The Tribune

By ADRIAN GIBSON

ajbahama@hotmail.com

THIS week, I discovered that police officers—particularly the police prosecutions department—are occupying a condemnable, rundown former Magistrate‘s Court building that is a slum-like structure on the fringes of the government’s complex on Nassau Street. When police prosecutors—who assist in advancing cases against suspects of various offences in the lower courts—must endure such substandard conditions, one wonders if it would perhaps be more sensible for urban renewal to begin with the refurbishment of the facilities that house these officers and that can therefore inspire them as they seek to imprint the stamp of an urban renewal programme upon the hearts, minds and environs of the communities where they serve.

After speaking to sources and seeing the building, if the Physical Planning section of the Ministry of Works conducted an assessment of the former Magistrate’s Court complex on Nassau Street, they would either recommend that the building be demolished or be stripped, overhauled and completely refurbished. I’ve had occasion to be critical of the police in the past, particularly those rogue officers who physically assault persons in their custody, who lie and tamper with evidence or engage in unlawful tactics such as planting false evidence, who overstep and abuse their authority and those officers who are so arrogant and petulant that their misplaced motivations and seeming stupidity causes them to speak to everyone—regardless of the circumstance— in an uncouth, unprofessional manner.

That said, the police are my friends; in fact, my father was a policeman and so therefore the police have a special place in my mind. With that in mind, I’m appalled by the conditions that many officers are expected to work in whilst protecting and serving our society.

I was informed by sources that the officers of the police prosecutorial department has been promised that they would be placed in better facilities this year after being moved from their former offices—situated on Bank Lane—to make way for additional Supreme Court spaces/rooms.

According to these sources, nothing has been said to them from then to now.

Here’s the thing, the entire prosecutorial department—numbering between 45 to 60 officers and support staff— are now housed in the first section of the former Magistrate’s Court complex, with male and female occupants sharing two bathrooms—that is, one toilet in either room.

What’s more, even the two urinals in the male bathrooms aren’t working! This is downright disgraceful.

One look at the police prosecutions and one could quickly understand the visual, psychological and physical effects that could have on the officers and visitors with whom they might interact.

I noticed—on a brief walkabout— that the roof tiles are rotted, mildewed and soiled.

Clearly, water seeps through the roof tiles and sources have told me that during a heavy downpour, they must don the hat of the janitor, putting aside their policing duties in favour of grabbing a mop, bucket and wash cloth to dry and soak-up the water flowing over the tiles. In fact, as a result of water seeping into the building, the tiles have themselves become loosened. Moreover, when you look up, one could easily see that the air condition vents are rusted and dusty, which could only result in officers/support staff getting sick and being exposed to potential illness. However, the personnel in that department have not had much air conditioning in recent times since the air conditions weren’t operational for the last four months and were only repaired two weeks ago. This is outrageous and creates a substandard, subhuman and desolate atmosphere.

I have been told of officers who must constantly dust and sweep away the layers of dust from air condition ducts, doorways, window sills and even their desks. What’s more, I’ve been told about the rats and other pests and their droppings, which adds to the discomfort being experienced. The holes in the walls, layers of paint shedding from the walls and the mildew on the boxing/roof are further evidence that the place is in a poor state of disrepair.

“No new police prosecutors want to come here because of the poor working conditions,” an officer told me on condition of anonymity. “We have prosecutors who are ready to retire, in fact, two senior prosecutors who are currently holding down major magistrate’s courts are about to retire. But, we can’t get any new, young persons to come here!”

I noticed that all of the prosecutors, clerks and other support staff are lumped into this small space, with one office barely squeezing in two or three desks and there being absolutely no sense of privacy. These individuals must speak on the telephone, hold meetings and do all associated tasks in the open.

According to a police source:

“The warrants section is situated in an open court room, the former court number nine. In there, that so-called office is really just a court with the files strewn all about. The work morale is low, at an all-time low and people are calling in sick left, right and centre!”

“There was no air condition in traffic courts numbers 12 and 13 for a while. When we do evening court, we couldn’t really have trials because it is so uncomfortable and so all we did was try to hear matters and quickly adjourn them. The magistrates were just a magistrate, hot and bothered. It was and is so frustrating. You see, files are thrown all about and so we have problems finding files. Can you imagine how frustrating and upsetting it can be if you must dig up and dig up, from one place to the next, for one file,” he said with a sigh.

Located next to the new Magistrate’s Court complex, the former magistrate’s court—now police prosecutorial department—is nothing short of decrepit and shameful. The powers that be must immediately move to ensure that these officers work in better conditions and therefore would be better able to perform their tasks of protecting and serving the public by ensuring, and contributing to, the carrying out of justice in the swiftest fashion.

