ANY VISITOR ON A TOUR of city Kingston, who was introduced to Gordon House, our seat of Parliament, must wonder at the ordinariness of the box-like structure with no redeeming architectural feature worthy of remembering. White House and Westminster it is not, but the visitor should know that, for membership in the exclusive club, which has met in that ordinary-looking building for almost 50 years, men and women in this Jamaica have fought and some have died in the attempt.

The visitor should know that we’ve just come out of one of those battles (all safe and accounted for) and that the crowds who swarmed the streets around the House on Tuesday morning were engaged in another rite of celebrating the calm after the storm. A Caribbean neighbour, who was having her first experience of the swearing-in of a new Parliament, Jamaica-style, admitted to being absolutely fascinated by the exuberance of the crowds outside, and the mix of pomp and ceremony with flashes of friendly banter inside. It was unlike anything she’d seen before.

“Oh Go-od, girl. You Jamaicans different eh, and I love it”. She loved the spirit of the party supporters, victors and vanquished alike, and the mix of seriousness and humour in the formalities. When I responded casually to the compliments, in the way we Jamaicans do, she reminded me (gently) that many countries do not enjoy the democracy which we have. The secret was out. We rant and rave about protecting democracy, but when we see it, can we recognise it? Apparently not. The nice people find it easier to be critical over cocktails or via social media, but have some difficulty getting enumerated and going out to vote on election day. It is no surprise that it is the “other class of people” who, having influenced the course of history, flock to Duke Street on swearing-in day to identify with those who are charged now with being “servants of the people”.

So, on Tuesday morning, the crowds gathered at the field of action, according to tradition, JLP to the North, defiant in defeat, PNP to the South, “boasie” in victory. The conquering heroes got to march down the middle, cheered or jeered. The fashionistas struck their poses until it was time to move into the House by a common entrance, there to witness the rituals of commitment. This privilege went to the invited while the faithful kept vigil in the street, waiting to give one more round of cheer and jeer, before the newly appointed were whisked away. We different fi true.

QUESTION TIME NOW… What is the Opposition thinking, when it makes the improbable demand that the policies which they left behind to go to the polls, must remain untouched and that the Government carry on as if they do not have a mandate of their own? Most strange. Never heard that one before.

Then, there is the matter of how long we will defer decision on providing appropriate facilities for a modern Parliament. It is not just a matter of the aesthetics, but the practicality of facilitating more and more representatives of the people by cramming them into the same limited space.

There is need also for some basic equipment to facilitate more efficient administration. Gordon House could do with an expanded library, I’m told, not for indulgence but for enlightenment, which is always needed. An enlarged visitors’ gallery should not be out of the question if we want citizens to see their representatives at work and get a better idea of what governance means. Of course, we have demands on the national budget for other important things – schools, hospitals, etc, but they are not mutually exclusive to an equipped Parliament. Gordon House was regarded as temporary accommodation 50 years ago when it was built. Isn’t it full time for permanent residence status?

IT HAS BEEN SAID of us that there is nothing we like to do so much as to give unsolicited advice. Well, I’m ready to maintain the tradition. Here goes… MEMO to the newly elected, especially the young ones who are the media stars of the moment. Run, don’t walk, to get away from the adulation as soon as possible. The same people lifting you up are just waiting to pull you down.

For those who have ministerial responsibility, double up on your vitamins and keep fit. You’re going to need it as you lift up your portfolio as well as respond to the needs of your constituents. Never forget December 29, 2011. When the people ready to move, they don’t “talk wid water inna dem mout”. While we are at it, it might be wise to stock up on ancestral wisdom. You’re going to need it. The people still do not speak the Queen’s English, despite what you have heard.

Forget the advice that with your BB and iPad you can do all things. Learn to sing “Dem a go tired fi see mi face” and make it mean what it says. In all probability, you will always be tired – but remember, the people didn’t elect a camera phone. It is you they want to see, live and direct. Ignore them and they will not hesitate to sing lyrics like “get you outta de race”.

FEET TO THE FIRE: The people have spoken. No more leggo beast behaviour in Parliament. Warning is being served that a change is coming. Enough already. There must be another way to speak with passion and commitment about matters of importance without appearing ready to commit manslaughter (and woman slaughter too). Be warned – people in the street are convinced that empty barrels really do make the most noise. The challenge – to maintain your passion and conviction, to be informed, interesting and convincing. Cut the long speeches. Nobody has time to hang around till you get to the end. Everybody in the audience has a cut-off switch. Remember that.

THE SHOW GOES ON: It is a good thing Lloyd B Smith has experience as an actor as well as journalist and politician. He must have been reciting the mantra “The show must go on”, as he battled own-way trousers which were bent on bringing him to the least, while he headed to make his debut in the hallowed halls of G House on Tuesday. He managed to bring it off, despite the embarrassment, but then everybody knows that the “Governor” does not sink easily. He later blamed the near disaster on anxiety and a difference of opinion with the waistband of the trousers and overloaded pockets. Cool breeze, bredrin – but next time, consider belt and braces. If all else fails, get a stylist. Everybody else is doing it. One love!

FREE AT LAST: Monday January 16, 2012, six judges of the Court of Appeal got the first taste of freedom from itchy, scratchy, outdated horsehair wigs which made even the most serious judge look like a character in an English comedy. I know the traditionalists are not happy, but as Mr Garvey said in a self-composed song: Be Cool! Word is that more wigs are to be ditched and other measures taken to bring our courts into a new age. Hallelujah. Time come now; we haffi move along.

gloudonb@yahoo.com