Dear Editor,
As I look around the wreckage that embodies the political landscape, I realize that what was once a motley assemblage of the local lunatic fringe has since expanded into a staggering national phenomenon. The local lunatic fringe in Guyana today is no longer limited to a handful of damaged political and bureaucratic characters engaged in dirty deeds; but into something of a growth industry reaching far into every cell of society. Since Mr. Huge (L’il Joe no longer) has seized the label of “No more Nice Time” then I am forced to take for myself what is left and fits rather awkwardly, as in, “No more Mr. Nice Guy.” Where do I start?
The disclosures and recommendations in that City Hall CoI report speaks volumes. The whole place is rotted and pungent through and through. I know they are mere recommendations and could very well get lost in the politics with nothing happening, but look at those senior positions and their related extensions: incompetence and conspiracy appear to rule the roost. Allegedly, one big bacchanal. Meanwhile, dumb fellas like me pay dues to City Hall one year in advance, then have to double down and come out of pocket to have garbage collected privately. It is why I advocate for the return of the cat (I am not speaking of jazz great Jimmy “the Cat” Smith). I am talking about the cat-o-nine. To put the icing on the cake, the Hon. Joseph Harmon is reported to have said that with a new council on board, the garbage crisis can be addressed. What’s up with that, sir? It that a joke or insult? THEY DON’T HAVE ANY MONEY.
Next, it must be admitted that, under the PPP, contracts caused something to be built; even it collapsed or fell apart or washed away. In the last three years, contractors got paid before the first day’s work started as much as 90% of the funds; not a single nail hammered or one spade turned. Is this politics or procurement or production? Or what? The fellas cannot build anything, since so much must be shared with the bagmen of bureaucratic and political principals. In addition, I hear there is nice money to be made for information, such as naming the field, who is the low bidder and the amount, and putting a spoke in the wheel of threatening competition through bureaucratic trickeries. The thing was an art before, now it is a science.
As a man from the capitalist heartland, what is there not to like about that Berbice Bridge? Put in a small piece (some 20%) and get almost the whole thing. Why, the odds are better than Las Vegas. But people in this country have no shame: deh teef Halloween and Thanksgiving from the Americans; now comes Powerball in the form of the Berbice Bridge. Bet a dollar and get a million. Guaranteed. And if that needs a sweetener from generous hospitable Guyanese, here take ten. That would be ten million for the same one lousy dirty dollar. I should be near investment arrangements like those. Money, money, money…. I think that was the O’Jays. I have to be the silliest guy around to let such a sweet rich world pass me by untouched.
Here is one that tells how sleazy people around here are. The nation is informed that its leader is stricken, and as its swallows and struggles with this harsh bitter pill, somebody sneaks in through the back door and celebrates with a boombox of vulgarity: no-confidence motion. A few days wait would have hurt? Would delaying a little to introduce such a measure have been so untimely, so lacking in tactical merit? Some things are just not done. Never! Well, not by civilized honourable folks. This is not just unspeakable, but despicable. What does it say of those who smile in your face and all the time plot to take your place (O’Jays again from the very aptly titled Backstabbers track). A nice example of local lunacy in action. These are not sporadic episodes but a way of life locally. Surely the opposition PPP contains people who can rise above the stench of its putrid skull and say: not now; not this…. That is one cowed bunch.
The St. Joseph High School Fair
provided a textbook case of the local lunacy that has taken inextricable hold in so many areas of this lost land. The developments there on that troubled evening reinforced some of what is wrong here. A school fair for children at eleven in the night? Although, the ugliness turned out to match the hues of the institution, I believe that it was certainly not to sway to the “Midnight Blue” of Bajan songbird of yore, Wendy Alleyne -too tame, too slow. School administrators, parents (do they still have control of their homes?) and others look like they themselves are in dire need of lessons. Round-the-clock lessons accompanied by corporal punishment. Surely, there is a limit to foolishness! Correction: this is not appalling dumbness, but outright lunacy of the most educational sort. What happens there during the day….? The police pass muster in this matter.
Integrity Commission non-filers are being unfairly scrutinized and called to task. After all, people need time to rearrange matters in such a way that those with inquiring minds either end up against a wall or in a bottomless dark hole leading nowhere. Time for consideration (what to leave with whom); allocation (how much with he or she); calculation (what could stand up); and imagination (creativity in crafting a persuasive picture), all these things take long and the Integrity Commission ought to be more sensitive and caring. Objection is also registered with this local lunacy of public shaming of hardworking people scrambling to put house in (respectable) order. Of course, that depends on whose interests such hard work is dedicated. If drunk drivers were entitled to a pass from public embarrassment, I say that the same standard should prevail for ultra -careful public servants. Last, the commission should remember that church and state are separate in Guyana: That is why some men whether in parliament or in prayer or public service have no issues with pork in any form from any direction: straight, dressed, from the barrel, or in the teeth and fingernails. Just bring it on, baby.
Clearly, the principles of the national ethical base have been eroded and replaced with something disfigured and monstrous. Personal and collective integrity has shattered on the shoals of cash. There is only the starkness of Omar Khayyam: I myself am but heaven and hell. The slice of heaven is thin to the point of invisibility. The local lunatic fringe is a fringe no more.
Yours faithfully,
GHK Lall
