"Coming In From the Cold" ...Bob Marley

My Mother's Obit

2012-02-16T14:28:00.000-08:00

Violet Ursula Johnson

Mrs. Violet Ursula Johnson passed away peacefully Saturday morning on
February 11, 2012 at her home in Lawrenceville, GA. She is preceded by her
husband Arthur L. Johnson. Violet is survived by four sons: Basil Waine Kong,
Earl Kong, Robert Johnson and Kevin Johnson: three sisters: Edna Miles, Myra
McDonald, Madge Allen and two brothers: Ransford McKenzie and Elton McKenzie;
eleven grandchildren, ten great grandchildren, several nieces and nephews.

Violet was born and grew up in Woodlands, St. Elizabeth, Jamica. She immigrated to the
United States in 1947. She married Arthur Johnson in 1948 and settled in Morristown, NJ where she raised her family. A memorial service will be held at 2:00 p.m. on
Saturday, February 18 at Bethesda United Methodist Church.

Wages & Sons Funeral Home, Gwinnett Chapel, 1031 Lawrenceville Hwy., Lawrenceville, GA 30046, 770-277-4550

Online condolences may be expressed at www.wagesandsons.com.

I Am A Motherless Child

2012-02-12T21:34:00.001-08:00

Basil Waine Kong

I am feeling sad and lost. I awoke this morning to the news of my mother’s passing. My feelings are great sadness of this significant loss but mixed with the celebration of a long meaningful life. My mother would have been ninety on her next birthday in December and we had promised her a big party as something to anticipate. In my last visit with her last week before I left for Jamaica, my Uncle Ronnie marveled at how she perked up and engaged me in a substantial conversation. As was my custom, I would enter her home with a thunderous: “How is mi Mumma?” “Mi Daya”

Even though I have been physically separated from my mother for long periods, I have never been a motherless child. My mother has been my anchor, my lifeline and the force that shaped my life. When she was nineteen years old, she delivered me at Kingston Jubilee Hospital, where I fell to the floor as none of the nurses or doctors responded to my mother's cries for help. While I survived the fall, it was nonetheless a rude awakening! She named me for Basil Rathbone, an English movie actor and I was off to see the world.

My brother Earl joined us a year later and we lived together in a house at 15 Jacques Road in the Mountain View section of Kingston until I was four years old. When she migrated to the United States, she left us in the care of her mother (the greatest Grand Mother the world has ever known) in Woodlands District (St. Elizabeth) and we saw our mother infrequently over the next ten years. During this time, however, we wrote to each other often. Her letters assured us of her love and inquired about our health and well being. We, in turn, would just beg her to send us something or other. In her absence, I adopted and regarded all my Aunts as my mothers and all my uncles as fathers.

We were, however, never out of her thoughts. She sent a $50 money order each and every month and a parcel with clothes and toys about six times per year. The members of the community would see us carrying these packages from the Springfield Post Office and jealously comment that more "bregede" had arrived. One of the exciting items in one of the parcels was a gramophone. It was a marvel that attracted a great deal of attention as people wondered how the musicians got into the box to make the sound. One day, my brother’s curiosity got the better of him and he broke it looking for the people inside. That was the end of our musical interludes.

I remember my granny marking our feet on paper, cutting and sending the imprint to my mother so that she could send shoes. When the shoes came, if they were too big, I would stuff them with paper until I grew into them. If they were too small, we would fill them with dry corn and dipped them in water. As the corn expanded, so did the shoes. Not many people had shoes and those who did often carried them until they got to church before putting them on. The remittances my mother sent for our care also went a long way to support the community as well.

I left the people I loved most and the village that raised me to go to 'merica on April 3, 1959. The day we arrived in New York via Avianca Airways, it was cold and snowing. Meeting my new father and brothers for the first time signaled that there were going to be a lot of adjustments in our thinking and experience. Our other brothers (Robbie and Kevin Johnson) had to get used to sharing Mom, their rooms, toys and clothes. At least for the first three months, Mom was extremely attentive and showered us with her time, her cooking, her guidance, and tutoring. In addition to all the ice-cream, Jell-O and cakes we could eat, movies and bowling, she tended to the concerted cultivation of our skills and talents.

I ate in a restaurant for the first time when she took us to see, hear and feel the pulse of New York City including seeing it from the Empire State Building. This was both exciting and intimidating. Our necks ached as we could not stop looking up at the tall buildings. I was impressed by the lights on Broadway, the man smoking camel cigarettes, the George Washington Bridge, the Lincoln Tunnel and the number of automobiles reminded me of an ant's nest. I had come a long way from Woodlands.

When we started attending Morristown High School, we only spoke deep country patois that no one understood and we obviously could not decipher what Americans said either. We became exhausted having to repeat ourselves to no avail as people continually asked: “What did you say?” and we responded: "a wa yu a say?" One of my teachers asked me if I believed everything I read and I said yes. Why would they write something that wasn't true? I reflected on my experience at the Denbeigh Show when I watched a weight lifter with the body of Adonis reached a weight that he could not handle but after he went to a Guinness booth and heartily drank a stout, he returned to easily hoist the stubborn weight over his head to great applause. I have been trying to get that magic strength ever since by consuming lots of Guinness. I remember that an argument could be easily won by just showing your opponent that it was written in the Gleaner or the Bible. In fact, I believed the Gleaner was the Bible.

My mother recognized our severe educational deficits and hired a language teacher, a piano teacher, a math teacher and a writing teacher---we were kept busy. She even sent us to a Psychiatrist to help us with our adjustment when wata come a wi eye and we both demanded to be sent back to the idyllic life we remembered in Jamaica. What we missed most were a community of people who cared. Other than our immediate family, we felt like no one else in America cared.

In the mornings, we got dressed, went to school, participated in sports after school and then to a tutor before coming home, eating, doing the dishes and our homework and going to sleep exhausted. Mom's strategy was to keep us busy and out of trouble. She was a constant presence at our athletic contests especially wrestling. She sometimes brought fried scallops in paper bags for the entire team. The wrestlers described what they were eating as pieces of meat that tasted like fish. Mom told me that the scallop is a shellfish that looked like the Shell Gasoline symbol. Having to starve ourselves before these wrestling meets, we welcomed this treat. Even now, when I run into one of my old team mates, they always recall the scallops and my mother's kindness.

We went to the YMCA often and learned to swim, do gymnastics, play basketball and play with other children. I once fell on my head doing the rings in Gymnastics class---no problem. I have been developing a hard head from the moment I was born and from the school of hard knocks. While I was otherwise a talented athlete, I never got the knack of basketball or football. However, there was never a time when I was not involved in varsity sports. I lettered and excelled in track (set a 400 meter school record in 50.3 seconds), soccer, cross country and especially wrestling. The Kong brothers were both district champion wrestlers. I wrestled at the 122 weight class and my brother Earl weighed 114 pounds at the time. I have gained one pound each year since then.

When my sixteenth birthday approached, she learned that I never had a birthday party. So, she decided that she would give me a special party. The problem was that I had just arrived and did not know anyone other than family and the few neighbors on our block. So, I invited everybody I encountered at my high school. On the night of the party, hundreds of kids showed up and she had to bar the door and only allowed 20 people to come at a time while very upset kids who were asking for the free food I promised and lingered in the street in front of our house. On that memorable birthday I received my first ever birthday presents: a briefcase, a Webcore tape recorder and a Phillips transistor radio.

Mom was active in the civil rights movement. In addition to supporting the movement, she worked with a group to integrate rental properties. She even invited me to speak up in these living room gatherings. The Black women would try to rent homes and was told that it was rented but when the white women applied, they were accepted and offered the same appartment. Their activities lead to equal housing legislation in New Jersey.

My mother personally taught us to drive her 1957 Chevrolet and took us to caddy at Springbrook Country Club on week-ends. We had to save everything we earned. I learned to play golf at sixteen when a member gave me an old set of clubs and we were allowed to play on caddy day (Mondays). I now play regularly to a 14 handicap. I am frustrated that after playing golf for fifty years, this is as good as I get. I am told in Jamaica that "golf doesn't live in any body's yard".

My step-father, Arthur Johnson, worked for Ford Motor Company, had a generous heart and always drove the latest model Cadillac. He took us fishing, to the race track, taught us to pitch horse shoes and a baseball. He played poker with us and we often enjoyed a beer together. To my mother's disgust, he would never ask for directions and we were always lost in our travels but he was good at fixing cars and appliances. He regaled us daily with his World War 11 stories and reminded us about how we could achieve great things in America if we put our minds and hearts into whatever we wanted to do. He wanted me to play professional baseball as he once played in the Negro baseball league.

Marcus Garvey’s “Back to Africa” movement was in full swing when my mother was born on December 16, 1922 to William and Rosella McKenzie. In the eyes of all who knew her in her later years, she was no longer the little meaga gal from Woodlands. “She big shot”, “Big Stuff”, “Big cheese”, “Big Mama”, “Big Heart”. At 89 years old, she was in reasonably good health, owned her own house and managed her own affairs. Independence was important to her. So, while she made me her guardian, I never interfered with her decisions as her mind is like a steel trap that could recall everything.

She has strong opinions and was regarded as the mother of our extended family. Newlyweds or the recently arrived from Jamaica or England furnished their homes from the abundance of furniture, appliances and utensils from her house. And she enjoyed the love showered on her by family and friends and she in turn, adored her brothers (John, Randall, Keith, Ronnie and Elton) and worshiped her sisters (Myrtle, Elva, Madge, Edna, Sylvia and Myra). I called the sisters the “Black Widows” as all of their husbands died many years ago. She is devoted to her children (Basil, Earl, Robbie and Kevin); especially love her grandchildren (Roberto, Ricardo, Christopher, Jill, Melanie, Freddie, Aleron, Devin, Aaron, Keisha and Tiffany); And love, love, love, love her sweet, beautiful great grand pickny dem (Jessica, Tina, Mackenzie, Audrey Violet, Kevin, Maurice, Books, Vincent, Kai, Hailie and more coming). She lived a successful life. There is nothing that her daughters-in law, Stephanie, Carol and Toshimi wouldn't do for her and she is pampered by her nieces and nephews Patty, Carla, Yvonne, Hugh, Neville and Babs.

In 1938, after leaving Springfield School, she was sent to Kingston to live with her Sister Myrtle and find work so she could help support her siblings after her father (William McKenzie) died. She soon buck upon Chan Kong with whom she had two children. When Chan unexpectedly returned to China, she had to "turn hand and make fashion". She took her two boys to live with her mother and went off to the United States. When a gentleman in Kingston found out that she was going to America, he gave her a bottle of Appleton over-proof rum to give to his friend who lived in New Jersey. Soon after arriving in New York, she diligently made her way to New Jersey and delivered the rum.

Upon their meeting, Mr. Arthur Johnson immediately became intoxicated by her beauty. They fell in love and in a world wind of activity, were married ten days later on May 26, 1948. The union produced two more boys (Robbie and Kevin). Arthur and Vie lived happily together for 50 years. Unfortunately, because Arthur was a heavy smoker, (a habit he picked up from receiving free cigarettes as a soldier in Uncle Sam’s Army), he died from lung cancer in 1997. When he was asked if he knew how to play Bid Whist, he is fondly remembered as saying: “Who do you think put the bid in Whist?”

When I was graduating from Dickinson Law School, her comment was: “Son, you know how proud I am for all you have done with your life, but aren’t you concerned that lawyers can’t go to Heaven?”

My brother Earl studied architecture in New York for two years after high school but ended up joining the United States Air force and served in Taiwan for two years. He married Carol Gatchell from the Willamette Valley region of Oregon. He graduated from Oregon State with a degree in Forestry and after a successful career as a Forester with the State of Washington, retired in 2008. He authored a book and now works as a consultant. Earl is a philosopher, poet, a superb nature artist, knows the names and uses of all the trees, flowers, berries and stones one would encounters in the forest. He fights forest fires and can fix everything. While I didn’t pay too much attention, Earl had apprenticed with Arthur Johnson and is now a great brother, son, husband, father and grandfather. As a consultant to the Eskimos on the management of their forests, he allowed my wife (Stephanie) and me to accompany him and his wife to Alaska to see the running of the salmon, the eagles, the whales, the black bears, the sea lions, to fish for 100 pound halibut and meet the people. It was an incredible experience.

In addition to the gift of gab, Robbie was magnificent on the trumpet, played in a swing band and was nicknamed “Sugar Lips Johnson.” He went on to start and manage several successful small businesses including used cars. Unfortunately, due to smoking, uncontrolled high blood pressure and stress, he suffered a stroke at fifty years of age and still making adjustments. He has three sons who are all absolutely dedicated to him.

In addition to his great intellect and oriental cooking skills, Kevin was the tall, handsome athlete who was a football and basketball star in High School. He married his childhood sweetheart (Shuggie) immediately after graduating from high school and joined the Air Force. After his discharge, he moved to Seattle and worked for the State of Washington developing business opportunities in the Far East for Washington based business interests. He can speak and write Japanese fluently and received the equivalent of an MBA studying in Japan. He has a black belt in Karate. His talents are deep as he can beat us all in everything, pool, tennis, ping pong and basketball. He has two children and two grand children and currently works for the State of Oregon in Portland. His current wife is Toshimi.

When Mom's nephew from Mile Gully, Manchester (Errol McKenzie), wanted to study in the United States, she took him to her friend, Congressman Frelinghuysen, who got Errol a student Visa. She also encouraged me, as I was an Assistant Professor at the University of the District of Columbia to help. Errol went on to earn a master’s degree in Business Administration and subsequently became Senior Vice President at “Sagicor”---a strapping success!

I am a great advocate for organ transplantation and talked my mother into signing her driver’s license authorizing doctors to harvest her organs if and when she died. While she eventually agreed, her initial response was that it is clearly un-Christian to be buried without all your organs. "What if", she said, "Lazarus had donated his organs when he died and the Lord came and commanded: 'Lazarus, raise come!' Lazarus would have fi say: 'mi can't come you know sah. What mi fi do? They take everything.' And the Lord would have fi say: 'Dog nam yu supper Lazarus. Sorry fi you'"

Whether it was the house on Carlton Street, Spring Street, Phoenix Avenue, Mt. Freedom in New Jersey or Lawrenceville, Georgia, my mother always has a welcome mat out. When someone calls to inquire about her health, her typical response is: “Me still above the ground and taking nourishment.” If you wanted to hear a good joke or catch up on what is going on with the extended family, she was the person to call. If you wanted really great food, she made the best crab dip, pea soup, curry chicken, rice and peas and escovitched fish. She also gave good hugs. I will miss that very much. Because I was always encouraging her to exercise, she once invited me to walk with her around the block. She then produced a one inch child’s block and placed it on the floor and them said: “Let’s go!” She was very pleased with her wit. When the phone rang at night she often used a Man’s voice to discourage unwanted guests.

My mother has truly been blessed by God because her “Big Heart” that overflowed with love for her children, family and friends. She has been trying to bring a little bit of Heaven to earth because those of us who are lawyers may never get there. Through her aches and pains, she found time to attend church, laugh and to enjoy special moments with friends and family.

Thank you Mom. God is pleased with you. So, have a blessed rest. You can sit down happy.

Tragedy - 2 students drown on school trip

2012-02-04T03:55:00.000-08:00

Tragedy - 2 students drown on school trip

I am upset and angry to learn this morning that two more yuths and a bus driver drowned yesterday. Everytime I hear or read about children drowning in Jamaica (and it is a frequent occurence) I beg the Minister of Education to please, please, please make swimming part of the curriculum. In a country of wood and water, ninety percent of our citizens cannot swim. It is a tragedy waiting to repeat itself. All my children and grand children could swim by the time they were three years old. Almost everyone can learn to swim in 30 minutes! This should be part of our literacy program.

Our Annual Christmas Letter

2012-02-01T19:26:00.000-08:00

Christmas 2011

Another year has passed and I am blessed to say that Stephanie and I are well and enjoying my retirement, our children and grandchildren! Stephanie and I were delighted to host Thanksgiving and were joined by Melanie, Don, Audrey and Vincent from Portland Oregon; Freddie, Tracie, Kai and Hailie from Orlando as well as Aleron, Great Grandmother Violet, Uncle Ronnie and several of Aleron's friends.

This year has been full of travels, golf, reading and writing, help the Association of Black Cardiologists with our annual banquet, and to work with the People’s National Party (PNP) contributing what I can to develop a New Vision for a New World Reality for Jamaica. I am putting the final touches on my first novel, “The Bad Boy From Country” which conveys a lot of my recollections and life lessons. My bIog, www.jamaicachapter.blogspot.com continues to be a source of sharing my thoughts, I have now read “The Complete Works of Mark Twain” (100,000 Kindle pages). In addition to being a life member of Alpha Phi Alpha, I became a Master Mason and enjoy unraveling the mysteries.

Stephanie continues to grow her consulting business as well as her skills as a practicing pediatrician. 2012 will be the year we will start her private practice. She plans to invest 5 years helping sick children get better. She delights in all her grandchildren and is still able to travel to Jamaica with me. She continues to chronicle her spiritual journey at her blog www.sojournspirit.blogspot.com and my love and appreciation grows for her daily. We are enjoying this time of our lives very much and I thank God that we delight in each other’s presence. As long as we have our Kindles, we are good to go!

Jill has a thriving immigration practice in Phoenix and she and Brian continue to stimulate the lives of her two gifted children. Mackenzie has enrolled in a Science High School and has found her niche. She rubs elbows with children that have curious minds on a daily basis and has a cadre of friends with similar interests. She adopted a vegetarian lifestyle and found her voice for social causes and Amnesty International. She has committed herself to learn every word in the English language. Her brother Brooks continues to excel as a Little Leaguer and has taken up Taekwondo. He has earned his green belt. Both Mackenzie and Brooks spent some time with us this summer in Orlando and Atlanta. Brian is very involved in the lives of his children and can be found on Saturdays carting Brooks to games, Mackenzie to violin practice and joining Mackenzie during her protests. To our amazement, both Kenz and Brooks were able to swim 60 laps in an Olympic size pool without stopping.

We thought 2011 would be the year Freddy and his family relocated to Atlanta but as fate would have it the company gave him a promotion and he was able to stay in Orlando which as it turns out in this down economy was a blessing as it would have been a challenge to sell their home. Stephanie and I were so looking forward to having a set of our grandchildren nearby! Kai is a blossoming three year old and continues to delight both Stephanie and I. He is a very loving grandson, son and big brother to Hailie. Hailie is a little Stephanie; a whirlwind of energy that can light up a room with her smile. She has two speeds, fast and faster and has already declared her love of dolls and frilly dresses. Tracy continues to be Freddie’s anchor as she juggles a career and two active children. They are in a good place in their lives.

Melanie has 16 employees and is a Small Business owner! Her business “Play Connections” has taken off and she has tripled the number of children benefitting from the services she offers. There is a waiting list of parents who want their children to receive the personal care that her company provides to children with Autism Spectrum disorders; check out her web-site www.playconnections.com. Audrey has blossomed into a beautiful young lady and on a recent trip to Atlanta went shopping with Nana which delighted Stephanie to no end. As it turns out Melanie and Don have a fashionista on their hands. Vincent is five and is very BIG on negotiating everything. He is a bundle of joy with thick brown wavy hair and OPINIONS. The Great Northwest has been very good to them!

Aleron is a 2nd year Internal Medicine resident at Grady Memorial Hospital which keeps him busy and sleep deprived. He continues to build his life as a physician and has settled into his chosen field. He has a VERY active social life and Stephanie and I continue to be amazed at how this young man has matured and found his calling. We are truly blessed.

My mother Violet will be 90 next year and still lives in her own home and delights in being able to manage her own affairs. Although she suffered some strokes in 2019 and 2010, she is fully recovered and get around on her walker. Stephanie and I are able to have Sunday dinners with her and I am able to regularly get spoiled by her lunches and jokes.

Although we didn’t usher in any grandbabies, weddings or graduations this year it was still very FULL as we are continually blessed to have our health, celebrate the health of our children and grandchildren and to have you as friends and family. Best wishes for a wonderful new year.

The Inauguration of Portia Simpson Miller

2012-01-16T17:42:00.000-08:00

Prime Minister of Jamaica
Basil Waine Kong, Ph.D., JD

On January 5, 2012, I was on hand and beaming with unbridled pride as, The Right Honorable Portia Simpson Miller, took the oath of office as the Seventh Prime Minister of Jamaica pledging sovereignty, economic prosperity and social transformation. I believe more than ever that Portia Simpson Miller represents the truth and the way forward.

It was a momentous moment and a dramatic day. Pride mixed with high expectancy was in the air as the 10,000 people filed into the grounds of Kings House, as well as millions more around the globe who watched on line and applauded enthusiastically as PM repeatedly struck the right notes such as when Mr. Andrew Holness was introduced as the “Leader of the Opposition”.

I am sitting about 20 rows from the platform thinking and marveling: “What’s the difference between a small farmer and a doctor?” What is the difference between one woman from Wood Hall, Trelawney living on modest means, and the Prime Minister of Jamaica? Ladies and Gentlemen, the answer? One generation. I am glad that I live in a country where the Portia Simpson Miller story is not even unusual. No matter how difficult the circumstances, we rise. We rise because the prevailing value in Jamaica is that our children should exceed their parent's achievements. When I was thirteen years old, if you had placed both my mother and father in a police lineup, I could not have recognized either one of them . And yet, this little bare foot boy from country (Woodlands, St. Elizabeth) became a lawyer and traveled to 100 countries AND more importantly produced four children who are all more successful. It was worth pondering.

Three years ago, I sent the following letter that was published in the Gleaner (October 17, 2009) that proved to be prophetic.
___________________
Why I Support Portia Simpson Miller
Basil Waine Kong, Ph.D., JD

I believe that People’s National Party President, Portia Simpson-Miller, is a rare gift to Jamaica and to humanity. She is charismatic, astute, a visionary who cares deeply about the people and the future of Jamaica. She is an unselfish leader who never places personal ambitions ahead of her public duty.

This talented and gifted leader is restrained from letting her light shine because of bad-minded and prejudiced people who oppose her because she is a strong woman in a chauvinistic society. She is also held up to ridicule by uptown people because she is one of the few politicians who consistently advocate for the poor and down trodden. She persists in proposing changes that would “lift all boats” and the defenders of the status quo just as consistently attack her for her advocacy. According to Marcus Garvey: "If one wants to do good for the masses of Jamaica, 'Big Brains' will plot, conspire, and do everything to destroy you and your name." It is a callous and a sad commentary on those who say: "Portia loves poor people so much, she wants to make everybody poor."

According to Party Leader: “Many of the rich and powerful in Jamaica have never heard of Psalm 41:1 (Blessed is he that considereth the poor), the Sermon on the Mount or the story of the Good Samaritan.” She envisions a kinder, gentler nation recognizing that we are all in the same boat. "How we treat the least of us, the poor, the old and the infirmed is a reflection of our moral conscience. This generation, must be mindful of our place in history." She quoted Nelson Mandela as having said: "The generosity of the human spirit can overcome all adversity. Through compassion and caring, we can create hope."

"Our country will be judged by how we treated people in need and what we did to educate, house, feed, clothe and provide economic opportunity, prosperity and security for ALL Jamaicans." All she strives to do is provide a gateway for ALL Jamaicans, meet our citizens where they are (not where we would like them to be), equip them to be better participants in society, and empower them to build a good life for themselves, their families, and their communities.

In contrast, she said: "The Jamaica Labour Party is only invested in complaining that their fellow citizens aren’t further along, setting them up to fail, and drawing the walls and fences higher around themselves. Their agenda for Jamaica is for the rich get richer and the poor get poorer."

It was been a great privilege for my wife and me to sit down with Party Leader and hear at length what she is about. I hope it does not surprise people to know that our Party Leader has a substantial knowledge of a wide range of subjects but also very humble and engaging. She can walk and talk comfortably with Queens, Kings, Presidents, Prime Ministers and Ministers of the cloth as well as the good citizens of Jamaica. Sister P cares.

I asked her the question that is on the minds of many:”Is Sister P ready to run the country? Can you take us forward?” She said with confidence, "I do not shrink from this responsibility, I welcome it. I have assembled the most marvelous talent that will help me to move this ship forward. But while I have great faith and trust in my advisors, my imprimatur is to do what justice, humanity, and reason tell me I must do. The People of Jamaica are my masters. My contract is between those who came before us, those who are living and those yet to be born. I do not want to make slaves of future generations by burdening them with debt on funds that were not used to create economically viable assets. I recognize that we cannot strengthen the weak by weakening the strong, increase wages by ruining those who pay the wages or help the poor by destroying the rich. We also destroy character by doing things for people that they should be doing for themselves."

"Maybe the greatest difference between the JLP and the PNP is that we believe in preventing crises and the JLP believing in trying to deal with disasters after the fact. The truth is that we can do a great deal more to prevent unemployment by preparing our citizens for productive work on the one hand and expanding business on the other. We can significantly reduce how much we spend on health care by promoting healthier lifestyles and we can accelerate our use of alternative energy like the sun, the ocean and the wind on the one hand and more fuel efficient automobiles on the other. Preventing crime and violence is certainly more effective than crating environments that promote criminal behavior, arresting, and then having to feed, clothe and otherwise provide for their needs at great public expense.”

When we parted, my wife and I each got one of her famous hugs that also told us about her kindness. I am now among her strongest supporters, and was pleased to be formally introduced in her speech to the delegates at the PNP Annual Conference in October, 2009. The more I get to know her, the more convinced I am that Jamaica would be in great hands under her leadership and what Jamaica needs right now is to change the party in power.
________________________

A cross section of Jamaican society (the people who elected her, members of parliament from both parties, the judiciary, religious leaders, foreign high commissioners and other diplomats, etc., etc., etc.,) were present when she came up from the shadows, up the stairs into the light to further fire up the crowd with a marvelous message of hope for our troubled economy that is plagued by a high rate of poverty, illiteracy, crime, homelessness and increasing foreign debt.

The set up for her speech was The Most Honourable Sir Patrick Allen’s challenge to the country to support the new government now that the people have spoken. He also quoted a Chinese Philosopher who professed that when a great leader retires and hang up his/her spurs, the people will proclaim that, “WE” did it. This is at the core of what our Prime Minister believes. Her practice is to consult and obtain consensus before embarking on new ventures.

It was a magnificent speech. She said she came through the fire and is now a much better person and a much more patient and thoughtful leader for having endured the slings, arrows and everything else that was thrown at her in an attempt to defeat her spirit. It only made the victory that much sweeter and her resolve to advance “Brand Jamaica” as a good place to do business, visit, raise healthy families and where individuals can be all they want to be.

We can and must do better to be civil and uplifting of each other. She is committed to restore the breach in the eyes of the world. This will be achieved by eliminating corruption, increasing transparency and establishing meaningful partnerships with the people. With all hands on deck, focused and determined, we will rise and we will shine. Importantly, to great applause, she pointed out that the time has come for Jamaica to be established as a true republic without supervision from Britannia.

We owe a gold star to whoever arranged for the entertainment. If you think Jamaica’s talent is deep in sprint races, I hope you saw it all. Our talent is even deeper in entertainment. In every instance, I clamored for more. The Glenmuir Choir was great, The Tivoli Dance Troupe was wonderful, Shaggy was bombastic, and the Jamaica Regiment Band was absolutely professional, especially when they accompanied Shaggy when he sang: “Strength of a Woman” pointing directly at our Prime Minister who thoroughly enjoyed the moment. My favorite, however, was the Mona Preparatory School Speech Choir. The Speech Ensemble recited Marcus Garvey’s speech: “No Master But God” in grand style. How do I get to see them perform in a full concert? They looked good, moved good, spoke good and walked good. These boosey boys so reminded me of me when I performed in a similar choir at Springfield All Age School in St. Elizabeth in 1958 under the direction of Ms. Mavis Smith!

The after inaugural reception at the Wyndham Hotel capped off a perfect day, toasting, meeting new friends, reconnecting with the old and making plans with the current. While I was disappointed with the sound system that only half the audience could hear, our Prime Minister graciously accepted the congratulatory comments heaped on her, made informal remarks and I enjoyed one of her famous hugs. It was everyone’s consensus that “The Right Honourable Portia Simpson Miller”, Prime Minister of Jamaica, is an easy person to support! She is now a highly respected Woman for all seasons.

While my MP is Julian Robinson, On Friday evening, I had occasion to attend one of Andre Hylton’s victory celebrations and was most impressed with his people skills. He is well known for his passion for cars and voluntarism driven by his passion to serve. His philosophy is to do as much good as he can to serve the people. This will be a hard working member of parliament. It was very enlightening for me to engage his supporters in a wide range of topics relating to improving the lives of Jamaican citizens.

I am proud to be asked serve the administration as a member of the Prime Minister's “Think Tank” to analyze problems and plan future developments. While the Planning Institute of Jamaica is already charged and committed to leading the process of policy formulation on economic and social issues and external co-operation management to achieve sustainable development, in our two hour meeting with her at Jamaica House on Thursday (January 12), she charged us to develop innovative ideas and review contemplated initiatives (JEEP) for their impact on all the segments of our society. Our group of 12 (disciples) is phenomenally enlightened and accomplished individuals, who, I believe, are up to the task.

As for my personal priority, ever since I read Professor Don Robotham’s dire warnings of the dangers of frustrating the talents and ambitions of our youth that I would even go so far to characterize this as country suicide. Other than the urgency of fixing the economy, we must move quickly to set our youth on a course of achievement and prosperity.

According to the Professor Robotham, the more than 670,000 persons in the 20-29 age group, about 400,000 are either unemployed or not in the labour force. Nearly 60 per cent is jobless. But worse, more than 80 per cent of the unemployed 19-29-year-olds have stopped looking for work. Add to this dismal picture the fact that nearly 90 per cent, or more than 220,000, in the 15-19 age group are neither in school, nor have jobs. This is a crisis of great proportion.

May God Bless our Prime Minister and May God Bless Jamaica. Mi joyous!

The Poor Does Not Have to be With Us Always

2012-01-02T20:15:00.000-08:00

Can We End Poverty in Jamaica?
Basil Waine Kong

I was amused to learn recently that the winners of the US$250,000,000 Powerball lottery were three millionaires (asset managers) in Connecticut. It started me thinking about how and why the rich get richer and the poor get poorer. I am also thinking of the gentleman who prayed fervently but futilely every day for God to bless him so he could win the lottery. Finally God had to speak directly to the gentleman: “If I am going to help you win the lottery you should at least buy a ticket. I can only help those who help themselves.”

A year ago, a country gentleman told me that his father advised him that going to school was a waste of time and that as long as he could dig a yam hill he would be fine. So, for fifty years, he has been cutting cane and planting his ground on an acre of land he rents---never expecting to own his own land. Not even in his dreams could he see himself owning adequate tools of his trade, a house, a tractor or even a bicycle. I now learn that illiterate persons will no longer be allowed to participate in the Government's overseas farm work program. According to Minister of Labour, Derrick Kellier, persons applying to pick fruit and plant beans in Canada must know how to read, write and do arithmetic. What is the future of the twenty percent of Jamaican citizens who cannot read or write? Do we just blame the victim and move on?

My fervent prayer is for the poor to get richer. But my wise friend and golfing buddy insist the rich have all the luck. I tell him that that the harder I practice and work at my game, the luckier I get. While it is a common occurrence for rich children to turn out to be worthless bums and a few children from poor families become accomplished heroes and stars. In the absence of people with extraordinary talent and discipline, as a rule it doesn’t happen often. Babies of the rich are fed delicious and nutritious meals with silver spoons, exposed to the movers and shakers of society as they grow up, go to the best schools, have access to effective healthcare, get tutors to help them learn how to handle their knife and folk, play a musical instrument and to excel in sports, travel, learn to speak eloquently, dress to impress, have their choice of employment from their extensive network of family connections and then they win the lottery. On the other hand, the poor child face daily struggles to get a plate of food each day in single parent households, crime, may or may not go to school, survive by catering to the rich, sleep on the hand ground with a rock stone for their pillow, hustle to make a living and die ten years before his rich counterpart only because he was born at the wrong address.

Will the poor always be with us? Several countries including several the size of Jamaica (Singapore, Botswana, Bermuda, Kuwait, and Oman) have now wiped out poverty. That’s right---no poor people. Everyone has a floor they can comfortably live with. What do these countries have in common?

Two Harvard professors (Acemoglu and Robinson) did an analysis of two cities and wrote:
“In Nogales, a city cut in half by the Mexican-American border fence. There is no difference in geography between the two halves of Nogales. The weather is the same. The winds are the same, as are the soils. The types of diseases prevalent in the area given its geography and climate are the same, as is the ethnic, cultural, and linguistic background of the residents. By logic, both sides of the city should be identical economically.

And yet they are far from the same.

On one side of the border fence, in Santa Cruz County, Arizona, the median household income is $30,000. A few feet away, it's $10,000. On one side, most of the teenagers are in public high school, and the majority of the adults are high school graduates. On the other side, few of the residents have gone to high school, let alone college. Those in Arizona enjoy relatively good health and Medicare for those over sixty-five, not to mention an efficient road network, electricity, telephone service, and a dependable sewage and public-health system. None of those things are a given across the border. There, the roads are bad, the infant-mortality rate high, electricity and phone service expensive and spotty.”

The key difference is that those on the north side of the border enjoy law and order and dependable government services — they can go about their daily activities and jobs without fear for their life or safety or property rights. On the other side, the inhabitants have institutions that perpetuate crime, graft, and insecurity.”

Jamaica has fourth-highest poverty rate at 43.1 per cent compared with our 23 regional neighbours and according to the IMF over one million Jamaicans live on less than US$2.50 per day. Is it possible for our politicians to accept the fact that what we have been doing is not working and our government and bureaucracy is causing poverty? Can we join together and establish a national mandate to reverse it?

Christmas in Woodlands District in the Fifties

2011-12-06T08:55:00.000-08:00

(It was Really sinting!)
Basil Waine Kong

Growing up in St. Elizabeth is fraught with wonderful memories, especially of Christmas. As I look back, I see manicured lawns,(freshly chopped with a sharp machete or a donkey, horse or even goats). Any of these animals can eat down the grass. I remember gleaming white washed stones about six feet apart lining the walkways right up to the house steps and white washed trunks of trees in the yard. Christmas also coincides with the advent of winter when there is a precipitious drop in daily temperatures from the eighties to the seventies. We call it "Christmas Breeze", which is one step above "Cool Breeze"!

I have traveled the world and no where can make you feel more welcome as rural St. Elizabeth. There is no greetings, huggs and smiles more sublime. I imagine Jamaicans living foreign flock home for Christmas just for that feeling of welcome, familiarity and belongingness from “femi people”. It's nice that these “Been-to” people bring money, presents, music, movies and food to show off what a success they have made of themselves! We can be a loving, jocular, generous but slightly contentious people.

The children were always on stage when I was a child. Not only did we perform regularly in school and church plays under thatched roofs and in our homes, we were always being coached in poetry, singing and dancing by Ms. Mavis Smith for “Festival” that was held in Santa Cruz each year. Whenever relatives and friends visited, we were asked to recite poems, tell a joke, spell words, sing or dance. One of the important jobs that adults joyfully accepted was to encourage and big up the yuths with a heap of praise. Those of us who grew up in the country have great egos because we didn’t know we were poor or we even thought we were bulby (bright). Children were front and center of the community. The adults regularly beat the hell out of us to keep us in line but we felt loved nevertheless. I started working in Mass Claudie’s shop at about ten years old and at our Saturday night dances, the older people enjoyed putting me up on the counter to dance and then give me money. The popular dances back then were: “Back to back, belly to belly”, “Banana, banana, banana” and "Ramadin and Valentine".

Many unfamiliar foods and dry goods came to us by way of vans and visiting relatives and friends. We are a mountain community but we were able to enjoy lobsters, fish and even clams brought to us by vans. We got bread, buns and bullahs from Harry Chen See’s bread truck. When you bought a whole loaf of unsliced hard dough bread, we got a brata of two bullahs. We would watch out for the passing of the truck, run to the roadside to hale the driver, bought the bread (unwrapped) and put it into the bread basket that hung by a hook close to the ceiling. Our usual breakfast was a “hunk of bread with butter”, a boiled egg and hot fresh cow’s milk. I liked my bread with sweet condensed milk! We ate whatever fruits were in season throughout the day from anyone's property. Children had a free run of the place with no concern about property lines.

I am not sure that this is true for all families in Jamaica but for our family, we took food to everyone we visited and also brought food back home from whatever was left over especially at Christmas, funerals and weddings. In other words, we are always bringing and taking food. We don't like anyone to be hungry. If someone is going to America, a roast breadfruit, ache, corn pone and gizadas were in tow. When they returned, packed away in their luggage were hams, canned pears and peaches packed in syrup.

In the weeks leading up to Christmas, every household prepared sorrel with and without rum but with lots of ginger. I loved the beautiful red colour and tart taste. A roast (beef) and fruitcake would also be prepared to serve to all who visited. Aunt Myra’s roast was the best! The fruits (raisins, currants, plums) for the Christmas fruit cake would be soaked in rum and port wine for several months before baking day. I usually couldn’t wait for the cake so I would eat the batter while I helped to rub the ingredients together. Those who really wanted to show off would also have a Christmas ham from 'merica that was sliced as thin as a razor blade and treated like gold. The ham bone was used later for soup. If you greet someone with "Happy Christmas" or "Merry Christmas" before Christmas day, the receiver of the greeting predictably add: "When it comes".

On Christmas Day, we woke up as soon as the first cock crowed. We got dressed and greeted each other with “Happy Christmas” and a smile. While we did not send Christmas cards or exchange presents, on Christmas mornings, the first thing we looked forward to was Granny's egg punch. She put on the milk to scold (heat up), break a dozen eggs and carefully separated the red (yolk) from the white. She handed the bowl with the yolk and brown sugar to Uncle Elton to grind and the whites with a few drops of water to Uncle Ronnie to whip with a fork. When the yolk was nice and creamy and the white was nice and fluffy, she combined them, added hot milk, a Guinness stout and a Red Stripe Beer, nutmeg, vanilla extract, mixed it all up and served it for breakfast. wow! But you must remember to take out the eye (germinal cell) or the punch will taste "raw". After breakfast, we blew off steam by blowing up fire crackers that was answered by the other people in the community. I prided myself on being able to hold the fire crackers in my fingers without getting hurt. Other boys were not so lucky and lost fingers.

Some of the people from Springfield Church walked to the houses of those who were sick and shut in to sing Christmas Carols with them. While the equivalent of Santa Claus is "Father Christmas" in Jamaica, he existed as a concept and I never had the experience of being handed a gift by the old man.

