"Money talks/ Big Money Talks Big"…Bahamian folk-wisdom.
And I am also persuaded that he is quite sincere when he says that, the Future is Now.
But, believe you me Jerome Fitzgerald is also learning a lesson of a life-time; that lesson – simply stated – is that power yields to nothing other than power.
In the absence of real pressure and real action – [preferably mass action] – his is a voice crying in the wilderness.
As I am currently persuaded, the future is not now.
Indeed, the ‘now’ that currently exists for the Free National Movement and its leaders is itself but a moment wherein the past itself is being perfected.
Simply put, the Bay Street elite is busy with reclaiming and regenerating the Cash Cow that is theirs by birthright and theirs by cunning, stealth and an assortment of other state-sanctioned shenanigans.
Now, please permit a confession.
The truth I wish to disclose has to do with the fact that I was always flattered beyond measure whenever – and for whatever reason – George Mackey [late] would refer to me as ‘My beloved…’
He always made these words sound so very genuine; and believe you me, since I am always on the prowl for words of endearment, it just did not matter to me that this man – George Mackey – would refer to me as, "… My beloved…"
As I came to learn, this was just the kind of human person George Mackey just happened to be. But this is not the point I wish to make.
The point I wish to underscore is that George Mackey was such a gentle man that he also said the same kind of ‘my beloved’ stuff to people like Norman Solomon – a quintessential Bay Street Boy if ever there was such a thing a quintessential Bay Street Boy.
And so – to my narrow-minded chagrin – I winced a little when I was told that George Mackey [late [also referred to Solomon with those mellifluous words, My beloved…
What I am trying to say – by way of this convoluted introduction – has to do with the fact that a scion of the once great Progressive Liberal Party [ and his party] could and did reach that point in their mutual evolution where it sure seemed that the past was to be left where it belonged, that is to say in the past – gone but not forgotten.
And so, I came to believe that, notwithstanding its myriad of struggles against Bay Street Rule, the [New] Progressive Liberal Party – as led by the Rt. Hon. Perry Gladstone Christie – would once and for all times demonstrate that what was good for Bay Street was also demonstrably good for the Progressive Liberal Party and the masses it purported to lead on the dawn of the 21st. century.
And as I thought then and as I think now, the New Progressive Liberal Party was birthed on the assumption that, somehow or the other, they could out-FNM the Free National Movement.
And so it came to be that the likes of George Mackey [late and My beloved] and Perry Gladstone Christie and a motley crew of others such could – with the blessings of the likes of Norman Solomon [late] traipse around town talking about how Bay Street needed a face-lift and as to how the people who owned Bay Street could move their container ports/ and as to how – once the container port was moved to somewhere else southwest/ the Negroes on Arawak Cay could sell even more conch dishes and the vulgar ones among them could – in the shadows of bushes, dust and grime – sell whatever else there was about them that could be sold – to the accompaniment of tuba sound, goatskin drums, horns and bugles.
And they would call all this Bahamian cultural expression.
This reverie lasted for a short while/ and while it lasted it was such a wonderful sight and such a wonderful sound to hear and see Negroes and White folks talk so very eloquently about what they proposed to do with the ports and the fish-fry and the city that they all agreed had deteriorated/ and some other Negroes talked about the good old days when Sir Stafford Lofthouse Sands, the Real King of Bay Street, would see to it that night clubs Over The Hill thrived.
And so they did!
If only – these Negroes pleaded – we could turn back the hands of Time.
If only…!
And scarcely had these Negroes dreamed their dreams about dancing and prancing and singing and shucking and jiving Over the Hill and about revitalizing their city center, Sir Lynden – the Father of the Nation – died in the seventieth year of his sojourn, this side of Jordan.
As if to telegraph a message from the great beyond, Pindling’s death gave the Black Bahamian one fleeting moment in which they could be reminded of a glorious past.
As if on command, the Black people voted for a Progressive Liberal Party that had at its helm, Pindling’s anointed successor; none other than Perry Gladstone Christie.
And so it came to be that, Perry Gladstone Christie became Prime Minister of the Commonwealth of the Bahamas.
And so it came to be that once ensconced at the peak and in the pinnacle, Christie showed his true colours; he would create new circles of power, invite FNM’s into his political bosom and live happily ever after.
Well, that was the plan/ truth is that things just did not work out that way/ what happened between victory in the morning and crushing defeat at midnight/ was that Christie and his band became drunk on power/ oblivious to the plight of widows and orphans/ most of them Blacks and Negroes.
And then there were the scandals/ and then there were the scandals.
And then there was a call for general election/ and then there was much weeping, wailing and gnashing of teeth/ Hubert Ingraham and Brent Symonette were back – larger than ever.
And as Jerome Fitzgerald would have us all know, then and thereafter began the truly serious discussions concerning what was to be done with Bay Street, the Container Port and the flipping of property on the water-front.
This is where things are in this ninth year since Lynden Pindling died.
Bay Street is being transformed; the port is being relocated to Arawak Cay, new road corridors are being constructed and in the meantime, Jerome Fitzgerald, Kenred Dorsett and a host of others are beating up their gums about a done-deal.
As reported, "A committee headed by Senator Jerome Fitzgerald has launched an all-out media blitz designed to prevent the government from relocating the downtown container port to Arawak Cay.
Fitzgerald, who heads 'The Committee to Protect and Preserve The Bahamas for Future Generations', indicates that, "It's going to ultimately culminate in a town hall meeting…
I was there/ I helped make up the crowd that was there and then there were some other people who came to see how many people would come to make up the crowd/ and so it was that a crowd did assemble in the hotel on Bay Street.
And I heard Kenred Dorsett as he affirmed that, Enough is Enough.
Well whether Dorsett or Fitzgerald wish to believe it or not, Bay Street will not be deterred; they are back – and with a vengeance – to reclaim what they think is theirs/
And so even as brothers Mackey, Solomon and Pindling sleep the long sleep, the past that was Bay Street’s is today being perfected.
My beloved, these are still the days of Elijah, prepare ye the way of the Lord/ Amen!
