Could Dictatorship Be The Answer?

I cannot believe I am actually saying this, but could it be that we here in the Caribbean, the islands of Trinidad and Tobago to be exact, are simply not capable of having a functional democracy? Could it be that our present parliamentary system is just out of sync with the realities of our existence and actually works against us, not for us? Could dictatorship be the answer?

Now I am a big fan of democracy but at the same time it seems quite clear to me that such an ideal can only work under certain circumstances. Take a look at what is happening in Iraq and you will see the beginnings of a democratic disaster. Shush! All you who immediately say, “You are not giving Iraqis enough credit. Why do you underestimate them?” Silly optimists I say. Why? Because you are the ones not giving Iraqis enough credit. You are not giving credit to their history, their diversity and their fundamentalist religious sectarianism which all go against the notion that all men are created equal and shall have a say in the government. A democracy cannot work alongside a theocracy. A democracy cannot work alongside abysmal chasms in class, culture and gender relations. A democracy cannot work when the people themselves are not empowered nor inclined towards it. The Iraqi people as we know them today are actually comprised of three main separate tribes who were forced to form a de facto country by Western outsiders. Tribal politics is in their blood, their heritage, their culture. Of course, the Western world has always been blissfully and deliberately ignorant and unconcerned about the cultural preferences of foreign brown skinned and darker people with funny accents. We assume everyone wants to live just like Americans and Europeans not so? Don’t those people know what’s good for them?

Well, actually they DO. The separate fractions in Iraq each want back their own homeland. They each want to live and be governed within their own tribal culture and religious rules. Those who believe women should be covered up from head to toe and be little more than property do not want to abide by any constitution that says otherwise. Those who believe the opposite do not want to have to answer to those who disagree and so on. A piece of paper is not enough to reverse hundreds of years of tradition. A democracy rooted in Western idealism more so than Arab reality, will crumble under religious revolt. Sad to say it but the only thing that was able to hold that fragile nation together was a powerful dictatorship. And yes, Saddam was an infected asshole of universal dimensions who committed genocide but the fact remains that people feared him and got in line. Religious fundamentalism had to take a back seat and women were allowed to seek higher education and careers. Now the Islamic extremists are killing female teachers and students.

On that note, let’s return home. The present situation in Trinidad and Tobago, like Iraq, is beginning to make me question our readiness for a democracy. Note I used the word, “readiness” instead of maybe a word like, “worthiness.” For while we are indeed worthy as all countries are of whichever system of government they so desire, I am starting to question our ability to handle a democracy. In fact I doubt we ever did have a democracy. Let me get specific here. The people of my home land have no real power and cannot effect change in any way. The government simply does not listen to them. The media is either under government control or is stifled and threatened when it probes too deeply or works against the government’s political agenda. Many of our laws are not rooted in equality or even practicality for that matter, but are arcane Victorian inspired, semi religious relics. Top government officials can be bought. There are deep divisions in our country along racial lines and two equally horrific choices of government based solely on race. Each choice is just as autocratic and demeaning to the people as the next. So in fact, we already have an oppressive, corrupt dictatorship. No matter which party is in power, they together with the business sector and criminal masterminds assume free reign of the country. The people are nothing but chattel. Our island’s forests, rivers, beaches, natural resources are nothing but their playground. It is a triune dictatorship that gives a new meaning to our La Trinity which now stands for Business Sector “The Father” (The brains, financier, decision maker and implementer), PNM/UNC “The Son” (The opiate, mouth piece and enabler) and Crime Lords “The Holy Ghost” (The executioner and subjugator).

My people, the time has come for we the people to slay the three headed beast and in order to do so, we cannot direct our attack at the Son. It is not the decision maker in this triangle, it’s power is only given by permission and is nothing more than a puppet of the Father head. The hit must be aimed squarely at the Business Sector. The only power we the people have over our Trinity dictatorship is to cut off their money flow. In order to do this, we must stop being such sissies and learn to live without certain things. We must embrace temporary hardship with hope and comfort in each other. Do not give in to fear and do not believe the PR made-over financial reports that says our economy is booming and so things, “couldn’t be all that bad”. Economic reports only indicate how much money was made by the very same Trinity monster we want to kill. It is getting fat and healthy, why should that be of any reassurance to us who are either outright starving or getting there? We know the vast majority of Trinis are not the ones reaping the benefits of the biggest energy boom in the world’s history. Trinidadians need to stop pretending we currently “fit in” with the popular USA girl and her G8 clique at UN High School. We don’t. We sit at the losers table with Jamaica. Haiti and Rwanda as far as ethnic division, corruption, degradation, disempowerment, human brutality, underdevelopment and just plain frustrating poverty and glaring lack of social services are concerned. Developed countries look at our sorry asses and laugh, wishing they could skip the long route of unfair trade and foreign policy and instead come and directly take everything they envy away from us since we obviously don’t even appreciate our own island, people and our worth, which is why we continue to spread our legs and let that Trinity monster dictatorship rape us for the developed world’s voyeuristic pleasure. “Tsk, tsk, those black people, they have so much wealth and as usual they don’t even know how to run their affairs and stand up for themselves.”

