There Miles Windshield Wipers: Now a Certified Sensation

The Jamaica Star article spotlights a surprising and image-conscious evolution of the “windshield wipers” at Three Miles, Kingston — now organized under the Windshield Wipers Association. Decked out in matching blue uniforms boldly asking “Can I wipe your glass?”, the initiative signals a shift from the chaotic hustle many associate with these roadside workers to something more orderly and potentially legitimate.

Collin Brown and Kemar Winston said the uniforms protect them from stigma, stereotypes, and government actions that threaten their way of life.

“Wi out here every day, rain or sun, just fi try survive. But people look pan wi and just see thief,” said 26-year-old Winston, who has been wiping windshields since he was 13.

Recently, the National Security Council announced a crackdown on windshield wipers because of increasing reports of harassment, intimidation, especially against women, and extortion-like behavior at busy intersections. The plan is to take the wipers off the streets and put them in skills training programs, which aim to help them get back on their feet and improve public safety. However, the men at Three Miles find this plan familiar and unconvincing.

But key questions remain:

1. Will they really ask first?

That printed question — “Can I wipe your glass?” — suggests a push toward consent and professionalism, distancing the group from past reports of aggressive and unsolicited service. However, whether the actual behavior changes to consistently asking first rather than jumping straight into action is what will determine public response and success.

2. Will people still feel pressured to say yes?

Even with the question being asked, the setting matters. You’re in traffic, possibly alone, and someone approaches your vehicle — uniform or not, you may still feel obligated or intimidated, especially if:

• You fear a negative reaction for saying “no”
• You’re unsure if refusal could lead to verbal abuse or windshield damage
• You’ve previously had uncomfortable experiences

This is especially relevant considering the National Security Council’s crackdown, which was prompted by exactly those kinds of reports — harassment, intimidation (especially of women), and extortion-like behavior.

Just a few feet from the intersection, about 10 men, both experienced and new, have formed an informal group. They want to separate their work from the trouble caused by the ‘bad apples’ who harm their reputation. A loyal motorist suggested the idea of blue shirts to help them stand out. The wipers liked the idea and made it their own.

“The shirt protect wi,” said Brown. “It mek people see seh wi different. If yuh nuh have on di shirt, yuh not part a wi. Simple.” The shirts aren’t just identifiers, they’re part of a code.

“If one man disrespect the people dem, we ask him fi leave. If it come to it, we call the police,” said Winston. “Cause when trouble start, a we it fall back pan.”

For all the talk about nuisance, the wipers claim their role goes beyond just cleaning glass. They might help an elderly person cross the street, assist a broken-down vehicle, give directions, or offer coins to a beggar in need.

“Sometimes we see somebody look sad, yuh can tell say life a lick dem,” Winston said. “So we say, ‘Smile man and stop sad up yuh self.’ Cause we know weh it feel like.”

The larger tension:

The initiative looks like a public relations makeover, but trust is built on behavior, not shirts. If this association is genuinely focused on changing how its members interact with the public — asking permission, respecting the answer, and avoiding any hint of coercion — then it could become a positive model for how informal workers can organize and self-regulate.

But if the uniforms become a shield for the same old tactics, the initiative could backfire, reinforcing public frustration and leading to further enforcement crackdowns.

In addition to their cleaning bottles, half-filled with homemade solution, the men display their ‘good luck money’ — crumpled $50 and $100 bills. They express gratitude for every cent they receive. When motorists offer nothing, they understand. More than money, they seek respect.

The crackdown, however, highlights a deeper issue. Thousands of Jamaicans rely on informal street work — windshield wiping, vending, hauling goods — for daily survival. While the state often sees these jobs as illegal or disruptive, those doing them see them as essential. “The world can’t have only doctor and nurse,” said Brown. “Who clean up the streets? Who collect the garbage? Who wipe the glass?”

Most of the men come from Majesty Gardens, a nearby community marked by both hardship and resilience.
Jamaica Star

“Majesty build we,” one wiper explained. “It show yuh wrong and right. Some youth choose the wrong path, but we a try choose right.” Despite this, public perception remains harsh and police relations are strained, even though Hunts Bay Police Station is just a walk away.

“Some police nuh see we as human,” said Brown. “Dem just see nuisance.”

Still, the wipers stand resolute in their commitment. They boldly expose wrongdoing, unafraid of being labeled informers. While the government suggests training, the wipers have their sights set on the farm work program as their true hope. It’s a dream shared by many—a steady job abroad, a legitimate income, and the opportunity to create a brighter future for their children.

“Mi woulda go HEART, but mi have pickney fi feed. If mi go school, dem hungry. Out yah help mi survive,” said Winston. And still, they remain open to regulation. They’ve even suggested paying taxes and being formally licensed.

Donations from compassionate passers-by, such as bags of rice, tinned food, and toiletries, occasionally show up, and each time they do, the men express how it fills their hearts with gratitude, reminding them that there are people out there who recognize their intrinsic worth.

Brown said, “We deh yah so wid a aim, fi cook a food, tek care a we family, and mek sure nobody cya say we never try.”

Bottom line:

This move is a step in the right direction, but it needs to be backed by consistent, respectful action to win over the public. The question on their shirts is only meaningful if the answer “No” is respected without question.