OPINION: Guyana’s Vice President: requiem for the wretched, praying for the pitiful

Last Updated on Sunday, 28 November 2021, 7:25 by Denis Chabrol

by GHK Lall

Many damaging negatives have been piled on the glistening tome of Guyana’s Vice President.  I take stock, and reach conclusions, which would surprise my Guyanese brethren (American, too).  I now see him in a different light, a human one.

The VP is a good man.  His head led him astray, he is troubled by bad days.  We all have bad days, so he deserves a break.  From the looks of him, he rolls out of bed on the wrong side, which everyone know is all downhill from there.  I say to fellow Guyanese (and ABC&E friends) please understand, appreciate, even embrace him, for having all his days beginning like this.  Matters can’t be helped, since there are no human obstacles in his feathered bed(s) to hinder his rough rolls; well, at least, not in the official registers, at last check.

Because he starts like this, he wears that permanently pinched scowl, a haunted, scared look.  Translation: a man seeing jumbie, one living in a world of phantoms and rakshasas.  In the VP’s case, those are the shadows harrying him.  It is this darned oil.

Like Narcissus, he looks into the light sweet waters.  Unlike the Greek, his is a horror story, a crude one, which he brought upon himself by trusting too much in his slickness.  He believes more in Exxon, and now in cherished Americanism.  Nowadays, his lips shake, and if he were a drinking man, I would say lay off the sauce.  Instead, I urge that he leaves the oil alone, this fatal Waterloo.  I feel sorry for the man (really do).  Look at what it did to that pantheon of glorious heroes, the Shah of Iran, Saddam, and Chavez.  For good measure I add Gowan, Gaddafi, and our very own Granger.  Oil does that to people touched, and the VP should know that he does not have full immunity.  Frankie Anthony should tell him.

Since he is not a chronic boozer (like many karaoke and gambling comrades), I struggle to trace the source of this visible unsteadiness, this pale, drawn (lean and hungry) look.  I make progress, and these things take time.  Still, I feel sorry for this superpatriot, Guyana’s first oil war casualty.  As Sir Winston would have said: never before in the storied annals of Guyanese endeavor, has one solitary stalwart given so much for so many of his useless, hapless, spineless, helpless countrymen.  For sure, he made them that way.  For sure, too, the VP is trying hard, but he takes the wrong road, his feet get entangled, his mind muddled, his visions more frightening now.  How could he have done this to himself?  It is of someone rich in work ethic, but richer in the mysteries of his handiworks.  After all the unsolicited warnings I gave him.   Stuff happens.  Indeed, sometimes the runner stumbles.

I have the right antidote for him.  It should give him some elusive equilibrium.  I suggest a little lightening up, with that reminder from Reader’s Digest -laughter is the best medicine.  I absorb and share humor daily.  He should learn not to take himself so seriously.  Many say his oil stewardship is shield for much showmanship; I see it as a special kind of slippery craftsmanship.  I must consult with counsel, meaning, conscience.  I did, and acting under advisement, all I can share is that the results are confidential.  I have the right prescriptions, anyhow, for the VP: truth, justice, integrity.  He should try those sometime.  Incidentally, Frankie’s medicine cabinet don’t have those.

I recall last August when the VP returned, many held him out as pure as the driven snow.  Like Mae West, he drifted.  Unlike the amorous Hollywood siren, Guyana’s VP drifted so much, he became a whole damn avalanche; precious second chances wasted.  Give some men a break, and they breakup.  I credited him for being sharper, less of the funny money stuff.  Believe me, I pray for him, but God is curiously silent.

The problem for the VP, and the PPP, is that there are no brakes on runaway exploits.  In olden days, there was the Jolly Roger as a heavy restraining hand; that would be Dr. Luncheon.  Today, there is nobody.  Certainly, not His Excellency, Dr. Transparency Ali.  He is too much a part of the fun.  Definitely not his own handpicked Palace Guard of mythmakers and propagandizers, not the assorted swooning, drooling, media cheerleading squad.  He has got no one and nothing, a classic case of a man who gained the world, and lost his marbles.  The problem with the VP is that he is in desperate need of a conscience and the directions to which such a moral compass urge.  Added to that, there must be the restraining weight of ethical anchors that caution against the unhinging instincts which overflow with heady abandon.

The lessons from above are simple, which I do my duty and share freely with the VP: don’t get too smart for own good.  And a man should be careful not to think that he is smarter than he actually is.  Or, as Dirty Harry (Eastwood) smirked: a man’s got to know his limitations.  To my fellow independents: ease up on the VP.   Give the man some space; as to what he does and where he goes, or what becomes of him, with the respite given is anybody’s guess.  I hope that it is the opposite of what and how he has been now (and ever).  He may think he has the whole world by men’s proverbial weak spots.  But of this I leave him and his people to ponder, if they are still capable of such an exercise: he is in the hands of what judges, what determines; maybe penalizes.  I wish him well, since no one is beyond redemption.  I reassure all that I pray for Guyana, including the Hon. Vice President.  Now I must withdraw for Christmas -most of December, other than a few smidgins.