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By GHK Lall- Many Guyanese looked northward, as they harbored ambitions towards their Americanization. Many who have never set a foot an inch past Timehri are already more American than the Americans themselves. The efforts of culturally and racially deficient Guyanese have been given a tremendous boost since the discovery of oil here. Locals do not have to follow the late Dave Martins route to Detroit City or New York City anymore. The Americans come to Guyana by the droves. I call them hordes.
The big shots in the slavish PPP Government embrace them as investors. Gone are those crippling fears that were the worst PPP nightmares, viz., of CIA operators under every rock and incarnation, with some using the new disguise of investors. I have a more realistic label for those investors: they are exploiters.
When they take advantage of the Guyanese people’s naivete to rip and strip them of their treasure, with just returns, I see them as invaders and gougers, the worst of capitalism’s predators. I urge my fellow citizens to cast a wide circle and to ask themselves, which Americans fall into all the categories identified, and ascertain for themselves if the name Exxon doesn’t come up all the time.
Because of oil and Exxon, the Americanization of Guyanese is in full swing. There is Burger King and Pizza Hut and KFC, and with such iconic Americana present in Guyana, one could be forgiven for thinking that Georgetown is a converted strip mall, or some Main Street collection of names and cuisine American. In the non-gastronomic department, there is Schlumberger, the CIA, and all those bemedaled uniformed types that speak of the Great American Way that is more and more the new Guyanese Way.
Ever notice how one Vice President speaks these days? His choice of words, the substance of them, the rewarding games embedded in them. Recall how dozens of men and women in the PPP Government publicly stripped themselves naked in parliament to show their American credentials, their red, white, and blue underwear. National sovereignty went its beaten way without so much as a whimper. The probability of a catastrophic offshore oil spill is unimaginable, not quantifiable. America had its John Wayne. Guyana has its many Benedict Arnolds.
In the continuing Americanisation of Guyana, there is American Airlines that carry and bring its human cargoes here. Business is good, but for whom? The gas money making man, former Exxon hidden hand, Jesus Bronchalo, is a good reference to answer that question about how good business is, and for whom. He has local company to participate in his good gas fortune.
Considering this swarm of presences and people, it is now obvious that only the tender ministrations of the Voice of America are now missing. To make sure all are on the same page, this is what makes me tick: When they come with the best of intentions for my fellow Guyanese (my own people, if I may) then they are among my best friends, my jolliest socializing buddies.
On the other hand, when the marauding and swaggering bands of Yankees (and Confederates) harbor no such priorities uppermost, then there is greater urgency for these writings to multiply, the multivitamins to be shared far and near. I may be the lone voice crying in the wilderness. But begad! It will be for the voiceless and powerless in Guyana, regardless of what happened to John the Baptist, and others who charted a similar course. Now a timely to look at a few of the leading Americans should help Guyanese gauge what all this means, where they’re left standing.
There was the busier-than-an-active-beehive Excellency Sarah Ann Lynch, who moved stone and quarry, so that Guyanese could get a taste of American style democracy. She was all about free and fair, but hoarseness took over when the same was to be applied to Exxon. Excellency Lynch was the energy barbie; her successor seems to have been ordered to deal in speechless diplomacy. The former was about brainwashing, the newcomer about washing her hands of Guyana’s sticky political stains.
Integrity. Inequity. Inclusivity. My term for Ambassador Nicole D. Theriot is the Quiet American: less Nancy Pelosi (or Hilary), more Laura Bush and Martha Stewart. From America’s women Guyanese get different flavors as locals are soothed and put to sleep. They wake up sounding like Good Morning America, or Fox and Friends.
The American men are a study in how to get Guyanese to let down their guard, think American, believe that they are Americans. The kind that are not seen and dare not speak. For proof, there is Vickram Bharrat and Bhar-rat Jagdeo in that same order. John Hess is Mr. Talkative, an ally of Excellency Ali, moonlighting as a revealer of great truths: oil democracy on the move. Guarantee re decisions of the judiciary. Plenty money for the Hess family; more for the Chevron group. The American oilmen are looking out for Guyana, which is part of the indoctrination.
Enter Grand Duke Alistair Routledge, Exxon propagandist, a billboard artist, peerless company nudist. He strips Guyana bare, while pretending to be an oilman who cares. About what and for whose pockets? Guyanese went from talkative Hess to defensive Routledge (unmatched revenues) to combative Routledge (no to renegotiation). With Trump in the White House, talk about renegotiation just went into a coma. Incidentally, Mr. Routledge (no to renegotiation) sounds like a superpower, doesn’t he?
Poor Dr. Mohamed Irfaan, the white brother gave him a glance (not a glare) and he blubbered about “superpower.” Why not consult with the Chinese and Saudis, the brotherhood that has good visions for Guyanese. It is how to make them dotish and foolish. Those resisting oil corruption are better off as casualties.
Look at what America did to Iran for its oil, made the Shah do. There’s a lesson there about the limits of Americanisation. Guyanese had better learn. They don’t, and they will all start sounding like Donald Trump, maybe even thinking that their outhouse is the White House.
