The Corruption Problem

The best news this beleaguered nation has had for years, came via the Corruption Index which shows that corruption is finally on the decline in Jamaica. Because for years, corruption has been having a debilitating effect on this nation, robbing all of us of opportunities as the corrupt practices of a few has been slowly bankrupting the nation.

A decline from position 99 to 87....a 12 place drop in the corruption perception index. is therefore a great, welcome leap forward. While we welcome the direction in which the country in going , we cannot become complacent however, for in the Caribbean we are still far more corrupt than other members of Caricom, all of whom are doing much better than we are in terms of growth and progress.

Since the corruption that affects us most is propelled by the actions of politicians and persons employed to the public service, one way that we could make a great leap forward is to set up a commission to ban certain persons from holding public office for life. This is done in Nigeria where corruption is also a serious problem.

Such banning would of course be based on their track record and could not be based on actual conviction in the courts. For as we know, it is almost impossible to get a conviction of wealthy persons such as politicians and corrupt bureaucrats in this society.

So such a body would have to do their assessment based on the debilitating effect that the actions of persons who have held public office in the past, have had on the country. A perfect example of a debilitating effect is the type of contract that was signed on our behalf with the purchasers of the once publicly owned JPS...... a contract which never put the interest of Jamaicans in the forefront but instead has put us all in the position where were now have the most expensive electticity rates in the region, a reality which will stymie our progress for decades to come.

And there are numerous other acts that have been done supposedly on our behalf by those who we employed but who did not put our interests in the forefront, for which we continue to pay dearly.

So until we do something revolutionary, we will only continue limping along and celebrating minor gains which though good, still keep us at the bottom of the pile in the region.

Cuna Cuna Trail etc.

Ever since we went to Millbank and had that delicious Maroon food consisting of turned cornmeal and janga run dung, some of us Fun and Thrill members have been dying to repeat the process ...no the food. 

So, when our environmentalist Kim who does a lot of work in the Rio Grande valley suggested we do a hike along the Cuna Cuna trail and end up at a maroon village where we would again be treated to that super appetizing gourmet delight, I have been raring to go.......

The Cuna Cuna trail is an over five hundred year old trail that the maroons established on a ridge between the Blue Mountain and John Crow mountain ranges (the Blue Mountains are to the west and John Crow to the east) first, to escape from the British who wanted to dominate them and later to transport runaway slaves that they captured for a bounty, between the parishes of Portland and St. Thomas . 

This was then an arduous trail which the British soldiers with all their training could not maneuver for not only was it heavily forested but also there are lots of caves and other sections where the Maroons could hide out and ambush them. 

Also, it has an abundance of springs with fresh life giving water which allowed them to hide out for long periods at a time.

In them old days when there were no cell phones, the Maroons had their own means of communication, the abeng. This is an instrument made from cow horn and it can send various predetermined signals depending on how they blow it. 

The sound of the abeng could easily carry through the silent, ominous hills from one parish to the other. They also used drums to send signals for religious ceremonies. Drums are made form goats' skins....... the one made from the female goat is called a Bange and has a high sound . The one from the ram skin is the Cass and has a deeper sound. 

These tools are still being used by the maroons who live in villages between Hayfield in St. Thomas to those at the headquarters at Moore Town, otherwise called Maroon Town but for ceremonial purposes, not guerrilla warfare.

It is significant that the opportunity that we got to hike the 5 mile long trail through the spectacular, undulating mountain side was on the eve of the annual National Heroes day. Of course, Nanny, the maroon leader who led her people to victory, is our only female National hero, though she is somewhat of a mythical figure as she was alleged to have the power to catch bullets being fired by the British in her bottom and fire them back at the enemy.

Just before 7 am on Sunday 17th October, 26 of us headed out in 6 vehicles and drove to Hayfield, a village of around 200 person just above Bath in St. Thomas. Like most country roads, it was narrow and in poor condition but since we had commuted in SUV's is was not difficult.

