The name of Nigel Hughes is back in the air, and not for high-level lawyering on this occasion. Hughes’ hat is in the AFC ring for its leadership come the end of June. If this has a successful ending, it could signal an inspiring beginning. Well, at least when I ponder and weigh what Mr. Hughes placed on the table as his conditions. Those are some big conditions for small-minded Guyana; a big table is required. Are Guyanese capable of envisioning one first, and then constructing it?
I like, am moved, by what activist and attorney-at-law Hughes brought to the forefront of our consciousness. Guyana is in a ‘very, very precarious’ condition. He should know. I think I know, too. But do Guyanese know? And those that do know (there are some), do they care? To ask and answer, they don’t. Apparently, Nigel Hughes knows and cares, and on this crossroad, he and I have a meeting of the minds. There must be what not only appears to be new, but what is new all the way through. One of his conditions spoke of what is broad-based, with the political and civil having their roles to play.
Significant roles, and as buttressed by genuine constitutional reforms. He can be optimistic, I am a cynic, on the last score. We don’t have meaningful constitutional reform, and it is hello again to the regular treadmill. We are going nowhere. To crackle like lightning: We don’t give something to grow and get something and somewhere, then we are going nowhere. One of the raps (in the olden days well-deserved and well-received) was that I spoke in the language only the gods would understand, and that with some difficulty. Today, every effort is made to keep things so simple that even the lowly lettered can grasp the essence of what I stand for, where I am going.
The first thing to be said is that I am not going anywhere. Certainly, there are no plans to rejoin my old Uncle, the one going by the name of Sam. Not Sam Hinds, but the other one that dresses in red, white, and blue. The Golden Arrowhead is my second coming. Here I am, and here I stand. So, help me God! I hope that he is still listening to me, given the bad company that I have been keeping for close to the last decade. Some wear red, some like green. I am a blue guy myself. But I wandered.
We need a society, where every Guyanese feels, believes, that he can achieve. Because he or she belongs, has a seat at the table, and his or her little offering, no matter how small, count for something in the grand deliberations of the day. Anytime there is a one-eyed man in a one-footed country with a one-headed vision, then what results is a one-toed society. Sounds like a sloth to me crawling his way sideways on his belly and by his fingernail. The sharp-eyed should note the singular for fingernail. But that is what we have had before, and what Guyanese live with now. The here and now is of a Guyana like never before. Great expectations. Greater passions.
The greatest visions imaginable from bow to stern. If that is too much about seas and ships for landlubbers, then how about from the penthouses to the pastures to the potholed provinces, some near, some remote. We must bridge those divides beyond the political leadership speeches. Sweetening they are for sure, but they have had a way of souring and curdling all too quickly. Ever left milk outside overnight? Try it sometime but citizens must remember to hold their noses. The ole head politicians with their old politics have left Guyanese sick. Oil and politics don’t mix, is an explosive combination, especially in a society trapped at such distant poles.
Politicians have preached like Paul, and even threw in Peter to enrich things. For all their efforts, mostly that of false prophets, it is the same pitiful state that Guyanese find themselves in, over and over. I think I hear Mr. Hughes speaking the measured tones of outreach and hands outstretched to welcome in homecoming. No, I am not talking about the diaspora just yet. This is about those Guyanese who have been exiled between the boundaries of Guyana itself. Pathetic and tragic, isn’t it?
We must get there quickly to go somewhere efficiently. Somewhere broader and deeper and higher than any Guyanese has ever known, maybe even contemplated. I dare to do so. And I am more than the Man from La Mancha with his Impossible Dream. I am a child of Guyana, and I have such dreams. Still do, despite all that has cascaded, flooded, and swept upwards. I am still clinging to the roots, no matter how stumpy they are.
We can and shall overcome. I hear Nigel Hughes, a brother, a neighbour, a fellow sojourner on this road of life. There is space on this trail for many more, as many Guyanese as they are, no matter the number, including those who have to be carried. As the Hollies sang during the devastating Vietnam era in America: he ain’t heavy, he is my brother [and she is my sister, too]. A reality check is timely: Jamaican singer Jimmy Cliff said it best in song: there is a hard road to travel, and a rough-rough way to go. Nigel Hughes spoke his symphonic lines, and I have just written my interpretation of the times. Who in Guyana is listening. Who in Guyana wants a different Guyana. If it is not now, then Guyanese should prepare themselves to kiss goodbye to any new tomorrow. A bright and new tomorrow could be in a fresh dawning Guyana. It calls for sacrifice. It calls for that rarest of truths. Love of country before love of self.