DYSFUNCTION AT PMH (AS ALWAYS)

This week, my grandmother came into Nassau (from Long Island) to have an operation. Now, whilst she was doing the operation as a private patient of Dr Geoffrey Sweeting, PMH’s facilities (a theatre, nurses) were being used and therefore we had to pay the business office a fee. I personally paid the fee on Wednesday only to be told that I would have to return to the business office and stand on a line to be given an admittance document on Thursday (when she had the operation). I thought it was silly and redundant. Anyhow, when I returned on Thursday morning—after 7am—I met a long line of persons, twisting all the way to the back and then to the side of the room. I joined the line, then came off the line to find out if that was the only way to get the document (since I had already paid) and then had to re-join the line. As I waited—alongside so many Bahamians who were also lined up like cattle—I thought about how inexcusable it is to have Bahamians, who are either sick or standing there on behalf of loved ones, endure such long waits or, in my case, waste so much time. What’s more, there were cashiers/clerks at fewer than half of the windows at the so-called business office and so things were creeping along at a snail’s pace. Finally, a woman—speaking with a nasal twang—came and told those of us who were either going into the theatre or had family members going into theatre that morning to join another line. That line started with me and fortunately that moved along quickly, particularly as persons who had come early for theatre were waiting to be wheeled into the operating room.

When I went to the Eye Ward, my first encounter was with a rude nurse who seems to have wakened up on a bed on needles that morning. She manned the desk and really should’ve been manning the supply closet. Since my grandmother walks with a walker, I asked her if the anaesthesiologist had submitted a note notifying them and requesting a wheelchair for her (he had previously stated that he would). The nurse responded, gruffly and in a most nonchalant manner: “That don’t work like that! Sorry!” Oh the attitude! I refused to go off the deep-end then and get angry, as my grandmother—if she sensed that—would only begin to worry and that would only elevate her high-blood pressure before the surgery.

I then asked for a wheelchair only to be told that there were none. When they finally found one, I had to push it into the waiting/security area and retrieve her and then push grandma around in a broken wheelchair with no foot rest. In a nutshell, I had to wait for them to track down a chair and then, when they brought the broken chair, I – not an orderly or TCN or anyone – had to get the chair and roll/drive it down to the front, through big, supposedly automatic doors on the eye ward that did not open even after punching the pad at least three times – was told by a guy in a maroon coloured uniform, pushing a cart that it doesn’t work. As I was carrying the wheelchair out, I asked one nurse—who seemed to be older and a TCN or another description—if there was someone who was supposed to assist with collecting the elderly or immobile patients, and, of course, she snapped back that that was my job and that there was no one (I’ll bet if I was tipping, there would be many people happy to do their jobs).

Once I got out there, we then had to lift my grandmother from her seat, place her in the chair and ask her to hold her legs up the entire ride into the eye ward. Let’s bear in mind that she already can’t walk without a walker and so for her to hold up her legs while I rolled her in was nothing short of cruel and heartless! Once I wheeled her back in, the nurse at the desk—the first same one spoken about above and who unfortunately was the one delegated to interact with the public—told me to take her and have a seat in the yellow chairs. I could feel “the hulk” emerging as I was becoming livid with anger at the behaviour of this so-called health care provider.

Fortunately, my grandmother did not have to wait for very long as Nurse Sabrina Hepburn soon emerged from a room and greeted us cheerfully and with a professionalism that I had not encountered that entire morning. As I watched her get my grandma prepared and interact with her/us, I realised that this nurse could be highlighted by PMH as a bright spot among what appears to be a cadre of much lazier, uncaring so-called health professionals who daily masquerade as nurses on that ward (let me say, this doesn’t apply to all and those who it applies to know who they are). My sincere thanks is to Nurse Sabrina Hepburn (and also to Nurse Ferguson).

Nurses are providing an essential public service and if they cannot be cordial and courteous to the public, they need to be assigned to theatre (where they can only interact with doctors), the morgue or some backroom on a special assignment (whatever that assignment may be). It is unpardonable and indefensible when some of them—the nursing bad apples—think to treat sick people seeking help—and their families—as if they’re doing everyone a humongous favour, as if they lack the basic hallmarks of human decency with which one should treat all people, especially sick people.

Now, one would further posit that COB should incorporate a customer service session into the nursing programme, making it a mandatory course and, moreover, PMH should ensure that those nurses who are already on the job are made to take such a course, with refresher courses mandated to be undertaken every year.

When nurses, doctors or any healthcare professional is interacting with the public in an untoward manner, they should ask them if they would appreciate such conduct if they—or their family members—were sick? Would they want anyone to treat them the same?

I’d also like to take this occasion to send special thanks to Dr Geoffrey Sweeting, who happens to be the best ophthalmologist in the Bahamas. He’s the consummate professional and his work speaks for itself.

POLICE PROMOTIONS

Lately, I’ve been hearing a lot about an upcoming promotional exercise in the Royal Bahamas Police Force. I’m one of those persons who will be certainly paying close attention to this round of police promotions. I have no doubt that my good friend Chief Superintendent Stephen Dean should be amongst the names on the roll when those promotions are unveiled. Mr Dean is a straight shooter, who has the potential of one day being a good commissioner. He is well respected on the streets, he is a known quantity, is a down-to-earth chap and a people’s person and has clearly garnered the respect of the press. He has my total support.