POLITICS is as full of surprises as it is of non-surprises, and sometimes the big things in politics curiously give way to the non-essentials such as turncoats. For although I was about 10 or 11 years old when former Mayor of Mandeville Cecil Charlton switched political allegiance from the People’s National Party to the Jamaica Labour Party, the event has remained indelibly fresh in my mind. The irascible Mr Charlton was so irked by a decision Michael Manley made in respect to Mandeville politics that it precipitated his switch to the JLP. Consequently, in his first speech as a JLP supporter, Charlton delivered one of the most comical political speeches I had ever heard. So much so, I not only asked my late father if Charlton was really serious, but I also asked him to explain the metaphors he had used to describe his political rebirth.

As I recall, nothing stood in the way of the then longest-serving mayor in the world as he lambasted his former political brothers. However, it was Charlton’s slick characterisation of himself that made me laugh. Said the new Cecil, “I was deaf, but now I can hear; I was foolish, but now I am wise; I was blind, but now I can see…” It was the last refrain, about being blind and regaining sight, that got my attention. “How could any of those things be possible, Pops?” I asked. He smiled and then said, “You know Chris, when people do not have much to say, but think they must say something, they usually talk all kinds of damn foolishness.” The big irony of it all was that prior to Charlton’s switch, he spared no effort in talking up his effectiveness as the PNP Mayor of Mandeville and gleefully professed the virtues of the PNP to which he belonged. That was when I knew that “mouth cut crossway” as my late aunt was wont to preach.

There have been many political turncoats, on both sides of the political divide; some more colourful than others, but all with very interesting antecedents and storylines. For while I did not personally witness the political rebirth of local chemist, the late Doc Francis, his story lives on to this day. Set in the late 1950s in the PNP enclave of Highgate, St Mary, where Doc practised dispensary and ran a drugstore, Doc Francis was initially a Comrade of great repute. However, faced with financial difficulties, he allegedly switched allegiance and ran on the JLP ticket in the local government elections. But as bad luck would have it, the timing of his switch and the development of an everlasting inguinal hernia (boasun) could not have been worse. So glaringly was his protruding dilemma, not even the long medical coat concealed it. The PNP exploited his heavy burden and created a revival-like political song, much to his wife’s disgust, which went in part: “Francis left PNP and it caused his… to swell; Francis left PNP and it caused his… to swell. For he went away hunting money but he came back “boasting” and we have to tell all the Labour people that Francis… is swell.”

Luckily, nowadays, male politicians who switch sides, whether motivated by money or not, are not bothered by developing inguinal hernias. Therefore, there could well be some intensification and in deference to the fairer sex, there will be no songs about things swelling up on them. Yet, I could not help laughing last week as I watched Sharon Hay Webster, dressed in full white, cross the aisle to much cheer from her new parliamentary supporters.

There was something very strange and painfully disappointing about her switch; and it has more to do with my genuine admiration of the “pre-2008” Sharon and less with the political fortunes of her latest move. To me, the entire crossover was awkwardly comical and superficially choreographed. Somehow she appeared much smaller than the switch itself which said something very profound about the politics of spite and convenience, and is far more than Sharon should want her actions to convey. But politics is a dynamic sport and holding on to Andrew’s coat-tail may have become the latest play, however incongruous to the bigger game.

For one of the reasons given by Bruce Golding for resigning as prime minister was to make way for younger people, having suddenly realised that he would turn 64 in December. Following his announcement, the JLP quickly coalesced around 39-year-old Andrew Holness and he is now prime minister. Since then, the JLP has been using what I would term the “drip-by-drip” public relations tactic to announce the prime minister’s schedule, but more so, to announce the JLP’s candidate selections. Nothing is inherently wrong with this approach; except that, if not managed carefully, people could become turned off by the overkill.

That said, however, some of the candidates that the party is currently fielding do not comport with the explanation given by Golding; neither do they fit with Holness’s emphasis on youth nor his doctrine on pulling in post-Independent people into the fold. Desmond McKenzie and Dwight “I can’t recall” Nelson come readily to mind. And while I understand Desmond’s candidacy in light of his intimate relationship with the West Kingston constituency, I am somewhat baffled, but titillated, by the selection of Dwight “I can’t recall” Nelson to run against Julian Robinson in South Eastern St Andrew. I am baffled because at 65 years old, according to the “Golding Doctrine,” Nelson should be following him into political retirement.

Nevertheless, I am titillated by the prospects of seeing Dwight “I can’t recall” Nelson on the campaign trail. Already, he has been making some rather interesting and feisty utterances and these may only get worse as the political heat intensifies. Speaking recently to reporters, Mr Nelson was quoted as saying, “I will have him (Robinson) for supper.” This is the same Mr Nelson who had asked KSAC Councillor Eugene Kelly, during the Dudus-Manatt Commission of Inquiry if, “You want a piece of me?” Now, I cannot picture that at all, but politics is a funny thing indeed.

burnscg@aol.com