A DAY IN JA can be longer than a week elsewhere. Somehow, we seem to have the capacity to create more drama in our everyday lives than others manage to generate in a whole year, don’t it? We do it our way.

SATURDAY: The day dawned bright and clear. The big question is, would the sun keep shining? After all, this was supposed to be the day when it would be all over. The faithful were to be swept up into the sky and go off to a better place leaving the rogues and rascals to bargain with Satan. The humming birds, which spend time in the bush outside my window, came out early to have breakfast.

Mister Tux, my faithful but eccentric hound, turned up earlier than usual for his morning slice of bread, refreshment after a night on the prowl, in search of love. Usually, he suffers a bruise or two inflicted by much younger rivals. Today, however, he was pretty dapper, his black coat with the white underside making him look more formally dressed than ever. He collected his snack and retreated to his favourite spot to dream of nights when he too was young, when the ladies succumbed more easily and young dogs knew their place. (At least, I think that is what he was thinking.)

By now, it was time to go take on the supermarket and wrestle with rising blood pressure as the prices ascend higher and higher at the cash register. Despite the promise of time supposed to be cut short, the prices remained high and the afternoon continued without incident. Other chores were accomplished and we were still around.

There was no breaking news of any move Heavenward. The jokers were texting the latest offering from the cyber addicts. St Peter, it was said, had sent a message to say that he didn’t want to see any of us wicked JA people up at his place. Person or persons unknown from Down Here had come Up There already and had made off with the pearly gates which, even as we spoke, were now being sold as scrap metal. Some of us should apply for visas to the other place, but not in Heaven.

So, the day came and went. The promised trip over the rainbow did not materialise. Plenty people “kiss teet” and proclaimed they knew it was “chupidness” all along. Some were eager for a face to face with the “false prophets” to tell them just how they really felt about them. Maybe next time…

SUNDAY: Church. Sermon text: “In my Father’s house there are many rooms.” Okay. At the rate we’re going, how many of us will qualify for even one night’s lodging?

MONDAY: Feeble attempt at Labour Day. How could an idea which once drew hundreds to work with love for the good of the community just fizzle out so? What will it take to ignite the passion again?

TUESDAY: Rumbling growing louder that a big piecea news would “buss!” Mid-afternoon…news flash…Minister of Government loses US visa. No reason given. Speculation runs high. The minister’s identity is revealed. He resigns. Will the reason be Wiki-leaked? News-carrying has been globalised.

TALK OF THE TOWN… When did our politics get so dull, so cheesy? Cynicism runs deep so we may never recover. Our politicians are falling lower and lower into the pit of public contempt under the same heading, “No better herring, no better barrel”. With all the bravado, the numerous press releases, the huge publicity budgets and the over-confident quotes, the audience is more and more alienated. “Wi done wid politics.” Some say youth will save the day, but like their elders, they too are demonstrating that they lack the spark. So what now?

WEDNESDAY: I decide to look outward and so spent a chunk of the morning watching BBC TV where the Brits broke out the pomp and ceremony to greet the Obamas of Washington DC. Imagine how the Republicans back home must have been in a froth of frustration that the man they’re dying to chuck out of the White House was being treated with respect elsewhere. After all that they’ve been doing to belittle him, only to see Royalty hanging on his every word. “A prophet is not without honour save in his own country…”

Imagine both Houses of Britain’s Parliament gathered in historic Westminster Hall to hear him shape ideas for a new way to approach old businesses. Via TV the much-acclaimed venue might look like a draughty old barn, but it is so exclusive that President Obama is only the FOURTH personality in contemporary times accorded the honour to guest-speak there. Before him… HM the Queen herself, the Pope and Nelson Mandela. Obama took it in his stride. Truly, “What is fi-yuh cannot be un-fi-yuh”. The media Back Home can carp all they want, Obama scored again. So what if he wrote the wrong date in some guest book or other? Maybe 2008 is really when his political life began.

BACK ON OUR HOME SOIL, growing disaffection with politicians continues. Right now nobody is impressed with the recently announced PNP Shadow Cabinet. Too many old faces and why aren’t there more women? Didn’t that used to be the party’s strength? On the JLP side, few people understand some of their choices like, what’s with the directive to the Foreign Minister to seek an explanation from The Embassy re the cancelled visas. Don’t they get it? Nobody has to explain anything. We’re no longer the Flavour of the Month. All that Dudus stuff changed the balance, no matter what is said diplomatically.

Back to what is making our politics so unbearably dull. How I yearn for the days when a speech from a leader of the day could provoke spirited discussion. Remember when we argued ideas, not pettiness? It didn’t mean that we had to agree, but there was always something, somewhere, to incite reflection. Wasn’t that which led to Independence? Today, what voices are we hearing?

One gets the impression that nobody at leadership level ever produces a thought for themselves, much less share revolutionary thought as to where we should be heading. It is all in the hands of the speech-writers to churn out what they think the people want to hear… and it doesn’t ring true in the mouth of the client.

A friend reminds me, “If you can’t speak as if you believe it, then why do you expect others to believe you?” And that, Mr Speaker, is a great part of the quicksand into which we’re sinking. We’re still waiting for something which we really can believe. While we’re at it, how about some more sincerity and truth? Bring us a fresh idea. Quick – before we suffocate in scandal and irrelevance.

gloudonb@yahoo.com