The Death of 1977 (Book 3)

Devon House

29 Hope Road, Kingston, Jamaica

The afternoon was muggy and sticky. The sun was trying its best to peek through the thick, rolling clouds, but its best efforts were for naught as the clouds were entirely too overwhelming. The smell of rain in the air hung ever so thick to where a person could swear they felt wetness drop from the sky even if it wasn't at all. The grass that Arthur was casually walking across was wet and slick. The wetness managed to cling to the bottom of his bell-bottomed brown dress pants. His matching brown polyester jacket and vest clung to his chest which only caused the man to undo the top two buttons on his black silk shirt to where his chest hairs were showing.

Where Arthur was marching to was a prestigious looking building which sat directly in the middle of a ninety-nine acre stretch of land. The front courtyard was surrounded by a lovely menagerie of tall palm trees and luxurious flowers. Yes, there was a driveway that led to the mansion, but it was filled with fancy cars and limousines that made it nearly impossible for a person to make it through. Trekking across the grass was Arthur's only and last resort. The two floor mansion he was walking towards was glowing white from front to back. Flowing green plants hung lavishly on the front porch making it appear as if they were growing from out of the house itself.

The second Arthur ascended the pearly white stairs that led to the front door he suddenly stopped dead in his tracks to take notice of his shaking right hand. The man stared down at the appendage in subdued wonder, trying to figure out what in the world was causing it to vibrate so violently and out of nowhere. He himself was calm, but there was something uncanny about his pulsating right hand, like it was aware of something he wasn't.

Arthur slipped his hand into his pants pocket before opening the door and allowing himself inside the stately manor. Before he could even take two steps inside the aromas of food seized his nose in such a pleasant way that the man desired a bite more than anything else going forward. He strolled across the parquet flooring, clip-clopping like a horse in his brown dress shoes. Above his head was a sparkling chandelier, while the splendidly decorated ceilings reminded him of something from a fairytale story. From a nearby room he could hear a parakeet squawk and carry on as if it were under attack, while the dogs outside began barking in the most insane manner.

Arthur just couldn't seem to take his eyes off of the environment that he found himself immersed in. For him it was like taking a step outside of his own body. No, he wasn't bedazzled by it all, but just the fact that he was visiting the place for the very first time seemed to bring about a swell of pride to his existence. Even the pristine smell of the mansion itself seemed to settle his overactive stomach. From one hallway to another were black maids and butlers carrying silver platters of food and expensive alcohol from room to room. The chattering's of people caused Arthur to turn from left to right until he was able to locate the direction of the commotion on the first floor. There was a wide open room to his immediate right which was guarded by two well dressed, large black men. Just before he could reach the room one of the men extended his right hand in a halting fashion.

"You go no further, mon." He said in a composed fashion as if he had everything under control.

Arthur stood before both men at that moment and simply stared them down. He looked at one and then the other before taking a very slight step backwards and peering into their very eyes with his own piercing, hazel-eyed glare. Both of the men stood with conceited looks on their faces for a few moments before the appearance on their individual mugs suddenly took on a more worried, if not dismayed manifestation. They both looked as if all the bravado they once possessed had all but been sucked right out of them within a matter of seconds. Utter hopelessness seemed to engulf their very beings. Then, like two men who had just lost the will to live, they stepped aside and allowed Arthur to stroll right into the large dining room where a gathering of distinguished men and one woman were already seated and eating.

They all carried on for a minute or so before finally realizing that something was out of place. Arthur, who was steadily and patiently standing beside a portrait of Michael Manley on the wall, examined all thirteen men and one woman seated at the expansive dining table staring right back at him with the most dumbfounded expressions on their faces.

"See here now, who ya be?" One older black man stood up.

Continuing to walk inside, Arthur smiled and announced, "I be none other dan Arthur Bushard."

"How did you get past the guards?" Another black man asked.

"Your guards were very generous to me."

"You cannot be in here!" An older, British speaking white man stood up and approached Arthur.

"But you do not know my business here." Arthur plainly replied.

"Well then, be on with your business." The white man impatiently insisted.

I originate from Negril, and I am very

every person in the room all burst out in laughter, all but Arthur, who remained stationery in the middle of the floor with a gracious smile

you think you can just walk in here and run for Parliament, mon?" Another black man said from the table. "It's not

"I assure each and every one of you dat my

young man," the white man obstinately commented.

yet, you are having a nice, quiet lunch while the PNP

down. Arthur could feel the tension in the room the deeper

is your business here,

want to make a difference in dis

snickered while turning and

it." Arthur rebutted. "For far too long dis great nation of

not corrupt!" One man adamantly stood up from

why become defensive, friend," Arthur questioned

"Let's hear him out." The white man suggested. "He obviously traveled a far distance just

around the table and room. "I am de son of farmers. My family was born into de dregs of society, scraping up all dat we could to

all lived at one time, mon!" One

yet, you are sitting here having lunch in the Devon House." Arthur turned. "Much like Devon, I too have amassed a great wealth for myself. But unlike most of Parliament,

know we are not doing good

Arthur turned a suspicious eye to the man and asked, "While de Prime Minister is in Canada, you are here

from out of his chair.

"Sit down, Royson." The young, black lady seated next to him commanded in a cordial fashion while keeping a

did as he was told and slowly sat back down in his seat. By then, everyone had reclaimed their places at the

with. I have traveled all over dis world. I have seen directly all de beauty dat dis planet has to offer, and yet, it is my lovely Jamaica dat stirs me de most. When I was but a pup, I and my siblings worked de cane fields for nothing at all. Our hands sore to de very bone.

here, this is all well and good, but you cannot

a stronghold. De young people of dis nation are in dire need of direction, but the leadership is old-fashioned and out of date. Unable to connect with de current environment. I am not saying just by me walking in here dat I can simply wave my hand and dis country's woes will be gone. Dere is still a lot of work both inside and out dat needs to be done. But I have traveled very far to seek de minds of dose who call themselves leaders not to judge me, but

about our people!" One man contended. "It is not our fault that the youth are killing themselves, or that people do not have a livable wage!

caught sight of everyone's blazing eyes staring him down he simply bowed his blushing face

tedious." Arthur continued. "I come to offer solutions, not more justifications. While De Queen is over in England sipping on tea and crumpets, we are here suffering with gangs, out of control political