Is Bazookaman Gunning for Chastanet and his Supporters?

On the heels of some egregious pronouncements from the office of the Prime Minister and by the House Speaker on TV, the violence continues to escalate.  My sore heart ached when I heard the latest calls to arms. As if to remind this grossly polarized nation of his limitless loyalty to the St. Lucia Labour Party, the Speaker, on the evening before one of our more highly anticipated House sessions, declared during a televised appearance that when it came to defending his party, he would no longer be “Mr. Nice Guy,” that “the gloves are off,” and it made no difference to him whether his critics were “giants or dwarfs”—his violent reaction would be the same. Henceforth, he would “fight fire with fire,” with “bazookas, not catapults.”   

The war cry was greeted, unsurprisingly, with shock and disgust by right-thinking citizens. Social media commentators as well as callers to certain radio shows reflected the public alarm. But there were also those who had earlier weaponized the figure of speech, “barking dogs,” spoken by Allen Chastanet at an election-time meeting. Now they sought to put lipstick on the day’s hog, perchance it might look like Kim Kardashian, not what it really was: yet another threat to “supporters of the Chastanets,” real and imagined.  

From the usual red zones, shameless “party soldiers” whose regular speech lives close to gibberish, were on the minute to be heard echoing gobbledygook about similes and metaphors and figurative language. All of that to an audience recently called “too docile” by no less a personage than the nation’s prime minister—who seems to enjoy purposefully referring to himself at every opportunity as “this little black boy from Marchand.” It seems to me that too many of us have grown too familiar with firearms. Or talk of firearms. Someone holding the office of Speaker should have the intelligence to discern when war metaphors may be appropriate, and when they might possibly be misunderstood. I would expect someone worthy of the Speaker’s chair, when tempted to resort to dangerous metaphors and euphemisms, would in the public interest always choose to err on the side of caution.

To speak of bazookas and fighting fire with fire in the same sentence suggests our present Speaker may be incapable of correctly analyzing situations, even life and death ones. Or is he so afflicted by notions of grandeur that he cannot think straight? It’s as if this Speaker with his acknowledged redied eyes sees himself as monarch of all he surveys. What Speaker who cares a damn about the appearance, at least, of impartiality would, hours before a meeting of a lopsided 15-2 House, deliver a speech such as recalled here—a speech that would be dangerously inciting if delivered from a political platform even by a no-account inebriated party hack?    

 Is it mere coincidence that in the same week the Speaker delivered his dwarfs-and-giants pre-fight trash talk, a well-known female supporter of Allen Chastanet and some of her friends were targeted by an overseas-based, notorious social media sniper? With nonsense words familiar to his mainly Labour Party-oriented audience, the avowed Philip J. Pierre apostle and self-proclaimed comedian was understood by many to be suggesting the Chastanet supporter be abducted and repeatedly raped and dumped in the sea, should she carry out her advertised plan to lead an anti-SLP protest demonstration in Castries. While there has been some push-back at home and via social media, the incumbent party, churches and women’s groups are stuck on mute. Again, the alleged speaker in tongues has sought refuge behind a flimsy barricade of childish excuses, back-alley humor and euphemisms associated with red-light district activity.

Perhaps coincidentally, mere hours after the Speaker issued his on-air bazooka threat, an upstanding, hard-working young Forestierre man was felled by a hail of bullets. His shattered and weeping mother, a public servant, was featured on the news. As I write there is word about still another fatal shooting—the 53^rd for 2022. Also, a report that customs officials have discovered in a refrigerator weapons of the kind used by soldiers on the battlefields of Afghanistan and Iraq!  

I am not among the concerned citizens calling for the resignation of “Bazooka Man!” For while I may believe in miracles, there are limits to my naivete. Not so long ago, he presented himself as a quite shaken target of death threats. The story received much media attention. The Labour Party held a special public meeting on his behalf and wrote complaining letters to the day’s prime minister, Stephenson King—even though the police claimed the complainant had exaggerated the situation. But not a word from him about the woman threatened with rape. Neither from the publicity hounds that had publicly welcomed the recent enactment of the Domestic Violence Bill. Have they been silenced by a red gag? Meanwhile, the imminent sitting of the House Privileges Committee in judgment of Allen Chastanet is the city’s hottest ticket. The Speaker, presumably with “all the weapons at [his] disposal,” will chair the hearing. The 5-member panel will also include Richard Frederick and Ernest Hilaire.

If you’ll excuse my language, reader dearest, there’s a (I cannot find a more delicate euphemism!) shitstorm coming. In Haiti, armed gangs have joined forces and are together challenging their government for what they perceive as injustices, shortages of food and other basic needs, and corrupt politicians. The behavior that some of our own officials blatantly flaunt in our faces leaves much to be desired. Indeed, it is at times difficult to discern the lawmakers from the lawbreakers. They use the same phrases and demonstrate similar traits. This cannot go on much longer. Already the consequences of tolerating this situation are rattling our doors: a total lack of respect for life and property, open demonstrations of hooliganism in the presence our only security force, armed security guards at public events, as well as attacks on everything we once considered civilized!  

Be reminded: Pardie Pooper is not my real name. It’s all the protection I have against an atmosphere that minute by minute is becoming more dangerous for those with the courage to speak out against the evils that seem to have taken control of our country!