October 10, 2015

The seven deadly sins

Satiricus knew that you couldn’t stop a good thing – just like you couldn’t keep a good man down. “Look at Minister of Securing Security, Rum Jhaat,” Satiricus thought, “the fella was doing so well at reducing crime, Pressie had even made him “President of Vice”! Some people called the position “Vice President” but Satiricus knew better.
How could you stop crime if you couldn’t control “vice”?? “Hadn’t we learnt in Sunday School that “vice” was “wicked behaviour” -like the seven deadly sins: greed, envy, gluttony, sloth, wrath, lust and pride? “Stop the sins and you stop crime.” said Satiricus firmly.
But the Jhaat was a firm believer that you had to do something, you had to experience it. The Jhaat had started out with the first one “greed” – and told the nation that this was the root of all crimes. The Jhaat knew what he was talking about. It was greed that had him led to carry news to THE Embassy. The money was just too good to pass up, even if it meant betraying people who had helped him all his life. And it wasn’t like he was taking “thirty pieces of silver” like that other fella. The Jhaat demanded thirty-one. So arum Jhaat knew how to attack greed.
“Envy” was easy. When he was in the PPEE party, he had worshipped at the feet of the Jagons and here was this kid Jagdesh who came in just like that and won over their affections. Never mind he worked harder than anybody. If the Jhaat wasn’t dark skinned he woulda been green with envy.
Gluttony? Didn’t that KFC man from Essequibo testify how every time Rum Jhaat went to keep meetings, he had to have a Kahari of duck curry and large Grey Goose just for the “President of Vice”?
Sloth was easy for the Jhaat. He was naturally slow and as a boy even his mother called him “Kor-hee”. Every reporter knew about the “wrath” of Rum Jhaat, since “haul yuh ass!”‘was a term of endearment for him. Lust also came easy – as his eyes cast in every direction when any nubile young lady was around.
But “pride”‘…”false pride” was the Jhaat’s speciality. He always felt that because he was a lawyer, he was better than the other guys in the PPEE. And that was why HE had to be the leader. Or else!!
“So,” concluded Satiricus, “who was better qualified to be President of Vice and take care of our Security?”
“Who de man?? De Jhaat is de vice man!!”‘ chanted Satiricus.

Share Button

High Spirits

Satiricus had been upset for some time now, but he’d kept his mouth shut. It had to do with the “name and shame” programme of the Police. Every week, the police would release 6 pics of fellas – and they were all fellas – who were nabbed “driving under the influence”. And were subsequently convicted and fined.

What Satiricus was upset about was that week after week, all the fellas whose pics were spread across the papers were from BERBICE!!!! Now Satiricus didn’t have anything against Berbice or Berbicians. In fact some of his best friends were Berbicians. Even his favourite politicians Naga Man (now the Prime Moocher) and Rum Jhaat (now the Invisible Man) were from Berbice.

But as a born and bred Demerarian, Satiricus felt he had his honour – and the honour of Demerara where his navel string was buried – to uphold. And part and parcel of this honour – and any true-true Guyanese would tell you – was to be able to knock down a large without blinking. You could vomit your guts out afterwards – but you couldn’t blink. This accomplishment separated the men from the boys.

As he thought of the indignity of no Demararian making the “Macho Top Six Drinkers ” every week, he remembered how he and his buddies had taken their first drink at the age of 12 and became men. How things had changed. It wasn’t just a matter of just drinking and getting into fights or “behaving bad” – nowadays, to prove your manhood, you had to down the large and drive your car at blinding speed – while the road was filled with women and children. Not to mention other cars.

“And look who’s winning,” snorted Satiricus. He knew Berbicians had a head start because of Berbice leaders such as Naga Man and Rum Jhaat who had inspired the hit song “Rum Till ah die”!! He’d seen this coming. Even as those two worthies put away larges like they were coconut water, look what Satiricus’ Demerara-born leader Jagdesh was doing – DRINKNG NO LIKKER!

While it may be harsh, Jagdesh had to take some of the blame for not leading his countymen to top the DUI “top 6”. But all hope wasn’t lost. Somewhere out there would be someone from Demerara who “was born to be a drinker” and who would return Demerara to glory.

In the meantime under the leadership of Naga Man and Rum Jhaat, Berbice would rule the roost. Or the bar stool.

Share Button

Arms Race

Satiricus was awestruck at the display our men in olive were putting on in Georgetown. Satiricus knew that the entire city had been on tenterhooks when they saw pictures of all those Venezuelan missiles poised on our border. While Satiricus wasn’t any kind of military maven, he was pretty sure those missiles weren’t meant to be dropped on Bai Shan Lin’s stands of greenheart.

In fact, since Maduro had issued “identity cards” to all the folks in Essequibo, THEY had nothing to worry about. Maduro wouldn’t be killing off his own newly anointed “citizens” would he? “No sir! It was we folks in Georgetown that would suffer from the Venezuelan Blitz,” moaned Satiricus. And he was grateful for the soldiers in the city.

Satiricus wasn’t worried hadn’t been equipped them with SAM’s (that’s Surface to air missiles) to take out the oncoming SRBM (that’s Short Range Ballistic Missiles). “It’s not what equipment you have… it’s how you use it,” thought Satiricus, as he clenched his jaw. The Commandant of the army had already looked over our airborne resources. While the Bell 412 Helicopter was “unserviceable” and the Chinese made Y-12 plane was “under repairs”, the 2 seven-seater Bell 206’s could easily ferry the squad that would take on the Venezuelans.

And the commandant was already placing an order for weapons to match the Venezuelan arsenal. Satiricus was worried that we might be plunging into an arms race with the Venezuelans. While he knew he would enjoy strutting past our own missiles and Mirage Fighters and all that on Independence Day, Satiricus was worried. He’d read that if a country buys gums, they can’t buy butter. Satiricus wasn’t sure as to why this was so but he did love his bread buttered.

But more to the point, Satiricus thought the Commandant was ignoring the lesson of our own history – and we would be doomed to repeat it. Back in 1966 he’d read that that Great Leader Burnt Ham had repealed the Venezuelans by making “every citizen soldier”. Burnt Ham quadrupled the size of the army, formed a National Service, a People’s Militia, a Women’s Auxillary, and armed his Youth group and had schoolchildren doing the lizard crawl in their school uniforms.

“Did a number on our elbows and uniforms” Satiricus reminisced, “But it scared away those nasty Venezuelans!”

What’s more, the unemployment problem would be solved, the economy would get the stimulus with all that military spending and our people would finally see why our Pressie hired all those military brass.
The man was a prophet!

Share Button