Antonio Thompson: Day 19

An honest youth

The Gold Laureate

About a year ago I lost my gold necklace; it was a gift from my husband. I could not recall where I lost it…though I was convinced that I removed it at my hair dressers’ while fitting a Lignum Vitae necklace that I later bought from a male peddler. I knew that my husband was going to be disappointed with me for losing the special gift. I told him the truth about the incident and resigned myself to accept the hurt by telling myself that the necklace was only “material.”

The Car Wash

My husband took my car to the carwash today; it was overdue for a thorough cleaning. I continued with the clean up from the Sabbath dinner while he waited on the car. About 5:00 pm my husband walked into the kitchen, placed his hands on my shoulders and asked me to close my eyes. I obeyed, because I remembered that wives will be “submissive” to their loving husbands. I felt the cold metal touch my warm skin at my neck and I decided not to protest…not anymore.  

“Why did he go out and buy me another necklace? That’s the last thing I wanted. I would have preferred if we took another trip down to Jerusalem and checked on those boys instead.” I tried my best to control myself.

“Ok, open your eyes.”

I obeyed and looked across to the French-door-style cupboard that served as a mirror. I was disappointed that my husband went out to buy me another gold necklace but I controlled my feelings. I stepped closer to the cupboard where I was loading the clean dishes and soon noticed that the new necklace looked very familiar. IT WAS MY LOST GOLD LAUREATE!

We both laughed as I asked myself, “Where did he find it?”

“Well?”

“The young fellow who cleaned your car found it underneath your seat, apparently when he blew out the car with the air hose. He placed it on the back seat and left it there. I did not see it until I returned to the parking lot at the hospital; that is when I saw it on the back seat.”

“What? He found my necklace and left it in the car for me? Oh God, there is hope in Jamaica!”

Let us go back down there and thank him some more,” my husband said with deep respect and appreciation.

Jevonie Maxwell

There he was. Only eighteen years old. He has been washing cars here at the foot of the hill for a year now. I asked his permission for my husband to take a photograph with us standing by my car. I shook his cold shriveled hands and held him around his damp waist as we both smiled for the photo. His boss passed by and smiled. We all knew that Jevonie was an honest kid and with some more opportunities he would be going places.

A small gift for Antonio and the other boys

Miss Puncie’s street-side market was still open. I met her daughter and her young son tonight (Sunday night)…they are so beautiful.  I asked for the boys and Miss Puncie willingly went to get them across the playfield. 

“I brought you a little something…it is not much.” One of the boys took the black plastic bag but did not open it. Like a mother Miss Puncie took the bag and inspected the contents while the boys watched.Antonio seemed sad tonight. He said he tried to call me today but got no answer. I told him that I saw the missed calls and I tried to return the call but got no answer.I asked him in semi-privacy if he knew about the “Possibility Programme” (for street boys) but he seemed unaware. 

“Would you go there (to the ‘Possibilty Programme’) if they have space for you?”

“Yes, I would go anywhere right now?”           

 ”Ok, I am not making any promises but we (Tamian, Allison and I) are going to try our best to work out something for you.”

 He was happy to hear Tamian’s name. His face lit up for a brief moment when he spoke about Tamian.

 ”I will tell Tamian that you would like to hear from him.”

 In a whisper I asked Antonio a question that I had in my mind from the day I met him at the Pegasus…I thought I heard someone said that he was sleeping on cardboards…I wanted to know for certain but I was hesitant before.

 ”What are you sleeping on Antonio?”

 ”Cardboard”

 ”Do you have a blanket?”

 ”No”

 I looked at Miss Puncie with all the children around her and she looked at me…we exchanged a few words as woman to woman.

 Tomorrow is day 20. How much longer will he have to wait? I will look around the house for a blanket and pray hard tonight that he will have a home soon-soon (very soon).

 

Antonio Thompson: Day 17

I bought four toothbrushes today (Friday); one yellow, one red, one sky blue and one royal blue. I also bought one large tube of toothpaste…there are many basic needs.  

The Possibility Programme 

I am now waiting on a another call from Allison. She called earlier today and told me that the “Possibilities” Programme (for street boys) was contacted and they have space available. Birth certificates and immunization cards will be needed at some point after admission. 

 A meeting is being planned.

