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NO JOY FOR THE OUTSIDE WOMAN IN THIS RECESSION
MARK WIGNALL
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Five feet nine inches tall and put together like a love song on a moonlit night, when 27-year-old Alana walks she moves like a gazelle on a slow trot and her eyes and her smile are enough to send a cardinal and his bishops into a real fear of seeing the fires of hell.
MARK WIGNALL
Fairly well-educated and intelligent, she has a degree in marketing and takes home, after across-the-board pay cuts in January, $145,000 per month. "Luckily for me I have no children but I am working twice as hard for 30 per cent less pay, but I am working," she said as we sat over drinks at a New Kingston café. We met five years ago just as she was having a torrid time with her boyfriend who was the same age as she was. He was the aggressive type, jealous and demanding, and she took my advice and handed him his pink slip, but not before she had found his replacement.
The way she framed it was an education for me. "I know how analytical you are. I am not a whore. He comes over, opens my fridge, drinks my wine, sits on my couch, eats my food, sleeps in my bed and then, once in a blue moon he gives me $5,000 or $10,000. I have rent to pay - $40,000, car loan, $30,000, food and utilities bill. If he, who considers himself a hot boy, cannot afford me" - and she stressed it - "a hot girl, then let him go and find someone colder to the touch."
Enter Bill, 51, businessman and part-time hustler, married, three children. Alana didn't sense that there was a problem in Bill's marriage but, as she put it, "He needed to feel he was more than he was. I provided that for him."
Bill was apparently not in any pain for money. At the outset he struck an agreement. On the first Monday of every month he would deposit $40,000 in her account. She would welcome him at any time because, although she knew he probably had other women, it was of no concern to her. "He didn't send me into sensual heaven, but neither has any other man. Bill is pleasant and," she laughs, "he smells good, takes me out, always uses a condom and, he never, ever asks me where I was, who I was with. It was perfect."
After more than three years of that arrangement, six months ago all that changed, and it was devastatingly sudden. "He stopped coming around, stopped the regular $40,000 lodgement, stopped answering his phone and apparently changed his number. No explanation." She told me that she had grown so used to that $40,000 every month in her life that for a brief period after it dried up she truly hated him.
"The intimacy in our relationship was being squeezed out by the fact of the money," she said then added, "It is a paradox. No matter how I wanted to slice and dice it, it was the sex which brought the cash." She is now on the hunt for a replacement but concedes that it will be difficult in these rough economic times.
Jamaican men are fiercely loyal to their primal, promiscuous genes and to some, it is more than culture - it is an irresistible compulsion. But the economic crunch is hitting even that destructive pastime.
Sam is 36, lives with his 30-year-old partner in a common-law relationship, has two children with her and owns and operates a small garage. Under normal circumstances he would not keep another woman, but if a sexual opportunity presented itself he would yield. Now, he says, that has changed.
"Less work coming in, money harder to collect - I have to hol' mi corners now." He refers to his common-law wife as "Mama" who he says assists in running the small business. "Right now mi an Mama tighter because of di global crisis so di outside fun lock off."
In Jamaica where over 80 per cent of the cohabiting population do so untroubled by the formality of a marriage certificate and about 75 per cent of the adult population have never sat a single exam, playing around occurs across very blurred lines and is often a trigger for domestic violence and even murder.
Sam gives Mama $25,000 per month to cover expenses in the modest home which they own, but he is always willing to pick up the tab for any extra expenses that may crop up. The change in his behaviour is, as he says, a necessary one to ensure that he and Mama will survive the economic crisis.
There is a persistent begging culture in Jamaica which has increased rapidly in the last year. Men prey on other men whom they see as economically stronger, and young women, especially those unemployed and living in inner-city enclaves, are experts at begging. The prettier ones are masters of the game where too many of them prefer begging to paid employment.
Two years ago I arranged jobs for two uneducated young women who were best friends. The jobs were menial - barmaids, but the pay was $6,000 per week, good for girls who can barely add and subtract whole numbers. After a month I saw them- unemployed again. The conversation went like this.
"What happen? Why yuh not working?" I asked.
One laughed derisively. "Mark, di hours dem too long an mi can stay home an make $10,000 a week an more," she said.
They both explained that various 'older men' assisted them in paying their rental (cheap at $10,000 per month), providing phone credits and even picking up the tabs for items like the light bill and cooking gas. Uneducated though they were, they used a mixture of sexual lure and female guile to survive economically.
Last week I saw one of them and the picture had changed dramatically. "Mark, find a job fi mi nuh," she pleaded. I resisted the temptation to say something unkind to her but I said, "You seem to be doing quite well. I recently saw your picture in the . What was that about?" She explained that she had done a photo shoot for a glamour competition, but in the end she still needed to work.
I asked her about her "older man". "All a dem lock shop now. Nobody have any money to spend. Jesus, what a time hard!" she said. Then she attempted to "borrow" $3,000 from me, saying that she would get it from another man to pay me back next week. "I tell you what," I said, smiling knowingly. "Here is $500. You don't owe me anything." Then I hurriedly left.
As the nation braces for a date with the IMF, "outside" relationships are themselves slipping into recession. As the cold grip of the economic crisis tightens and the religious base, as always, looks to God for our salvation and the government prepares us for the IMF nuptials, the more pragmatic side of our carnal nature beckons us to moderation, not out of desire but through sheer necessity.
Marriage, sex and infidelity will survive long after this recession is behind us. For now, however, grown men are tuning in more frequently to the music at home. It may not be all harmonious but one thing is certain - outside it is all cacophony, sexual and economic.
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