Dear Editor,
Amidst the clashing swirls of words, there is this disinterested watching of the high stakes political drama unfolding. Bluff and counterbluff have become the order of the day; in local lingo: who gat mo belly. It is the stuff of shallow brinksmanship and resolute miscalculation. Where does it all lead? Does it really matter? What, if anything, will change?
The fault line could be anything – or everything – in a simmering stew of sharp resentments: local government elections, money laundering legislation, budget cuts, among other things. It could be the absence of absolute power, or the lack of measurable movement in any direction, to anyone’s satisfaction. But here a nation caught, once again, in the dismal perilous middle observes the flexing of muscles, the gathering resolve, and this inevitable continuing escalating of tension. The simmering stew has a valve at the top of its housing; it can only absorb so much pressure. Who gat mo belly…?
From the elevations of Parliament House and State House, the confluence of circumstances, and the confidence in timing may appear to be acceptable to both discontented sides. But beyond the strategic calculation at self-contented heights, there is the reality of the watching roiled street. As I have stated for a long time, and many times, the peace of the street is phony. Palpably so. It waits, maybe yearns, for a flicker from somewhere. Anywhere. It could very likely flow from the granite-like pronouncements and stances of the political principals. Since none is prepared to compromise toward consensus, then invariably confrontation must follow. And follow it will, as the current state of impasse is unsatisfactory and undesirable at every level and in every corner. I believe it is only a matter of time before the clock is turned back, and Guyanese revert to what they know – even embrace – from the last century. Now the politics in parliament threatens to overflow to a street waiting to respond. It is predicted to be raw, unchecked, and telling. There was an inching, then creeping, now rushing to this fateful plain. If not tomorrow, then the day after. Something has to give. The question is who and what. The hours ripen with the stench of promise.
Does it change anything? Perhaps for some members of the political gambling fraternity, but then what? Does any of this overhaul and recalibrate existing mindset and vision? Can we dare to hope not to be a better people, but for a different place? I will settle for a different place, as I believe being a better people might be just too elusive. One way or another, bleak, gritty days are ahead and waiting for expression. Such expression could encompass both the calculation of expected consequences, as well as the law of unintended ones, too.
Yours faithfully,
GHK Lall
