
Originally Posted by
Kahuna3
Poor People in Negril #1
Only one more week left here??!!
Yikes, mon!
I had a quiet day yesterday because I was recovering from Bounty Killa.
There was a torrential downpour yesterday afternoon in Negril. I’ve never seen so much lightning or heard so much thunder. It was awesome. It cleared up just around sunset and then the stars came out. Gotta love it.
We had a party last nite at Sunnyside. One of those impromptu things. Everybody came out after the rain looking for some fun. Robert was dancing behind the bar to Shaggy – Maureen is a better dancer and she sings too, but Robbie did a good job. Then some locals showed up to celebrate one guy’s ‘bert-day’. We all sang happy bert day and then they cut up a cake and passed it around. I passed on the cake because I’d seen the cake lady earlier and had a big piece of choco-coconut. It was my dinner and it was fabulous.
Here are some observations on poor people in Negril.
Jamaica is a third world country and as such the social safety net, where it even exists, has gaping holes in it. The county simply does not have the resources to build and maintain a comprehensive set of social services. Not that services for the poor don’t exist; in Negril there is St. Anthony’s, the church run charity that runs several programs that help the needy and there is the Negril Health Center, which provides medical care to people from town. But the need here is much greater than what is available.
I am no expert on the subject, but I observe, and I see many needy, destitute people out and about, seemingly adrift in the community. Seemingly adrift, but not totally.
Up in Redground there is an elderly gentleman who ‘lives’ just to the side of the street in some low bushes. He sits, head hanging down between his knees, surrounded by a mound of discarded plastic bottles, Styrofoam food containers and other detritus. He too, looks like he’s been cast aside; a heavy pall of desperation hangs about him. But he is part of the neighborhood. People know him. They see him every day and apparently keep watch over him, so he is not alone. Before Christmas his clothes were filthy and hanging off him in tatters. He’s barefoot. The last time I saw him he was wearing a new shirt and pants. New but already heavily soiled. One of the neighborhood folks told me he used to be a tradesman; a carpenter. He spends his whole day sitting on the trash mound, head hung low, baking in the hot sun. Not alone, not adrift, fed and clothed, watched over. Seemingly adrift, but not totally.
The bus park seems to attract the homeless and destitute, perhaps due to its proximity to St. Anthony’s, where meals are served to the needy. Whatever the case, there are always a few apparently homeless people hanging around there. Notably, there is a young man who appears to be in good shape physically and his clothing is in good order, but he is obviously suffering from some kind of mental deficiency. He walks up and down the sidewalk stooped over with his mouth wide open as if he is gagging continuously. Nobody pays him any attention. I wonder if he has a home and is just out and about for the day.
Likkle more . . . .