On the way up into the district, Howie, with whom I was travelling, saw a little boy between 6 and 8 years old, with a large lighted spliff in his hand. Horrified he drew up beside him told him to hand it over, but he refused and got ready to run away. As we went further up the hill we saw a man a and reported to him that a young boy was coming up smoking a big spliff. The man just laughed so we were shocked thinking it may have been a tradition in the area , but thank heavens when we joined up with our guide "Shaggy" and related the incident to him, he said he had never seen kids smoking ganja in the area so it was not a tradition.

I had made the arrangements for the trip with Ms. Wilkes who Kim and connected me with and it turned out that she has been the Chief of the Bownden Pen Maroons for some twenty years. How the villages work is that each one has its own maroon Chief and they all sit on the council at Moore town under the chairmanship of the overall Chief who is elected by the democratic process. The Maroons look after their own internal affairs although things like infrastructural work is done by the Government of Jamaica. However they deal with their crime problem except murder and criminal activities in their villages are far below the Jamaican average.

Although the cost of the journey was quite expensive, $500 to use the trail and $300 each for the guide, when we saw how well kept the trail was it was worth the money. This is an extremely treacherous area with lots of break aways but they have put is cement bridges and bamboo railings all along the way. And the path is not at all overgrown despite the high level of rainfall in the area. Fact is it is the best kept trail I have ever seen in any part of Jamaica, even having two nice rest stops with bathroom facilities and benches so that hikers can rest their weary bodies for a while.

Anyway the role of the guide was greatly exaggerated as I was told he would give us all the historical information as we went along but it turned out that Shaggy knew very little more about Maroon history than we did! He was pleasant anyway and it turns out that he is the father of "Papcaan" that rising DJ who along with Vybes Kartel made the popular and catchy tune "Mi Clarks". Shaggy proudly told us how his son got 80 pairs of Clarks shoes from the company whose sales in the Caribbean has risen over 300%, since the song became a hit! Anyway he seems to be doing well otherwise as he is now on a tour of Europe. 

Happy for him.

Anyway back to the trail . The area is absolutely beautiful...... lush, green and picturesque. The view from all angles is really awesome and the climate cool and pleasant. Shaggy did point out a few plants like the "Catchman Fig". This is a parasite but it grows into a huge tree. The one he pointed out had two huge trunks with a passage between and we walked though it on the trail. We were also introduced to the cabbage Wood tree which he said is very tough and they use in construction. A fruit I had never heard about is the Mammee which is brown and round. They say it tastes like a mango and Desiree says they have it in Guyana. 

Of course, the trail has a wide variety of ferns including the Giant Tree Fern and he did name several varieties for us. Also, brightly coloured lillies popped up just about everywhere and the profusion of palms was ever so pleasant. A funny moment was when one of the hikers asked him which road was close by as she had heard a car blowing its horn. Shaggy informed her that it was a bird called the Shine Eye! He also pointed out to us the feeding areas of the Blue dove which seems to scratch out large areas on the ground as it searches for insects. Although he promised that we would find some edible fruit to pick us up, we were not lucky enough to see and fit guavas or jack fruit that were accessible. Quite frankly in all my days of hiking I have never seen deeper ravines so I can't figure how they can get any of the fruits growing on the edges of the trail anyway.

After about three hours, we got to the cottages operated by the Bowden Pen Maroons and were met by the chief Mrs. Wilkes. Although the had told me on the telephone that we might not be able to get any janga for when it rains they are washed away, a super disappointment was that she forgot to do the turned cornmeal, the lame excuse being that since they usually eat that with the janga, it had slipped her. The food was great anyway especially the wild boar. I don't know how non pork eaters survive. Wow!

After lunch some of the macho people went to the Rio Grande River for a swim, but although I was dying for a bath to cool down, after a full belly, I wasn't going anywhere but back to the vehicle.

The walk to Bowden Pen had quite an effect on some of the participants who are not accustomed to long arduous hours of exercise. Among them, was my neighbour Verleta. 

By the way, Betty had turned back from we started the trail and Charles had gone back to the car with her then caught up with us when we got to the cottage. Well would you believe he was able to find a taxi in the middle of no where!!! For you have to understand that the road just below Milbank had broken away about two years before so they have only one or two cars in the Comfort Castle/Milbank area and passengers have to walk pass the breakaway and get other cars on the other side to get to Port Antonio.

