Gordon Robinson | It’s absolute madness!

Thanks to expansive government largesse in advance of an anticipated local government election, Jamaican partygoers are set to have more fun without regard for consequence than a fox in a hen house.

On Tuesday, the prime minister came to Parliament with a bag of goodies for all and sundry but especially for those in the “entertainment sector” (which, properly-so-called should include parliamentarians). Curfew hours were shortened; allowable in-church presence at funerals (no mention of “memorial services”) increased; indoor theatres and cinemas reopened.

Not to worry. There are rules. Indoor theatres and cinemas can open subject to a limit of one person for every 40 square feet or 70 per cent of seated capacity, whichever is lower.

Well kiss my red, wrinkled rungus kungus mi nungus! Really? SERIOUSLY? Who the gisnickcord will be enforcing those rules? Are policemen going to roam darkened cinemas with lassos to separate or eject surplus viewers? Who will establish what 70 per cent of seated capacity is vis-a-vis one person per 40 square feet? And what the granny gungus natty is a square foot anyway? Brogad without his Clarks? Didn’t we go metric over 25 years ago? We buy petrol by the litre but measure cinema space by the square foot? Jeez Louise!

Anybody who has been to The Barn (look it up ‘Millenials’), Green Gables, Little-Little and other theatres where Jamaican written and produced plays are typically performed, will get the hilarity patent in this announcement.

Lord, deliver us!

But good news for all the Olivers out there: We have MORE! For drive-in-cinemas, vehicles should carry no more than the amount they are registered to carry. DWL! I can see it now as every customer pulling up to a drive-in cashier takes the time to show a motor vehicle registration and a Transport Authority licence then lets Paul Blart with a flashlight search the vehicle (trunk included) for excess passengers.

Sigh.

Bring your bowl, Oliver. Even more gruel available! Beaches, rivers, zoos, water attractions, parks, gyms, and bars (the last three must close an hour before curfew) and amusement arcades are all opened wider than the Amazon River. It’s almost as if we’re inviting COVID to fly in on Delta, bringing its Brazilian with it for a happier vacation.

WHAT HEALTH PROTOCOLS?

As if that wasn’t enough courting of voters like flies to COVID’s spider, the real excitement came with the grand announcement of the opening of the “entertainment sector”, whatever the Charles that is. For over a year, we recognised THAT to be virtual clashes between Beenie and Bounty; binge watching Bridgerton on Netflix; and my personal favourite indoor entertainment, annoying the Old Ball and Chain.

Nope. Not good enough. We need parties. Lots of ’em. We need more music; more alcohol consumption; more crowds enjoying both with gay (no, Saint Shirley, not THAT kind of “gay”) abandon.

The Gleaner reported (June 23):

“After being subject to strict lockdowns since the onset of COVID-19 on Jamaica’s shores in March 2020, the entertainment and creative industries have been given breathing space to reopen but not without a stern warning that adherence to the health protocols would determine the longevity of the new measures.”

Health protocols? What health protocols? Jamaica’s monumentally cocked-up vaccine roll-out (unless, of course, you’re a 20-odd-year-old senator or a 30-odd-year-old MP) has kept our fully vaccinated rate well below five per cent, so PM announced that large-scale entertainment projects and parties would go ahead without the need for proof of vaccination or pre-testing. Sure, why not? After all, the solution to a pathetic vaccination effort MUST be to ignore all management failures and further endanger public health by drowning us in forget-about-it juice and dance-all-night jerk sauce while infecting as many as we can. Let’s just keep them happy enough to slip a quick local government election by them as was done in September 2020 with the premature general election. Worry about increased healthcare stress and family grief later. THAT Government can always engage a spin-doctor to handle.

But let’s be fair. PM was careful to warn of possible risk and identify who to blame if anything went wrong. Who’s that? We the people, of course!

Andrew Holness:

“The risk of a third wave remains ever present. Whether or not it materialises is up to us. If we ALL take personal responsibility to observe infection prevention and control protocols ... we can avoid a third wave.”

Personal responsibility? DWL. How has THAT worked for us during the past 15 months? How often has this same prime minister bemoaned the lack of personal responsibility that he often alleged resulted in or greatly contributed to past infection spikes? So on whose form book would it be reasonable to predict that those same Jamaicans will suddenly understand the need for and commit to implementing personal responsibility?

Personal responsibility? For pity’s sake! What about Government taking responsibility for a population it deliberately undereducated for 60 years until the final product turned out, as planned, unable to understand or commit to “personal responsibility”? After decades of brainwashing disguised as education, the majority can only see green or orange; want only to “eat a food”; value life less than momentary pleasure; and wait for delivery of cash wrapped in a T-Shirt to decide how to vote. It’s impossible to truly defeat this pandemic and prepare for the next without an unwavering, non-political commitment to an intense vaccination policy; an education revolution that includes civics, technology, and ethics as foundation subjects; and highly trained teachers as guides.

Since this PM is one of the most astute in recent times, it’s unthinkable that he doesn’t know this. So what’s the real reason for this?

Madness, madness

they call it madness.

Madness, madness

they call it madness

It’s plain to see

that is what they mean to me.

Madness, madness

I call it gladness.

Andrew Holness:

“The stakes are high and this is a risk we are ALL taking together as a country.”

A PLOY

NO. This is a risk Government callously decided to take FOR us. NONE of this was contemplated (certainly not publicly) before the Rick’s fiasco. So it seems that Government has endangered us because it wants to paper over its own mismanagement of or connection to that embarrassing exposure of discriminatory enforcement. We the people can only conclude that Government is risking unbearable stress for healthcare workers; postponed or cancelled treatment of non-COVID patients; and the lives of subsequent contacts of drunken partygoers to appease “entertainment”. This madness doesn’t appear to be founded on “entertainment” representing an important economic demographic (something that hasn’t changed over the past 15 months) but because it represents a vital voting demographic in the lead-up to local government elections.

You should be able to guess from his middle name that Cecil Bustamante Campbell (a.k.a. Prince Buster) was born in 1938. His life of struggle and achievement from humble beginnings should be an inspiration to many. He worked for Clement ‘Sir Coxsone’ Dodd as a jack-of-all-trades before branching out with his own sound system becoming one of Dodd’s biggest rivals. The way Coxsone told it to me, the Wailers Studio One debut Simmer Down was Coxsone’s message to Buster to cool down the sound system wars that had become too violent. It had NOTHING to do with crime generally.

The sound system method (originated by Coxsone) involved going to USA as a farm worker; buying the records (that could otherwise take years to reach Jamaica); bringing them back; scratching off the label so nobody knew the names; and playing them as “exclusives” on your system. But when Buster tried to follow that path, he was refused entry. So in modern pandemic terms, he pivoted and started recording his own music using various studios, including JBC’s, where all-time party favourite Oh Carolina (featuring Count Ossie’s Nyahbingi drummers and Buster’s hand-clapping) was recorded in 1959 after being rehearsed in Wareika Hills. In 1963, Madness was his social commentary on the time’s political propaganda.

Almost 60 years later, it’s still ours not to reason why; ours but to sit and sigh while politicians spin like gigs trying to prove day is night. This time, Jamaica’s healthcare workers are the ones bracing for another debilitating, soul-destroying siege by COVID infections because Government has prioritised the need to guh down deh and wine en masse over their welfare.

Peace and Love!

Gordon Robinson is an attorney-at-law. Email feedback to columns@gleanerjm.com.