Where was the tolerance for reconciliation?

Dear Editor,

My physical constriction over the past several months forces me to resort to taxis in order to commute. More often than not the drivers are taciturn and hardly communicative.

Suddenly, however, just before, and since Nomination Day, there was a discernible effervescence in the cabs in which I travelled – from different companies. Each in turn started the conversation – all interestingly enough about politics, voting and change. One expressed regret that he was not on the nomination list.

The second emerged as a more sensitive individual. He commented on the promises all the parties were making. Some of them, he said he had heard the last time around. But he was concerned about a piece he had seen on TV – the coalition presidential candidate exclaiming one priority on his agenda would be the development of women. Of course this is not how the driver articulated it, but he quoted protection of women, and care and even love.

Then my taxi man became silent, as he unconsciously slowed his vehicle. I waited as he struggled to find expression. Suddenly turning to me alongside him, he blurted out almost incoherently: “Is Vanessa Kissoon a woman?” I stuttered for an answer, not quite comprehending where he was coming from. Then very soberly he said “Granger not only left her off the list, he left her out of the care and love, and the development of women he promised.”

It seemed such a commonsensical observation, but my belated response was cut short by arrival at my destination. We separated, exchanging expectations for the better. He left me with some questions to reflect on: the messenger’s message glaringly contradicted by one action. What did such behaviour foretell of a future style of leadership that made no accommodation for, if you will, self-expression.

Where was the tolerance for reconciliation? Would the witnesses to this well-publicised contretemps at Linden read vindictiveness into this exclusionary action, at a time when ‘unity’ was being proclaimed?

The other taxi man was young enough to concern himself about youth, like himself. He was in fact a trained mechanic who had not found responsive employment. He admitted that his own background did not permit him to relate easily to dictation, to be ‘pushed around’ by older people, particularly those who he considered in default. He had a hard time finding role models amongst those he said, who touted themselves as leaders. In his own way he saw too many contradictions – which confused him. The promises he heard being made about ‘youth’, he said, had to be realised to be believed. Yet for the time being he could only hope that the miracle will come to pass.

Whatever the contradictions, as a passenger one could not help but feel a sense of energetic anticipation that change, in whichever form, must be a prerequisite to realising dreams for the future.

As I prepared to exit my last taxi, the driver leaned across, with change in his hand, and said “You know what. I love cricket. Why they don’t nominate two teams to play a match, and stop this racial thing?”

Yours faithfully.
E B John