THE bravado of Tivoli Gardens residents who, dressed in white, vowed two weeks ago to die for Christopher ‘Dudus’ Coke — a man indicted by the United States on charges of drug- and gun-running — was nowhere to be found Thursday when the media were allowed a one-hour tour of the embattled community.
Hours after the sun came up on the fifth day of the military operation in the feared inner-city enclave that served as Coke’s stronghold, women and young girls, who had given loud and vociferous support in his defence, were noticeably quiet. After previously announcing their willingness to die for Coke, against whom Prime Minister Bruce Golding announced on May 17 extradition proceedings would begin, the Sunday Observer could find no one still willing to breathe their last breath for him.
“Are you still willing to die for Dudus?” the Sunday Observer asked the first woman we encountered.
She hissed her teeth before saying in a dismissive tone: “Woman, yuh nuh si seh wi need food, a dat wi need right now.”
She then dragged a younger woman with her back behind the closed door from which they had come.
It was a question the Sunday Observer would ask another 11 or 12 times and the response was almost always the same.
“Is what yuh asking mi lady? Is more judgement yuh want when de soldiers dem gone?” asked another woman.
It has been long theorised that the people in communities controlled by dons do as they are told or face the consequences. The responses to our question in Tivoli suggest strongly that the May 20 demonstration in support of Coke was ordered.
Still, the Sunday Observer asked the question of the next woman we saw.
“Oonu leave Dudus. De police and soldier dem wicked. Tivoli ah nuh de only place weh bad man deh,” she responded, but did not say whether she was prepared to die for Coke.
When the fourth woman uttered an expletive, the Sunday Observer opted to ask another question: “Do you still believe that Dudus likes you, given that he left you all in this?”
The question was asked of the first man seen.
“Lady, dat a politics. Mi nuh business wid dem ting deh. Mi just want dis fi stop so mi can go a work,” he said.
“Mi leave politics to politician. Mi nuh business wid nutten. Mi just vote because dem seh wi haffi vote. Dung a dem place yah, yuh just duh weh dem seh fi keep yuh life,” the man added.
He was one of very few men seen in the community, as the security forces reported that more than 300 had been detained by that time. By weekend, the number of detainees had moved to more than 500, with some being processed and released. Yesterday, the police said that all, except eight who were identified as being wanted for various crimes including murder and larceny, had been released.
The press tour was the first time residents were seeing anyone from outside the community since the military offensive to arrest Coke started last Monday. But he escaped the security blanket covering the area, and despite the military might of the Jamaica Defence Force (JDF), the diminutive don, who is the reputed leader of the notorious Shower Posse, remains on the run. The police believe he is still on the island and a former top cop says the police should begin looking in some influential houses uptown.
Meanwhile, Tivoli residents seemed amiable enough to provide some other details, but when the Sunday Observer lagged behind the group of journalists on the tour, the soldiers made it clear that that would not be tolerated.
“Work with me people. Remember you promised,” shouted Major Ricardo Blackwood from the JDF, who led the tour, as he reminded journalists not to congregate while conducting interviews. Because of the time and security constraints, interviews were done at world record speeds.
As the media journeyed further into the community, it was obvious the JDF was in control of the area. Two soldiers were stationed at the entrance to every high-rise building in the community; while others patrolled the ground from the top of buildings. Blackwood pointed to some of the sand bags and other debris used to erect roadblocks. He said some had been used by the military as buffers.
As the Sunday Observer passed a house on the corner of one of the streets, the groans of an elderly woman ripped through the air.
“Jesus, Jesus, Jesus. The God of Jacob, the God of Meshach and Abednego. When will this suffering end? Jesus, Jesus, Jesus,” she cried continuously.
Around the corner, at the intersection of Bustamante Highway, a woman in a white top fell to the ground, and in dramatic fashion began writhing as though ‘in the spirit’. When no one paid her any attention, she simply got up.
The Sunday Observer returned to the original question. A woman speaking directly with the newspaper, but with her eyes darting to where other residents were, said, “Miss, everybody asking why we never leave; we couldn’t leave. If we did leave, dem would a kill wi,” she said through clenched teeth, apparently not wanting anyone to read her lips.
She was one of the few who ventured out of her house, and she said a few people who did leave had their houses burnt.
The vast majority of individuals spoke from behind drawn curtains and cracked doors, and did not want to give their names. Several children peered from behind these obstacles and would not answer, when asked if they had received food. Looking nervous and seemingly for permission from nearby adults, they dropped their eyes but did not answer.
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