An Open letter From a Jamaican to David Cameron

Dear Mr. Cameron,

I’ve been hearing a lot about an unfortunate pig situation. Obligatory mention of that aside, I hope you’re doing well and all up-to-date with your business.

Speaking of business, onto that.

I want to start with that all-important rule of public speaking: know your audience. I’m mentioning it to you, although you must have heard it a million times, because herein lies the secret to your fatal error and the reason for this letter. See, your biggest blunder on your visit to Jamaica was not the actual announcement of this prison deal that seemingly has the whole country in a tizzy.

It was the use of those two unfortunate words, albeit words framed in a sizable cushion of platitude and euphemism: “move on“.

I wouldn’t have expected you to know this, you being a busy man and all.  So since this was your first visit to Jamaica (that we know of), let me give you a little insider information on her people.

We’re proud. We have Bob Marley. We have SFP, VCB, YB and UB. We have Tessanne Chin and Jodi-Ann Maxwell and that one movie about the bobsled team. We’re the cool kids of the Caribbean.

See, we’re convinced that there is something special about this haphazard volcano suspended in the ocean. The nature of this THING is not up for debate or question. It must simply be accepted as a verifiable fact (see examples above).

And we’re not just proud. We’re also Afrocentric. Remember Marcus Garvey? He’s one of our National Heroes.

So, with the exception of the occasional *whispers* [weirdo] who will say something like, “If it weren’t for slavery, none of us would be here”…we – for the most part – love and respect the motherland. A few of us are even trying to go back.

We know our history. We know Xaymaca wasn’t “discovered” and we’re not grateful to be here. We accept that this is the way it is. But it doesn’t exactly give us warm fuzzy feelings at night.

So your government’s refusal to apologize for slavery, well…it rubs us the wrong way. I’m not going to sit here and try to justify it to you as if it makes perfect logical sense, because humans rarely do. It has a lot to do with pride, hurt, and – hell – even a hint of jealousy. (Do you think we would care about reparations if we were rich?)

See, in principle we all agree that we should “move on”. But the reality of our lived experiences contrasts pretty radically with that sentiment, rendering it a bit more difficult to pull off. But you know what would help with that, even if only in our minds? An apology.

Besides that, how will it hurt you to apologize? Like seriously, what do you have to lose? I’ve been sitting here trying to justify this decision from your perspective, but the arguments fall weak. At the base of it, I think it’s as a result of that same vice all-too-present on this little island: pride.

You know, sometimes I wonder how we ourselves would have handled this had the roles been reversed. If the serendipitous dice had fallen to our benefit, and your ancestors been the ones enslaved, would an apology now have been easily forthcoming? We’ll never know for sure, but I’m willing to bet the answer is “no”.

Because such is the nature of life and humanity. But I believe in our ability to rise above that.

Now on to the blanket issue that’s being used to cover up our hurt on this issue- the prison. You may have seen a lot of outrage surrounding this prison issue. But I think the commotion is actually a cover for another, more uncomfortable, emotion: confusion.

We don’t know if we should be grateful or offended. We don’t know if this is a showing of goodwill, or one of condescension. We don’t know how wary we should be, how mistrustful, or how optimistic.

You see, with your newfound knowledge of our feelings towards you considered, you should better understand why the prison feels like the proverbial salt being rubbed in the proverbial wound. A friend of mine explained eloquently today, “It’s like someone you don’t like giving you toothbrush and toothpaste as a gift.” I mean, it’s still a gift but it just doesn’t feel like one.

To wrap up, I’ll quit speaking for the collective and talk to you one-on-one.

And I do so at my own peril.

You see, at the risk of pissing off almost every single Facebook friend I hold near and dear, I’m going to come right out and say it: I support the Jamaican government’s acceptance of your “prison deal.”

Honestly David (can I call you David? I feel like I can call you David) all the critiques I’ve seen of the prison rely on the emotion evoked by your use of those two ill-timed words, and your government’s refusal to formally apologize for slavery (which you should do, by the way. Have I mentioned that?).

But emotions aside, we love to talk about crime being the country’s biggest problem, but we sometimes may not see how our own actions (or, in this case, inaction) has fuelled that fire.