Mr. Errol D. Bean

Born in Hanover, Western Jamaica, Errol Bean grew up in Frankfield, Clarendon. He was called to the Christian Ministry in 1971, and pursued studies at the United Theological College of the West Indies.

After graduating and serving as pastor in Bean the Jamaica Baptist Union for some years, the author then focused fully on teaching. He spent several years at Calabar High School and at Shortwood Teacher’s College. During the period 1985-1987, he produce and hosted a sponsored programme “Words and Music” on the then JBC Radio.

Between 1992 and 1996, the author worked with Jamaica Mutual Life as a life Underwriter. Still involved with people-o entered business, the author now works in the co-operative Credit Union Movement as a Marketing Representative. He is married with one daughter.

Day to night we stare at the sky

While some of our elevated kin

must be shaded or they die.

Exposed to the fun or fury of the rain,

We have been battered by many a violent hurricane.

Growing freely we face the sun,

Imported plant food we're served none

-Like The Common People.

We get no tender care,

No loving words we hear -

We are never taken to the FAIR,

Yet faithfully, some of us bloom throughout the year.

We do not decorate the EXPO,

We are not tagged for the SHOW -

But silently we work (Don't you know?)

-Like The Common People.

(We accept) most of us will not be given a big name –

Or get pulled into flower-race game;

We may never earn florist fortune or fame.

We get no encouragement nor incentive­-

But from Morant Point to Negril Point

We are glowingly decorative

-Like The Rich Blend Of The Common People.

(Nostalgia overwhelms us - innocent, care-free, happy children

made dolly house and played "dutty pot" -

'twas the nicest recognition we ever got;

they jointed us, beautiful "little reds",

made necklace, wrist-bands, rings, ankle-lets and natural plaits or 'Chiney bumps', heads,

gracefully bedecked.

-Return, Little Common People.

Aspirants, pretenders -

People of middle and high societies,

A vow you have to keep us in our place:

-out there

       -in there

       -back there

-down there,

And from the neighbourhood of your Green House

palaces efface -

Take time and observe,

and Give honour where it is deserved.

You who do not regard us as special

Nor think us essential,

Check our credentials:

we sweeten places that are stink, with our blended fragrance;

we brighten the side-walks that are dirty, with our yellow, red and pink;

we wreathe the graves of the poor, common abandoned dead,

we decorate a mystic Revivalist Woman's head;

we beautify the banks of the rugged, winding roads along the countryside,

we drape a neglected, rusty fence and restore lost pride;

we labour and bloom and give you honey and you sweeten your tea, your lime juice and make the money.

-Hear Us.

we taste the sweat of the common people!

we see and count the tears of the common people!

we feel the pulse, the heartbeat of the common people!

we know the pain of the common people!

we share the rejection of the common people!

yes, we hear the prayer of the common people!

we wild flowers are the compelling voices of the common people;

RESPECT US!

(To the ordinary Jamaican and

our unsung heroes and heroines)