Failing the little ones
There were warning signs all around little Aliyah. But trapped in her mother's random life and surrounded by indifference, her little life was too fragile to withstand the consequences.
As a father each death brings fresh agony. I understand the trust the little ones place in adults. I appreciate the way their little fingers curl around mine, confirmation of their expectation of protection and comfort. In each death, I see the unmistakeable indifference of adults who have forgotten to care: politicians because they don't use their power and the rest of us because we do not take a personal interest in demanding better.
In the week when the deaths of Aliyah and the Freeport pensioner brought grief to many of us, I observed the antics of the country's Minister of Justice. I need not say more about the former judge's comments on the killing of a constituent. The Express, through its Sunday editorial and Senior Counsel Dana Seetahal's column, has detailed the dangers of the Minister's comments. What I found interesting is that the Minister — father, lawyer, former judge and the holder of a political portfolio with enormous responsibility for life and security — has said nothing about these other killings. Like others, this Minister of Justice, always quick to remind people of the sacrifice of his tax-free judicial package for public service, is looking after his business.
Which brings me ask what can we construct in quick time to deal with this indifference and inconsequence which has taken over? What can cure this ailment and restore our sense of personal responsibility? Various accounts of the adults in Aliyah's life suggest drunkenness, mishandling of the toddler, abuse and violence: the usual Molotov cocktail of poverty and inconsequence. In little Amy's death the forensic report told a more brutal story: ruptured liver and spleen, abrasions in her mouth and cigarette burns about her body, and physical evidence of rape and sodomy. Amy's life was like the other children who ended up murdered: violence, tears and painful physical abuse and injury.
My conclusion is that what we discarded as macocious and meddlesome, the rest of the world still calls informed and community-minded. We armed ourselves with indifference and have watched the decay and decline. And when death or incident comes along to touch us personally, we go in search of somebody to blame. Nobody wants to get involved even though a little meddling could save lives and bring justice.
There were warning signs all around little Aliyah. But trapped in her mother's random life and surrounded by indifference, her little life was too fragile to withstand the consequences.
As a father each death brings fresh agony. I understand the trust the little ones place in adults. I appreciate the way their little fingers curl around mine, confirmation of their expectation of protection and comfort. In each death, I see the unmistakeable indifference of adults who have forgotten to care: politicians because they don't use their power and the rest of us because we do not take a personal interest in demanding better.
In the week when the deaths of Aliyah and the Freeport pensioner brought grief to many of us, I observed the antics of the country's Minister of Justice. I need not say more about the former judge's comments on the killing of a constituent. The Express, through its Sunday editorial and Senior Counsel Dana Seetahal's column, has detailed the dangers of the Minister's comments. What I found interesting is that the Minister — father, lawyer, former judge and the holder of a political portfolio with enormous responsibility for life and security — has said nothing about these other killings. Like others, this Minister of Justice, always quick to remind people of the sacrifice of his tax-free judicial package for public service, is looking after his business.
Which brings me ask what can we construct in quick time to deal with this indifference and inconsequence which has taken over? What can cure this ailment and restore our sense of personal responsibility? Various accounts of the adults in Aliyah's life suggest drunkenness, mishandling of the toddler, abuse and violence: the usual Molotov cocktail of poverty and inconsequence. In little Amy's death the forensic report told a more brutal story: ruptured liver and spleen, abrasions in her mouth and cigarette burns about her body, and physical evidence of rape and sodomy. Amy's life was like the other children who ended up murdered: violence, tears and painful physical abuse and injury.
My conclusion is that what we discarded as macocious and meddlesome, the rest of the world still calls informed and community-minded. We armed ourselves with indifference and have watched the decay and decline. And when death or incident comes along to touch us personally, we go in search of somebody to blame. Nobody wants to get involved even though a little meddling could save lives and bring justice.
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