Behold, as the Christmas breeze started to kick up nuff rumpus across Jamdown, many requested overnight shipments of mink fur coats, leather jackets, winter boots and earmuffs from relatives and friends up North to ward off fresh cold. But a confluence of other happenings were also about to induce an early arrival of Father Christmas, sleigh and all. For, after many trials and snares, it came to pass that a certain woman, ousted from the House named after George William Gordon because of “national dualities”, was re-nominated on the behest of none other than Chief Priest “I sanctioned It” Golding, and could be back on her merry way to continue her dominion over her loyal subjects domiciled in and around the vast expanse of land, wood and water in North-Eastern St Ann.

For it is written, Chief Priest “I sanctioned It” Golding, having fully satisfied himself on the robust and extensive distribution of scarce benefits and spoils, decreed that the people of North East St Ann shall go to the polls today, the 20th day of December in the year of our Lord two thousand ten to re-elect “Madam National Dualities”. After all, she brings charm and beauty to the inner sanctum of parliament and is a delight to the masculine eyes. But predictably, “wha sweet to the mout’ good a bitter to de belly”, and “when you think a peace and safety a sudden destruction”. For although members of Sista P’s party got cold shoulder, having smelled the stench of defeat all the way from Drumblair, enough to cause them to crawl up inna dem shell like when pattoo see ghost, and declare “no contest”, things were about to change.

Because, then came a sudden and thunderous voice, from the deep bowels of the Black Star Liner chanting: “You may believe you are monarch of all you survey. You may believe your right here is none to dispute; from the centre all round to the sea. You may believe that your are lord of the fowl and the brute – that I will not dispute – but to me you are not the monarch of all you survey.” Those were the words from the jawbones of Garveyite, and veteran journalist, the indefatigable Devon “Boom-Boom” Evans representing the 1929 People’s Political Party.

And it came to past in the days immediately following the declaration of his candidacy when doubts abound and hilarity traded place with seriousness of thought and commitment to mission that Devon, from the tribe of Evans, declared with zestful conviction, “With confidence, we have won before we have started. If we have no confidence ourselves, we are twice defeated in the race of life. A people without the knowledge of their past history, origin and culture is like a tree without roots. God and Nature first made us what we are, and then out of our own created genius we make ourselves what we want to be. Follow always that great law. Let the sky and God be our limit and Eternity our measurement.”

When some of the people heard these expressions they marvelled unto themselves saying, “Wait, this bredda, yah serious. Talk de tings dem, mi bredda, talk de tings dem.” Yet, many jeered openly and were so overwhelmed by their own foolishness that they instantly devalued and denied Garvey’s work and mission to free them all from the clutches of “mental slavery”. The elders among them shook their heads in disbelief and declared, “Oh ye of little faith, let not the words of the Mighty Diamonds fall on your heads or on the heads of your offspring. Prove them wrong for saying: ‘Dem never love, never love, never love poor Marcus. They never love him, oh no. Them never love poor us; till they betray him. ‘Im own bredren sell him fi rice ‘n peas.'” Still, those whose faith is stronger than mustard seeds were not apt to condemn, but instead recited, “Nay, lest while ye gather up the tares, ye root up also the wheat with them. Let both grow together until the day of harvest. We may not win the elections, but we shall certainly win the moral argument and at the end of it all, we shall remain proud in our conviction in defence of what was reasonable and right.”

But while these things were happening and Christmas was about to hatch, there came a certain man who goes by the name One-Third, who is also the holder of the national thread bag. Not satisfied with the everlasting tax packages of yesteryear, like a thief in the night he drops another Nicodemus-like tax hike on drinkers of all kinds of spirits, stouts and energy drinks that even his most loyal and trusted fellow Pharisees are up in-arms. Those who recently crowned him “Man of the Year” and “Man of Excellence” must now be wondering about their own ratings, given the untidiness of this latest tax package and the irrefutable fact that the Jamdown economy has experienced 13 consecutive quarters of decline and will, no doubt, continue to do so through the second half of 2011.

For behold, the government, under the directorship of Chief Priest, and financial stewardship of One-Third, has extracted close to $80 billion through the JDX from the economy. Prior to that, it extracted about $47 billion through a raft of tax packages – packages that reduced disposable incomes, increased poverty, and are now stifling private sector expansion because consumption is low. The Bank of Jamdown just announced a decline in demand for local currency as well as in the amount of money in circulation, compared to 2009. And while plenty praises have gone up for the stability of the Jamdown dollar, this is happening because of weak demand for the greenback and strong inflows from loan receipts. It is troubling that hardly anyone is commenting on the mounting debt, at a time when One-Third continues to borrow like there is no tomorrow, but as my auntie used to say, “Fire deh a mus-mus tail ‘im tink a cool breeze”.

John Maxwell

He came, saw and made better. He was never one to recoil out of fear and never one to compromise on what he thought was reasonable or right and because of this, his legacy lives on. My sincere condolence to his wife, children, other family members and friends.

Burnscg@aol.com