Dear Editor,
Yesterday was the International Day for the End to Racial Discrimination. It is hard not to wish for that day to come and stay forever. It is unacceptable to me not to dream for such a season to come to Guyana and hang around without interruption. When we didn’t have, discrimination was our middle name, as inerasable as the hand of God. No! Not Diego Maradona, but what was imprinted on those stone tablets. Two of them with Ten Commandments. Thou shalt not hate. Thou shall be thy brother’s keeper. Now that we have more than we know what to do with, racial discrimination has become our first and last names. If the name is of such origins, and can be associated with that other name, one with a tree, then go thy way and don’t bother to come back.
I am cynical and critical enough to know that an end to racial discrimination is a stretch. We have difficulty dealing with this or that side of the family. Colours spoken of in nuanced colour-coded slurs. If we disown our own, then how can there be that essence in the heart to look with favour upon an opponent that is also a competitor for the riches that came from somewhere. There is only one kind of opponent here. If it is the type that begins with a ‘p’, then it automatically becomes one that starts with an r.’ The same kind observed yesterday, and of which there is toiling by the goodhearted and well-meaning to bring to an end. That will be the day. They tell me that it is not present here, that scowling men make mountains out of molehills. The people at that UN Human Rights Committee came up with their own mountain, and it has to do with how the proceeds from the patrimony are distributed. If that is not discriminatory, then Guyana has just done the unthinkable, achieved the unreachable: an end to racial discrimination. I always suspected that this country had what it takes, but even such a claim of extravagance is too rich for my system.
Those who say to the UN or to knowing skeptics (like me) that racial discrimination is either a product of the imagination, or the vicious handiwork of those prone to sinister exaggeration, pretend at this game of not knowing the distressed and depressed condition of those left out. I must have said it before, so pardon me if I forgot: those are the victims of political and racial discrimination in Guyana. I know them. I deal with them. Listen to them. Learn from them. Forget about haves and have nots. This is about who are held close versus those are kicked to the outside, and then kicked again for good measure. The formula is simple: who voted for + who stood with = who is in and who is out. A job. A contract. A promotion. A confirmation. A slap on the back. Or a door slammed in the face. Of course, it is not racial discrimination. It is the result of a robust process, how the game is fixed, and who always comes out on the losing end. I know that when I see that because I was there when it was a different time. I was on the receiving end of such practices. Try trumping (a nasty term) that experience for its connectivity to Guyanese reality. Today, the faces are different, and the roles are reversed. The common denominator is where all roads terminate. Who stays on? Who gets off, who must get off? Who runs the risk of getting castoff? An end to racial discrimination in Guyana? Not likely. Not even infrequently or casually or unconsciously. This is more than policymaking. It is about making good on what is deep inside.
Sincerely,
GHK Lall