Well somehow Charles found one of the cars and invited person s to ride back. Within minutes the deportee had eight former hikers including Verleta who really had a challenge coming down and Grace who had lost her shoes and had determinedly continued hiking in her socks from way up the hill. After they got to Port Antonio they took a minibus to St. Thomas and linked back up with us at the Bath turn off just after Port Morant.

The rest of us walked back up the Cuna Cuna trail and it was really an easy hike for the highest point was just around 2,500 feet above sea level, just over a third the height of the Blue Mountain peak and we got back to Kingston just after 8pm after an arduous but pleasant day.

Since we had nothing planned for the National Heroes Day holiday next day, Damit had asked me what I was doing and I had told him I was going to take a short ride and see how far up Mountain Spring road I could go up . Would you believe that he called me at 5.30 am! Anyway we linked up at about 6.30 am by Burger king at Barbican road and were riding slowly up the hill.

When we almost got to our regular meeting point at Widcome, we saw a number of riders and I asked Damit who they were as I couldn't believe they were Fun and Thrills riders as we had no arrangement to ride on Monday. Well it truned out to be Orrrel, Michael, Maurice and Howie . It was almost an absolutely impossible coincidence! They the are A class riders and they had decided among themselves to also ride up Mountain Spring the very same route and time we had!

After we all had a good laugh at the turn of events, they rode off leaving Damit and I behind. My granny gear was giving problems however and just as I passed over the fording my chain fell off.

 Anyway, determinedly I got back on and was doing ok until we passed where the Rasta man sells the fruits and two women walkers took over the good side of the road, forcing me into the sand. I nearly fell and had to push over the ridge until I got to the flat area where I again mounted.

By then Damit had abandoned me and I did ok until I got to the next steep section . That's when I gave again up but having passed where I had given up on my first try, I did not all at all feel badly.

However it is only when you are dead tired that you realise how heavy the damn bicycle is, for pushing it up to wailing wall was a super challenge. After resting there a while I again mounted to try out the real steep part of the the hill but by bicycle kept doing the wheelie as the front wheel kept lifting up. Again I dismounted and pushed with great effort over the super steep section.

The only thing that kept me going was the fact that we had ordered breakfast from Howie and he had kindly been voluntered by us to find us something to eat! After the super steep section I again mounted and almost reached Peter Phillips' back gate then again gave up again, being totally out of breath. Just then, my phone rang and it was Damit telling me not to go home as they were coming to rescue me. To make him feel bad for abandoning me, I told him I was already at home so not to bother and I kept on punishing up the hill. Anyway as I broke the corner I saw Maurice and Howie walking down to rescue, me trailed by Michael, Damit and Orrel. Maurice and Howie took turns pushing the extra heavy bicycle up to Howie's home so I could finish the journey with a little dignity (not puffing and blowing like an overworked train).

We were served delicious brewed coffee and breakfast followed.

What had started out as a mere leisurely ride which I had planned to abort the minute it became hard, turned out to be a tiring but a wonderful start to the holiday morning.

The camaraderie and just sitting on top of the hill looking down on the beautiful, peaceful city, invigorated me to the point that I was able to sit down and do this long boring blog without even stopping to think for a minute. I guess it is obvious that I didn't think!

CAUGHT!

Boy did we ever catch him this time!

I am speaking about F&T ride organiser and super athlethe Howie. It was his birthday on Saturday 8th October and we planned a birthday party for an entire week and he did not even get a whiff of it. I say this time as two years ago I had a surprise birthday party for him after he single handely engineered the protection for my home after Gustav had removed the retaining wall, and that time he said he knew I was up to something from I invited him over for curry goat!

This time it was absolutely beautifully executed and Damit had even done something to the F&T email account in order that all mail went to everyone but Howie!

The idea for the party was floated by Barry wheile we were at a function at the Chinese Benevolent Society a week before. (Howie was also there) . He floated the idea to Michelle and I and Michelle immediately volunteered to do the soup and a bread pudding and I volunteered my house and to do some stuff.