Busha Price (Granny's friend) would be at our house by 8:00 am all dressed up with suit, tie, handkerchief in his breast pocket, felt hat, black and white shoes, his walking stick tipped with brass and always had some small change, maybe a sixpence for the children. After drinking some of Granny's egg punch, he would say: "Ms. Rosie, it mak mi cranium crawl" which I interpreted to be a good thing. We asked if he wasn't going to wipe the egg punch from his fluffy mouth stash. He delighted in telling us that that is his way to save some for later.

After breakfast, Granny would give us our Christmas money and we headed out to the community picnic at Shield’s Pon where vendors sold ice cream and fresco, grater cake, pound cake, jerk pork, fried fish, cane juice, peppermint sticks, and all the treats of Christmas. It was a show when the old soldiers would march with wooden rifles. Herbie Arnold’s rumba band would play all day. I loved the colourful Maypole and the Merry-go-round. Two strong men could turn four swingers. While we never had an elaborate “Jankonoo”, someone would put on a horse head mask and dance around on stilts. The next week, all the Pickney dem built stilts and try to dance around on them like the Jankonoo man.

It was a day when everyone shared what they had and indulged: “Eat, drink and be merry” were the orders of the day. The women and children mostly drank the sorrel and ginger beer, but all the men got drunk and everybody danced. The rule was that all the men had to dance with all the women regardless of age or relationship, so the old people and the smallest pickney would get into the act as well. But mostly, the old people would sit against the wall and watch the young people wind up dem waist. Everyone was in a festive mood and buying waters (rum) and Red Stripe Beer for each other.

While no one ever dressed up like “Father Christmas”, all the children received balloons, fifi that curled up like a snake and other noise makers that amused us for several days. And we didn’t have Christmas trees either; but our houses were decorated with poinsettias that grew wild in our community.

Every Jack man shaved holding a two edge razor blade very gingerly, got their hair cut, their pants creased and their shoes shined. The ladies got their hair done, dressed up in fancy crinoline dresses and were awash with kuss kuss perfume. The girls put coconut oil on their legs and they looked amazing!

The Sunday closest to Christmas, we not only read the wonderful Christmas story but sang all the Christmas Carols at Springfield Moravian Church. As service lasted more than two hours, there was no hurry. My favorite Christmas Carol was “I saw three ships come sailing in” by Ms. Maude. We were also treated to a Christmas play on Sunday night directed by Mrs. Joyce Chang in which I always participated. For atmosphere, we put candles in oranges and lit up the place. The boys also burned each other with the wax. I am surprised that the church never caught fire except that the Grannies were never far away to keep control.

Our festivities did not end with Christmas day as we had a cricket match as well as a horse race with lots of betting on “Boxing Day”(day after Christmas).
Christmas comes but once a year and when it comes, it brings good cheer! Happy Christmas to all! (When it comes)

Note. After all the young people migrated to England in the late fifties and early sixties, there was no more festivities and no more joy in our district! Our community became a community of Grannies raising grand children.
_________________

Dr. Kong! Fabulous article!! I shall forward to friends!
Happy Holidays!
xox
Debra Ehrhardt
_____________

Hi Waine:
I loved this story on the Jamaican Christmas. I know it's your story, but it reads like a story right out of an anthology of Christmas stories by well known authors. Yours is more intriguing and detailed. Many of your descriptions are similar to our experiences. It is so sad that many children today will never experience these simple but oh so memorable joys of Christmas. I do hope that you and Stephanie will have a wonderful, blessed holiday. I hope we can get together at some point over the holidays. Love to you both.
Janet and Julius
_________________
Waine, thanks for sharing this. Sounds like we had similar childhoods across the "Pond".

Tom Vaughn
____________________

Beautifully remembered and written. I'm glad I waited until now to read it instead of rushing through it earlier. I enjoyed it.

Kim R LaRue, RN
_____________________

The Movie: "Anonymous" is not worth seeing

2011-11-29T08:32:00.000-08:00

Shakespeare Anonymous?
Basil Waine Kong

After paying good money and spending valuable time that could have been profitably spent doing something else, my wife and I regretfully saw the movie “Anonymous” based on J. Thomas Looney’s book: “Shakespeare Identified”. He was joined in these beliefs by Sherwood Silliman and George Batty---quiet a credible crowd!

Here is my recommendation: do not waste your time or your money. It is not even as good as the PBS Special (1996) that made similar claims. In fact, thousands of books and more coming suggest that not only were Shakespeare’s parents illiterate and signed their name with an "X" but the boy Shakespeare had minimal education and exposure to the world. Some say he never owned or read a book. So where and how did he gain the experience and culture to have written so knowledgeably and eloquently about the affairs of Kings, the military, geography, law, the sea, and especially the human heart?

This film is boring rubbish based on claims that Shakespeare was not wise enough, educated enough, worldly enough or sophisticated enough to have written the plays, sonnets and poetry to be regarded as the “ultimate expression of the English language” as well as "the greatest literature ever produced in English>" So based only on made up stuff (circumstantial evidence), the movie supposes that Edward de Vere, Seventh Earl of Oxford and the Queen’s consort, must have been the writer. In fact, the movie did not stop at claiming that de Vere was the ghost writer for Shakespeare, it depicted Shakespeare as an ignorant, illiterate blackmailer with no redeeming social value. The movie claims that Shakespeare could not even “form his letters.”

So, how is it that none of his contemporaries raised the question? For that matter, no questions were raised for two hundred years after his death claiming that THE Shakespeare did not write Shakespeare. This question became popular in just the last hundred years. I, for one, love the man and honour him for his amazing gifts to mankind like Bill Bryson wrote: "Only one man had the circumstances and gifts to give us such incomparable works, and William Shakespeare of Stratford was unquestionably that man---whoever he was".

I have a theory. I visited several of the Mayan Temples and Pyramids in Mexico ten years ago and took great interest in the pyramids of Chichen Itza. These magnificent structures spoke loudly about the sophistication of the Mayan people of old, the inventor of astrology and the Mayan Calendar. So what did Europeans devise as the explanation? Non-white people could not possibly have done this. Space travelers from other planets must have lived among them, designed and built these edifices. The rule is: If one’s achievements are remarkable, they didn’t do it and they will make up some preposterous explanations to explain it---most notably, foreign or inter-planetary influence.

Tell that to Usain Bolt! How does little Jamaica, produce the fastest runners (both men and women) that world has ever known? Get ready for preposterous theories: we must have made a deal with the devil, we eat some special diet, Obeah, Usain is out of this world, or take performance enhancements---anything but nurtured talent! Ordinary people do extraordinary things all the time. What’s the difference between a small farmer in St. Elizabeth who never went to school and a doctor? Often, just one generation. It is not unique for modestly acculturated or even deprived children to excell. Jamaicans know this story better than anywhere else. "We little or may have very little but we talawah!"

My granddaughter (Mackenzie) was studying Shakespeare in school and in order to have meaningful and interesting things to talk about with her, I studied along and even made up the following Quiz. If you wish to take the "teaching test" and e-mail me your answers (bwaine@bellsouth.net), I will be happy to score it for you. My very bright grand-daughter as well as her younger brother (Brooks) both made the grade!

Quiz on Shakespeare: His Life and Times

1.It is said that “No human being has received more attention or yielded more uncertainty” than Mr. William Shakespeare (S). He is at once best known and least known of historical figures. We are, however, certain about:
a. What he looked like
b. The spelling of his name
c. His education and how he got to be so smart
d. None of the above

2. S was born in England during a plague epidemic, on April 23, 1530 in:
a. Stratford
b. Snitterfield
c. Springfield
d. Southwark

3. At a time when the life expectancy was 35, S was baptized on April 26 and died at age 52 in 1582 on:
a. July 18
b. April 3
c. July 12
d. April 23

4. When S was born, in the City where his parents lived, they observed which calendar?
a. Gregorian
b. Old Julian
c. Chinese
d. The calendar was not yet invented

5. At 18 years old, S married a woman 8 years his senior. The age of consent to be married was twelve years for girls and fourteen for boys. The spelling of his name on his birth certificate is: Shagspere. Before her marriage, her name was:
a. Anne Hathaway, who was said to be: “sweet as May and shy as a fawn.”
b. Anne Whateley of Temple Grafton
c. Melanie Rochelle of Columbia
d. Mackenzie Kong-Sivert of Phoenix

6. Queen Elizabeth I, who defeated the Spanish Armada, the monarch during most of S lifetime followed by James, never married or had children, ruled England for how many years?
a. 10
b. 20
c. 30
d. 45 years

7. “A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” Why was beef, veal, chicken classified as fish during S lifetime?
a. The catholic church required that converts only eat fish on Fridays
b. All meat taste like chicken
c. “Fish” was a shorthand word for meat
d. Because refrigeration was not available, all meat smelled like fish

8. During S lifetime, if you invited friends to spend the night at your house without a permit from local bailiff, you could be:
a. Fined
b. Stoned
c. Put in jail
d. Insulted

9. A line from “As You Like It” describe a school boy who reluctantly went to school because:
a. The buildings were not heated including sleeping quarters
b. The food was meager
c. The whippings frequent
d. All of the above

10. Children during S lifetime mostly studied
a. Farming
b. Latin
c. Law
d. Religion

11. S attended school until fifteen years old. He had to learn:
a. Metaphor and anaphora
b. Epistrophe and hyperbole
c. Synecdoche and epanalepsis
d. All of the above

12. How many children did S father?
a. One
b. Two
c. Three
d. Four

13. The printing press is thought to be the most influential event in the fifteenth century revolutionizing the way people conceive and describe the world they live in. Printed books (including our Bible---King James Version) became available to a wide audience. Who invented the printing press?
a. The Roman Empire
b. German Johannes Gutenberg around 1440
c. The Chinese under the Ming Dynasty
d. East Indians when they published the Bhagavad Gītā, "Song of The Blessed Lord"), (a sacred Hindu scripture)

14. Bathrooms were not yet available so even the rich relieved themselves wherever they could, including in corners of churches. Some people made a living by carrying containers for urine. Toilet is also called:
a. A washroom in Canada
b. A “Head” on boats
c. A “rest room” or “powder room” in the United States
d. All of the above

15. The clothing style during 16th century (imported from France) was to wear starched clothes. Where did the cassava starch come from?
a. Jamaica
b. India
c. China
d. Brazil

16. Piccadilly was so named for people who enjoyed parading in the square in their “ruffs” (pica dills). Why did they have to stay out of the rain?
a. The dyes in their clothes would wash out as dyes were not yet color-fast.
b. The starch would make their clothes limp
c. They believe they would catch their death of cold
d. All of the above

17. What is “Gresham’s law”, named for the gentleman who built the first shopping center in 1570 so 4,000 merchants could do their business out of the rain.
a. bad money drives out good
b. criminals can take over a community if good people are not vigilant
c. a shopping mall could be used as a “tax shelter”
d. all of the above

18. The style of the times was to have black teeth. The rich had black teeth because they could afford to eat a lot of sugar from Jamaica. So, those who could not afford sugar blackened their teeth artificially. What other silly things do we sometimes believe in the Jamaica even today?
a. Taking medication to lengthen eyelashes when the side effect could be blindness
b. Injecting botox (a toxin) to reduce wrinkles
c. Bleaching our skin will make us more attractive
d. All of the above

19. The association between pale white skin as the standard of beauty (supreme loveliness) and black skin with evil emerged out of this period. So, all kinds of skin bleaching were applied including borax, sulphur and lead. Today, the whitening cream industry is estimated to be worth around $432 million in India and $7 billion in China In Japan, Gaishas:
a. Paint their skins black
b. Paint their skins white
c. Bleach their skins with papaya
d. All of the above

20. Tobacco was first introduced in England about when S was born. Even children were encouraged to smoke as it was touted as a cure for:
a. Venereal disease
b. Migraine
c. Eprophylactic against the plague
d. All of the above

21. What was a common medical procedure during S lifetime that was just outlawed in the USA just before WWII?
a. Blood letting
b. Massaging
c. Laying on of hands
d. Lobotomies

22. The ocean was a common theme in his plays as a place of storms and shipwrecks: “Take arms against a sea of troubles.” “An ocean of salt tears.” “Wild sea of my conscience.” How long did S spend at sea?
a. No time
b. One year
c. Two years
d. Three years

23. The Theater where S plays were performed was owned by Shakespeare, Heminges, Augustine Phillips, Thomas Pope and Will Kemp, all actors otherwise known as “Lord Chamberlain’s Men”. It was built in 1599 and burned down in 1613, three years before S died. What is the name of the Theatre?
a. The Julius
b. The Fox
c. The Globe
d. The Regal Elizabethan

24. Animal baiting was a popular source of entertainment during S’s time. What was it?
a. A bear, bull or horse was tethered to a peg in a ring (sometimes with a monkey on its back) and mastiffs (dogs) were encouraged to rip the animal apart.
b. Bullfighting
c. Dog fighting
d. Cock fighting

25. Cleopatra, Lady Macbeth, Ophelia, Juliet and Desdemona had what in common?
a. Their roles were all played by men
b. They were all Queens
c. They were all married
d. All of the above

26. In addition to being a playwright, S was also:
a. An actor
b. Stage manager
c. Costume designer
d. Popular singer

27. S lifetime was a period of great suffering. In London, at least ten thousand people died in a single year from the plague. Those who could afford to established residences elsewhere left London. What S did is not known but all the doctors:
a. Stayed in London to help take care of the sick and dyeing
b. Left London with the other well-to-dos and left the care of the sick to Apothecaries
c. Left the country altogether
d. None of the above

28. S deduced that the Earth moved around the sun before:
a. Astronomers
b. Religious leaders
c. Politicians
d. Teachers

29. S was not good at Geography (anatopisms). Which of the following did he get right?
a. He put a sail maker in Bergamo, a landlocked city in Italy (Taming of the Shrew)
b. Set sail from Milan and Verona when both cities are more than 100 miles from the Ocean (The Tempest and The Two Gentlemen of Verona)
c. Did not know that Venice had Canals
d. All of the above

30. S was often guilty of anachronisms in his plays. What did he get wrong
a. He had Egyptians playing billiard
b. Implied that Caesar had a clock fourteen hundred years before it was invented
c. Referred to Cato three hundred years before he was born
d. All of the above

31. “The most unkindest cut of all” is a/an:
a. often repeated quote from S
b. Double negative
c. Double superlative
d. All of the above

32. S name has been spelled 80 different ways. The proper spelling in the Oxford English Dictionary is:
a. Shakspere
b. Shakespeare
c. Shappere
d. Shaxberd

33. S introduced 2,035 new words (neologisms) to the English language. Which one was not among them?
a. Critical
b. Horrid
c. lonely
d. computer

34. S is responsible for at least 10% of the quotations in our everyday speech. Which phrase did not originate with S?
a. For every truth you discover, the opposite is also true
b. One fell swoop
c. Vanish into thin air
d. Bag and baggage, play fast and loose, go down the primrose path, in a pickle, budge an inch, the milk of human kindness, more sinned against than sinning, remembrance of things past, cold comfort, more in sorrow than in anger, salad days, to thy own self be true, foul play, tower of strength, with bated breath, pomp and circumstance, forgone conclusion.

35. Stanley Wells observed that S was born in Latin but died in English. When Thomas Smith produced the first textbook on the English Language, he wrote it in which language?
a. Latin
b. English
c. German
d. French

36. Plays by S were originally performed at mid-day because:
a. In the Sixteenth Century, people worked from 6:00 am to 6:00 pm but had a four hour break during the mid-day
b. It was not safe to be out after dark
c. There was no artificial lighting available
d. All of the above

37. The S Library in Washington DC contain more than 350,000 books and is called:
a. The Folger Library
b. The National Archives
c. The Library of Congress
d. The Shakespeare Library

Note: By far, the best source of information as well as the most entertaining book on Shakespeare is:
“Shakespeare: The Illustrated and Updated Edition” by Bill Bryson (Atlas Books, 2007). I am a Bill Bryson fan. His research is flawless and his writing keeps a smile on my face. If you had to just read one of his fifteen books, please start with: “A Really Short History of Everything.”You will immediately become (not necessarily healthy or wealthy but definitely) wise.

Good Clean Family Fun in Orlando

2011-10-24T04:00:00.000-07:00

Basil Waine Kong

It is our oldest son’s 41st birthday, so Stephanie and I are in Orlando to help him celebrate. Freddie and his wife Tracy are proud parents of two cute and endearing children, Kai (3 years old) and Hailie (18 months). While Kai is active and strong willed, Hailie is as cute as a bug in a rug and in fact we call her Hailie bug. The best moments of our visits are the hugs, welcome to our home, good to see you moments when we first arrive.

While Tracy had to work, Freddie and I played golf at Eagle Creek on Friday afternoon while Stephanie Babysit---which she loves to do for her grand children. I had my usual three bad holes but played well otherwise. Freddie rolled in a 40 footer and chipped one in accompanied with the usual exclamations. We got back home, took our showers, dressed and made our way to his celebratory dinner at Bone Fish Grill, a seafood eatery in Orlando. Although the children were a little antsy, the food was wonderful, service superb and priced well for the quality! Our waiter, Mike, was the best. He should go into business training other waiters. My wife, a very exacting diner, was completely pleased with the attentive and professional service. That made the food taste even better.

The appetizers, bang bang shrimp, entamane (steamed soy beans) and calamari, were a little unusual but very tasty. For our entrées, my wife had the sea bass, pan Asian style with Jasmine rice, Tuna with a beacon jalapeño sauce for Freddie, Tracy had sea bass with mango sauce, and I had crab cakes. The little ones dined on Mac n Chez with steamed Broccoli and lead us in the singing of “Happy Birthday Dad”. We all shared the complimentary warm brownies and ice cream and were in complete agreement that that was a memorable meal.

In addition to the usual hugs and kisses, chasing the grand children, lovely family meals and conversations, swimming, shopping, spa treatments, walks in the park, playground swings and climbs on monkey bars, we spent Saturday at: “Scott’s Maze Adventures” www.cornmaze.com and a wonderful time was had by all--- good clean fun!

Scott’s is a large family owned farm in Zellwood, Florida (about an hour’s drive from Orlando) that is famous for its triple sweet corn. Yes, the corn is sweet and can be eaten raw. Each Fall (Autumn), they convert seven acres of their cornfield into a maze. While the corn maze is the main attraction, children have various “play” options including a spongy wind pillow the size of a tennis court that our grandchildren delighted in jumping, falling and romping around. Kai loved by far, the zip line! The kids sit in a harness and zip down an outstretched line. They can go on and on and our grandson Kai was delighted with each pass. It was wonderful to see the glee in his eyes!

For lunch we dined on fried clam strips and French fries, corn dogs, hamburgers and the usual refreshments. On a day like this, we ignore the usual dietary restrictions like when we go to a ballgame. What’s a baseball game without hot dogs?

After lunch, we go off to the mazes. As corn is called maize in many parts of the world, so, this is actually a maize maze. There are three mazes, the “mini”, the mist and mega maze with three maze quests to play: Kernel B. Cobb’s, Cornelious Quest Picture Find and Poppi’s Secret word Jumble. We didn’t run into any skeletons because they give you a flag on a long stick that you can wave and be rescued it you are hopelessly lost or have an emergency.

Labyrinths and mazes have been around since Ancient Egypt and Greece and is cornfigured as a puzzle with complex branching passages that walkers try to find a route to the exit through the designed twists and turns. In this case, walkers were asked to walk around corncentric circles and find designated stations where answers to paper and pencil puzzles about the environment and alternative energy could be obtained. They did their best to create “cornfusion” with the maze to get people lost but we were able to find the five stations and make our exit in about an hour.

We finally got to the hay ride with the accompanying lecture by our corncierges telling us about the farm’s efforts to make farming environmentally safe and productive. I did not know that each string that makes up the silk at the top of an ear of corn (the cornfer) is connected to each grain of corn.

On our way home, as the children were Cornfined to their seats, the corny jokes were non-stop.
Cornation: countries that grow corn as their principal crop
Corncentrate: thinking deeply about corn
Corncealment: sealing up leaks with glue made from corn
Corncede: what you plant to get an ear of corn
Cornceit: a chair made from corn
Corncerts: breath mints made from corn syrup
Cornscent: things that smell like corn
Cornception: becoming pregnant from eating too much corn for women who need to produce an heir of corn.
corncession: giving an ear of corn to settle a disagreement. And my favorite, if you don’t like them, you can corndemn to hell.

Anyway, the point of this blog is to suggest that this would be an easy thing to implement in Jamaica. How hard would it be to convert a sugarcane plantation into a maze with the accompanying rides, foods and kid friendly activities? Mazes are popular throughout the world. With all the undesirable or non-existent recreational options in Jamaica, how wonderful would it be to have a “Cane Maze?” It would be a terrific tourist attraction as well as a place every Jamaica family would want to visit. It would be lots of fun to “get lost” while raising cane.!

So Much To Do and So Little Time

2011-10-05T10:57:00.000-07:00

How much can you fit into a week-day in Jamaica?

Basil Waine Kong

It is Wednesday morning, I am missing my wife who is in Atlanta and I am wide awake at 6:00 am without an alarm clock as I am each day. I immediately call her to share well wishes and our plans. After a breakfast of callaloo and salt fish with fried dumplings, June plum juice and coffee, I go through my early morning routine to read both the Gleaner and the Observer on line, check my e-mails and I am off to the golf course for my 8:00 am Tee time. Today, I played with Peter Lindo, Steve Hill and Lindy Delapano. Steve and I beat them three up on the front and they came back to beat us on the back---good competition and camaraderie. It is an enjoyable round of golf with my Caddie “Garth” in tow and at least Peter buys us drinks with our money. I have ox tail with rice and peas and a salad for lunch, refresh myself in the beautiful pool at Caymanas Golf Club, shower, dress and I am off to the country.

As I drive towards Mandeville, I find myself replaying my round of golf. The great shots I hit, the birdie I made as well as the mental errors and some God awful shots.
You see, each round of golf at Caymanas is something to tell about and recall next hour, day, week , month and repeatedly throughout one’s lifetime. Having the game and courage to go for the green in two and eagling the par five number two is something to strive for, enjoy and relish for a lifetime. The finishing hole is long and a true test of golf with water on both sides of the fairway and big bunkers guarding the green. Peter was once up by three coming into the 18th hole and I worked my Obeah on him and predicted that he would make a seven. No one was more surprised than I when he in fact made seven which tied the match. Maybe I have supernatural powers after all---science man.

While driving through Santa Cruz, I spot three men playing dominoes and decide that they needed a fourth so I invited myself, bought a round of Red Stripe Beer and proceeded to give our opponents a six-love. Interestingly, the proprietor (Days) recognizes me as a school mate from Springfield All Age School. In fact, I learned that his sister, (Eileen Robinson) another school mate was admitted to Mandeville Hospital and getting preparing to have one of her legs amputated due to diabetic neuropathy. I promise to visit her the following day prior to her operation.

I continue on my journey with a stop at Lynn Salmon’s shop in Springfield to have drinks with old friends (including Joyce Henry) who just happened to be present and got answers to: What ever happened to …? and making a donation to one of her causes. I also decide to visit an old friend, Mr. Asley Black. As a boy, Asley was the older gentleman with whom I spent numerous hours discussing the great questions like the meaning of life, human nature and the value of organized religion. I worked as the shopkeeper at 12 years old and as he sipped on gin and salt, we would sit across the counter and had many pleasant conversations between having to sell sugar and whatever else customers wanted. Then there was a 50 year absence until I returned and found the same old Ashley, spry as ever. We have visited several times since then.

I park my car at the road and walk a quarter of a mile straight up the hill. I am out of breath but he enthusiastically hugged and welcomed me inquiring as to why I was winded. At 85 years old, he makes the walk to the road and back several times per day. But I now understand why he lives on this hill. He saw me looking across the wooded slopes and said: "I can get drunk with happiness just sitting on my veranda and gazing at this majestic beauty, especially this time of the day." I arrived just in time to see the multi-coloured glory of the setting sun reflecting on the Moravian Church with it's red roof and high steeple. I was at a loss as to where to turn my head to admire this endless hill and gully panorama clothed in woodland loveliness of banana, mango and neeseberry trees and sprouting cabbage, Irish potatoes, dashine and cassava. The landscape was beautiful but as I focused on the little houses with dinner fires sending smoke over the treetops, I could imagine how brutish their daily existence must be---kind of hell and heaven on the same canvas.

Ashley jovially invited me in for a drink and something to eat. He prepares a country dinner of dumplings, bananas, yam, with mackerel mixed with salt fish and it all tasted delicious. We talk about the old days and how men these days cannot afford to hang out at the rum shop anymore as liquor is too expensive and people don't have money.

After a pleasant visit, he walked me to the bottom of the hill to me car and said my good bye. As I drove away from his house, I passed women carrying heavy loads on their heads and men carrying crocus bags and hoes on their shoulders walking home from their fields wearing water boots.

I then make my way to Woodlands and stopped to have a drink with about ten people who welcome me and update me on who died, who had babies and who migrated. I finally made my way to the country home of Mr. and Mrs. Garnett Myrie. His brother Joshie (the caretaker of the property) welcome me and show me to my sleeping quarters. I am in bed by 9:00 pm and read my Kindle until I fall asleep to the barking of dogs, chirping of insects, toads and frogs. Otherwise, all was quiet on the western front.

I am awake at five in the morning and administer some eye drops to clear my eyes so I can continue to read my Kindle. I drink my usual early morning glass of water as tonic.

About six months ago, I bought "The Complete Mark Twain Collection". I am determined to complete it before my death but I have my doubts as it is 100,000 Kindle pages. I probably did not read this many pages in my entire college career. I am about half way through and it is well worth the investment. He is such an entertaining writer who has a very unique way to express himself. I cannot wait to consume the next page.

My wife does not agree that he a great writer and her assessment is that he is one of the worst racists that ever lived. I try to reason with her that we cannot judge a man that lived 100 years ago by modern standards. The racism is, however, glaring I admit, but his writing is still amazing. He was traveling in the Middle East and checking into a hotel. He wanted to make sure that he had enough light to read late into the night. They assured him that it was “no problem”. When he was shown to his room they lit a candle. He was visibly upset and asked if that was all the light they had, the gentleman’s said “Of course not. You can have two candles if you like.”

I have just finished “Joan of Arc” and believe it is his best piece. You have to remind yourself that the facts are true. No one is capable of believing that the Catholic Church and the English could be so evil and conniving. I am also reminded that as I lawyer, I am trained to take any set of facts and make anyone a saint or a sinner.

As the dawn breaks, I listen attentively for the familiar sounds of mornings in Woodlands, the braying of donkeys, the cows announcing where they are so all the little cow calves can find them, the roosters crowing, the birds chirping and the goats bleeping. By six AM, these sounds are all overwhelmed by the gospel music on the radio next door. I shower and dress including water boots and I am off to walk my property through the high grass and don’t want to harbor tics. I go by the grave yard to bring greetings and prayers to the dearly departed and to pour a little libation. In a few years, I plan to build a house on this property and I spend some time imagining grand children running around.

It is perfectly calm and the sun is brilliant. It is now 8:00 am and I make my way to Ms. Erma Cameron’s home for breakfast. She is also an early riser, so the coffee is ready. I so enjoy a good cup of coffee in the morning. Ackee and salt fish, friend dumplings and friend plantains are also on the menu. She also picked some grapefruit from her own tree and I enjoy that as well. We are joined by neighbours and we have a gay time eating, visiting, singing the old songs and remembering the old days.

On my way back to Kingston, I decided to visit the YS Falls. I keep passing this jewel of St. Elizabeth and never visited, so today is the day. I pay my entry fee and board the tractor train that takes the group past the famous “Brownie” cows and horses to the reception center and I immediately walk towards the falls by following the thunder and smoke created by these falling waters. I am actually surprised. I was not expecting something so stupendous. I believe it is grander than it’s more glamorous sister, the Duns River Falls. As it is the rainy season, tourists are advised not to set foot into the falls; The flow is so rapid, it reminds me of Niagara Falls. The view is breath taking but I couldn’t resist sneaking a dip, sit under the shower to get a good massage and survived it. I declined the repelling but saw more brave souls sliding along the tree tops.

I sit on a bench on the side and read Mark Twain on my Kindle. It is a special moment.

In about an hour, I make my way to the first pool, slosh around a bit and was told that there was an even larger pool not far away so I make my way and it is a treat to swim is the cool waters. Again, I sit by the pool and read some more taking sips of the Red Stripe Beer I bought from the commissary close by. The sun shine is brilliant.

I then make my way to the Mandeville Hospital where Eileen is a patient. I am actually impressed with how modern the hospital is and their courteous and helpful staff. I am usually very critical of the health care system in Jamaica but I now need to correct this perception. It is now 2:30 pm and visiting hours do not start until 3:30. I decided not to have lunch at the Hospital canteens but opt instead to go across the street and enjoyed a wonderful curry goat lunch along with a cold Red Strip at the "Island" restaurant in the Plaza. It was delicious.

I am back to the Hospital in time to be allowed in. I am directed to the Women’s Ward and find Eileen’s Room. As we have not seen each other in fifty four years, she is a little puzzled at first but then the light came on and she shouted: “Basil, Basil Kong, is that you?” “Same one”, I answered. “I bet you are surprised to see me.” My most vivid memory of Eileen is that we were both in the same house (Punctuality) for our annual sports day. Another boy (Sylvester Mair) and I were tied for first and I needed the break the tie but only the jump rope contest was left. Who ever heard of a boy participating in jump rope? I asked Eileen if she would be my partner and low and behold, we won and I was crowned “Boys Champion”. We reminisced a great deal about the glory days and I am heartened that she is not distressed about the impending operation that was scheduled for that evening. I promised to help with her prosthesis. There is so much improvement replacing limbs these days. I am reminded, however, that good doctors cure disease and surgically solve medical problems but really great doctors prevent them. The best hope for managing the cost of health care in Jamaica is through prevention!

She was very happy with the quality of medical care she was receiving and thought it was wonderful that it was all free.

I stopped to buy fruits in Porus, get Tastee patties in Clarendon and fill up my gas tank at the Oasis Station, got on beautiful Highway 2000 and I was back in Kingston by 7:00 pm in time to shower dress, join the Myrie’s (family friends) for dinner and then five of us went to “Waterfalls” for dancing at 11:00 pm. I am back home by 1:00 pm, ready for bed and fall asleep quickly.

You can certainly find things to do in Jamaica.

The Art of Hating Your Friends and Loving Your Enemies

2011-09-12T06:56:00.000-07:00

Racial Superiority (Inferiority) is a Fraud

Basil Waine Kong

In response to the story: “Brownings Please” (Sunday, Sept. 11, 2011),reporting that when placing trainees from "HEART", some employers specifically request non-black employees, a reader who chose not to be identified wrote: "It really breaks my heart to see poor blacks damaging their health by bleaching. It breaks my heart to see that the content of a person's character and ability is judged by the colour of his skin. It breaks my heart to see that education, intelligence and ability have taken a back seat to the lightness of a person's skin colour."

We delight in pledging to become a united nation with the plethora of people who call themselves Jamaicans---"Out of many, one people." People from just about every corner of the world call Jamaica home. We run the gamut of personalities from those who love themselves, love their country and always work to make things a little better. Then there are those who hate themselves, bent on tearing down our country and always treat and value others better than themselves or others who look like them. Is this behavior an expression of self-hatred? Self hatred describe people of low self esteem who dislike themselves as well as the national, racial or ethnic group to which they belong. Who is the cockroach who must know their place in: "Cockroach have no business a fowl dance."

Buju Banton sings:"Mi love mi car, mi love mi bike, mi love mi money an ting/But most of all mi love mi browning."

”Di gyal dem love off mi brown cute face!
Di gyal dem love off mi bleach out face.” (Vybz Kartel and Tarik Russian)

While an enlightened Ms. Louise Bennett said in a television interview that when she was growing up, nearly everything black was bad: bad hair, that black people bad and patois bad, she nevertheless wrote:

“Donkey tink him cub a race-horse;
John Crow tink him pickney white."

A derogatory rhyme is repeated much too often by African Americans:

"Niggers and flies;
Niggers and flies;
The more I know Niggers,
The more I love flies"

Even more disrespectful in Jamaica is the phrase used to describe replacing the political party in power: "swapping black dog for monkey." or "Nutten black no good."

Because human beings generally strive to better themselves; improve their financial status and quality of life; as well as aspire to be respected and honoured; we sometimes become prey to a negative frame of reference. Often we look to others with power for affirmation, which if your are looking to people of European ancestry, requires that you submit and subjugate your values to coincide with those of white people. People of colour are bombarded with images of European values regarding beauty, intelligence and success.

We are forever strapped to the ball and chain the British stamped on us over the last three hundred years. While we are an independent country, it is impossible to declare our independence from our deeply entrenched colonial mentality. I am personally thankful to the British for cricket and golf, afternoon tea, the English language, the wonderful poetry and literature, a stiff upper lip and all that. My advocacy is not for the wholesale rejection of everything British but our continued dependence of things that obviously does not work for us. Jamaica no longer need to copy British traditions wholesale. We should take the good, reject what is senseless or even harmful and develop our own out of this mix. Good old Jamaican values of love and respect for each other should be paramount. Everything else emanate from this central value.

When a black person accomplishes something great there is a feeling among whites that this is not right. There must be something wrong as this level of success is reserved for whites. This is the basis for much of the attacks on President Obama in the United States. Lady Musgrave was so disturbed by the success of Jamaica’s first black millionaire (George Stiebel) and his opulent eleven acre house and gardens that she could not bear to see it as she traveled down Trafalgar Road so she insisted that the Governor of Jamaica (her husband) build an alternative route so she did not have to be reminded that there was a successful black man in Jamaica. The Governor complied and it is called “Lady Musgrave Road” to this day. Nothing Black people do is ever considered good enough to be accepted so blacks are constantly being called on to prove themselves. One slip and they are rejected. “I knew he was not worthy and is just a fraud.” It makes blacks feel insecure and increase their need for acceptance by whites so they act the way they believe will be acceptable to whites. You must be an Englishman to be accepted. This poison is then digested by the general population and become manifested as “You cannot depend on black people to do anything right. Only white people can do things professionally.”

Many Asians and Caribbeans carry umbrellas and wear long sleeve shirts and blouses, not as protection from the rain, but as a shield from the sunshine so they will not become darker. Advertising can at times be racially biased and instead of uplifting our spirits, they serve to tear down our concept of who we are. We then arrive at the preposterous conclusion that we are unworthy of love and become haters of ourselves, our neighbors and anyone who look like us. Self-hatred is destructive and does not serve us well. This is true badmindedness. So, let’s reject these corrupt values.

"This above all; to thine own self be true,
And it must follow as the night the day
Thou canst not then be false to any man."
William Shakespeare, Hamlet, act 1, sc. 3

If you take the case of Michael Jackson, no amount of success could change his obsession with becoming white and having white children. Tiger Woods do not want to be regarded as black and calls himself caublasian, married a white woman and demonstrating some of the same traits as Michael. We recognize their self hatred, hope they will one day get over it but love them anyway. Or maybe we love them because we recognize ourselves in them.

As children, we adopted the traits and beliefs of our parents in the hope that we will enjoy the power and privilege that we perceive that they enjoy. Did we adopt the traits of our slave masters in the process?

Do you compulsively compare yourself with others and always conclude that you don’t measure up?
Do you respond negatively and aggressively to criticism?
Do you encourage abuse from others and rationalize that you don’t deserve any better?
Do you start fights you are sure to lose because you deserve to be battered?
Do you relish compliments and attention from whites but do not value kindness from people who look like you? (In fact, you don’t even pay them any mind.)
Do you automatically find yourself only hiring white people when you need a doctor, lawyer, accountant, builder or repairman?
When you do work for whites, do you go out of your way to do a good job but when working for a black owned company, you slack?
Do you believe that anything foreign is better than locally produced products and services?
Do you believe that ice being sold by whites is colder and is of a better quality than ice being sold by Blacks?
Do you believe that white politicians will do a better job than people who look like you?
Do Black people frustrate and make you angry because they can never do anything right?
Do you place unreasonable demands on yourself to be perfect because you believe this is the only way you can get respect and make yourself lovable?
Do you have the courage to be imperfect?
Do you hide Uncle Joe and dark complected family members from your uptown friends because you believe they will embarrass you because they talk bad and don’t know how to properly use their knife and fork?
Do you dread weddings and funerals when everyone will find out about your relatives?
When you look in the mirror do you only see your flaws?
Do you constantly criticize members of your family, belittling and ridiculing them?
Do you engage in reckless, self destructive suicidal behavior like over eating, consuming dangerous drugs, driving recklessly, and engaging in promiscuous behavior?
Do you make comments characterizing being black as ugly around your children and buy them white dolls?
Have you ever broken off a really great relationship in favor of being with a really bad person? (Do you go out for hot dogs when there is pea soup at home?)

A substantial effort continues to be made to brainwash our people into believing they are physically unattractive. Who came up with "The Black sheep of the family" to describe the family member who did not meet the family expectations? Why is there a market for hair weaves and bleaching creams? Some may arrive at self-hatred because everywhere they look, the people with dark skin are at the bottom of the economic ladder and want to identify with the winners. This process takes place for any child that feels the powerlessness of their diminished circumstances compared to the broader world. They consider themselves losers who lack resources (intelligence, personal connections, money, and influence).

When our police delight in giving white looking people and professionals a break and harass people who look like themselves, it is self hatred. When civil servants ask white people to step to the head of the line ahead of Black people, it is self hatred. When you vote for political candidates because they are white, it is self hatred. When teachers favor a white child, advance him or her and hold back a Black child, it is self hatred. When you only invite “respectable people” into your living room, that is self hatred. If you don’t have the courage to be imperfect and cannot accept the imperfections in your neighbours, that is also self hatred. Why do we continue to treat family and friends badly and save our best for guests and strangers? Why is it that the people we care about the most are the ones who hurt our feelings?

"When God looks at mankind, He doesn’t see us as different races. He doesn’t see different social standings. He doesn’t see color or creed. God looks past all the superficial things that our culture seems to magnify — what we wear, what we drive and what we look like — and He sees us all the same; not black or white, just His beautiful creation. Not upper class or lower class; just one big family." (Sharon Jefferson)

In genetic terms, all human beings, regardless of race, are more than 99.9 percent alike. What that means is that modern science has confirmed the common humanity that we first learned from the Bible and our skin tones are only skin deep. Over the centuries, we have intermarried so much so that Black Jamaicans are often more different than our ancestors in Africa. Regardless of how much black skin correlates with poverty and the opposite with whiteness, there is nothing inherently inferior or superior about skin colour and stigmatizing one group and glorifying the other is what makes it so. According to Dr. J. Craig Venter, Head of the Genome Project: "We all evolved in the last 100,000 years from the same number of tribes that migrated out of Africa and colonized the world."

