Mark Wignall | Two bullets and it ends

That very first time I saw Tanya she was dressed in flesh-hugging pink, what had to be uncomfortably red stilettos and she was seated on a brown upholstered stool. Tanya was about 18, but she did not allow her young age to hold back her resolve to succeed in whatever faced her.

Senior policemen, businessmen of all sorts, journalists, contractors, real estate developers, et cetera were there enjoying Tanya, her magical smiles and the way she lured many of the men into her loyalty.

The bar was in Grant’s Pen. Even in the time when she became scarce, flirted with marriage, had two children, we still found time in our recreational hours to visit Tanya. Our loyalties were to her, not the bar.

In time it came to us that she had bought a bar and was in the process of expanding on it. Then she found herself in a relationship with a man who fell hard in love with her. The man had a bar and he sold it to her for very reasonable terms. Tanya merged the two bars and bought a bigger one. As the years raced on and Tanya lost her youthful beauty, so did she share with some of us her plans to continuously expand the size of her business and even rent a part as extra income.

Tanya may have told a few of us that her life was being pressured by someone who wanted to buy the business from her. As far as she was concerned, no parson, teacher, or calm social worker would join with thug, community don or hit man to dislodge her from her long0term plans.

The street side vendor thought that the double explosion from the bike muffler was purely that, something annoying, very disturbing and in this instance. Then it was that he knew it was no bike muffler.

He and they walked over to where Tanya had fallen on the hard cement tiles. She was quite still and very dead.

GREED, EXTORTION AND HITS

There have been many instances of shooting deaths related to the extreme demand of land, business and property and cash. All that is left is public speculation as even the Jamaica Constabulary Force (JCF) is left puzzled and fearing to investigate some who may be uncomfortably close to key figures in the JCF.

Of course we are also familiar with the old saying, ‘behind every great fortune, there is a great crime’.

That is not what is of import now. Many ‘small’ people prey on each other until blood is spilled. Many in the community knew the details, but where hit men and criminal dons enter the picture, the atmosphere embraces the law of silence.

The business space which was demanded and eventually stolen by the spilling of Tanya’s blood has since expanded, meaning that it is physically set up in other parishes. So far it seems to be a wild, runaway business success. On that basis, was it therefore justified to steal from Tanya the only thing that really belonged to her?

THE PAIN OF WEST INDIES CRICKET

The man writes, “I remember at Sabina Park, way back then sitting with just regular, hardworking fellow Jamaicans, such as bus drivers, masons, plumbers, car mechanics and gardeners. They did not have much money, but the little they had they spent to go to Sabina Park to watch the WI play. The smiles on their faces and the joy the WI team brought made them feel like millionaires. We had a special feeling; we were part of something very special. A team of great players from different Caribbean countries, who played together as a team and beat all teams they came up against. The small, irrelevant West Indies, due to its cricket team was now known throughout the world and no longer irrelevant. Pride extended all over the Caribbean, from Jamaica to Guyana. We shared a common joy and pride, the WI team, and their magnificent play.”

LAUGHING AT MARKIE G

Years ago a well-known politician told me of the worst possible thing that could happen to a politician in the 1950s, 1960s. A hostile constituent throwing a chamber pot of urine at the politician. One, you could not report it to the police or party central. Two, your politicking is finished for the day and you have to sneak in through your back door.

Too embarrassing. Recently, I was briefly in the company of a few mature men and women. We were discussing the second-most embarrassing thing to happen to a politician. To be laughed at. Most were making Markie G. into a comedian over a microphone incident and the mishandling of a fat, Jamaican badwud.

Somehow Markie G just didn’t fit well inside the Jamaican ‘badword’. Maybe had he uttered words like, ‘Oh heavens’ or ‘dear me’, those would have matched his solid middle-class bona fides.

It confirms what I have previously said. Mark Golding is not yet fully formed as a political leader and nor is he fully known to the point where people would be willing to laugh with him instead of laughing at him and making faux microphone sounds.

Mark Wignall is a political and public affairs analyst. Send feedback to columns@gleanerjm.com and mawigsr@gmail.com.