I am always hearing that the mandate of BU and BFP is about the voices of the people must be heard. And that these Blogs are telling the people of Barbados they protect “Free Speech” and “Freedom” of the press that they the BLOGS correctly say is not practiced by the mainstream media in Barbados.

None of these things seem to be consistently followed especially at BFP. but are rather enforced in a hap hazzard and personmal way. I am not the only one suggesting this incidentally others are too.

You cannot ban someone or stop the vulgarity as we saw today against Adrian Loveridge unless every piece of mail is edited or vetted. And I do not think anyone can expect that with a blog.

Therefore if BU or BFP wishes someone to be banned maybe they should ask wordpress to block that IP from logging into BFP or BU. And even that is no gurantee because the offending person can use another persons computer I THINK!

What I am asking is this what are your guidelines on these matters as I am interested in knowing so out of the blue you do not kick me in the ass too!

While using childishness and innuendo to make your case.

We have tried not to post too many rules and to instead rely on the decency of mankind. It is our blog and we will exercise any editorial judgment when we think fit. That’s all we can say foe now.

David

Class 4 (77 pupils) which will prepare for the 11+ is to be transferred as a group to Bay Primary. All others will be sent to schools in the Bridgetown area. Many of the parents who have children outside the catchment area maybe the ones to lose out because the Ministry’s policy is one of committing to the school in the area where the parent lives. This caused some heated exchanges because the point was made that most of the primary schools in Bridgetown all have a high % of children from outside the catchment area.

All in all I think the Ministry was faced with a difficult situation and they have done the best in the circumstances. We would have liked for the school to have been reallocated in mass with teachers etc but that is a hard ask.

Look on the Blog Up, under “No Name”, third post down, seventh paragraph in the comment.

How can Gabby have anything but a stupid smile on his face when he is “freaking out” most of the time! Furthermore, he may be smiling up at Owing now, but if the DLP win the next elections, see how fast Gabby will fly back in that nest!

I think many people have realized by now that your aim is to degrade the credibilty of the above 2 blogs you mentioned. Sadly, to your advantage, there are people who will be turned off by your hateful comments, and will decide to give those sites negative press, without having read any of the other articles. Luckily, there are also those who have read/seen through you, and your attacks will not be successful in deterring them.

BFPE, this is not a time to spout such unconstructive comments or to attack your competitors. I’m sure you would agree that this tragedy hits home to every person, so that many are compeled to share the information through blogs which is their only outlet as a private person. These blogs give readers from all walks of life an opportunity to express their opinions.

If you don’t like the message, you don’t have to shoot the messenger. Let’s be civil and respectful to each other in this time of mourning.

It exposes a lot of the LIES posted on Barbados Free Press and Barbados Underground.

BFPE.

http://www.nationnews.com/story/348410770325200.php

Chilling screams from below

Published on: 9/2/07.

This aerial view of the incident shows Gercine Carter’s home (brown top house on road with fire trucks) at top right. (AM)

by GERCINE CARTER

I grew up at Carlisle View in Brittons X Road, a house sitting opposite an expanse of trees and pasture overlooking the tranquil Carlisle Bay.

In my early 20s I looked on sadly as that pasture where I played, the trees which I climbed and in whose branches I could often be found perched with a book, were all bulldozed to make way for a housing development. A development that I often felt robbed me of my childhood view, and my brothers, sisters, and neighbourhood friends of a playground; a place where they would defy my mother’s orders not to explore the cave, throw stones at the bats and just simply be boys.

As the housing lots were laid out, I would walk across the former pasture to the ridge many an afternoon and stand on one particular spot where I visualised having my own home where I could always see Carlisle Bay and relive childhood memories over and over.

That was more than 30 years ago. Houses went up in the development, as well as three apartment blocks.

An effort to acquire my favourite lot failed. One of the three apartment blocks went up directly opposite my family home and with shattered hopes of ever living “in the old pasture” I left Carlisle View and Brittons X Road to live on my own.

My view of Carlisle Bay had been taken away for good.

Or so I thought.

It was long after midnight, last Sunday, after the usual Saturday night lime with my family and neighbourhood residents who patronise my brother’s weekend barbecue business, that I settled down to sleep at my mother’s house.

Coming awake some time after, I heard the frantic barking of the dogs living next door to the Shalom apartments. There was a strange sound coming from that direction, a sound that even now I find difficult to describe.

Looking across to the Shalom apartment block straight ahead I noticed a little red car sitting in the garage of the first apartment, with a light burning overhead. The second apartment next door to this, and which I was told had been vacated just about two weeks ago, was in darkness. So too, were the fourth and fifth apartments at the other end of the building.

However, lights burned throughout the third or middle apartment where my little niece and nephew and other children from the area had joined that tenant’s kids to play hide and seek around the apartment block until about 9 p.m. the Saturday night.

Failing to detect what could be amiss, I returned to bed uneasy with the dogs’ barking and still hearing the sound.

It was 2:23 a.m.

Nothing could have prepared me for the sight about two hours later. Startled from sleep by a hysterical brother, the entire household was ordered: “Everybody get up and open the front door and tell me what you all see.”

Shocking view

Hurrying to the door, I was almost overcome by the shock of the view of Carlisle Bay, from which I had been separated by two apartments just two hours ago.

The earth had swallowed up two apartments and a third was leaning precariously towards the gaping hole. Visible was the bedroom with the bed of those children who had narrowly escaped with their parents.

“The apartments gone and that man and his family are in there,” My brother wailed as he fell to the ground crying uncontrollably. Beside him my sister sank to her knees in the street crying: “Oh God, that man and his children that I served with food tonight are in the first apartment.”

They were talking about Donavere Codrington, his wife Cassandra and children Shaquanda, Shaquille, and Yashiro.

Instinctively, we all got up from the street and ran towards the area. While my sister and I stood back out of fear, my brother ran to the edge, and called out to Donavere whom he had only seen for the first time the previous night.

The frantic man was standing beside his red car still visible below the earth pleading for help, at the same time begging my brother David not to leave him.

Giving Donavere the reassurance that he was getting that help, David ran to call for assistance, as the childrens’ heart-rending screams in the background pierced the air from below.

There was an immediate response from the Royal Barbados Police Force and the Barbados Fire Service. But as firemen ran towards the building a second collapse reverberated through the area, sending everyone scampering.

Not daunted by this, my distraught brother, this time accompanied by another brother, ran back to the hole, one spotting a light and the other calling out to Donavere.

To their relief, he responded, indicating he was injured and again pleading for help.

That relief turned to grief within seconds as the thunderous sound of a massive boulder falling on the metal roof below echoed in a third collapse.

Everyone recoiled as the apartments continued to fall deeper and deeper into the earth’s cavity, the noise of the falling building shattering the peace of the morning. That noise was amplified by the metal clamour of two cars, a heavy duty auto mechanic jack and other material joining the fall as the floor beneath the nearby mechanic’s garage followed in yet another collapse within seconds after the third.

In tears and with my heart racing I placed my hands on my head and cried to my sister standing nearby: “Oh my God, they are dead now.”