Dear Editor,
The news report is that the Minister of Education is to take up residence in a different political resort. The article, ‘Dr Roopnaraine reassigned to the Ministry of the Presidency, Henry will function as Education Minister’ refers (SN June 14). If I were the now former Minister of Education, I would have handled the circumstances with more dignity; if I were the government, I would have engineered a different course. Everyone would get to save face.
It is well known for some time now that the former minister has struggled, and that fulfilling his responsibilities became weightier as time progressed. Time was the only thing that progressed under his watch, to put matters kindly. It is always painful to observe anyone, especially public figures, allowing self to diminish to the point of a negligible presence, and to do so in full public view. Like I said, I would have come to grips with the unforgiving atrophy of time and the river differently. If I am not pulling my weight, not making the contribution desired, not deserving of my place, then it is time to go. Most importantly, when the standards I have set for myself are unreachable, then the day has arrived. I think it did in this instance.
I would go gracefully; and timely too. There are a plethora of reasons to advance in these politically correct days that would furnish adequate cover. Among them are personal reasons, other interests, or family priorities. They suffice. So why not do the right thing? Why perpetuate the agony? Why submit to the sinecure of being carried? Nobody is fooled, or amused.
By all accounts, the former minister has made a tangible contribution, and been a vital presence, in the workings of this society. Those were the days of yore. It is why I say choose the moment and place to depart. Let it be dignified and proud. Let it be straight and on one’s own terms. Now with this latest version of an endless Guyanese political waltz, the minister glides (or hopscotches or is pushed over) from lower Brickdam to the upper elevations of the Ministry of the Presidency. With political and bureaucratic waltzes frozen in motion, it is always joyless to behold the dance of a faded, perhaps failed, romance. I am trying to figure out whether this is about yesterday when I was young; or yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away. Anyhow, the man has finally arrived, except that it is on the downward bound elevator. What price perpetuity?
For its part, the government engages in this expensive operatic flourish, this pathetic political pantomime and expects Guyanese to convulse. Well, they are, but it is more of a grimace, and less of mirth. This feeble gesture is embarrassing all around. If this personnel carousel continues through prestigious posting to the plum of the Ministry of the Presidency, then I foresee increasing competition for the rental of portable toilets. Yes, the place is that crowded. Maybe I should get in that business; every flush rings the registers.
Clearly, this government is not learning, or it does not care what citizens think. The government owes it to the populace not to treat it as though it lacks comprehension or commonsense. Citizens mutter that refrain made famous by Pope and The Tams: What kind of fool do you think I am?
There has to be a mutual untying of the knot, of the ties that did bind once, and which everyone knows do not bind any longer. And if they are ignorant of Brook Benton, then both sides should imitate Engelbert Humperdinck: “Please release me, let me go…” The minister that once was, owes it to himself to go quietly and head high into the solace of the distance of some hermitage on a misty mountain. And if that fails to bring succour, there is always the wistful hope of finding a rose in Spanish Harlem.
For my part, and just for its soothing power, I am contented with Cooke’s “I belong to your heart.” The thought dawns that that is the exact sentiment that both the reaching government and the leaning Minister have in mind. Oh, well…
Yours faithfully,
GHK Lall