April 19, 2015 By
April 15, 2015 By
April 12, 2015 By
April 8, 2015 By
April 5, 2015 By
Satiricus’ heart went out to Rum Jhaat. As a member of the PPCEE, the Jhaat had always figured old man Jagun was too “soft”. Look how the Jhaat and Nagga Man were always drinking and carrying on in rum shops – but Jagun never kicked them out of the party.
Imagine Hyte saw Nortun drinking some beers one time at a street corner – and threw him out of the party!! The General Secretary!! Hyte said Nortun was his “creature”.
Ramjattan liked Hyte and BurntHam. Their motto was, “Tek first lick…but don’t tek last lick!!” And so when Jagdesh had made a fuss about Rum Jhaat carrying news to the US Embassy, the Jhaat claimed he was imitating BurntHam. Going with the tide.
And when he was kicked out, he swore he would get “last lick” on the PPP/C and Jagdesh. He was prepared to do anything.
First he would get the TrotMan out of the KFC. If they rotated and gyrated like they’d promised, it would’ve been TrotMan’s turn to be the Presidential Candidate. But he’d gotten him out…no??
And he cancelled the “rotating and gyrating” rule – so his buddy Nagga Man could fill the spot. The Jhaat figured this was his master stroke. If he’d pushed himself, people like NoGel, whose turn it was, would’ve said he was screwing them.
But the Jhaat was now facing a burning dilemma. He’d arranged for Nagga Man to get married to GrainJa in Berbice, figuring that this would bring in the Berbice votes. He’d even slept between the two of them on the first night – as the “luck knee”.
And because of Berbice custom he had to tek the “larwah” before Nagga Man. It wasn’t easy….He was still sore all over. His throat was sore because of his screaming…
But he was terrified as what was to happen now that it was clear he and Nagga Man wasn’t able to bring out the 11 per cent Berbicians as they’d promised. Not only would he be able to jail Jagdesh, like he’d dreamt. GrainJa had told him clearly if they didn’t bring in the votes, it was more larwah for him.
The Jhaat would have to tek last lick…again and again!! Ouch!!
April 1, 2015 By
Satiricus was very upset. He didn’t like how his Editor had announced that Rum Jhaat was “sleeping” when APANU leader GrainJa was speaking at the rally in Berbice. So what if they printed a picture?? So what if they say “a picture’s worth a thousand words”??
Satiricus just knew the Jhaat wasn’t sleeping. He was just reflecting on what was coming down on him as a member of Nagga Man’s “bariiat”.
Satiricus hadn’t known too much about this “bariiat” business – he knew about “wedding processions”. But his wife reminded him that since it was Rum Jhaat who arranged the wedding between Nagga Man and GrainJa, he had to play his role. On the way up from Georgetown, she said, the Jhaat would have to drink rum, sing “wutless” Chutney songs about who want “de hammer” and such like, and also generally behave bad.
Satiricus figured none of this would be any trouble for the Jhaat, since this was how he behaved in any case. In or out of his office! Then when the bariiat landed in Berbice, his wife emphasised the Jhaat would have to drink some more with all the relatives.
The Jhaat was originally from Berbice and since he didn’t get that real, raw Bush-rum from the Whim foreshore when he was in Georgetown, this extra drinking also wasn’t any sweat for him. No problemo!! “Bring it on!!” said the Jhaat!
Then the Bride Nagga Man and the Groom GrainJa would have to say their vows on the stage in front of the Piss Doctor’s house. No problem for RumJhaat. By this time he would be “pissing drunk” in any case, and wouldn’t even mind imbibing any of that fluid!! Nagga Man would speak first – “ladies first” was the Berbice tradition. That was cool with the Jhaat.
But what made him close his eyes and think deeply was what would happen after GrainJa finished speaking. This is what made the Jhaat close his eyes. And not to sleep. It fact it was more like naked terror! His official role as the person who arranged the marriage was that he was the “Luck Knee”.
And after GrainJa spoke, the Luck-Knee would have to sleep this “first night” on the same bed – between GrainJa and Nagga Man. Since Berbicians were very traditional, the Bride Nagga Man couldn’t be touched. It was the Luck-Knee who had to fill in.
Or be filled in. And this was why Rum Jhaat had closed his eyes and his face was all contorted. Ouch!!
March 29, 2015 By
Satiricus had long been a big time fan of Brother Bob Marley. And had freed his mind of “mental slavery”. But he was still more than a bit upset when folks snickered at Lalloo Ram for insisting they call him “Chris”.
OK…OK…. All Lalloo’s buddies had followed Brother Bob’s advise and changed their slave names back to real original ones like “Mwahebi Olumba” (meaning “one who stopped eating pork”) and such like. But hey!! Didn’t some other poet (not as famous as Brother Bob) ask, “What’s in a name??”
Satiricus felt vindicated when it was revealed that Lalloo was actually a British citizen. Can’t have a Britisher called “Lalloo”, can you?? You can have one named “Lily Lolo” but that’s grist for another mill. There WAS something in a name! And Satiricus hoped that all those who couldn’t stop giggling at Lalloo’s suspenders and pedantic language would ease up now.
“But what was Harree Narayan’s excuse?” wondered Satiricus at the subject that had brought about this train of thought. Here it was that for donkey years (not “asses years” – that’s not suitable for a family newspaper!) Harree had been telling one and all that he was “Ralf” even though he boasted HE never suffered from mental slavery!!
He had solved the contradictions of dialectical effluvia…and saw things in their “essences”.
