Taming the monster, here and there
THE Riverton monster has gone back to sleep — until the next time. While the fire was blazing, it was very easy to lay the blame on everybody but you and me. There were enough theories to examine, many words to throw around, much blame to share. Politics captured the headlines, of course. Politics always gets top billing. “The woman” lost her work, which satisfied some of the national appetite for revenge.
It is not a long while since the inferno controlled our lives. The big smoke has subsided and, although residue still lingers, we haven’t shaken off the offensive odour from our clothes completely. But at least the children could go out to take the GSAT. We want to believe it won’t happen again. But the big question to be asked is: What preparations are we making to defend ourselves from the smoke next time?
Let’s not forget all the wisdom we spouted about how to control the inferno and all the recommendations to save our environment. We talked about sorting our garbage — plastics here, kitchen scraps there, etc, etc, the dis over yah so, the dat over deh so, just like they do in Foreign — yet, what is being put in place now to save us and the environment which we swore to protect? We have no shortage of experts. Now that the matter is in their hands, let us see how the challenge will be met.
Despite the best effort, Riverton will burn again. We will talk and talk and talk once more about what should be done, so we’d better be prepared. We pay our taxes. We are responsible citizens, no matter what some people think. We don’t believe in litter. Yes, we might drop a tissue here and a tissue there, but we don’t mean any harm. Really? Some people are not buying that anymore, so who to blame? It’s full time, though, that we do better. Even a dummy can see that we can’t continue in the old way.
Singapore talk
Seriously now, it will be interesting to see if the heirs and inheritors of Lee Kuan Yew will be able to maintain the same dictatorial policies as he did for years and years. He created a society where economic success was worshipped, but he ruled with a heavy hand — who didn’t like it could take it or leave it. He expressed total contempt for any society where people had the temerity to think they could do whatever they want.
He created an economic paradise, the kind for which many of our people yearn. Our Seaga saw him as a “dear friend”, yet he was not able to convince us that Singapore-style governance would be successful here.
In the early days of his leadership, Lee Kuan Yew dismissed the Caribbean with unrepentant contempt. Some people said it was Michael Manley who was being rejected when Mr Singapore talked about Calypso country — or words to that effect. I read somewhere that he was talking about the whole Caribbean, not Jamaica alone.
I used to correspond with a Jamaican professional who lived in Singapore. He made good money, but he was choking under the iron fist. Government controlled everything and he could do nothing about it. He took extra care with what he wrote or said on the phone, social media, or anywhere that he could be overheard. He lived in a housing development where the residents were under constant vigilance by a government-appointed committee. It was the same on the streets, he said cautiously. Watchful eyes were always there.
How did he manage? He comforted himself with the economic benefits and the determination that one day he could head back home. No, we didn’t have money, but at least there was some freedom — too much, some people say.
When news reached us of the death, on Monday, of the iron-handed creator of a country which we desperately want to be (emulate), we chose to ignore the stories of the man who didn’t hesitate to drop the bamboo cane, if necessary, to make it clear that his people get the message about law and order. It is not today that we have been singing the song: “If only we were Singapore, revelling in economic growth.” When some of us heard of the draconian measures some had doubts that they could stand the punishment from hefty fines to sentences of beating. Our hometown Singapore admirers who, from a safe distance, yearn for economic benefits, hardly speak of the iron fist behind the treasured growth. As to the talk about freedom and rights, listen instead, as money talks. That’s what we crave. What we need here, I’ve heard it said, is somebody to whip us into economic shape, and Singapore certainly knows how. What if we had taken up the economic model too?
We would have done well to have made an alliance with Lee Kuan Yew if it is growth that we yearn. Well, it’s too late now. He made his departure on Monday at the age of 91. A son of his has already been selected to carry on the Singaporean dream. There’s no reason that things will change, if at all. Power is power. “That is what we need to tame Riverton soon,” said one of our citizens who claimed that he was prepared for the beating and the bamboo cane. “What we need is citizen order; and who don’t hear must feel”, said he. I’m still wrestling with that.
By the way, haven’t heard from my “pen pal” in a long time. I often wonder if he has moved on to make a new future away from the threat of the bamboo cane and the watching eyes trained on his apartment complex. To each his own.
Excitement in town
Yes, Champs is on the scene, but I was thinking about the hope of many that, by some miracle, somehow they will get a glimpse of President Obama when he is here week after next. Get real! He’s not going to walk through the streets of Kingston. S-E-C-U-R-I-T-Y will be the word of the week. Word is out that a group of young Jamaicans will be allowed to meet him. Do, I beg you, whoever has the power, choose a group of young citizens, not just from Kingston, but out of town too. It is not the city alone which has bright, interesting young people who could represent the rest of us well.
FOOL-FOOL: Did you read the letter to the editor in the Observer this week warning against offering Mr President a ganja spliff? Apparently, it was meant to be a joke. Why not retitle it “Chupidniss?”
QUESTION OF THE WEEK: What now, Holness?
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