STREET BOYS, street wise - My life as a street boy

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No one seemed to know what prompted the tears from this street boy seen in Half-Way Tree. All alone he cried as people hurried by seemingly not caring.

Last Thursday Prime Minister P.J. Patterson launched a major initiative to improve the lives of the nation's street children by eliminating the factors that push them onto the streets. The Possibility Programme as it is called, is being partially funded by the Government and will be managed by an executive management board made up of people drawn from the Church, Government, private sector, non-governmental organisations and businesses. The programme has three components - a care centre, a re-socialising centre and a skills centre. There are an estimated 2,500 children on the street. Lifestyle Reporter Merrick Andrews got a first hand view of the streets recently when he went dressed as a street boy on Marcus Garvey Drive in Kingston. Here's his story.

Merrick Andrews, Staff Reporter

"YUH A nuh big, strong bwoy? Gwaan go look work," answered well known DJ Buju Banton when I begged him money recently. The entertainer and his crew looked me up and down.

I was dressed in a faded pair of crumpled and dirty-looking jeans, black shoes cracked with age, and a cap turned backwards on my head.

Although I was only on assignment to find out what it was like being a street boy - albeit for only part of a day - I felt ashamed.

Hands in my pockets, I walked off slowly as the light turned green - humiliation rang in my ears as they drove off.

As "a hungry and poor street boy," I had expected generosity from the DJ whose songs express sympathy for ghetto youth.

After two hours on the streets - the stoplight at Marcus Garvey Drive (across from the Tinson Pen Aerodrome) in Kingston - it's easy to start feeling like a piece of useless junk.

It's not a kind and gentle world out there. Motorists and passers-by look at you with something akin to fear in their eyes. Strangely enough this can work for you at times. Like the man who allowed me to use his cell phone, (I needed to make a call back to the newsroom). I could feel he did it to be rid of me - he swiftly went for the phone in his right pocket without questions - as I could sense his great discomfort. Yet, he lent me the phone, perhaps fearing my wrath if he refused.

FAMILY 'JUGGLING'

I also came to realise that the street boys I encountered worked like a family. Dazzie, for example, the boy who encouraged me to ask Buju Banton for money, was angry at the way I was treated. "Mi nuh ask dem bwoy de fi money," he said, as if to assuage my hurt feelings.

When I limply gave up because a bus driver shooed me from wiping the windscreen of his mini bus Dazzie, who had lent me his wiper and water bottle, got upset. Frowning at me, he snapped: "Jus' t'row dung a wipe, yu naw fi ask 'im. Give me it now," he said, taking the wiper from me.

So I sat for awhile and watched Dazzie, in the meantime passing motorists gawked at me, laughed, grumbled. Others pretended I didn't exist. Dazzie on the other hand, was fed a constant stream of insults mixed with a dash of coins and a mere flash of the hand from some motorists, a signal meaning no wipe.

Eventually I crossed to the other side of the street where five older-looking boys were busy plying their trade. They bombarded me with questions, wanting to know how I would get my next days meal, where I lived, with whom and whether I attended school. They also suggested that I apply for a job at the nearby wharf because I looked like a "bright bwoy".

"So why yu guys nuh get a job?" I asked. They told me that they had no education, had been on the streets since they were toddlers and preferred to 'juggle' than work for someone else.

Like Dazzie, they wanted to ensure that I earned some money but, commenting that I looked "desperate" they gave me $70 - mainly in coins - and cornbread.

"Tek dis, nuh feel nuh way," said one of them handing me the coins. "If yu did a stay longer you wud get $50 more," one said.

I must admit that they made me feel special, especially when they refused to let me walk from Marcus Garvey Drive to Half-Way Tree. "A walk yu a go walk? Yu caan get a free drive," they said almost in a chorus.

About 10 minutes later, one of the boys ran over to a van, and asked a man for a ride "down the road". The man agreed and both of us hopped on. He got off before me by skilfully hopping off and saying, "Yow, mi gaan."

I was wondering if he was an acrobat based on how swiftly he jumped off the van which was going fairly fast. I tried it when I decided to bail off at Seaview Gardens. However, I wasn't as skilful because I stumbled and nearly fell.

THE STREET BOY SAVVY BARMAID

A barmaid on Spanish Town Road was the only person to show me hostility during my street boy venture. Medium height, fat, dark and appearing to be in her early 30s, she insulted me in front of six customers when I asked to make an emergency phone call.

"NO!," she answered at the top of her voice. I offered to pay for the call but she stuck to her response. "Nuh matter wey yu say, you could a buy a call fi million dollars yu naw get nu call," she added, turning her back to me to pour some rum in a glass.

I walked out as laughter from within the bar erupted behind my back.

I decided then that it was time to end my life on the street. However, it did occur to me that if Dazzie and the others were there it might've been a different scenario. Instead of suffering silent humiliation, I think they would've given her a proper "cussing" or even go as far as throwing stones in the bar.

Then again I thought the barmaid was street boy savvy and knew which ones are tough.

Anyway, I smiled to myself as I boarded the JUTC bus - smiling because I was relieved to leave the streets behind.

According to the National Initiative for Street Children, there are three types of street children: Homeless children, children who go home now and then and children who hustle on the streets and go home.

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