If I am Black, why would I want to be white? I am Black and I am proud. I am Black and I am beautiful! As opposed to hating ourselves and our neighbours, we are admonished by God to love our neighbours as ourselves. But to do that, we must learn to love ourselves first---the greatest love of all. Let us shun self-hatred. It is counterproductive. You are a child of God, made in his image and embody the temple of the Holy Spirit. You are a valuable human being who was mysteriously and wonderfully made. Our self-worth is not based on what other people tell us about ourselves. No one can make you feel inferior without your consent. Your rights and privileges as a citizen of this great country are no more and no less than anyone else. In the words of Bob Marley: “Stand up for your rights” and learn to live comfortably in your own skin. Don't look at others reflections but look upon yourself. If you do so you are truly admirable. You are God’s valued and special possession. He knows everything about you and He gave you special gifts and abilities for a purpose. Whoever you may be, walk with pride and you will walk good!

Do not envy the oppressor; And choose none of his ways.
Proverbs 4:31

My Eight Near Death Experiences

2011-09-01T05:55:00.000-07:00

Mi Hard Man Fi Dead
You can pick me up and lick me down
And I will bounce right back

While death will eventually have its day, I have had a number of near death experiences that has only strengthened my will to live well even as I tempt fate. The lesson I learned from sky diving is that if at first you don’t succeed, it’s not one of those times to try, try, try and try again. This is not for you.

Can you imagine strapping on a parachute, flying to 2 miles up and jumping out of a perfectly good airplane? The moment of terror that lived in my stomach for 7 days is just before the jump. My wife has died a thousand deaths over my decision to go skydiving. She does not complain, however, about the other passionate little deaths (la petite mort) I experience several times per week.

1. Hopping a truck
One of the pastimes in Jamaica is hoping flat bed trucks and getting a free ride. When this skill is perfected, a man can save a lot of time getting from point A to point B by waiting for a truck to come, run along until you are going the same speed preferably up a steep hill when it predictably slows down. They grab onto a side panel, pull themselves up and get a free ride. I grew up watching very skillful boys do this repeatedly without a problem. It actually looked like fun. The opportunity for me came when I was about eight years old on my way to school. As the truck slowed down on the hill next to Johnson's property, I went through the familiar routine and was feeling proud of myself that I got on without a problem and without the driver even knowing that I was on board. As the school is on a flat road, the truck picked up speed and was now way past my destination. As no one told me how to get down from the truck, in my panic, I just jumped off the truck that was now going about 30 miles per hour clearly expecting to land on my feet. Instead, the landing was a traumatic collision with the ground and I rolled around in the stone gravel. I was battered, bruised, bloody, crying and in severe pain. When I limped to school, Teacher Fargueson beat me and immediately sent me home. When I got home and told my loving, patient and forgiving Granny, she beat me as well before cleaning me up with an antiseptic (Detol) that turned the water white. She put iodine on the scrapes and scratches and crushed chick weed on the deeper cuts. I then went to bed and slept through the night. The bumps on my head (hematomas) that Jamaicans call "coco" went away after a week when Granny declared that I was as good as new. Did I stop hopping trucks? No. I just leaned that you have to hold on and run with the truck for a while before letting go. The trouble with learning from experience is that sometimes the exam comes before the lesson.

2. The Bees
I grew up loving to eat brains (fish, chicken, goat, and hog)hearing that it would make me smart. The other brain food was bananas. About a year after my road accident, I placed some green bananas in a secret hiding place and then went back a week later to gather my prize. As I stuck my hand in to retrieve the sweet bright yellow bananas, I instead disturbed a wasp nest. They immediately started to sting me about 100 times. Within an hour, my face arms and legs had swollen to four times their normal size. My grandmother merely crushed a cube of “blue” that she would ordinarily use to rinse and brighten white clothes and dabbed it on each bite. In a week, I was as good as new and brighter too. When it got dark one evening, I got my revenge. Because wasps cannot see at night, I poured kerosene on the nest and killed them all. The best part was that I got to eat my slightly over ripe bananas.

3. Running for my life(Usain Bolt was a boy to I-man).
When I was twelve years old, I got into an argument with a bigger boy who I accused of stealing the watch my mother sent for me. When he ran after me with a machete, I knew I was going to die. So, I did things I never thought was possible like jumping over walls, traversing a pond and outrunning someone who was the fastest runner on our Boys Brigade troop. I learned that day that Jamaicans are very sensitive to being called a “tief” and that I could outrun anyone. After that, whenever I wanted to run fast, I would get the adrenalin going by pretending that “Mad Ronnie” was chasing me with a machete. I subsequently became the sports champion on sports day at Springfield All Age School in 1958 as well as set a 400 meter track record at Madison high school in New Jersey which earned me a track scholarship to Simpson College in Iowa in 1963.

4. I was coming around the Mountain
I had just graduated from Simpson College in 1967 and while I was pursuing a master's degree at American University as well as got my first job working as a juvenile probation officer in Montgomery County, Maryland. I approached my new job with a great deal of optimism. Because I had met and studied Glasser’s “Reality Therapy”. I asked my supervisor to give me all the hard cases because I thought I could turn water into wine and delinquents into productive citizens. One of my innovations was to borrow the Paddy Wagon from the police department and take seven delinquents at a time to a friend’s cabin in the Allegheny Mountains. We would go on hikes, cook and ate together and at night as well as enjoy great fireside chats. One day, I was taking them down the mountain to buy some provisions when I suddenly came upon an unexpected sudden right turn that I was going too fast to maneuver around and the paddy wagon turned over three times before coming to rest against a tree. It all happened in slow motion. My nose was broken and cut, my ear was severed and there were several severe cuts on my neck and arms. I ran around trying to make sure the boys survived the ordeal. They turned away from me as if I was a hideous creature. It was a good thing that most of them were in the padded police wagon but these tough guys were all crying: “I want my mommy.” We were all bleeding and the problem that we were on a mountain with no telephone, no traffic and no access to help. Fortunately, in about an hour, another camper drove by and was able to go back and get ambulances. My daughter was only a week old and police called my wife and told her that her husband was in an accident. Not knowing whether I was alive or dead, she left Baby Jill with a neighbor and raced up to find me battered and bruised but alive to see another day. Isn’t plastic surgery wonderful?

5. Runaway Bay with Jillian
Jill was about five years old and we were vacationing in a villa in Runaway Bay, Jamaica. When I came back from playing golf, I quickly changed into my bathing suit and ran to the beach to get a quick dip in the ocean to cool off. As I swam out, I heard someone say “gulp” and realized that my precious daughter had followed me into the ocean without my realizing it. In the wide ocean, she was close enough to afford me the opportunity to rescue her. I call this one of my near death experiences because if I had lost her that day, I believe I would have just gone ahead and committed suicide.

6. Ocean City with Melanie
When my oldest daughter Jill was about fourteen years old and youngest daughter Melanie was about eleven, we were living in Columbia, Maryland and took our summer vacation in Ocean City, Maryland. We were very happy to be at the ocean. As soon as we got to the beach, Jill went with her mother to lie in the shade and read while Melanie (the tomboy) and I immediately ran and swam out into the ocean not paying any attention to the warning signs. We were having a glorious time but when I glanced back to shore, we must have been a mile out. A rip tide had carried us out to sea. We tried to swim back and were making no progress. I was exhausted and now convinced that the situation was hopeless, I told Melanie to swim for shore and not to look back. Just when I said my last prayers, I heard a voice yelling: “Grab the ring”. A lifeguard had appeared from nowhere and rescued both of us. He immediately told us to swim parallel to the shore to get out of the rip tide before swimming for shore. When I reached terra firma, I kissed the sand, thanked the lifeguard profusely for saving my daughter and me and went to join Jill and their mother. We decided not to even tell them what happened. About a year later, I got a panic attack as I recalled my daughter Melanie and I and this very close call.

7. The sleigh ride with Aleron
My youngest son, Aleron, was about 7 years old and we lived in York, Pennsylvania. After a lovely snow fall, we used an inflatable raft that we had used in the summer at the pool and went up and down the hill at the Water Commission Property behind our house. When we came home for lunch, I got inspired to tie “Judy Jet”, our huge husky/Labrador mix to the raft and visualized that the dog would just pull Aleron along at a nice pace like he would when we walked him twice per day . As soon as I uttered the word “mush”, the dog took off at about 90 miles per hour through the thick woods with me running behind in a panic yelling to Aleron to jump off. Aleron was holding on to the inflatable raft having a great time and Judy Jet kept running through the trees at speeds that made it impossible for Aleron to roll off the raft. My wife heard my yelling and running after our son and soon joined in the chase running after me with her apron and house slippers. Our older son Freddie, heard his mother and I yelling and he also joined in the conga line running after Judy Jet and the wayward raft. After what seemed like an eternity and the miraculously making it through the woods and going down a very steep hill, Aleron finally fell off the raft giggling and all of us thanking God he was safe. I on the other hand had my life flash before my eyes as I envisioned my son impaled on a tree limb which would have led to my own death-- this time at the hands of my wife Stephanie.

8. Upon the roof
After a severe storm that hit Atlanta in 2002, trees were down, the power was out and there were several limbs on our roof. I decided to be proactive and got my long ladder and went up to the roof to get rid of the debris. I did a great job but when I was climbing down, the ladder gave way and I fell to the stone patio in our back yard. My son Aleron heard the commotion and ran out of the house saying: “Talk to me Dad!” and don't move. I am calling 911. He went on to say that he had seen an episode of ER and when you fall from heights you are supposed to lay still. In my stunned state, I tested my limbs one at a time and everything worked as my son and I waited for the paramedics who rushed us to the hospital. They notified my wife, who left work probably driving faster than the paramedics. When she arrived at the hospital my Xrays showed that nothing was broken and my brain was in tact. I told them that jumping from a truck in Woodlands had prepared me for the fall.

When I walk through storms, I keep my head high and summon courage. There are a whole lot of angels guarding me. That’s why I continue to “walk good”. Don’t worry; I think I still have one life to live.

Mass Basil, the Shopkeeper

2011-08-18T05:36:00.000-07:00

Basil Waine Kong

In Jamaica, Chinese people developed the tradition of "The Shop" or the "Chiney Shop," where customers could buy small amounts of grocery items. This convenience certainly helped and at the same time exploited families on limited incomes and perpetuated the tradition of only buying what was absolutely necessary for each meal---a few ounces of sugar, a quarter pound of flour, a half a pound of rice, a quarter pound of salt fish and even a slice of bread or a bulla (soft molasses cookie). So, the Chinese became culturally and affectionately known as the "Shopkeepers". While my father was one of these Shopkeepers, his departure out of our life when I was four years old was the last vestige of Chinese influence imprinted on me. I have visited China twice, had occasional relationships with people of Chinese heritage but no substantial oriental influence other than through reading. While I am aware that I look "Chinese," I have had an entirely "Black" experience and always worked for Black organizations and lived in Black communities. So, when I get "happy" as a Deacon in my Baptist church, it is something to behold. Not withstanding the lack of Chinese influence, I nevertheless became a "Shop Keeper".

Woodlands District, St. Elizabeth where my brother and I were raised by my Grandmother is a 100% Black community except for two half Chiney Pickney who felt loved and cared for by all the people. Even now, they treat me with the same affection whenever I visit. The entire village raised us. I often say that during my childhood years, even though there were no police or any semblance of law enforcement, I never knew anyone who wanted to harm me or to be even impolite. There was absolutely no crime. Yes, I had four fist fights during my childhood, probably for being called "Chiney Nyam dawg," but we were the best of friends a day later. I do not believe there is a better place in the universe to raise children than in a community in which every child has "mothers, fathers, cousins, aunties and uncles" throughout the community who were not blood relatives. "Good mawnin Mass Bertie. Respect to you sah."

Each generation of Chinese were able to obtain loans that were not available to other Jamicans to start a Chinese Shop in another village after serving as apprentices in their father's shop and continue to expand their business. They could never run out of villages to exploit. As there were no Chinese in Woodlands, someone had to keep shop. So, it fell to Uncle Claudie, the "Big Man" of our community. He started a small shop that became and remained successful throughout his lifetime. It died when his sons and daughters migrated to 'merica and rented the shop space.

Based on the Jamaican Chinese model, this one storey building had a main shop with three counters with a window at the end of each counter. The one to the right sold salt pork, salt fish, red herring and salt mackerel. The centre sold asham (parched ground corn and sugar) sugar, salt, flour, bread, crackers, bullas, canned and other baked goods with the scale in the middle. The left counter sold dry goods. This included shoes, cloth, needles, threads and buttons.

In addition to selling grocery, we also bought pimento (cloves), coffee, corn and beans that we would sell to buyers who came by in trucks. The public space was reserved for dominoes, all fours (a card game) and talking politics and how Cleve Lewis, their representative to Parliament was stealing the eye out of their heads. I learned to play all these games and enjoyed them. If someone wanted a drink, he would visit the rumshop next door where a mento or rumba band played music on Saturday nights and where Mass Claudie would put out salted snacks to make people thirsty so they would buy more beer and white rum with water that was referred to as just: "waters". After each customer, I would wash the glass in a pail of soapy water,rinse, wipe them with a towel and turn it upside down on one of several wooden pegs on a tray.

I was working in Uncle Claudie's shop buying, selling and making change by the time I was ten years old. It was a unique experience making change with pounds, shilling and pence. The smallest denomination was a farthing (one quarter of a penny that could buy an ounce of salt). A quatie was one and a half pence and could buy a slice of bread or a bulla and a shilling could buy a loaf of bread with a bulla as a bratta (a little incentive). It was a good education. I felt very privileged and "Big up" working behind the counter. I developed great relationships with people like Bradda Ashley Black, who taught me to drink gin and and explored the great questions of life with people who just hung around the shop---truly the lifeblood of a small community.

Occasionally, the "Iceman" who was also known as "Spirit" would bring blocks of ice from the ice factory in Santa Cruz (20 miles away), transporting it in hampers covered with sawdust and walked with his donkey back to Woodlands. He then converted it into ice cream (either run and raisin or grape nut), fresco (milk shake) as well as snow cones (shaved ice with strawberry syrup). These were wonderful treats and very refreshing!

My favorite treat at the time was jell-O. I would give money to the the truck driver who took people to Town (Kingston) to bring me a pack of strawberry jell-O mix. I would then have to wait until "Spirit" had ice. I would then mix the jell-O in an ovaltine can (one cup boiling water and one cup cold water) and place the precious liquid on the side of the ice to jell. I would impatiently check it regularly until I could enjoy the cool jelly slide down my throat. When I went “farrin” (overseas), my mother found out that I loved jell-O and served it at every meal. Within a month, I could not stand to even see the stuff.

My most memorable character was "Brother Boogs," the town drunk. Brother Boogs' never got over the death of his beloved wife and he daily drowned his sorrows with rum. Each evening, he would stagger home in the moonlight singing songs he made up. My favorite was:

"When I am a dead dead man
Don't you bury me at all
Just lay my bones in alcohol
One bottle of beer
One to my head and one to my feet
And let the world them know
That my bones can cure."

His daughter dearly loved him and when she went off to “merica” and became a success as a nurse, she sent for Brother Boogs to live with her in New Jersey, but he lasted about a month. He begged to return to Jamaica and to Woodlands where he continued to drink, sing and live in a wonderful house his daughter built for him.

We all loved cricket. To this day, I vividly recall the thrill and every detail of hitting the one six I ever hit. I was fourteen years old. While our games and practice took place at "New Pond", all our club meetings took place at Mass Claudie's shop. Captain Mills was the wise leader of the Woodlands Cricket Club. During our weekly meeting at the shop, before and after the meeting, young and old would break out in song:

"Captain Mills sent and called us boys
We all must go (repeat)
He gave us the command so we must move to it;
Moving like soldier boy
Soldiers fit for war
We all must go."

Whenever we went to other villages (New Market, Black River, Darliston, Pisgha) for a cricket match and lost, we would be quiet. If, however, we were victorious, on our way home in the truck we would make a joyful noise and all sing:

"You were wrong to send and call us
You were wrong;
You know we are the warriors
You were wrong to send and call us."

Another gentleman, Busha Price, courted my Grandmother and was always giving me money and delighted in teaching me to write and recite poetry. He would finish each of his poems with: "Lord Cornwallis, knock'na dough, turtle a'back." I had no idea what it meant, but it had a rhythm to it and could be called a "scat."

One of the suppliers that came to the shop was "Mr. Lazarus." He drove a station wagon full of stuff: shoes, needles and thread, buttons, thimbles, knives, forks, spoons, tools, plates, cups, etc. Uncle Claudie would buy these items and sell them back to the customers. Mr. Lazarus was five feet tall and three hundred pounds. He would bet that the circumference of his waist was more than his height. Someone would always take the bet and lose. He is fond of saying: "I am not deep, but I am very wide. It takes a long time to walk around me."

Uncle Claudie's filing system was a long nail that kept all his bills and receipts in perfect sequential order except that they all had a hole in the middle. Over the years, I adopted the same filing system even in this age of electronic filing. My secretaries and assistants always marvelled that I could always find my messages and communications "filed" neatly on several message nails under my desk. No amount of encouragement on the part of my assistants or my wife could convince me to not use my trusty nail message holders. Old habits die hard.

In our downtime and after closing, we wrapped rice, corn meal, sugar, flour, poured coconut oil in “aerated wata” (soft drink) bottles. I enjoyed making the black pepper funnels. We would also stock the shelves, sweep the floor, wash the glasses and wipe off the counter. While I was not paid for my work, I could eat all the candy I wanted and drink champagne cola. I even occasionally got permission to eat a can of sardines, bully beef or salmon which were wonderful treats. For the thirsty, I would pick a sour orange from a tree at the back of the shop and make lemonade or just mix strawberry syrup and water or condensed milk and water. To make extra money, I would buy a pound of sugar, cut up a coconut into little squares, and boil them together with a little ginger and sell each of these as "coconut drops" for a penny. Each time I did this, I doubled my investment.

I learned about the dangers of drinking over-proof white rum first hand. Uncle Claudie always added water to the cast of overproof rum so that people would not kill themselves. Someone actually took a bet that he could drink an entire bottle. He passed out and slept for a long time after he drank about a half bottle. I don't think he was ever the same after that. He was a ruined man.

The shop also sold kerosene oil (aile)to feed all the "Home Sweet Home" lamps in every household. Every so often, someone would knock one over and their entire house would go up in flames as the broken lamp would become a Molotov cocktail.

One Saturday night when everyone was happy, I was dancing and someone picked me up and put me on the counter so everyone could see how the Chiney Pickney could “wine up im waist”. They all stopped dancing and I was the centre of attention. They then had a good laugh, applauded and gave me money. I was a professional dancer!!!

The store was open six days per week but only the side window was open on Sunday morning because there was not supposed to be any work or business activity on our day of rest. Everyone (except Uncle Claudie) went to church. I don't think Uncle Claudie ever knew what the inside of the church looked like until he was being burried.

For several years, The McDonalds'living quarters was in the back of the shop with a separate building for the kitchen and a latrine further away. I lived with my granny up the hill. As Mass Claudie amassed his fortune, he built a fine house on the hill overlooking the shop.

When politicians and religious leaders came by to give sermons and speeches, they would always meet in front of Mas' Claudie's shop with a Tilly lamp that he hung in front whenever it was needed. That lamp with its special blue fuel actually lit up the place.

I worked in Uncle Claudie's shop after school and week-ends for four years taking part in adult conversations, making change and having a drink from time to time with the men. There was no restriction on children buying and drinking alcohol. Even at seven years old, Granny would send me with sixpence to buy brandy. She needed a little nip from time to time.

When I was twelve years old, Uncle Claudie decided to leave Aunt Myra and Uncle Ronnie (The Jew Boy)in charge of the shop in Woodlands and expand his operations to Springfield, about five miles away. He took this step even though Harry Chen-See ran a much larger shop up the street and Mr. Lynn Salmon and Miss. Zippy owned a similar shop on the other end of the village. The Chen Sees even had a gasoline pump where they would measure out each gallon in a glass container on top of the pump before transferring it to the car. Miss. Ada and Miss. Gloria (mother and daughter) were particularly kind to me and even invited me to spend time with them behind the counter. I loved going to the bakery and fashioning animals with the bread dough and was delighted to take these hand made breads to Granny and my brother. I also remember that the Chen Sees raised turtles for turtle soup. The post office was upstairs and across the street where I went to collect the boxes of "breguede" (goodies) that my mother frequently sent.

I was asked to go live with Uncle Claudie at this new location for six days per week to help with the shop and keep his company. After we closed the shop on Saturday evening at 9:00 pm, we would get on his high horse and ride the five miles back to Woodlands with all his money in a bag. On other occasions I loved riding Uncle Claudie's horse and even had a donkey that I sometimes rode to school.

Eventually, Uncle Claudie sold the Springfield shop and consolidated his business back to Woodlands, building a new shop that included space for the District postal agency.

On one of my trips to the big city of New Market, I asked Mr. Cummings, the Chinese owner of "Cummings Dry Goods" to give me a job as I now had plenty of experience as a shopkeeper. He immediately hired me. On Saturdays and holidays, I either took the "Champion Bus" or walked the five miles to and from work and earned real spending money. While in New Market, I made friends with Miss Maudie, a single Chinese lady, who owned a similar shop across the street.

Starting in 1957, the word went out that jobs were available in England and anyone who got there would get a job paying ten times their current earnings. So, people sold their land and all they owned to Uncle Claudie (who made huge profits from these desperation sales) as just about all the able bodied men and women went off to England, along with our mento band, our cricket club, the dominoes club, and our ping pong club. This mass migration took the life out of the community. Suddenly, we had a hard time just getting four men together to play dominoes. The shoemaker, the carpenter, the barber, the tailor and most regrettably, all the members of the "Herbie Arnold Rumba Band" and the church organist left to find gold in London. There was no more live music, no cricket matches, lively Saturday dances---only grandparents and children were left behind. On balance, they sent a lot of money back for their families.

I left on April 5, 1959 and returned May 5, 2009, fifty years later to discover my beloved island all over again. I continue to believe in the old values and will continue to support the country of my birth and the people who nurtured me in my youth. All of my children have been provided some of these rich experiences and I encourage them all to allow our grandchildren to live here and be educated here. This is "home" to my soul as I continue my Jamaica Chapter, hopefully participating in it's past, present and future.

Which is More Important in Jamaica: Merit, Preparation, Charisma, Ethics or Who You Know?

2011-05-18T06:49:00.000-07:00

Basil Waine Kong

I take issue with recent comments made by our Former PM (P.J. Patterson) claiming that we have a highly capable civil service; a trained cadre of bright, competent public officers in Jamaica. That is certainly not my experience. I am forever being frustrated by one government bureaucrat or other. It is just too difficult to get things done. My observations lead me to believe that Jamaica is a country where relationships reign. You cannot get anything done without knowing somebody. Merit, skills, education, a positive attitude, ethics and good citizenship is useless baggage and count for little if it isn’t combined with connections either by blood or friendship.

This is a summary of a recent letter to the Gleaner (Wednesday | May 18, 2011) from Courtney Washington Joiles, President of Elcore International Fashions: “I recently started the process of transferring my garment-manufacturing business from the United States (US) to a leased space in the Kingston Free Zone…I came home full of hope and faith in my country and my fellow Jamaicans…My experience with getting the manufacturing space ready for operation has been an exercise in frustration. Rarely have I encountered more ineptitude. No one has delivered the service I was promised on time...There have been numerous hurdles - all of them attributable to inefficiencies and lack of communication between cross-functioning departments…Is this the way our country treats investors who are willing and able to contribute to our economy via new jobs?”

It is said that Jamaica is controlled by twenty five families. They not only look out for each other, everyone else is star struck and beat a path to their door, anxious to please. Members of these families are denied nothing because everyone wants access and cannot succeed without their blessing. They never wait in lines and are always favoured in the most glaring way. “Mawning Mass Charlie, you are a busy man, you don’t have time to wait in line, come up to the front.” Strangely, there is no protest from those inconvenienced. There is the prescribed Rube Goldberg way to do things for the general public and the efficient way where relationships take precedence. No employment of the most trivial nature, (well paid or not), is possible if you don’t know the right people and can return the favour. If you are not in a position to dish our favours or exert influence, you will be ignored. And if you are known to be associated with a political party, don’t expect any favours from the other.

If an influential politician is approached by the daughter of a friend who has never worked, has no skills and was too lazy to obtain an education, the government minister will likely say to the Permanent Secretary: “Ms. Johnson, this is Miss. Jones, please find something for her to do with an appropriate salary. She is my niece. No work will be required and when other employees find out about this political appointment, they will decide that they don’t need to work either. But the competent ones will be frustrated as their responsibilities are assumed by these political appointments. To have the friendship of a man of influence and substance is money in the bank. Along the same line, don’t go getting the right people angry. The objective of Social gatherings is not necessarily to have a good time or to relax but to make connections. Your presence is required to succeed in Jamaica while the wheels of government grinds to a halt.

According to Mr. Carl Bliss: (Gleaner, Monday, May 16, 2011) “For so many years, the business/ entrepreneurial community has been screaming at the Government to make Jamaica more business-friendly. Both PNP and JLP governments have promised to do just that. The reality is always different…There is little doubt in my mind that the current environment is decidedly inhospitable to business. Just try dealing with Customs, JAMPRO, the tax department, Companies Office of Jamaica, to name a few, and you are in for a near nightmarish experience. We have a culture which systematically aims at penalising enterprise. Our political, social, economic and policy-support systems will need revolutionary changes if we are to see the type of business-friendly atmosphere necessary to propel us… Almost every agency of the State seems to treat business as the enemy which must be hounded and eventually brought down, at whatever cost.”

This will not happen until we implement an objective merit system for hiring civil servants so we can make use of our most talented people (who are in abundance) instead of our current relationship system.

Raising the Abundance Generation

2011-04-25T04:34:00.000-07:00

No Pain, No Gain
Basil Waine Kong

My wife and I spent last weekend sprinkling a little stardust and otherwise taking care of two of our six adorable grand children while their parents went off on a week-end cruise. While we live for these opportunities so we can hug up and spoil them, we departed with some sadness because there was literally nothing we could “buy” to spoil them. They already have every material gadget imaginable! But I do not consider it a blessing that our grandchildren have never been out of the supervision of adults, hungry, thirsty, tired, hot, cold or know any other discomfort. We seem to have forgotten what coaches are always saying: "No pain, no gain". Do you really want your children protected from all unpleasantness and never encounter a bully or a criminal? Do you advise them to never fight? With my Jamaican sensibilities, I don’t think it possible to appreciate a sweet apple without tasting a sour one. My children obviously disagree with me, as does their doting, over indulgent and protective grandmother, “Nana”.

If any of our grand children's needs are conceived, they are immediately fulfilled by their parents. This is a time when we should be spoiling our grandchildren but what do you do when every possible avenue for spoiling them is already fulfilled. While we try to nourish their spirit and create indelible memories, I asked them to think big and tell “Pop-Pop” and “Nana” what we could buy them and they cannot think of anything as they have no unmet material needs. While I always eat and drink whatever was provided, if these children don’t like what is prepared for them for dinner, no problem, their parents will fix something else, order a pizza or take them out to a restaurant to get them whatever their hearts desire. Four flavors of ice cream is already in the freezer or being made ready in their ice cream maker, candy and treats of all kind are in the pantry, DVD movies are stacked on shelves and they already have libraries of books, toys galore and computer games. If anything hurts, they are immediately transported to a source of medical care or medicated.

There is no quiet time as entertainment is non-stop. When at home, the TV is always on. When being transported, the video in the car immediately comes on and the children are mesmerized and no longer share in songs, jokes and conversation with each other or with their parents. I am also not sure how I feel about children receiving a reward and a prize for coming in tenth in a contest or race as is the practice at their school. I love my children and take great pride in their success and their good intentions but I do not share some of their modern ideas of conferring happiness upon their children. No pain, no gain.

It may be old fashioned of me to believe that hardship and even suffering makes us more confident that we can handle similar challenges, wiser and therefore better. There has never been a successful leader who did not spend time in the wilderness or struggled. You cannot make steel without experiencing the hot coals of hell. One cannot grow in holiness and faith in God’s grace without hardship. Leaders must come through the fire, experience the depths of despair and experience the victory over death. Then one is ready for leadership. I am not surprised that the pampered upper class never produced any of our heroes or sheroes.

My approach to children’s happiness is to provide incremental and progressive increases. I believe human nature requires us to “do better”. So, if children get everything they need or want, they are doomed to be unhappy whenever this cannot be sustained and they reach a plateau or even regress. Whether you can afford it or not, giving a child a luxury automobile when he obtains his or her driver’s licenses at sixteen is dooming them to unhappiness later, if they cannot progress to something better. Which teenager is happier? The one who fixes up an old car or the one who gets a new car? What a patient wants to hear from the doctor is: “You are doing better”. Employees what to know they are on the right track and improving. We want to make progress. A millionaire who lost one of his millions is unhappy. A man of average means who gets a better job or a raise is happy---for a while. We do our children a disservice if we don’t save some of life’s pleasures for later.

Honestly, I am not attempting to equip our army with bow and arrows or even muskets nor do we wallow in “this generation is going to hell” syndrome. I do wonder what our grand children’s motivation will be for doing the parents bidding or to work hard to achieve. The saying goes: “Soldiers produce professionals who produce artists who produce…” I was shocked to learn that fifty percent of American Olympic athletes were born in another country. What a guan?

About ten years ago, I saw a photograph in a magazine of a boy from rural Mississippi hugging his first pair of shoes with tremendous glee and happiness. I also recall my own childhood exuberance and appreciative expressions when I received a bag of marbles or a packet of jello. My grand children will never know this joy. They get a new pair of shoes every month, their closets are full of clothes that they will probably will never wear because they are growing so fast. I often ask them to slow down because if I miss seeing them for a month, they change on me and learn new skills. They are all engaged in supervised sports and activities. While this occurs for the fortunate few, it is now rare to find pickup games or children just playing together or riding their bicycles outside. It is unfortunate that children do not walk and talk to school any more.

How lucky I was growing up that other than church and school related activities, children had very little supervision. While American children are supervised every second and locked into car seats, high chairs and cribs, no one other than their parents and close relatives are allowed to touch, hug or even discipline them. Everyone in Woodlands District had a right to discipline any child they saw misbehaving. A four year old child in Maryland was actually expelled from school because he kissed another four year old girl. Thank God, I grew up with lots of hugs and kisses from neighbors, teachers, and even strangers.

I honestly believe that bad experiences make the good experiences sweeter, being deprived makes obtaining material things more meaningful, and that absence does make the heart grow founder. I don’t believe any of my grandchildren have ever had a “bad experience”. I am reminded of the Prince to Siddhartha Gautama, who was raised in a perfect environment, given every advantage and protected from evil, or anything that could make him sad, frustrated or bored. As soon as he could, he escaped and founded a religion based on the absence of need. The true road to nirvana is to free one’s self of the need for earthy wealth. True insight and motivation comes from denying one’s self. Earthly pleasures cannot satisfy the longings of the heart and soul.

Ralph Waldo Emerson's advice was: "Do not be too timid and squeamish about your actions. All life is an experiment. The more experiments you make the
better. What if they are a little course, and you may get your
coat soiled or torn? What if you do fail, and get fairly
rolled in the dirt once or twice. Up again, you shall never be
so afraid of a tumble."We seem to be raising our children to do just the opposite.

As impressed as I am with the abundance of America, I lament. My daughter (Melanie Shaw) reminds me that: "Being happy has little to do with "stuff" and much more about personal achievement, sense of purpose, feeling appreciated, the feeling that you're making a difference... and having friends and loved ones to share and give witness to it." It is going to be harder to teach these lessons to children in this abundance generation. I have to believe that there is more to life than having everything.

Saying Good bye: Death and Dying in Woodlands District in the Fifties

2011-04-21T17:04:00.000-07:00

Basil Waine Kong

I grew up in Woodlands District, St. Elizabeth Parish, Jamaica. My grandmother who raised me (Mrs. Rosella McKenzie) believed that when people died, they get to talk with God about others left behind. If the living want a good report, they must have excellent relations with others and particularly for those who are going home. In our community, the care and feeding of those who are in the process of dying was treated with great reverence. Granny was particularly helpful to the sick and unabashedly reminded them that they should not forget to recommend that God send her a special blessing when they saw Him. Sick people in our community were always treated with kindness as a testimonial of their virtue with an expectation of a reward. Duppy have power. Occasionally, someone felt a need to clear their conscience and confess their sins before they pass on. This, however, always implicated others, so the chalk man would be called to make sure he or she stop “talking”.

Everyone believed that death is a journey of the soul from this world to a better place where there is no pain or sorrow. It was a curiosity to me that a land of milk and honey with angels flying about was the best they could do to motivate the living to do God’s will.

The death of a loved one would be accompanied with the tolling of the bell at Springfield Moravian Church calling the entire community to gather at the home of the person who passed on to pay respects to the deceased and to comfort the bereaved. Some of the women would wash, anoint the body and dress him or her in the best clothes available for the viewing. The men measured the body, dig the six foot grave (east and west), in the church cemetery or family plot and construct a simple cedar box to specifications---all done in the dead person’s yard. Granny would invariably say: “Ask not for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for you and me.”

Other women would immediately start a wood fire on three stones, cooking in a washed out kerosene can. The white rum and water would help to drown out their sorrow as well as quench the thirst of those assembled. For the following nine nights, the community would gather to keep vigil on the family, pray, play dominoes, sing and dance with tambourines, cry, tell dumpy stories and talk about the life of the dearly departed.

While men were restrained from showing much emotion and may cry quietly, women wailed. Granny said the nine night (set up) custom started because they didn’t want to make a mistake and bury a person who was not dead so they would wait nine nights to give the person every opportunity to wake up. Lots of noise were made in an effort to wake the dead. A second reason is to ward off evil spirits and assure that the dearly departed is not prevented by the devil from their ascension into heaven. Generous contributions from neighbours would cover the tremendous cost of the food, drinks, and materials for the funeral. Often a cow was butchered. For the carpenters, grave diggers, the women who prepared the food and the body for burial, this was a labour of love and no one expected to be paid.

The number of songs at the wake was endless and as most people could not read, a song leader would (track) call out the next line of a song for everyone else to follow. My favorite nine night songs were:

Mi sa mi ole man dead and he no lef no will; He lef a likkle piece of land fi feed the whole a we; but mi bigger breda tief it way from wi; Glory be to God, Glory be to God fi de whole a wi.

"Adam in the garden hide him self, hide himself, hide him self; Adam in the garden hide him self, hide himself from God"

"You have longed for sweet peace
For grace to increase
You have earnestly and fervently prayed
But you cannot have rest or be perfectly blessed
Till at last you are on the alter laid"

After the ninth night, the coffin would be nailed shut and transferred to the church. The entire community would attend with men dressed in black suits and the women in white dresses. The choir would sing, the minister would preach and pray, and the family would weep being supported by friends who would fan and hug them. The attentiveness of friends kept grieving family members from hurting themselves when they inevitably fainted. About a dozen people would offer affectionate remembrance and the spouse was expected to wear black and be in mourning for six months.

After the service, the six pallbearers would pick up the coffin and start a parade to the burial site at the church yard or to the family plot with everyone singing as they walked. A second service took place at the grave. The coffin would be placed over the grave and finally lowered to the bottom. I can still hear the sound of the two ropes as they were pulled out after the coffin came to rest. Several people would say: “Good bye Mass Georgie, see you soon.” No one left before the last shovel of dirt is tossed and many would linger for hours after to partake of the vittles that was provided. Granny would remind us that dust to dust, ashes to ashes was the way of all flesh. Soon and very soon, we all have appointments to see the King. She just wanted to remind us that she does not want to be looking all over heaven for her family so we better live a good life so we could join her up there. For the following weeks after a funeral my brother and I would have nightmares and wake up screaming as we dreamed that we were being covered with dirt.

As scary as funerals were to us, Granny always pointed out that once upon a time, people lived forever. There were no births and no deaths . But the people asked God to give them children and He said that would only be possible if people would also accept death. They unanimously agreed and so it was that every time a child is born, someone dies. In Woodlands District, Invariably the news of a death was always accompanied by news of a birth.

Jamaica Requires Distance to Appreciate It.

2011-03-08T11:56:00.000-08:00

Basil Waine Kong

During February (2011), I hosted a group of friends (golfers from the United States) and want to share their perspective about their experience. There was no end to the friendly bantering and camaraderie as they raved about the absolutely first class golf experience they enjoyed, with incredible vistas and caddies who were accommodating and knowledgeable about the game. The Villas were grand and staffed by expert cooks who offered magnificent meals, good service and hassle free living. But after a trip to downtown Montego Bay, visiting various destinations and becoming familiar with Jamaica’s history, politics, culture and economy, convinced them that Jamaica requires a little distance to appreciate it.

Our country of wood and water is characterized by majestic mountains in a perpetual state of awesome verdure dotted with flowers until you experience bauxite waste, the smell of rotting garbage and shanties along our river-banks. Our people are famous for their wit and charm but also the soul-sucking tedium of Rube Goldberg procedures and bureaucracy. It alarmed my colleagues that our Justice Minister admitted that she doesn't know how to use e-mail and was still agonizing over a percieved insult from 30 years ago. We all agreed that our white sand beaches are the best in the world until their solitude was repeatedly disturbed by beggars and hustlers selling valueless trinkets and herbs. We market ourselves as warm, hospitable people. And we are, but not when engaging in that suicide pact that is called driving. My friends wondered if we have Jekyll and Hyde personalities. (One citizen is killed each day from automobile accidents).