Sabbath Fellowship

We are having a special family member for Sabbath lunch tomorrow so I cooked all Friday afternoon; lamb, chicken, fried tofu with curried potatoes and more. My son asked, “Why don’t you cook like that every Sunday?” I really think he missed my cooking.  I thought about how Sabbath lunches should be and how I used to cook Jamaican style breakfast and dinner every Sunday. All the preparation today reminded me of my Trini-Jamaican friend and sister in Georgia; I am sure she was cooking too. I really miss those Sabbath lunches in Georgia. 

Things might be different right now but tomorrow will be like the good old days. My Trini-Jamaican friend and sister will not be here with us in the flesh but I am looking forward to a great day with my biggest sister-in-law and the rest of the Family.    

Has Antonio ever experienced a Sabbath dinner?

Has he ever experienced a day of family fellowship?

Does he know what it is like to rush to the dining table prepared with delicious food by the hands of loving moms?

Was he ever scolded for leaving the dirty dishes in the sink on the day of his kitchen duty?

How does he feel now that he is not getting his mom’s sweet home cooking? My prayer is that this period of his abscence from the home will be short. I pray for a reunion, dear God.

 

Antonio Thompson: Day 16

I sat in my car facing the closed garage door and listened ”Beyond the Headlines” on RJR 94.5 FM yesterday around 6:00 pm. The news was no different…same ol’ same ol’, so I tuned out and turned my thoughts to Antonio. Things seem to be moving very slowly through the bureaucracy. As the actors and actresses review their lines, the scenes continue to roll on in Jerusalem and the audience is now  “hooked” on the “serial reporting” of the case. We are all getting more concerned each day.

I decided to go the local public health route and call up an old-time colleague and a doctor who has worked with the most vulnerable in Jamaica for many years. I followed up with an e-mail to the doctor and copied another extraordinary doctor.    

Edited e-mail sent to Dr. Sensitivity (the real name will not be revealed at this time):

Dear Dr. Sensitivity,

Thanks for taking my call this evening after work hours.

As I said to you, I am aware of a case of 4 homeless boys (ranging in age from 9 – 15) in the Jerusalem area who are in need of attention. I have been trying to get the attention of the CDA, UNICEF, the MOH and others through my blog for about two weeks now but so far no luck in getting some help for the boys. I learned about the story when I attended the launch of a study on child poverty and disparities at the Pegasus about 2 weeks ago…and I have been writing a (daily)post on “Antonio’s” case ever since. 

Please see the link here for the first blog:

 http://marcampbellja.wordpress.com/2009/10/22/child-poverty-and-disparites-what-good-is-a-campaign-without-compassion/

If you have the time you can read through the other 14 blog posts.

I hope there is a way we can assist these boys through the public health route…they do not appear sick…just one who has some rashes on his legs and feet and another whose legs appear a little swollen…they are very promising children. 

I realize that this is a very complex matter…I suspect some are “run aways.” I think something should be done soon but I think these boys will just run away again if they are picked up by the Child Development Agency/Correctional Services.    

I am praying for a good outcome for all of them.

Sincerely,

Ann Marie

 

Antonio Thompson: Day 15

Teeth and Bones 

(An inspiration from the boys and the men in the park, November 4, 2009)

 

They all have nice teeth, everyone

Like ivory, like pearl, like diamond

I can see their teeth when they smile

Full of hope despite their common mile

I admire their teeth

 

The men’s teeth are not easily seen

They stay at a distance to observe the scene

There are many men in the park sitting

Laughing, reasoning, smoking, eating, listening

I am aware of their teeth

 

I could not see the gatekeeper’s teeth

He passed by quickly and spoke last week

There was not enough time for introductions

He moved through fast as if on a mission

I understood his teeth

 

Yesterday I saw many teeth and two broken legs

The sufferer’s teeth were all gone except for two pegs

Two old and rotted teeth told a story of poverty, politics and development

Teeth that begged from a stone transformed into his wealth and contentment

I respected his teeth

 

No smile, no frown, no talk, no golden crown

Easy walk, matching clothes, handsome to the bone

A big young man with sealed lips, shades, no threat

Could not tell the story of his teeth or his bones yet

But I felt his teeth and showed respect.

