The suspension from Parliament yesterday of Basdeo Panday, Trinidad and Tobago’s leader of the Opposition, for unauthorised laptop use, has left me feeling me terribly confused. Please help me resolve some of the issues surrounding the matter by taking this poll:
*in June 2006, US Senator Stevens famously referred to the internet as “a series of tubes“
UPDATE: The Trinidad and Tobago Computer Society blog has a listing of news articles about the incident.
I’ve just donated some money, so I can vouch for the fact that the service works, and offers several options for payment, including credit cards and PayPal. And what’s even nicer is that a band of Kenyan bloggers will be directly involved in the purchase and distribution of the supplies. According to Juliana, “on Thursday the 17th of January the bloggers in Nairobi will meet at the mamamikes office, assist in purchasing all the items and delivering them to the Red Cross.”
From an allAfrica.com article challenging the “tribe-centric” analysis of the current situation in Kenya (link via Ethan):
“. . . many analysts have long argued that “tribe” is particularly pernicious in diverting attention from the structural and immediate causes of violence by attributing it to supposedly immutable and irrational divisions.”
Just as the term “gang-related” seems to be doing in discussions about crime in Trinidad?
Finding myself agreeing with the activist quoted this morning in the Express, who said that, with the exception of Attorney General Bridget Annisette George (whom I cannot say I know much about), “none of them have shown any sympathy, empathy, indication or understanding of what is required or expected of women in those positions. . . . The fact that the Prime Minister chose them is a strike against them.”
I’m willing to wait and see whether some of the appointees — female and otherwise — of whom I have such low expectations surprise me and learn the meaning of the term “gender policy” and why such might be necessary in a country where issues like reproductive rights remain at the bottom of the agenda. But I ain’t holding my breath.
A person I know called a while ago to enquire about the mood in the neighbourhood following the results of yesterday’s election. I told him it was hard to tell, as this isn’t the kind of area where you necessarily know what’s going on behind closed doors. We went on to discuss why Prime Minister Manning is choosing to break with tradition and hold the swearing-in session in Woodford Square instead of the President’s House.
Apart from rather obvious desire to co-opt the Square’s historic allure, even if the President’s House remains unfit for ceremonial purposes, we wondered, why not hold the event in the new Diplomatic Centre, where the National Awards were held back in August? Could there be something in the Diplomatic Centre the Honourable Prime Minister doesn’t wish us to see? “You mean like a throne?” said my acquaintance.
It’s people like this who have this country in such a state.
It turns out that 12pm was the perfect time to go and cast one’s vote at polling station 0136 (known as the Diego Martin Junior Secondary School when it’s not election day). A parking spot awaited me in the schoolyard, in the shade of a mango tree, and apart from a handful of voters and a number of my COP activist neighbours roving the dingy corridors and walkways in between shifts as polling agents, the place was deserted. After visiting a main classroom where an Elections and Boundaries Commission officer checked to make sure my name was on the list, I was directed to the room for voters with surnames beginning with L-Z, where where voters with and without ID cards were separated into lines demarcated by strips of red and green paper stuck on the floor.
A certified “without” (I deliberately misplaced my ID card some years ago, largely on account of the horrifying photo), I took the red line. Once there, I proffered my passport and the polling card I’d received in the mail. The officer consulted the electoral list and drew a red line through my name, then rifled through a massive ledger and found a blue card with my registration info and a copy of the dreadful photo (now thankfully faded) from my lost ID card stuck to it. (I hope a copy of information in this ledger is stored on a computer somewhere.) Then the officer made me swear that I wasn’t lying about being unable to produce an ID card and that I hadn’t sold it, after which I had to sign a note confirming same. Then my name and consecutive number (198, for the record) were announced, mainly for the benefit of the two polling agents present (one of whom was probably COP and the other PNM–the UNC Alliance probably not bothering to waste further resources in this constituency), whose task is to try and figure out who I’m likely to be voting for.
Then I moved on to the voting officer, who signed and handed me my ballot paper and showed me how to fold it and to use the “X” stamp. Then I went behind a screen propped up on a school desk, considered briefly whether to inaugurate Jeremy’s proposed plan for proportional representation by putting a percentage instead of put an “X” next to the name of my candidate of choice, but decided on the “X” instead. Then I inserted my ballot through a slot into a padlocked metal box, dipped my finger into a pot of red ink, wiped off the excess, and left the room. So I’ve exercised my constitutional right, as the people like to say.
All morning the words to Bally’s “Party Time“, one of the undisputed hits of the 1986 election season, have been ringing in my head; belatedly, I know, as yesterday marked the end of the mindless and particularly Trinidadian brand of campaigning that Bally parodies in his calypso and which seems to have been taken to unprecedented heights this year. And of course I’m remembering 1986, the first and only time I ever felt deeply involved in an election campaign, not to mention hopeful about the outcome. That year my neighbourhood threw their support, predictably, behind the NAR, and I, not long back from university abroad, joined in. I spent most of that election day either at the polling station (I was a polling agent) or at the house up the street which had been designated NAR activist headquarters, getting high on the buzz.