As my friends were escaping drifts of snow and ice in the United States, they exited our modern airport facilities in worshipful admiration and fell into rapture over the beauty of our island’s perpetual summer and proclaimed it a paradise until they encountered our petty crimes and hungry children begging on our streets. A lovely cloudless blue sky day accompanied by a gentle cool breeze was obliterated by the blight of aggressive, undisciplined, contentious and disorderly vendors and street-side ginalds. According to Mark Wignall: "this land of ours it at once a fairy tale, a paradise, a puzzle and a horror story." (Jamaica Observer, Sunday, March 13, 2011)

Daily reading of our Newspapers revealed the following:
1. Dangerous and deadly criminal networks are tolerated by our political leaders leading to the death and demise of thousands of our citizens.
2. Four Jamaicans are murdered annually and three more are missing and presumed dead including our vulnerable children. One citizen is killed by our police each day. By comparison, New York City with four times as many people, has only one homicide per day.
3. The police do not help when citizens are expelled from their homes by Dons and gangs simply because these victims without recourse support the wrong political party.
4. Squatter communities with unsightly zinc shanties are here and there and everywhere because of whole scale poverty and homelessness across the length and breadth of Jamaica.
5. Businesses and business owners are constantly being harassed for protection money and must add the expense of “security” to their already burdensome cost of doing business because of heavy utility costs and harassing government bureaucracy.
6. One out of three Jamaicans cannot read or write. We further burden them by giving most of our young men police records that make them ineligible to ever leave the country or find employment.
7. We have a penchant for blaming the victims. We do not provide toilet facilities for poor people and when they have to “make do”, they are regarded as nasty. We spend our educational budget on the talented twenty percent who abandon the country after they complete their education but the Ministry of Education will not provide employable skills for those who must stay and then blame them for not being gainfully employed.

Is this any way to run a country? The question they ask is: "How can a country with so much talent and natural resources be so badly managed?"

I recommend to them that if they want to appreciate Jamaica and our endless sunshine and bountiful rains, that they do not see it up close and personal. The wonders of our island is truly stupendous but our under belly is horrendous. We are like a lighthouse, forever focused and looking externally while our base is ignored. Maybe we need to shine some of the light on our nooks and crannies.

According to Betty Ann Blaine: “It is time to call a spade a spade, and lend our hearts and voices to a call for justice to be served against those who have done harm to our people and our country, while we seek at the same time to fix the systems and structures necessary to preserve life and to promote prosperity.”
(“Crimes Against Humanity”, Jamaica Observer, Tuesday, March 8, 2011)

My Recipe for Happiness

2011-02-01T10:16:00.000-08:00

Basil Waine Kong

Although "I need no warrant for being, and no work or sanction upon my being" (Ayn Rand, Anthem, 1946), I will leave the answer as to whether my life’s work has been worthwhile and even whether I am a man of substance but I am the only one who can judge whether I am happy. I now make that claim. “I have lifted the bowl of life and drank from it with gusto.”(Mark Twain)I am married to an incredible woman. Our four children are phenomenally successful and we have six of the most beautiful grand children ever conceived. I am a happy man. According to my friend, Dr. Malcolm Taylor, the recipe is as simple as: “If you have God, family and friends, you may stumble, but you will never hit the ground.”

At 68 years old, I am retired with great health and my golf game is better than ever. As the objective of my symphony was never to get to the end, I am now focused on the rest of the journey in which I constantly feast on the vast storehouses of joy like a Negril sunset. I have the peace of mind about our financial well being and we have loving and generous children who all assured us that they will tend to our needs--if needed. After a lifetime of adventure, satisfaction from the work I have done, I am now able to accept the differences that I used to find objectionable and I am much more willing to expose myself to rejection. I sleep well and no longer have an alarm clock. But as the cock crows, I wake up. My ambition is no longer to conquer the world. So after a cup of Blue Mountain Coffee, I am ready to get on with doing what a man’s got to do such as write, do what I can for those less fortunate, and more often than not, meeting with friends to play a round of golf.

I used to live in fear that someone may judge me wanting and now care far less what others think about me. My daily prayer is:

“God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference. Living one day at a time; Enjoying one moment at a time; Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace; Taking, as He did, this sinful world as it is, not as I would have it; Trusting that He will make all things right if I surrender to His Will; That I may be reasonably happy in this life and supremely happy with Him, forever in the next. Amen.” (Reinhold Niebuhr )

I forgive transgressions immediately. I learned to do this driving in Jamaica. Just smile and let them pass you. I no longer obsess about the other wrongs that others may heap on me. I am less self centered and much more willing to accept my shortcomings. Yes, I am a show off and over-competitive. If I obsess about anything anymore, it is to get rid of the clutter. I now believe that I didn’t need all the things we have accumulated over these many years. I am less attached to material things and more attracted to interesting experiences and my important relationships, particularly with our grand children. I try to treat everyone with kindness and freely offer compassion to others as well as myself. It comes much easier as I grow more patient with age. Unfortunately, I also have a need to impart the knowledge I have accumulated. My penchant for doing so is not always appreciated. I have come to realize that my children and others do not want quick and easy solutions to their challenges and must eventually discover these truths for themselves. I am at peace with that as well. The greatest truth I have learned over these many years is that for every truth one discovers, the opposite is also true. Neither I or anyone else have all the answers.

The world offers so much. There are many exciting possibilities and so little time to enjoy them. When I was young, time passed very slowly and I was anxious to grow up. Getting older is like a roll of toilet paper, it accelerates as one gets closer to the end. The years pass quickly. Is it Christmas again? Didn’t I have a birthday a few months ago? I now feel like I must fill ever minute with 60 seconds of bliss. The brevity of life and the certainty of death is a fact we must all contemplate.

I don’t want to just get by. I made a commitment long ago to be happy. I know a gentleman who was born in Jamaica and retired in the United States whose goal is just to live another day. His retired life is eating, watching television, playing caluki with friends once a week and sleeping till noon each day. I asked him why he doesn’t return to Jamaica and let the sun again shine on his face and he can only think of negatives. I asked him (half jokingly), if this is how you spend his time, what are you doing here? Then I ask him to forgive me as I have no right to dictate to anyone else how they should live their lives.

When I was twelve, I walked on cloud nine when a pretty girl smiled in my direction. It may have been directed at the boy behind me but I took it very personally. The first time another girl tickled my palm middle leading to my first kiss, it was a divine and is yet indelibly imprinted in my brain but not as sweet as a rum raisin ice cream cone, “bust me jawbone”, pepper mint sticks, corn pone and bullas. These provided memorable delights of my youth.

The source of great truths are found in the Bible.

“When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me.” (First Corinthians 13:11)

“For everything there is a season; a time for every matter under heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die; A time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted; A time to kill, and a time to heal; A time to break down, and a time to build up; A time to weep, and a time to laugh; A time to mourn, and a time to dance; A time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together; A time to embrace, And a time to refrain from embracing; A time to seek, and a time to lose; A time to keep, and a time to throw away; A time to tear, and a time to sew; A time to keep silence, and a time to speak; A time to love, and a time to hate,; A time for war, and a time for peace.” (Ecclesiastes 3:1-8)

God has ordained seasons and cycles in our lives. I believe I have planted, fertilized, kept the weeds away and watered. I saved, exercised daily, nourished my mind, body and soul so I could arrive at this point in my life when I can enjoy the fruits of my striving. At every other stage of my life or having reached a goal I found another goal was waiting. A prisoner who stares through steel bars often believe that his only problems are the bars that keeps him caged. When he is released, he multiplies his problems by a factor of 100. You may not know this about me, but I was locked up in prison once. Under the direction of Randall Robinson, a group of us were demonstrating in front of the South African Embassy in Washington DC during apartheid and was arrested (as expected) and sent by paddy wagon to the pookie, booked and locked up for four hours. It felt good to stand up for something.

In my own life, I have been guilty of many arrival fallacies. “If only I could break that track record…graduate from college… get a job… have my own car… get married… complete my Ph.D. dissertation… graduate from law school… pass the BAR… make more money… own a BMW… have successful children… have pretty grandchildren… retire without worry… break 80 in golf, etc., etc., etc.” Each time I arrived at a hard fought for goal and celebrated, I automatically went on to yet another. There is always another hill to climb and another river to cross.

I have never been unemployed, depressed, had a broken bone, a serious illness or an addiction (except to my wife). I have never been overweight. I am able to eat or drink whatever I wanted because I have always been active. I did divorce and suffered through that trauma with my teenage children but found that sometimes you must die a painful death to reach heaven. It took a long time to get over the complications and hurt feelings. What became readily evident was that one can only be as happy as their unhappiest child. Being a parent means that you must wear your emotions on your sleeve. My children are my pride and joy but from time to time, they have also been the source of my greatest agony.

According to the Buddha: “Thousands of candles can be lighted from a single candle, and the life of the candle will not be shortened. Happiness never decreases by being shared.” I make a conscientious effort to invest in the happiness of others believing that most of our happiness arises from these supportive relationships.

First and foremost, my enlightened self interest tells me that a happy wife increases my chances of a happy life. “If mamma aint happy, aint nobody happy.” If you want happy children, make sure their mother is happy. While we have survived difficult times and challenging adversities, we are now more committed than ever. I love her more today than yesterday but not as much as I will tomorrow. Whether my motivation is sex, conversation or just snuggling, we go to bed at the same time. According to Proverbs 26:20: “Where there is no wood, the fire goes out.” The most delightful of pleasures is pleasing my wife.

While I used to be more dogmatic about having my way, it is so simple these days to just say: “Yes darling!” Richard Carlson says: “Don’t sweat the small stuff and everything is small stuff” A hundred years from now, nothing I do will matter and no one will even know I even existed. I cannot think of anything that is now worth arguing over. As a result of my unwillingness to be at loggerhead with her, she is constantly thinking about how she can enhance my happiness. When our children visit, we treat them like we would if President Obama and Michelle were here. We never serve our family the broken cookies and often put out the best china and silver even when they protest that we should be more informal. When it comes to the special people in your life, use your best stuff---now! I marvel that some families save the best for company and show the worse to their own families.

Our home is a storehouse of happy memories. My wife is absolutely the best person I have known to keep happy memories vivid. Every Christmas, we summarize the highlights of the past year for family and friends. We have twenty of these Christmas letters that have become our family history. For important birthdays, she creates a book of photographs with appropriate notes for our children and grand children. For all the trips we have taken together, we have a detailed diary of each day’s adventure. I cannot wait to get old and wallow in these memories. We have a treasure house of happy memories. We are particularly keen on preserving these memories when the grand children visit without their parents for extended time over the summer. And my wife’s crowning achievement is that she creates a personal calendar with family photographs that she shares with all our family with all birth dates, anniversaries and important family anniversaries printed in the calendar. We are always thirsty for more news and developments about our children and grand children (Hint, hint).

Last summer, we invited my mother, a favorite aunt, our four children and their five children (The youngest had not yet arrived) to spend a week in Montego Bay. As they are scattered throughout the United States, we realized that the grand children did not know their uncles and aunts. It was a marvelous week showing them where I lived and went to school and grew up. They also all learned to swim, play dominoes and to love Jamaican food. I even made a maypole. As much as I advertised how wonderful my childhood was, none of them would consider living in Woodlands. On the other hand, they would consider living in a fancy Villa in Montego Bay with helpers and a swimming pool. They also enjoyed Duns River Falls, the Beaches and water parks.
According to Gretchen Rubin: “Happiness has four stages. To eke out the most happiness from an experience, we must anticipate it, savor it as it unfolds, express happiness, and recall a happy memory.”

My grandmother told me that good deeds are seeds that when planted will always bear fruits to be enjoyed later. The giver is always more blessed than the receiver. We really should thank those we help for the opportunity to earn a blessing. “One is not always happy when one is good; but one is always good when one is happy.” (Oscar Wilde)

My mother is now 89 years old. While her physical body is failing her mind is sharp. While I have been diagnosed with CRS (Cannot Remember S—t), the best assurance that I will not have old-timer’s disease is to have parents who do not. Her favorite retort to my telephone calls to inquire about how she is feeling: “I am still above the ground and taking nourishment” and still remind me that "Mother knows best" and will remind me of the time when I didn't follow her advice and lived to regret it. She continues to challenge me with intellectual conversations and more than anything else, she has a wonderful sense of humor. She taught me that I could only be happy if I lived a life of service to others. When we do things for others, we please God and inspire ourselves. “If you have something to do, do it as if all depended on you but praying as if all depended on God.”

I find that my generosity often cost me nothing but connecting people. I asked my golfing friends in the United States to donate golf clubs and shoes to the caddies at Caymanas Golf Club and they did. I brought representative from Food for the Poor to see the deplorable living conditions of some of the people in St. Elizabeth and they built and donated over 100 houses out of this initiative. I was having breakfast with some friends at the Pegasus Hotel one morning a year ago and saw fifty people wearing lab coats, I went over and introduced myself and found out they were medical missionaries from Florida who annually visit Jamaica, I suggested that they consider bringing their services to St. Elizabeth. One year later, their team came and treated 1,000 under served people and distributed 500 free eye glasses. I get a great deal of satisfaction from seeking out opportunities and seeing them inure to the benefit of the village that raised me when I was a child.

Everything goes better with happiness. When I am in a happy frame of mind, my performance is at a peak, the quality of my golf improves and I feel strong and healthy. The people I encounter are beautiful and engaging. Whatever I eat or drink is delicious. The music I am listening to goes to my soul. The sunshine on my face is warm and radiant. The cool breeze is delightful against my skin. The songs of the birds are everywhere and the bloom of the flowers are rich and colorful. God is in his heaven and all is right with the world. Occasionally, when I am in a bad mood and feel bored, frustrated, worried and tired, I become withdrawn, irritable, critical of others, overwhelmed and nothing please me.

The story of the woodsman has always had important meaning for me. The Woodman was hired to fall trees. On his first day, he was able to tumble six of them. Working even harder, the second day, he was only able to fall five and on the third day, only four. He was tired, puzzled, embarrassed and frustrated as he explained the situation to his wife who listened and responded: "Darling, have you stopped to sharpen the axe?" Golf has always provided this respit for me to keep my axe sharp.

Do bad, feel bad. Feel bad, do bad. Do good, feel good. Feel good, do good. Comfort the sick and dying to find health and well being in ourselves. I focus less on my own worries and more on relieving the suffering of others. You cannot hurt other people without hurting yourself. Criminals are very unhappy people.

According to Eric Burn, we need at least a dozen “strokes” per day. Strokes are positive encounters. The smile from someone bidding you good morning or good night, someone expressing gratitude for a good deed you have done, receiving a hug, a complement, someone offering you a cool drink, demonstrating respect or biging you up are all examples of strokes. Unfortunately, you cannot obtain more than twenty percent of these strokes from the same person. So, we have a responsibility to make ourselves lovable to a wider audience so these transactions can be genuine. False and fake complements don’t count. The rituals of a birthday cake and the singing of the birthday song and important as we take turns being the center of attention for each other.

I am on a mission because having a sense of purpose is important. I try to put passion and energy into everything I do. I have always brought intensity, diligence and enthusiasm to every task. Sometimes I have had to practice a poem, speech or song repeatedly so I could perform with gusto. It takes a lot of practice to make things look natural. The older I get, the longer it takes to commit these things to memory and it does not linger after the performance. I was amused when a character on “Saturday Night Live” said he could teach anyone four years of Spanish in one easy lesson. According to him, the only thing we can recall after studying Spanish for four years are: “¿Cómo está usted? ¿Cómo estás? Bien gracias, ¿y usted? ¿Cómo te llamas?” He promised that he could teach us those phrases in one session.

Most people wake up, have breakfast, go to work, put in 8 hours, get home, watch TV and go to bed. People with passion, WAKE UP, HAVE BREAKFAST, GO TO WORK, PUT IN 8 HOURS, GET HOME, WATCH TV AND GO TO BED. While we may be doing the same activities, one set of people are bored with the routine while others are happy and exhilarated because of the energy and passion we pour into it.

Making progress is the definition of happiness. What does a patient want to hear from the doctor? “You are getting better Ms. Jones”. What does an employee want to hear from an employer: “You are making good progress Mr. Jones.” Happiness is all about making incremental progress. If you spoil your child and provide an expensive automobile and access to all the luxuries of life, your child will be doomed to unhappiness as he or she will have nothing to look forward to with joy and will be unhappy as they cannot keep up with the lifestyle to which they are accustomed. A millionaire losing a thousand dollars in unhappy. An employee receiving a $100 raise on a $10,000 salary is happy. “Best is good but better is best.” (Lisa Greenwald) Don’t indulge every whim even if you can afford it. Leave room for improvement---forgo something. All human beings love to make progress and interestingly, we are happier making progress up the summit than after reaching the top of the mountain. I told my youngest son that the highest prestige he will ever enjoy was being a medical student. Now that he has graduated, he is just another doctor.

There is no more happiness than a recovered patient, a deaf mute who has discovered his hearing and his voice, no more joy than sight to the blind. There is magic to the words, whether it is a sudden catharsis or actual vision: “I can see! I can see!! I can see!!!” Without having gone blind, what if you woke up each morning and scream: “I can see! I can see!! I can see!!!”

“Happy people are more altruistic, more productive, more helpful, more likable, more creative, more resilient, more interested in others, friendlier, and healthier. Happy people make better friends, colleagues, and citizens. I wanted to be one of those people. I knew it was certainly easier to do good when I was happy. I was more patient, more forgiving, more energetic, more lighthearted, and more generous. Working on my happiness wouldn’t just make me happier, it would boost the happiness of the people around me.” (Gretchen Rubin)

"There comes a time in your life, when you walk away from all
the drama and people who create it. You surround yourself with
people who make you laugh. Forget the bad, and focus on the
good. Love the people who treat you right, pray for the ones
who don't. Life is too short to be anything but happy. Falling
down is a part of life, getting back up is living."(unknown)

It also helps that I live in the third happiest place on earth. I have contemplated why, among the poverty, the limited opportunities, crime and violence, why Jamaicans are happy. I believe it is our sense of gratitude. We are happy and grateful that no matter what comes, we survive. And yet we rise! But at 68 years old, like Robert Frost: "I have promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep." And I will be happy doing it as I persist, in my own way, to making this world a better place. My life is a testimony that “...His favor is for a lifetime...”(Psalm 30:5)

Woodlands is not what it Used to be.

2011-01-17T16:01:00.000-08:00

Basil Waine Kong

I grew up singing “God Bless Our Gracious Queen” at all public events and left Jamaica in 1959 at the tender age of fifteen, lived in the United States for fifty years and returned in 2008 singing “Eternal Father, Bless our Land”. While I was away, I visited about twenty times, the first ten times to visit family but after the migration to England coupled with the Manley era migration in the 1980's to England, Canada and the United States, we didn’t have family to visit, so we stayed in hotels. My ten acre farm in Woodlands limps along without the vigor of the old days when we regularly harvested yams, coco, dashine, coffee, pimento (cloves), cassava, breadfruit, ackee, bananas, carrots, cabbage, corn, peas as well as raised cows, pigs and chickens. Unlike American farms that specialize in one product, we have always tried to be self sufficient and grow a little of everything. Now, instead of cane, however, I grow Dukane, a nuisance plant that sucks up the water in my pond. The property is nevertheless beautiful to the eye and restful to the spirit.

No history of Jamaica will include any reference to Woodlands and you will not find it on any map but you can find it in my soul. The world may be ignorant of it’s existence but everyone here knows everyone else as well as their dogs, cows, goats and even their chickens. In the old days, social friendliness prevailed. Five hundred little houses dot the mountainsides and our people live in peace and tranquility remote from the troubles of the world that they occasionally read about in week-old Gleaners that make their way to our village by those who had gone to "Town" (Kingston). We build our homes where we can enjoy the stately panorama but more importantly, to see approaching friend or foe in time to either run to greet them or flee. All our roofs are covered with sheets of zinc. We love nothing more than snuggling in our beds in a rain storm. The romantic platter-platter is joy to our souls and food for our libido. As dark clouds gather overhead we would often head for our beds and snuggle down into our banana leaf matresses even in the middle of the day.

We are awakened by an orchestra each morning. The cock crows, the birds sing, the donkey brays, the cows moo and the goats bleep. We also retire from a day’s labor with sunsets whose image linger long after dark accompanied by a cacophony of the chirping of frogs, the tweet of insects, the occasional barking of dogs and the cool breeze rustling leaves.

In Woodlands, the day begins early for women. From infancy to old age, from sun up to sundown, the women do most of the work. There is no job description or salary as they go about doing whatever needs to be done to keep their families strong. They dig, plant, weed, harvest, prepare the meals, get down on their knees to scrub and polish the floors, wash and iron, sew on the buttons, dawn the socks, mend the clothes and bear children as well as the heavy burdens on their heads on a catta of banana leaves. This may be ten gallons of water brought from the parish tank or a large basket full of vegetables to market. She is not required to work more than sixteen hours per day except when her man needs her which he does often.

The women of Woodlands District are strong (trong) and waste no time fretting about the yoke on their backs even when they are bent over, ached, racked with pain and become bruised. They will not even take an asparin. While she is unacquainted with even the basic necessities of daily life and unadorned with fancy clothes and jewelry, the love and dedication she feels for her family and community is genuine, earnest, sincere and occasionally enthusiastic, providing the wind beneath their wings and an umbrella when it rains. They use every opportunity to elevate the members of our community physically, morally and spiritually—no one goes hungry. There is plenty of pain and suffering here but it doesn’t last. It just makes the joy of good times that much sweeter. Get to know any one of them and you will find something to respect, something to admire and something to love. And when they reach the pearly gates of heaven,, the angels will welcome with songs of praise and God will utter the familiar words: “Well done, good and faithful servants. Come in and claim your reward.” If it wasn’t for our women, the population would perish. They deserve to be cherished, offered encouragement, sympathy, love and our affection.

The men of woodlands were straight and honest and their dealings with his countrymen were fair. His word was his bond in commerce. An honest day’s work for an honest days pay. After the big men in the community went off to England, the young people were without guidance. In Africa, when young male elephants grow up without the influence of Alpha males they become unruly renegades.

In old times and now, men are often seen in the mornings making their way to work their ground an hour away wearing water boots, a crocus bag over their right shoulder containing a pot, some pork to fry and flour to make dumpings for lunch in the field. We didn't eat salads or raw vegetables. On the left shoulder, they carried the tools of their trade, a pick axe, a fork and a hoe. In their right pocket, money and a knife and in their left pocket, a handkerchief to whip the sweat from their brow and to strain the water they drink. Out of these plots of land that sometimes contain more rocks than dirt, they bring home a harvest of carrots, corn, cabbage, scallions, tomatoes and peas (beans)that they would sell in New Market, Montego Bay and Kingston. The Animals they raised were sold when school fees were due or to buy a major purchase like a radio that ran on a car battery or a kerosene fueled refregerator.

Our joy came from talking on a veranda, on the side of the road, in the shade of a tree, leaning against a post, sitting down with a cup of tea or to accompany any meal. And when the curtains are drawn and the day shuts down, whispering sweet nothings after dark. We all talk, tell jokes, tease each other and laugh, gesticulating with our hands, moving our heads up and down to agree and from side to side to disagree. We are a contentious people with strong opinions and we make our points come alive with persuasive gestures. We could also win arguments by revealing that it was "written" and everyone knew that if it appears in the Bible, a book or the Gleaner, it was unquestionably true. Talking was the epitome of our pleasure. We love to keep company. As I travel around the world, this is one of my Woodlands qualities as I start up a conversation with whoever is at hand. I have never met a stranger.

Ninety nine percent of Americans have never killed an animal for food. Some years ago, a surveyor asked a sample of Americans where meat and milk came from and they answered: "The Supermarket"! Kingston Ginalds fall into that category as well. I am going to guess that all country boys grew up knowing how to test if a chicken is about to lay and egg, milking cows and goats, hunting birds, watching chickens run around with their heads cut off, cows falling after being poled in the back of their necks, goats hanging by their hind legs with their life blood draining from them and pigs being stabbed in the heart. I was asked some years ago if everything went to hell, could my family and I survive in the wild. I have no doubt that I could and it would not just be from eating berries. Growing up in the country taught us survival skills. My cousin, Presley, says he always grow some callaloo as he believed that if he had to, he could live on it for a long time (cooked or raw).

If I had fallen asleep fifty years ago and recently woke up, I would find that Woodlands District has mostly gone backwards. Under the rural development initiative of Prime Minister Michael Manley, most people in our district now has access to electricity but they pay dearly for it. Many people have computers and cell phones are a necessity for immediate access to friends and relatives near and far. Thanks to the policies of the wireless companies, there is no cost to those receiving calls, only the caller is charged. So, the Grannies of Woodlands can keep in touch with their children and grand pickney dem who are living in town or foreign. Some people returned from England and built large “Been to” houses and own automobiles. The beautiful new road from Mocho to Springfield thru Woodlands is a gift from whatever Gods may be. I smile broadly whenever I make the right turn from Mocho. We suffered through an eternity of extremely bad roads and now it is smooth sailing on Barba Green. May Allah be praised.

The ”been to” people (who spent time in England, 'merica, and Canada) are now highly invested in community development but they pay a tremendous price because they have returned to Jamaica without their children and grand children. My 89 year old mother lives in Atlanta and I have four children and six grandchildren scattered across the United States. Every few weeks, we “must” attend a graduation, a wedding, a birthday, anniversary, Thanksgiving, a recital or school related performance, as well as other important family occasions that we never miss. It isn’t easy balancing these obligations with life in Jamaica. My wife and I also love to travel to distant shores and I continue to visit four countries per year but eventually I want to just come home to rest my bones in my island home. After visiting 100 countries, with all our woes, “no where no better than yard.” And if Woodlands District only had a golf course, "no where in Jamaica would be better than Woodlands."

In 1958, I was the Boy’s Sports Champion at Springfield All Age School and Ms. Erma Cameron was the Girls’ Champion. A year later, I left for ‘merica and she went to England where she became a sales assistant. We have both returned but to her credit, she built a house in Woodlands and I am living in Kingston. She is now prominent in Church and Community affairs as well as my trusted friend. My friends (Garnett and Carolyne Myrie) also built a beautiful home where Stephanie and I sleep over when we visit. I was most sympathetic for Miss Erma's situation as she built her house next to a gentleman who believed he was a radio DJ and blasted her with his loud music night and day. He stubbornly refused to cease being a nuisance even after the District Constable was called a dozen times about it. They finally confiscated his equipment. My Aunt, Myra McDonald, migrated to the United States soon after I returned to Jamaica and is now residing with her children in Pennsylvania and Texas. I hope these two events were not connected.

So happy were my people to greet me back home, eagerly reminding me of the role they played in my broughtupsy. I gloated as they reminisced about what I was like as a little man and indulged myself in whatever was offered, a glass of cool water, a drink of rum, a piece of cake, curry goat, lemonade made with sour oranges, fruits picked from trees in their yard. I couldn’t get enough. As I went from house to house to visit, it was one sensation after another as my teeth were never idle. So much food was offered, I was afraid I would leave a famine behind. They were all in grateful remembrance of the kindness of my Granny and fond memories of the two half china pickney dem (Basil and Earl).

After 50 years, I could readily imagine the grove of trees from the stumps remaining. So, I ask: "How are things?" and the persistent response is: "Everything run down to nutten." I was looking at mere fragments of the old days and delighted in conjuring up the luster of times past. The kindness of the people came alive in their most vigorous, engaging and generous states. I was able to paint a landscape on a canvas that glowed with pretty pictures of my school days. The willows singing and dancing in the breeze, abundant and colorful birds chirping and darting about and every home sported a flower garden, literally a terrestrial paradise with ample supply of hibiscus, roses, red ginger, bougainvillea, heliconia, zinnias, dahlias, antheriums, lillies, marigolds and crouton.

Life in Woodlands was idyllic in the old days. It was truly egalitarian as there were no rich or poor people. While most of our food, toys, clothes and tools were homegrown and homemade, I recall (with pardonable vanity), the visits of my school mates who shared my store bought toys, gramophone and bicycle, compliments of my mother who lived in ‘merica. My brother and I had several pairs of shoes as well as pus (sneakers). We would stand on a piece of newspaper while Granny drew the contours with a pencil, cut out the size and shape of our feet and send it off to mi mumma and we got shoes in the next parcel. If they came too big, we stuffed them with paper. And when they became too small, we stuffed them with corn, filled them with water and by the next morning they would expand to a larger size. And then we would make a meal out of the corn. We wasted nothing. Many women in our community, in an effort to keep their shoes shinny and new would walk barefoot to church, wash their feet before fitting their feet back into these valuable pieces of leather. I remember Ms. Gertrude rejoicing after cutting her foot on a sharp piece of glass bottle with an exclamation of gratitude that her shoes were in her hands as her foot would eventually heal but at least she did not have to pay to repair her shoes. I hope some day, all God's children will have shoes.

Distances traveled by human feet were considerable. Riding a donkey, mule, horse or walking ten miles to Carmel Moravian Church for The Missionary Sunday Harvest Festival or three miles to New Market to shop was not taxing as it now appears that taxis and buses are now required for destinations close or far. We had a Champion Bus that ran mornings and evening but most people saved money by walking the distance talking and laughing in the company of friends and shouting pleasantries to neighbors or begging them for a glass of water as they passed. The one house that most people avoided belonged to our Obeahman who decorated his house with bones,flags of unknown origin, sticks and feathers organized for some symbolic purpose.

To light the way at night, travelers poured sixpense worth of kerosene in a bottle, stopped it up with a newspaper or cloth cork and every so often when the light would go dim, turn the bottle upside down to feed the fire. I suspect that the sharp edge that cut Ms. Gertrude's foot came from one of these bottles that often lost their necks from the heat of the flame. Flashlights were in common use but these Molotov cocktails were cheaper than batteries.

The ceremony of men who poured out a little libation on the floor to the ancestors before throwing back the rum with one gulp accompanied with a hearty ahhhh and forcefully replacing the glass on the table is a delightful memory. The white dresses and headscarfes of the Pocomania women and their vigorous singing accompanied with drums and homemade tambourines creates a memorable tapestry. They struck fear in our community by making predictions about impending deaths and disasters but it was more amazing to see them falling to the ground in a trance. It thrills me also to remember the sense of freedom I enjoyed as our roaming in search of friends, fruits in season, fire wood for our kitchens and hunting birds without supervision.

People readily and gleefully expressed love for each other. If a neighbor's cow was loose, someone would return it. If clothes were left to sun and was not at home when it rained, a neighbor would rescue the clothes. They not only minded each other's business but took active responsibility for each other. The poor and needy were never neglected.

My spirits were lifted and I felt elated smiles wrinkling my face to be back home. I even laughed uncontrollably from time to time. I exaggerate, no doubt, when I describe these indulgent memories and seeing the familiar faces. There seems to be so little that is tangible or comprehensible by anyone else who left and never returned and even those who still live there, but every step I took, every sound, every smell, everything that came to sight reminded me of these happy carefree days echoing and harking back from my youth. Could it be that I choose the most glorious of times to live in this paradise?

After one desperate story after another, however, I was overcome. I solemnly and slowly opened and closed my eyes several times fighting back my emotions but finally tore myself away reluctantly to lean against a breadfruit tree and cry for my beloved country. I recognized that the present reality was closer to perdition than the heaven I knew. There was little in the present that resembled the life of ease, simplicity and the culture I knew. Desolation, desperation and misery were everywhere. Not only have almost all my heroes and sheroes permanently departed or moved, all around me were evidence of brutal poverty, leaky roofs and crumbling structures and no convenient conveniences.

While dancehall music blared from every shop, no one played any musical instruments and there are no Saturday night dances. They no longer dressed up and assemble on Sunday afternoons to visit, enjoy the sight and the fragrance of flowers in each other’s yard, eat ice cream and cake, drink cane and carrot juice as well as coconut water. In this moment, I am again smelling the fennel, mint, kuss kuss, orange blossoms and fever (lemon) grass that never fails to intoxicate my senses.

I encountered only one other school mate from Springfield All Age School six form class (1958). Other than Miss Erma, my other friends from my youth were all seeking their fortunes elsewhere. Unfortunately, this classmate (Egbert) was the one boy with whom I had several school yard fights over what I cannot remember. I remember squaring off in a boxing position uncertain as to whether to proceed to blows but not knowing how to get out of it. Some trouble maker was bound to pick up some small stones and intimidate one of us into knocking the stones out of his hands and get on with the fight. "Hot pepper,hot pepper, box and touch." Our fight stopped when my younger brother who was more strapin than I entered the fray and humiliated him on my behalf. But here we are fifty years later full of cheerfulness. We recognized each other simultaneously, hugged and no animosity existed between us. As he was gazing with a lecherous eye at the rum bar across the street I invited him to have a drink with me. We were joined by others and we continued to wet our whistles.

I drank Red Stripe beers and he ordered “John crow Batty”. The bartender explained that it is the raw over proof rum that employees at the Appleton Estate poured into their water boots or soak in crocus bags, walk out of the factory and later poured into basins and then into old bottles, stinking feet notwithstanding, to be shared with friends or sold to their local rum shops.

Egbert and I recalled our school days and what so and so were doing and where they lived. Mostly the answer was: “Dem gone foreign and never come back.” He had stuck with farming and went to ‘merica to do farm work. While he never married, he had fathered four children. When I explained that I had retired and returned to Jamaica to live. He thought this was incredulous and asked most sincerely: “Are you mad? Everyone in Jamaica is trying to get the hell away from this God forsaken country and you come back. You are mad.”

The same way john crow batty wiped away the stench from stinking toes, time healed our disagreements and we only spoke about the good times, our athletic contests and even when he beat me at ping pong with the sand paddles on the table we built and painted under the direction of Ronald Essen, the woodshop teacher. He regretted that children no longer had manual training and learn carpentry. After an hour, we parted with a sincere good bye and a promise to keep in touch.

The people I visited used to laugh so spontaneously and found humour in everything. They were now sullen and beaten down with the hard life. Unruly children dressed in rags reminded me of sack cloth and ashes, the young men were weighted down by hopelessness and blighted dreams, older men, tired from unrequited toil, burdened down with the present and indifferent to the future with no hopes or interests, and crippled old people with no visible means of support or the kindness of neighbors. I emptied my wallet and pocket in an attempt to correct this injustice to no avail either as a remedy or a relief on my conscience.

We even had our first violent crime. The adorable, generous and community minded Ms. Kareen Lawson who made a success of herself in 'merica and was coming home for Christmas (2008)with great joy in her heart. Unfortunately, she was followed as she departed Montego Bay Airport in a rented car loaded with presents for family and friends. When she stopped at Woodlands Crossroads to greet family, the criminals alighted from their car with guns and demanded that she surrender her car with all the presents. When she adamantly refused, they shot her and took the car. She returned to the United States paralyzed and broken hearted, but could not stay away from the love of her family, so she returned and the community made up for it with all the love they could muster. It is a sad story but at least the perpetrators where not from Woodlands.

Although St. Elizabeth is the breadbasket of our country because of our rich soil and abundant rain, we are without commerce or manufacturing. Other than remittances from loved ones abroad, day labor, selling fruits and vegetables and raising a few chickens, pigs, goats and cows, there were no other tangible means of support. A man confessed that couldn’t read or write because his father told him that he only needed to know how to dig a yam hill to get by, except now he cannot find any land to plant his ground. I cursed our government for neglecting these basic needs of our citizens and yet they survive---some even thrive. I promise to keep on protesting and make personal sacrifices to better their condition.

In days of old, when darkness descended, we lit the kerosene lamp, wiped the soot from the previous night with a piece of old Gleaner and placed the “Home Sweet Home” glass shade back in the prongs around the flame. Earl and I then went out to Mass Claudie’s shop for our favorite beverage, to hear the latest jokes, listen to the Telefunkin radio that was tuned to a station in New Orleans. This was our introduction to Rock and Roll. We played dominoes or a card game we called All Fours (“High, Low, Jack, Game”). We didn’t have dice so we used broken porcelain dinner plates and made one inch rounded chips that were blank on one side and the flowers on the other. We took turns throwing them on the ground like dice. The winner at each turn was the player who showed the most flowers. On our way home from the shop, we carried a nip of brandy that Granny before she went to bed.

The beds my brother and I slept in were so lumpy we had hill and gully rides throughout the night. We moved the dried banana leaves around and simmered down until we felt the filling hugging us. Sometimes we could find the exact spot we left from morning. It was so cozy we did not need a blanket. We awoke snuggled in our nest as soon as the cock crowed, got up totally refreshed and feeling frisky. We joined Granny on our knees beside the bed for our morning prayers, used the two seat toilet before bathing together like naked birds in the water that had collected in the wooden tub that we pretended was a boat.

It is worth noting that Granny insisted that we pray five times per day---when we wake, before we go to bed and before each of our three meals. This was also enforced at school where we sang praises to the Almighty before and after school as well as before and even after lunch. For our morning and evening prayers at home Granny insisted that we bow our heads and be on bended knees beside our bed with clean hands and a pure heart. "Ask God to grant you anything you want but remember that he sometimes punish us by granting our request." As we would raise from repeating the Lord's Prayer, she would sing a song of praise but we would run along while her singing continued. What a wonderful privilege we have to this day to bring everything to God in prayer and to be particularly reminded that: "The Lord is my Sheppard, I shall not want..."

While we took our bath beside the house, both men and women would walk through our yard and we felt no embarrassment or modesty being naked before them. Not far away, Granny would throw corn to the chickens and their heads would bob up and down as they filled their craw and cooed to each other. Throughout the day, Granny would check if a hen would lay an egg that day. They would spend the day scratching for worms and otherwise swallowing pebbles and anything else that was shiny. When they were killed for Sunday dinner, my brother and I would anxiously cut into their gizzards to see what strange objects they had swallowed.

For breakfast, my favorite was a hunk of corn pone and hot milk. Granny made the best corn pone with bits of chewy coconut. She baked it in a Dutch pot with piles of hot coals on top and bottom. Each time she baked, she would remark: “Hell a top. Hell a bottom. Hallelujah in the middle”. We always got a thrill out of her repeating that. While the hot scald milk was a constant as children were not allowed to have coffee, it was either accompanied by hard dough bread, Johnny cakes, bullahs, hard or soft boiled eggs that she served in little egg cups, ackee and salt fish. On Saturday mornings, we got corn meal porridge (pap) with condensed sweet milk. For lunch, we had the rest of the porridge that had congealed. We turned it upside down to appreciate the shiny bottom.

I happen to believe a Village Chief, “Big Man” or Don is not only needed but desirable. My model was Mass Claudie McDonald (my uncle) who was the big man of the community. He was a tremendous resource. He owned the “Shop” in Woodlands that served as the center of the life of the community. When politicians (regardless of party) gave speeches, he provided the Tilley lamp and the space. Every Sunday evening, an evangelical church met under the eves of the shop with their spirited songs and sermons. The cricket club met in the storage room sitting on crocus bags that were full with dried pimento and coffee and sewed shut with a long curved needle and coarse thread.

Men bought drinks in the bar to share the latest news and to socialize. He had the only public toilet in the district. When some of the young men from Woodlands migrated to England and sent back to tell the others that there were jobs waiting for them, it was Claudie McDonald who bought their land or whatever they wanted to sell to make up their fare. He also loaned money to several who promised to re-pay him as soon as they got paid in England. No one reneged on these promises. The most important service he provided, however, was advice. Even though he only had an elementary school education, he was respected as a man who “knows things” and what he didn't know, he could decipher. He acted as a mediator for the purchase and sale of livestock and property and knew the exact contact if anyone from Woodlands wanted to do business with someone in Kingston, Montego Bay or anywhere throughout the Island. It helped that his wife ran the "Woodlands PA" Postal Agency.

