Fire! Fire! A slice of life on the fire line

By Claude Mills, Staff Reporter

Fire-fighter Raphael Laing (left) attaches the cutting section of the Jaws of Life to a generator on a truck as District Officer Calvin Brown holds onto the cables. Sergeant Winford Murray (on the ladder) looks on. The Jaws of Life is used to free motorists trapped in their vehicles during accidents. - Ian Allen

IT IS 1:29 a.m. when the call comes to the Spanish Town Fire Station. There is an animated exchange between the duty man, Raphael Laing, and the caller. Seconds later, the air inside the station almost shakes with the burr of a bell which sounds like someone firing an Uzi at a gong.

Only seconds after that, firemen race down the steps, their faces half-groggy with sleep, frantically dragging on tunics while simultaneously jumping into their heavy work boots. The air is alive with anticipation. It is the lure of the fire and the fire-fighters say they never tire of the adrenaline rush of the call to duty.

"Where is it? Where is it?" a number of voices ask.

The duty man barks out an address and the men jump into the diminutive 1985 Isuzu fire truck donated by the Japanese government and dash off the premises at 1:30 a.m. Three minutes later, they are at the scene of the fire in a narrow, crowded community called Williams Lane.

SOMETIMES PEOPLE LAUGH AT OUR LITTLE TOY TRUCK

Back at the station, the phone rings continuously as frantic neighbours call, worried that the fire will spread to their houses. Assistant Superintendent Clive Reynolds makes a judgement call, requesting backup from the Portmore and Old Harbour substations immediately.

"The truck that we have here at the Spanish Town station is inadequate as we can only spray the water for three minutes tops because of the truck's limited capacity," he explains. "Sometimes, people laugh at us and ask 'where are you going with that little toy truck? But we just laugh, they can always joke, but we have a job to do."

At the scene, the roof rack of lights on the fire truck flash strobes of red, but its howler is off in deference to the hour. A gathering of curious neighbours dressed in nighties, stocking caps, pyjamas -- some even bare-chested -- fill up the lane. One woman takes out a chair so she can comfortably watch this pre-dawn show. And what a show!

A young man, standing on the roof of his house throws buckets of water onto the fire which has swallowed the three-bedroom house in a wall of orange red flames.

With the water from the truck now spent, the fire-fighters stand back as waves of heat fan out from the engulfed house. Hungry flames lick the last standing beams of the building, sparks fly into the air and smoke billows out. A woman coughs as young children and dogs scamper through the crowd.

The arrows of accusation start to fly.

"See it? Dem nuh come prepared, dem shoulda have three more trucks ah come behind this one fi try save the people dem tings," says one woman.

There is a popping sound as the tremendous heat begins to crumple the zinc like foil, and the smell of acrid fume is everywhere.

It is 1:46 a.m. before the Portmore truck arrives, and the Spanish Town unit goes to the top of the cul-de-sac to turn so that it can return to base for a fresh supply of water. The trucks squeeze by each other in the narrow lane, and afterwards, the sound of jets of high-pressure water hitting the zinc, and the shouts of the firemen fill the air.

WATCH OUT FOR THE LIVE WIRES

The firemen saturate the roofs of adjoining homes, and attack columns with thick sheaves of sparks to stop the fire from spreading to other homes. The Spanish Town truck returns and parks a few metres away, its engine idling. There is a change in the note of the truck's engine as the firemen start the relay system which enables the Spanish Town truck to pump water into the Portmore truck whose hoses are being used by both teams to battle the blaze.

The truck ends up making three trips to refill and return because the major water tender stationed at Spanish Town has been out of operation for several weeks.

While the fire-fighters battle the blaze, Jamaica Public Service Company (JPSCo) representatives are nowhere in sight, despite getting a call more than two hours before to cut off the electricity.

"Watch out for the live wires," Assistant Superintendent Reynolds shouts to a group of firemen. Almost on cue, there is a hiss from a nest of live wires close by, and the firemen are forced to jump out of the way.

Assistant Superintendent Reynolds from the Spanish Town station gets on his cellular phone -- the fire-fighters do not have radios to communicate -- to call the headquarters to get an update on when JPSCo. would be arriving.

In the meantime Mavis Smith and her husband Wesley, who suffers from Parkinson's Disease, watch the terrible beauty of the fire as it consumes all their earthly belongings.

Mrs. Smith, who had rushed from the house leaving even her slippers behind, is barefooted but calm although her toes squish in the mud formed from the spray of water from the hose.

"I just have to try to remain calm, that's all. Eight of us live in that house and I don't know how we're going to survive...it was the candle that was in the middle room which was burning because of the power cut," she says, shaking her head.

"I was sitting in the couch watching CTV when I dozed off, and then Andrew, my son, cried out 'somebody in the house, somebody in the house', and I got up, and I saw the fire in the middle room. My son pushed me outside, and everybody else start to come out too. We couldn't save nothing."

HOT SHEETS OF ZINC

It is 2:45 a.m. now. The fire is under control. Danger averted, the fire-fighters are engaging in cooling down operations. They use ceiling hooks to dig in the charred remains of the concrete and wood building to expose pockets of smouldering debris to be extinguished.