The idea immediately took on a life of its own once everyone else was advised, for Howie is highly regarded by one and all. What even made it more difficult for him to even think we were doing something was the fact that at breakfast on Saturday, we gave him a card signed by everyone and took lots of pictures of all the girls kissing him and everyone making much of him!(I don't even have one picture for this blog for although lots are taken at every event, we they are never posted for general consumption! ) It was so impressive that he just could not imagine anything else was in store.

That evening, Solay used her feminine wiles to get him to pick her up and it was only when he hit my road and saw his brother's vehicle and some others that he recognised, that he had an inkling that something was not right.

It was a wonderful evening despite the rain. I thought we had an abundance of food which could not be finished but by the time poor Orrel arrived after braving the rains to drive from the northcoast, he barely got any. ...and you know how Orrel likes food! In fact so determined that he was to be part of the affair that he had a lady deliver bottles of wine during the day.

Special thanks to Barry too who braved the rains to come and assist me before hand in setting up the canopy etc for the party. Sharleen was also a great help in that she assisted in the cleaning up.

The food was great, the camaradie wonderful and all the active riders had a part in the success of the affair for everyone brought something to ensure that we all had a great time.

A bungling bureaucracy

For years, I have had real estate business dealings with National Housing Trust (NHT) and have often had occasion to say it is one of the most efficient government organisations that I have ever encountered.

Not anymore however, for my recent experience indicates that the Trust has now become a bungling bureaucracy.

In March this year, I was sent a letter inviting me to pay off my mortgage and when I saw how attractive the savings would be, jumped to do so. This was after calling to find out what the discharge fees etc would be. I then paid the sum in full only to get a letter dated 6 th April 2010 informing me that what I had paid earlier was insufficient to close the deal as a balance of $2198.44 remained.

After complaining that I had received an earlier sum and paying it and getting the usual apology, I asked if this new sum could be paid electronically and was told I would have to come in. So I went in and as is customary when one has a bill to pay, I headed to the cashier and got my receipt after being told the process takes approximately six weeks to complete. This was the 7th May, 2010.

I basically forgot about the whole thing until running into the receipt four months later and remembering that they had not returned the security. I called them only to hear that a letter had been sent to me in September (which I am yet to receive) that I still owed the balance.

When I gave the receipt number to the lady in the Loan Management Department, she said I should bring in my receipt as they had no record of it.

What I learnt on my visit to the NHT the next day, left me speechless for I was then told that the reason why they had no record of the payment was because I had not advised the Loan Management Department that the money had been paid!

When I asked in amazement if the cashier does not send an advice to the relevant departments when payment is made, I was told no for the borrower needs to go to Customer service before making payments, for them to start the paperwork. When I showed her the letter I had received which had no such instructions and pointed out that the cashier did not say that the receipt should have been taken to another department, a sheepish apology was made. The fact is however, it is not the poor clerk who dealt with me who was at fault but the super bureaucrat who devised this rigmarole in this the electronic age 2010!

Can you imagine if this bureaucrat worked at the Collector of Taxes? What would happen is that ticketed persons, after paying the fine,would have to take their receipt to the Police Traffic Department downtowwn, to show they had paid the fine! Worse, if one was paying property tax one would have to drive to the relevant Parish Council to show that the taxes had been paid! My God, what a thought!

I am absolutely amazed that someone in management at the NHT could have devised such a paper pushing bureaucratic system! Is this how they create "jobs for the boys" .....by setting up departments all over the place for customers to trudge to?

All I can say is that if this was a private company, whoever designed this system would have been retired in the public interest and put on a pension long before computers were invented!

Quashie River sink hole

Well we finally got the opportunity to climb down that steep ladder into the Quashie river sink hole, aka Rat Bat cave, but 'chicken " Joan who is terrified of heights, whimped out.



All who go on adventure treks with Fun and Thrills have at one time heard of Rat Bat Cave in the Cockpit country and most of us have always wished to visit it, although it is reputed to have the coldest water in Jamaica. After having jumped into so many very cold rivers therefore, it was with great anticipation that we approached the ride that was finally organised to give us the opportunity to feel this super cold water for ourselves.

