Garth Rattray

I was approaching seven years old when Jamaica achieved independence on August 6, 1962, but I remember that day fairly well. My father, mother, sister and I (my younger brother wasn't born back then) went to our primary school that morning. I recall the beautifully adorned plates, thick, pearly white ceramic cups and other souvenirs (they don't make them like that anymore) - all decorated with our brand new coat of arms and flag. I remember the ceremony and the crowds, the pride, the expectation of a great future and the feeling of something new, magical and wonderful - it was the birth of our nation I was a child, Independence Day was better than Christmas for me. But, that was many tears ago.

Our leaders exuded decorum, honour and a willingness to sacrifice themselves for their country. Jamaica seemed to be foremost in their thoughts. It was a time of transition, a time when the remnants of the organisation and discipline of the British system lingered within our society. Citizens felt that the Government cared about them, was there for them and would take care of them should the need arise. Our leaders seemed to be caretakers firstand politicians second. The civil service was efficient, upstanding and fair. But, that was many tears ago.

Poor communities

Poor communities were not overrun by violence. People did their best to keep their minds, bodies, surroundings and morals clean. Neighbours looked out for each other. Children were indeed raised by a 'village'. Community spirit was high; people never allowed politics or differing ideologies to come between them. Political arguments were mostly confined to exuberant discussions perhaps over a few alcoholic beverages. There were no violent gangs, drug empires or guns barking in the streets. But, that was many tears ago.

Blood and bitter tears of intolerable anguish never ran freely in our streets. Murders were rare and mostly due to domestic disagreements or crimes of passion. Robbers didn't intrude with murder in their hearts. People didn't readily resort to brutality and murder as a means of settling all disputes. Politicians and (later) gangland mobsters didn't conscript directionless, underprivileged and desperate youths to intimidate and slaughter pregnant women, unborn children, girls, boys, the young, middle-aged and elderly to further their own selfish goals. Little boys only carried toy guns and played games like cowboys and Indians. But, that was many tears ago.

Pearl of the Caribbean

Jamaica was beautiful in every way. We were the pearl of the Caribbean. We led, both economically and socially. We were envied by our neigh-bours; their citizens clamoured to visit their big sister island. We were seen as an exotic island paradise. Our people were free to walk any street just about any time of day or night. Children were safe; abductions were unheard of, motorists could park along any thoroughfare (no matter how remote), to rest or recreate without fear. But, that was many tears ago.

Opposing politicians could campaign together and sit civilly to interact with the voting public. There was no bickering, finger-pointing, mud-slinging, name-calling or threats. Mutual respect and decorum prevailed. No guns were provided to 'defend' the garrisons. The lives of our people meant more than mere numbers at the rallies and exes on the ballot. People were simpler back then but not stupid. They would not have allowed others to use them and murder them in their lust for power and glory. 'One love' once had meaning; it was more than an advertising slogan. But, that was many tears ago.