The Tribune

By RUPERT MISSICK Jr

and PACO NUNEZ

IN the middle of the government’s crackdown on crime, The Tribune today launches an in-depth exploration of the social and psychological roots of criminality in the Bahamas.

Through their actions and statements, our political leaders have indicated that in their view, crime is something that originates at the fringes of society, perpetrated by a deviant minority and most properly addressed by a show of force.

But those who have worked for years behind the scenes to better the lives of the most downtrodden and marginalised in this society say this approach treats symptoms rather than causes, and will ultimately only make matters worse.

“The McCabe Project” aims to uncover the hurt that leads to crime, the conditions that spawn it, the damage left in its wake and the various efforts to stop it.

The aim is to get beneath the bruise that is the rising rate of crime rate and focus on the haemorrhaging beneath the surface of the headlines, the political talking points, and apathy of the general public.

The project takes its name from the poem “McCabe’s Curse” written by a British Sea Captain of the same name who, in the early 1800s, was himself was a victim of crime in the Bahamas.

Much of the old sea captain’s curse has become a reality for a country that has more than three times as many homicides per capita as the United States.

McCabe’s Curse

Land of cursed rocks and stones,

Land where many leave their bones,

Land of rascals, rogues, and pedlars,

Busy scandalising meddlers;

Land of poverty and want,

Where pride is plenty, money scant,

Take this, my very heartiest curse,

And, if I could, I’d give you worse;

For all your natives, I know well,

Love me as I love hell;

And to them I’m just as civil,

And wish them all sent to the devil.

May whirlwinds, earthquakes, tempest, rain,

Fever, ague, want and pain,

Poverty and famine fell

Drive them all to hottest hell,

And when they’re dead, the worthless dogs,

May they be rooted up by hogs,

Or lying in their lodgings narrow,

May land-crabs feast upon their marrow.