Roadblocks

We had a few more roadblocks last week, although locally, roadblock is really not the right term.

On Jamaica, the term “roadblock” is used to describe a police action, whereby two to four police will find a nice, shady spot by the side of the road, and then pull over anyone they choose. Sometimes they will have a huge, stationary radar unit and give out speeding tickets to the unworthy. Other times they will stage spot safety checks, or try to isolate and persecute the robot taxis, or just shake down the motorists. The best thing about driving a government van is that I very rarely get stopped at these travesties of justice. If they do wave you down though, by all means, stop. Those prominently displayed assault rifles are probably loaded.

Instead, what we had more of last week is what is locally called a “demonstration”. The worst of these demonstrations could better be called a riot.

The most severe in recent memory occurred just prior to our arrival, when there were demonstrations islandwide to protest an increase in the fuel tax. In every parish, junked cars, old tires, and debris were used to block the road. Shops and vehicles were torched. People beat on other people.

Eventually, the Jamaica Defense Force was deployed to keep the peace, clear the roads of junked cars and debris, put out the fires, and beat on other people. This demonstration went on for about three days, and losses were huge to businesses, individuals, and the island’s fragile image as a pleasant and safe tourist destination. As a result, the government repealed the proposed taxes, giving the people what they wanted.

Of course, over the next year, the government inched up the taxes in less noticeable ways, back to the level of the original increase, so the government got what they wanted too.

These nationwide demonstrations are uncommon, to be sure. The only other instance that comes to mind is when the national football squad (i.e. soccer team) won a place in the World Cup, and happy demonstrations shut down the island for a couple of days. More often, the demonstrations are local, and involve single issue protestors. Unfortunately, the highway is a very large single issue.

The poor condition of the roads is a commonly demonstrable offence. When the folks living next to the project get overtired of the dust and construction debris, they drag out the Lada shells and a couple of downed trees and seal off the transportation corridor. Recently, this has been happening somewhere along the project about once a week.

Jamaicans are great for their demonstration preparedness, bringing placards, scrawled on scrap cardboard and waved in front of the news cameras. That is, if the news cameras bother to attend. Demonstrations over poor road conditions occur so commonly across the island that it is no longer news.

The demonstrations do get some degree of attention though, especially when the road being blocked is this one. Johnsontown is noted for their demonstrations, and many a stick of water main has been buried recently bearing the spray painted tag “we want our road”, having been previously used as a large, blue, cylindrical, road blocking placard.

Usually the demonstrations are well planned. As such, we will sometimes hear of one pending, and can work to resolve it prior to the fact. Too often, these are developed and executed under the direct supervision of area dons and/or the local parliamentarian. Once one or the other of these is satisfied, the demonstration will quietly end. The people will then mill around for a while and grumble, until some new activity comes along.

Sometimes the demonstrations will not block the road, but just the work. As the work moves from place to place along the roadway, the locals will demand that they be hired to construct that part of the project which runs through their neighborhood. Too often, large groups will converge upon a job site and demand employment. They will raise a ruckus, get in the way, take over the heavy equipment, and pester the employed until a few get hired as Rastabouts, flagmen, or idle wage earners.

At Probyn Bridge, a large gang of locals (nee mob) accosted the superintendent, demanding work. Their claim was that, since the workers already employed had been at the task for the past five months, it was now their turn to be hired. The Contractor was then instructed by the mob to fire all of his help and hire from the pool of the great unskilled. He chose to retain his current workforce, and has been shut down at this location for the better part of a week. Actually he has been stalled at two locations, as his small tool storage was at this bridge, so he cannot get supplies from this to another site until the demonstration ends.

Last week we had two demonstrations simultaneously, which probably diluted each message overall. One at Riley, just east of Lucea, was to protest the lack of garbage pickup in the community. The community, however, is a few chains from the main road. To demonstrate there would have had no effect at all, so they dragged their junked Lada’s down from home and deposited them where they would get a better response.

On the eastern embankment to the new bridge at Kew, just west of the highway camp, residents amassed to demonstrate a different problem totally unrelated to the road works. They were concerned that, once the highway was completed, the government would completely forget about their little spot on the planet and would never spend another Jamaican dime in their community. They were demonstrating to make known their need for water and power and phones, and now must have seemed a good time to squawk. Since the folks in Riley were demonstrating as well, it must have got them in the mood.

I think part of the simultaneous nature of these two demonstrations is due to the fact that Michelle has been raining on the Land of Wood and Water for two weeks. I imagine that a tropical variant of cabin fever (“zinc shack syndrome”) has gripped the people, forcing some ejaculation.

The Kew-pers went to far, though, and failed to disperse upon command. What followed then is unclear, but it did involve a fair amount of government issued tear gas and some gun fire.

Worst was that there was no way into Lucea for most of the day, so I could not get to my favorite Ital place for stew peas, ackee, tofu and a cold beet root juice. Yum.

Valerie’s, though, the other way in Sandy Bay, has got some good chicken and yams.
Lunch was saved.