Paul H. Williams, Contributor

Campbell-Brown, Bolt and Walker

In a world of victors and vanquished, failure and success, there's an island, whose shores are washed by the turquoise waters of the Caribbean Sea. A mere sand bar it is, a dot on the map. The natives are mostly descendants of slaves. A feisty people they are. The blood of resistance boils in their veins; courage is their middle name.

For centuries, they and those who have gone before them have been running. In the bushes of Africa, they ran, away from kidnappers, past overcrowded barracoons, through the 'middle passage' to cane fields and into the hills, marooned. Abolition? emancipation? and independence? they withstood. They danced through the liberating '60s, hurdled the tumultuous '70s, jogged the dormant '80s, skipped the meltdown '90s and jumped over early 21st-century ruts.

under siege

So when on Beijing they are unleashed, the 'Bird's Nest' is under siege. Among them is a man of incredible speed and indomitable spirit, Quao, Cudjo, Jack Mansong, Paul Bogle, Sam Sharpe all in one. The world has never seen his kind, dead or alive. Usain Bolt is his name.

From the hills of Trelawny, he goes, running past BALCO, Montgomery, Gatlin and Gay, through the Beijing haze into the 'Nest'. Run Bolt, run! Your time has come. Beat your chest and tell them 'catch me if you can'. 9.69! It's no lie!

In your glory you too shall dance, dance to the rhythms of your native songs, bathe in the sheer joy. Oh you young, gifted and black, you have the right to cheer. Don't be afraid of Costas, Boldon and the Rogge. Nuh Linga, creep the Gully Creepa. Rock to the '90s, then back to the present, to Shelly-Ann, the new sensation.

With head held high, not worried about who is behind, eyes set on gold, she sprints past the rapist, teenage pregnancy, the decadence, the zinc fence, the drugs, the suffering. 10.78! Prance with unbridlled joy. Laugh, laugh, laugh with all your heart; you have played your part. Lighten up that smoggy Beijing sky with your bright Jamaican smile. Oh sweet ghetto child! But wait, it's one, two, two! Kerron and Sherone are in it too. It's insane. No it's Usain, standing by, again.

wannabe

Tall, imposing specimen of a man, built like a Titan. There he goes around the bend, leaving every wannabe in his wind. For 12 years that record has lasted; now, it's the dearly departed. You are number one, you are number one! Wait nuh man! Why yuh hogging the cameras so long? Another Olympic record is about to die, by the one in the bud's nest hairstyle, the Walker, she who is the hurdler.

With a flash of the head, the daughter of Maxfield tested them, getting ready to jump over the hurdles of life. Deon has done it, so you can. Jump Melaine, jump! Two Americans are by your sides. Jump over gunshots, cries of woe, dead bodies lying low, the war, the strife, jump right to the finish line. Pose Melaine, pose! the cameras are snapping, Gucci is watching, catwalks are coming. Veronica is waiting.

She is the warrior, with the fortitude of a Nanny, the courage of a Portia, and the determination of an Ottey. From the hills of Cornwall and the plains of Vere, she is dashing. Hurricane Felix is way behind, blowing and blowing, but you are going and going, gold again you are getting.

Carter, Frater, Bolt! with the speed of lightning. Run Asafa, run! 37.10! World record! It's done. Dance Asafa, dance and laugh. Gold at last! Beat the drums, blow the abengs, the Bird's Nest is on fire! The Jamaicans have invaded the Chinese Empire.

As the curtains come downs on Beijing, their ancestors smile in their graves for they know that their blood, sweat and tears were not in vain. Now, the world is at their feet, questioning their feats.