This week my Trini pride was given a hard slap in the face, when in a news report, my country was used in a cautionary tale about corruption and crime along with Jamaica and Colombia. Do you remember when we used to be the island everyone in the Caribbean wanted to imitate? When you told someone in Grenada, St. Vincent, St. Lucia etc you are a Trini or they caught your accent their reaction was, ‘Hey! Trini! You know, I visited Trinidad once! San Juan, I have cousins there! Which part of Trinidad are you from? Maraval? Oooooo I heard there is nice. Oh I love the food, love the parties, love the people, my aunt, cousin boyfriend married to a Trini……” and on and on they will go, happy to bask in your glowing Trini aura. Nowadays it’s, “ Woah… Trini eh? Man, how you surviving living there? I don’t think I could live there nah.” Imagine now we are used as an example of what other islands should NOT become. Despite all our “Miami-esque” condos, shopping malls and wholesale clubs and sports bars and beauty queen material, we have only succeeded in a superficial, materialistic imitation of those powerful developed countries. “New York” of the Caribbean my ass! Who the hell do some Trinis think they are fooling driving their BMWs and Audis on pot holed streets littered with rotting vegetables and used condoms, past shanty towns and vagrants shitting on the sidewalk and street children begging for money? We ain’t all that. Not yet. Some Trinis who worship at the altar of the Father head need to realize that and snap out of the Marie Antoinette daydream they are living in. What we should really imitate from the developed countries is the spirit of the people of those nations when they were not always so rich and powerful. Their people sacrificed life and limb in civil wars, world wars and political revolution and civil protest for social change to make their current affluent democracies what they are today. We have not even begun to sacrifice a grain of rice!

My friends, if indeed we must endure a dictatorship, at least let it be one that sprung from our revolt against our oppressive and inept so-called democracy. If we must endure a dictatorship then let it be called thus openly and honestly. At least with such transperancy we have a greater chance of getting a good leader. One with strong ethics and charisma who can inspire or if necessary FORCE Indo-Trinis and Afro-Trinis together again; go ballistic on the criminals with heavy artillery and manpower; close the class gap, fix the health system and for the sake of us all decree some common sense laws rooted in equality and protection of our environment and resources. If so called ‘democracy” means another 20 years of PNM and UNC then give me a dictator any day. It is more power than we could ever hope to have at present. If our leader gets out of line, we can overthrow him or ask the USA to do it for us, after all, we have oil and natural gas and we’re a stepping stone away from Venezuela, the next country I predict they will soon invade and on which they will force their version of democracy :).

Undressed

Do you have to brace yourself?
As you feel the sick tension rising?
The hairs on your back standing on end
The fists clench in disgusted anticipation
You bristle preparedly
Jaw tight
Eyes blank but harsh
And why?

Ruff neck posse of men approaching
Contstruction workers at 3 o’clock

Oh God let me be invisible
Let me pass quietly like a baby’s gentle fart
Let my tits shrivel up into my chest
Let my lips become a hard line
Let me hunch over like a grandmother
Let my ass fall off and lie bloated like roadkill
And why?

Hungry eyed men on my block, waiting
Old men leechers at 12 o’clock

They devour my body with yellowey eyes
Tongues slimy on bulbous black lips
Snake-like hisses and sucking wet body noises
Callous hands grabbing their smelly crotches
Necks craning into my personal space
Trying to penetrate my shield of protection
Trying to avert my straight-ahead dead stare
Trying to verbally rape me
And why?

I am female
I am black
I am forever to be made a victim because of it
By my own black brothers, who undress those they cannot possess
Black men who refuse to allow a woman to feel an iota of pride
Because it would make them feel impotent inside
Because all they have is a mouth, muscle and cock and little else to offer
And the only way to feed the aching hunger is to tear down another
And why?
Why?


©Jessica Joseph

Emerging From Hibernation

Greetings fellow aliens!

Yes I know about the search and rescue parties sent out on my behalf. Thank you for all the warm fuzzy thoughts. I am alive and well, winding down my third year in St. Lucia and anticipating everything from a fourth year here (hopefully on a CSME certificate) to God knows what. The universe always has a way of dropping drastic changes into my path.

Right now I am just coming out of a Mt. Everest pile of work and obligations. As those of you who have shared the advertising experience know, August to December is HELL in an agency. Calendars, annual reports, xmas promotions, 2006 marketing plans and more. Furthermore with Digicel's acquisition of Cingular's Caribbean operations in Antigua, Anguilla, St. Kitts, Nevis, Bahamas, Turks and Caicos, Curacao and Dominica, I have time for little else.

