You rather not know us. For we speaketh not Shakespeare. We speaketh not Dickens. We speaketh not Rowling. We speaketh not Orwell. We speak us. The vernacular you scorn. Do you care about us? Can you look at us? So I thought. You never do. You care not. For one of those am I. One of your forgotten. One of your downtrodden. One of your ignored. One of your nobody. But you do know us. You should know us. At us you came. Empty promises you brought. Pipe dreams you sold. Why do this to us? Why do this to mom? Our mom. She is our angel. She is our shero. She is special. She is caring. She is brilliant. She is our father. Our teacher. Our doctor. Our psychologist. Our storyteller. Our Economist. Our accountant. Our lawyer. A security. Minimum wage she pockets. Minimum wage she budgets.
Covid-19
Then it came. Uninvited to entry. Uninterested in exit. Closer to home. Blinded our eyes. Yet painful it was. Agonisingly painful. For in hospital she walked. But out was carried. Visitation denied us. Before she died. After she died. We died. We all died. Then the interment. Denied we were. No goodbyes. No hugs. No loves. Painful. Very painful. But more pains await our hearts. Those suited criminals. Visited us with hell. Agonising. For they saw granny. My granny. As just a statistic. Death 102. Not a person. Dehumanised. And those suited criminals. Indentured voters made of us. Pittance for our inked index finger. Then forgotten we were. Our reminder. Our abuse. And those suited criminals. Despise. We do despise. We really despise. Why put us through hell? Why have our futures in your fiery furnace? Haven’t our young hearts pained enough? Isn’t one year enough? Isn’t that enough? Why seal our schools? Like Noah’s arc. One year. Twelve months. Without schooling. You speak of online schooling. But that’s online. We are not. For internet was denied us. You speak of televised schooling. But television was denied us. Minimum wage. Minimum options. Paper schooling occasionally tantalise our brains. But minimum they are. Surely not a week’s learning. Surely not a day’s. But our hunger for knowledge. Devours it in minutes.
The PPP/C
Our mom’s heart is lacerated. She beseeched the school to welcome her two. But denied she was. For what visited her visual fields. Teared her eyes. PPP reopened rum shops. PPP reopened Strip clubs. PPP reopened bars. PPP reopened short time brothels. PPP reopened hotels. PPP reopened clubs. PPP reopened stores. PPP reopened ports. PPP reopened airports. PPP reopened malls. PPP reopened movie theatres. PPP reopened restaurants. PPP closed our futures. PPP reopened everywhere but schools. It’s a year. A year and counting. Since an education was denied us. What bad have we done? What have we done so bad? Why your noose around our necks? Handcuffs on our wrists? Shackles on our ankles? What ever happened to your no child left behind? The affluent child our guess. For our community is forgotten. But dreams I do have. Dreams we all have. For my mother I promised. Our mothers we promised. That a doctor it will be. A doctor my promise. A doctor like her. A lawyer my brother’s pledge. A lawyer like him. The mirror his reflector. Everyday. Every second of the day. Simulating a defence lawyer. Defending the poor. The forgotten. The discarded. Society’s scums. Why are you stealing our dreams? Why? Why? Have you not seen the statistics of our likely outcome?
Tied our hands
Hopeless we are. Despair. Dejected. Despondent. Disconsolate. No society wants us. All societies rejected us. Nomads. And again. Once again. Depression visits. Our friends a distant memory. Sad! Our tears run dry. Our schools shut tight. Our teaching bared. But crying is of the past. Way past tears. Way pass PPP. They have rewarded the wealthy. The business wealthy. The super wealthy. Who live in mansions. Chauffeured in expensive SUVs. But we have been discarded. They closed our schools.They have tied our hands. You have tied our hands. Now what am I going to be? Surely not a doctor. Surely not a lawyer. Are your security guns readied? Ready for us. Even though you created us. Tell me. Just tell me. What have we done so bad? What is our destiny? You set us up to fail.
We want universities. We want doctors. We want lawyers. We want teachers. We want nurses. We want accountants. We want Economist. We want engineers. You offering us prison. Front page on your Kaieteurnews. Dead bodies. Our bodies. Shot dead by your police. Our deaths celebrated by your people. PPP-you’ve tied our hands. PPP-you’ve tied our feet. PPP-you’ve blindfolded us. What do you expect us to see? But see we do. We see a dark future. We see many like us. In our communities. Education system failures. We see the streets. The cops. Murderers. Ready to eradicate us. The system. Your system. Created us. Rejected us. We see harassments. Police harassment. For they visit us. Visit us when the wealthy. Place accountability on us. Even if innocent. We see non-options. Our lives flashing in front of our very eyes. Run and death at the end of an AK47. Submit to. Our beatings. Our brutal beatings. Our confession beatings. No confessions. Bruised. Released. We see the new charges. The unjustified warrants. Oppressive bails. No bail. We see the fightings. We experience it. The shank stabbings. The pullings of crime. The grabbings of anger. The burnings of frustration. The riots against the system. Ten year in the box. Solitary. Twenty three in. One out. Alone. We see the dark. Our mind. Our companion. Until we lose it. And in our despair. We beg to know. We beg to know why the streets. The cruel streets. Had taken us? So tell us. What have we done so bad? PPP-what have we done so bad? Is this what you wish for us?
Give us a better way
Covid has opened our eyes. Opened our eyes to the education disparity. Rich. Poor. The rich who voted for this illegitimate Government. I challenge you. Look at our shoes. Would you wear those? Look at our ragged clothes. Have you ever seen those? Now step out of your lofty mansions. Look into our shacks. Would you dwell in those? Now our dinners. Would your dogs eat those? Can you see our boarded beds? Would your head ever rest on those? And our schools. Look at the doors? Tell us how you feel? How do you feel that they are sealed? For they are our only route from poverty. Our only escalator. Up the social ladder. Our only rescue hoist. Out of the drowning waters of poverty. Our only light. Guiding us out of the abyss of criminality. One year but you don’t care. But this we tell you. Our struggles. You can ignore. But in years to come. Yes in years to come. At your mansions. We will be. At your doors. We will be. In your castles. We will be. With face-coverings. Not Covid related. Give us a better way. Give us our education.
