Elections positionings are flying fast and furious; all kinds of developments are coming from every direction, and the hour is still young. One top heavy man suffered a knockout, another one stepped in unceremoniously, a whippersnapper according to some. A strategic original citizen from out yonder signaled the arrival of a new group; and a fine woman threw her bonnet (they are still around) into the ring to announce for chairwoman (ahem, chairperson) of her party. Since this already crowded field leaves no place for the likes of roustabouts like me, the only thing left for me is to sing, which I can do well. I will sing and dance by myself; call it political music while (criss) crossing the floor.
In the aftermath of that now celebrated CCJ ruling, the third term loser insists strenuously about not counting him out, and that he will have an integral part in what develops. For the first time I believe the whole truth is being told. What I heard though is that, like Jackie Wilson, there is growing resignation to the pathos of “Lonely Teardrops.” It could be even lonelier if the stars align; for these are the circumstances that prompted that tear-inducing, melancholy wail from the Bee Gees, “I started to cry which started the whole world laughing….” Count me among the laughing. This couldn’t have happened to a more deserving fellow, who summons up echoes of, “They call me Mr. Pitiful” of Otis Redding fame. Now it is time for him, to be like Chuck Jackson and suck it up by “just getting ready for the heartbreak.”
Next, there is the heartbreaker, the young chap and his now much lamented “departure.” Departure it is, and Harold Melvin & the Blue Notes captured the essence of loss and agony in, “Don’t leave me this way.” For those not thrilled by Teddy Pendergrass, there is always the fallback Motown version from Thelma Houston. That should move, if not to the dance floor in this game of pulsating Guyanese political vibrations, then at least to vote. In terms of the young man himself, as much as he might be tempted to preen and scream like Nina Simone of how good it is, “To be young, gifted and black” I urge him to proceed cautiously with the latter in these politically sensitive times as a genealogy search may be warranted, and who knows what could turn up. Instead, I strongly recommend him to imitate Jerry Butler at his begging best through the appeal to the voting Guyanese public to “let it be me.” Guyanese could come to regret the lyrics embedded in that same song through the sweetly pealing opening words, “god bless the day I found you….” Already some sour notes have surfaced: though the candidate thinks of himself as “Some kind of wonderful,” a la The Drifters, a dissenting chorus is rising.
As for the new man from that once pristinely halcyon place immortalized by the Brothers Four in the haunting “Green-fields” when they cried, “Once there were greenfields kissed by the sun….” he is going to need more than three other
brothers to close the cyanide political fissures and mercurial social passions prevalent. And not to forget from that same melody “the valleys where rivers used to run.” Those are not the same anymore with all that economic trafficking around. But I laud the man for he has the mindset of Felix Cavaliere and the Rascals in the thought that, “People got to be free.” It is time for all Guyanese to realize that indigenous brothers are just like others in that they wish to rid themselves of their political bondsmen by identifying with that same song in that, “people everywhere just wanna be free.”
Last but not least, there is the aspiring chairwoman. I think she must have heard Sam Cooke crooning, “Oh there was a woman in the Bible days…” She just might believe also that she is destiny’s child and preordained for the position; a real lady in red is this one. The problem is that particular hue would raise a cry, since it belongs to the people on the other side. These things happen seeing that it is already July and the contest is slated for August; her late candidacy is a real midnight train to Georgia (Sophia). I am of the opinion that the entrant from public health is confident enough to coo like Blondie, “I’m gonna be your number 1. You tell them, girl!