That however does not mean I am not brimming over with issues I need to vent on. Foremost on my mind is the island closest to my heart, Trinidad. I am fighting off massive depression over what is going on. I have stopped reading the online newspapers because it is feeding a fear of returning to my country to start a life. At night I dream of tidal waves, volcanoes and mass panic in the streets of my country. I keep feeling something BAD and unavoidable is going to happen and like most of my friends, the powerlessness is overwhelming. At times the anger in me wells up and I just explode into a rant, sometimes at the most inappropriate of times.

You see, the disgusting mess in Trinidad is part of a wider epidemic that I see infecting almost every island I travel to. Right now in St. Lucia, there is a crime wave and law enforcement too incompetent to stop it. In Trinidad it is kidnappings, over here it is theft and rape, pedophilia in particular is rampant. For an island of only around 160,000 it is disgusting how high it is. The cost of living is going up and the gap between the classes is widening at a fast rate and you can feel the anger and frustration brimming. People snap and quarrel over any petty incident. Just as Trinidadians are losing their joie de vive, so too are Lucians losing their docile demeanor. The office where I work has been broken into THREE TIMES this year, even with an alarm system installed. Attacks on and harassment of tourists is escalating. Just like my home country, those with money have become tense, insular and suspicious. People are desperate and I am growing tired of living in the midst of it and not being able to do anything to dramatically change it. I know so many of you feel the same way.

I know I am living in the "third world" but until a few years ago, that was never even an issue. Although our islands were never big contenders on the world's economic landscape, I certainly never felt like a "third world" citizen and there was always a feeling of hope. Our ability to cope, innovate, commune, rally our spirits compensated for much inconvenience and social problems. We held this spirit that things could get better and we would live to see it get better. My generation especially felt like the one with the ideas, energy, will and power to make it happen.

Could it be that we are actually running out of that juice that nourished us in the face of challenges? As I struggle not to once again fall into the pit of living from paycheck to paycheck like I did in Trinidad, even while I work harder than I ever did professionally and all the while coping with the very palpable human misery all around me, I feel one overwhelming feeling....... FATIGUE. Not of body but of spirit. I understand so completely the way Trinis are right now, "to themselves" reserved, withdrawn and holding fast to personal strength. There is none to share anymore. Those of us who give, give, give, give, give and give some more of our positive energy, ideas, creative expression know what I am talking about. And yet, still I keep thinking maybe just maybe there is a very good reason for all of this. We've had it GOOD the past twenty years or so and what have we REALLY accomplished for our country with all of our BIG ideas, creative endeavors and philosophical thinking and talking over wine at our dinner parties? We who have had the comfort of a middle class upbringing and a good education are now experiencing the fear and a dose of the hard financial times of our working class and poor brothers and sisters. Like them, we now know it feels to live in fear in our own neighbourhoods. Like them we now have to decide between two or more equally necessary purchases. Nothing brings into sharp focus all the other problems than fear and swiftly approaching poverty.

The truth is that revolution requires a massive dose of desperation to ignite it. Many of us have always been the fire proof buffer of reason and status quo maintenance. We would think of protesting, of starting a revolt but then we'd chicken out because we have "responsibilities" and a "reputation". To be honest, few of us have felt it like we do now and there is a dangerous excitement about it. Let's not become afraid again. Let us embrace our rage and perhaps we can find in it the fuel we need to fire our activism against our corrupt and inept governments and disempowered societies.

Basdeo Gandhi and Patrick Mandela - A Trini Story by By Ken Chee Hing

This was so good to read, I just had to put it up on my blog. I think the author has it right on!


DOTISHNESS, like crime, is running rampant in this country these days.

Mere days after the so-called Father of the Nation, Patrick, stood before the Tunapuna masses, and without so much as blinking an eyelid declared that "crime was temporary", along comes Roodal Moonilal — who bold as brass compares the Silver Fox's incarceration at Panday's Pleasure, akin to the sufferings and sacrifices made by Nelson Mandela and Mahatma Gandhi.

What the hell have we the people done to deserve this foolishness?* What could have caused Roodal, a man I once held in high esteem as being intelligent and above party politricks to utter such piffle? I mean to say milking as much political mileage from a silly situation is one thing, but does Roodal not know his history and that it was Panday who decided to stay in jail? In the game of Trini polittricks men and women will say just about anything to score points, after all, we are a great nation of robber talkers. But one would have thought that Patrick's "temporary crime" faux pas would have caused politrickcians to be a bit more careful with what they said especially in the public domain. But I guess we were all wrong. Mooni, if the TV6 news is to be believed — and that is questionable — said Panday's eight-day incarceration at Golden Grove was a struggle against oppression and tyranny and it was similar to the struggles of Mandela and Gandhi. Give me a break!

