Monday, July 13, 2009

PISSING MAD



I am pissing mad with the Prime Minstrel of the Government of Trinidad and Tobago and for ONCE I am ecstatic that I do not rely any more on the government for my daily sustenance.

Here's why--Having received and accepted the resignation of Attorney General Bridgette Annisette-George PM Manning recalled John Jeremie from his post, as Trinidad and Tobago's Ambassador to the Court of St James for Jeremie to take up once again the position of Attorney General in Trinidad and Tobago.

Local attorneys roundly and vociferously objected to Mr Jeremie's reappointment, because at his first outing as Attorney General under the People's National Movement Government(2002-2007) Mr Jeremie was admonished by the Privy Council for actions taken when a bunch of jokers tried and failed to have Satnarine Sharma, the sitting Chief Justice of Trinidad and Tobago, removed from office.

Fast forward to life in Trinidad and Tobago in 2009. Following Jeremie's reappointment, the Law Association of Trinidad and Tobago convened and members voted in favor on a motion of "NO Confidence" against Jeremie as Attorney General this time around. By it's actions the Law Association of TT, joined the rising chorus of communities demanding the immediate removal of Jeremie from the post.

Last week, in the heat of the dispute Jeremie reportedly returned to the United Kingdom to 'wrap up private business'. So the nation was taken aback when PM Patrick Manning confessed that Jeremie had done the 'honourable' thing and offered to him his resignation as Attorney General.

Manning's pronouncement, made at the tea break of last Friday's sitting of the House of Representatives (Lower House) appeared contrived, timed as it were to divert the population's attention away from the perception and 'implication' that fundamental rights and freedoms were being daily eroded in Trinidad and Tobago by this People's National Movement administration.

It seems Manning has never heard, that cockroach must not get in yard fowl business. While Manning was busy calling for the return to power of the democratically elected President of Honduras, his Local Government Minister, Hazel Manning (yes folks His WIFE) was hurriedly piloting a bill through both houses of Parliament for the postponement of Local Government Elections in Trinidad and Tobago, for the FOURTH consecutive year.

Let's forget for the moment Independent Senator Gail Merhair's convoluted crap of an 'explanation' for voting the way she did during this debate.The woman tripped over her tongue so many times I am surprised she didn't burst her lip in the process! Trinbagonians know stranger things have happened, inside and out of Parliament.

But back to the Manning and Manning Show. Today while his minions were being summoned en mass to Woodford Square, in Port of Spain, Trinidad and Tobago's capital, Prime Minstrel Manning announced, that he had declined to accept Jeremie's resignation. because he surmised the motion of No confidence had no bearing on Jeremie's ability to perform his duties as the nation's Attorney General. In other words "Fuck off all of you. I am the Prime Minstrel and I do what I want!" Talk about delusional!

Now the ball rests in Jeremie's court. Let us see if he is as honourable a man as he is made out to be. And here's a hint John Jeremie; an honourable man would walk as quickly as he can and as far away from this fiasco as possible. Are you honourable enough?

It is time Inshan Ishmael and his One Voice group up the ante and implement programmes that will cultivate a change of attitude and thinking on the population of Trinidad and Tobago.

The Uniinhibited Diplomat


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LE NOIREAU- Prologue

There was chaos in Scotland Bay Village. Everywhere, everyone was busy; packing, unpacking, leaving burnt bare lands for the Americans.

Away from the noises and confusion the aquamarine Caribbean waves played a soft calypso rhythm, strumming, rippling, kissing bare toes, feet and ankles dug deep into the cold, clammy sand.

The air was laden, ready, thick with the rancid scent of seaweed, salt and smoke carried in the spray; pushed by angry, crashing, foaming waves against a stony coastline up and around the Bay’s end.

She was misted; creating an eerie appearance as she sat back hunched on a fallen tree trunk embedded in the sand; knees tucked under the wide folds of her skirt. Damp grainy sand and the sea waters rushed up; bubbling in between her fingers and feet. Gently she rested her chin on her knees and looked out at the fading horizon, watching the day in its brilliance and splendor of death at sunset. The fiery gold of the sun’s rays; fingering, shimmering on the aquamarine canopy of the sea, dazzling blinding and ever so slowly, churning to taunting, tangerine orange and saffron reds; cascading into purple, violets and royal blue of evening time with ballet like precision. And later as stars peeping first play hide and seek with the naked eye, streaks of charcoal gray strut into midnight black, shadowing the earth into illusions of peace-fullness, as twinkling jewels finally sparkle in the phosphorescent gleam of a splendid Caribbean moonlight.

The gulf steamer disregarding war time surveillance orders; tugged by, alerting Astral Le Noireau to the lateness of the hour. She sighed lifted tiny hands from the sand and stared as the grains quietly trickled back into their places on the seemingly un-rumpled shore. The signal light of the streamer as it passed by and answering flashed from the lighthouse, momentarily blinded her as she turned huge tear filled almond shaped golden eyes up and then out, taking in the silver-ness of the long familiar Scotland Bay coastline, now bathed in the beauty of a full Caribbean moonlight. The gentle breeze blew her blue black hair into her eyes and face, as one hand rose gracefully to whip the unruly strands back into place. Silently a figure standing in the shadows of a coconut palm tree observed her.

Astral stood crying silently, watching the village she so love fade into the night shadows as the steamer padded laboriously out into the first Boca. Every inch further way from Scotland Bay felt like a fist clenching around her lung, stifling her, killing her. She stood rooted until Chateau le Noireau was no longer visible as they rounded the bend at Delgada Point. Until tears of frustration overwhelmed her and she crumbled to the seat on the almost empty steamer. Astral Le Noireau and her precious possession were some of the last things to evacuate from her village.

The Marines had put her on the ferry.

(c) 2006 Cecly Ann Mitchell


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