Farewell Message to the Comrade — A Contributor’s Tribute

Once again that time is drawing nigh, that time when the self-proclaimed comrade — SVG Massah — will again unearth his slithery shrewdness to deceive the gullible SVG masses sufficient to allow themselves to be ensnared for another five years.

He is poised to usher in his final attack on a weakened political system before crawling unwillingly into the abyss, his weathered shell cracked and porous, his soul long since pawned off for one last round of guileful maneuverings, legislative shenanigans, and alleged judicial hijackings. But ready or not you will depart.

The comrade will undoubtedly leave the stage with the dubious distinction of being Saint Vincent and the Grenadines’ most ignominious political corpse, finally coming to the end of his political farse, and no matter what, he must retire. Not because of some grand epiphany, not because the weight of his sins finally crushed him, but because his karma has called upon him, body, mind and spirit, to account.

It’s been quite a run, Comrade, two decades of duplicity: sucking the lifeblood out of Vincentians; like the fierce volcanic ash, suffocating them; milking every drop of decency from their breasts and from the political system, while making sport of the people’s suffering. All that remains is akin to gangrenous husk of breadfruit — partisan chicanery and poetic pre-election corporate trinkets.

Extreme poverty, crime at an all-time high, a draconian tax system ebbing the life of poor Vincentians, no chance for the poor to save, high cost of living, basic needs can’t be met while there is an abject lack of concern — as his family dynasty grows and flourish from the blood of Vincentians, what selfishness and incompetence in the face of mounting hardships.

History now questions whether you ever had a vision beyond self-serving meanderings (Prime Minister, Head of National Security, Son Head of Finance, Daughter-in-law Director of Audit — where else can this happen? Blatant conflict of interest, share cause for concern, how could Vincentians stomach this blatant collusion in the highest offices, where are their voices? This is an obvious ploy to assure lineage succession.)

It is believed that some regard you as a creature not unlike a slithering bush snake, an under-the-table dealmaker with the charisma of a huckster and the moral compass of a drunkard hanging out at Little Tokyo, waiting on the last bus to take him to Georgetown with only 25 cents in his pocket.

And yet, somehow, against all odds, you became the most powerful man in SVG. A political crypt keeper, embalming progress, cackling over the effectiveness and success of the Covid-19 Statutory Rules and Orders, like some deranged museum curator protecting a pile of iguana bones. Your greatest achievement? Turning away civil servants from their jobs on the guise of good legislation, which was put to death by the High Court but nursed and brought back to life by an Appellate Court, instead of being left to die and rotten like an unclaimed corpse in the hallway of the Milton Cato General Hospital.

So now, Comrade, Vincentians are watching you glitch out like a broken animatronic at Gonsalves Winery, discursive now in mid-sentence at press conferences, on the radio and television. The luster, the phony flair, now gone; it’s like a drunkard tumbling down his stairs, and getting that dismal look in your eyes each time a reporter asks if you have the balls to take the country into another term. What is it you have to hide so? What are you afraid of? But now we know — your dirty linens are now being washed in the Dry River.

But let’s talk about your legacy, Comrade, because that’s what really matters. What will history say about you? That you were a master strategist? A political genius? No, Comrade, history will remember you as the seducing, soulless despot who sold SVG down the Dry River one judicial scheme at a time. A master domino player, remaining conspicuously silent even as Dr. Friday gallops, not knowing or caring that the Constitutional hangman awaits him. You hope to turn any prospects of your pending defeat into victory. Oh, how Vincentians wished they were waking up to Mondays or even Tuesdays. You turned the Opposition into a pawn in your greasy hands — a disturbing endnote in the great tragedy of Vincentian so-called democracy.

You could have stopped the Appeal. You could have buried the matter when you had the chance. But instead, you did what you do best — nothing, muttering something like “we need the Court to tell us how to deal with a future pandemic.” I guess you had a chat with Gates. “Let the Appeal begin,” was the call from Cabinet, knowing that the court system that was whipped up would rule in its favor.

And now look at you: soon retiring in disgrace, while hungry parents rummage through Paul’s Lot trying to find food to feed their children, while you ride high, looming large and fat, surrounded by bootlickers and senseless fanatics, sycophants, reshaping the landscape like it was willed to you, as if you are the ONLY Vincy at Large. Reshaping the land into something so grotesque, bare, and beggarly that even Chatoyer or E.T. Joshua would be banging at the lids of their coffins trying to escape.

You spent your whole political life consolidating power, spreading out like “Lord Map,” only to end up childless, not even one decent political successor. You instead left a broken-down, malfunctioning estate, leaving it all up to the administrators to figure how to settle the estate. What a pity. What a poor example of a Counselor. You, Comrade, of all persons, should have arranged your affairs better.

What can we say? Enjoy your retirement! Maybe take up sailing, maybe join the Bequia Regatta, take up residence at Victoria Keyes in Trinidad or the Carib Territory in Dominica maybe best. Encircle Balliceaux — you might just see some Garifunas. Or maybe you can shuffle around Kingstown, have a sip of Gonsalves Black Wine, wondering if it was worth it after all. Because here’s the thing, Comrade: as Adam Kinzinger said, history doesn’t care about “legislative genius” or “tactical brilliance” when it comes at the expense of the country. You’ll be remembered not as a mastermind, but as a political cockroach — scurrying in the dark, surviving, outlasting your enemies, but never actually winning.

So, farewell, Comrade Massah. May your exit from the political routine be long, humiliating, and filled with endless reminders that despite all your efforts, your greatest achievement was being the person who enabled poverty in SVG, by stealth and stratagem SIMPLICTA! Pushing a $5 E.C. or $10 E.C. note here and there in they hand, accompanied by a sinister smirk wobbling along the path — and then sending home already poor, hardworking civil servants claiming that they abandoned their jobs, when they were actively working on their jobs. What a travesty of power, what wielding of the pen, what a shame — YOU ACTED LIKE A TRUE heartless Massah.

In the end, may your retirement be miserable as your cryptic souls, Comrade.
Chatoyer will write your dossier in volcanic ash as cold as your heart.