Coincidentally, ride organiser Howie, just happened to mention to me some weeks ago that they really wanted to go there soon. Bernie (my brother) and his wife Judy were due to come to Jamaica for the weekend of the 17/9-20/9 but since it was a Cornwall college affair and they would be out most times and no domino session was planned, I had told them I wouldn't bother to come down to the beach house at Silver Sands. So when I told Howie about the upcoming weekend when "Winedown " would be virtually empty, he immediately got Michael to start organising a ride to Ulster Spring, Trelawny (which is where I had heard Rat Bat Cave was) with Silver Sands as the base.

So down we went on Friday night (17/0 )with the intention to ride on early on Saturday morning. We had a fully house and lots of blow up beds that we did not need and Damit and Sharlene stayed in St. Ann's. Bay with Chris. Saturday monning they were at Windeown by 5 am so whether we liked it or not we had to get up.

The ride was wonderful as the climate was cool and fresh. The route extremely scenic and the hills though longwere not particularly steep. We bought breakfast in Clark's town (hog wash inna the first water) for although it was too early to eat, there was no guarantee that any of the other small towns along the way had cook shops. So Shasheena who was driving the support vehicle went back to collect it for us by 8am and as we rode and the stomachs growled, it seemed like forever before she came with the food. When she did we stopped by a shop owned by a very nice lady, Mrs. Brisset, who gave us a ripe pear to go with breakfast and was most accomodating with her bathroom facilities and water to wash our hands.

The feared "Alps" which conjured up images of really steep inclines, was not as bad as I had expected so there is some merit in my continuing to ride Beverly hills and Long mountain on Saturdays.

I had heard the ride was to Ulster Spring and had determined that I would ride to that district. When we got there, Chris' sister in law who is Deputy Speaker of the house and MP for the area, saw her and stopped. When she heard our destination was Rat Bat Cave she said that we had to go to Albert Town which was some miles further and worse, up hill all the way from Ulster Spring. I immdeidately (I was the only one) abandoned the bicycle and decided to help Shasheena with the driving. Actually it turned out that we did not have to go to Albert Town but could turn off on a bad road and go through German Town (I always thought the only German Town we had was in Westmorland, but I live and learn.

This one is in Trelawny and while you do not see white people around like in Seaforth Town, you could see the signs that they were mixed. The road was extrelely bad but it was downhill all the way. However I did not regret not riding for that thype of terrain can be extremely hard on the handsand the arms.

When we parked, it was about a 10 minute hike before we got to the long awaited Rat Bat Cave. Only problem is I never saw a cave only a 90 degree drop into a deep dark ravine!

After venturing along the slippery incline to the edge, I decided I had enough for there is no way I was going to climb down 40 feet to see any cave and lake. So Orrel, Sharlene, Chris and I valiantly hiked back to the vehicle where Michael and Tara were sitting. Michael had stayed behind to watch the bicycles and keep Tara's company but he was fast asleep.

Anyway it was a very hot day and although we were not crazy enough to climb down 4o feet to swim, we wanted to cool off and remembering we had seen a little waterfall along the road we startred out to get cooled down there. When we did arrive, we found it was quite treacherous and slippery but decided we would not turn back but instead head out to "civilisation" where we could get some snacks to buy.

On the way we found a very tiny waterfall under a culvert and happily eased down into it to cool off. The next stop was to find some food and believe it or not, a funeral in the area seemed to have attracted every single member of the several communities we passed through, as just about every house and shop seemed locked up tighter than a sardine can. Eventually near the Ulster Spring school we found a feeding hole and as we headed back to the intersection, we
realised that the others had finished their adventure and had returned.

Luckily, Howie's friend Leslie, who is from Mandeville, had driven over to explore the cave, so she was able to carry back some of the riders. Otherwisde, all us tired troopers would have had to ride back home, albeit it was almost all downhill all the way. So because we got to drive back, only the round the islanders Michael, Howie and Orrel rode back but all of us had a wonderful day with the grand finale being the fabulous white sands beach at Silver Sands, dinner and drinks.

