Every evening, just before the sun starts to dip behind the buildings, yuh could find One Foot Palo perched on his homemade bench. Is not no fancy bench, mind yuh. Is a half ah door balancing on two concrete block, but Palo say it sturdy enough. After all, it surviving longer than some of the young fellas in the area! He sits there with the remainder of his foot stretched out, the other planted firmly on the ground, a cup of black Hong Wing coffee close by and he eyes moving like a CCTV camera. He see everything. Who passing. Who parking. Who liming. Who arguing. Who building. Who breaking down. Who mother crying. Who granny looking for she grandson and who young fella suddenly start behaving like he own the entire neighbourhood.
Everybody used to call him One Foot Palo. Nobody quite remember who give him the name, but it stick. But he used to like to say “Is not how many foot yuh have that matter, is way yuh standing!”
Palo living in Maloney from the days when the sugarcane fields was still operating over the highway. He remember when the scent of burnt fresh-cut cane used to travel through the air, and when people wake up early because work was waiting. He and he wife come through some hard times. They worked the fields together as a teenage couple, till big man and woman.
Palo bend he back working, he was a hustler too, taking whatever honest work he could find. Some days he leave home before daylight and return when the children already sleeping. He and the wife stretch every dollar, count every cent and make sure the children had books, uniform, shoes and something to eat. Sometimes they had to sacrifice their own comfort and do without, so the children could have food for tomorrow. He remember telling them, “Yuh cyah control how yuh born, but yuh could certainly influence where yuh going.” They listened to him, some became professionals, some migrate, some raise families of their own.
Palo was proud of that. But he also watched another generation grow up, and another and another. Some of those young fellas who used to run behind a football, play pitch and ride bicycle through the area never make it to thirty. Dead! Because these days, some of the young fellas have taken foolishness to a whole new level. Everybody want to be a boss, a don, want a name. Everybody want to walk around with an attitude, bad man ting! And Palo watching all this from he bench.
One afternoon, he see two young fellas passing.
“Evenin Daddy!”
Palo look up.
“Evening? Is evening allyuh bring? Or is evening allyuh carrying away?”
The fellas laugh. But Palo wasn’t finished.
“Allyuh young fellas need to find something constructive to do. Every week is a next set of bacchanal. Shooting, threats, gun business, gang rivalry. Allyuh behaving like the whole community is allyuh personal kingdom. But leh me tell allyuh something. The longest rope have ah end!”
The fellas walk away shaking their heads. He sit back slowly.
“Lord, look what reach here!”
Now, mind yuh, Palo understand that the State have a responsibility to protect people and that criminals cannot be allowed to terrorise a community indefinitely. But he also know that there are innocent people living in those buildings. Now everybody have to adjust.
Palo start shaking he head.
“Allyuh see what happen? Allyuh wanted to be famous, now the whole country watching. Allyuh wanted to control the block, now the block have restrictions. Allyuh wanted to make everybody afraid, now everybody living with uncertainty.”
He pause. Then he lean forward and deliver the line that make the phoulourie woman almost choke on she drink. “ALLYUH LOOK FOR DAT!”
He wasn’t finished.
“All now, some of allyuh complaining about freedom of movement, inconvenience and how the State treating the community. But where was that same concern when decent people couldn’t sleep? Where was the concern when children hearing gunshots? Where was the concern when mothers burying sons before thirty? Where was the concern when elderly people afraid to sit outside they own house?” Man running through the buildings with big, long gun shooting up the place.”
Palo raise one finger.
“But leh we understand something. The State must not punish an entire community for the behaviour of a few. The few must stop behaving like the community belong to them!”
Then he turn to a young man standing nearby.
“Come here, son. Let me tell yuh something.”
The young man approach reluctantly.
“When I was your age, I had dreams. I wanted my children to go to school. I wanted my wife to live comfortably. I wanted to grow old and sit down outside my house without hearing gunfire. I work hard for that. Plenty people like me work hard for that.
“So tell me something. What exactly you building? What legacy you leaving? When you dead, who going to remember you?”
He pause.
“Boy, allyuh really feel allyuh smart, enh?”
Then he slowly rise from he homemade bench.
“Anyway, ah going inside. Is after nine soon. Unlike some people, ah don’t have no interest in testing the authorities tonight!”
He chuckle to himself.
“ALLYUH LOOK FOR DAT!” With that, One Foot Palo disappear inside.
(Dedicated to the families in Maloney that still dream of peace)
