Passion and power; they can both make us a little bit crazy perhaps. Not crazy like walking around GT naked kind of crazy but crazy like demanding that people do ridiculous things only because you know you have the power to make them do it.
Now what I’m about to tell you stays between us. And if you think I’m just trying to give you a good laugh then think again. I am trying to save you from the shock and embarrassment which you’re at risk of experiencing on any normal day in our Garden City of Georgetown.
Several years ago I became aware of the existence of a certain magistrate. I had gone to court with my aunt who was determined to see a fowl thief spend some time at Lot 12 Camp Street. I was quite impressed by this magistrate and even thought for a while that I should be one too.
Being a write-a-holic myself I could recognize passion anywhere I saw it. And this magistrate was very passionate about the law. I love to see people doing something they love to do. It tells me that there are people in the world who have dreamed big and achieved their dream and if they can do it so can I.
In recent years I’ve returned to the courtroom of that magistrate several times but for work. I’ve always taken care to smile given that this magistrate was a source of inspiration to me. And I was both surprised and happy to hear later on that the magistrate had been moved to a bigger, better court. By this I mean a court that isn’t interrupted by the bray of a donkey or the crow of a fowl cock.
So here comes the shocker. On Wednesday afternoon I was sitting in a company car. It was a usual hot day in GT. I was muttering to my colleague about the story we were chasing and then I started grumbling to myself as sweat began trickling down my back. Suddenly, the magistrate in question pops into our conversation.
The tale, according to my colleague, goes like this: a woman decked out in a wave of curly burgundy and black hair and sporting piercings throughout the outer curve of both ears was happily chewing some gum. This sort of pleasure should not be enjoyed in courtrooms. Perhaps it’s because some people pop bubbles or because magistrates don’t like to see citizens chewing away like goats.
Poor curly locks, her chewing pleasure was interrupted by a sharp “You madam” coming from the magistrate. And what do you think happened next? Well, to my colleague’s utter disbelief the magistrate proceeded to order poor curly locks to take the chewing gum from her mouth and stick it on her forehead.
Now before I go on, get the picture clear in your head, a grown Guyanese woman standing in a crowded courtroom on a weekday morning with chewing gum stuck to her forehead. What the heck? Even I was quite stunned. I think once way back in my primary school days a teacher did that to my friend.
I must confess that after I heard this story I thought all sorts of not so nice things about the magistrate. I wondered if this person’s passion which had produced fruit and eventually granted power, I wondered whether it had turned into a sort of drunkenness.
But no, I won’t believe it for a second! Our state officials are not drunk on power and they certainly do not make people do anything just because they can make them do it. Poor magistrate. I suppose we Guyanese people really are a tough bunch to deal with.
Anyhow, sign off time for me now. I have work to do and I just saw an email from the honourable Minister of Labour Manzoor Nadir to the editor of the Chronicle and that Presidential Liaison officer dude Kwame:
“URGENT
Kwame
I need to have Chronicle print this in its entirety for tomorrow.”
Nope. No one abuses power in this country.
(srh.midnight@gmail.com)
