When the bough breaks…

Among all the bad news surrounding crime, criminals, and victims lately, two unrelated media stories brought some hope that the people of this country have not yet conceded. 

First, there was an article relating the story of two young men, brothers, brought before the court on charges related to the possession of marijuana-laced sugarcake and – get this – reported to the police by their mother!  Then, there was the Tales from the Motherhood story of another mother who, in an effort to steer her teenage son on the right and safe track, belaboured him with blows until she, herself, collapsed exhausted. 

We are not about to enter the debate over the pros and cons of corporal punishment; for, as has been said, we have all been there and had it done unto us, and there are many who will testify that they are the better for it and some who will declare otherwise.

And who are the less fortunate?

Every year we lament the commercialization of Christmas, with the more conscious among us exhorting others to "remember the reason for the season."  In other words, we remind them that the celebration really ought to be about the birth of Christ, with all the promise His coming held and continues to hold for those who believe.  Then, with every good intention in the world, those who believe then turn around and perpetrate a contradiction,  as churches, civic-minded groups and conscientious persons strive to give to the "less fortunate" in an effort to make them feel like everybody else.

But who, really, are the less fortunate; and what makes them so?  Just off the top of the average person’s head, the answer would come swiftly: "Those who don’t have as much as we do."  And this usually means those persons whose pocketbooks cannot stretch to the usual Christmas staples: the ham or turkey or roast pork; the black cake, liquor and chocolates; the decorated tree with gaily wrapped presents beneath; the fresh curtains and linens, maybe; and, in general, the absence of "newness" and "extras." 

Politics, pensions, & professions

The debate has been going on for some time now, with one side coming out aggressively – sometimes swinging blindly in an attempt to hit something, anything.  In fact, one caller to The Snake Pit, last Saturday, even vowed never to vote again until the issue of politicians earning a pension had been resolved in his favour.  Meanwhile, the other side, until yesterday in Parliament, refused to be drawn from its corner, perhaps out of fear of doing itself damage.  But on whatever side the audience lines up, the subject of pensions for politicians is one that needs context in order to gain perspective..

In a nation that is as employee-oriented and union-clad as ours, it is a fact that every worker or his representative comes to the table to negotiate the best possible “benefits package.”  Since this is our employment culture, we imagine that it was no different for the then members of Parliament who brought into being the principle of 11 years served for a full pension.  If we are not mistaken, the pension is pro rated for those who serve less time. 

When we remembered Zion

As we sat in the midst of a clearing in which Nature, politely, had been merely nudged aside, the wail of a siren was heard.  But it was a brief sound only, causing no anxiety, panic, or speculation in the assembly;  for we had been told, a little while before, that crime had no place in this place, where we  had assembled to celebrate the official recognition of the Nyabinghi Theocracy Church School.  And so the likelihood of the police rushing in to restore order or ambulances screeching in to bandage wounded students was beyond remote.

Despite the presence of the key players in education, this was no routine inauguration of a school; this was an official exercise with a difference. But it was not so much the long skirts and headdresses of those of us who normally do not wear these things.  It was, as the Director of Education remarked, an uncanny remembrance – call it an ancestral memory – of how, once, we were and the recognition of what, as a people, we still might have been, if the perilous waves of the Atlantic had not preceded the still waters of Creekside.