There is still hope

Dear Editor,

Is it constructive, soul nourishing to harbour hope, no matter how fragile, that the geographical slice named Guyana can somehow, someday grow into a nation, a real nation?  Or is it wiser, and more grounded in the pragmatic, to believe and believe strongly that this kaleidoscope of hostile sluggish tribes will remain in the same sorry sickening state, as has always been known?

I do not know why (or why I even bother) but I must align with hope, regardless how minute such may be, or how it diminishes and pales, and that things can be better and do not have to be the only way lived so far.  I must dig deep, where not much is left, and care enough to continue to hope against all the odds, and the portents that indicate differently.

Today, I will take an uncharacteristic route and name names.  I have no confidence in Mr Jagdeo.  I believe that he is wrong for this place, as constituted, and all of its peoples, including many of his own kind.  There is not an iota of trust that I would deposit against his name.  This is from instinct and from reality observed and probed.  This leader is not only wrong for here, he is bad for it.

On the other hand, the new president has my goodwill, my wishes, and my prayers.  I sense that many across the abyss grant him the same, if not more.  He campaigned on a theme of ‘One love!’ and he tabled social cohesion in full view of the nation.  I wait to see him take this to another level, and then even higher.  I desire to see him succeed and carry all citizens along with him.

Yet, even as I write, I am reminded of a few practicalities.  It is that Mr Granger is 70 years old; I would be surprised if he stays beyond his first term, all things weighed and measured.  If so, then what?  Then who?  Then where to?

A second element of awareness is the distaste and resistance that are sure to exist within his own political family to early, aggressive, and sustained thrusts into the world of social cohesion.  It is because such actions would necessitate the sharing of already limited spoils and spoken for pie.  This breeds insecurity and discontent best manifested in the unarticulated stoicism of invisible near incurable intransigence.  It is the only thing known and follows from a lifetime of conditioning, coloured visions, and specific expectations.  There is no overcoming this poison in the blood, this paralysis of the spirit.  But this is only one side of the equation, the internal one.  The sentiment is: No way Jose!  David Arthur –think again; start over; try something else.

It is this identical self-inflicted paralysis of the spirit and cancer in the gut that freezes and imprisons the competition, the other side of the political chasm.  Here, too, there is little or no interest in sharing, in blending, in even trying.  Almost all want everything for their group, their own circle, and sometimes the extended tribe.  Everyone publicly clamours for justice and peace and equity, but privately none is prepared to commit to what is required to make this possible.  Many citizens, ostensibly concerned, delude themselves with ongoing falsities, and casual convenient contradictions; it is where reasoned states and logical progression are cheapened by steep discounts.  There are no divisions on these scores.

Editor, whether African or Indian, this is the parallel thinking, the parallel vision, the parallel reality.  And, so the haphazard, conflicting, competing journey, if it can be so labelled, is perpetuated.  Meandering may be more appropriate than journey.  It has been written right here and said many times before that a house divided against itself will fall.  That timeless morsel of wisdom reveals to even the densest in the midst that this nation is not standing; that it is bent crooked by the crippling burden of a stunted stunting growth.

I look around and behold that the new government has many vocal defenders nowadays; they were conspicuously silent the last twenty years.  In the next instance, supporters of the new opposition imitate the once old one by their strident, but porous, denials of perversities inflicted.  Where is the evidence?  Well, there it is and it can neither be diluted nor muffled.  The rocky soil abounds.

Editor, it is why, when I ponder the realities on the ground, especially what is politically convenient and palatable, that I express with conviction that this nation is not a nation; it is a caricature of one, unready for the political liberalism that is conducive to social egalitarianism.  It is simply not ready for the obligations and sacrifices of nationhood today in 2016.  At this rate, and given the environment and atmospherics, it may not be ready for a long time to come.

At best, it is a quilt work torn at the peripherals weak at the seams, and decayed at the core.  In view of the ethnic dynamics, this society flails for any sort of temporary make-believe traction; none is found.  In fact, it is now accurate to state that the majors do not try at all, and are only bent on dominance by themselves, at the expense of all others.  So then, Guyana languishes as a sward for the sullen; a land of the lost and losing and low mentalities; and of a nation that is largely an apparition.

Though I see no end in sight, I still hope.  I truly don’t know why or for how much longer.  All I know is that it is all I have, and that I stay with the challenge and thinking embraced.  Some of this might incur ridicule.  And it might even be ahead of the time, which is of little consolation and even less relevance.

Yours faithfully,

GHK Lall