Without telephones, cell phones, e-mail or even messengers, this informal network of “Big men” from each community served not only their economic interests but those who they chose to favor with this access. No employer would give a job to anyone without the recommendation of one of these Dons. Dr. Hibbert owned two drug stores---one in New Market and the other in Springfield where he lived. He and his wife Jemima could cook up a concoction for every disease from the 1,000 jars of herbs in his shop. They also made wonderful wedding cakes. Their daughter (Grace Darling Hibbert)migrated to England and had the distinction of serving as a pilot in the Royal Air Force. Other big men I knew included Amos Kirlew from Backstreet, Lenny Miles in Santa Cruz, John McKenzie in Mile Gully in Manchester, Lynn Salmon and Noel Black in Springfield, Mr. Cummings in New Market, Sidney Hamilton and Charlie Baby in Bottom Roads.

Mass Claudie not only gave a paradise plums to all the pickney who stopped in the shop, he gave store credit for groceries as well as a cool drink of water for travelers. In fact, for six pence (fifty dollars), a traveler could buy two ounces of sugar, pick a sour orange out back, make delicious lemonade and either have a bun with an ounce of cheese or bread with butter. For about a shilling, you could buy a can of sardine or salmon and even a tin of bully beef spiced up with free scotch bonnet or bird pepper from a trees under the window of the shop. You could also buy a bulla or hard dough bread by the slice.

In the 1950s, before the great migration to England, we could lively up ourselves with Saturday night dances with Herbie Arnold’s Rumba Band (with Neri Myrie, John Bishop playing guitars, James Smith strumming the banjo while Wepi and Little Man took turns with the Rumba Box), Pinnock’s domino tournaments and even cock fights sponsored by Jancrow Can. We had regular cricket matches with Captain Mills at the helm.

I clearly remember the match against New Market when this batter was abusing us against the best spin bowling of Bra Bone (Joslyn Mills) and Herbie Arnold, the fast bowler. Neville Cameron's balls were described as "living fire." Just as we began to feel let down by this amazing batsman from Newmarket, Bunny (Erthan Billings) caught a well hit ball close to the boundary up on the hillside close to the bamboo grove, I believe you could have heard the shouting and celebration up at church yard a mile away. Sidney Curlew hit a six over the wall that fell in Mass Austin's ground (dashine and Coco). Ronnie McKenzie caught a ball on the slip. Cortney Phillips didn’t break the egg but Austin Heron, Little Man, Bertie Barrett, Alto Farqueson, Samuel Cameron, Basil Cameron and Arthur Blake scored about ten runs each to beat New Market. When we won, they were all heroes and the women denied them nothing. The home team treated the visitors to all the beer they could drink as well as curry goat and white rice. These treats were all paid for by the profit Mass Claudie made from the paying customers. White overproof run, three dagger rum and Redstripe Beer flowed freely. So was hot green tea! There was no drinking age so I not only working in the shop selling liquor but drank with the men when I was only twelve.

The after cricket dance was held in a temporary dance hall with a dirt floor, coconut bows and bamboo sides under the stars. Herbie Arnold and the rest of the band changed from their white cricket uniforms to colourful shirts to lick the music all night long. I remember taking turns playing the rumba box but I din't last as it hurt my fingers.

When I think about it, I am actually amazed that a small village in the most rural part of Jamaica could have been so organized and advanced. The secret was our cricket team. Many larger towns like Springfield, Donogal, Brighton, Mocho did not have an organized cricket team with all the equipment and expertise like Woodlands. Outstanding athletes like Little Man, Spirit, Ronnie Ferguson, Bertie Barrett, Amos Smith, Mass Hugh Cameron, Georgia and Uncle Paul Ferguson, Aston Heron and Edwin Goodin, who was so engaging, everyone just called him “Polite”. Even Uncle Claudie tried but had limited ability. The glue that held it all together was a highly respected old gentleman who was loved by everyone. Captain Mills arranged for all the games as far away as Success, Round Hill, Brooks Park, Balaclava, Ipswich, Santa Cruz, Wales Pond and New Market, conducted practice, kept records and was an inspiration for the entire community in his quiet assertive manner. Cricket meetings strictly followed Roberts Rules of Order and he never had to raise his voice.

It is worth telling that when we went on a cricket outing to Lucie, we came back with one more passenger. Pinnock met a woman (Sybil) at the social after the match and he talked her into moving back to Woodlands with him. She fell in love, went home, packed her clothes in a wicker basket, got on the truck and ended up in a happy, successful marriage, producing a daughter they named "Miss P". Wedding bliss lasted until Miss Sybil died forty years later and he followed her to a grave beside her two years after. In addition to running a shop, they organized domino tournaments, Saturday night dances; farmed, owned a Leland Truck that hauled the cricket team as well as the farmers and their loads to market in New Market, Montego Bay, Black River and even Kingston.

I was a member of the Boys Brigade Cricket Team, I can still feel the joy of the one six I hit in a game against the Boys Brigade in Maggoty. The ball went to my left and instinctively, I turned and caught the ball just right and it sailed over the boundary. The thrill of that knock has remained and I am reminded every time I attend a cricket match and even with the mention of the word “cricket”. Unfortunately, I was bowled out by the very next ball. In golf, we call it a PBSU, “Post Birdie Screw Up”.

In those days, only Minister Hayden Todd had a car. Half the boys packed into the car while the other half started walking for our twenty mile journey to play cricket. The first group was let off at the fifteen mile point and Minister Todd would return to pick up the group who were walking at the ten mile point and take them to the destination and on the way back, the groups would reverse the process. As the car passed the group who had been driven the first leg of the trip, I hopped onto the back of the car and held on for dare life. Somehow, Rev. Todd, realized I was there, stopped the car and with his face turning a bright red with anger cursed me with his British ascent. I don’t understand exactly what he said, but he was not thinking kind thoughts about me.

Children had free access to all the fruit trees in our community. Mother Blake had the juiciest, sweetest and largest tangerines. Ms Edna Wright was famous for jackfruit as well as her three beautiful daughters. Mango was abundant so we spent many hours seeking out the crusty ones that were the sweetest. Mass Benji had a forest of guava that ended up as guava jelly. He had 400 acres, so star apples, sweet cup, June plums, rose plumbs, neaseberrys as well as a pond where we went to splash and even learned how to swim. We were forbidden to go back to the pond after one of our friends drowned when he got entangled in the bamboo that had fallen into the pond. Since we knew nothing of the germ theory or micro organisms, the cows and all of us drank the cool shade tree water we swam in. As much as I have traveled through Africa, South America and Asia, I have never had intestinal issues because of the bacteria already present in my stomach.

Our click included Hiram Woodstock, Lynval Coke, Sylvester Meir, Elaine Lyons, Faye James, Branford Roy Robinson and Ruby Stewart, who later married. My limited information on their whereabouts tell me that they are all well off but not necessarily happy, because, for economic reasons, they are living in the various corners of the globe. I was traveling through Miami ten years ago and listening to a radio show about insurance. The very elegant host was “Mr. Roy Robinson”. As he gave the number to call for more information, I called and it turned out to be the same Blanford. We met for lunch and had a delightful time. He was a big success with his own insurance firm. Unfortunately, he and Ruby had divorced.

When I attended Madison High School in the United States, I ran the risk of never going to college because I was judged to have excellent skills working my hand in wood. Half the shed across the road on Springfield Moravian Church property, was used to house the horses that the men rode to church or when Mrs. Billings rode her white horse to school. The other half served as our wood shop. Under the supervision of Mr. Ronald Essen, we learned to saw, plane, sand, fit joints, glue, nail, varnish, made breakfast trays, picture frames, shields to award to winners of various contests, tables, chairs, bed frames and even doors and windows. We even made our own ping pong table that was a great source of enjoyment for all of us. So, while I average in my academic subjects after I moved to the United States, I was the most outstanding student in wood shop. So, my guidance counselor advised me to develop this talent and apprentice with a carpenter who she knew. I obsessed over this decision, but because I had set a 440 record, Simpson College in Indianola, Iowa offered me a track scholarship. So, I decided to go to college. Even though I love the smell of cedar and the beauty of Blue Mahoe, I have not used a saw or planed a piece of wood since then.

Morning Report (Digging Match or Morning work) was a special day in Woodlands. When a man wanted to plough and box his land for planting carrots, cabbage or Irish potatoes, instead of paying labourers, he invited all the men in the community to morning report and hire a singer man who kept the men in rhythm with digging songs like: "Draw Mattie out of bush mouth." "Gal and Boy down a manual road to brock rock stone. Brock them one by one. Brock them two by two." "Day O, Day O, Day da light and me wan go home", and "Chi Chi Bud Oh. Some a dem a halla, some a bawl". "Baba Ramgoat Oh, Baba deya."The women cooked corn meal dumplings the size of cartwheels, fried corn pork, dasheen, yam, bananas as well as fry up salt fish with callaloo which would be served on Banana leaves. The children served the water and everyone dipped in the pail and drank from the same tourine. After the work was done, tired and satisfied, they would marvel at what they could accomplish when they worked together.

Among the industries in our community was a wet sugar factory around Friendship (Just beyond Shields's Pon.) Mass Aston Curlew and Captain Mills bought Euba cane from others in the district, gathered them in big piles, prasup his mule to the grinder and sent him blindfolded around endless circles while he jammed the sugar cane between the two large steel rollers. The greenish cane juice extracted in this way would run down into barrels creating a white foam on top. If we were luckey, Mass Aston would allow us to dip up some of the cane juice and drink all we wanted. After a while, we would be staggering around from the sugar high. The cane juice was transferred to the big copper pots with a big fire with the dried cane trash that he called bagasse. He constantly skimmed the fraught and stirred the juice until it became thick. Again, this wet sugar would be a treat as Mass Aston would let us dip up some when it cooled. He even had some ginger to mix with the wet sugar. He would pour the wet sugar in used and washed up “kerosene” or butter pans and take it to New Market to sell on Wednesdays or Saturdays where he would sell it by the quart for one and six. The factory ended with Mass Aston’s death and there is now no sign of this once thriving enterprise.

So, in addition to the carpentry shop run by the Myrie Brothers, the sugar factories run by Mass Austin Curlew and Captain Mills, the leather tanning operation by the Bromleys, and the building expertise of Chiphus and Clif. Banton who built water tanks and houses that are still standing after our many hurricanes, the butcher shop run by Mr. John Johnson and Mr. Manley, the bakery owned by Mr. Harry Chen See, the cigar factory run by Ms. Euda McKenzie. We used the bark of mahoe to make rope and even made rope tobacco that Mass Claudie would sell by the inch so the men could fill their pipes and smoke it. Basil and Jimmy Graves cut trees and sawed up lumber with long saws and when the saws were no longer useful, they cut them into machetes. Mr. Alberga Robinson could turn a tin can into a coffee mug, a horse shoeing operation run by Rufus Heron and Brother Boogs, Lady Champion buses run by Victor Marshall and Charlie Smith, a truck to transport goods, ice cream and snow balls sold by Spirit on Sundays and holidays, we had a thriving community.

There is no longer a cricket pitch, no live music, no horses to race at Shield Pond and the large copper pots that boiled sugar has been sold off as antiques. While progress has been made with electricity, roads, radio, television and communications, the community has reverted to small farms. Sunday attendance at Springfield Moravian church has been reduced from 300 to 50. There are no May Poles, Merry-go-rounds or any form of entertainment except television, computer games and talking on cell phones. Unfortunately, those who remain don't even visit any more.

On my way back to Kingston, I looked out at the hectares of land which now lie dormant but, in my youth, had been packed with the lifeblood of our commnity: fruit trees and flowers, coconuts and cocoa, coffee and pimento, cows and chickens,hopes and dreams. I drove the winding road, passing reams of people whose quality of life have been deminished by the unforgiving hands of the migration of many of our gifted friends and relations, unsympathic politicians and larceny. Where have all the flowers gone?

Are our best years behind us?

You Can be poisoned by More than Ackee

2011-01-16T18:21:00.000-08:00

Wicked Plants
Cassava, Ackee and other common Jamaican plants

According to our Ministry of Health, between December 1, 2010 and January 12, 2011, there were 35 confirmed cases of ackee poisoning from hypoglycin and warned the public against eating unopened ackee. Common symptoms included vomiting and diarrhea. The public should also be warned about the other plants that we commonly encounter that are just as deadly.

I recently read the book “Wicked Plants” by Amy Stewart (Algonquin Book of Chapel Hill, 2009) and was fascinated by what the author had to say about common Jamaican plants.

Among the local Jamaican products mentioned are:
1. Cashew shells. The stain (urushiol) will cause a nasty rash. Biting on the shell to open it will produce a rash on your lips.
2. Peas (red kidney beans) when eaten raw can cause nausea, vomiting and diarrhea from phytohaemagglutinin.
3. Cassava contains a substance call linamarin that converts to cyanide in the body. The risk of cyanide poisoning can be eliminated through careful preparation that involves soaking, squeezing, drying, baking or cooking of the root. If not prepared properly, it can cause weakness, tremors, lack of coordination, vision problems and partial paralysis. When I was a child, my grandmother harvested the cassava, wash, grater and squeeze the juice out of it. She left the juice to settle into starch and poison water that was used as rat poison or to kill stray dogs. The remaining flour was dried and made into bammy or boiled like a dumpling.
4. Oleander contains oleandrin, a cardiac glycoside that brings on nausea and vomiting, severe weakness, irregular pulse and a decreased heart rate when digested.
5. Castor Bean from which castor oil is derived can cause death by ingesting as few as four seeds because it contains ricin which is removed in manufacturing when sold as a laxitive.

Consider yourself warned.

Increasing the Value for undeeded Real Estate

2011-01-16T17:52:00.000-08:00

This Land is Your Land: Creating Value out of Dead Real Estate
Basil Waine Kong, J.D.

During the past fifty years,Jamaica has been characterized by glaring inequality, an active underground economy, high inflation, a weak currency, reduced incomes, high food and energy costs, inordinate influence of Dons and gangs along with flagrant disregard for law and order. Foreign investors are few and our professionals and entrepreneurs are leaving our country with their disposable wealth, knowledge and skills to seek their fortunes elsewhere. We cannot continue to ignore this turmoil.

Every society has people who live in the mainstream, who contribute to and hold a stake in the community; and others who, by choice or circumstance, live on the margins. The "margins" of Jamaica have reached such proportions that they threaten to become the new mainstream. The rivers have swelled their banks and the single most important factor in holding back the tide is rigorous enforcement of the onership rights to private property.

I asked someone who live in one of our extra legal communities how much his family of seven pays for rent and he said they did not pay rent. I then asked who owned the house they lived in and he said he didn't know but they have been living there for over twelve years. So, how do you get power, water and sewage? "We just work it out."

It may seem like the cruelest of "proposals" to pin our hopes for social progress on private property, when any serious attempt to enforce private property in Jamaica would, in the short term, make outlaws out of nearly half of the population. But we do people who live on the margins no favors in allowing them to occupy land to which they will never have a claim or deed.

The most important vehicle for social mobility is home ownership. For most of us it is the most important asset we will ever own. It is our address, our identity. It is literally the bedrock beneath our feet. We gain equity in it. We borrow against it to educate our children, address critical health issues for our loved ones and to start a business. With any luck, we bequeath it to our children and grand children.

The single most important source of funds for new business start up for various enterprises in developed countries is real estate (one's home). In spite of their obvious poverty, if we adopted a concerted approach to establish good title (legally enforceable property rights) for property occupied by the poor, we may find that we already have the assets to rescue the country and put us on a path to prosperity. At present, real estate taxes are collected on only a small portion of the land we call Jamaica.

The energies and aspirations of the poor are waiting to be released. As much as 50% of our people are "kotching" in extralegal situations (captured lands). While the value of any given plot may not have high value, cumulatively, the value is substantial. The moment is ripe for action. Let us unleash the potential of these dead assets. There is a great deal of value in land.

The first step is to update our records and to fix ownership to every parcel of land in a formally organized computerized system certifying each owner. By accomplishing this awesome task:
1. Property owners would be vested along with the owner's right to contract for water, telephone, sewage and electrical services as well as enhancing the value of our land holdings by increasing the net of potential numbers of buyers if and when they decide to alienate (give away or sell) their land holdings.
2. Debts could be more easily collected.
3. Law enforcement would be facilitated.
4. Taxes could be collected.
5. A more accurate census could be taken that would enhance voter
registration and extend voting rights to landless or homeless citizens.
6. Delivery of mail, summons and service would be possible.
7. Property owners would be motivated to form Homeowners Associations
to enhance the value of their properties and protect value.
8. Pride of ownership would be extended to more citizens.
9. The need for bribing government officials and Dons would be greatly
reduced.

Albert Einstein taught us that there is enough energy in a brick to make an atomic bomb that could destroy a city if we only had the skills to harness and release its energy. Likewise, there is substantial potential in these shacks and dead assets if we can draw out the value and convert them to real value. Dunns River may be a beautiful river but it also generates electricity that powers manufacturing and production.

Land reform can be the platform on which the entire economy can be based. As a primarily agrarian society, it could be a tremendous boost to the economy if it then leads to increased production as the price of food is increasing rapidly not only in Jamaica but in the world.

Over the past fifty years, there has been a steady increase of citizens moving from country to Kingston and Montego Bay. This was graphically depicted in the movie: "The Harder They Come". When they arrive, legal and social barriers prevent them from acquiring legal housing, acquire training and education, obtain employment or start a business. They are more likely to work as day labourers or in the underground economy where they become easy victims of exploitation.

At tremendous cost to individuals as well as our country, our legal system is not only stacked against the poor, it is hostile. Rather than promoting the ambitions of its citizens, the poor are treated like criminals and our government purposely imposes rules and obstacles that serve to thwart their ability to make a living. We seem bent on finding a problem for every solution.

Establishing a legal business in Jamaica is a formidable business. Obtaining the right forms, filling them out, standing in lines, paying the fees and obtaining the necessary certifications to operate is a long frustrating process requiring an investment of six months of red tape even if you are a sophisticated businessman. The cost is at least a year's pay for an average worker. Most people opt out of the system and operate their business illegally. In Jamaica, a citizen cannot open a bank account without a utility bill in the person's name.

As much as our people try to do the right thing, the rigidity and cumbersomeness of our laws breaks our citizens more than they break the law. They do clandestine work and apply creative ingenious survival strategies because, without a support system or a little hand-holding, these recent arrivals to the city are hopelessly reduced to living as outlaws---outside the legal system. Residents in these communities can register an automobile, buy their driver's license, buy groceries, get their automobiles repaired, visit barbershops and beauty salons, use taxis, purchase baked goods, obtain the services of a dentist who may have never graduated from Dental School and pays no taxes. But there is a huge cost to bribe officers of the law and local "big men" for protection and the opportunity to operate their various enterprises.

Paying taxes would actually cost less and would certainly be less intimidating. Working in the underground economy, they have tremendous competition with each other but they also have to fight the government. If the system is in conflict with the way our people live, we should not be surprised that frustration, discontent, corruption, disrespect for the law, poverty and violence is the predictable outcome. It takes cunning ginalds to outwit the system just to survive.

Government allocations are never for development, training, housing or education for extralegal communities. Whatever is budgeted by the government always take the form of control---police actions, clamping down and catching criminals.

Properties change hands regularly as people get jobs and move. These transactions are not registered; do not involve lawyers or the tax office. These sales (social contracts) are either cash sales or gifts with no transfer of recorded title. Even expensive properties are bought and sold accompanied by some public gathering where the announcement is made so that "everyone" knows whose property it is. The dogs know who their owners are and the limits of their property.

The downside is that these valuable assets are commercially and financially invisible because the people occupying the property has no indicia of ownership to take to the bank for a loan to start a business or purchase an automobile.

In addition to setting up an efficient court system to establish title, my proposal is to establish macroeconomic reform in Jamaica. Let us marshal the resources at our disposal to:
1. Correct this legal failure and create a unified system that is more conducive to a productive and dynamic market economy.
2. Properly survey, map, record all the land in our country and keep our records current and accurate.
3. Research the "chain of title" to include the rights of adverse possessors (squatters rights).
4. Establish a formal property system that integrates the reality of land ownership with the legal records that give good title to people who are rightful owners.
5. Establish the property rights of extra legals.
6. Assume that if land taxes have not been paid for seven years, the property has been abandoned. (Much of our land has been abandoned by people who migrate and no longer have an interest in the property they left behind or the owners may have died and their children have no ownership interest and have taken no steps to establish ownership or to alienate the property).
7. Since our government has a history of making straight roads crooked, we need to establish a Ministry of Advocacy or a None Government Organization whose responsibility it is to:
a. Review our systems and streamline our bureaucracy to
accommodate the needs of our citizens to become legal taxpaying
entrepreneurs. (It is never enough to pass equitable laws without the will
to implement them efficiently and painlessly in the social reality of our
country. Laws and governments should serve the people).
b. Make a strong effort to communicate the advantages of becoming legal. They could, for example, openly operate and advertise their goods and services to a wider customer base.
c. A place to turn for those who are frustrated that they cannot negotiate the process of becoming legal.
d. Make these valuable assets commercially and financially visible.

Public animosity toward judges, attorney and public officials as agents of the rich could be greatly reduced. When most people obey and support the law, it is easy to enforce it against the few who break the law. But if most people break the law, it is impossible to enforce them and everyone can do what they want to do with impunity. Property ownership is the single most important ingredient for instilling respect for the law. According to Lyndon Johnson, Past President of the United States, "We can only have a law abiding society if everyone has a stake in it." Countries with wide distribution of land ownership are stable, prosperous, discourage unruly behavior, and respect for the rights of others increase.

By integrating current extra legals into our legal system, we will release the aspirations and energies of poor people by giving them a stake in the country that they will want to protect. It is time for custom and social contracts to be integrated and come under the umbrella of the formal law. This is a win, win, win for all concerned. As Jamaicans travel and learn how other societies are organized for prosperity, their frustration and bitterness will grow. On the other hand, this plan will liberate the poor and prepare them to be citizens qualified to participate in the development of the country.

The Kingston College Boys Choir

2010-12-19T21:30:00.000-08:00

Basil Waine Kong

No doubt you have heard of the Vienna Boys Choir, the Harlem Boys Choir or even the Boys Choirs of London. You may not have heard of The Kingston College Boys Choir. If you have, then your life has been enriched. If you haven’t, you are missing a treat. You haven’t heard the Handel or Bach until you have heard these boys. You haven’t truly got into the Christmas spirit until you have heard their rendition of “Hark the Herald Angels Sing”, “We Three Kings” or “Good News”. Tonight (December 19, 2010). I attended their Annual Christmas Concert at the University of the West Indies Chapel and got the Christmas spirit. I rank them first among all the great Boys Choirs from around the world. After each song, the appreciative audience stood and applauded wildly. Jamaica has done it again by developing this fabulous institution. Their voices were the voices of angels. Your Bible did not say there would be preaching or even praying in Heaven, but it does say there will be “Choirs” and I hope when I get there, it will be the Kingston College Chapel Choir!

The only small, little teenie, weenie suggestion I would make is that when the boys gesture “To the World”, I think it would be so hilarious to boldly make the Usain Bolt sign. Just a suggestion!

In addition to continually exporting Reggae, Ska, Dancehall, Calapso and Mento, let’s export this choir! I believe audiences around the world would be tremendously entertained by them and what great ambassadors these talented, handsome, well dressed high school students would be for Jamaica. This is another occasion when we do not recognize an important resource. They have been entertaining Jamaican audiences for almost fifty years!

Father Holong and his choir does well performing abroad, these boys are even better. Under the direction of Audley Davidson, the KC Chapel Choir could be international stars. I wish them well. They will be performing again on January 2, 2011 at the St. James Parish Church in Montego Bay. You will be doing yourself a disservice if you do not attend.

Our Annual Christmas Letter

2010-11-29T09:12:00.000-08:00

Christmas 2010
Basil Waine Kong

Merry Christmas from the Jamaica-Atlanta Kongs. 2010 was a banner year for us. With the addition of Hailie Christine Kong to our tribe and the graduation of Dr. Aleron Kong from Medical School, Stephanie and I thank The Great Architect of the Universe daily for our health and the well being of our children and grand children. With apologies to the younger grand children and to those yet unborn, we took three of the grand children to Disney World, Sea World and Universal Studios last summer and that was the last time I will be accompanying them on the roller coaster rides! While Mackenzie was fearless, I broke out in a cold sweat after each ride and still I rode. But never again.

I continue to enjoy my retirement and supporting Stephanie as she continues to pursue her professional interests. I never know who is going to show up on my frequent trips to the golf course, it could be 75 or 95! I have become one of those people who can say: “When I was in Nam.” We took a cruise to Thailand, Viet Nam, Malaysia and Singapore on the Silver Shadow, and gave up going to Cambodia to watch Tiger Woods play in Thailand. What an incredible journey and as usual, I have catalogued our experience on my blog.

I continue to travel back and forth to Jamaica to play golf and do a little business. I enjoy my work with the PNP helping to hash out what is best for the country and the people in Woodlands District are never far from my thoughts. They had a bad year as the storms destroyed their crops. New Market is completely flooded. I became a Freemason and have immersed myself in reading everything about its culture and traditions. My bIog has passed the tipping point with more than 15,000 hits. www.jamaicachapter.blogspot.com. I continue to promote and encourage my ABC colleagues as well as continuing to serve as President of “The Heart Institute of the Caribbean Foundation”. Please help to make cardiovascular care more accessable to Jamaicans.

Stephanie continues to practice Pediatrics and help clients in Louisiana to gear up for managed Medicaid. This schedule has allowed us to travel back and forth to Jamaica and some very good bonding time. She continues to chronicle her spiritual journey at her blog www.sojournspirit.blogspot.com and is determine to read and comment on the entire Bible. My love and dedication to this remarkable woman grows with each passing day and we are all blessed to be in her orbits. I commented to her just the other day how blessed she is among all women because her fabulously successful children have a genuine love for her. Being Stephanie, she reminded me that she only takes half the credit because they have had a GREAT role model in their Dad and it’s easy to love the Mom when there is love coming from the Dad. We do indeed have a GREAT love story.

Jill and her family continue to bloom in the dessert of Phoenix. Brooks has become quite the orator and is a spelling bee whiz. Mackenzie is now officially a teenager as she celebrated her 13th birthday this year. Most of you have seen Mackenzie grow up with us! Brian continues to be the anchor of his family and both he and Jillian continue to be generous with their home and their children. A while ago, I was ruminating about a legal question and called my daughter, (the immigration lawyer) and got the answer forthwith.

Freddie, Tracy and Kai welcomed Hailie Christine this year and Freddy turned the BIG 40! His wonderful wife Tracy threw him a fabulous surprise birthday party and went all out to ensure he knew how special he was to her and the rest of his family. Freddie also took a new position in Atlanta and is transitioning his family here. Can it really be that Stephanie and I will be able to live in the same city as one set of our grand pickney dem? Be still my heart! Kai continues to delight both his Poppop and Nanna and Hailie is right there with him.

Melanie’s business “Play Connections” is thriving as she added more staff and clients this year. Check out her web-site www.playconnections.com. Audrey is blossoming into a wonderful girl and delights in the antics of her brother Vincent. We were able to visit them in the spring and never tire of their faces. Don continues to master his skills as a brew mister and has converted his garage to the production of some good Northwest beer. I hope I am not getting him in trouble writing this. Maybe you also saw them in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade holding up Horton.

Dr. Aleron Kong is working his way through his 1st year residency in Internal Medicine. Stephanie called him for something a couple of months ago and when he answered, “This is Dr. Kong”, she had an out-of-body experience and cried. He continues to want to complete an ER residency and is interviewing as we speak. Keep him in your prayers.

My mother Violet is celebrating her 88th birthday this year (December 16)and although she suffered more than usual this year, she continues to be independent. Stephanie and I are learning how to be caretakers and I am sure as time progresses we will get better at it. We are hoping she decides to come and live with us.

As we approach 2011, Stephanie and I wish you and your family a prosperous and healthy New Year. May God continue to smile upon you and give you peace. Let His love rest, rule and abide with you forever. Happy Christmas!

Getting Ahead in Malaysia

2010-11-25T12:36:00.000-08:00

Basil Waine Kong

We arrived in Kuching, Malaysia, Thursday, Nov. 4, 2010, on the Island of Borneo which is relatively close to the Philippines and Indonesia.

There are many theories about where the name came from but most likely it was named for the fruit (mata kuching or cat’s eye resembling the lychee) that is found here in abundance. The population is about 30 million Chinese and Malays who are mostly Muslims. Yes, this was the country of blow guns and head hunters which only came to an end in the 1990s.

When we departed the ship, we were serenaded by dancing women in traditional dress handing out beads. Paris has gargoyles, Chicago has cow statutes, Canary Islands have dog statutes, and Kuching has cats. Kuching actually means cats so it has become a tourist attraction. There are cats in all colors, shapes and sizes throughout the city including a cat museum.

In 1839, James Brook, and Englishman with the help of the British Navy, subdued the natives who had revolted against the Sultan of Brunei. He and various progeny then ruled the country (The White Rajahs) for 100 years. The Japanese then captured it in 1939 and lost it again after World War 11, succeeded by Australia and back to Britain and finally to independence in 1963.

In response to a simple question about when headhunting stopped, our guide said it was outlawed in 1939 but continued until the 1990s. He was very graphic about a tribal war in the 1990s between two philosophically different groups. It appears that one tribe were the serious hard working people that got ahead. The other group I am going to call “The Manana Tribe” or “we will do it when we get around to it” people. The hard working group advanced economically, took all the available jobs and were even attracting the women from the manana tribe. This made the manana men furious and they decided that they were not going to take it anymore. This was war! Notice that they never considered becoming industrious as well. They went into the hard working group’s village and killed all the children while the parents were working away from the village and predicted that the men from the hard working group would impulsively want revenge. So, they set an ambush and were able to collect the heads of all the men from the hard working group. Unfortunately, this is a true story. I wonder what the lesson is?

Like Jamaica, Malaysians were subject to British colonial rule. The economy of the country has, traditionally been fuelled by oil and timber but they are increasingly becoming tourism oriented and in particular, medical tourism.

In order to get to the see the monkeys at feeding time (9:00 am) the first stop for our tour bus was the Matang Wildlife Center. We were privileged to see the big orangutans that looked like King Kong in the wild. They also have large proboscis monkeys but we didn’t see any. It was a long walk in a very humid climate that exhausted all of us but well worth the effort. Over 1,200 species of orchids flourish in Kinabalu National Park, home to Poring Hot Springs.

I would like to tell the people from Fern Gully (Near Ocho Rios in Jamaica)that they eat fern as a delicacy in Malaysia!Paku is a Malay word for a type of fiddlehead fern that is found in Sarawak. They like to stir-fry the ferns with belacan (shrimp paste). They also harvest the young unfurled fern, boil them in salted water 3 to 5 minutes. Toss with lemon butter, soy sauce and sesame seeds. The local rice wine (tuak) goes well with it and actually taste good together.

Our next stop is the Sarawak museum which has excellent exhibits on everything Malaysian---history, culture and industry. We are particularly fascinated by the exhibit on Malay villages (Kampungs) with the Iban and Bidayah long houses.
The proceeded to the Sarawak General Hospital for our joint scientific session and head back to the ship. There was obviously so much more we could have experienced but the visit was short and sweet. We make a promise to return some day.

Kotching in Atlanta

2010-11-22T07:41:00.000-08:00

Basil Waine Kong

I didn’t come to 'merica to stay
I only came to learn and earn a little money
To go back home to build a house, buy a car and maybe a bar
But I now have seven grand pickney here
Who don’t know the joys and have no interest in the place I call yard
I yearn for the Rock but the rock won’t have me
While I am kotching in Atlanta, my heart is in Jamaica
I don’t want to stay but I cannot go
See me daya between the sheets of the bed I made
With no idea where the grass is greener
I try to duplicate Jamaica in Atlanta but the patties are neither Tastee or Juici
I play dominoes, drink rum punch and Red Stripe Beer
I can eat escovitch fish, curry goat and rice but it’s not Cooshu’s
I can get fried fish, bammy and festival but it’s not at Hellshire Beach
I scream for run raisin ice-cream but it’s not from Devon House
I watch cricket matches but it’s not at Sabina Park
I read the Atlanta Journal Constitution but it is not the Gleaner
I enjoy all the comforts of home but it no home
I miss Mass Birtie, Mother Blake, Uncle Benji, Brother Boogs and Aunt Poochos
Greeting me with “mawnin” and “God bless you” when I share what I have with them
Sorrel and fruitcake in December only make me long for Father Christmas
I don't want a "Merry Christmas" I want a "Happy Christmas"
I can watch 200 stations on my TV but find nothing to watch
Instead of pumpkin beef soup on Saturday I now eat hamburgers and beans
Mi Belly full but mi hungry

Singapore Slings

2010-11-21T18:24:00.000-08:00

Basil Waine Kong

Jamaica is often compared to Singapore. We are both Islands that are highly dependent on tourism and enjoy fantastic weather. But as it turns out, Jamaica has ten times more land mass and a million fewer people making Singapore the second most densely populated country in the world. We also gained independence about the same time and that is about where the comparisons end. Singapore is a highly disciplined first world country with enormous wealth; while Jamaica remains one of the poorest with a third of its people unable to read.

After independence in 1965, Singapore rapidly became the fastest growing economy in the world with one of the five busiest ports. They build ships, mining equipment and heavy machinery. The IMF has no business with them. You will never find a pothole in any of their highways and streets that are beautifully decorated with flowers and other vegetation.

Singapore is the end of our cruise in the South China Sea and our port of disembarkation. This means that we are required to pack our bags and have them outside of our stateroom door by 11:00 PM the night before so that the crew can get them organized and off the ship. The passengers are given colour coded tags that will organize the timing that we use to leave the ship and clear immigration. Most of our group is given purple tags, so after breakfast and taking care of tipping our butler and our other favorite crew members, we wait for our “colour” to be called. After we clear customs, we claim our luggage which is then loaded into a separate bus and sent ahead to the Ritz Carlton. Our group is loaded into buses for a quick tour of the Singapore before heading to the hospital to continue our medical lecture series.

When our bus leave the dock, the first thing the tour guide says is: “Welcome to the City State of Singapore. We are a fine city: we fine you for everything. You will be ”fined” for spitting on the sidewalk, “fined” for littering, “fined” for jaywalking, ”fined” for smoking, “fined” for making loud noises and other lesser crimes against the state. She further joked that Singapore was so small, if you get lost, just keep walking, you will soon find the ocean and you can swim home.” She went on to say that the Rich Carlton (Ritz) is a very holy place. When you enter, you will immediately say: “Oh my God, look how beautiful everything is!” When you pay your bill you will no doubt remark: “Jesus Christ! That was expensive!.” She was a laugh a minute.

The Tour guide told us that there is no homelessness, as this is also a crime. But it is a crime with a benefit. If you do not have a home, the government will provide one for you and if you don’t have a job, the government will find one for you as well. So, there is no unemployment or homelessness. The government of Singapore is also tough on crime. In addition to the “fines”, the government also has a system of corporal punishment which includes “caning”. They budget very little to provide guards, room and board for prisoners, so caning is the prescribed punishment for many offenses including stealing, not meeting your financial obligations, sexual offenses, including rape and vandalism. They also impose mandatory death sentences for murder, drug-trafficking, and for possession of an illegal firearm. Amnesty International reported that they carry out 2 executions per month while Jamaica have had no none in over 20 years.

At the hospital, a lively exchange of ideas is well received by both the visitors as well as the doctors in residence. We learn that the citizens of Singapore contribute to a National Health Insurance fund and in turn receive the best health care in the world at no additional cost. The hospital provides a superb lunch after the educational program and we are able to exchange ideas and information with some of the local physicians.

After the lectures, a city tour is scheduled. However, we opt to be dropped off at the Ritz as we are scheduled to fly back to Bangkok in about six hours. (Twenty two years ago, Stephanie and I visited Japan and Singapore on our honeymoon.) We are joined by Dr. Jesse and Wilma McGee and the four of us imbibe Singapore slings (US$20.00 each) in the beautiful lobby bar/restaurant until it was time to depart for the Airport. The Singapore Sling is a cocktail mixed with gin, cherry heering, cherry brandy, cointreau, benedictine, grenadine, pineapple juice from Sarawak (Malaysia), fresh lime juice and angostura bitters and served over ice in a long glass. It was developed by Ngiam Tong Boon, a bartender at the Raffles Hotel Singapore before 1915. Actually, I prefer rum punch, but when in Rome, do as the Romans do.

Singapore is the closest that we have come to streets paved with gold. The high rise buildings do really scrape the sky. The glitzy part of town is the “Las Vegas of the East“ where a huge ship is balanced on three high rise hotels. This hotel/casino is very impressive and draws people from around the world. The government discourages gambling for citizens by assessing a charge of $100 US as an entry fee but free for tourists. There is no social security or welfare for the elderly as this is perceived to be the responsibility of their children. This is legally enforced as parents have a right to sue their children for support as a percent of the children's income.

I am reminded that several months ago, Dr. Wendel Abel, Head, Section of Psychiatry, University of the West Indies, wrote an editorial in which he made the following comments:

Jamaica must decide how we want to be seen by others. One of the first things the people of Singapore did before they embarked on their development was to decide how they wanted people to see them. The image that many people have of Jamaica is a bad and sad one. To many outsiders, we appear as a barbaric and disorderly people. Alcohol is sold to minors; ganja is smoked openly in public spaces; driving is reckless and undisciplined; music is played loudly; squatting is widespread and people freely litter the streets. We must now take a zero-tolerance approach to lawlessness.

So, Jamaicans are undisciplined and Singaporeans are disciplined. No one jaywalks in Singapore while in Jamaica, everyone compete with the traffic and dare cars to hit them. So, why is Jamaica the third happiest place on earth? Why doesn't Singapore win any medals at the Olympic games or have a football team that can compete with our Reggae Boys? When is the last time you heard of a new hairstyle, clothesline, song, dance move or a new musical genre coming out of Singapore. Our brethren developed the only new religion in the world in the last 200 years and produced geniuses in every field of human endeavor. Other than their discipline and economic success, make me a list of the great accomplishments for the people of Singapore.

While we could use a little discipline, do we really want to become like Singapore? Is this our model going forward or do we want to do it Jamaican style?

