Elect them. Honeymoon begins. Honeymoon is short-lived. Promises remain unkept. Country suffers. Countrymen complain. Opposing side complains. Election called. New promises made. Incentives given. A winner named.
Lather, rinse, repeat.
I have no interest in the promises of Portia, Bruce, Andrew, or any of these other people who have unfortunately been placed in positions of power even after countless demonstrations that they do not have my or my country’s best interests at heart.
I am only interested in what they can do for the development of this country that we all want to see prosper. Are any of us really satisfied with what is happening?
I’m sorry, but I’m not.
Jamaica has too much potential to have remained stagnant for so long. There is no reason for Jamaica to still be categorized as a developing country.
I am so tired of turning on my television and seeing, time and time again
the finger pointing
he said she said
dragging each other through the dirt
and trying to make one party look better by comparison.
Why are we so easily satisfied with better by comparison? Is this really 2011? Haven’t we learned anything after almost 50 years of the same old routine? If you want a different outcome, you have to do something different.
I am unsatisfied. And I won’t be until something changes.
Until I can wear a shirt of any colour without fear of repercussion.
Until I can go about my day without being bombarded with empty party promises, political announcements and other associated paraphenilia.
Until I can engage in an intellectual conversation with my fellow Jamaican about politics without either party resorting to PNP/JLP arguments.
Until I can enjoy the benefits of my hard-earned and even harder-to-part-with tax dollars three hundred and sixty-five days a year, not only just before an upcoming election.
Until schoolchildren can walk to and from school without fear, without concern for the relationship between the colour of their uniform and the area they live in or travel through.
Until your coworker can be a Labourite in a PNP community (or vice versa) and experience no reprisals or ostracization.
Until there are no designated PNP or JLP communities.
I am not a Labourite. I am not a Comrade. I don’t bleed orange, nor do I bleed green.
I am a Jamaican. And chances are, if you’re reading this, so are you.
Something has to change.