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By GHK LALL
The slave plantations of centuries ago are back. All the ingredients and segments that made up a vibrant, profitable slave plantation in American and elsewhere are very present in Guyana today. The parallels are present, and they are devastating and agonizing. It is not of sugar, tobacco, or cotton, as it was centuries ago, with the drudgery of the plantations, masters from Big Houses on horseback and whips, their imported managerial class, their chained laborers. No! it is not those. Today, all of those once profitable commodities that built great fortunes in America, the United Kingdom, and wider Europe, have been replaced by Black Gold. It is oil. I live in a slave country, on a plantation enslaved by oil. It has all the human and environmental ingredients that make for such a modern-day reality, with some flourishing, while many at the bottom are reduced to begging. Or talking about rebelling; when they are left out, some start agitating, calling publicly to others to join their ranks. Amidst incredible profitability for the few, there are the many dealing with dirt poverty.
We have Guyanese with their backs bent under a brutal sun, toilers tied to their tasks, their lot that of the dreadful and pitiful, while foreign masters and their local cronies (the 21st century versions of domestic captives) feast on the plentiful from oil. Oh! Guyanese have the numbers on their side, and they gleam: richest people anywhere in the world; Guyanese are the finest statistical supermen and wonder women to be found today. Big, bad, best GDP and it is Guyanese owned. Most fabulous economy, and just look at the Guyanese people. Half of them hungry; and that is the half that can afford to buy a few fine tings at the markets. Some of them may have to trudge home with their half-filled baskets, since the minibus money went to squeeze out an extra half pound plantain. This is life on the Guyana Plantation.
According to a man named Routledge (Mistah Routledge) Guyanese are the beneficiaries of the beauty of Christian decency, Christian integrity, and Christian charity (‘this is the best contract that Guyana has ever had, when revenue streams are considered’). On behalf of my Guyanese brothers, thanks Mr. Routledge. It was the exact same mentality, other than the difference in words, that the chained, whipped, and raped Africans were inspired with on the plantations in America. Yes, the descendants of the same Americans that hold themselves out today as our benefactors and protectors. In the terms of the same creative father figures, enslaved Africans had no civilization and creature comforts in their long-darkened homeland; but on the American slave plantations, they were assured of food, shelter, and the peace of mind that they will not be attacked by their own. They had the protection of compassionate masters, as long as they toed the line and labored happily in their drudgery. Missing from the sweet narratives is that little bit about who stirred up the tribes to wage war against their own, so that the slave ships can be filled. Look at Guyanese today with daggers upraised.
Regarding the slave masters functioning as protectors, once the slaves put their noses to the grindstone, they had nothing to fear. That is, once there were no ideas about freedom from the yokes around their necks. They had security. Just like Guyanese do with the slave contract that gives us insurance inked in local blood. Today, that has proven accurate, hasn’t it? Look at Venezuela covetously eying our billions of proven reserves, but about which it can’t do one damn thing. Like I said before and say again today: it is the costliest insurance that neutralizes almost 30 million warlike neighbors, their fleet of F-4s and Phantoms and weapons that could beat us into a pulp over the long haul. Nicholas Maduro and whoever can shake and rattle sabers with anger and aggression, but they can’t roll. For that, we have our American Masters, and their 2016 slave contract, their compact that makes chattels of the Guyanese people. See! The Guyanese people are safe and happy.
We got all that, and then some more on the Guyana plantations today. There are domestic slaves (boosters, supporters, cheerleaders, collaborators), who secretly and openly sell kith, kin, country, even comrade. Any Guyanese taking a stand for economic freedom, any Guyanese rising wrathfully against the shackles of a poverty inflicting contract that condemns to bondage, risks betrayal by his own. Look at the PPP. The great majority of Guyanese are living in modern day bondage, and political leaders and their crew of sycophants-some educated, most racist, all pathologically greedy-pay homage to the interlopers and enslavers. Traitorous Guyanese get a head pat, a handshake, and a smile like some obedient, faithful pet happy to be coddled. Or kicked. They have names for the hordes of interlopers and enslavers that rush to our oil rich shores: they are called investors, operators, contractors, vendors, capacity builders, and partners. With partners like these, give me Satan. Now we have been given the world’s favorite airline, British Airways, to fly in more traders to fly out more trade billions.
More than any of the scurrying Guyanese house slaves, I understand how the slave master works. From long association, long observation, I know how his mind works. Call it by any name: capitalism, communism, or socialism, and the reality is the same: self-enrichment. They kill people like me, for their sweet dollar cherished above all things. Human carnage is collateral damage, simply secondary. The slave trade and plantation delivered human genocide. In Guyana, thanks to the PPP Government, there is this national plantation and economic genocide for many. Manage on US$5.5 a day, and be thankful. Sell carbon credits, so that the people can be cheated some more, the foreign production and profit machines can go even faster. Whip them into shape. Bend them to the line. Welcome to Guyana and its oil. It is what enchains and enslaves.
