The other side of the fence

Lance Neita, Contributor

THE GUN culture that prevails today is not the fault of the elders of earlier generations who assumed responsibility for the rearing of children growing up in rural Jamaica.

My first and only near experience with a gun is most unlike what too many children of Jamaica have been forced to grow up with over the last 40 or so years.

As a boy, I remember the entire village going into shock one Sunday morning when it was announced at Church that a donkey which had fallen into a pit was to be shot by the police. The Sunday School superintendent announced in hushed tones that the gun would be fired at two o'clock in the afternoon, and cautioned that we should not be alarmed at the unfamiliar sound.

Miss Webley prepared us carefully, explaining that Mass Robbie's beast of burden, well known to the community, had been injured beyond recovery and that putting it out of its misery was the kindest thing to do.

It was a solemn moment, and in spite of her best efforts, we children were horrified at the prospect of hearing gunfire taking place less than a mile from any premises.

We scampered home hurriedly after church, avoiding the sweetie shop which usually took care of any contrived loose change from collection, and noticing that even the choir had not paused for their usual after-service thirst quencher at Miss Flyter's backdoor.

The execution was obviously well timed as at two o'clock everyone would be off the streets on a Sunday afternoon.

At exactly 2 p.m. the dreaded boom echoed around the countryside, followed by a pall of silence, then shouts to neighbours to find out if "everybody awright", and for the rest of the week our thoughts and conversations, broken up into a million versions of what happened at the station on that dark and murky day, buried into our sub-consciousness for the remainder of our lives.

Gun culture

We were blessed. The gun culture never took a foothold in our community because there was simply no space for it. Robberies were few and swiftly solved as the corporal could unerringly follow the trail of a crocus bag left unwittingly in the bushes leading to the local fowl thief's door. Values were driven home by the constant reminders to "be honest", "be punctual", "be kind", posted all over the schoolroom and reinforced by teachers and social club leaders.

We were taught to fear and avoid criminals, not to admire them. The famous gunman Rhygin of the 1950's cast a shade of terror over the island although he notched no more than two victims. Parents warned us to come in early while the gunman was on the loose, and no matter what part of the island you lived, the whispered warning that "Rhygin was here, but him disappear", was enough to send you indoors.

Our comic book heroes were all good men. Roy Rogers, Gene Autry, Kit Carson, Cisco Kid, The Lone Ranger, were gunfighters but they wielded their arms on the side of law and order.

Our Christmas toys included six-shooters and gun belts copied off the latest screen idol's apparatus, but we acted out parts modelled off our role models and invariably the good men won those epic gun fights we played out in the schoolyard or on the common.

We have heard of, and some have seen, boys of eight, nine and ten, being given guns to carry from one gang to another. Guns passed over fences or exchanged at street corners in full view of schoolchildren who themselves have been found secreting weapons in school bags wrapped in their 'Study Guide'.

Time and circumstances have sadly changed. Sheer poverty, lack of opportunity, crowded and appalling living conditions, lack of care and concern, have made survival a rat race for those struggling to escape and who see gunmanship as a star role and ticket to fortune and fame.

We must understand. We must cope. We must share the pain and concern. We must restore law and order. And those of us who were lucky enough to grow up on the other side of the fence must consider what could have been, and be thankful.

Comments may be sent to columns@gleanerjm.com or lanceneita@hotmail.com.