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Hazel D. Campbell

Devil Star

It was the first of times. It was the last of times. It was even the first time at last; and some were saying, “Cho! Jamaica nuh sweet again.” There was looting and there was shooting. There was pillag­ing and there was rummaging. There was ravishing and despoiling. Some wined and dined; some could only lick their lips and pine. Some dipped their fingers in voting ink; blood-red, not blue. Some dipped themselves in healing streams which had no power to “put it back.” It was deejay time. It was dance hall time. It was slack lyrics time. It was mayhem, noise, and corruption time for it seemed that Satan himself (herself?) had taken up permanent residence in shack, shanty, concrete nog, and high rise.