WILD-EYED ZINKY tried to remember the names of the dead as he sat under a tree with two other gang members in the half-gutted, ramshackle Kingston ghetto called Tel Aviv: ''Artist, Cool Cat. . . .''
''Clinton,'' another gang member added.
''That's right. Clinton,'' said Zinky. ''And Choppy got it.''
''Yeah, Choppy,'' another muttered.
These were not victims of Hurricane Gilbert, which tore through Jamaica in September, killing 45 people, but fellow gang members who were among the hundreds who died in the country's last contested national election, in 1980. Using M-16's, the Tel Aviv gang fought on the side of the People's National Party (P.N.P.) of former Prime Minister Michael N. Manley.
The three blocks west of Gold Street in Central Kingston support Manley's party but the three blocks east of Gold Street, known as Southside, back the Jamaican Labor Party (J.L.P.) of the current Prime Minister, Edward P.G. Seaga. The Southside gang is led by Chubby, a tall, well-built Rastifarian warlord with an elegant mane of dreadlocks. He was wounded fighting for Seaga in the 1980 election and recalls 10 friends who were killed around Gold Street.
Chubby used to claim he owned two M-16's, but he now says the police confiscated one. What everyone wants to know is if he will use the other one this year. For even while Jamaicans dig out from the mightiest hurricane of the century, they are preparing, with a mixture of dread and excitement, for the first contested national election since the 1980 bloodbath.
It will take months to clean up from Hurricane Gilbert and the estimated $1 billion worth of damage it left. Thousands of homes were destroyed and many others, including one of Manley's, lost their roofs. The once-lush Jamaican landscape is scarred now, and littered with broken and fallen trees. There will be almost no coconut, coffee or banana crops this year and electricity, by optimistic projections, will not be fully restored until Christmas.
Gilbert may be one of the most political hurricanes in Caribbean history. Under the Constitution, the Prime Minister must call elections sometime before April 10, 1989, and while an opinion poll just before Gilbert struck showed Seaga trailing Manley by 20 points, the Prime Minister's ability to dispense disaster relief has seemed to improve his standing. For the first time in years, some analysts believe, Seaga has at least a chance to win re-election.
Suddenly, instead of Manley's seemingly inevitable return, the country is facing another tense election. Although the candidates have signed an agreement pledging a peaceful campaign, Jamaicans are apprehensive about this fourth and possibly last mano a mano, a final battle between two men of rare talents and tragic flaws who for 14 years have entangled Jamaica in a bitter, often bloody rivalry.
SEAGA, 58, AND MANLEY, 63, ARE THE TWO MOST dynamically different personalities in Jamaican public life. Manley laughs too loudly at his own jokes; even slight smiles are rare from Seaga. Manley is seen as a romantic and a dreamer; Seaga is a pragmatist criticized even within his party for cold-bloodedness.
In the eyes of many Jamaicans, these men have managed to discredit the two leading economic theories of our time. Manley's eight years of centralized socialism, followed by Seaga's eight years of tight budgets and free enterprise, have left Jamaica a very poor country. So this year, while Seaga the conservative has been pushing for social programs, Manley the socialist has been talking about the importance of free enterprise.
But the real rivalry between the parties - both founded as pro-labor - is not ideological. The parties are clanlike, demanding ironclad loyalty which they pay off with patronage. And that has been the root of the violence.
Today, money flows from Seaga's party into Southside - to Chubby's headquarters, the Baltimore Pub, a dark, cool place where gang members puff away their afternoons on homemade water pipes, the yellowish marijuana smoke swirling past the black and white photo of the Prime Minister, which contrasts sharply with the mural of the late reggae star Bob Marley beside it.
On the other side of Gold Street, in Tel Aviv, people are angry. Under Michael Manley, they were given public-works jobs, but when Seaga brought the J.L.P. back to power in 1980, he stopped the program, claiming it was unfair political patronage. Since then, there have been few jobs in Tel Aviv.
Although politicians of both parties speak about ending the patronage system, the current fight over disaster relief makes clear that the old ways are still strong. In what has become a major scandal, it emerged that National Security Minister Errol Anderson had a warehouse full of disaster supplies which he was personally controlling. According to several reliable sources, another ruling-party candidate, Joan Gordon-Webley, was seen distributing American-donated flour - in sacks with her picture on them.
While the hurricane supposedly put a hiatus on politics, Seaga, Manley and most of the 120 candidates for seats in Parliament have been vigorously working the island under the guise of inspecting damage and distributing relief. In Central Kingston, Senator Olivia Grange, a Seaga protegee, inspected homes damaged by Gilbert and told the owners, ''You'll be sent some building materials,'' and, ''Your food stamps are going to be doubled.'' Senator Grange passed out Jamaican $20 bills (worth about 4 American dollars) and bought beers for the house in neighborhood hangouts like the Baltimore Pub, Chubby's headquarters. To the gang leader himself, SenatorGrange presented a special gift: 30 newborn chicks to raise.
