be fine." We proceeded to the local ice-cream parlor where Granny bought me my favorite ice-cream, which was grapenut. I sat there reveling in the treat Granny gave me, when Granny said, "Magsie Wagsy look who is here having ice-cream with his daughter?"

It was no other than Eddie Seaga. The former Prime Minister of Jamaica. We chatted for a while and then Granny decided it was time for us to leave King Street. So we began our journey home, I finally realized that talking politics with granny was an interactive experience.

As we approached the front door and Granny motioned to me, "Go inside sweetheart."

I replied, "No, you first! Just in case Haile Selassie came over for dinner."