 

Copyright, November 5, 2009

 

Antonio Thompson: Day 14

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

On my way through my bedroom door I called to tell Mr. Anderson that I would arrive fifteen minutes late. Traffic was pretty light so I made it through quickly and arrived safely at the corner just before Technology Square University (not the real name of the University). I observed all the government and quasi government buildings. About three hundred yards later, the road surface changed from Jamaican asphalt to Jamaican potholes ranging in width from about one foot to over six feet and deep enough to “mash up” my car. I followed Mr. Anderson’s instructions and drove underneath the aqueduct. The road was isolated except for one boy in a khaki suit I saw walking towards the main road. I followed the road slowly allowing my car tyres to “ease down” and “ease out” of the large holes in the road until I saw the small sign on the right hand side of the road with the words:

“Jamaica National Children’s Home”

There were also other signs posted but they were not very clear to the observer. I decided to stop at the gate where I saw a slim young woman in a bright pink blouse.

“Is this the National Children’s Home Miss?”

“Yes,” she replied.

I realized that she had a speech impairment when she responded. I asked for Mr. Anderson’s office and she walked me up to the top of the walkway and pointed to the office door.

“I knocked on the blue wooden door and entered when I did not hear a voice on the other side.

“Good afternoon. My name is Miss Campbell and I am here to see Mr. Anderson. He is expecting me?”

“Yes, please have a seat… ”

 Mr. Anderson was a tall dark-skinned man with a friendly nose and experienced eyes. He was comfortably dressed; no jacket, no tie, no judgements.

I offered to shake his hand as we entered the small conference room knowing that there was important business at hand.

Mr. Anderson handed me a brochure after we informally agreed on the purpose of the meeting. We were about to discuss our concerns about Antonio.

I learned that the Jamaica National Children’s Home is situated in close proximity to the Land Lease and Mudd Town communities in the Eastern St. Andrew constituency led Dr. St. Aubyn Bartlet, a Member of Parliament of the ruling Jamaica Labour Party. The home has been owned and operated by the  Methodist Church since 1999. According to the brochure, “It receives a small subvention from the Jamaica government yet it relies on the support of people and organizations from all over the world to provide the quality care…” for the children. The brochure states, “We are in constant need of even the barest essentials, including clothing and food.”  

Mr. Anderson reflected on the needs of Antonio and the other boys:

“Where they are…

What the possibilities are…

How the transition is going to take place…

How will trust be handled…

It would not be surprising if these children are on ”fit person order”…

Highway Baptist (not the real name of the church) is just down the road…

They will need one hour per day for about three days per week to start, to include personal development…

The hours cannot be long…a less intense programme is needed…

You have to allow them to succeed…

There must be consistency.”

Mr. Anderson kept thinking about Antonio as he verbalized a plan for the boys…

“Antonio is not a typical street youth…he is indecisive…anywhere that has the strongest influence…who he is surrounded by.”

Mr. Anderson was also touched by Lascell (not his real name). We both know (from our discussions with him) that he wants to return to school…Lascell seems to be a recent “drop out.”

Lascell loves his mother but he knows that his stepfather loves his mother too, so he ran away.

Mr. Anderson and I agreed that these two boys (Antonio and Lascell) need URGENT ATTENTION. Antonio is fifteen and Lascell is fourteen.    

So what is the plan for these boys?

1. Mr. Anderson will go and visit them once per week.
2. Mr. Anderson will communicate with the person who runs the educational programme at the Highway Baptist Church.
3. He will call Mrs. Waller at the Child Development Agency next week Monday, Tuesday or Wednesday. I wondered about the reason for his delay in calling Mrs. Waller and asked him to clarify.

Rationale: “To let him (Antonio) know that there are others who want to help…give them enough room to say what he (Antonio) wants. It must be guided. We have to let them know that nobody wants to take them over…we just want to facilitate their development. They want their freedom…these boys can propel themselves.”

As we closed the meeting, I noticed a framed picture of a light-skinned woman on the wall.

“Who is that lady?”

“That is Ivy McGhie, former chair of the board…She was more than a chair.”

“So who is the current chair of the board?”

“Cecile Bernard.”

“Oh, really…the same Cecile Bernard who worked with PACT?”

“Yes, she is still with PACT.”

“Oh I see. I know Cecile…nice lady…”

I told Mr. Anderson that I would be documenting the meeting and sending the report to some key stakeholders involved. I told him also that I was blogging about the special case and that UNICEF had an interest (UNICEF representatives have written to me by g-mail). I also informed him that this year (2009) is the 20th anniversary of the Convention of the Rights of the Child (CRC).

We wrapped up our meeting after about an hour and I hurried over to the Mona Visitor’s Lodge to join the meeting that was already in progress. I arrived just after the break and just in time for Dr. Marcus Day’s session on “Drugs and HIV – Is HIV changing the face of drug policy?”