Now, in my humble opinion, to place politicians and opposition members (even those of the silver fox persuasion) from a third world, back-a-yard country whose leaders and great minds are at best myopic and at worst plain
dotish, in the same hallowed class as Nelson Mandela and Mahatma Gandhi, is not only sacrilegious and obscene, it is looking for jail yuhself.. The world will never see the likes of a Nelson Mandela or Mahatma Gandhi again. Panday is ahead of me when it comes to learning Hindi as he was taking lessons at Golden Grove during his self-imposed incarceration. If my supremely inadequate Hindi knowledge is correct, the name Mahatma really means "Great One" or "Great Soul", which was bestowed on a humble fella named Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi, by a grateful Indian nation after Gandhi's almost single-handed brought down the mighty British Empire's rule over India. Now that is greatness! Nelson, too, had a cause. He spent 27 years of his life locked up and away in Robben Island, breaking stones with a small hammer, all because he stood firm in his belief that all men were equal under God and that Botha and white South Africa had no right to treat black South Africans like animals, denying them rights to land and even simple housing.His humble attitude and acceptance of what was a terrible fate — to be locked away from the world, from loved ones, from family and friends — caused the entire world to stand up and take notice of the atrocities of apartheid. Now that is greatness! Patrick preaching to the masses that he could raise the dead because crime was only temporary — now that is plain dotishness and not greatness. Moonilal and the other UNC players telling people their leader Panday's stay in prison was in the same class of Mahatma Gandhi and Nelson Mandela — has to be plain dotishness and not greatness on Panday's part. That is dotishness in the extreme and certainly not greatness.
Could you imagine the Silver Fox living in India at the time of the British Raj? Picture Bas turning his back on the luxury of power, doing away with his power suits and Mercedes Benz and instead opting for a humble, simple "Kapre" and walking staff as he leads the masses in a march to the sea to make salt from seawater as a mark of protest against unfair taxes and what not.Picture Oma in simple sackcloth, forsaking the high gloss nail polish and Loreal Deluxe Hair Colouring System and dark Gucci shades, opting instead for a simple Sari and sitting before a spinning wheel with which to spin thread to make Bas' clothes.Oma making sada roti and baigan choka for Mahatma Panday as he reads the Holy Gita, Holy Qur'an and visualises a land free from hate and tyranny. Do you think this could ever happen? Never! I say, the very thought of Bas in sackcloth is just preposterous. And in the words of a certain politician: "That's Insulting!"

The sweet tidings of power is, I am afraid, too great. So what nonsense isthis that people are talking about Bas walking in the same crowd as Mahatma Gandhi and Nelson Mandela? Undoubtedly, Basdeo Panday will forever stand out in the annals of Trinidad and Tobago politics, but in whose company? Certainly neither Mandela or Gandhi.
And what about dear Patrick? Could you picture Patrick living in South Africa in the days of Botha and the Apartheid? Do you think Patrick Mandela could have the heart (pacemaker included) to sacrifice 27 years of his life in lonely isoloation on Robben Island, solely in the belief that men are created equal? Picture Patrick in simple prison garb — the PNM tie thrown away — and breaking rocks in the hot sun. A vision of Patrick painting stones and pebbles is more possible especially in this CEPEP day and age. But breaking rocks like Nelson Mandela did? Nah! And while poor Patrick is incarcerated on Robben Island, his dutiful wife Winnie Hazel tends to the children and goats wondering if she will ever have the opportunity to make breakfasses for her husband again. Do you think Patrick would have done that? Sacrificed 27 years of life, not to mention the opportunity to run a country's treasury any which way he chooses? Hell no!

I mean, get real people. And Mandela and Gandhi had no choice. They were locked up. Panday on the other hand choose to go to jail. Grand charge! So you see what I mean. Politrickcians too quickly and easily like to equate
themselves with greatness and truly great people who made their mark on World History. And their supporters will go along, ranting and raving without for a moment taking to time actually listen, to hear the rubbish coming out of their leader's mouth. And as for those meddlers — the IRO — who do they think they are? In 1973, when Dr Eric Williams announced his retirement they went on bended knee to beg him to stay. This week they were back at it again rushing up to Golden Grove to beg Panday to go home. If you ask me it was the front page picture of Panday in Wednesday's Newsday looking old and beat up that scared the hell out of them and sent them rushing to his side, not even recognising that the whole episode in prison was phony. I, on the other hand, make no attempt at proclaiming myself great. I am a simple writer with a soft spot for sada roti and weird haircuts. And besides, Ken Mandela or Ken Gandhi sounds damn weird to me.