Moments ago, I was sitting on a bench, outside my office, surveying the weekly damage of Mojito Monday when I noticed a group of local drunkards leaving the plaza. A couple of them piled into a car, and slowly began to drive out, alongside a group that was heading out on foot. The windows were down and they were continuing their conversation as they headed towards South Avenue. Suddenly, one girl throws herself (inexplicably), into the car, head straight into the windshield. Of course, the driver was so busy talking to one of the walkers, he just kept driving, thrusting the girl onto the pavement.
The car stops, and the girl lays slumped between the car and the pavement. She is fuming. She starts yelling at the driver, accusing him of “licking her down”. The driver gets out of the car, and argues that she “tried to mash up his car”. The friendly group, turns ugly, arguing about who was wrong in this situation.
“You must look where you going!” “You must not fling yourself into a moving car!”
Shouts and screams, ring out across Southdale Plaza, as I look on, shaking my head. Some people like to say Jamaicans are sheep. They find someone to lead them (usually the person who screams the loudest and makes the littlest sense), and they bah-bah behind them. That isn’t true. We are a nation of goats. We swallow the garbage that gets left behind, and we are dumb enough to JUMP INTO A MOVING VEHICLE and dare to ask WHY IT HIT YOU DOWN.
Goats, I say, goats!
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