I have a bone to pick with my colleague and friend Claire Forrester, fine journalist and good friend though she is. How dare she upstage me by writing the finest tribute to a departed friend as I’ve read in a long time?

I have to admit, though, that her well-crafted salute to Corina Meeks, whom she hailed as an “information giant”, was not only well written but it provided insight into one of the most interesting periods of Jamaica’s history and the impact on information professionals like Corina Meeks, who found their integrity and skills tested. (PS: Claire — I forgive you).

Corina worked with the most controversial administration in our political history and yet never compromised her integrity. She did her job and did it well, earning every bit of the respect which was accorded her. Claire summed it up brilliantly in her column in this paper on Wednesday with the punchline: “She was a strong people person”. All that is left for me now is to claim fame by association with a woman who was a great lover of fete, in the finest Trini tradition, and brought joy to family and friends alike.

She never missed a Carnival, returning to her native Port of Spain as soon as ‘tent open’ to fete till midnight Shrove Tuesday when the last pan beat. When failing health began to slow her down she still went home. It was from her that I first heard of ‘truck mas’, in which the no-longer limber could follow the festivities from the vantage point of an open-back truck, descending to the pavement at strategic moments to ketch a lickle jump-up and then retreat to the truck-back before strength failed. Told picong-style, it is funnier than the written version, I assure you.

It is a pity that Caribbean history is degenerating into squabbles against Caricom, instead of embracing the vision which brought so many of us together, not just for trade and commerce, but for the joy of friendship and a shared destiny in which so many of us believed…. Respect to the family, headed by father Dr Charles Meeks, sons Professor Brian, orthodontist, Dr Jeffrey and daughter Professor Julie Meeks.

TIME passes. Friends come and go. History changes itself. New customs, new rituals are created. Have you noticed — especially if you are at what the French call “un certain age”, meaning that you ain’t as young as you used to be — that we’re losing friends with increasing frequency and with that, farewell rituals are becoming more complex? It could well be that, because so many ugly brutish things are happening here and elsewhere, as a community we’re indulging longer and longer programmes of goodbye, to compensate.

Tributes can never be enough apparently, even when they take up hours, testing the patience and goodwill of those who gather to pay respects. We seem reluctant to let go. Never mind that church benches were not built for comfort and air-conditioning does not come with the territory. The tributes go on and on and on. Farewell services now last for hours — up to six, from what I’ve heard in one case. As for the tributes, as many as 20 and over were delivered in one funeral. What are we saying that couldn’t have been said before?

The beat goes on

I have no more intention of commenting any further on the teachers’ squabble. The Tribe of Moutamassi will continue to play “wrong and strong”, proving the old adage that the “wrong-er they are, the strong-er they get”. The minister of education is maintaining his silence. The JTA will hold its meeting shortly. Legal opinion is already standing by. We will see what we will see.

Meanwhile, can we hear a word about how our children are doing? While grown men behave like colicky babies, children have to struggle to survive. Wouldn’t it be interesting if they could tell us exactly what they think as we, the elders, waste time deluding ourselves with mantras like “It takes a village to raise a child.” Yeah, yeah, right! So where’s the village? What is it doing? Last week we mourned the cruel death of a four-year-old. After all the shock and awe, what have we the people, not just the government, done to make life safer for other four-year-olds? We can’t always keep crazy people away from them, but we could at least try.

Studies of neglect

In a little while this year, we will be celebrating the 175th anniversary of the abolition of slavery. Much rhetoric will be spouted about our noble band of ancestors who fought for that freedom. In that spirit, I look forward to the resolving of the ongoing and seemingly endless journey to get the Morant Bay courthouse restored and the Paul Bogle statue back in place. Okay, so I can live in hope. The tragedy — for that it is — of the endless arguing and waste of time which has gone on seemingly forever, must come to an end. Either we’re going to have the courthouse and the statue back in place, or else all references to them in the guide books should be deleted. Why invite visitors to look for something which is not there?

Meanwhile, at another place, somewhere between last week and this, persons unknown used gold-coloured paint to dress the Bob Marley Statue at Independence Park (opposite the National Arena). So far, no one has claimed responsibility, so we have to assume that it is someone who holds him in high esteem. The problem is, if the paint has not been properly applied to the bronze of the statue, it won’t be long before we will be faced with stripping and peeling and one more defaced object in the public space.

The crusade by a group of churches to fight back against the gay lobby has been launched. I am all in favour of freedom of expression, especially in religious beliefs. Churches have a right to express their views and to speak in the name of the Gospel. However, in the prevailing mood now being expressed by members of the public about homosexuality, it would be wise for the campaign to include an anti-violence message. Not everyone is prepared to entertain any arguments about tolerance, which is often confused with unquestioned acceptance — the last thing many of our people want to hear about. If we weren’t so violent it wouldn’t bother me… but fuses are very short nowadays.

gloudonb@yahoo.com