They have no breathing apparatus, some have only one glove, but they quietly remove hot sheets of zinc, never complaining and even sharing the few gloves between them. They stick to the task until it is completed.

While the men prepare to leave, District Officer Godfrey Clement gives a few words of encouragement to Mrs. Smith telling her that "the same God who spared your life tonight and helped you to build all this will give you the strength to do all this again and better". She nods and smiles, grateful for his kind words, even in the midst of her wretchedness.

After 4:00 a.m., the men stumble into the station. Exhausted, their faces blackened by soot they discard their soiled fire tunics and boots scuffed and muddy from the fire fight as they head upstairs to grab some sleep. Spirits high from the conquest of the fire, their faces fall a little as they come home to a poorly-equipped fire station. One man, fire-fighter C Prince looks at the reporter and asks: "You know what the people on the street call us?"

The reporter shakes his head.

"They refer to us as watermen, not even the name they get right."

The reporter nods his head in sympathy as Mr. Prince continues: "They throw stones at us, and bottles, they abuse us verbally when we fail to save their furniture...they call our truck a toy...and we risk our lives for them every night, with inadequate equipment, the nurse tender (a water truck which holds thousands of litres) is not working, sometimes no gloves, fire hydrants that don't work, it tough man."

Another man, Corporal D Smith adds: "But this is what we do, the work is a part of we, when we see a fire, we forget everything, the abuse, the short pay, the lack of equipment, the poor facilities...this is our job, we do anything to save lives, we will go beyond the call of duty."

...we get no respect

IN THE old days, one of the perks of being a fireman was the dreamy-eyed fascination of young women who fell for the romance of his job ­ the acts of heroism and tales of bravery.

These days, however, the stock of firemen among young, nubile women seems to have fallen with time ­ or, as it were, gone up in smoke.

"The girls don't really want no fireman 'cause we no have no money," one young fire-fighter joked.

Fire-fighter Andrew Morgan of the Spanish Town Fire station in St. Catherine agrees: "In Hollywood movies, and in shows like Sex and the City, firemen are seen as sex objects and shown as heroes, but not in Jamaica, it's your pocket that counts...and right now, with the long hours and the low pay, Joe Grind ah bruk we foot inna de joint."

At the Spanish Town station, firemen no longer even experience the simple rush of sliding down the pole when responding to emergency calls, because there are no cushions in place to absorb the impact of their descent.

"You use the pole at your own risk," one corporal said.

On the road, fire-fighters have found that emergency vehicles responding to calls of distress, are shown scant respect by other motorists.

"People tend not to respect firemen, if you don't do gun work, they don't respect you...motorists overtake you on the road, they block you out, and challenge you. We get no respect," Assistant Superintendent Clive Reynolds said.

What is the reason behind the disdain, and lack of interest shown to members of this essential service?

"One of the common reasons that fire-fighters are so
low-profile is that crime takes the precedence, and criminalism is everywhere and every day, and fires don't occur as frequently in the public eye," reckoned the Assistant Superintendent.

The firemen at the Spanish Town station (as at other stations across the island) are also handicapped by a raft of problems, among them inadequate bathrooms, muggy and overcrowded sleeping facilities, the lack of breathing apparatus, a shortage of gloves, a fire prevention jeep with a flat tyre, no foam trucks, malfunctioning equipment like fire hydrants, and an inefficient radio network.

"Plus, we have a large nurse (water truck) bender which holds thousands of litres of water (but it) has been out of operation for weeks because of mechanical problems," noted District Officer Godfrey Clement.

The Spanish Town fire station acts as the headquarters for the fire fighting operations in St. Catherine with backup support provided by the Linstead, Old Harbour and Portmore sub-stations.

In St. Catherine, there have been a number of high profile fires ­ the most recent being at the Portmore Mall ­ which ought to have thrown a high-wattage spotlight on the woes of the fire service.

"We have to hope that we don't have anymore fires like that or we'll be in danger. In the Portmore Mall fire, the fire-fighters were unable to go in because we had no breathing apparatus, but still, there has been no change," said Assistant Superintendent Reynolds.

C.M.

Woman enough for the job

FIRE FIGHTING is a masculine chore but more than 120 women on the staff of the Jamaica Fire Brigade are woman enough for the job.

There are women involved in almost every facet of the brigade, including fire prevention, operations, accounts and administration.

The conditions are not wonderful overall, say some of the women, still, they shrug off their concerns when duty calls and stand helmet-to-helmet with their male counterparts.

"We are trained the same way, and we have a job to perform so we just suck it up and do it. Sometimes, we have to perform twice as hard as the guys do to keep our jobs," says Devalie Charlton, Assistant Superintendent in charge of registry, records, and women's affairs. "The women tend not to complain, we internalise and try to perform as best we can. We don't really want to rock the boat too much."

There are no women training in the present batch of new recruits, but Assistant Superintendent Charlton says she's not too concerned about this development. She knows that there are many fine women already in the force. In time, more similarly motivated women will join the brigade to save lives, protect property and the environment, she believes.

"You have to be motivated, there are opportunities in the Jamaica Fire Brigade but you have to keep studying and pushing to get where you want to be. Just put your head down and work," she says.

"More women could join the brigade...but only time will tell," she said.

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