I remember as a girl going to school in Kingston and having to take a bus from the country everyday for two hours both ways. I would have to pass the “Junction” that leads to St. Mary/Portland.

I use to be so scared that I would fall asleep as soon as I reached Castleton. Just looking all the way down into the cliffs. And hearing all the stories of busloads and carloads of people who lost their lives from going over the edge. The way the drivers use to drive around those narrow curved roads and trying to overtake another vehicle around a corner was enough to instill the worst fear of dying in a child’s mind. I would feel that everytime my grandma walked me to the bus stop in the town’s square would be the last time I would see her and would have a big hug for her everyday before I boarded whichever bus I thought would take me to my doom that day.

Can you imagine the trauma from the eyes of a child? There is an irony to this story though. I had a driver by the name of “ONIE”. We called him that because he had lost one of his arms years before. Would you believe that he was the only one I ever felt safe enough to ride with in his vehicle? I would look forward to the junction ride because I knew he would bring me home safe to grandma, not to mention the fry chicken place that was in the middle of the junction. That would be the only upside of my daily trips.

The point that I am trying to make, JA has it’s faults with gunmen and criminal element plaguing the island now, but I wouldn’t change where I come from for a minute. Those narrow streets make me appreciate seeing two lane roads now.