Good Morning Viet Nam

2010-11-16T19:02:00.000-08:00

Basil Waine Kong

We are now in Nam, some 9,000 miles from Jamaica. Our good ship “The Silver Shadow” has docked at the Harbor of Saigon early morning on Monday, November 1, 2010 after a day and a half crossing the South China Sea from Ko Samui, Thailand. By beloved wife is happy that we are finally on terra firma; Stephanie had a rough time at sea and has either been sea sick or drowsy with Dramamine. All is forgiven and forgotten as we look forward to exploring Vietnam for two days. First, the city was renamed Ho Chi Min City after the conflict in 1975. However, there are still signs with Saigon on hotel buildings and other structures. Stephanie and I decide not to take the organized tours and hang with a business associate living in Ho Chi Min City.

I e-mail Rose, our local contact who has promised to meet us at 9:30 AM on the dock. Rose doesn’t disappoint and is waiting for us as we disembarked. She is extremely gracious as we introduce ourselves as well as our friends Drs. Merton and Barbara Hutchinson who we invited to join us. Merton (Hutch) is a fellow Jamaican who lives in Maryland.

We commandeered a taxi and our first stop is the main post office which was originally built during the French occupation. The structure is significant for its European style and the foyer is crowded with merchants. Stephanie buys some old stamps as well as some stamps to mail the postcards that she has written to family. We also do a bit of shopping. There is a catholic church across the street from the Post Office where a wedding was taking place. Judging by how the bride and groom were dressed up, the wedding could have been a wedding in Kingston or Atlanta. We asked to take their photograph and the bride and groom obligingly posed for us!

After the Post Office, we are off to see a Dao Cao Dai Temple (Đại Đạo Tam Kỳ Phổ Độ or just Great Religion or even that highest spiritual place where God reigns). Joan of Arch, William Shakespeare and Victor Hugo are venerated. It is a very colorful edifice. True believers (about 4,000,000 Vietnamese)wear white to attend services, pray unceasingly, honor their ancestors, practice non-violence and are vegetarians. Men and women enter their Temple using different entrances. Like the Masons, they too have the all seeing eye (Holy See) as their symbol. Their goal is to join God in Heaven when they leave this life. They played an important role in the resistance to President Diem’s government in the early days of the conflict during the Kennedy years. President Diem, as you may remember, was assassinated in 1964 by his Generals.

Our next stop is the war museum or the Museum to American Aggression located in what was the Presidential Palace. Captured American helicopters, planes and tanks litter the yard and the interior of the museum is dedicated to the effects of bombing with Agent Orange as well as the painful detail that chronicles the 10,000 day war with the United States. France had lost about 100,000 soldiers before the United States entered the conflict with 500,000 soldiers. The US eventually rotated some 8,000,000 US soldiers during the conflict. The US eventually lost fifty seven thousand (57,000) soldiers with an additional 10,000 returning as amputees.

The totals on the Vietnam side of the ledger are a bit grimmer. Out of a population of seventeen million people, two million died, not including an additional two million who perished from starvation and from treatable medical conditions that could not be treated due to the war. North Viet Nam (The Viet Cong) survived 350,000 bombing raids dropping 8,000,000 tons of bombs (three times the amount used in World War 11). In the process, the United States lost 3,700 planes and 5,000 helicopters and 8,000 pilots.

We stopped for lunch in a very western four star restaurant where they bake rice bread in clay pots. One waiter breaks the clay pot, releasing the bread on one side of the room and tosses it across the room like a Frisbee where it is caught on a plate by another waiter. The food is excellent and as we are joined by a language professor who was invited by our tour guide. He spoke excellent English and was able to clarify several historical facts for us.

The language professor was a colonel in the South Vietnamese army. As it turns out he was trained in the United States but left behind on that fateful day in 1975 when he was not able to be accommodated on one of the last helicopters that left the roof of the American Embassy. He tried to blend into the population but the Americans had kept detailed records of all soldiers in the South Vietnam Army on computers that fell into the hands of the victorious North Vietnam Army. So, he, along with 200,000 military officers was sent to re-education camps for two years. He said they were just prisons. He has made several attempts to migrate to the United States without success. I asked him about the United States and he was ambivalent. “On the one hand, the United States is a great country that never understood Viet Nam. Throughout the history of our country, we have always struggled against superior foreign invaders and repelled them. We also have a history of moving on and not belaboring our struggles. Cambodia, United States, France, Japan and China are now wonderful trading partners and the quality of our lives has never been better.”

Our immediate impression is that the city is a marvel with busy streets and modern building. Motor Cycles and mortar scooters are everywhere. Business seems to be booming and seem very capitalistic.

We then took a five hour tour of the Mekong Delta. On our way, we marvel at the fertile plains with rice, bananas and other fruits and vegetables. We noticed that Mekong is a bustling city as we make out way to the Warf. We rent a boat and a captain who gives us coconut water and deliver us to the other side of the river were locally made products are displayed for sale. Everyone is friendly and we especially enjoyed the five piece band with two female singers. They were actually not bad---I actually felt something. We took longboats rowed by women down one of the canals that emptied back into the river where our other boat was waiting for us. We just imagined American soldiers wading through these canals with their guns above their heads. We made our way back across the river as the sun was setting and got some lovely photographs. Before boarding our bus to return to ho Chi Min City, we saw about 100 ladies doing aerobic dancing to American music at the community center.

On our return, Rose offered massages at a Parlor she is familiar with. After working on five of us for an hour, the charge is $10.00 per person. They asked how much it would cost in the United States and we estimated $100.00 per person.

We got back to the ship at 9:00 pm tired and relaxed in time for dinner and a good night’s sleep.

The next day (Tuesday, Nov. 2, 2010) we were taken by bus to a very modern hospital (Benh Vienn Tim Tam Duc Cardiology hospital) in the more developed part of the city that was indistinguishable from Paris. We met the Vietnamese physicians, toured the hospital and listened to presentations by both American and Vietnamese scholars followed by lunch. What were most memorable were the crowded waiting rooms.

On our way back to the ship, we met our wonderful guide (Rose) who took us to the market where we shopped. The prices are very reasonable. Even so, Rose got the prices lowered even more. We get back to the ship just in time for our 4:30 pm departure for Malaysia. In parting, Rose gave us all gifts and wished us Bon Voyage! We are very grateful and a wonderful time was had by all. I can now talk about: “When I was in Nam”.

A Day At Sea on the Silver Seas Cruise

2010-11-04T17:15:00.000-07:00

Basil Waine Kong

For those of you who are contemplating a cruise, regardless of destination, here is a typical day when the ship is between destinations and you are on the deep blue sea for a day or more. On days when we are at a Port of Call, we are usually on tours during the day while the ship is docked and sails at night while we are sleeping. “Sea Days” can be pleasant or fraught with opportunities for seasickness when you just to want to lay flat as your inner ear gets accustomed (or not) to the swells of the ocean.

These cruise lines offer Wi-Fi access in each room which allows you to check emails in the privacy of your own room. Again depending on the conditions of the sea, my wife can be found checking emails while I read the newspaper while having our morning coffee.

Regardless of the sea conditions, we awake with the rising of the sun and immediately call room service for coffee that is delivered within five minutes with a copy of “USA Times”. Room service is available 24 hours per day for a beer or a full meal at no extra cost. We enjoy our coffee, go up to the gym for a workout, walk around the top deck (2 miles) and swim (in a pool), return to our room, get dressed and meet our friends for breakfast at 8:00 am. A cruise is a perfect opportunity to develop deeper, more committed relationships as the conversation never cease as well share meals or have drinks on any number of patios and observation decks.

There are two dining rooms on this ship that are available for breakfast. Our choices for our eating pleasure include a variety of fruits, breads, cereals, eggs any way you like it and ten types of fish and meats items from around the world. We point to what we want and a waiter places it on your plate and deliver them to our table. We try to exercise more than usual because our consumption of calories will easily double. The food is all very tempting. So, cruises are not the place you want to come if you are trying to lose weight.

After breakfast, we meet in the lecture hall for an educational program. While the lectures are substantial, they are over by 1:00 pm, and we are ready to eat some more. Yesterday, an Asian Feast was set up on the eighth floor which also doubles as the pool deck. We were treated to a cornucopia of cheeses from around the world and a fanfare of Asian dishes representative of China, Japan and the Indo-Asian countries. On these cruises you are also treated to desserts after each meal inclusive of pies, cakes, ice-cream (especially rum and raisin) with all the toppings, as well as fruits.

Various activities are available for the afternoon including bridge, wine tasting, cooking classes, golf lesions, dance classes, casino games of chance and a lecture about our next destination. I chose the lecture and my wife chose wine tasting and the cooking class. We meet for bridge and participate in the golf putting contest. I come in second but it is all in good fun.

We dress for dinner and it is formal night. The Captain’s reception is at 6:00 pm so we get dressed in my summer tuxedo and my wife in her backless gown and present ourselves to the Captain. The band played on and we danced and enjoyed the finger foods before joining our friends in the dining room at 7:30 pm. My wife takes the Maître D’s elbow and I follow to our table for six where we are immediately offered libations. The conversation is lively and the jokes are funny so laughter is in the air. Our drink is followed by a six course meal. For my main course, I chose duck a la orange and my wife orders beef wellington. As I had previously ordered grand Mainer souffle for desert, it is perfectly baked and served with sweet cream. After coffee, we go across the hall to the theatre for a show featuring dancing from around the world. It is delightful but as the ship is rocking (tilting), the dancers often stumble. After the show, we go down a flight of stairs to the lounge where we are treated with a piano player and a Filipino lady singing the blues.

We retire to our cabin at midnight, discuss our plans when we dock in Malaysia in the morning and fall asleep to the gentle rocking of the ship.

I remind my wife that it is not the size of the boat but the motion of the ocean. She reminds me that this term was coined by persons unaccustomed to large boats!

So, from small ships to tall ships
Here’s to all of us who sail in ships
But most of all to our friendships

From Bangkok With Love

2010-11-02T02:09:00.000-07:00

Basil Waine Kong

This is our first visit to Thailand. So, Sawatdee Krub to our male friends and sawatdee Ka to our female friends. If we were greeting you in person, in addition to “Sawatdee” we would clasped our palms together under our chin and bow slightly. There is no good morning or good night, as they ignore the time of day but wish that God will shower his blessings on you. This is called the wai. While the actions are the same, the equivalent word in India would be “Namaste”.

We departed from Atlanta on Tuesday, October 26 at precisely 9:47 am for the first leg of our flight to Seattle. Because of our incessant presence on Delta Airlines planes, each year, we accumulate enough miles for our annual two week safari to distant destinations around the world---first class! As a result, our ample seats recline to beds; we watch movies from our individual monitors as they lavish us with all the food and libations we can handle, again at no cost. They step it up on international flights and tend to our comfort including kits with toothbrushes, lotion, slippers, blankets and fluffy pillows. We will need them.

We are pleasantly surprised to find another couple who we know from previous cruises taking the same route to Bangkok and thoroughly enjoy their company. Dr. and Mrs. Roy Irons was recently elected President of the National Dental Association. This will be our twelfth cruise.

We gain three hours and arrive in Seattle at 11:00 am (five hours later). After a two hour layover that we spend in the Sky Lounge, we depart again for Tokyo, Japan on Thursday, October at 1:00 pm landing at 5:00 pm (ten hours later). Yes, we lost a day that we will get back on our trip back home when we will again cross the International Date Line. After a two hour layover at the Narita Airport in Japan, we are off again on our 6 hour flight to Bangkok at 7:00 pm and landing at 1:00 am having flown for 21 hours! After clearing customs and claiming our luggage we are surprised that we can just walk out without anyone checking our luggage or even having to turn in a declaration form. We are relieved that we immediately spot our driver who is holding up a sign with our names. He takes our luggage and accompanies us to the car we reserved.

We are impressed with how clean the streets are but we passed a road block where the police are checking drivers who may be impaired due to alcohol. We had no problem and we arrive at the Kingston Suites hotel at 2:00 pm---exhausted but exalted. We chose the hotel just so we could say we traveled from Kingston to Kingston. We are pleased with the quality of our accommodations and immediately step into the shower after two days of travel and were able to sleep for four hours. The time difference between Jamaica and Thailand is eleven hours.

A full breakfast is included in the cost of our hotel so we go down at 8:00 am and was surprised at the familiar fruits: mangoes, leeches, jackfruit, papaya, oranges, figs, strawberries, water melons, pineapples, sour sop, custard apples, rose apples, guava, and even neaseberries (sapodilla). I was, however, unfamiliar with mangostem, lampotan, dragon fruit, rambutans, durian (smells like hell but taste like heaven) and logans. We both got western omelets along with our usual coffee and croissants with orange marmalade.

We decided to take a walk just to experience the sights, sounds and smells of the city and as we depart, we are asked by the desk clerk: “pai nai?” which is a friendly “where are you off to?” To which we responded: “No where in particular. Which is the way to the city?” The usual rush hour traffic was brutal. As there are far more taxis than passengers, on our walk, we are constantly approached by taxi drivers with offers to take us on various tours. The streets are crowded with “tuk tuks” (motor cycles converted to seat six people), Japanese cars, buses, trucks, bicycles and motorcycles. Motor cycles can be taxis here and they are best for negotiating the traffic but the pas sager, usually a woman, sit sidesaddle. Unlike Jamaica, all riders and passengers wear helmets. In many ways, this is Kingston. When I left Jamaica, the authorities were struggling with vendors about crowded sidewalks and trying to get squeegee kids off the street. It is the same here. You can get a full breakfast from street vendors who cook and sell you breakfast items as well as lunch and dinner later. Like Jamaicans, Thais love soup. Instead of pumpkin, peas and pepper pot, They love the hot and spicy Tom Yum.

On our way back to our hotel, we passed the “Dream Spa“ and my wife decides to get a Thai massage. The cost is US$50.00 for 60 minutes although the cost elsewhere is advertised as low as $20.00. By the time we rendezvous back at the hotel for our 1:00 pm tour of the Grand Palace, she is glowing and absolutely relaxed from her spa treatment. She promptly falls asleep in the car.

On our way to the Palace, Tony, our guide, imparts essential data about the country and their culture. He does not speak English very well and I am obliged to ask him to repeat himself and even to spell out what he is trying to say. In a country of about 60,000,000 people, 15 million live in Bangkok, the capital. Fifty percent of the people are employed in the agricultural sector and produce 30% of the rice in the entire world!

I learn that “Korp khun mak” means thank you; “mai pen rai” or "mai mi pan ha” means no problem mon, and “Jai yen yen” means “Don’t sweat the small stuff" or “Be calm, what difference does it make?”. Unlike Jamaicans, the people pride themselves in not being excitable. They speak in a whisper and never never lose their cool. Unfortunately, the down side of their personality is that you can never tell if someone is glad to see you or not. I much prefer our haughty laugh and hug when I meet friends. The guide and driver say they are impressed that I am showing so much interest in their culture.

There is no touching in Thailand. You will never witness any public displays of affection. A man touching a woman (not his wife) even to try to shake her hand is a serious offense. Touching someone’s head is a fighting offence. So, no hugging or kissing in the street! The story is told that the palace guards were escorting a princess from one palace to another by boat when she fell overboard. Since none of the men could touch her, they watched her drown and everyone (including her father) agreed that that was the right thing to do.

They do not joke about their benevolent King who is greatly loved and revered. Thanks to shrewd maneuvering, they were never colonized. They changed the name of their country from Siam to Thailand (Land of freedom) in 1939. If you remember when the country was Siam, the movie “The King and I”, depicted a naive King Rama V, who welcomed missionaries and teachers to their Kingdom but remained independent. By the way, the movie is still censored in Thailand and our guide never saw it.

The current king, Bhumibol Adulyade, (Rama IX), who is the longest serving monarch in the world, was actually born in Cambridge, Massachusetts when his father was studying medicine at Harvard. So, he is an American citizen. He loves dogs, so no one would dare abuse them. As a result, dogs are to be found all over the country. He is also an aficionado of Jazz, sailing and photography. While the country is democratic and has a democratic parliament, every so often the King will put his food down and say: “It no go so” and will have his way. For example, when parliament outlawed "tuk tuks" because they were too polluting, these taxi drivers appealed to the King and he reversed the lawmaker's decision. You would not expect anything less as they celebrate December 5 (The King’s birthday) as father’s day. In Jamaica, you can be locked up and fined for cussing out a police officer, in Thailand, you can be charged with “lèse-majesté” for not showing enough respect for members of the Royal family. In Jamaica, many people look forward to earning Christmas money, in Thailand, the King will advise everyone: “nai nam mi pla nah mi khao” (There is fish in the water and rice in the fields."

The two dominant political parties are roughly equivalent to our own PNP and JLP. The PNP cousins wear red and are allied with those who struggle and the Yellow shirts are like the JLP,the party of the rich and powerful.

As we arrive at the Grand Palace, we encounter the unexpected. It is, indeed a grand palace that I believe is more impressive than the Vatican, the Hermitage in Leningrad, Versailles in Paris, any of the Mormon Tabernacles or Buckingham Palace. I have always been impressed with the effort that can be invested to immortalize God and King. The moment we arrived, we were awed and overused the word ‘wow” to describe one impressive temple after another. The Wat Phra Kaeo (The Temple of the Emerald Buddha) and the Wat Po (Temple of the Reclining Buddha) are particularly spectacular; I could not possibly describe this experience. You should definitely put seeing it on your bucket list. We also saw the golden Buddha that was made with a ton of pure gold and unguarded.

Exhausted from walking several miles viewing the various edifices in the compound, we ask our guide to take us to a great Thai restaurant and we would end our tour at that point. He takes us to Ban Khunmae. Both of us agreed that there are better Thai restaurants in Atlanta such as Nan’s. Common ingredients in Thai cooking are coconut milk, curry, fever grass (lemon grass), ginger, mango, chili peppers and always served with rice or rice noodles. We enjoyed the meal, walked five blocks to the sky train, got off at the Astok stop and walked five more blocks to our hotel. There was never any feeling of intimidation or concerns regarding our safety on our various nighttime walks.

After a jointly sponsored meeting on Cardiovascular Disease Prevention at Ramathibodi Hospital between our group and the Thai Society of Cardiology hosted by Dr. Supachai Tanomsup, we make our way to the Silver Shadow. To our pleasant surprise, in addition to the wonderful food that cruises are known for, all drinks are free. There is a bottle of Champagne on ice in our room and I order a bottle of twelve year old Glenmorangie single malt scotch for our room as well. We meet our butler (Andrew) who promise to accommodate all our needs.

We arrive in Ko Samui, a small island in the South on Saturday (October 31, 2010). On our tour we visit the Big Buddha, the smiling Buddha and more other Buddha we could count. We saw elephants dancing, playing soccer and giving massages, monkeys picking coconuts as well as a demonstration on how to husk coconuts and extract the milk. It is so efficient that I wonder why we don't do it this way in Jamaica. Can you believe that a small island with 60,000 people process one million coconuts per day? They have also found over 1,000 uses for coconut. We are late getting back to the ship but they accommodate us and depart an hour late. So, tomorrow, Good Morning Viet Nam!

After the cruise ended in Singapore, we flew back to Bangkok for three days. The one disappointment we experienced for the entire trip was having to pay an additional US$300 because of overweight bags. That was not fun. But all our bags arrived with us and we made our way back to the Kingston Suites.

Early next morning, our tour guide picked us up and transported us first to the Ramhopp market fifty miles away. It was definitely worth the drive. Actually, it is a railroad market! When the train comes, 100 vendors pull their good off the railway track and they relocate back on the track as soon as the train pass---four times per day. In addition to the usual fish, satay and coconut pancakes, unusual items include deep fried grasshoppers, crickets and caterpillars. I buy some pak thong kor (fried flour dumplings) and enjoy them. This area is also famous for producing sea salt, dried fish as well as sea food in general.

Our next stop is the famous "Floating Gardens"! The is the Venice of Asia. There are miles and miles of canals where boats outfitted with automobile motors cruise up and down these crowded waterways with tourists. You can buy a meal or anything else your heart desires from boats that pass you or you can pull up and shop from the thousand vendors along the banks. This is definitely a concept that would work in Jamaica. We loved it---very colourful and the bargains were wonderful. No wonder our bags were too heavy.

We then visited the famous China Town and then on to the Gen factory where you can see jewelery being made as well as displayed for sale. After all, this is the land of rubies. It was tempting but we bought nothing!

For dinner, we went to the "Cultural Show and Dinner". The show is an absolute feast for the eyes but the food wasn't. This is a model village that Chronicles the history and achievement of the Thai people. I wonder why we don't have a Jamaican village and show. It is very popular!

Instead of our planned trip to Cambodia, our tour guide arranged for tickets and transportation to watch the skins game with Tiger Woods, Carmelo Villegas, Paul Casey and Thongchi Jaidee in honor of the Thai King at the Amada Springs Country Club. It was a spectacular affair and the 5,000 people who watched and were all allowed to take pictures to their heart's content. Paul Casey played the best golf, Villegas won the most money and Tiger did not bring his A game. But a good time was had by all.

I was fascinated by a coincidence. On our pre tour stay in Bangkok, we saw a black family but was not bold enough to talk with them. But when I saw them again at the golf tournament, I could not resist and showed them the pictures I took of them. They turned out to be really gracious people from New Orleans who are on a five year assignment in Bangkok. That was special!

The next morning, we boarded the Delta flight to Japan then a terrifying flight (the bumpiest we have ever encountered) to Detroit and back to Atlanta. We took nothing but photographs, killed nothing but time, left nothing but footprints. Lckoon!

Cambodia, Viet Nam, Thailand and Singapore

2010-10-25T05:26:00.000-07:00

Cruising with Mahfouz
Basil Waine Kong

For the past twelve years, Good friends, Mahfouz and Sylvia El Shahawy, and Admiral Travel, annually host fifty couples on a fabulous cruise to distant shores around the world. They have taken us to Egypt, China, Mauritius, Slovenia, Croatia, The Check Republic, Austria, Reunion, Zimbabwe, Turkey, New Zealand, Australia, South Africa, the Western Caribbean, Tunisia, India, Spain, Portugal, Morocco, Italy, The Seychelles, Maldives; and who could forget our visit to Nosey Bee in Madagascar?. We depart on Tuesday, October 26, 2010 for Cambodia, Viet Nam, Thailand and Singapore. Stephanie and I have yearned to see this part of the world and it is now eminent.

One of the endearing qualities about my wife is that she keeps a detailed dairy of our travels with our photographs and clippings. I believe we will enjoy reminiscing about these adventures when we are old and sitting in wheelchairs. You see, we do not just visit these countries as tourists. Because most of the people on these cruises are physicians, Mahfouz is able to arrange meetings and symposia with other physicians where-ever we visit. These are meaningful exchanges that add tremendously to the value of our experience.

Some of the moments from these trips that occur to me as I write this include:
1. Celebrating our New Years Eve party twice by re-crossing the international date line;
2. Visiting a village in South Africa where everyone, including the women were topless;
3. Dr. Malcolm Taylor and I seeing a golf course while on a tour of Morocco and asking the bus driver to pull over. We walked across a field to the course, rented some clubs and enjoyed a marvelous afternoon. We then took a taxi back to our good ship, The Crystal Harmony.
4. Touring a sheep farm in New Zealand and after watching men herding several hundred little lambs into a slaughter house, my wife asked: “What are you going to do with those cute little lambs?” to which the herder replied: “Lady, have you ever hear of lamb chops?”
5. The marvelous food and wine in Tuscany (Italy) as well as enjoying a city without cars or streets (Vienna)
6. Playing elephant polo in India;
7. Meeting the head of Antiquities in Egypt who took us on a personal up close and personal tour of the mystic Sphinx. The four Alpha men in the group gathered and sang the Alpha Hymn in the presence of the Sphinx;
8. Standing on the rim of a live boiling volcano in Reunion;
9. The morning and evening exercise /dance sessions at the public parks in China
10. When we learned that the Canary Islands were so named because the explorers found dogs (canis) and that there were no canaries, we went to the Virgin Islands and didn’t find any canaries there either.

While we will be away for two weeks, I will obviously write about our travels, please pray for our safety and plan to join us next year. After all my travels, I continue to believe: “Nuh weh no better than yard!"

The State of Health Care in Jamaica

2010-10-18T06:02:00.000-07:00

Basil Waine Kong, Ph.D., JD

Gary Spaulding, Senior Gleaner Writer , wrote in his Oct. 17, 2010 Column that: “…human-rights groups would do well to focus their attention on the health sector. I suspect that the treatment at hospital is worse than police excesses, if less spectacular.,, Over the years, the RHAs and senior positions in the public-hospital system have been administered by persons who are clearly motivated by the need to protect their jobs and status instead of advancing the Government's vision of a cost-effective, sustainable health-care delivery system… Can one, therefore, blame persons who rush abroad to seek medical treatment as they feel that a minor bellyache is coming on?”

It would appear that we have assassins in uniform on the one hand as well as a health care system that hastens the demise of those seeking acute medical care on the other. Underfunding, lack of appropriate planning and organization result in the inhumane treatment of our citizens. The shortages of essential medicines, supplies and equipment is a crime against those needing medical care. Given that lack of resources and organization is not a problem with a foreseeable solution, we need to change our focus from acute care to prevention. Obesity and inactivity exerts a heavy burden on our resources.

It is difficult to imagine that with all the sunshine, ocean, open spaces, and such a strong sports tradition, 20% of our children are overweight. All aesthetics aside, being fat ought not to be perceived as anything other than unhealthy.

Obesity has reached troubling proportions in Jamaica. Since 1980, we have seen a 50% increase in the incidence of obesity every decade. This dramatic rise in obesity is inevitably accompanied by an equally critical rise in diabetes, resulting in over 20% of Jamaican adults suffering from this awful disease. Diabetes is particularly nasty as it impairs eyesight, causes impotence, and may result in the amputation of toes and legs. How did a society where people walked miles each day, succumb to this plague of inactivity, diabetes and obesity? An unhealthy country is a country without a future.

The United States has taught the world that there isn’t enough money to pay for all the disease caused by obesity, lack of exercise, cholesterol, smoking and diabetes. However, the United States spends 20 cents of each dollar collected as revenue on health care. Still, the life expectancy of an average African American men is less than Jamaican men. The United States has a so-called ‘state-of-the-art’ health care system, yet they are way behind the rest of the world in promoting health and well-being. When a patient has a disease, treat the disease; similarly, when a large segment of a population has a disease, treat the country. If you want to reduce violence, crime and unwanted pregnancies in Jamaica, let children have the opportunity to know their grandparents.

Jamaica needs a system that promotes health and not an expensive “health care system” that only treats disease. In a country where the average household income is less than US$4,000 per year, Jamaica can ill afford to provide invasive and expensive medical services to treat illnesses that should have been prevented. A “System of Health” emphasizes prevention, while a “health care system” places emphasis on the treatment. By being proactive instead of reactive, we can inspire people to take health promotion and disease prevention seriously.

Jamaicans live on an island of sunshine and cool breeze and most of us must live and eat by the sweat of our brow. Europeans and Americans come to our island to lose weight through exercise and heart healthy eating, so why can’t we take advantage of these home grown remedies? If we consider the fact that most of the disease that plague us and cost so much can be prevented, it becomes apparent that promotion of heart health and exercise would allow enormous savings for the health care system. In fact, just about all the heart attacks, heart failure, strokes, diabetes, kidney failure (diseases that kill 50% of us) could be prevented by making simple adjustments to our lifestyles. Being proactive in health can add 10 more years to enjoy the company of our grandchildren and guide them to a happy, healthy and productive life.

I grew up reciting the nursery rhyme about Humpty Dumpty who was lazily sitting on a wall, had a great fall and nothing could put him together again. If Humpty was not sitting on the wall, his risk of falling would be far less. We can take an important message from this nursery rhyme by understanding that no matter how good our reactive plans in medicine and surgery may be, it will never be as good as prevention. An ounce of prevention is always going to be worth more than a pound of cure.

While our government struggles daily with how to allocate our limited resources, it should be recognized that it would be a good investment to spend more on prevention. At present, the Government spends less than 5% on prevention of diseases and we need to increase our spending here to at least 25%. In a Gleaner article dated 13/8/2008, Prime Minister Bruce Golding, in identifying this problem addressed 750 delegates from 80 countries at the opening ceremony of the 57th August General Assembly of the International Federation of Medical Students’ Associations disclosing the fact that the Government is planning to launch an island wide program aimed at getting people to adopt healthy lifestyle practices. In outlining the Government’s plan, Prime Minister Golding emphasized the need to sensitize the public of the benefits of a healthy lifestyle, letting them know that “you can eat yourself to death in the same way that you can smoke yourself to death.” However, other than this speech, not much has been done in this arena.

Comparable to the above mentioned program, The Heart Institute of the Caribbean has developed a plan which involves an island wide tour aimed at training “Community Health Advocates” in various parishes. This plan also involves cardiac screening and group counseling thus effectively identifying the healthiest and most at risk communities in Jamaica. This way, we can educate and motivate our citizens up close and personal to maintain good health.

Just as it would be unconscionable not to have an infectious disease program, it is unacceptable not to have a prevention program. Every citizen must recognize that if they do not take time to exercise and eat well, they will prematurely succumb to disease. God made us to be strong and physically fit, and by choosing to be “fat and lazy”, we will have to pay a price that our government can ill afford.

Myths about the Common Cold

2010-09-20T16:07:00.000-07:00

Basil Waine Kong

My fellow Jamaicans have a great fear of catching cold and the rain (fresh rain or acid rain from South Africa) and the weather are often viewed as the culprits. Important indoor events are cancelled because of rain and whenever I anticipate standing in a long line, I go when it rains as there will be no wait. A subtle reason may also be our fascination about love and romance when it rains. On the other hand, it would make no sense to Jamaicans why Freddie Astaire and Ginger Rogers would be singing and dancing in the rain. They must be nam fools.

I was walking around barefoot ina mi yard in Jamaica during a recent rainfall and a total stranger passing by advised me that if I didn’t put on some shoes, I would catch cold in my foot. I am told that over-exposure to the rain can also precipitate a cold in the knees and back. I am puzzled when my very sophisticated friends rush into the locker room to put on dry clothes after getting wet on a golf course. This started me thinking about the times I was encouraged to wear a hat so wouldn’t get a head cold; to never get out of bed and immediately expose myself to water (shower); never go outside immediately after taking a bath; stay warm with a jacket or sweater to avoid being chilled; and the many other myths about the common cold that is part of our belief system. In fact, myths about the common cold exist in all societies.

My grandmother thought the common cold was caused by “night air” and would call in the pickney dem as soon as it got dark. It turns out that she and others had noticed that during a malaria (ghengi fever) epidemic, those who stayed out late at night, became sick and even died and so developed a healthy fear of the dark. The culprit were mosquitoes that bit malaria infected people and spread the parasite by biting new victims when the mosquitoes swarmed and bit everyone in sight. A very important lesson is that a correlation does not a cause and effect make. That which is said to cause something, should exist when the cause is present and should be absent when the cause is absent.

The common cold, also known as a viral upper respiratory tract infection, is a contagious disease that can be caused by hundreds of different types of viruses. Because so many different viruses can cause a cold and because new cold viruses constantly evolve, the body never builds up resistance against all of them. For this reason, colds are a frequent and recurring problem. In fact, children can have up to 12 colds per year while adults typically have two. The common cold is the most frequently occurring illness in the world, A single tourist who is infected with a cold virus, could infect the entire plane full of people who could in turn spread it to the entire population of Jamaica within 24 hours by sneezing on each other. As soon as the cold virus get into our nose, it will rapidly reproduce and will not be relieved by frequent blowing of the nose or sneezing.

Cold viruses infect the victim’s upper respiratory tract (nose, sinuses, eyes and throat). Symptoms include runny or stuffy nose, watery eyes, congestion, coughing and sneezing. You could have the virus and have no symptoms and you could have one or more of these symptoms but do not have the virus. These symptoms could be an allergy such as when you sneeze from cold feet or have runny eyes from tree pollen, dust or smoke.

You can prevent getting a cold by disinfecting surfaces that are likely to be touched by an infected person like phones, doors and doorknobs. So wash your hands after touching potentially infected surfaces as well as after shaking hands with an infected person who recently put their hands to their nose. Although difficult to remember, keeping your hand away from your eyes and nose will work as well. This is one of the reasons people in India do not shake hands but will greet you with “Namaste” accompanied by a slight bow made with hands pressed together, palms touching and fingers pointed upwards, in front of the chest. Officially, this may be a greeting of well wishes for your good health but it could also mean: “You keep your germs and I will keep mine”.

While the common cold accounts for frequent visits to doctors, If you are infected with the cold virus and consult a doctor, it will last a week; if you don’t, it will last 7 days. You can make yourself more comfortable by drinking plenty of fluids and keeping up your nutrition to strengthen your immune system. Antibiotics work against bacteria, while most colds are viral. So, taking antibiotics, sucking on cough drops and drinking bottles of cough syrup may relieve symptoms but will not cure the common cold. Chicken soup or any soup, tea, coffee or hot drink will help as the steam will help open the sinus passages and the warm liquid going down will sooth your dry, ticklish throat. Contrary to popular beliefs, drinking milk and eating milk products will not increase the production of mucus or in any way make your symptoms worse. Exercise helps. So, resist the temptation to go to bed but do not shake hands or otherwise spread the virus to other people as you move about. While drinking alcohol will help you sleep better, it will neither drive away or clear away the virus but may have the opposite effect because alcohol lowers your immunity. In addition, according to Gabriella Kadar: "Alcohol is dehydrating, consequently it disturbs the body's ability to produce the low viscosity mucous required to move pathogenic and other particles out of the respiratory tract."

What is indisputably true is that water in any form, whether it is hot or cold, cannot make us sick except from downing. You can shower ten times per day, stand out in the rain all day in wet clothes, swim in the ocean or a river, go from a hot steamy room into a cold, air conditioned room, jump from a hot tub to an ice bath and you will not become sick with a cold. Air conditioning does not infect you but will dry out your sinuses which is a cause of frequent sneezing. Though the common cold usually coincide with cold weather, it is not a direct cause. Rather, it is during inclement-weather when people spend more time indoors in close proximity to each other, making it easier to spread the virus. Interestingly enough, cold germs will not spread by mouth (kissing) or by eating foods that have been sneezed or coughed on as the cold virus does not infect the digestive tract.

So, the way to avoid the common cold is to exercise, eat a healthy diet and build a strong immune system as well as wash your hands frequently with a proper disinfectant soap. Rather than spread myths along with our cold germs, let’s join together to spread scientific truths. A professor at The George Washington University Hospital made an offer to students that if they were able to “catch a cold” without a virus, he would pay each of them US$1,000. No one has yet to collect and these students tested every myth that was ever conceived by man. Are your courageous enough to put your myths to the test?

Baksheesh for Jamaica

2010-09-10T09:22:00.000-07:00

Basil Waine Kong

On my first visit to Egypt twenty years ago, I encountered a practice that I have put into effect while I am in Jamaica and would recommend to all who can afford it. Each day, my Egyptian host would make sure he had a bag of coins and would give something to everyone who asked. Since there is more poverty in Egypt than in Jamaica and no welfare system, crime is low because they had institutionalized the practice known as Baksheesh. This is not begging. These are little tips that are graciously accepted by the less fortunate for little or no services rendered. Often, my Egyptian host would even thank the receiver of the baksheesh for giving him the opportunity to earn a blessing. At least a person in dyer straights could get by with the cooperation of several people. Rather than arrest or even resist the solicitations from those less fortunate, can those of us who are blessed daily share a little of our good fortune with our brothers and sisters? Here is a case where a little from all who can afford it will go a long way to reduce the desperation of those who need it.

“Thousands of candles can be lit from a single candle, and the life of the candle will not be shortened. Happiness never decreases by being shared.” Buddha

The Songs of My People

2010-09-10T08:26:00.000-07:00

I remember the songs
B. Waine Kong

As a Freemason, I can always count on a big smile on my face and my mood picking up when we gather to toast our benefactors and to sing. There is nothing like a room full of men singing the old songs. These experiences cause me to reminisce about my early years in St. Elizabeth where songs are important elements of our culture. We used every occasion to express ourselves in song.

My Granny (Rosella McKenzie, who raised me) prayed aloud when she greeted the day each morning, prayed again before each meal as well as before bedtime. She sang hymns all day long while doing her chores and never missed attending church where she was more delighted with the music from the old pipe organ pumped by Mr. Mears and played by Teacher Chang, than the sermons, responsive readings and even prayer time. There was a gentleman at Springfield Moravian Church whose voice made everyone wince. He sounded like a bullfrog. No amount of gentle urging could get him to understand that the Bible said: “Make a joyful noise unto the Lord” not a dreadful noise. As he refused to be silent during the singing of hymns, we just laughed, grinned and bared it.

The men sang when they worked. Women sang and make wonderful rhythms with their coconut brushes as they put a honey wax shine on the wooden floors as well delighted me with squeaky noises when they washed cloths. There was always a song in our hearts and a rhythm to all activities of daily living. We sang non-stop for nine nights when someone died. In the old days, the men got together to plow the fields, children brought the water, the women cooked the food and served the rum and a song leader kept the men singing and working all day long and no one got tired. There was nothing like a song and camaraderie to motivate men to work without being paid. Neighbors just did it for each other. The joke was to box someone in a corner by a group of men swinging hoes because the rule was you couldn’t stop even to save a man’s life as long as the song continued. You could not break the rhythm. When they took a break for food, it was hard corn meal dumplings the size of cart wheels,yam, coco, dashine as well as fried up salt fish and salt pork with onions, scallions and tomatoes and the drink was “waters” (white rum and water) as well as lemonade made with sour orange and wet sugar. Whenever a man drank rum, he was expected to do four things, throw a little to the ground for the ancestors, drink it with one gulp, make a loud grunt and put down the glass as if he just bowed out in dominoes. The rum we served was called “Jan crow Batty”. It was so named because it was stolen from the rum factory by workers who filled their water boots, wear it out and emptied their boots in a pan when they got home to later share with friends. The over proof alcohol cured his athlete’s foot and added flavor to the run.

We started and ended every meeting with a song. At school, we had a song for every occasion. When a new teacher came to school, we greeted them with a welcome song: “Hello, we are so happy to meet you”. Those leaving heard: “Good bye, Farewell”. We had a good morning song, a good evening song: “Now the Day is Over, Night is drawing Neigh” and when we graced our food: “Be present at our table Lord; be here and everywhere adored.”

