from the way he always putting yu right like him got yu in training for something, and how him look so gentle at yu even when him giving yu a dressing down.’
‘What everybody call him Uncle for anyway?’
‘Because he is not your papa but him look after you, man. Everybody got a uncle, or them know what a uncle is anyway. Them know yu can go to your uncle with your troubles and he will do right by yu. Them know Uncle Zhang tough, but them also know him fair.’
‘Them know all that?’
‘Yah, man. It all got to do with McKenzie.’
‘What, that McKenzie that come to my house every day play cards and dominoes with Zhang?’
‘That same one. That same McKenzie with the tartan socks. I swear every time I see that man him wearing them socks. I don’t know how many pair he got or if he rinsing out the same ones every night but he always got them. You must have checked the socks, man. Don’t tell me yu no notice.’
‘I know the socks. I know what you mean.’
‘And you never hear the story ’bout McKenzie?’
So Hampton tell me the story.
‘When Uncle come from China he sort out everything in Chinatown good because the people could see him could fight and him frighten them to hell with it. All this Chinese fighting him busy teaching you every day. People didn’t want to mess with him. But him was also kind to them showing some understanding for them situation. So after that everything was running smooth and fine till one night somebody burn down Mr Lee’s shop. And that was bad because Mr Lee been good to the people since all the trouble stop.
‘Uncle was mad so after that him go ’round asking everybody, “Who burn down Mr Lee’s shop?” Every man, woman and child; every African, Indian, Chinese and Lebanese, every Syrian, every Jew, he was asking them. Him go everywhere, every shop, every street, every bar, every yard he was there, asking “Who burn down Mr Lee’s shop?” It go on for days, man, till somebody tell him it was McKenzie and Uncle go and drag McKenzie outta a bar, with McKenzie kicking and screaming and Uncle pulling him by the arm or foot or hair or whatever him could get a hold of, all the way from the bottom of Rum Lane and all the way down Barry Street to King Street. And right here, right out in the middle of this street right here in front of yu, Uncle strip off McKenzie old shoes and tartan socks and hang him up by him feet, his feet you get that, on a wooden scaffold Uncle put up there for the purpose. And him leave McKenzie hanging there just like that for the whole day. Just hanging there, man, in this heat. I don’t know how come the man didn’t die. And all that time nobody go do nothing ’bout it because them was scared of Uncle and them wasn’t going cross him.
‘And when Uncle get to the bottom of it, it turn out that McKenzie burn down the shop because Mr Lee stop him from talking to his daughter. Talking to his daughter, you get that. Though McKenzie say he didn’t mean for the shop to burn down completely like it did.
‘When Uncle finally cut him down, McKenzie was in a bad way and Uncle pick him up and carry him all the way to his own room in Luke Lane where he look after McKenzie and nurse him better.
‘So after that, that was it. Uncle law was in force. Martial law, man. Tough justice that was, but kindness too. And I swear I think McKenzie the only friend Uncle got because him the only person on earth that don’t want nothing from him.’ And then Hampton stop and look at me, and say, ‘Apart from him family that is, if you get what I mean. Well, Uncle already give him life back, so now all McKenzie want to do is give back some friendship. That’s how I see it anyway.’
By the time Hampton finish all this chat and we look ’round DeFreitas gone but what we see instead is two white men stand up on the corner talk to one another. Then one of them turn ’round and hawk and spit right on top of the fruit on a nearby handcart. Just as casual and careless as you like. And then the two of them carry on talk like nothing happen.
The higgler turn ’round mad as hell when he see his business spoil up like that, but when him see it is a white man him stop dead in his tracks. Too late though. The white man see the look on his face and slap him down. The white man shout, ‘Who you looking at, Nigger?’ and then start take off him belt to give the man a hiding. Him so irate he don’t even care that his panama hat fall off his head and float into the gutter.
We run ’cross the street and Hampton cover up the higgler with his own body and I jump on the white man. Before he could even lean back to swing the belt, he fall on the ground with me on top of him punching him in the face. Him friend drag me up, just when I hear Panama saying something ’bout teaching the Chink and his Nigger friends a lesson. That is when Judge Finley step in.
‘I wouldn’t do that, mister. That boy, his papa is Uncle Zhang, Chinatown Zhang.’
Panama hesitate for just long enough for me get the strength for a roundhouse kick just like Zhang teach me. Then I punch to the throat with my forearm, and when Panama on the ground I stand back and say, ‘I am not a Chink and these boys are not Niggers. We are Jamaicans. We are brothers.’
When Zhang hear ’bout it him send for me. Him listen to me tell what happen then him say to me, ‘When I was a young boy in China the country was run by warlords. These men made very high demands on the people in terms of taxes and provisions and suchlike. They were unjust and cruel men. One day the warlord came to our village to collect his due but the peasants could not pay him. So he selected a man at random from the crowd and he beheaded him. And then he urinated on the decapitated body. And got on his horse and left. I learned two things from this. The first thing I learned is that the masses have the right to live without the fear of being robbed or exploited or abused, especially by the authorities. The second thing I learned is that one man can do only so much. I could have thrown myself at the warlord and battered him with my child’s fists. Or you can beat one white man in the middle of a Kingston street. But this does not change the way things are. And it will not make him behave any better in the future. To change things the masses must rise up. They must seize their ideal and take back their land. For it is the masses who will shake off the yoke of oppression, not individual men like you and me. That is what your papa died for, the right of the ordinary woman and man to live a decent life free from the tyranny of warlords and the domination of foreigners.’
5
After they arrest Bustamante for the mayhem up in North Parade they keep him in jail for four days and then them let him go. A month after that him set up a trade union, the Bustamante Industrial Trade Union. And three months after that, in September 1938, his cousin Norman Manley, a barrister educated at Oxford University in England, who represented the strikers, set up the first national political party in Jamaica, the People’s National Party.
Manley was interested in people getting the vote and Jamaican self-government. Bustamante wanted higher wages for workers. But to me, neither of them mean much. Sure enough Manley was a true gentleman and I believe he was right that we should all see Jamaica as our country; and see the life and destiny of Jamaica as being bound to our own lives and our own destiny. But it seem to me like him think freedom was something to debate over rather than something to fight for. So maybe he was too much of a gentleman.
Busta had spirit, I give him that. And he could command a crowd. But there was always something ’bout that man I never did like. He had a kind of smugness about him. A kind of arrogance that come from him believing that he alone control the masses. Maybe it was that same thing Zhang warn me against when him say to me, ‘Don’t think more of yourself than a decent man ought to.’
When war break out in Europe, being a British colony Jamaica get placed under the Defence of the Realm Act, so there was all sorts of regulations and controls over the price of goods and foreign exchange, and censorship of the press, mail and telegraph.
Then in 1940 Britain tell the Americans they can come set up military and naval bases in Jamaica. Next thing we know there was US sailors all over the place, parading up and down Harbour Street and King Street as bold as you like all clean and sharp in them navy whites. It turn out the women like bees to a honey pot, because the honey they could smell was some crisp US dollar bills and that was surely worth the time of day. And they didn’t feel no shame ’bout it neither.
