Got this in an email and decided to share...interesting read.
May 22nd 2009
Escaped being robbed yesterday... but I am still victim
by Naylan Dwarika
After a normal work day yesterday, I took a taxi downtown, after which i decided to walk to City Gate. A friend of mine messaged me on my phone, and after a few quick exchanges, I decided that since he was also leaving Port of Spain at the same time, I would wait for him a few minutes outside PTSC, closer to the Lighthouse.
That's where the trouble started.
I noticed him, but thought nothing of the young boy who crossed over from Sea Lots and strode deliberately toward me. I stepped back to give him room to pass. As he walked past me, he suddenly whipped around, standing between me and the PTSC guard booth, and uttered something inaudible.
I probably didn't hear him, as I took in his features - 14 to 15 years old, razor never having touched the skin bursting with momma's milk, brown-skinned, bright-eyed, five-foot-five/six, 140/150 pounds, clean white t-shirt, three-quarter torn jeans, bare arms (save for a rubber-band, I think) and regular rubber slippers; I also knew at that point that there was the possibility of danger, and immediately began looking at the traffic lights, priming myself to push the youth into traffic, should the encounter go the wrong way.
Still without properly hearing the question, I answered him with the generic "Fadda, real salt... right now I waiting on a bredren to gi' me a ride down the road... I ain't have nothing."
Then he demanded (not asked) again: "Bwai, GIMME a call in dat phone! I want to talk to somebody!"
I realised that he used his "Beetham bionic vision" to spy the Blackberry that I usually palm (I presumed out of sight) in my left hand.
I looked and the racing traffic wistfully: did I have any justification to push him now? The court would probably think not.
I exposed the phone and with another generic reply: "Fadda, doh mind iz a bes' phone... is card I using, and I ain't have no money on the phone..."
He got aggressive: "Bwai Indian, yuh f***ing lyin!!!"
I stole a glance at the traffic and positioned myself to push him. No, not yet!
He saw me steal another glance at the traffic, and followed my gaze.
In that split second, I quickly sidestepped him and walked to the PTSC guard booth, where I waited and watched.
The little criminal-to-be took a lot of time to realise what happened and then walked slowly past me - a good distance away, but within earshot - obviously frustrated, and wary of the five or six guards who were in the booth, nevermind oblivious to my predicament.
Then the threats came. He paused, turned and let lose" Allyuh good-for-nuth'n f***in' Indian... yuh mudda c***... f*** allyuh Indian... dat is why allyuh f***ing Indian hadda DEAD... bwai... Indian... yuh f***ing racial... if I pass back here and see you, I go teach you something here today... I go make ah f***ing example outta you... yuh mudda c***!!! Bwai, f*** you boy Indian! F*** YOU!!"
I reflected his ignorance, and started to regret not tipping him into the thick of rush hour earlier, thereby saving a less patient person any more of his future taunts and/or actions.
Apparently the fool's confidence grew, and he passed back not more than a minute later; this time with a cold, broad smile splitting his face. He didn't shout, but was quite calculating: "Indian, yuh playing yuh ain't f***ing 'fraid... today yuh go f***ing learn about fear... we coming back for you now, yuh Indian mudda c***... stay right f***ing dey!"
As he walked back to Sea Lots, presumably to convince a group of individual cowards and losers to come get me; and possibly take a stab (no pun intended) at having their misdeed grace the front page of one of the dailies (with any one of my former media collegues photographing my corpse - ironic!), my friend arrived.
Talk about in the nick of time!
I was still ruing my earlier decision about the traffic, but consoled myself in the thinking that pulling one weed sees 10 more sprout... the only way to get rid of the problem is to cast the whole damn yard!
And then I wondered:
* When the police (whether right or wrong) rough up youths who know the whereabouts of guns and drugs, but are not in school at one in the afternoon - should I feel sorry?
* When turf rivalry turns deadly and mothers have closed-casket funerals - should I feel sorry?
* When freeness, feting and electioneering done, and they have no food on the table - should I feel sorry?
* When they disregard the classroom, in favour of the "block" - should I feel sorry?
* When their children make children, and there can be no natural development of mind and emotion - should I feel sorry?
* When Newsday prints them, "dead like a semp", in a drain, side of a hill, etc. - should I feel sorry?
* When "shots were fired, but neighbours did not investigate" and "was later found lying in a pool of blood" - should I feel sorry?
* When "someone called out to him... fired several shots" and "walked up to him" and "shot once in the back of the head" and "shot 15/20/30 & 40 times" - should I feel sorry.
* When they cry on TV6 no water, no road, no bridge, no drain, no justice eff-de-Prime-Minister, eff-this-one and eff-that-one; all after they decided to choose to represent them the person who had least interest in helping them - should I feel sorry?
* When they take their street wars to the jails and vice versa and bodies fall, decimating not only families and communities, but the natural human resource of the country - should I feel sorry?
* When they want to bend steel lazily for CEO pay, and Chinese workers get the job - should I feel sorry?
* When they "stepping out" with a man who alienates them and magnifies their so-called suffering and injustice (never mind it being of their own choosing and consequence) - should I feel sorry?
* When Peter pays for Paul - should I feel sorry?