THE EDITOR, Madam:
IF SENATOR Wallace thinks Jamaica will solve the problem of declining numbers of visitors by simply being more visible then he needs to wake up and smell the coffee. Tourists are not putting Jamaica at the top of their wish list for one simple reason they are scared. The murder rate on the island is climbing steeply upwards and even I, who love the country of my birth, cannot find words to defend the island and its people against negative criticisms anymore.
Many years ago my husband and I made a conscious decision to empower our children by familiarising them with the island, its culture and beauty from a very young age. We were anxious they would look down their noses at our birthplace in much the same way the British-born offspring of our friends and relatives do. So every year, loaded down with bags and insect repellent, we headed for the shores of Jamaica, first by Air Jamaica then British Airways when our national airline ground to a halt.
The pit toilets at their grandparents home proved "no problem" and cold outside showers were relished. So complete was their indoctrination to the island life that for weeks after our return from many such visits, our babies would whip the scrambled egg from their cousins' breakfast plates mistaking the yellow concoction for ackee and saltfish only to spit it out, insulted, once their mistake was realised.
Entries in their school diaries of their exploits on the Rio Grande River where their cousins first introduced them to roast breadfruit and salt pork, cooked over fires made on stones on the river bed, and their mother's liking for the rum punch served by the waiters on Frenchman's Cove would entertain their teachers.
They blessed the day Noel Coward first sat on a bamboo raft, pounded the almonds the way we did many years before and licked the juice running from the sweet Julie mango. They learnt to catch river shrimps and busu, roasting them on the dwindling fire which had cooked their river-bed meal and washed them down with coconut water. No meal is now complete without at least one Jamaican ingredient and avocado pears remain on their shelves in British supermarkets because: "We will wait until we go to Jamaica to taste real avocados. These are too watery."
A bit of paradise
So great was their desire and love for our little bit of paradise that they urged us to buy our own holiday home in Portland. The house has served us well. We have made many friends and wanted it to go on serving us, but we are now looking for a buyer and have crossed Jamaica off this year's holiday destination list because we are no longer sure we will be at the airport to catch the return flight to cold, grey England.
As for retiring there Jamaica doesn't like returnees so we might as well stay put and our children, who used to proudly describe themselves as Jamaican, feel safer in white-dominated Europe.
I am etc.,
MAUREEN McTAGGART
E-mail:
maureen.mctaggart@tes.co.uk
18 Totteridge Road
Enfield, Middlesex EN3 6NE
London, United Kingdom
Via Go-Jamaica
