Was There Ever A Time When We Did Not Have A Hospital Problem?

[dropcap]T[/dropcap]he leader of the House opposition was off-island, reportedly attending to urgent family health problems. But even if he had been in St. Lucia last Sunday afternoon, chances are he would not have participated in the health minister Mr. Romanus Lansiquot’s “Walk for Victoria” event. This is St. Lucia, after all, where it’s customary for the opposition party to absent itself from government-sponsored activities, even when invited to attend. It should also be noted that only two of Mr. Lansiquot’s Cabinet colleagues showed up at the heavily advertised show  in William Peter Boulevard: Mr. Allan Bousquet and the nation’s prime minister, Mr. John Compton—who was slated to receive from Mr. Lansiquot a check for one million dollars—a year’s worth of contributions to the health minister’s earlier mentioned Walk for Victoria fund.

Mr. John Bristol was also on hand. The popular consensus was his presence had less to do with his support for the health minister’s efforts than with his own job as the prime minister’s personal assistant. In the course of the afternoon there would be vague references to “the missing Cabinet” that did not credibly account for the absence of MPs Louis George, George Mallet, Desmond Brathwaite, Ferdinand Henry, Gregory Avril or Desmond Fostin. In the interests of journalistic accuracy, perhaps I should also mention that Mr. Lansiquot later assured me that the last-mentioned MP had dropped by “for a few minutes to pay his respects.” Obviously, Mr. Fostin’s arrival and departure had been too quick for my eyes. There was no shortage of excuses from the hundreds of somewhat embarrassed UWP apostles in the boulevard for the absence of their MPs on Mr. Lansiquot’s big day: Mallet had a hip problem; Fostin was occupied with a Soufriere project (clearly I wasn’t the only one not to have caught sight of him), while Brathwaite was “busy removing floating objects from his swimming pool”—this last offering from a well-known Labour supporter sarcastically referencing a recent unexplained drowning at the MPs residence. Conspicuously absent without explanation were Messrs Henry Giraudy, the UWP chairman, and Hollis Bristol.

As it turned out, the absentees did the health a minister a favor: the spotlight they would’ve attracted to themselves remained on Romanus Lansiquot, whose smile never deserted him throughout the afternoon. Meanwhile, the prime minister seemed to be having the time of his life hugging every skirt wearer within reach. From his perch on a makeshift stage the prime minister uncharacteristically joked with attendant press personnel and posed with his arms around several of all shapes and sizes ladies for the excitement of the more prurient photographers.

When a particularly attractive woman in short-shorts requested that the prime minister “put something in Victoria’s box” he said he had no money and offered to contribute his “car key if that’s acceptable.” A suspiciously cheery man offered to lend him some cash if the prime minister promised to repay him later—at which point John Bristol handed his boss a fistful of dollars in the name of Victoria.

Lansiquot had good reason to strut. Many had dismissed his fundraising campaign on behalf of the decrepit hospital as Sysiphean. But his several publicized walks in all parts of the island had not only proved financially fruitful but also had presented opportunities to meet and greet admirers and to convert detractors throughout the constituencies. Who knew where this could lead? In William Peter Boulevard on Sunday not even the revered John Compton was more highly regarded. It seemed the large turnout was ready to applaud ever breath Lansiquot took, to the famously press savvy MP’s obvious delight.

As for the prime minister, he seemed for a change to be in a mood to party, a fact that couldn’t have been more obvious when the Tru Tones hit the first notes of Vader’s “Walk and Wine.” Then again, one could not say for certain which provided the greater thrill, the hit song or the girl-singer’s spectacular gyrations. Our prime minister has never permitted popular perceptions to interfere with his natural inclinations! To be fair, he demonstrated similar enthusiasm for the performances of the Les Enfants dance troupe, comprising ladies just ten to twelve years old. Some Victoria Hospital nurses performed a skit centered on a day at the wards and had the crowd in stitches!

And then came the moment all had been waiting for, none with greater anticipation than the MP in the spotlight, Mr. Romanus Lansiquot. He approached the microphone beaming from ear to there, clearly basking in the unabashed adulation: congratulatory shouts, madhouse shrieks, whistles, booze-fueled exuberance. For seemingly an eternity he revisited his entry into politics (while sounding as if he’d been born into it), the cost of caring for the nation’s health—mentally and otherwise; the proliferation of illegal drugs, the breakdown of discipline in our schools. He revealed, to a thunder of oh-nos and other sounds of shock and regret, that since starting his anti-drugs campaign he had received several death threats that until last Sunday he had kept to himself. Nevertheless, he vowed to carry on, regardless.

“But don’t leave this fight exclusively to the government,” he cautioned. “This fight concerns all of us. What’s at stake is our country!” He climaxed with his presentation to the prime minister of the million-dollar-check he said represented “the people’s contribution to better healthcare in our country.” Some of them had insisted on handing over, despite his reluctance to accept, their last fifty cents, Lansiquot informed the gathering. More applause, especially when the health minister’s permanent secretary announced there were still more pledged checks to come.

The prime minister, for his part, promised the gathering (now they had evidently put their money where their mouths were) that he would move heaven and hell to “get the $45 million or so for a new hospital.” He was also abruptly in a position “to prove to the world we are willing to help ourselves.” He neglected to explain the notable absentees but pointedly observed that “while Victoria Hospital cannot deliver the country’s health needs, an average of sixteen babies are delivered there daily.” He seemed also to say that in the near future St. Lucia would have, not only a refurbished Victoria Hospital, but also an altogether new facility paid for with the millions he now expected to collect from “impressed parties abroad!”

As I say, the mood was in harmony with the beautiful weather and it would’ve been a crying shame had the prime minister rained even a little on his jubilant health minister’s parade by citing reality. That Mr. Lansiquot’s singular efforts had not gone altogether unappreciated was good enough reason for celebration—with the Tru Tones encouraging one and all to walk and wine, regardless!

Editor’s Note: The preceding first appeared in the STAR of June 1988.