Myrtha Déulmé, ContributorWhen I returned to Jamaica, in my early 20s, after spending most of my formative years in Europe, Jamaica seemed an enchanted isle. A magical vibration reigned, to the sweet soundtrack of reggae, the spiritual message music, which captured the revolutionary spirit of the age. The feel-good, glad-to-be-alive vibes brought tourists from near and far, and a certain sector of the population made it their religion to imbibe these good vibes, living to the rhythm of music, good times and laughter, in a style epitomised by the Island Outpost trademark of rustic laid-back luxury, rooted in Jamaica's colourful roots culture.
I attended UWI, where scholars debated the creation of the post-colonial identity, class and colour politics, and the socio-economic challenges facing the Caribbean nation in a globalised world. I roamed the length and breadth of Jamaica, captivated by this mystical land. Everywhere, one encountered friendly, charming, welcoming people, and in these golden days, heart-warming friendships were formed.
When I settled down long enough to watch the news on TV, I was appalled by the images which closer inspection revealed: People living in tenement yards with raw sewage running past their houses; mothers wailing nightly that the police had killed their sons; police invariably spinning tall tales about "shoot-outs"; people blocking roads because, for years, they had had to endure living with no water; dilapidated schools and hospitals falling apart about their patrons' ears; brazen criminals robbing and killing in bright daylight. Welcome to Jamrock!
I started to notice that in Jamaica, the haves and the have-nots lived cheek by jowl, often with no experience of each other's reality. Through employment, the have-nots were, in fact, very privy to the haves' intimate luxuries, while the haves only saw the have-nots superficially, and had no notion of their day-to-day predicament.
RUDE AWAKENING
The Jamaican working classes, so exposed to American consumerism and materialism, through relatives, TV, or their own experience, and witnessing the local corruption in the system, refused to settle for the scarcity and hardship of the home front, resulting in seething hotbeds of frustration, anger, and the determination to get rich quick at any cost.
My attention was to be drawn still further to the harsher realities of Jamaica, when the country was beset by the FINSAC debacle. In a desperate attempt to control inflation and the cost of living, the Government had been issuing government paper to mop up excess liquidity in the system, while jacking up interest rates on the scarce liquidity. Interest rates reached a mind-boggling 60 per cent with approved overdrafts at 80 per cent, and the penal rate at a whopping 120 per cent! What business in the world could survive these punishing interest rates?!
Capital was being systematically transferred from the manufacturing sector to the speculators buying government paper, which included droves of foreigners taking advantage of the exorbitant interest rates, to export Jamaica's capital. The Government and the private sector were competing for money. The Government figured that constricting the productive sector would get rid of the troublesome demand for foreign exchange, permitting it to stabilise the volatile exchange rate.
In its short-sighted view, the Government failed to take into account the fact that the economy can only grow through production. When the state resorts to borrowing money from local and foreign financial institutions, to invest in government paper, using tax money to finance same, and the banks are living off of these same risk-free bonds, where is the incentive for anyone to invest in the productive sector? These policies can only result in a crippled economy.
STATE OF THE NATION
Several years of this unsustainable regime, resulted in a meltdown of the financial sector. The Government's refusal to take the necessary fiscal measures, like cutting the budget, insisting instead on its own ill-conceived monetary measures, wiped out a whole section of Jamaica's productive sector, killing the entrepreneurial spirit in the process.
From 2004 on, I was immersed in the seismic events convulsing Haiti in its Bicentenary year, forming the Haiti-Jamaica Society to search for solutions.
By Christmas 2007, Jamaica was in the grip of rising global oil and food prices, and the fallout of double election fever. There was also a new and disturbing phenomenon: policemen, our "men in blue", were increasingly among the murder victims. What the Americans call "the thin blue line" between law and order, and the descent into social anarchy, seemed to be fast eroding.
Yet, on a sunny December morning, I awoke to watch Northerners battling snowstorms on TV, while I enjoyed my cup of coffee, to the twitter of tropical birds. Savouring a glass of Christmas sorrel with friends later that day, I noted that the love was still there, and that palm trees still swayed against golden sunsets in the Christmas breeze. This led me to consider all of the blessings Jamaica could still be thankful for: "Buck up" friends you have not seen in years, greet you with love and warmth, as if you had just nparted the day before; a Bob Marley tune still tugs at your heartstrings as you turn a corner on a Friday evening; tiny schoolgirls in heritage outfits reciting Miss Lou are irresistibly precious; the glistening Caribbean Sea caresses warm white sand beaches; stunning waterfalls take your breath away; the heart-stopping Truth of a single word from a Rasta elder, or a country Granny, can set you free; a soca tune can get your feet going in the most unlikely places; fresh coconut water on a country road tastes better than Veuve Cliquot Ponsardin; and the Asafa Powells and Veronica Campbells still keep coming.
Let us get rid of what's unreal: the illusion of scarcity and lack, which drives factions to each other's throats, causes the blood of innocents to be shed, and incites greed, corruption, political expediency, and tribalism, to "secure one's own". Leaders don't look for consensus. They create it.
Let's have faith in Jamaica. Faith is the sound the songbird makes before the dawn. Let's immerse ourselves in Miss Lou's boonoonoos Jamaica, so we can all go back to enjoying in peace, this lush, beautiful, and blessed land, we call home. Happy 2008!
Myrtha Désulmé is President of the Haiti-Jamaica Society. myrtha2004@yahoo.com