The NAR won 33 out of 36 seats, of course, and swept into power on a tremendous tide of goodwill. Who knew then that, a mere three and a half years later, I’d be sitting in traffic on a highway in northern California (having left Trinidad only five days earlier) and hear an announcement over National Public Radio about a coup in Trinidad and Tobago. A journalist friend of mine says that when she hears the calypso “Vote Dem Out”, the campaign song that rocked the worlds of NAR supporters in 1986, chills still run up her spine–though not for quite the same reasons they did in 1986.
I envy my COP activist neighbours, some of whom were key figures in the NAR frenzy of 21 years ago, their commitment and passion and the sense of hope they’ve clearly been able to muster about the outcome of this year’s election. But try as I might, I can’t share in it.
Tonight I’ll be getting together with a few friends here at home to watch the election results. We’ll order some food, and Jonty is poised to grab a few bottles of wine once the polls close and the prohibition against the sale of alcohol during polling time is lifted. Nikipedia says he may blog, but we (or rather I) have warned him that relatively sociability is one of the requirements for being a part of this lime. We probably won’t make it a very late night. J9 has to be up early for a shoot tomorrow, and in any case we’ll probably all drink more than we should. Then wake up tomorrow and face the music.
People sometimes bring up the digital divide, or low literacy rates, as a reason not to care about putting political information online. But we’ve got to support good, clear, thorough information about elections and candidates — and history and law — online. Then it can spread, through whoever does have the means to read it, print it, distribute it, and do what it takes to get the information out into the world.
All of this is enough to make me think that the population is really politically savvy and educated despite the lack of structured civics education in our school system. What I worry about is whether the online community, with ready access to computers and the Internet, are an accurate representation of the general population. What about the political opinions of those on the other side of the digital divide? And it may be that the Internet is just the latest forum for Trinis to do what they do best, talk. How much this translates into action is another question. Like a friend of mine, wary of all the online talk that has been taking place, recently wrote: “While we, ‘the future’, sit and occupy our time amusing ourselves with all these…discussions, the true leaders in the real world are doing as they please.”
Blogger Shivonne du Barry, expressing some healthy skepticism about the “alternative spins” on Trinidad and Tobago politics being provided by blogs and social networking sites. And now it’s my turn to play devil’s advocate, and a highly optimistic one at that!
Juxtapose the 12% internet penetration rate and Danah Boyd’s infamous findings about Facebook and class (assuming they apply to Trinidad and Tobago) and you conclude that Shivonne’s concerns are well taken, as of course they are - they’re the concerns perennially expressed in discussions about the role/value of the the internet in “developing” societies. But they also assume that, in the absence of Facebook and its equivalents, the political dialogue/activity taking place among this select group would have taken a different (and possibly superior) form (as well it might). Or taken place at all.
They also assume (more than likely correctly) that there’s not some innovative parallel activity taking place “on the other side of the digital divide” using cell phones and SMS. They also assume that all online political activity will necessarily be partisan. Might we not see some serious citizen reporting this upcoming election season? Might some ordinary person not happen to capture some priceless image or bit of footage on a cell phone camera that the jaded media practitioners have missed?
Colours of Notting Hill: Over at Global Voices, Nikipedia has posted a selection of photos from this year’s Notting Hill Carnival celebrations in London.
The Manning blog: The Prime Minister of Trinidad & Tobago is blogging! Would love to know who’s behind this, but on the other hand, maybe I wouldn’t — knowing who it is might just spoil the fun. Hazel “Breakfusses” Manning chimes in from time to time.
Barbados apartment tragedy: Barbados Free Press posted three lengthy reports (one, two, three) on the collapse of an apartment containing five people into a cave in Brittons Hill, Barbados. According to BFP’s last post, it is “highly unlikely there are survivors”. The latest post had attracted 79 comments when I last checked. Barbados Underground and Pull! Push filed reports as well. YouTube user izellajaouda has posted a video of an eyewitness’s account of the collapse recorded from the local television news, and another video from the Voice of Barbados radio station shows a car being rescued from the site.
If you believe as a matter of faith that a certain book is blasphemous, and therefore dangerous for the faithful to read, then you have a simple solution. Tell the faithful that they must not read it. If they are truly faithful, they will obey, and be saved from the perdition you fear for them. If they are not of the faith, or have lapsed in their faith, then to read a blasphemous book will only damn them a little bit further. That is really, as a mindful officer of the faith, none of your business—your only concern is to ensure the obedience of the faithful. - Nilanjana S. Roy in today’s Business Standard (read it before it’s relegated to “premium subscriber only” status).
As few people in this place seem to read, for “book” you may substitute “lifestyle”, “sexual orientation”, “style of dancing”, “style of dress”, “social practice” etc, as required.
These were the scenes this morning in Diego Martin, Trinidad, around 930am. Hurricane Dean isn’t even within spitting distance of us, so imagine what it must feel like in the islands further north, some of which - Dominica and Martinique, for instance - have already taken a beating, and where hurricane warnings and watches are in effect.
