Month of the hammer

Have I really made a difference? Do I make a difference? These days I’m not so sure what I do. Do you?

I started writing this on Wednesday; almost 11 pm, but still Wednesday. I’m perhaps in the place where most of my real thinking; my deepest reflection occurs.

Should I be telling you this? Is it too personal? Perhaps telling is a bit of a risk? I don’t really think so; all I’m doing is giving my thoughts to you for a bit of entertainment but more so for perusal.

You know how some months just get taken over by the events which take place? (Like December will always be defined by mad, crazy shopping?) Well January 2011 seems to be the month of the hammer. BLAM! And then it was BLAM! BLAM! BOOM! SMASH! This has been the music in GT to date. I couldn’t even hear the tap of my stilettos! Imagine that! This has been the madness of late.

Earlier Wednesday I was at the Stabroek Market with some nomadic sellers of hats. And I’m sure most of you know that GT sun is usually hot, hot, hot! Heat stilettos and tramping around the city isn’t the best recipe when you’re hunting news. But which sensible journalist would fail to wear sensible shoes?

It’s Thursday morning. There’s sunshine in GT today. It’s Thursday evening. Oh what a day! BANG! BANG! SMASH! BLAM! This was the rhythm in GT again. The only good thing was when it rained.

I’m still trying to get over this nightmare I had. I was in my stilettos and running from hammers, bulldozers and weird men with spades. It was bad, bad, bad! I was beginning to think, in my dream of course, that I was going mad. And the many bad smells of GT, they seem to be scars in my memory which never want to fade.

Tonight if I dream of more of what I’ve been working on lately I’m not sure what I’ll do. Maybe the BLAM! BLAM! BOOM! SMASH! is getting to me. Do you think so? Or is it that I’m being a wailing, annoying, cry baby?

Will Friday bring more of the BANG! BANG! SMASH! BLAM! I’m hoping not. I’ve thankfully not grown used to it. I’m already tired of this month of hammering.

Cook shops, barbershops, toilets, rum and ganja outlets – all hammered. BLAM! Some vendors’ hopes; some junkies’ dreams; BANG! BANG! SMASH! BLAM! The truth? hammered and bulldozed into infinity.

I’ve been thinking. Perhaps if I really want to make a difference, maybe the BOOM, BANG, SMASH operation would not be such a bad idea. Perhaps we should all take hammers and just go mad! BLAM! (srh.midnight@gmail.com)