Glimpses into the world of Bandi Payne Part – IV

by Dr Richard A Byron-Cox

Part III closed with me wondering whether there was a flip side to Bandi’s story. He seemed the embodiment of calmness. Was this resignation or satisfaction? “You want something to drink? I make natural juices.” I left my wonderings returning to the present; but he, not awaiting a response, stepped through a curtain and was back in a minute carrying four medium-sized plastic water bottles. “These are different juices with no sugar or chemicals, just natural.” We accepted his kindness. The juices were first class! I embarrassed myself by drinking both my bottles immediately. He got me two more. “This is from sugar cane from St Vincent.”

“From St Vincent?” my surprise was evident.{{more}}

“Sure, I have many plants from St Vincent in my garden. Come let’s go outside.” My heart was pleased. SVG still meant something to him.

The garden behind the house was on land about two times the size of that on which the latter stood. There was a variety of crops, all in small quantities. “This mint smells really sweet,” he said, picking leaves and offering to Dr Bahir and me. He pointed out quite a few plants from St Vincent, adding, “When you come back, bring some seeds for me.”

“Let me know what you want, and I shall certainly try.”

We spent about 20 minutes in the garden, with me itching to return to the discourse on the garden which shaped him. His life! Re-entering the porch I decided to shoot straight: “What would you say is your main challenge here?”

His answer was immediate.

“No justice. We can’t get justice.” His eyes and face betrayed bewilderment, even hopelessness. We sat. “Within the first three months here, I was arrested with two other brethren and charged with kidnapping and murder.”

“What?” My spine had become that of a cat’s facing its deadliest enemy, resulting in me lurching forwards on my chair. “What?”

“Yes, they jailed me and two brothers on trumped-up charges. All my life in St Vincent I was never arrested. In three months here I was locked up for murder!”

“Are you serious?” Dr Bahir’s concern was no pretense. “Why?”

“Some young girls went missing and they said we kidnapped and murdered them. And in spite of these girls and their families writing to the court to say that this is not true, as the girls had gone to work in one of those Arab countries, they refused to release us. But when these girls came back alive and well, they had no choice.” I was Zechariah after doubting Gabriel. Speechless!

“That was not the only time. I spent one New Year’s Eve and day in jail. I was going to celebrate with my family living in Addis. My daughters go to school there. I had some Vincentian Sorrel; they arrested me, asking if it was marijuana.” He became very quiet. I joined in reverence. Dr Bahir seemed totally disconcerted. The seconds became two minutes before he continued. “You know we don’t even have IDs or anything like that, so we can’t approach the courts or government offices to seek justice. It is as if we don’t exist. Whether we are murdered or a woman is raped, we can’t get no justice. No justice.” He seemed in mental, spiritual and emotional pain all at once. Dr Bahir was at sea. I was consumed by horror just thinking of the legal implications. So, a broken record began spinning in my head, “How can this be? How can this be? How….”

“Even this house and land I have to struggle to protect. His Majesty had given us part of his private lands, but the state has taken about 90 per cent of it away. This piece on which the house stands we registered it as my wife’s, and where the garden is we registered it as her sister’s. Otherwise, I would have already lost it. Remember, these lands are not state lands. They are His Majesty’s private lands. But we can’t get any justice. There is no justice here.” There was prolonged silence. Empathy had taken hold of both Dr Bahir and me.

“But Ralph was here. St Vincent’s Prime Minister. Did you see him and raise this matter?”

“I told him about it. He promised to help. I heard nothing since.”

“So you have no rights?” Dr Bahir’s hurt and embarrassment punctuated his question.

“That is true. We have no rights and no justice here.”

Bandi said his name Hailu Teferi, means “His power that must be respected by all.” “Well….,” I thought, as the broken record continued in my head, “How can this be? How can this….”

Part V: Reflections about St Vincent