Mr. Speakah, Sah, a Word in Your Ear if you Please!

Halleluiah! We note The Whisper newspaper has rediscovered its voice. Hopefully it won’t soon again be lost. Truly, even its presence is vital where cluelessness abounds.  So, one must ask: was it a case of laryngitis or pharyngitis? It wasn’t simply dysphonia, was it?  No, it wasn’t. Let’s be candid: for quite some time now it appeared to have been afflicted with full-blown aphonia.

And, what of its oft heavy-hitting counterpart? Surely you know the one: that gleaming STAR in the West. True, its creator has newly decided to either delight us, or perhaps force us, to look back in anger with his calculated recollections—wherein lie undeniable proof of the mediocrity that passes for leadership, as well as indisputable evidence that we are stuck in reverse. 

But he, too, has steered clear of the Squeak and his murinae (nice word, dear reader, please look it up!). We can’t say we weren’t well warned from mawning: “He’s my friend. We go back a long way. He’s a good man.”  I proffer this: history is replete with good men—and women—gone bad. Or not so good. Or ill suited for the job! Let us also remind ourselves that “good” is relative, and resides in the eye of the beholder.  

Well now, what do you think, dear reader?  Have things got serious enough yet for duh people—you know, duh ones of vanguard fame—to be championed by the aforementioned defenders of longstanding? Or should they be left to the purveyors of confusion: the ever-burgeoning Fifth Estate of our day?  I trust I have even now persuaded the former to come forward and fully play their part as expected: as authoritative, enlightened citizens.

Otherwise, where are the “youff” throughout the island to look—their families aside, even where able—for inspiration, for argument, for analysis, for honesty and credibility in discourse, for enhancement of their official language?  (Our official language still is English, right?) Let’s just say it loud and clear: certainly not in the people’s House. God forbid!  For one thing, the grammar and pronunciation (not pronounciation, as commonly pronounced). And while we’re at it, it’s whether, not wedder; birthdays, not birfdays; another, not anudder.  Oh, will someone please alert the House Speaker that it’s “the Westminster model,” not Westminister?   For what it’s worf, pardon me, for what it’s worth, it should be kept in mind our parliamentary meetings are actually followed by interested Saint Lucians and their English-speaking friends in the diaspora. Not diaspoorer. 

As I continue with what appears to be leading me into an, until now, externally suppressed stream of consciousness, let me admit that I simply cannot wrap my head around the fact that St Lucians—schooled, unschooled, educated, uneducated (there’s a great difference, you know!)—freely and fairly chose the path they did six months ago. They rejected a servant-leader with a clear, transparent vision, with a positive international profile, with a pleasing countenance and demeanour, with demonstrated intelligence, a deep understanding of how the economy works and impressive communication skills. I am not an “up-north” person, so I travel there only when I must.  But each time I have done so within the last five months, and seen what was to have been, and what would by now have been as regards the well-thought-out road projects, I ask myself how anyone, let alone the many and varied (one would have thought) constituents of Gros-Islet could have voted on the one hand against an obvious improvement which even to the untrained eye must surely make great good sense from whichever angle viewed; and on the other hand for the wholly and superficially simplistic “people can’t eat roads” premise, unless of course it was trumped by the $1500 instantly gratifying (as yet unfulfilled) promise for both the haves and have-nots; or by the illogical confessions  of a hypocritical, self-serving deserter; or by a newfound appreciation for both currently unpunished and already punished criminality in the corridors of power—not forgetting the performing poulbwa that emerged one by one and two by two in grave-like, last-minute appearances, in hindsight  portending Helen’s current state of interment.

Most of all, in the same vein, there is something that continues to haunt the thinking minority: the pre-election, unabashed, but more particularly, uninformed (here paraphrased) following declaration by a local former tourism boss: “I never knew how important tourism is to this island, how many people, how many families it touches . . . I never knew.”  Until COVID! That former tourism boss was, wait for it, rewarded with the crown of Head Honcho of this 238 sq mile bit of God’s green earth. Would you credit it?  Would you? I say, it absolutely boggles the mind. But you did it. Yes, you did! I also say that all of the promising programmes and projects, both started and intended, before 26 July 2021 will be gratefully continued by the present two-faced majority in duh people’s House, even as they twist and turn and shift and squirm and persuade the flat-earth believers that it was they who conceived the projects.     

But where did I begin? Oh yes, with the people’s traditional mouthpiece, the trusted media, to whom the citizens, politically literate and illiterate, look for informed opinion and explanation of current events according to the current climate, as well as through an historical lens. This is what the faithful following expect of you. This is not my job. Besides, I do not enjoy it!