As I walked up the unknown road to get to work, I noticed how narrow the streets were and everyone was on their guards. A continuous hustle to make ends meet, children being exploited, women were known to be street solicitors and the men took full advantage of their vulnerability.
The men referred to me as the only rose that stands, giving the streets that pulse effect. The young teenage girls come running with smiles on their faces asking questions that couldn’t be answered, but I could only give words of advice that helped me to bloom into that beautiful rose they saw.
The conversation starts and they realize that we are no different from each other. As I continue to walk up this narrow street I call ‘Survival Ave’ my heart cries. I refer to everyone as sweetheart, sir or my Jamaican friend. Each compliment received is acknowledged with a thank you and a humble nod. Little do they know that I am more fearful of them than they are of me, so I keep that smile of confidence on my face and a friendly approach with every step I make. I cannot judge them as this is all they know, ‘an unfortunate reflection of our Government and Society’.
In reality, it is because of them I have a job and able to eat, so I show them the respect they deserve as no one out there is better than the woman who makes solicitation her profession. It is sad to see married Politicians come here and spend hundreds of dollars on their Jamaican mistresses. But I turn a blind eye, becoming the hypocrite society has trained me to be with the mentality that because of these women the money circulates, so their presence, names and faces are forgotten as I say, ‘Thank you and Come again’…