Satiricus only discovered Rolph was actually Harree when he read in the GTimes that “the man who would be President” had opened up a bank account in Barbados to clean up some money that had fallen into mud.
And those Bajans insisted he tell them his real name – or they would put him on the “GUYANESE bench” to sit for days. Rolph confessed right away that his real name was “Harree Narayan”. He had “pile” and couldn’t sit on the GUYANESE bench too long.
But why would Harree hide his real name?? Could it be that he too was British?? If he was “British” he couldn’t run for President!! That was it! More than anything else in the world, Harree wanted to be President. He really wanted to have those Police cars with their sirens wailing when he would travel around.
But more important, when he sent his money that keeps on falling into mud to be washed in Bajan banks, they wouldn’t be able to ask him for his real name. Immunities!!
And this explained what a little birdie had told him: Lalloo was suing GTimes on Harree’s behalf for blowing his cover. The Brits have to stick together, wot?
March 26, 2015 By
Satiricus heaved a deep sigh. “Life wasn’t always fair, was it?” he asked himself. Here it was, Rum Jhaat had worked and plotted and schemed to get this far…and now it was all “gone for channa”. He was such a misunderstood soul.
Sure, the Jhaat wanted power. Didn’t Burnt Ham say any politician who said he didn’t want power was either a fool or a rascal?
It was what you wanted to do with the power that was important. And so…SURE the Jhaat wanted power to get his hands on money. “But”, thought Satiricus looking down on the Diary on his lap, “All the Jhaat wanted the money for a fancier bottle of rum.”
His niece, Leewattee, maid to the Opposition in their newly-acquired “package of benefits”, had purloined it temporarily.
Dear Diary: Dat Nagga Man a wan real scamp. Look all wha me do fuh he… and dis is how he gon treat me? He a wan real neemakharam! Out of all de people, he know how me like wan drink. And now he gone wid GraniJa to America and he na even tek me along fuh water boy!! And he know dat in America, de rum does flow like Essequibo River!
He know because is I did tell he. How me use to go to America fuh raise funds fuh KFC and all de fancy rum dat use to share! Chivas…Black Label…Grey Goose….
Dear Diary: When me drink dem rum me think me dead and gone ah heaven!! Dey don’t taste like de Berbice Bush Rum me and Nagga Man grow up pan. Is dat Bush Rum me and Nagga Man drink mek we face get so twist-up.
People who know we nowadays think is because of old age. But me face bin like dis since Standard Four when me start fuh drink Bush Rum. But tell me na, Dear Diary.
Is me put Nagga Man fuh Primp Minister. He know is nothing more me like dan wan good half gallon of Chivas. When me look at de picture and me see all dem big bottle pon de table in Florida, me heart nearly buss!
But me Dady always tell me “who laugh last, laugh best”. He na know why me gi’e he Primp Minister wuk. Is me who gon laff when GrainJa gi’e he Larwah!! Big Larwah!!
Good night, Dear Diary. Ah gon finish off me large Bush Rum.
March 22, 2015 By
Satiricus saw it as a sign. Here it was he’d been sent by his Editor to cover the APANU+ KFC meetings in New York. And that’s the first thing that annoyed Satiricus. If Nagga Man and GrainJa had tied the knot, why couldn’t they join-up their names.
This “+” business wasn’t working for Satiricus. It was like he and his wife introducing themselves as “Satiricus + Antigone” instead of “Mrs and Mr Satiricus”. Now which one announced to the world that the couple were joined in holy matrimony??
And that reminded Satiricus that he was still peeved as to how GraniJa had rejected RumJhaat’s name for the coalition – Partnership Alliance for National Trust – Yes! (PANTY)… And for those that forgot the “YES” it became “PANT”.
Satiricus thought it was genius how the Jhaat had covered both males and females. (“covered”, get it?? PANT and PANTY!! Jeez, it’s not a joke when you have to explain it.)
Anyhow back to the “sign”: it was the first day of Spring in New York – and it SNOWED!! Could you believe it?? Where were all the buds sprouting on trees and couples smooching in Time Square like Satiricus saw in the movies??
But Satiricus had a job to do and “when the going got tough, the tough got going” was what Satiricus’ dad had always told him. He was so looking forward to the “unity” that Mr 11 p[er cent Nagga Man was bringing to the table with Mr 40 per cent GrainJa.
Because back in old Mudland, Satiricus was really tired over all the “love and unity” that was spouted on the stage at the meetings – but only one kinda people in the audience. “Where was the unity,” moaned Satiricus. “Guyana’s still so divided!”
This was the first time Satiricus was covering political meetings in New York. He was sure that because Guyanese of all types and species had escaped all the pressures in Guyana – they must be united in New York. Especially when Mr 11 per cent Nagga Man had hitched up with 40 per cent Mr GrainJa.
So Satiricus moseyed over to Brooklyn where the first meeting was held Friday night. And was shocked to find out it was just like being at the Linden Rally – ALL ONE SET OF GUYANESE!!! He fumed over this and figured that the organisers didn’t know who was coming to dinner. “Because it look real baaaad for a ‘unity’ party”, thought Satiricus to himself.
So the next day he went to the second meeting over in Queens – some place named South Ozone. And Satiricus was even more shocked that it was déjà vu all over again. ONE SET OF GUYANESE – this time like was Berbice.
Satiricus headed straight for the airport – which was less that ten minutes away. If this was the result of “unity” he might as well have the same thing where it was at least warm and sunny. “Good old Guyana!!” Satiricus thought, “I’m outta here!!”
March 18, 2015 By