Over at Global Voices, Janine Mendes-Franco has posted a report on the reactions from the Caribbean blogosphere as the region braces for Dean.
Just received this alert from the Global Voices mailing list about the flodding in Suriname. If you do know of anyone who can help, please email me at caribbeanfreeradio[at]gmail[dot]com and I’ll relay the message:
An urgent request here to the GV community: Is there anyone on this list who can understand/speak Dutch to do translations into English? Specifically they’ll be translating information from a radio station broadcasting from the Republic of Suriname, on the boarder with Brazil. This is a request to help us over at WorldWideHelp.info to translate the details into English so that we could blog it out.
There’s been some heavy flooding in Suriname over the past 48 hours and 15.000 people have been displaced already and that the infrastructure there has taken a major hit. More rain is expected to fall in the low land, likely to directly affect the situation in the capital Paramaribo.
Because of continued torrential rainfall, the situation is deteriorating further. Airstrips are inundated, creating challenges to the logistics for an aid operation. Late last night the national army and the police scaled back their aid action “Operation falawatra” to a certain extent.
The President there has issued a state of emergency and is expected to request international assistance soon, has not yet. At present, exact information is scarce and the only available information is coming out in Dutch from the radio station. Since Suriname is somewhat an isolated place, it is hard to obtain information, the people we have been in contact with there at the airport (Suriname Airways) and the Central Bank have told us that 3 children are dead, the toll may rise and that help/aid is needed asap.
Was just talking on the phone with Jonathan Ali, who gave me the news that Trinidad & Tobago’s Leader of the Opposition, Basdeo Panday, has been found guilty. The Trinidad Express’s web site posted a newsflash just after noon, our time (GMT -4):
The verdict is in! The Court has ruled that Opposition Leader Basdeo Panday has to pay 1.5 million TT Dollars to the state and serve 2 years hard labour in jail for deliberately failing to disclose a London bank account.
Last Wednesday the nameless police officer that I met warned me to “follow legal channels” to solve the problem. I don’t know where my current actions have overstepped the rights granted me by law. The materials I’ve delivered to each bureau have disappeared like stones into the sea. The receptionists of corresponding work units shift responsibility onto one another. As an ordinary Chinese person, it is depressing. Although the provisions of relevant laws and regulations set the rights of suspects, when you actually do things according to law you discover that you are facing a black hole. . . .
I know that for many of us, especially here in the tiny nations of the Caribbean, the notion of agitating on behalf of a stranger in distant China when we have ample troubles of our own may feel a little strange. But Nina’s heart-wrenching blog entries often make me wonder what it would be like if my own brother or any other family member or friend were to be detained by the police without explanation for two months.
I’m sure it’s hardly news to anyone that not all Trinidadians are wonderful people. This past week, for instance, we saw that even very young Trinidadians are capable of monstrous acts. Some Trinidadians are even capable of siring children who grow up to be guerillas, then dictators responsible for harming many and plunging their country into civil war, who then scurry off to neighbouring countries to escape indictment. Once such Trinidadian is Charles Frederick Taylor, father of Charles Taylor, the former President of Liberia, who last week was extradited to Sierra Leone to stand trial for war crimes.
Charles Frederick Taylor was born in Point Fortin, Trinidad, and, according to this entertaining bio by Kim Johnson, was quite a piece of work, a stern romantic who had a chequered career in Trinidad before deciding to abandon his family and head for Liberia. There are those who doubt the accuracy of the Taylor story, but I don’t see why not. The realities of Caribbean life and migration being what they are, Caribbean people get around. And — though perhaps the citizens of every small country feel this way — Trinidadians have the knack of turning up in the unlikeliest places. At the Oklahoma city bombing. At a party on the luxury vessel which sank on the Thames in 1989 (I’d be willing to bet as well that the Trini was not even officially invited to this event, gate-crashing being another Trinidadian talent). On the same flight as “sneaker bomber” Richard Reid in 2001, and then being recruited to help subdue Reid.
In the Where’s Waldo illustration that is all of our lives, there’s often a Trini in a corner of the frame, waving a little red white and black flag, semi-noticed, like Icarus in Breughel’s famous painting. I’m certain Charles Taylor wishes today that he were an Icarus kind of Trinidadian, as sort of described by Auden:
. . . how everything turns away
Quite leisurely from the disaster; the ploughman may
Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry,
But for him it was not an important failure; the sun shone
As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green
Water; and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen
Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky,
Had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on
T&T’s official World Cup song - it gets worse: Over at the Trinidad & Tobago World Cup blog, Stacy-Marie Ishmael reports today on developments in the scandalous outsourcing of the official Trinidad & Tobago World Cup song to two composers in Leeds. Apparently there’s now a lead singer, but that’s the least of it. Come on, Trickidad: And Francomenz is right, not enough people out there are showing their support for little Sean Luke. I was on the road this morning and saw only a handful of headlights, and on a visit to a shopping mall was surprised not to see more folks in black. Heading up to the airport now, so it will be interesting to see what folks are doing out east.