By Marcia Braveboy
Today they walk around with the deepest, darkest secrets of the bloodshed of a nation, of a tiny island, free as a bird, or are they? I was nine years of age but I remember.
I remember the spectacle of how Grenadians jumped off Fort Rupert (now Fort George) to miss the bullets of Austin and Coard's men.
Marcia Braveboy is a journalist from Grenada who has been living in Trinidad and Tobago for the past 11 years. She has 19 years experience in media, mainly in copy writing and news and broadcast journalism. She can be contacted at email@example.com. Follow her on Twitter: @mbraveboy
I remember how I stretched my eyes across the Carenage from Green Street where I lived within site of the fort and was awed in a good way by the spectacle of people jumping down behind the fort.
I remember how wonderful it looked and it made me laugh with excitement, and then a scream from inside jolted the fear in me to the reality.
I remember how my auntie screamed out, "Child come inside before a bullet come in the verandah."
Then my auntie’s children ran home with stories about how big machine guns passed them on the road to home. How a man was at the bottom of the long steps by the hospital catching people who were running to save their lives. Auntie Glory laugh, she laugh, she laugh as she narrated what happened. When it sunk in what really happened, which we still don't know to this day, she cried and cried and cried...
They say Jacqueline Creft begged the gunmen to save her life because she was with child. I later learned Maurice Bishop told her to say she pregnant so they will leave her alone. Instead, they hated all the bullets they can into her body as the merciless men in their stink boots armed with rifles slaughtered school children and adults before they lined Bishop and his team up against a wall and let them have it. The rest is history.
I remember how Uncle Wayne came home in tears and pondered his future; he knew like many others aligned to Bishop he could not stay in Grenada.
I remember how the nation continued to bleed with this massive brain-drain of women, but mostly husbands, who fled the country for their lives, leaving families fragmented, homes without daddies, and a country with blood in the sky and on the ground. Everything looked red for a while!
Bernard Coard, Hudson Austin, you both and your men journey on... cause for Maurice Bishop, this journey continues.
Journey on Maurice Bishop.