My favorite song at “Nine Night “was:

Mi sa my old man dead
And he no lef no will
He lef a little piece a land
Fi feed the whole a wi
But wi bigger breda
Tief it way from wi
Glory Be to God
Glory be to God
Fi di whole a wi

Whenever our cricket team went to play another town (New Market, Darlistown, Black River, and Middle Quarters) we tried to big up the team by singing and waving to those we passed from the time we left and especially when we arrived and was in the presence of the opposing team. If we lost, the truck was quiet on our way back but if we prevailed, we sang all the way back: “You were wrong to send and call us, you were wrong.”

Nothing like a song to pick up our spirits.

Teaching Our Children to Swim

2010-09-10T06:59:00.000-07:00

Basil Waine Kong

The unbelievable suffering by families who lose children from drowning is upsetting to me for this un-necessary loss of life. I read too frequently, newspaper reports about children (as well as adults) drowning in our ocean, in pools, rivers and ponds. With the abundance of water around and in our island, the risks of not knowing how to swim and the ease of learning how to swim, why are 90% of our citizens not able to swim? I am puzzled.

All my children and grandchildren who are more than two years old can swim. It is really not difficult. Anyone who is not afraid to put his head under water can learn to swim in less than one hour. All we need is a commitment to do it. Just like we need a national commitment to end illiteracy, we need everyone into the pool. The risk of drowning is one thing but when I contemplate the hours of joy I have experienced wading in and under various waters around the world, why would we want to deprive our citizens (particularly our children) this source of joy. Tourists come to Jamaica to swim in our clean beautiful blue ocean and enjoy our white sand beaches and too many of us deny ourselves this pleasure. If we made a commitment to require swimming proficiency in our schools, in addition to saving lives and increasing activity levels, we may also discover some talented individuals who could represent us in the Olympic Games. We are gifted people looking for opportunity.

If our Minister of Education wants to be remembered for his leadership, this is something he should consider.

Inside the Ropes: Can a 67 year old man carry a 25 pound golf bag for five miles?

2010-08-30T07:27:00.000-07:00

Adding Up My Blessings
Basil Waine Kong

In the twilight of my years, I find myself adding up my blessings. According to Eric Erickson, after 65, we become what we were. Here is my list: I have never been sick and continue to enjoy excellent health, married to an incredible woman who I love dearly, fathered four fantastic children who completed all the education they wanted and have fabulous careers and six beautiful children of their own, visited 100 countries, arrested just once for demonstrating against apartheid in front of the South African Embassy in 1989, enjoyed a career that as a lawyer and psychologist, included being a college professor, Dean of Students, vice president of a hospital, executive director of a medical research organization, CEO of the Association of Black Cardiologists and Executive Vice President of the Heart Institute of the Caribbean. Since my retirement, I have been focusing on the further nurturing of my family, reducing the ravages of cardiovascular disease as President of the Heart Institute of the Caribbean, participating on various Board of Directors, writing and improving the human condition in Jamaica.

As an athlete and sportsman, I was the boys sports champion at Springfield All Age School when I was fourteen years old, set a 440 track record at Madison High School in New Jersey, earned 7 varsity letters in not only track, but wrestling, soccer and cross country, as well as earned an athletic scholarship to Simpson College in Iowa. Every time I watch a cricket match, I remember the feeling after I hit a six when I was fourteen years old playing for the Boys Brigade. At some point, I have tried just about every game and sport that I encountered including "Elephant Polo" in India. My other hobbies include swimming, skeet shooting, tennis, ping pong, bridge, bid whist, badminton, and racquetball. I work out regularly at a gym and can still do 35 push-ups. Jamaica taught me to be adventuresome and to pursue excellence.

However, for fifty years, my passion has been golf. I started playing at sixteen year's old when a kind member of Springbrook Country Club in Morristown, New Jersey, gave me an old set of clubs and as a caddie, I was allowed to play on Mondays. I have returned the favor giving several sets of golf clubs to caddies over the years. I once played to a nine handicap but that was as good as I got and now play to a fifteen. Golfers do not necessarily get better with practice or experience. It is a fickle game and as Mr. Peter Lindo says often: "golf does not live in anybody's yard." It is amazing to me that from day to day, there can be a 20 stroke difference in our scores. I live in envy of professional golfers who can effortlessly hit such great shots.

During the past week-end (August 23-29), I accompanied my wife while she was doing some work at Taylor Memorial Hospital. Coincidentally, it was the week-end of the Annual Hooters Classic at the course where I usually play when we are in Hawkinsville, Georgia. Since the course was occupied with these professionals, the most adventuresome thing I could think of doing was to volunteer to caddie for Mr. David Wax, a 23 year old phenom from Los Angeles, who shot an incredible 16 under par after four rounds but did not win. On the other hand, I lost 5 pounds and my bones were aching and tired but I felt proud and accelerated. It was a true test of my endurance and no successful climber of Mt Everest felt more accomplished. Contrary to the professional tournaments I have watched outside the ropes, I was lock step with my player and was right in the middle of the action.

Did I make any mistakes? Well, at one point, David handed me his four iron and I thought I had placed it back in the bag while I was walking. As he was walking behind me, he merely picked up the club and told me that I missed. On another occasion, I gave him his sand wedge and prematurely walked to the back of the green so he had to hit up to the green without checking the sheet that he kept in his bag to learn the contour of the green, so he only made par. On another occasion, I walked ahead to make sure that I could locate an errant shot. I lost track of the ball as it sailed toward the white fluffy clouds in the background and it came crashing down near me. If it had hit me or his bag, he would have been charged a two stroke penalty and my wife would have been asking if my body could be buried at Southern Hills Country Club. For those of you who see players tossing balls to their caddies and caddies tossing balls back to their players, if they miss and the ball roles on the green, it could be a two stroke penalty for testing the green. I lived in fear that I would not catch the ball or misthrow it, so while David threw me the ball, I would always hand it back to him after I wiped it nice and clean.

This is another one of my memories and hope I can do it again. Thank you for the opportunity David. Good luck to you in your quest to join the PGA Tour. You are a fine golfer and gentleman with a great future.

A Prayer to End Wanton Violence in Jamaica

2010-08-24T02:27:00.000-07:00

Psalm 151: A Responsive Reading
Basil Waine Kong

Leader: O LORD God of hosts, how majestic and magnificent is Your name.
Congregation: Our father, strong and mighty, incline Your ears and hear our prayer.
Leader: We stand in awe of Your miraculous creations, particularly the splendour of the Island we call home. You are our light and salvation.
Congregation: In our distress, we cry unto You because our souls are hungry for Your wisdom, guidance and intervention.
Leader: Trouble is everywhere and we are consumed with grief. The wicked kill innocent men,women and children. Our land is polluted with blood. A stubborn and rebellious generation who do not keep Your commandments torment us.
Congregation: All night long we flood our beds with weeping and drench our couches with tears. Our eyes grow weak with sorrow.
Leader: We are desolate and afflicted as desperate violent men have united against us snuffing out innocent lives with callous brutality.
Congregation: Leave us not to our oppressors. Deliver us quickly out of the hands of the wicked and declare Your glory among the unbelieving. But instead of turning your hand against our adversaries, we ask that you forgive them and turn their hearts and minds from crime.
Leader: Let those who hate You submit to Your commandments. Let them be born again, never to return to this folly.
Congregation: Bring us out of our distress. Have compassion on Your affliction and deliver us Almighty God, We put our trust in You.
Leader: You keep your promises Almighty God and You said the needy will not be forgotten, nor the hope of the afflicted perish. You are a refuge for the oppressed, the ever present stronghold in times of trouble.
Congregation: Your promise is a lamp unto our feet, and a light unto our paths. Your words are sweeter than honey to our mouths!
Leader: You promised that You would never ignore the cry of the afflicted and that those who know Your name will never be forsaken.
Congregation: We shall wait on You and not be weary. We shall be of good courage as we lift our hands to You in supplication. Let not evil triumph.
Leader: Almighty God, many are our foes that rise up against us. In their arrogance, wicked men hunt down the weak who are caught in the schemes they devise. They compass us about like angry bees and wasps.
Congregation: As a nation, we have become corrupt. Criminal gangs have joined with gunmen to do abominable deeds. Their mouths are full of curses, lies and threats. Their victims are crushed under their misguiided strength.
Leader: How long shall our enemies be exalted over us?
Congregation: As our rock, our fortress, our deliverer and our strength, we call upon You to save us from our enemies.
Leader: Make the wicked come trembling from their garrisons. While we seek no personal revenge as You proclaimed with righteousness: “Vengeance is mine!”
Congregation: While You pledged unfailing kindness for your anointed, iniquities prevail in all of us. You know our reproach, shame and dishonor. We pray therefore that You purge these sins from us.
Leader: Remember, O LORD, thy tender mercies and thy loving kindnesses. Remember not the sins of our youth. But according to thy mercy forgive us for our many transgressions.
Congregation: We are merely strivers to be pure in heart, trying to keep ourselves from sin and to live by Christian principles.
Leader: We acknowledged our own sins against You, and our iniquity we will not hide. We confess these transgressions with the faith that you will now forgive us.
Congregation: Forsake us not O Gentle Savior. Teach us to do Your will and lead us into the land of uprightness, integrity and truth so that sinners will walk from darkness into the light and become gracious and full of compassion for our fellow citizens.
Leader: Watch over the righteous, bless us and surround us with your favor as with a shield and make the nation our inheritance.
Congregation: Defend us from those who rise up against us. Place a shield around us and restore glory on us so we can lift up our heads.
Leader: Order our steps in thy word and let not any iniquity have dominion over us. Deliver us from the oppression of sinful men.
Congregation: Let the lying lips of the wicked be silenced and call them to account for their sins so they may terrify us no more. Let those who dig holes fall into the pits they make. Let the trouble they cause recoil on them. The violence they perpetuate come down on their own heads.
Leader: For those of us who have done evil. We ask thy forgiveness and mercy. We repent of these sins.
Congregation: Take away, O Lord, the desires and propensities of the wicked to be violent and the unrighteous to give thanks unto Your name. They are also our sons and daughters and You are the father of us all. But what has a man gained if he owns great wealth and loose his soul?
Leader: O righteous God, who searches minds and hearts, bring to an end the violence of the wicked and make the righteous secure.
Congregation: Give us relief from our distress and be merciful. Let the light of Your face shine upon us and give us peace.
Leader: We lay our requests before You and wait with expectation.
Congregation: Weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning.
Leader: If You be for us, who can be against us? You only are the strength of our lives. If we trust in You, who shall we fear?
Congregation: From You come blessings and deliverance from wickedness. We will give thanks and sing praises to You, our LORD Most High, for You have kept Your promises and dealt bountifully with us.
Leader: We make a joyful noise unto You and come before You with thanksgiving. Your mercy is everlasting; and Your truth endure forever.
Congregation: May the words of our mouths and the meditations of our hearts be forever pleasing in Your sight O Lord, our rock and our redeemer.
Leader: Though we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, we will fear no evil, for You are our constant companion. We promise to never let go of your hands.
Congregation: You prepare a table before us in the presence of our enemies, exalting the righteous.
Leader: Save Your people, and bless our inheritance. Feed us until we want no more. Turn our mourning into dancing.
Congregation: Let Your mercy, O LORD, be upon us as we put our faith and trust in You. Put off our sackcloth, and gird us with gladness. We will join all those who are upright in heart to sing a new song and shout for joy.
Leader: Let truth, peace and prosperity return to Jamaica so that the land may yield her increase and our children inherit a new land.
Congregation: You water the land and provide us with a rich harvest of fruits, vegetables and grain.
Leader: You cause the grass to grow for the animals, they multiply greatly and herb for the service of man that we may bring forth food out of the earth. O LORD, how manifold is Your works! The earth overflows with riches. So is the great sea that caresses us, full of Your bounty,
Congregation: From everlasting to everlasting, thou art God. May Your mercy endure forever.
All: Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Amen. Amen. Amen.

Our Trip to China in 2008.

2010-08-10T13:21:00.000-07:00

Basil Waine Kong, Ph.D., JD

We were sharing travel stories with some friends and they suggested that I create a post of our trip to China. While we were not fortunate enough to visit during the Olympics, we saw all the preparation and in particular, posters of Asafa Powell who they had expected to the star of the Olympics. It was a fascinating adventure, nevertheless.

One of the outstanding highlights of our two week sojourn was attending a cardiology conference at Fuwai Hospital (Chinese Academy of Medical Sciences & Peking Union Medical College) Presentations by Chinese scholars, Drs. Gu Dongfeng, Hui Rutai and Yang Yuejin were particularly informative. With all our expectations about “Traditional Chinese Medicine”, we were surprised that cardiology in China resembled cardiology in the United States. They implanted pacemakers, stints, had the same diagnostic equipment available, medication for high blood pressure, diabetes, and cholesterol was the same as practiced in the United States. No where were any Chinese herbs to be found. They followed the same clinical protocol for demonstrating efficacy and side effects of various treatments and many of them published in the NEJM, Hypertension, and JACC. Smoking was their major concern as 50-60% of the population smoked and while obesity is currently less than 15%, it was on the rise as the Chinese people adopted western lifestyles. They were surprised to know that so many people in the United States were obese. The tour of the hospital was particularly enriching.

Our visit to China was just sensational, delighting all our senses. What do you eat when you are in China? The answer is Chinese food but interestingly enough, French, continental and even Jamaican was available. We even had Starbucks and McDonald's. The trip was a perfect blend of feasts, science, culture, history, sightseeing and shopping. The beer is equivalent to Red Stripe.

We started out in Shanghai with tours of the city (old and new), seeing the awesome acrobatic show and attended lectures on Chinese investment and business climate. We visited the Shanghai museum, the Yuyuan Garden and the Bund (The famous river walk).

We moved on to the “Three Gorges Dam” in Yicchang which is an awesome splendor and engineering feat. The Dams provided enough electricity to economically supply 100 million homes. We boarded the good ship “Vicking” and sailed for four days down the Yangtze River through the Wu Gorge, the Qutang Gorge and the visited the fabulous Snow Jade Cave and City of Ghosts. It was fascinating to see people putting every bit of land to use. For example, the sides of the road were planted up with corn and other vegetables. Master Poe did a masterful tai chi demonstration to the delight of all the passengers.

We eventually arrived in Zian where we spent a day viewing the incredible Terracotta Army. In a previous generation, the Emperor took his army, family and friends with him when he died to keep his company for the expected reincarnation. Later, another emperor was talked into making terracotta likenesses of his wives and soldiers to be buried with him. We marveled at the thousands of soldiers, archers, horses and chariots that were buried with the Emperor Qin Shi Huang more than 2,000 years ago.

In Chongquin, we were entertained by a dozen Pandas, strange looking koi and other unusual animals at the Zoo, and viewed a large collection of Chinese art. We found it fascinating that large numbers of people show up morning and evening in various groups to do group dace, tai chi, fan dance and other exercises in the parks.

We eventually made it to Beijing, a city dating back to more than 1,000 years before Christ where Tienanmen Square, the world’s largest public square with the capacity to accommodate more than 1,000,000 people, the Forbidden City and other elegant palaces, pavilions courtyards and gardens. The climb on the Great Wall was a visual feast and the elegant Sacred Way leading to the Ming Emperors tomb featuring stone elephants, lion, camels and mythical beasts.

The street vendors are far more aggressive than in Jamaica. But shopping was great with incredible bargains. almost everything cost about 20% for equivalent items in Jamaica. But what really made the trip an awesome experience was interacting with the people. Our guides could not have been more entertaining, informative and engaging. And no, while I encountered lots of Kongs, I did not find any of my father's family.

This is a trip I would highly recommend.

My Review of "Jamaica Farewell" after we saw it last year

2010-07-30T07:43:00.000-07:00

"Jamaica Farewell" is a magnificent production
See This Play
Basil Waine Kong

Last night, my wife and I were in Atlanta and took the opportunity to attend the fabulous one woman show titled: "Jamaica Farewell" staring Debra Ehrhardt and Directed by Francis McGahy. It is funny, it's original, well rehearsed and went off without a hitch. I could readily relate to the story line about a Jamaican girl who dreams of escaping to America during the Turbulent Seventies. Through many daring and hilarious twists and turns (Jamaican style), she averts disaster and achieves her goal. For good belly laughs and inspiration mixed with a great deal of back-home inferences, you will want to make every effort to see this magnificent production. I absolutely loved it and I am sure you will as well. Ms. Ehrhardt deserves an Oscar. To learn about play dates, please go to: jamaicafarewelltheplay.com. Your soul will be enriched.

The play comes to the Theatre Place (8 Haining Rd. 908-0040) from Wednesday, Aug. 11 - Sat. Aug. 14.

Selling Worthless Pyrites for Gold

2010-07-28T03:42:00.000-07:00

Basil Waine Kong

With all due respect, I believe our PM is under the illusion that a state of emergency (SOE)that authorizes our soldiers and police to be arresting officer, judge, jury and executioner is the answer to the crime monster. While the declaration of the SOE was absolutely the right thing to do to meet the immediate threat and the attack against the state, it is no substitute for day to day policing. He has, however, sold the public that a long term SOE will be effective and make us feel safe again.

Crime statistics reported by the government predictably show dramatic improvement but at what price? The killing of over 70 suspects or imprisoning over 4,000 compromises our rights as citizens without the requirement that they be formally charged and determine their guilt or innocence in a count of law. Apparently, more than 99% of those taken from their families and detained for up to two months under horrendous circumstances are never charged. An attack on crime in any society requires an investment in people, strategic planning and hard work, these do not seem to be elements of what is being done.

According to Hunmin Campbell: "The security forces and their admirers believe that the current crime problem can be solved quickly and easily. There is no quick fix to our crime problem. The Government must not be fooled by the facade of commissioner of police Owen Ellington or the eloquence of Colonel Rocky Meade of the Jamaica Defence Force."

Regardless of the pushback from the Chamber of Commerce, It was correct for the PNP representatives not to support the extension. The SOE provision in our constitution was never envisioned as a long term approach to crime. But our PM's great gift is that he can sell worthless pyrites for gold. While the Dons are on the run and we are focused on catching the bad guys and reducing the number of homicides, what is this doing to our basic human rights? What is the price of a crime free society?

With our culture of police brutality against poor people, we should be reminded about what they say about the path to hell. This usurpation of illegal powers is no substitute for a comprehensive plan to address not only crime but social development as well. The only money we are never short of is for law enforcement. When will we start redirecting some of these funds to education, jobs, and the rehabilitation of the criminals we are bent on putting behind bars?. As these are not life sentences, how will they be re-introduced into society? Most of these men who are being imprisoned are our youths. With five to ten years in prison, they will not only be more bitter, they will have gone to prison school and will have been indoctrinated into the criminal sub-culture. What will they do when they are released?

If you ever wonder about the plight of our young black men,I am envisioning two of them sitting side by side at the Emergency room at KPH waiting for a doctor to tend to their wounds---one a soldier shot by a criminal and the other a criminal shot by a soldier.

This is what a confessed criminal told me: “Wa me fe do? Me a desperate man and desperate men do desperate things. I am 21 years old and nutten a gwaun. Me can't read and me no fine no work. Every day me wake up from kotching and stress over how me gwan get a food. Me try to sell a little ting them pon the road but the police run me. If me don’t beg, tief or borrow, how me fe live? How me ever gwan have woman and pickney? Can me even dream of owning a car and house? Life hard. From the day me bawn, me have trouble. Life better in prison.”

Illiteracy is intolerable everywhere else but Jamaica. One third of our people cannot read. Where is the investment in their future? Our government close their ears to the cries of the oppressed and shut their eyes to the crimes of the rich. According to Mr. Lloyd Smith: "Jamaica has one of the highest levels of illiteracy and non-productivity in the Caribbean and Latin American region. This country is also one of the most undisciplined, corrupt and crime-ridden in the world. Education must be the means by which we change all that for the better, not just freeness or states of emergency."

Declaring a SOE says more about the incompetence of government than about law and order. We do not educate our people, tell them not to bother knocking at the door of government for help, deny them access to basic services and sentence them to a life of misery.

Leaders with a lust for power, once in fear for their tenure, cannot help but to be arbitrary and cruel. Today the gunmen and the poor. Who will it be tomorrow?

Personally, I live in fear, not only from criminals but from the government as well. What is to prevent the PM (under his emergency powers) from sending soldiers to extricate me from my home just because he doesn’t like what I write or say about him. Do we still have free speech? Tumultuous liberty is better than disgraceful peace. “I would rather be a dead man in my grave than living as a puppet or a slave.” (Jimmy Cliff) Ruling by fear is the worst kind of government.

To quote Mr. Stanley Redwood: “Expediency has often been used as an excuse for oppression. Let us be very careful what we ask for. We just might get it. And those of us who spring from an ancestry of oppressed people and who continue to live and work among our people, we cannot afford to be so cavalier with our hard-won fundamental rights and constitutional freedoms.”

Our PM is not only misguided, he does not think things through and is without the moral fortitude to lead the country. It never occurs to him that solving one problem creates at least two more problems to solve. I am going to guess when he ordered the detention of thousands of our citizens, he never thought about where they would be housed and how their physical needs were to be addressed. History will judge him unkindly because:

“Moral Evil is Falsehood in actions; as Falsehood is Crime in words. Injustice is the essence of Falsehood; and every false word is an injustice.” (Morals and Dogma by Albert Pike)

But then again, desperate men do desperate things. The end, ladies and gentlemen, does not justify the means. It is time to bring back the restorer of the trust and the builder of the nation.

It's My Birthday

2010-07-18T21:12:00.000-07:00

Basil Waine Kong

It’s my 67th birthday and I appreciated the well wishes of friends and family, particularly my passionate wife, our four prosperous children and our six gorgeous grandchildren who all called to sing “Happy Birthday” and bring tidings to warm the cockles of my heart. It was really special when my 87 year old mother called and sang to me. She cannot believe she has a 67 year old son! I feel really loved, and blessed today and believe my life’s work made a positive difference in the lives of a few people. Thank you all.

I often reflect on the fact that when I was growing up in Woodlands District in St. Elizabeth, I never knew how old I was and never even thought to ask. None of us children ever had a birthday party or was ever concerned about our age. When my grandmother was 60 years old, her children did assemble for a birthday party but that was the only one I remember. I understand that this was not the practice of those who grew up in Kingston but us country bumpkins did not annually blow our candles and eat ice cream and cake on our birthdays in the company of family and friends. I only found out my birth date when I had to get a copy of my birth certificate to apply for a visa to migrate to the United States at fifteen years old. Even now, it is an odd encounter when we do blood pressure screenings around Jamaica and find that about a third of the people we screen do not know their birth date.

When I migrated to the United States in 1959(Morristown, NJ), my mother was invested in making it up to me and spared no expense organizing a sweet sixteen party. The problem was that as I had only recently arrived and had not yet made any friends. So, I just went ahead and invited the entire school. On the night of the party, over 100 people who I did not know showed up. After admitting about 20 people, my mother locked the door leaving the remaining people wondering up and down Phoenix Avenue to my great embarrassment. Anyway, being the center of attention and receiving presents was a novel experience that I thoroughly enjoyed.

As is her practice, my wife went all out to make today special and I appreciate her love, caring and attention to detail immensely. This was her e-mail to me this morning: “My darling husband:I wanted to be the first to give you a BIG BIRTHDAY hug!!!!!! I praise God for you and pray God’s blessings on your now 67th birthday. I love you because you are the fulfillment of my prayers and dreams for a man to share my life with. You are my proof that God exists and that He loves me because He gave you to me. You are my daily birthday present. I love you this day more than ever before!!!!! Your Wife”

Between watching The Open, lunch with my mother, an outing with some Haitian friends (Gee and Karen Douyon) in the afternoon and a lovely family dinner, it turned out to be a wonderful day. An old friend (Dr. Art Lee) who I have not seen in over a year showed up and contributed tremendously to the celebration. Seeing Luis Oosthuizen, the winner of The Open from South Africa, and his Caddie (Zack Rasego) walk down the eighteenth fairway on Nelson Mandela’s birthday was a heartwarming and emotional experience. Yes, I share my birthday with the great man himself.

But, I think we have things backward. Children love a lot of candles and older people hate them, so I propose that when a baby comes into the world, he or she should have 80 candles on their first birthday and each subsequent birthday is celebrated with the reduction of one candle. So, when you run out of candles, you will be reminded that it is time for you to go or at least when you get down to a few you will know that time is running out on you.

To be 67 years old with no aches and still able to play 36 holes walking,do 35 push-ups, having the support of a loving and dedicated family, and still making a contribution to the uplifting of mankind, is a blessing. I learned long ago the words of a wise man (Dr. Malcolm Taylor): “If you have God, family and friends, you may stumble, but you will never hit the ground.” Ladies and gentlemen, I have it all.

Our Breezes Vacation

2010-07-14T08:19:00.000-07:00

Basil Waine Kong

We took the opportunity of my wife’s birthday to drive over from Kingston to celebrate at Breezes in Runaway Bay. My wife and I have been privileged to visit many resorts in Jamaica and throughout the world, many superior to Breezes, but absolutely none give you as much value for your money as this slice of heaven in Runaway Bay in our Island in the Sun. For a modest charge that is equivalent to about the food charges at other resorts like the Ritz or the Half Moon; you can play unlimited golf, unlimited tennis, receive unlimited entertainment, food and beverages, unlimited water sports and more importantly, unlimited hospitality. The staff (particularly Amoi Leon) is always at the ready to bring everything up to your expectations, assist you to book reservations, tours and to answer your questions.

Yesterday, for Stephanie’s special day, we woke up at six and helped ourselves to coffee that is available 24/7 and went to their fabulous beach to watch the sunrise and wade in the healing waters of the Caribbean. We brought our snorkeling gear as we anticipated seeing a variety of fish on a nearby reef within the swimming area. We were not disappointed. When I located a number of sea urchins, I went back to the beach, found a stick and destroyed several of them. My wife was delighted as the fish then swarmed to feed on the exposed sea urchins.

The sunrise was colorful; the water was warm and the company delightful. We learned long ago that there are no angry, frustrated or unsociable people on a beach in the early morning so we delight in engaging whoever we saw with “Mawnin”. It is just a wonderful way to make friends. Strangely enough, the aches and pains from playing golf and just being old disappear. My wife (a physician) believes that the salinity of the water provides buoyancy that takes the pressure off the joins. My grandmother (from St. Elizabeth) told me that the therapeutic minerals penetrated the skin and provided relief from whatever ails you. She often asked whoever was visiting the ocean to bring back a bottle of sea water to slap onto her arthritic knees.

We went back to our room to shower and get dressed for breakfast. We find that we shower several times per day after each swim, golf or other activities as well as in anticipation of our meals. At breakfast, we chose a table overlooking the ocean where we enjoyed a cool breeze while dining on a combination of American and Jamaican treats. As a roots man, I am one of those people who like to eat dinner for breakfast, so I take healthy portions of escovitch fish, liver and onions, Callaloo, boiled bananas, yam and dumplings. They ignored my request for corn pone. Stephanie loved the omelets lovingly prepared by Latasha Morris,(a real egg breaker), and we both absolutely love the variety of fruits in season. Our fruits man (Owen Anderson) makes a lovely smoothie with mangoes, bananas, melons, pineapple, yogurt, wheat germ and honey. That will definitely put lead in your pencil. Half way through breakfast, there was a downpour that created a pitter patter on the roof. Stephanie and I looked at each other, smiled and without saying a word, took each other’s hand and made our way back to our room. Nothing like rain on a zinc roof to put us in the mood.

On our way to the golf course, we got a flat tire and after putting on the spare, were sent all the way to St. Ann (10 miles away) to have the tire fixed. So, our tee time was delayed until 10:00 am. The Breezes course is in great shape but the real treat is to meet and even get a lesson from a true legend, Head Pro Mr. Seymour Rose, the only Jamaican to have played on the PGA tour. In his many years in Runaway Bay, he has eagled every hole. While the course is long and difficult, it only took 3.5 hours---walking. For the past four years, during the last week in February, Mr. Ken Wimberly from Atlanta , brings a group of us to Breezes for a week of golf and fellowship and we always find the accommodations and the golf course a great test of our golfing and social skills. A good time is always had by all.

Today, it didn’t matter that the scores were high as the wind picked up and the sun beat down from above, we enjoyed the good natured caddies. They started out laughing with us but they ended up laughing at our game. We finished in time to get back to the hotel, shower, have a quick lunch and meet the horsemen at 2:30 pm for a leisurely carriage ride (accompanied by Champagne) around the residential areas of Runaway Bay in the company of newlyweds from Chicago. Breezes is a popular destination for weddings.

On our return from the hill and gully ride, we took a nap, checked our e-mails, called friends and relations, caught up on the news and took a walk on the breach to watch the sun set and in the process buying two beautiful pieces of art from our local Rastaman (Chini).

We then went to the Japanese Hibachi Restaurant to enjoy hot sake, shrimp, beef and chicken prepared by a chef that neither spoke Japanese nor did the usual tricks with his utensils but cooked a marvelous meal. A birthday cake was brought out to the singing of “Happy Birthday Stephanie” and well wishes from the staff and seven other diners. She loved her cake and card.

Immediately after dinner, we got front row seats to hear “Tommy T and Craig” (wonderful singers from Montego Bay). They are really great entertainers and we danced the night away. We were tired but happy campers when we retired for the evening.

Every day at Breezes is sweeter than the day before. This is definitely a place you can come to get into healing water or ever hot water (hot tub), try a different routine like wake up when you should be going to sleep and sleep when you would normally go to work. Whatever time of day or night, there is always something fun to do. While we are too old to participate in the goat races and other organized fun and games on the breach, there is no shortage of things to do regardless of your age or interests. We look forward to coming back. Happy Birthday Darling!

My Speech to the Kingston College Old Boys (KCOB) (Annual Banquet in Atlanta)

2010-06-20T07:34:00.000-07:00

Is Jamaica a Failed State?
Basil Waine Kong

Good night KC Old Boys and Guests! Thank you for your kind invitation. I am honoured to be here tonight to speak about a topic that is near and dear to my heart.

I am particularly grateful to Glen Laman for that wonderful introduction. He is, without a doubt, one of Jamaica’s’ finest who goes way beyond the call of duty to promote the interest of the KCOBs, Jamaica and the entire Diaspora. The first time I saw him, I told my wife: “That guy over there looks as if he could be my brother” I had to go over and introduce myself. We have been friends ever since. But Glen is everybody’s friend. Ladies and Gentlemen, let's show our appreciation for your friend and mine, Mr. Glen Laman.

Yesterday, I read the following in the KCOB Newsletter about one of your famous alumni,Principal of the Norman Manley School of Law and Rhodes Scholar, Mr. Stephen Vasciannie: “But unlike most of us who studied abroad, Vasciannie eschewed the lure of financial security and comfort of America and returned to his native land.” When he was asked why he choose to return to Jamaica?, he said: “I responded to the pull of my roots. Partly because it's home: I needed to find out whether it was true that you can never return home. But, perhaps more importantly, I had never seen myself as a migrant while I was away; I had always wanted to live in Jamaica and to make my contribution here. So I returned home when I believed the time was opportune.”

After I read the article, I was inspired to write the following poem in an attempt to capture the lament of the Diaspora.

“Kotching in Atlanta”

I didn’t come to American to stay
I only came to learn and earn a little money
To go back home to build a house, buy a car and maybe a bar
But I now have seven grand pickney here
Who don’t know the joys and have no interest in the place I call home
I yearn for the Rock but the rock won’t have me
While I am kotching in Atlanta, my heart is in Jamaica
I don’t want to stay but I cannot go
See me daya between the sheets of the bed I made
With no idea where the grass is greener
I try to duplicate Jamaica in Atlanta but the patties are not Tastee or Juici
I play dominoes, drink rum punch and Red Stripe Beer
I can eat escovitch fish, curry goat and rice but it’s not Coosho’s
I can get fried fish, bammy and festival but it’s not at Hellshire Beach
I scream for run raisin ice-cream but it’s not Devon House
I watch the cricket match but it’s not at Sabina Park
I read the Atlanta Journal Constitution but it is not the Gleaner
I enjoy all the comforts of home but it no home
I miss Mass Birtie, Mother Blake, Uncle Benji, Brother Boogs and Aunt Poochos
Greeting me with “mawnin” and “God bless you” when I share what I have with them
Sorrel and fruitcake in December only make me long for Father Christmas
I don't want a "Merry Christmas" I want a "Happy Christmas"
I can watch 200 stations on my TV but find nothing to watch
Instead of pumpkin beef soup on Saturday I now eat hamburgers and beans
Mi Belly full but mi hungry

My favorite Jamaican joke was originally told by Tony Winkler and goes like this: “Tony said he was sitting on a plane headed for Los Angeles and while his seatmate admitted to being born in Jamaica, he wanted nothing to do with the country of his birth. Tony’s seatmate took great pains to point out that he not only separated from Jamaica, he got a divorce. “The people are arrogant and illiterate, drive recklessly, the place is dirty and riddled with crime”, He was going on and on about the backwardness of the country when the plane took a sudden dip to which he loudly exclaimed: “RASS!” The moral to the story is “once a Jamaican, always a Jamaican.

My second favorite story is about four Kingston Ginalds playing dominoes and contemplating what will help Jamaica to become a first world country. They had seen the Peter Sellers movie, the “Mouse that Roared” and all were in agreement that the way forward was to declare war on the United States. Their thinking was that “after the US mash us up, they would do what they always do, help the vanquished to prosperity like they did for Germany and Japan”. One of the men, however, was greatly concerned and when asked what was wrong with the plan, he finally kissed his teeth and said: “Me no know yu know, suppose we win?” And why not, suppose there was a track meet between the United States and Jamaica, who do you think would prevail?

Let me get immediately to the question that was posed to me: “Is Jamaica a Failed State?’ I am sure if this question was asked of all of you, a third would say yes, a third would say no and a third would say maybe. Some would assert that it’s a failed JLP government but not a failed state. What we can all agree on is that TG is now a failed state.

With a full recognition of our problems, I definitely and without doubt claim that not only is Jamaica NOT a failed state but a really great country where you can find happiness and prosperity. I just wish more people were more like Stephen Vasciannie who are willing to set down roots and contribute to the development of our country.
I get very upset when people learn that I retired and returned to Jamaica and they respond: “fe wa? Everyone is trying to get the hell out of here and you are coming back?” If we stop focusing so much on our shortcomings and trying to be anywhere other than Jamaica, more of us may discover that Jamaica is a highly organized society with wonderful traditions and culture. I have been back for two and a half years and I have never had a problem or a confrontation with anyone.

According to Professor William Zartman, a failed state:“Is paralyzed and inoperative, laws are not made, order is not preserved and societal cohesion is not enhanced…As a territory, it is no longer assured security by a central GOVERNMENT, As the authoritative political institution, it has lost its legitimacy.”

We are not that. We are a working democracy and will continue to enjoy the rights of citizenship. On an everyday basis, the country works and everyone can go about our business with the greatest of ease. There is not a better vacation destination in the world. Montego Bay has four world class golf courses within three miles.

When I am foreign and read about all the bad things happening in Jamaica, like you, I am scared to death and wonder why I am living there. When I am there, I go about my business without a care in the world. So, please bear that in mind as you lament our condition. When you read the Newspapers, they are reporting on about 1% of what goes on.

Admittedly, I enjoy several advantages, not the least of which I can purchase a ticket and visit practically any country of the world while the average Jamaica must wait for up to two years for a visa. My good health and income affords me to frequently stay in our fantastic hotels, play our fabulous golf courses, eat incredible meals at our five star restaurants with wonderful friends and wake up each morning with joy in my heart---it is an incredible life.

But as I position myself to get the best view of each lovely sunrise with a hunk of corn pone (You don’t know about corn pone? Hell a top, hell a bottom, Hallelujah in the middle) and a cup of Blue Mountain coffee in hand and each sunset with a Red Stripe, I am constantly wondering whether the future of this romantic place we call Jamaica is represented by the coming up or going down of the sun. Is this the real deal or a fool's paradise?

While we continue to squander many opportunities and have badly mismanaged our resources, I believe we are represented by a rising sun. While it is not shining very bright at the moment, I believe in my heart that it will be morning again in Jamaica. Challenges come to make us, not break us. Our abundant variety of flowers, vegetables and fruit trees leads me to believe that God has blessed us in a very special way. Our wealth includes rich and abundant soil, lots of rivers and fresh water, talented and hard working people, a pleasant climate, sunshine and rain embraced by the Caribbean sea.

Most of all, we have “brand Jamaica”---we set the pace. In addition to our sprinters, our hairstyles, music and entertainers, we have the best coffee in the world, the best beaches, the best rum, the best beer, the best sugar, the best aluminum, the best herb and spices, the best honey (logwood) and yes, the best ganja. We are a land of unlimited possibilities.

Japan has no natural resources except the drive and talent of their people and they are the second largest economy in the world. Singapore obtained independence the same time as Jamaica and they are a booming economy. Chile went from a poor third world economy to first world in ten years. Their secret formula? Chile decided to fight crime and educate their people. Their citizens took over from there.
My optimism notwithstanding, over the past two and a half years I have been despairing about our increasing problems:

Our imports are up and our exports are down.
More and more of our annual budget is committed to servicing our formidable national debt
Deaths from automobile accidents are outrageous. Every day, someone dies from an automobile accident.
Our children have half day school with half of them not able to pass their GSAT and suffer from lack of parental guidance as most of their mothers are in other countries taking care of other people’s Pinckney.
What were we thinking when we established half day school for our children? What are they supposed to do from 1:00 pm until they go to bed? Couldn’t we have anticipated that young people would get involved with gangs, drugs, sex and dancehall music? Japanese children go to school 8 hours per day, six days per week.

On the one hand, there is no better high school education than KC, and the other traditional high schools. At the same time, A third of our citizens cannot read. I was very sad when a gentleman told me that his father told him that if he could dig a yam hill, that was enough.

Until recently, Garrison Dons and Gunmen who were out of control. New York City, Ladies and gentlemen with a population of eight million had 400 homicides last year and Jamaica with less than three million had more than sixteen hundred. It is even more troubling that we had less than 50 convictions for murder.

But God is just. He will not sleep forever. Criminals may seem invincible, but in the end, goodness always triumphs and evil fails. History teaches us that time is on the side of law abiding citizens who just need to recognize that we are blessed with brilliant opportunities disguised as insoluble problems.

Then came our moment of truth. After much consternation, a few weeks ago, our PM decided that we had enough. Dudus and the criminals are finally on the run.
Just before the incursion into TG, I read a quote in the Gleaner from a resident of TG who said, "Dudus is next to God. Jesus died for our sins and we are willing to die for Dudus." She demanded that the authorities leave him alone.

It reminded me that for a thousand years, the Japanese people believed that their emperor was God. After the Allies occupied Japan and the Emperor was made to declare on the radio that he was not God and was just an ordinary man with no Godlike powers, thousands of Japanese citizens, the true believers, committed suicide, not being able to accept that the god that they worshipped and prayed to was just another human being, nothing more or less.

