Dear Editor,
Several eye-opening notes surfaced from the week long Jubilee celebration. Almost all were jarring.
There was the President publicly acknowledging and recognizing all prior presidents. This is thoughtful, warming, and conciliatory. Still, a couple of the names seriously jarred. I can be encouraged to overlook one; the other rankles. In view of the damage inflicted upon this nation that name should be struck from every pylon, every record. The doubtful should check with the vendors.
Next, if the opposition’s claims are accurate, and its members were disrespected in the manner identified, then that provides an icy shower (or a steamy one) on the way things really are. It is a reality check and disclosure on priorities, sensitivities, and the courtesies and formalities associated with established protocols, or the failure to observe same. This is about what is right, and ought to have been righted, if factual.
Further, the Jubilee celebrations furnish stark powerful evidence of the pitiless chasms truncating and disabling this society. They cannot be ignored, or dismissed, or papered over, or wished away. I/we can hope, appeal, and pray that the embedded distinctive ethnic colour-coding on one side, and the self-inflicted zoning on the other will in time bend and yield, perhaps blend. But the intrusive tableaux refuse to blur, or go away. They jar conscience and consciousness. I agree that a picture is worth a thousand words; sometimes they conceal the anguish of ten thousand unshed ones, too. The frozen pictures speak toward so much that brings a flinching during this time of jubilation, especially as to their projections of where this place can or will not go.
Even further, as I observe the separate and apartness of moments in this historic week, and scan the reminiscences from fifty years ago, it is as if time has stood still, and the Guyanese earth has not rotated, even moved an inch. The raw naked wounds are as evident now, as they were then. I am old enough. The memories and traumas of so-called ‘disturbances’ from fifty plus years ago reverberate and ricochet with the same gut-wrenching upheavals as the electoral season of fifty plus weeks ago. In both instances, and from celebratory, dismaying, and desultory times, the pain goes on seemingly forever in the hearts of those resigned to the distance and isolation of an outsider’s perch. This evokes more than the jarring; it triggers a shudder and much poignancy (again), as to the prospects of a unified destiny.
Last, and perhaps the most jarring moment from this week, was either the accidental or pointed political thrust at troubling history. The setting was the Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception on Brickdam for a 50th anniversary Mass for the nation. The government and opposition leaders were invited. The President and spouse were there, as well as other political figures. There was, also, another citizen in the pews. I cannot say if he was there in a representative capacity, or in a purely personal one. But that attendee was one of those whose presence has been associated, from time to time, with the fallen Roman Catholic priest, Fr Bernard Darke, SJ.
There was the man in the flesh. One has to wonder: a calibrated reminder presence? Or is it one pointing to the healing powers of time?
Indeed, the Lord works in mysterious ways. I could use some more of those works. And after fifty years so, too, could this scorched, separated, and sickly society.
Yours faithfully,
GHK Lall