Reaching Reach Falls

Yes we did reach Reach falls, as impossible as it looked due to the heavy rains. And it turned out to be a great day as the sun shone brilliantly once we had arrived.

On Sunday 12th September 2010, just under twenty riders left headquarters just before 5am for the long ride to Portland. It was absolutely exhilarating riding in the early morning , first in the dark then in the wonderful , cool, fresh dawn as the sun rose gradually. I think I could ride around the entire island any time if the days just stopped at dawn or that type of climate lasted all day.

The ride to Morant bay was not at all exhaustive for me since it was probably the third time I had done it. I saw Damit briefly at Harbour View and never again until we got to the falls!

Did you know that the Salt Pond at Yallahs is a fantastically beautiful sight in the early morning? All the vegetation around it is in a slew of shades of green and almost uniform while the water is still and glistening. So the reflection of the flora shows up magnificently in the water. It was like a painting........ one of the most beautiful sights I had ever seen and I could have cried as I did not have my camera. Barry had been one of our support drivers and I had asked him to get my green knapsack out of Michael's vehicle for me to get my sun glasses. That's the bag that also had my camera. He rushed back and brought a green bag, but alas it was not mine. You see Andrew had given us all bags from "Dunns electric" and most of them were green. So I told him that my bag had a pair of slippers on top. So he rushed back and brought me another green bag, but alas and alack, again it was not mine as obviously he did not bother to look inside. So I never got my bag with the essentials- dark glasses and camera until we got to Morant bay and I retrieved it myself. Men, they can't look for anything!

Charles, Sharon and Richard had left out earlier than we did with Chris as their backup driver but we found them in Yallahs as Charles had a puncture and rim problems after dropping in pothole and had to wake up a man who operated a bicycle shop to help him out.

At Yallahs I took off before the others reached as I am a slow rider. So did Sharon and Richard but I passed them quickly. However I was soon passed by Maurice, Gary and Orrel and never saw them again until we got to Morant bay. There we regrouped, collected for breakfast sent Barry off to collect it but after a long wait, everyone had not arrived as Michael was with a very slow rider so up to when I moved out (early again) they had not arrived.

In Morant Bay we were joined by Michelle and her brother Cary who rode from there. Charles and I left out together from Morant Bay but I left him and was ahead until Gary, Orrel and Robert (a professional rider who had not ridden for years) passed me. I tried to keep up with them but I never even saw their tail light again after a short distance. On the way, I saw two young professional riders speeding in the other direction towards Morant bay and assumed they were going to Kingston but when they turned back and caught us up later, they said they were from a racing team in Port Antonio and had ridden to Morant bay and were on their way back home.

Just after I passed Prospect Beach it started to rain and the that was most welcome as it really cooled me down. By the time iIhad passed the turn off to Perra beach however I was dead tired and was just hoping I could see Barry coming but it seemed like forever before he appeared so I got in and happily gave up riding for the day.

While Iwas in the van I was holding some of the breakfasts in my lap and my phone started ringing. However, I decided I couldn't bother to put down the food to get to it but because the calls were so persistent, I finally did. It was a near frustrated Sharon who told me that Michelle had fallen after hitting a pothole and we needed to turn back to help out.

Shortly after we passed Golden Grove we saw some of our party gathered around her. Fortunately the damage was superficial . She was in good company in "kicking puppa lick" for although I missed it, I hear the professionals Maurice and Robert also had a similar fate after dropping in potholes. You see when it rains (and it was really pouring in some areas) sometimes when you see puddles of water, they are really large potholes in disguise and this is what often leads to our demise. Anyway those falls damaged only their pride as no one was badly hurt!

After Amity Hall we came up on a major flood as the Savage river broke its banks and was rushing across the road. By then we had been joined by Tara and her mom and Stefan and family who had decided to drive all the way. Tara was very worried that her car could not make it through the flooded roadway but it looked far more ominous than it was.