I also thought of Plato's Allegory of the Cave. Imagine, writes Plato, a tribe of people who spend their entire lives in a cave. Their only exposure to the outside world was the shadows that were projected on the sides of the cave through the cracks on the opposite walls. During an earthquake or some other earthy disturbance, a member of the tribe escaped and was confused and dazzled by the fantasy to which he was exposed. As he was marveling at the sights and sounds, him buck him toe on a rockstone and it hurt. He walked into a tree that he thought was just a fantasy and hit him head. He fell into a river and almost drowned and gradually came to realize that he had things backwards. This was the reality and he and his people were living a lie and only shadows of the truth.

Having found truth, he immediately went back to his people and with great excitement, courage and conviction proceeded to enlighten and plead with them to accept his truth and they all said: G’wey fool. You know not of what you speak. Everyone knows that the shadows are the true reality. They even killed him for his blasphemy.

I grew up in Woodlands, St. Elizabeth, with the certain knowledge that:

1. The Bible was written by God and every word must be taken literally;
2. If you were caught in the rain you would catch cold;
3. Night air was dangerous so children had to be called in when it got dark;
4. Crop failure, hurricanes, earthquakes, sickness and death were acts of a vengeful God;
5. Anything foreign was better than anything produced in Jamaica;
6. If it is written it is true. Arguments would immediately cease once someone produced a “writing”, particularly a Gleaner article. "Why would they write it if it wasn't true?"

As I discovered that science nicely explained away many of our traditional beliefs, on one of my trips back to Jamaica armed with a substantial education, I liberally shared the knowledge I had acquired in an effort to correct these myths. My grandmother just smiled. She said I was still too young to know anything while the rest of my people more aggressively ran me: G’wey!

Some of the residents of Tivoli Gardens know no other reality but the see no evil approach to life. Dudus, the President, the Godfather, dispenser of the proceeds of crime, merely ask that the recipients of his largess reciprocate with loyalty and obedience. "He was a hero who kept order and more importantly protected us from abusive police. He could stand up to anybody."

How does a criminal strongman capture a community? Well, he provides quick fixes to people's problems. What could be wrong with that? Yet as time progresses, the easy way becomes easier and easier until it seems you have no other choice, until you want no other choice. It is at that moment, when you have an established need of such a person, that the price is exacted. While for those of us who can support themselves, the greatest treasure is freedom; for those who are starving and desperate, freedom may not be much of a price to pay for their daily bread and daily fix for school fees, uniforms, lunch money, court costs, food, etc.

Mr. Coke used the proceeds of his various enterprises to prey on poor Jamaicans looking for quick fixes because the government failed to provide the framework of education and economic resources to help them out of their dependent relationships.
Unfortunately, a vacuum of power will result with the removal of Dudus. So, what is to become of the many citizens of TG who have grown used to dependency and are now destitute?

I cry for my beloved country because some of our people are so badly neglected and mis-educated that they are willing to drink the “kool-aid” of fast money and quick fixes that the criminal element offers. My plea is: please don’t drink the kool-aid! The most predictable road to independence, long term happiness and prosperity is integrity, scholarship and hard work.

Let us stop this conspiracy of silence and form a coalition of the law abiding so we can persistently fight crime and promote prosperity in Jamaica. Each of us has a choice to make. Every member of our society has the power to act in the interest of good. When someone is not afraid to die, they immediately become powerful. Each of us must commit to a future when evil will not feel at home in our country. One man or woman with a cause, courage and God becomes a majority.

If there is no struggle, there is no progress. You cannot have crops without ploughing up the ground and you cannot bake a cake without breaking some eggs. We should never surrender to the menace of evil in our society. Let’s have no truce with criminals. They are the people who are invested in preserving poverty and promoting the rule of the jungle rather than the rule of law.

If they continue to do their worse, let’s double our efforts to do our best. There is nothing wrong with Jamaica that what is right with Jamaica cannot fix. Let us be excellent to each other. More than cleverness, we need kindness and courage.

I hope my talk tonight will spur you to action. If not you, who?. What we are famous for doing is understand and participate meaningfully in all the other countries of the world. Wherever I go, I find Jamaicans doing incredible things for their adopted countries. What we do worse is understand and invest in our own country. Every little bit you do will help little bit.

Our only hope is for the rich and poor to come together for the good of the country. My fear is that it will be too late when the rich finally reach out to the poor, they may find that the poor has turned to hate. I hope we aspire to a better Jamaica and not bitter Jamaicans.

Thank you for your kind attention and may God continue to bless you all!
(June 19, 2010)

Dudus as God

2010-05-28T17:23:00.000-07:00

Keeping Silent About Evil
Basil Waine Kong

I read a quote in a Jamaican newspaper from a lady who said, "Dudus is next to God. Jesus died for our sins and we are willing to die for Dudus." * She demanded that the authorities leave him alone.

For thousands of years, the Japanese people believed that their emperor was God. After the Allies occupied Japan and the Emperor was made to declare on the radio that he was not God and was just an ordinary man with no Godlike powers, thousands of Japanese citizens, the true believers, committed suicide, not being able to accept that the god that they worshipped and prayed to was just another human being, nothing more or less.

I also thought of Plato's Allegory of the Cave. Imagine, writes Plato, a tribe of people who spend their entire lives in a cave. Their only exposure to the outside world was the shadows that were projected on the sides of the cave through the cracks on the opposite walls. During an earthquake or some other earthy disturbance, a member of the tribe escaped and was confused and dazzled by the fantasy to which he was exposed. As he was marveling at the sights and sounds, him buck him toe on a rockstone and it hurt. He walked into a tree that he thought was just a fantasy and hit him head. He fell into a river and almost drowned and gradually came to realize that he had things backwards. This was the reality and he and his people were living a lie and only shadows of the truth.

Having found truth, he immediately went back to his people and with great excitement, courage and conviction proceeded to enlighten and plead with them to accept his truth and they all said: G’wey fool. You know not of what you speak. Everyone knows that the shadows are the true reality. They even killed him for his blasphemy.

I grew up in Woodlands, St. Elizabeth, with the certain knowledge that:
1. The Bible was written by God and every word must be taken literally;
2. If you were caught in the rain you would catch cold;
3. Night air was dangerous so children had to be called in when it got dark;
4. Crop failure, hurricanes, earthquakes, sickness and death were acts of a vengeful God;
5. Anything foreign was better than anything produced in Jamaica;
6. “Nutten black no good”;
7. If it is written it is true. Arguments would immediately cease once someone produced a “writing”, particularly a Gleaner article. "Why would they write it if it wasn't true?"

As I discovered that science nicely explained away many of our traditional beliefs, on my first trip back to Jamaica after leaving Woodlands and armed with a substantial education, I liberally shared the knowledge I had acquired. My grandmother just smiled as I tried to address these myths. She said I was still too young to know anything while the rest of my people more aggressively ran me: G’wey!

The residents of Tivoli Gardens are living in Plato’s cave. They know no other reality but the see no evil approach to life. Dudus, the President, the Godfather, dispenser of the proceeds of crime, merely ask that the recipients of his largest reciprocate with loyalty and obedience. "He is a hero who keeps order and more importantly protects us from abusive police. He can stand up to anyone."

Parasites prey on those around them. How does a criminal strongman do this? He provides quick fixes to people's problems. What could be wrong with that? Yet as time progresses, the easy way becomes easier and easier until it seems you have no other choice, until you want no other choice. It is at that moment, when you have an established need of such a person, that the price is exacted. While for those who can support themselves, the greatest treasure is freedom; for those who are starving and desperate, freedom may not be much of a price to pay for their daily bread and daily fix for school fees, uniforms, lunch money, court costs, food, etc.

Mr. Coke is a Jamaican strong man who used drugs and other vices that prey on poor Jamaicans looking for quick fixes. Poor Jamaicans turn to the Mr. Cokes of the world because the government fails to provide the framework of education and economic resources to help them out of their dependent relationships.

Unfortunately, a vacuum of power will result with the removal of Dudus. Dudus is a white star quickly collapsing into black hole that, if we are not careful, will swallow massive amounts of Jamaican civil society. On the other hand, we may be in the midst of a cleansing that may benefit our society going forward. But what is to become of the many citizens of TG who have grown used to dependency and are now destitute?

What I know is for freedom to ring, the rule of law rather than the rule of the jungle must prevail. Crime is, by its definition, a breach of the rules and laws of a governing body. The people of Tivoli Gardens willingly sacrificed their freedom for security. They willingly huddle in the shadow of a tyrant, fearing his removal, because they do not know the value of the sun shining on their faces here in the land of sun and water.

I cry for my beloved country because our people are so badly neglected and mis-educated that they are willing to drink the “kool-aid” of fast money and quick fixes that the criminal element offers. My plea is: please don’t drink the kool-aid! The most predictable road to independence, long term happiness and prosperity is integrity and hard work.

*****************************************************************************

*"Dudus" is the purported drug Lord who, like his father, controlled a section of Jamaica called Tivoli Gardens who the United States want to put into a orange jumpsuit . The people who live there are provided with amenities, compliments of the one they call "The President". He was the most powerful man in Jamaica before the showdown with government forces in May, 2010. He was indicted and wanted by the American authorities for charges relating murders committed by the Shower Posse for which he is the purported head as well as the illegal sale of drugs and guns.

Is the Sun Raising or Setting on Jamaica?

2010-05-20T12:57:00.000-07:00

Mawnin!
Basil Waine Kong

I am in a Jamaican state of mind. As I position myself to get the best view of each lovely sunrise with a hunk of corn pone and a cup of Blue Mountain coffee in hand and each sunset with a rum punch or a Red Stripe, my teeming brain, crawling with thought, often wonder whether the future of this romantic place we call Jamaica is represented by the coming up or going down of the sun. Is this the real deal or a fool's paradise? Are our best years behind us or in front of us? Were our best years under colonial rule or maybe the early days of independence when we were celebrating and feeling free from colonial domination? While we continue to squander many opportunities and have badly mismanaged our resources, I am going to believe with as much optimism I can muster that we are represented by a rising sun. While it is not shining very bright at the moment, I believe in my heart of hearts that it will be morning again in Jamaica. Challenges come to make us, not break us.

We are a wealthy but badly managed country. Our abundant variety of flowers, vegetables and fruit trees leads me to believe that God has blessed us in a very special way. Our wealth include rich and abundant soil, lots of rivers and fresh water, talented and hard working people, a pleasant climate, sunshine and rain embraced by the Caribbean sea. Most of all, we have brand Jamaica---we set the pace. In addition to our sprinters, our hairstyle, music and entertainers, we have the best coffee in the world, the best beaches, the best rum, the best beer,the best cotton (Sea Island), the best herbs and spices and the best honey (logwood). We are a land of unlimited possibilities. Japan has no natural resources except the drive and talent of their people and they are the second largest economy in the world. Nevertheless, our progress as a society canno only be measured by big houses, fancy cars, super highways, big buildings and money in the bank but rather the welfare of ALL our people.

Over the past two years, I have been despairing about our increasing problems: Unemployment is at an all time high. Our health care system is in shambles. Eighty five percent of our children are born out of wedlock. Our imports are up and our exports are down. More and more of our annual budget is committed to servicing our formidable national debt. We have Garrison Dons and Gunmen who are out of control. Our prisons are full. We have politicians, public servants and policemen taking bribes to compromise the public trust. Deaths from automobile accidents are outrageous. If our high rate of accidents and homicides are not enough, criminals have now taken to kidnapping our children. A third of our citizens cannot read. Our children have half day school so half of our children with half of them not able to pass their CXE and suffer from lack of parental guidance as most of their mothers are in other countries taking care of other people’s Pinckney. The list of these negatives continue to expand with each passing day.

I remind myself that the way of truth and love has always prevailed when societies are plagued with criminals and a bad economy. God is just. He will not sleep forever. Criminals may seem invincible, but in the end, goodness always triumphs and evil fails. The future is our permanent address so time is on our side. History teaches us that time is on the side of law abiding citizens who just need to recognize that we are blessed with brilliant opportunities disguised as insoluble problems.

Let us stop this conspiracy of silence and form a coalition of the law abiding so we can persistently fight crime on our streets and communities. Each of us has a choice to make. Every member of our society has the power to act in the interest of good. When someone is not afraid to die, they immediately become powerful. No one can make you do anything without your consent. Each of us must commit to a future when evil will not feel at home in our country. One man or woman with a cause, courage and God becomes a majority.

Since we all know that power concedes nothing without a struggle, sometimes it requires that we put everything on the line and fight for our personal integrity, dignity, self esteem as well as a cause in which we are invested. Let’s start by saving the children.

If there is no struggle, there is no progress. You cannot have crops without ploughing up the ground and you cannot bake a cake without breaking some eggs. We should never surrender to the menace of evil in our society. Let’s have no truce with criminals. They are the people who are invested in preserving poverty and promoting the rule of the jungle rather than the rule of law. Is that what you want for your children? If they continue to do their worse, let’s double our efforts to do our best. There is nothing wrong with Jamaica that what is right with Jamaica cannot fix. Let us be excellent to each other. More than cleverness, we need kindness and courage.

If you are kind to your neighbours you will feel good, if you are cruel, cover up the evil deeds of others and don’t do the right thing you feel ashamed and haunted. If you live by Christian principles you will be blessed, not only because God will bless you but because other people want to associate and do business with people who are honest, sincere about their promises and helpful in their moments of need. Whatever you do, you will be successful because others will wish you well and offer help to another good and faithful servant.

On the other hand, people will shun and show disdain for those who are evil. Why would anyone want to associate with someone who lies, become violent and hurt other people? They realize that regardless of the very temporary availability of money that a criminal lifestyle sometimes offer, it is only a matter of time before a criminal will turn against those who associate with him or her. Most of the murders in Jamaica were friends of the perpetrator. Criminals have the lowest life expectancy in every society. If you live by the sword, you will surely die by the sword. So, stop hugging up gunmen, defending and hiding the criminals in your community.

There is a revolution coming. It will not require violence and violence will not stop it. I am a Jamaican. Hear me roar. The virtuous people in our communities can be a powerful army if they are pushed to the wall. We are now up against the wall. The good people of this country will rise up and act when they recognize that our society is currently organized to oppress, murder, rob, and degrade them—with our hopes not realized and our promises not fulfilled. Is your ambition to work your way up from nothing to extreme poverty? Some politicians and leaders of our country believe that enough is done for the people at the bottom rung of society if you are allowed to live at all.

The time has come. Every country has the government they deserve and the community we want. Equal opportunity, fairness and justice are ideals for which we should be prepared to die. If you refuse to accept evil, you will get what you want. There are a lot more good people than bad people. Have a positive impact on the world. Don’t end up having just visited and walked the earth. Help to make Jamaica free for honest people to enjoy. “Emancipate yourself from mental slavery. None but ourselves can free our minds” (Bob Marley) This is our Island in the sun that deserves your salvation.

In spite of the few criminals, I believe that Jamaicans are really good at heart who just wants to show love and kindness to others. You cannot believe the kindness I have received at the hands of perfect strangers in Jamaica. This is no time to keep the facts from our people to keep them complacent.

My motivation is to spur action from an aroused public. What we are famous for doing is understand and participate meaningfully in all the other countries of the world. Wherever I travel, I find Jamaicans doing incredible things for their adopted countries. What we do worse is understand and invest in our own country. Every little bit you do will helps little bit.

Use your time on this earth. Resolve to be reduced to ashes rather than to be dust under anyone’s feet. Go out in a blaze if you must rather than compromise your dignity. Earn the respect of your fellow man by becoming men and women of action. A man must live with purpose, not just to compromise with the devil. Use your time wisely and be a force against evil. Our only hope is for the rich and poor to come together for the good of the country. My fear is that it will be too late when the rich finally reach out to the poor, they may find that the poor has turned to hate. I hope we aspire to a better Jamaica and not bitter Jamaicans.

Responses:

I am the author of "A Struggle to Walk with Dignity"-The TRUE story of a Jamaican-born Canadian. I am very inspired by the words of Dr. Kong's writings, and I am proud to be a part of your web family. As a thinker and writer myself, it is as if Dr. Kong's thoughts on Jamaica are connected through my brain. I could not have said it any better, and clearer than Dr. Kong. He shows me the brilliance of the Jamaican mind and the possibility of great accomplishments that Jamaicans are capable of. The future of Jamaica is in the hands of it's people, as we all wish that Jamaica after Colonialism could have been another Singapore. Gerald A.

_________________
Dorothy Purge 2010-05-20 07:11
Interesting article, Dr. Kong. Thanks for sharing and up-lifting one's spirit.

The rising and setting sun, can in many ways, speak positively within our lives and that of our country. May you continue to share your inspiration.

________________
Desmond Green 2010-05-19 13:09
Thank you Dr Kong for a truly inspiring and challenging post. It hits the spot with truths that can heal the sick and raise even the dead. Thanks again. Eye will talk with you soon.
Desmond
______
T. Williams 2010-05-20 18:00. UNTIL WE GET OUR UNIVERSITY GRADUATES TO THINK BEYOND BEING TALK -SHOW HOSTS AND STATE CRITICS,AND UNTIL THEY ARE ABLE TO PUT THEIR KNOWLEDGE TO WORK TO SHAPE POLICY WHICH CAN GUIDE GOVERNMENT, WE WILL FOREVER SEE OUR SELVES IN THESE SITUATIONS. They continue to sell Jamaica CHEAPLY BECAUSE THEY ARE NOT SOLUTION DRIVEN,KNOWLEDGE THEY HAVE BUT THEY CAN'T DEMONSTRATE IT, SO THEY SEEK FOR ANSWERS FROM THOSE WHO ARE NOT AS EDUCATED AS THEY ARE. Please do some research in Israel and you will see how backward our most educated are, we need to OWN, THE LAND OF OUR BIRTH AND SHARE OUR SKILLS TO THE WELFARE OF THOSE WHO ARE NOT AS PRIVILEGED AS WE ARE, THEN WE WILL SEE THE SOCIETY TRANSFORMED INTO ONE THAT OTHERS WILL ENVY. Thanks for being a concerned human being, and not one who sits in the bashing gallery as talk show host.

Sermon From My Mount (High Horse) Part 3

2010-05-18T09:26:00.000-07:00

The Challenge of Making Each Hour Count
Basil Waine Kong

Every hour is different from all other hours in which you are endowed with an extra-ordinary opportunity to do heroic deeds. If we recognize that providence rewards the bold, this is not the second, minute or hour to be timid and invisible. Each of us have the power to change things for good or evil. Every little bid you do helps or hurt a little. We must decide whether our life is to be about quick fixes, the avoidance of pain, a pursuit of pleasure and material gain or in the service of mankind.

The need to “fit in” is swallowing us up. If we do not remain true to ourselves and our fore fathers and fore mothers we will drive ourselves into oblivion in our BMWs. Our people need learning, conviction, exaltation and justice yet we remain consumed with the pursuit of superficial material things. We may claim to be a success, but in the eyes of the heroes and sheroes, we are rightly regarded as failures. Our community is in spiritual distress suffering from a disease of loss of character and commitment and most of us are paralyzed with fear. One can be a villain even though very cultured, learned and surrounded by luxuries. There are many among us whose entire existence is been taken up with the trappings of modern life. We have forgotten the value of our human relationships.

The Earth, our home, is a magnificent creation and generous gift from God to whom we owe eternal gratitude.The glory of the creator is manifested in the spectacles that is all around us in Jamaica---the cool breeze, our bountiful harvests, our spectacular mountains, the blue caribbean, the spectacular rainbows and sunsets after a storm. But the greatest of all of God’s creation are human beings! We are the very embodiment of His perfection.

We are interdependent with and partners with God. God need us as much as we need Him. When we walk through storms, we never walk alone. We are not solitary in our toils or forsaken in our efforts. The smallest and weakest of us is a microcosm of the greatest one. A reciprocal relationship binds all of us with our creator.

When I study the Bible, God speaks to me. When I pray, I speak to God. Knowledge of the Bible is only a necessary first step to living the Bible and walking as a Christian. You cannot study philosophy through praying and cannot study prayer through philosophizing. Prayer fulfills a sacred function. When you pray, you talk to God, when we experience a flash of insight, a catharsis, and understanding, God is talking to you. When God is betrayed and abandoned, we experience agony.

Holiness is not man’s achievement, it is a gift from God that cannot be achieved without engaging others. It is not something that can be attained through merit. We become holy not by who we are but by His grace and by how we treat our fellow travelers on the planet. Don’t turn your backs on the world’s most precious treasures. The light we shine to maintain our existence is the light that will transform the world and enrich others as well as ourselves. It is more than ever our duty to recover the relevance of our traditions to be engaged with each other.

Never doubt our wonderful capacity for generosity and forgiveness. We can teach the world a great deal about forgiving and moving forward. The assumption that all Jamaica can offer is mere survival and getting by is an affront to our dignity and not recognizing the magnificent contributions our people have made in every field of endeavor.

We should all stand for and represent a striving to achieve a high purpose. Our sense for meaning grows not by spectacular acts but how we treat the twenty four hours we are given each day.

On one of my visits to Africa, several of us were taken to see Mt. Kilimanjaro. When the guide pointed in the direction of this great mountain, none of us could see it. The guide pointed out that we were not looking high enough and directed us to look above the clouds. There is was in all its snow covered splendor made popular by Ernest Hemingway. Jamaicans are special. We are not regular, average or limited. We are great people whose only fault is that we do not aim high enough. We are guilty of low aim because we devalue ourselves and over value foreign. The ceiling of our aspirations is too low: a job, a house, car, flat screen TV and life insurance. We are capable of so much more. We have world changing ideals and power. We are only limited by our minds. What the mind can conceive and what we believe, we can achieve.

Our community’s need for thought, understanding, and intellectual expansion is profound and urgent. If it is not satisfied, we will be bankrupt, squandering a great legacy and opportunity.

I slept and dreamt that life was joy.
I woke and saw that life was duty.
I acted and behold, duty was joy !!

Aspire to inspire, before you expire.
(Amy Grant)

A Toast to Our Son, the Doctor

2010-05-16T05:27:00.000-07:00

Toast to Our Son: Dr. Aleron Kong (May 15, 2010)

Son, you may recall that five years ago, we went to the Sushi Rock Restaurant for dinner and as we walked in I shouted: “Ladies and Gentlemen, our son just received notice that he has been accepted to medical school. Even though you almost died of embarrassment, you gracefully received the applause and congratulations of the other diners. Through toils and sacrifice, you walked across the stage today. Ladies and Gentlemen, please rise to your feet and welcome our new graduate: Dr. Aleron Kong.

Graduation is a major milestone in anyone’s life. Graduation from medical school is particularly special. As you can judge from their thunderous applause, you are the focus of all the proud family and friends who have assembled and all the well wishers who could not make it to the celebration. Your sisters, Jill and Melanie, your brother Fredie and your extended family want to “Big you up” and show you much love for a job well done. If you were sitting with me in the audience when you walked across the stage, you would have seen several buttons pop off as I stuck out my chest. I am a proud father and your mother’s eyes are red from crying tears of joy for the achievements of our washbelly son.

With all our struggles, we are extremely proud of not only for your graduation from medical school today but all your accomplishments. At PACE academy, you not only excelled academically but you were an incredibly competitive athlete. I remember the day we watched you at a wrestling match when you picked up your opponent and was about to slam him to the mat when you mother screamed: “Don’t hurt him!!!” Similarly, when you kept that boy’s head under water in Water Polo for what seemed like an eternity and again your mother screamed: “Don’t hurt him.” It seems to me that your opponents owe your mother a debt of gratitude.

You also handled your finances well. When we lived in Miami, you were only twelve years old when I hired you to clean my office after school for $10.00 per day. You saved every bit of it and invested in Pfizer before the announcement about Viagra. With the 500% increase on your investments, you bought your first car with your own funds.

You were also the youngest to have a driver’s license at PACE as I took you to Florida to get your license at 15 years old when your friends in Georgia had to wait until 16.

It is such an exciting time for all of us. It seems like it was just yesterday that you were heading off to kindergarten and now you are a doctor with a license to... heal. Thank you for the joy and pride we feel in this moment.

We hope that you enjoyed living at home and all these years in school and hope you are as excited about your future as we are. Next month, when you start your residency at Grady Memorial Hospital, we hope you will do the best that you can do and remember some of the important values we tried to teach you about the need for passion, honesty, integrity, respecting others and taking care of yourself.

While we will always be here for you, the sign on my desk reads: “Shun mediocrity: Let your light so shine before men that they may see you good works, and glorify your father in heaven. You attitude determines your altitude.”

You should now put your future in good hands - your own.

Ladies and gentlemen, please raise your glasses and toast the graduate!

Sermons From My Mount (High Horse) Part 2

2010-05-13T08:51:00.000-07:00

Forget me not, O Gentle Savior
Basil Waine Kong

I believe that human beings share a need to be a thought in God’s mind and to be the object of His affection or his attention. The song: “Pass me not, O Gentle Savior written by Fanny Crosby, in 1868, perfectly represent this sentiment:

Pass me not, O gentle Savior,
Hear my humble cry;
While on others Thou art calling,
Do not pass me by.

Savior, Savior,
Hear my humble cry;
While on others Thou art calling,
Do not pass me by.

Let me at Thy throne of mercy
Find a sweet relief,
Kneeling there in deep contrition;
Help my unbelief.

Trusting only in Thy merit,
Would I seek Thy face;
Heal my wounded, broken spirit,
Save me by Thy grace.

Thou the Spring of all my comfort,
More than life to me,
Whom have I on earth beside Thee?
Whom in Heav’n but Thee?

He may punish and discipline us, only let Him not forget me or abandon me. Sometimes He takes a crow bar upside our heads, But in his testing, His sentence is never more than we can bear and He does it out of His great love for us.

Repentance and redemption are important concepts in Christianity. As human beings, we are destined to sin but a great renewal can be achieved by the miracle of repentance when we can start anew with a clean slate, a clean heart, clean hands and a clean mind. However, repentance requires honesty, truthfulness, remorse and responsibility. If it is coerced or done out of expected ritual or conformity, though not wasted, is not redemptive and does not carry the cleansing benefit and may even cause more conflict and misery. There is no return to peace without the readiness to examine ourselves for earnest, honest repentance before God. The harm we commit against others and ourselves is extinguished, transformed into salvation.

As we go through the cycle of sin, redemption, transformation and rebirth, through forgiving guidance from God, we become better and better, more and more enlightened, holier and holier with the goal of becoming one with God.

Leviticus 19:2 “You shall be holy, for I the Lord your God am holy.” Woe to us if we cease praying and God should forget us. We long for God. Emotional satisfaction is impossible without Him. Shouldn’t you want to talk with Him often if only to remind him that we are here. He acts with mercy and love.

As the praises go up, the blessings come down.

Sermons From My Mount (High Horse) Part 1

2010-05-13T08:19:00.000-07:00

Be Careful: A single Deed may Decide the Fate of Mankind.

Basil Waine Kong

I have become an old man, enjoying my retirement after many fruitful and joyful years. I have been blessed with good health, a loving and dedicated wife, successful children and bright, beautiful grandchildren. As I undertake the final leg of my journey, I take the occasional liberty of imparting thoughts regarding my relationship with God and share the significant truths I have discovered.

This is my testimony:

I have come this far by faith
Leaning on the Lord
Trusting in His holy word
He never failed me yet

My relationship with God, my spirituality and my commitment to live by Christian principles is an issue of the Heart that by its very definition must be based on faith.

Man without God and spirituality is just a torso. Life involves not only the satisfaction of physical and social needs, but also addressing a divine requirements for a relationship with the Almighty. This personal relationship with God requires an uncompromising commitment to human justice.

Religion without indignation for evil is intolerable. Religion cannot co-exist with injustice. According to Father Lewis (Stella Marris Church) "We must fight for what is good, we must fight for what is the truth, we must fight for what is just, we must fight for what is honest, we must fight for what is decent and that fight should not be exercised by some, that fight should be exercised by all and the truth is to be spoken by all." We cannot worship God and abuse others---physically or emotionally. I believe in the dignity, equality and respect for ALL human beings. You certainly can be better off but never better than anyone else.

Divine likeness is something all human beings share. Because we are created in the image of God, each human being is a reminder of God’s presence. Human life, therefore, is sacred and has intrinsic value. So, the murder of any human being is an affront to God and a grave moral sin. Even natural death of a loved one is traumatic enough much less the senseless and brutal murders occurring in Jamaica (particularly the likle pickney dem).

When anyone engage in acts of violence and murder, he or she desecrates the likeness of the Almighty. On the other hand, he who loves our fellow citizens, honors and gives pleasure to God. When Christ was asked what was the greatest commandment, He answered: “To love the Lord with all your heart, mind and soul and the second was like unto the first, to love your neighbor as yourself". On these two commandments hang all the laws of the universe.

So, reach out to your fellow human beings, and beautify yourself with good deeds with integrity. These acts are the true essence of your beauty and strength. Your inner splendor can illuminate the world. The fear of offending or hurting another human being must be as sacred as your fear of God. To be arrogant towards God is blasphemy.

What does God want from us? I believe God wants us to serve Him with all our heart and soul; to keep His commandments and His statutes; to fear Him; to walk in His ways; as well as to practice honesty, stillness, humility, and obedience to his word. We have eyes to see, but see not; we have ears to hear, but hear not. God is everywhere but we cannot find Him. We have his words but we ignore them. I believe He is the way---the only way to a life well lived, happiness, health, eternal life, paradise, nirvana and enlightenment.

A life well lived means more than to accomplish something or even great things. It also means to make a contribution. If you aid a creature, you are helping God; If you aid the poor and downtrodden, you are addressing a concern or a need that God has. When you do good and reward good, you revere the spirit of God. When you smile at someone they smile at someone else. Do it often! When you do good, you increase the amount of good in the world that increases the likelihood of good coming back to you.

Religion is not based on our awareness of God, but God’s interest in us. The Great Architect who created the universe wants to have a relationship with you and me and want us to communicate with each one of us. You can open a channel to him at any time you wish and he is never too busy----that is amazing to me! In fact, I was always skeptical that God could know and want a relationship with every one of us until I realized that even now, you can send an e-mail to every person in the entire world with a computer in one second. We cannot even imagine what God can do.

God Help Us! A Prayer for Jamaica

2010-04-30T05:41:00.000-07:00

A Responsive Reading Prayer for Jamaica
Basil Waine Kong

Leader: O LORD God of hosts, how majestic and magnificent is Your name.
Congregation: Our father, strong and mighty, incline Your ears and hear our prayer. In our distress, we cry unto You. Trouble is everywhere and we are consumed with grief. The wicked kill innocent men and women. Our land is polluted with blood.
Leader: You keep your promises Almighty God and You said the needy will not be forgotten, nor the hope of the afflicted perish. You are a refuge for the oppressed, the ever present stronghold in times of trouble.
Congregation: Your promise is a lamp unto our feet. You promised that You would never ignore the cry of the afflicted and that those who know Your name will never be forsaken. How long shall our enemies be exalted over us?
Leader: We acknowledged our own sins against You. We confess these transgressions with the faith that you will now forgive us.
Congregation: Let the lying lips of the wicked be silenced and call them to account for their sins so they may terrify us no more. Let those who dig holes fall into the pits they make. Let the trouble they cause recoil on them. The violence they perpetuate come down on their own heads.
Leader: For those of us who have done evil. We ask thy forgiveness and mercy. We repent of these sins.
Congregation: Take away, O Lord, the desires and propensities of the wicked to be violent and the unrighteous to give thanks unto Your name. They are also our sons and daughters and You are the father of us all. But what has a man gained if he owns great wealth and loose his soul?
Leader: We lay our requests before You and wait with expectation.
Congregation: Weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning.
Leader: Let truth, peace and prosperity return to Jamaica so that the land may yield her increase and our children inherit a new land.
Congregation: From everlasting to everlasting, thou art God. May Your mercy endure forever.
All: Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Amen. Amen. Amen.

An Idea Factory: An Idea Whose Time Has Come

2010-04-01T19:20:00.000-07:00

A Think-Tank for Jamaica: Improving Political Decision Making through Research, Analysis and Consensus Building.

Basil Waine Kong, Ph.D., JD

Nothing is more powerful than an idea whose time has arrived. Chile climbed from 3rd world status to a booming economy with good ideas and purposeful implementation. Their leaders decided to rid the country of graft and corruption, educate their people, feed their citizens and increase exports by expanding agriculture. These initiatives transformed a country in a brief ten years.

It is becoming increasingly clear that Jamaica needs an institute where the full time occupation of really bright and committed people is to focus on generating ideas and guiding the changes needed to empower our people to unleash their energy, creativity, innovative and competitive spirit in their quest for financial security, health and happiness. The value of an institute to address a wide array of public policy issues at both national and local levels cannot be overestimated. Let us act quickly before we cross the Rubicon and lose hope. Without vision, our people perish.

Almost all important political and social change started with an idea. The ideas often originated with people who spent a great deal of their lives thinking and focusing on solutions to problems that plague the rest of us. Across the political or ideological spectrum, it would be difficult in the modern age to point to any major public policy initiative that did not originate from a think tank of some sort. Well researched, analyzed and developed ideas are important first steps to addressing the social, economic and legal issues facing our country. Objective non-partisan analysis and effective solutions are desperately needed and are essential for nation building.

As the incubator of innovative ideas, the proposed Jamaican Think-Tank (JTT) would work with decision makers in both the public and private sectors to find solutions to our difficult, sensitive, and important problems. In the United States, Health Care Reform, welfare reform, School Vouchers, Social Security, Medicare, Medicaid, the War on Poverty Program and The Great Society initiatives all evolved out of think tanks.

Jamaicans have excelled in every field of human endeavor. Unfortunately, the United States, Europe and Canada are, on the most part, the beneficiary of our talents and contributions because of the migration of talented individuals from our island. These scholars are anxious to participate in the development of Jamaica in some meaningful way but are never asked. There is currently no forum to garner their input and make use of their formidable insights and intellectual acumen, the incubators of which may have been cultures far from the shores of Jamaica.

The Internet has made communication cheap, easy and immediate. It is now possible to bring a diverse group of scholars together to interact and brainstorm (at will) regardless of where they may live in the world. Because we are goal oriented, we can also contract with scholars to research specific topics and encourage solutions to well-defined problems and judge their righteousness based on their success in addressing Jamaica’s challenges.

Just like a butterfly flapping its wings can be the start of a hurricane, an idea can grow into an action and a movement once the tipping point is reached. An original idea may occur to someone while reading, praying, sitting in a barbershop,conversing over a game of dominoes or having a drink with friends. It could be subsequently presented in an article or book, brought up in discussions with more friends and colleagues in a speech at a conference or even a simple letter to the editor published in a local newspaper. As more and more people begin to talk about the idea, it will be helped along by people who may benefit financially in its adoption and the audience expands. Eventually political leaders climb on board and make it happen often claiming the credit.

The objectives of our Think-Tank:

1. supply experts to testify on various laws under consideration;

2. write articles for the op-ed pages of newspapers, and appear as TV commentators;

3. advise political aspirants and elected leaders;

4. lead orientation seminars to train incoming members of parliament;

5. create viable alternatives to programs that are not meeting expected objectives;

6. Study, suggest solutions and help to implement streamlined and workable government bureaucratic procedures;

7. Conduct impact studies for proposed programs;

8. Investigate unmet needs in the country and propose programs that could address these needs;

9. Investigate how some government policies are causing road blocks and stifling innovation and find the private sector solutions to better address and reform them;

10. Encourage research and provide a forum for scholarly interaction;

11. Derive income from consulting or research work related to our mandate (Ideas can be marketed like products);

12. Build expertise and institutional memory that could be brought to bear in later years when our political leaders are ready to address them;

13. Convene monthly issue related as well as an annual high level conferences;

14. Travel to distant shores to learn how other countries address these challenges.

This proposed non-government organization (NGO) will be home to our greatest and most creative Jamaican intellectuals and provide them with a forum to offer advice as well as prepare and publish position papers outlining clear options, and solutions that will be both effective and enduring if implemented.

Some of the formidable challenges needing thoughtful attention from the JTT include:

1, Overcoming Poverty.

2. Reducing Crime and Violence.

3. Eliminating Illiteracy by educating the all Jamaicans regardless of their ability to pay for school fees.

4. Developing skill training programs.

5. Promoting business and overcoming unemployment.

6. Promoting higher education regardless of the ability of a student to pay.

6. Improving the health of our people.

7. Using the law to meet the needs of our people.

8. Maximizing the use of renewable and alternative energy.

9. Providing adequate housing.

10. Protecting and improving our environment (air, water, oceans, rivers, etc.).

11. Developing the talents of our people---making it possible for them to become all they can be.

If we play or cards right, I foresee an explosion of intellectual activity and the generation of ideas that will transform and guide Jamaica to prosperity for all its citizens. One does not have to be a politician or actively engaged in the political process to change the direction of our country. This could be the beginning of a revolution that will set the stage for Jamaica to become the paradise it was always meant to be.

Do you know how this institute could be funded? Tell me what you think!

_______________________

JAMAICAN IRONIES

Stanley Redwood

Jamaica has the most churches per population with some of the highest levels of immorality, criminality and corruption. We have one of the highest debt to GDP ratio with one of the highest densities of the displays of affluence (cell phones, SUVs, mansions, etc.), with 50 plus million dollars mansions on streets gutted with potholes and with no running water. We are so renowned for our hospitality to tourists, yet so brutally violent to our own people. We are among the happiest peoples of the world, yet we are so frustrated, disappointed, angry and irritable. We are surrounded by such natural and feminine beauty, yet we are so coarse on the inside and require so much cosmetics, wigs and bleaching. We have such talents and potentials yet are so underdeveloped; and we have so much ambition juxtaposed with so much underachievement and mediocrity.

These paradoxes underscore the need for us to get to the heart of some of our fundamental and ideological issues and challenges. We have tended to come to our problems from the back end with remedies, rather than from the front end with prevention and mitigation which ought to include:

1. A spirit of patriotism,

2. Moral and social education,

3. Population growth control, (birth control),

4. Personal and collective pride, self-esteem/worth,

5. Personal and national fiscal prudence and restrictions,

6. Medium and long term planning, and

7. Human development, (with economic education and entrepreneurial training),

I am happy to see the Fourth (Regulatory) Branch of Government getting some currency, from the the Contractor General and ACP Justine Felice. Jamaica is in dire need of it. There should be a clear plan of action going forward. This could be a most abiding contribution to Jamaica's development if we can get our leaders to own and hone the related ideas.