Later in the day I called Alison Hickling, Communications Specialist at UNICEF to confirm our trip to Jerusalem (not the real name of the community). We agreed to meet in front of the park on Wednesday at 12:30 pm. My husband will be my chauffeur again.

I pray for peace, harmony and completeness in Jerusalem today.

 

Antonio Thompson: Day 13

Monday, November 2, 2009

Yesterday I spoke to Mr. Anderson for the second time. He is the man in charge at National Children’s Home. I now have an appointment to meet with him and I must say that I am both anxious and excited to meet this man. I think I am anxious because of all the uncertainties involved in this case yet I feel so excited that this might be the opportunity for Antonio to start a new life.

I called Tamian and told him that I have an appointment set with Mr. Anderson for Tuesday morning at 10:00 am. We both realize that Mr. Anderson has concerns about Antonio’s case; concerns that I will explore further when I meet him in his office.

 

“Seeds of Insight” at the Table

A friend and colleague who is now the Executive Director of the Caribbean Vulnerable Communities Coalition gave me a scholarship to attend a conference on Jamaica Drug Policy which is now in progress at the University of the West Indies/Mona Visitor’s Lodge. Sponsors include the Caribbean Harm Reduction Coalition, the Caribbean Alcohol Research Institute and the Open Society Institute & Soros Foundation Network. I am thankful.

 I completed the registration form with all of my contact details and for the first time I wrote “Seeds of Insight” in the space provided for ORGANIZATION.

When Ian described the participants around the table, he referred to me as an activist.

“An activist?!”  I laughed not knowing if I was ready for the “new” label. Nevertheless, I introduced myself as “Ann Marie Campbell, now sewing ‘Seeds of Insight.’”

As the meeting progressed, I was humbled to hear on at least three occasions when the participants followed through on the theme of spreading and sewing seeds…seeds of change that will grow over time. 

I realized that Ian was reading my blog posts and it only took a few minutes for the other participants to connect with the theme without losing their focus on the agenda.

 

Dr. Imani Tafari-Ama

I met this powerful Rastafarian woman last night at the re-launch of her book, “Blood, Bullets and Bodies:  Sexual Politics Below Jamaica’s Poverty line. I bought a copy of her book and she signed it with her name and her contact information.

After the programme was over I stayed behind to mix and mingle with some of the dreads.

“You smile a lot, don’t you?”

“Yes” I replied as I started to laugh with the wise Rasta Man. “I laugh a lot too.” I did not tell him the reason I was laughing at that time but Bethany would know.  

“Yeh man, I can tell.”

“Well to tell you the truth, I cry a lot too.”

“When do you cry my sister?”

“I cry when I remember my mother and her life…I also cry when I see boys that remind me of my own two boys.”

The Rasta Man was now listening even more intently.

The last time I cried was at an old man’s funeral (See Antonio Thompson: Day 12) where I saw the mourning mother with her pre-teen son. I knew that he was an adopted child. I cried because he read one of the Bible lessons eloquently and he was recognized as an official grandchild.

 

Antonio Thompson: Day 12

Yesterday we attended the Thanksgiving Service of a special man. There were many tributes and songs to his honour and his long life; politicians and business men spoke about his generosity and his wit. He was a man who was born in the early 1900s, lived through the Great Depression in his youth and maintained a successful farming operation along with his philanthropy during the World Ward 2 years. If it were not for my marriage to his daughter’s best friend’s brother and my recent “Seeds of Insight,” I probably would not have known this great man. I listened keenly to every spoken word as I sat on the tough wooden bench for over two and a half hours in the section of the church reserved for “Family.”  

On our way back from the Thanksgiving Service my husband and I spoke about family life until I fell asleep. I was awakened when I felt the movement of the car decelerated and then stopped at the intersection of Presidents’ Boulevard and Diplomat’s Road (see Antonio Thompson: Day 4 ) and I heard His question:

“Are you going to stop and see your boys?”

“Uh?” I had to make up my mind quickly as the traffic light was about to change to green. “OK, yes.”

Diplomat’s Road appeared brown-grey and the dusk casted a black background on the scene despite the high street lights. Sweet Meat (not the real name of the Jamaican fast food restaurant) was open but the large neon sign was off and I wondered if they were conserving energy. As we approached the street on which Antonio lives, I noticed that it was devoid of energy; the cook shops were closed; Miss Puncie’s stall was so bare that I could see the rough improvised tables sitting and standing on the dirt floor just inches away from the sidewalk; the few people I saw sat easily on their rears waiting for the slow Sunday evening to pass. There was no music either. 

