Indians have arrived! And how they have! No arrivederci, these Guyanese of Indian Descent. The real article, 24-carat platinum; almost 100% purity. To hear them celebrate it, Brahmins and Kshatriya, and more than a handful of those who heard firsthand from one of the Messiah’s inner circle, St Thomas, called Didymus. To hear the word, there are no low caste Indians in this country. It may be so, and not to offend anyone, but there is the sense that there are some low-class ones perched at high elevations in the national village. Calling it as I see it, folks. Recall that standard.
Imagine me, and I’m not Mariam Makeba! On Indian Arrival Day sharing in the national space, the grandson of people who couldn’t read and write. They were people who had little to their name, no haloed pedigree to recommend them. At least, none that would own them, or acknowledge their existence. Must mean that I, too, have arrived. Now that Indians have arrived in style, with energy and vitality, with wisdom and hopefully huge dollops of honor, there is a new arrival challenge for them. It is what must be looked at, and treated, as though recently arrived, with distinctive pioneering vigor. Many having listened to the voice, messages, of St Thomas (the other great books, too) must now steel their sinews to stand and be like that other great figure out of history. The one of whom so much was learned in English history books. I present Sir Thomas More, priest, man, luminous figure. He had the courage and character to stand against a bestial king, one depraved and licentious to the marrow, and refused to yield. Wrong, Royal Majesty. Conscience doesn’t allow even that one moment of compromise. Of hobnobbing with what glints as a unique revulsion. Of partnering with what desecrates the soul.
For what is a man or woman-Indian or African or Caucasian, native or foreign, lowborn or highborn-if he or she has no soul. There must be some things that must be stood against, objected to, because they damage ordinary citizens, set poor standards for the young, and dishonor those who went before. Those who paved the way to that high ground now so utterly lost in this newly arrived land.
On this Indian Arrival Day, Indians cannot pretend to be vaccinated against the horrors that prosper tribal chieftains and their circles, but degrade the rest of the race. On this Indian Arrival Day, salt-of-the-earth Indians and intellectually honest Indians, should no longer be so tolerant of the few who weigh down the many with so much heavy baggage, while they (the few) laugh at those so willing to be used. As ready pawns for the ambitions of the cunning. As low-caste assets available for low-caste dirty work, while the rich and famous enjoy the fine fruits of this land that glitters from the radiance of so many opulent gems.
Indians, just like Africans and Amerindians, can think, have eyes that see, and ears that hear. Many have projected sharp anger at the tricks being played on Guyanese of all colors, particularly the lower orders. They do so privately. Their voices and private postures would have significant influence, were they to express those publicly. Being two-faced and two-tongued (uttering one thing privately, and broadcasting the opposite publicly) will never lift the peoples of this country out of the holes that their trusted have dug for them.
Indian Arrival Day rightly embodies a burst of individual and communal pride. Even the ethnic pride that I salute. But that same ethnic pride must galvanize the thoughtful, the principled, to take a stand and assert: with this I cannot identify. With these kinds of low characters, these vulgar charlatans, these well-attired impostors, I shall have no part.
A fool’s call, maybe. Wailing in the wind, likely. But never let it be said that I didn’t do my duty. A healthy and happy Indian Arrival Day, everyone.
