The Tribune

By Jeffrey Butler

Growing up in the inner city (ghetto) I have had the experience of knowing what it is to be living below the poverty line, to have a wall literally separate me from what was considered then as the upper class in this country. I know what it feels like to not belong or be a part of the country I know as home.

These stories I want to tell are to bring awareness and to share the emotions, thoughts and daily life of our youth living in the urban Bahamas from as young as 10 to 35. All feel a type of disconnect from society.

Last summer, as I sat in the streets of Kemp Road, I listened to a group of young boys trade stories of their adventures of summer.

One said “Bey, I was playing with this gal yesterday and gone ta slam but ain’t had no rubbers dread.” Another said, “Bey, I done kill that” and another told of how he had to run for his life because the ‘bey’ he punched up last week came to gang him. In our day and time some might find it to be a normal conversation for 12- to 16-year-old boys.

But it shouldn’t be. As their talks went on and hearing them talk about things from what they want to do to other males who they have a problem with to wishing they had a gun right now and that they wouldn’t hesitate to use it “I would dust that ‘bey’ right nah, think dis a game aye” - it made me ask myself at their age why wasn’t I doing the same things they were doing or even had the same mindset. What made me so different coming from the same environment and same circumstances and, in some cases, even worse of a circumstance?

It was not until one of them said that he couldn’t go in certain parts of Nassau because of who he just stabbed last week and they were out for him that it made me interested in finding out what got him to this place at such a young age.

I saw him a few hours later and stopped him to find out what is going on in his life that led him to where he is now, being one criminal act away from ending up in jail.

For a 14-year-old he had already lived a lifetime; being the oldest of six children (the youngest being four) he has always had the responsibility of looking out for himself and younger brothers and sisters. He was born to a young mother whose only care in life at the time was to party every week and hustle men for money by any means necessary and his father was always around but never in his life, he (the father) also being the negative stereotype of most young men from the ghetto (drug dealing and criminal activity). Coming from a poor family structure (financially and morally) he raised himself for most of his childhood, being teased, picked on and looked down upon by his peers because he had less than they did. His mother was too busy living her young life to be the parent he needed, his classmates were mean to him because he had less than they did so the only place he found acceptance and a sense of love was around the drug dealers and criminals who didn’t care about him but only saw what use he could be to them. A young, naive, impressionable boy looking for love and a family.

It wasn’t long before he became the lookout man, the little food store thief, the smallest one to fit through the house window and the one to hold the drugs and guns because he was loyal to the streets and was too young to be put in prison.

The older he got the more experienced he got drug dealing, shoplifting, gang banging, assaulting and fighting in school - all before the 10th grade. For him this was all the result of lack of parenting and societal intervention.

It really takes a village to raise a child and his village has been turning a blind eye as if this the norm. Despite all of his actions he still knew that within him they were wrong and he wanted more for his life. He has always been torn between the life of the streets and wanting to do more for his family, wanting to be a good example for his younger siblings.

It was not until a few months ago, when he found himself in the boys industrial school, suspended within the first week of school and put on a curfew, he realised that he is possibly one crime away from prison and that the life he was living would be the very cause of the loss of his freedom. He was one step away from being lost in the system or dead.

As a community, as a people, what are we doing or not doing to save our youth? Why is it so easy to turn a blind eye and say it’s not my problem or family. The vision and dream for a better, safer country fall to each and everyone of us. Building a better future begins with the youth of our nation and when we neglect them, we don’t just neglect that individual we neglect our country’s future.

• Jeffrey Butler, 33, grew up in the Kemp Road area, where he now runs a daiquiri stand. He will be writing regularly in The Tribune about life in the inner city.