The scene was not right. My favourite actors and actresses were not there last night. The lighting and the sound were poor so the energy levels were low and there was just not enough colour. As we drove away from Diplomat’s Road, I paid close attention to the sign that was posted behind Miss Puncie’s stall and was reminded that the playfield was a part of the community centre. The boys were living in a community centre! Oh my God! I have heard that before! A former staff member told me a few years ago that she knew of a similar situation in another community.

As I thought about the constructs of a Jamaican inner-city community, I wondered where they were at about 7:00 pm on a Sunday evening. I will try to remember to ask Antonio that question when next I see him.

 

Antonio Thompson: Day 11

No updates on Antonio.

It is Saturday night. I am watching Soledad O’Brien, CNN journalist, on Waltham Park Road in Kingston interviewing Malvo’s father and I am thinking how much I wanted to go and visit Antonio today. I decided not to go because I promised my husband that I would never go there alone. I am learning how to be “submissive” to a loving man…it is not an easy thing to do given our Jamaican culture, history and gender relationships but I appreciate the biblical perspective and it seems to be working well for us so far.        

Malvo became the older brother…the bigger brother. It was reported that his mother left him at 9 years old…reports of abuse, abandonment and reconciliation…later left him in a shack at age 14.

When mothers leave/abandon their children for a “better life”…who is to be blamed when things go wrong? I judge no one. Instead, I pray for all parents (especially single mothers) that they will get the support they need to raise their children and never have to leave their children behind.

May God help us to be good parents and good citizens…this we parents do in the best interest of our children.

 

Antonio Thompson: Day 10

…He speaketh with his feet… (Proverbs 6, verse 13). 

 

His feet tell a story of abandonment, hard work and freedom

A few days old and he had no socks on

His toes were tiny and cold

And they even appeared somewhat old

 

He speaketh with his feet

 

His feet tell a story of abandonment, hard work and freedom

At nine years old he had no shoes on

His toes were dirty and bruised bold

And they even appeared almost old 

 

He speaketh with his feet

 

His feet tell a story of abandonment, hard work and freedom 

At fourteen he had ugly rashes on

His toes did not fit in the broken slippers

And they even appeared very old with jitters

 

He speaketh with his feet

 

His feet tell a story of abandonment, hard work and freedom

At fifteen his feet appeared swollen 

They showed signs of tiredness and suspension  

They probably need to rest at night on elevation

 

He speaketh with his feet

 

His feet tell a story of abandonment, hard work and freedom

At twenty one his feet were not visible to anyone 

They were covered in new sneakers and leather shoes 

Gifts and purchases from those they amuse

 

He speaketh with his feet.

 

Copyright, October 30th, 2009

 

Antonio Thompson: Day 9

I made a call to the Child Development Agency (CDA) a few minutes ago and spoke to Mrs. Waller. Tamian had given me her name earlier in the week. What a pleasant lady she is! Nuff respec Mrs. Waller!

I explained to Mrs. Waller my reason for calling and told her that I have been documenting Antonio’s case not so much from a social worker’s perspective (I am not a trained social worker) but from a citizen’s perspective (I was born in Jamaica). I told her that I was trying my best to be sensitive to all the challenges, especially those related to our limited social service resources.     

She informed me that she was in fact aware of Antonio’s case and that she was waiting on National Children’s Home to conduct the visit, presumably to assess Antonio’s situation and willingness to move into National. I learned from Mrs Waller (just as I had heard from the boys) that “sometimes they do not want to stay” in the homes. It is not difficult to appreciate that the boys do have more “freedom” on the streets; freedom to go about as they choose and the freedom to beg. I could say more about “freedom” on the streets of Kingston but I and I will kibba I and I mout.

I told Mrs. Waller that I believe the “site visit” was conducted yesterday and that I spoke to Mr. Anderson.

It is important that “what we want is what he (Antonio) wants,” said Mrs. Waller.

I told her that I understood exactly what she meant.   

So it appears now that things are moving in Antonio’s favour. Once the CDA hears from Mr. Anderson, they will send out a social worker to make the necessary arrangements. I hope Antonio will want what we want – another chance to improve his life.

Now, regarding the other boys…that’s another story. I do not know who will write that story in the best interest of the children.