By that time I was starving and when we stopped shortly after, the pickup would not start so it gave those of us there the perfect opportunity to dive into the breakfast. By the time we got to Reach Falls, Damit, Maurice, Gary, Robert and Orrel were already there. Howie and Cary would have reached too but they had stopped off at the turn off to the falls to direct us.

A number of persons went back to Kingston shortly without ever enjoying the falls. Most of us stayed however. Te sun was out and we had a wonderful swim and went in and out of the cave to get a wonderful water massage's to boot. Although Penny is some seven months pregnant and looked like she could deliver at any minute, she had a ball climbing the rocks above the falls.

In conversation, the life guard told me how deceptive the area was for on one holiday alone, they had to save 14 people. That's quite a record! Anyway, he said they have never had a drowning there, which is comforting, considering how daring we Jamaicans tend to be. He even told me about one guy who he had to save twice in one day and had to tell him that if he wanted to commit suicide he should go elsewhere!

We left after 3 pm and being happy but hungry, stopped at the first shop we saw and bought out all the stock of bun and cheese. At Yallahs, we bought the most delicious chicken foot soup I had ever had in my life. So comfortable was my stomach by then that I didn't even pay the jerk pork man any mind that day!

Then it was back to Kingston just after 6pm. Barry had to admit that he was tired although her never rode, so you can imagine how the rest of us felt, especially poor Howie who developed a very painful cramp after the ride. Anyway I am sure if you ask him he would tell you he never regretted a minute of the the entire expedition.

For more photographs, see;http://www.facebook.com/album.phpaid=245355&id=763366822#!/albumphpaid=245355&id=763366822&fbid=468238651822&ref=mf

Michael Manley would have been proud.

As I now come to terms with the fact that it is probably going to take generations before Jamaica gets decent political leadership, I realise how stupid it was of me to have been so easily fooled a second time. After all we are supposed to learn from experience aren't we?

I recall back in the late 60's when I lived in Canada and all we were hearing about was of the moral and financial decay taking place in Jamaica. In fact, the hit tune "Everything crash" seemed to seemed to sum it all up most appropriately. Then came the knight in shining armour, Michael Manley who rehashed all the moral problems the country was having and promised to fix them all. What made him so convincing was that he seemed to have his ears to the ground and was hearing the real beefs that people were having especially the fact that the outcome of moral slippery slope that the country was on, seemed certain to dwarf every other challenge we as a new nation had.

Within weeks of Michael coming to Canada and addressing us, we decided to return home to try and help to build the country under his leadership.

Experience soon taught us however that Manley never meant one word of what he uttered in his campaign speeches and had only articulated those popular views to fool the electorate. In fact, so discredited did Manley become that within years his popular name was "Manlie".

One would have thought that having had that rude awakening after the Manley experience, I would never again fall for the line. But I did in 2007. For once again the country was on aa rapid moral slide downwards as every form of corruption, illegality and brutality had become the norm in the society.

Bruce Golding would have been quite young when Manley's strategy worked in the 70's and although he was from the opposing party, he obviously recognised its worth and adopted it in the 2000's ..... listening to the cry of the people for moral renewal in the country then articulating the solutions very convincingly.

Who could have expected that the same person who had appeared so remorseful about having had links with the underworld, making both Seaga and PJ Patterson look like unrepentant goons during a widely watched telivision debate, could have turned out to be such an immoral leader?

His thrust to use the power of the state to prevent a major crime figure , Christopher Dudus Coke from being extradited to the USA, under the guise that he was protecting the rights of a Jamaican citizen, finds uncomfortable comparison with the use of fraternal relations with Fidel Castro by Michael Manley to hide George Flash and Tony Brown, two notorious PNP gunmen, in Cuba when the police started to search for them for the murder of Ted Ogilvie.

And if we had thought that the PNP was prepared to lessen its links with vicious gunmen after the death of Manley, we got a rude awakening when the same party under the leadership of P.J. Patterson chose the mass murderer Bulbie over their own member of parliament Heather Robinson in 1995. Oh how well those succeding Manley (in both parties) have learnt!

These two parities that alternate in government are nothing but criminal organisations posing as political parties. Manley would have been proud of his legacy.