#BTTribute – My friend Owen Arthur

I met Owen Seymour Arthur

One Sunday afternoon.

I went to Jerusalem

(St Peter),

To see his cousin June.

Suddenly,

This short,

Light-skinned fellow

Quietly came up the gap.

Immediately

My conversation with June…

Got interrupt!

Without saying a single word

She ran right up to him.

“Is that your boyfriend?”

I asked June.

“No idiot,

That’s my cousin Owen.”

June and I relationship

Grew each day,

Each hour.

She bore me my

First beautiful daughter.

This girl

From Mile and a Quarter.

Then, one day she said to me

(Without fanfare or fuss),

Owen will study Economics

At Jamaica’s Mona Campus.

I was so elated.

Let me state clear and plain,

For I knew

He exhibited

A tremendous brain.

He used to walk

To CP school,

Not because he loved the atmosphere.

But his poor family

Could not afford to give him bus fare.

That meant nothing to Owen

(Who never held his tongue).

He would simply say

“I cannot let my family down”

He lived in Jamaica

After his studies.

This brilliant Bajan student

In time to come became an adviser

To the Jamaican government.

He came home,

Joined the BLP.

(Although his dad

was a DEM),

Loved his father unceasingly.

To that we say amen!

Tom Adams quickly called on him,

This man Owen,

This rock

To run for

The St. Peter seat

Against popular teacher

Sybil Leacock.

The race was as close as close could be.

A recount did take place.

By the narrowest of victories

He won the St. Peter race.

He grew quickly

In the party.

And when Tom passed away,

He became the leader.

What else can I say?

He inherited a country

Crippled economically.

He,

(This economic guru)

Saved this place fuh we.

He won three straight elections.

But politics is strange.

Despite his marvelous efforts,

The people voted for change.

He left the treasury in the black

When he said goodbye.

Unemployment down

All over this town,

The foreign exchange high.

On a personal note,

He grew his own food constantly.

“Gabby,

(He’ll say)

Stop eating junk,

Come and get real food from me.”

Tomatoes,

Thyme and seasoning,

Tumeric and ginger galore,

I would get from Owen.

He was my vegetable store.

He made me

The cultural

Ambassador.

This is what he said,

“Sir Garry,

Sir Everton Weekes and you,

In this country

Must never beg for bread.”

A few days ago

This giant of a man

Had a massive heart attack.

I felt in my heart

The Owen I knew,

The great fighter,

Would be coming back.

But God

Had a different plan.

I hurt.

I cry.

I moan.

For one of the greatest human beings

I have ever known.

Written July 27, 2020

by Dr the most Honourable Anthony Gabby Carter