JUST ANOTHER DAY IN ‘PARADISE’

I WAS relieved to know that it wasn’t cynicism forged from years of journalism that made me forget Friday that it was Budget Day and when reminded of it, not to experience the slightest quickening of my pulse, not a quiver. I was very thankful I was not alone in my opinion that Budget 2004/2005 “would not change the price of rice,” and that my pessimistic view that “Budgets came and Budgets went and my quality of life remained the same or worsened” was evidently shared by quite a few people. You see, I noticed that in the streets and supermarkets of Trinidad on Friday, no one was talking about Budget Day 2004. Not a buzz. Just like me, many of the residents of Trinidad (I cannot speak of Tobago) seemed to feel Friday that it didn’t matter how many billions any Government spent, or how much our Governments talked about “free this and free that,” or how many grand promises were made, “living” in this country would still be costly, in every sense of the word. Just like me, they appeared to have long arrived at the cheerless conclusion that our many millions were useless unless these were accompanied by modern management and a “real country” mentality.

They knew, as I did, that months, years after the Prime Minister announced his fiscal proposals for 2004/2005, our roads would still be filled with potholes. I had of late noticed that not even the streets in posh areas were immune from the craters. Right in front of the Country Club in Maraval and opposite the sanctuary of the nation’s well-heeled Catholics — Church of Assumption — I had observed on Thursday afternoon — 24 hours before the Budget was read — that the road’s asphalt surface was looking like the face of the moon. The hazard of driving along such an obstacle course was multiplied two-fold by the altogether too familiar sight of water coursing out of a broken water main and pelting down toward Saddle Road, Maraval. Then, where the Saddle Road intertwines with Long Circular Road, as if to prove my point that money is not the problem, a group of men from some Ministry were busy repainting white lines. Yes, I thought, this is Trinidad. We occupied our time daubing paint on roads filled with so many potholes; they were more pothole than road. How would Budget Day change this? Not at all.

What about the state of the nation’s public hospitals and the “treatment” meted out to the public therein? Would the stench on the wards dissipate Saturday? Would the nasty bedside manner of many doctors and nurses improve and would the average citizen be treated with dignity on October 9? Would people feel certain that when they went into the State’s hospitals and clinics, they were going to get the best of health care? Would patients stop losing their lives just so? The answer to all these questions was a resounding “no.” And how would education improve after Budget Day? Free education at the primary and secondary level had not meant our young people were leaving school educated. Quantity of money was not translating into quality of learning. Indeed, just like the rest of TT society, those succeeding in school were an elite few. The masses were failing fundamental subjects and “graduating” unqualified for anything. Millions of dollars would not bring a more progressive or proactive Ministry of Education. The mismanagement of Kalifa Logan’s case was proof perfect of its inertia, inefficiency and colonial mindset.

What about the environment? During next year’s rainy season, when the showers came would we flood? We all knew perfectly well the answer to that one. We could clean our drains everyday; if we did not stop the deforestation of our hills in the name of “development,” or put an end to the dumping of rubbish by companies and citizens alike, we would continue to flood. If we did not ensure the Environmental Management Agency did its job, we were spinning top in mud. Literally. On Friday, while the Prime Minister was preparing to read his Budget, the international news networks were announcing that the Nobel Prize Committee had awarded its Peace Prize to a Kenyan environmentalist, Mrs Wangari Maathai, signalling thus, the great role the preservation of the environment plays in world stability. Maathai is reportedly known as the “Tree Woman” in her home country. According to BBC World News, in the late 1970s, Mrs Maathai led a campaign called the Green Belt Movement to plant tens of millions of trees across Africa to slow deforestation. The movement grew, the network said, to include projects to preserve biodiversity, educate people about their environment and promote the rights of women and girls. Maathai is the Deputy Environment Minister of Kenya. 

Trinidad and Tobago does not have a Ministry of Environment, per se, and the EMA is toothless and useless! You think we’re ever going to stop flooding? Would we feel safer in our homes or anywhere else after October 8, 2004? Would the small man think himself entitled to the same rights as the big boy or would he feel just as unequal as he did on October 7? Would there be justice for victims Akiel Chambers and Ignatius “Shakes” Owen after the Budget was read? Would we truly believe we could look forward to a better life on October 9? Would we get more for our money? Would we have somewhere or someone to whom to complain and from whom we could get action in times of  trouble? Would the most basic of services be actually supplied to the taxpaying public? Would we feel we possessed true leaders? Or would existence in Trinidad and Tobago tick on as usual, Budget Day or not? In my mind, the answer to such burning questions was obvious. I decided nevertheless, to give the Government another chance, to turn on the TV to watch the Prime Minister read his fiscal proposals for 2004/2005. When I did, Patrick Manning was presenting his review of the economy in 2004, reeling off figures to demonstrate the nation’s “growth.” It was the same old rhetoric.

However, I determined to hear what his administration had planned for the next fiscal year. As Mr Manning began to set out his Government’s agenda for energy and energy industries, my lights dipped. I heard the PM say something about Ispat and then my TV screen went blank. The house alarm started to screech. It was yet another blackout in Diego Martin. Friday’s would last five hours, throughout the rest of the Budget presentation and into the night. I never got to hear the Government’s 2004/2005 economic plans. On Friday evening, as I lay in bed, gazing at the wax of another scented candle burn away and waiting for the electricity to come back on, I felt particularly sorry for my fellow residents who were arriving home in darkness in these days of high crime. Not a police patrol car could be heard. As I rested in the dark watching the candle’s yellowish flame give its own peculiarly ironic salute to Budget Day 2004, I also concluded that, journalist or citizen, I had every right to be cynical on Friday or on any other day. Budget could come and Budget could go, oil and/or natural gas dollars could flow on in, few of TT’s citizens would ever see the colour of their country’s money. suz@itrini.com